Chasing after grace...

There are conversations that stay with you and repeat in  your mind, gaining greater significance as you think about them. Lourdes is a place for those conversations, and although they rarely seem important at the time, they come back to you in prayer, in dreams and in reflection. The Wednesday of Lourdes is always a special day for me; I try to make it to the baths, confession and the Blessed Sacrament Procession all in one day. I do this for two reasons; firstly because once I have found the courage for the baths, confession seems a doddle; secondly, it means I am free for service to others every hour of every day at all other times. I have my day, and that is all I need. 

On Wednesday evening this year I joked with a friend. When he commented: 'You made it to confession?' I replied: 'I am surprised you cannot see my state of grace! I have been bathed, confessed and blessed today.' He replied something like: 'There is no such thing as cheap grace, and you, of all people, should know that.' I may not be accurate but, it is this thought I would like to consider because, whatever the comment of my friend, he set me thinking about the first chapter of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship.

'Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. We are fighting today for costly grace.

Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjack's wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sins, the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the Church's inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price, grace without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance, and since it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing. Since the cost was infinite, the possibilities of using and spending it are infinite. What would grace be if it were not cheap?'

Bonhoeffer goes on to explain passionately that the cost of grace was the death of a son, and that this cost, if it were anything, was not cheap. Costly grace, he responds calls people to follow the teachings of Christ, to change. It has very little to do with the processes and ceremonies of religion. His tone is echoed in the writing of Herbert McCabe OP:

'The only true God is the God of freedom. The other gods make you feel at home in a place, they have to do with the quiet cycle of the seasons, with the familiar mountains and the country that you grew up in and love; with them you know where you are. But the harsh God of freedom calls you out from all of this into a desert where all the familiar landmarks are gone, where you cannot rely upon the safe workings of nature, on spring time and harvest, where you must wander over the wilderness waiting for what God will bring. The God of freedom will allow you none of the comforts of religion. Not only does he tear you away from the old traditional shrines and temples of your native place, but he will not even allow you to worship him in the old way.'

In the light of the religiosity and traditional piety of Lourdes, it seems difficult to make sense of what these two great thinkers are getting at. Do the religious traditions of Lourdes mean nothing? Teach us nothing? And what of the sacraments of the Church? For me the answer is found in the revelations of a woman in love, Catherine of Sienna. In her Dialogue with God, she describes grace as the fruit of a desirous heart for union with God, the Infinite good. He replies to her:

'No virtue can have life in it except in charity, and charity is nursed and mothered by humility. You will find humility in knowledge of yourself when you see that even your own existence comes not from yourself, but from me, for I loved you before you came into being. And in my unspeakable love for you I willed to create you anew in grace....

Pressed by my servants prayers I look on them (sinners) and give them light. I rouse the dog of conscience within them. I make them sensitive to the perfume of virtue and give them delight in  the fellowship of my servants....

The eye cannot see, nor the tongue tell, nor the heart imagine how many paths and methods I have solely for love. and to lead them back to truth that my grace may be realized in them.'

I have seen and written of Lourdes: 'At communion...people seek out priests from whom they should receive the eucharist....I was touched by the need in the faces of the crowd, they were chasing after grace.' Of my own experience 'part of being in Lourdes is about taking the time to stop hiding from yourself. There is a call to pay attention to who you are, and attention to the eyes of God looking upon you.' Costly grace is caught up in a desirous need for God, revealed in the love of our neighbour, the most vulnerable, the poor and the sick. The sacraments of the Church, so readily available, are not cheap. They are tools for the expensive grace of self discovery and atonement in its truest sense; to be honest, they can be a bit of a shock. Wednesday in Lourdes is about rediscovering a desire for God in my life, and having made that discovery, resolving to change my pattern of living to be more in tune with the Gospel, whatever that may take.

