Lourdes

From my Facebook page, Monday 7 May

There is a certain ‘glow’ to Lourdes that cannot be described.

It has to be felt.

Regardless of your motives or objections or beliefs, or whether you drink the water or walk in a procession or touch the walls of the grotto, you will leave here changed.

There is something different about Lourdes. Something that renders experiences almost hyper-real.

My visit co-incided with the International Order of Malta