Photo: Incense Bearer at the Blessed Sacrament Procession taken by Bro. Lawrence Lew OP

Finding Love - Inside Lourdes

On Monday, just before the evening's torchlight procession, I escaped on a solitary mission to the Blessed Sacrament Chapel on the far side of the domain. I felt as though I was going against the status quo a little because the Dominicans had kindly organized exposition at the hotel, but I wanted privacy. It was selfish, but in a way I wanted a chapel all to myself!

The domain was crowded. I had to weave my way through thousands of tightly packed pilgrims to get to my destination. Walking across the bridge over the Gave the noise was intense as people from all around the world announced their presence, shouting and singing through loud speakers. There were people everywhere laughing, singing, talking, arguing, praying. I hurried on, driven by a mission to be alone and have some space.

The far side of the grotto, the meadow, is often quieter than the rest of the domain. Walking through the door of the chapel was a moment of transformation. There was stillness and quiet. I could still hear the cries of greeting outside, and the choruses of Ave Maria as the procession got underway. Inside though was cocoon of quiet. There was only one other pilgrim, and he was gently snoring with his head on the bench in front.

I had come with an agenda. I wanted to properly prepare my confession for Wednesday. I knew there would be gravity to this reflection, but I was determined. I had not been to confession in ages. To be honest it makes me nervous and, although I admit that the words of absolution are the most powerful I have ever heard, I still manage to avoid them most of the year around. Coming to the Eucharist with a preset agenda is always a very bad idea. 

Every time I looked towards the altar I was knocked back with a sensation of love. This annoyed me. It was frustrating and not what I had planned. I tried to think about the numerous ways I thought I had offended God in my attitude and ways, but I could not concentrate. In the end I had to give up and pray about love instead.

I thought about how lucky I am never to have felt unloved. It was clear to me that I was surrounded by people who struggled day by day to believe that they were loveable. Love for me has always been unconditional, given and received. No matter what I did in life my family would look out for me. Even on the pilgrimage there were people I would rely on to love me no matter what I did, even it was the most stupid thing in the world. This was not a reflection about wishy washy soft love. It was love that seeks the happiness of others before it looks to the needs of self; love demanding of the greatest sacrifices. I would give everything to the people I love, and I would hold everything back. Knowing that you are loved gives you freedom to make all sorts of mistakes. There is always the option of starting again. I am happy for the people I love to lose their temper with me, and I am happy to lose my temper with them because I am confident that neither party intends any lasting damage. Love doesn't hold grudges.

All this musing brought me to think about judgement, and the sadness which I sometimes recognize in others. People are afraid of the judgement of God - I have known people to have more faith in that than in his love. This can be an isolating experience. I am not sure I have ever been afraid of God's judgement. This is not because I am perfect, I am in fact, quite the opposite. But God cannot be wrong, and therefore judgment can be nothing but liberating. It makes me sad to think of people who worry so much that God is angry that they cannot see love. God is never angry outside of love. The judgement of God is not the reason I rarely make it to confession. I just do not like embarrassing situations and have a lot of pride. 

I am not sure this all makes sense and I am certain that there is no conclusion here. But, that is what I thought. And, when I had thought it I went home feeling loved and lucky.

The Simple Life

Thank God for Bloody Minded Dominicans!

These thoughts are not from me. They are from a friend who came to Lourdes with me. But, I heartily agree with them, they are well expressed and I couldn't do better myself. This is what Lourdes feels like when you spend the rest of your life trying not to look weird.

There is something about Lourdes, something special, and everyone who has been there seems to know it, but none of us seem to be able to isolate quite what it is. I think that it is probably responsible for the number of people who return there every year, and a lot of them do.

When I was there last year I remember one of the talks by the Prior Provincial of the Dominican Province. In it he said that people come to Lourdes for different reasons - some people are bullied into it: I was certainly one of those people. I did not want to go to Lourdes at all. I had absolutely no desire to go there, no desire to go on pilgrimage and couldn't for the life of me see why I should give up a week of my precious summer holiday to go somewhere I did not want to go - however good the company! A ruthless and prolonged operation was put in place by several well loved, but bloody minded Dominicans, and when some well loved but bloody minded family friends joined in it proved too much, even for someone as stubborn as me. In a moment of weakness I caved into the pressure, and spent the next few months regretting it intensely. By the time I capitulated the team that had amassed to get me there was fairly large, but there were two people, the two original members, who I held particularly responsible. Although now I am more grateful to them than I can ever verbalize, in the time leading up to the pilgrimage I sincerely wanted to slap them every time they grinned at me, reminding me of their success and my failure.

I realize now that I was quite scared about going. Quite what i was scared of I am not sure, but I suppose that it had something to do with a general attitude I had towards the faith at the time. I believed, there was no doubt about this, but it had taken rather a back seat. I went to Mass every Sunday less because I thought I had to than out of habit. I wanted to see people there, and because, this is what we did on Sundays. A week full of Mass going and a kind of intense religiosity seemed a bit more than I could handle.

But, there is something special about Lourdes and by about a week after I returned I was ensuring that i could go back there the following year, insisting that that family holiday had to be arranged around it. I have spent the last year wondering what that something special is, wondering what it was about that place that touched me so deeply, that changed me so much. I had been wondering and pondering but, to no avail - all I could tell you was that there was something about that place. I knew one of the reasons that it was special to me was because of what happened to me there. I changed in Lourdes in a radical, but probably mostly imperceptible way. I had my own conversion experience, my own little Damascus. But, I also realised that whilst this made Lourdes a special place for me, it was a consequence, not the source of the 'special something', the X Factor. Then, after an entire year of wondering, on my last night in Lourdes this year, I returned from one last solitary late night trip to the grotto and the adoration chapel, and it hit me. Things are, quite frankly, simpler in Lourdes.

In Lourdes, if you want to go an pray in the middle of the day, you just get up an go to the nearest chapel. If you want to go down to the grotto in the middle of the night you can. If you want to spend time before the Blessed Sacrament there are at least two places you can go. You can spend hours sitting quietly in a chapel or in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament if that is what you want. You can go to Mass daily (or even twice if you feel so inclined and the opportunity arises) and it is not a problem. It is absolutely fine. Unremarkable even. You will not face snide or despairing comments, you will not be teased. You will not have to glaze over the hour or so you spent sitting at the back of Church when you give an account of your day. You may even run into someone you know who is also down in the grotto for a late night visit! This is a place where you can run into every type of religious habit under the sun, and see a Bishop in full regalia praying next to you. This is a place where you can spend a week wearing your rosary hanging out of the pocket on your jeans, attached with a carabiner, and not get a single odd look.

Living in a country where being a Catholic is to be definitely in a minority, a world where the outward sign of religion is often deemed unnecessary, ostentatious and sometimes inappropriate, Lourdes is a breath of fresh air. In the words of the two bloody minded, but well loved Dominicans: 'Here, it is OK to be Catholic'. In Lourdes it is simpler.

It is true that its is not always meant to be simple. We are warned explicitly that it won't always be simple. Indeed, we are even meant to be joyful and grateful when it is not. In his sermon on the mount Christ says: 'Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven' (Matthew 5: 11 -12). In the words of St. Peter: 'If you are reviled in the name of Christ, you are blessed because the spirit of glory, which is the spirit of God, is resting upon you.' (1Peter4: 12). Put simply, we will find it difficult, hard, challenging. In his rule St. Benedict realized this, exhorting patience in the events of 'hardships and unjust treatment' (RB 7.42), and that was in a community of monks.

However, I do think that there is something to be said for one week, every now and then, once a year say, when things are easier. One week when we are fairly sure that we won't be reviled, persecuted or have all kinds of evil uttered against us falsely. One week in which it is not only OK to be Catholic, but actively encouraged. One week when it is easy. I think that if it is easier in this one week to do these things then we will find ourselves spending more time in prayer, listening longer, harder, and more intently to God, hearing more clearly what he is calling us to be and do. And, whether intentionally, consciously, or completely by accident we will find ourselves converting, turning back to God. We will find ourselves attending to the pleas of the prophet Jeremiah: 'Jerusalem, Jerusalem, turn again to the Lord you God.' This one easy week refreshes and rejuvenates us, it gives us back the confidence, the strength, and quite possibly the inclination to go back home and continue the practice of our faith regardless of the reaction we face.

One week of simplicity not only reminds us why we are willing to face the music at home. It reminds us why, deep down, we don't really care about the music.

Feeding Crowds

The International Mass at Lourdes is always powerful. It was busy, noisy and crowded. I have never wanted to have a seat at this celebration, there are too many other people with a greater need. This is just as well because if I were to want one I would be disappointed. Eventually I settled between friends leaning against the wall at the side of the Pope Pius X Basilica. When everything is so loud and brash there is a need to retreat into a quiet bubble of contemplation. I can make it silent in my heart. I wanted to focus on the intentions of those next to me. It was good to be huddled together so closely, their presence made it easier to concentrate on their thoughts and those they love. I am quite sure we were all preparing for mass saying the Rosary. There was a purposeful quiet in our little huddle. I took the luminous mysteries for my meditation, in such an atmosphere of celebration it seemed appropriate somehow.

I knew the Gospel would be the Feeding of the 5000, having looked it up during morning prayer. Sometimes the readings in all the different languages can be hard to follow. After the Gospel was read there was complete silence for reflection. It was still, but the atmosphere was expectant, hopeful. There were lots of thoughts flying through my head, scatter brained as I am. I can't really concentrate in places so full of stimuli, ordinarily I would kneel and let my body pray where my mind fails, but it was not quite appropriate here and would have created too much scandalous attention. There was an overwhelming sense that the Feeding of 5000 was about to happen again, through the eucharist, to satisfy the needs of 25 000 pilgrims. People say there are no such things as miracles, but watching the faces of people in that place it is disbelief that amazes me more. I have heard it said that there is enough light in the world for those that want to see the miraculous, and enough darkness for those of an opposite disposition. The International Mass was flooded with light.

At communion I watched the people seek out the priests from whom they should receive the eucharist. Often this is a fairly disorderly affair. I was touched by the need in the faces of the crowd; they were chasing after grace. I still had not been to confession, and was not intending to go until Wednesday (it would take me that long to work up to it). The only prayer I had left was one of surrender. It was time to hand myself over to be broken and made new. There was only a short time after communion before the final blessing and the inevitable rush to beat the crowds from the Basilica. We were all still huddled against the wall, friends praying either side of me. I wondered what they were praying for and, thinking about that for a while, prayed for them before standing to receive Benediction. When I skipped off to find the lady I was charged to look after and bring from the Church in a wheelchair I was really quite tearful, but as usual the business of Lourdes came to the rescue and I could hide behind the jobs that needed to be done.

Lourdes - On the Inside

I have come home from Lourdes. For all the spiritual and emotional turmoil of that place, the hardest part of the experience is the journey home. I have to steel myself up to it. Thinking about the events of the last week I do not want to write about what I saw, not much anyway. It is possible to find out about the sights and sounds of Lourdes, the process of the baths, the processions and the prayers in many places. I would not be able to do them justice here. If writing is a source of prayer, and for me it often is, then I want to try and write honestly about what I felt during the pilgrimage. It might not be possible to do justice to this theme but, before I leave this last week behind and move headlong into the future, I would like to give it a try.

Reading over my diary it would be fair to say that I arrived in Lourdes completely conscious of my need for conversion and confession. It was on my mind. Turning back to God is a gradual process. At the end of a very busy term, and in a panicked rush about my academic work I had crawled into a whirlwind of self obsession, pride and arrogance. When my reaction to not receiving funding from the AHRC for my DPhil was less disappointment than 'more fool them', I knew I had been placing too much emphasis on my own plans in life. I had barely considered if studying full time again was part of God's plan for me. It was definitely time to realign my priorities.

In the first two days of the pilgrimage I could hardly walk along the street without my mind being invaded by the story of the woman with the haemorrage. It did not come from the readings, which were focused on the torments of the prophet Jeremiah. Perhaps it was the crushing crowds and the talk of healing. Whatever the source I could not shake it and so began to pray with it. All that woman wanted was to touch His cloak. She had the faith, but she did not want the attention. She would have done anything not to have been noticed by other people. She did not want to be looked at, especially not by Jesus. Part of being in Lourdes is about taking the time to stop hiding from yourself. There is a call there to pay attention; attention to who you are, and attention to the eyes of God looking upon you. I am sure this is not meant to be frightening, but if you have not done it for a while it can be a bit of a shock. The most vivid experience of this nature happened during a solitary mission to the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, and I will come back to that later. I would like to explore things in order.

Learning through water

Photo: Bro. Lawrence Lew

" Stars and blossoming fruit trees: utter permanence and extreme fragility give an equal sence of eternity....The vulnerability of precious things is beautiful, because vulnerabilty is a mark of existence." - Simone Weil

Without a doubt the strangest experience of Lourdes has got to be the baths. Last year, when I travelled to Lourdes for the first time, I had had visions of a picturesque pool in the shade of a grotto cave. People would be able to sit out all day and hop into the water to cool off when they felt like it - a bit like a religious trip to the beach. The waters of Lourdes were, in my fictional landscape, very similar to the pool at Bethsaida in John 5.

However, I was to be re-educated about the baths of Lourdes. These baths were organised with military precision, and it is hard to describe their appearance with any sense of charity. At best they resemble a cattle market crossed with a 1950's swimming pool, and to be honest, they have a very similar aroma. But their lack of aesthetic appeal does not appear to damage the power that the baths have on the pilgrims who drum up the courage to surrender themselves into the care of the Hospitalitie de Notre Dame de Lourdes.

For the record the history of the baths puzzles me, because I cannot work them into the original story of the instructions given by the Virgin to Bernadette Soubirous. Those instructions were:"Go and drink from the spring", "Go and tell the priests to build a chapel here", and "Have the people come here in procession". I guess these three things are what is at the heart of the rituals, bizarre as they come, which take place in Lourdes. But, drinking from the spring is not quite the same as jumping in, is it? But the story goes that one of Bernadette's friends, who had a dislocated shoulder plunged her arm into the little spring that sprung up in Lourdes and was miraculously cured. From there on, I guess people came with all sorts of needs for healing and so the tradition developed of people being bathed. Anyhow, the symbolism of completely immersing yourself is more powerful than just dipping in your toe.

When I was baptised as a child it was my mother who dressed me in white, and held me to comfort me, calming my nerves. In the baths of Lourdes it is possible to understand that, through reminding yourself of your baptism, you are guided once again into a position of vulnerability and become compelled to trust in a new mother/child relationship. The handmaids who help you to undress and dress, who clothe you in white like your mother once did, call on the intercession of Mary, the Mother of God. They calm your nerves, reassure you and care for you. The complete strangeness of the experience creates a need for you to trust rather than fear, relaxing into the care of Mary as you once were cared for in the arms of your mother.

This is a ritual of healing and re commitment, but there is not doubt that taking a bath at Lourdes is a nerve wracking process. Even the second time around you are not quite sure what will happen next. Waiting in line you cannot see the next step of your journey, people issue instructions, but they rarely explain anything. When you finally move into one of the cubicles to change you are not sure what might be ahead of you, and you find yourself waiting, wrapped in nothing but a blue cloak doubting your own sanity for letting yourself getting anywhere near such a bizarre situation. But the handmaids who care for you, and wrap you up in white, pray for you and lead you into the baths are gentle and considerate. Their discreet consideration of your body is a reminder of the complete physicality of Christianity. It demands that people accept their whole selves, body and soul I guess the process reminded me that our physical bodies are as important as our spiritual lives. Still, it is impossible to go through the experience of the baths without feeling completely vulnerable. For many people who come to Lourdes, especially those who are sick, the experience of the baths is poignant because their needs are made central. Lourdes revolves around the weak and the ill - those who are ordinarily marginalised are central to everything that happens, their needs are thought about and prayed for.

It is difficult to have the presence of mind to pray for anything during the experience of the baths, but it is easy to trust that whatever you are in need of will be given to you. And, after taking a bath two years in row, it is possible to say that it has done me no harm, and may even done me some good. I know that many people who read this blog will think it very strange, and I think it very strange myself, but still, I think it is an accurate reflection of what I have thought based on where I have been, and you can't say fairer than that.

Dressed down and not expecting visitors

Photo: Bro. Lawrence Lew

"Pilgrim: when your ship, long moored in harbour, gives you the illusion of being a house; when your ship begins to put down roots in the stagnant water by the quay: put out to sea! Save your boat's journeying soul, and your own pilgrim soul, cost what it may!" - Helder Camara

 

I am not sure that it will be possible to explain about Lourdes. I do not understand it. I don't think anyone does. Helder Camara describes something about the need to be disturbed, and my experiences of Lourdes are certainly disturbing, uncomfortable even, but they are not negative. The faith of the crowds in Lourdes is raw, unrefined and primitive. There are no airs and graces: it is a family affair - Catholicism dressed down not expecting visitors. The vulnerability of humanity is displayed for all to see - not just in the sick, but also in the faces of people praying through every event of the pilgrimage. The faithful seem to forget to hide their emotions - fear of flying, nerves over travelling, homesickness, loneliness, depression, repression, guilt and exhaustion all make a public appearance on the journey to the grotto. Relief, joy, exuberance, forgiveness, hysteria, serenity and contentment find their expression too in the rituals, prayers and companionship of the people. That which is ordinarily hidden, buried deep under the illusion of respectability seems hung out to dry in Lourdes. All of a sudden you realise you are in a society which has no secrets, no subterfuge, no camouflage: human life here is emotional and messy.

 

With all of this comes a sense of disorientation. You wander around thinking 'what the hell am I doing here?' Swept along on the waves of the crowds for a while you can just watch and wait, listening carefully to all the seasoned Lourdes pilgrims talking about perplexing prayers, liturgies and rituals which are part of the daily routine: baths, stations, confession, torchlight procession, blessed sacrament procession, adoration, benediction, mass. Your senses are bombarded with the physical experience of prayer: the perfume of incense, and the smell of candles buring, people intoning the rosary, singing Ave Maria, the sound of running water the sight of millions walking, talking, kneeling, standing, sitting, pulling, pushing, praying. Whatever, you might be thinking at the time you begin to realise you are involved somehow in this drama. The sight of a young woman kneeling at the grotto in the dark, and cold pouring rain sometime around midnight brought me the one question that bothers me about Lourdes. It was freezing and the wind was blowing, and there was a positive flood on the ground. I was busy trying to figure out how I could get back to the hotel without being drenched to join the rest of the pilgrimage for some late night drinks, but there she was with an extraordinary display of piety. What on earth did she want? What do any of these millions of people want? Somehow or other my understanding of Lourdes has got to be related to the answer to this question. The strange rituals of Lourdes are all expressions of how people are wanting - hungering and, in the end receiveing. More on this later, I am going to try and figure a way of reflecting about some of the experiences I had one by one. I am not sure I will reach any level of understanding at all, but it might be a laugh to try!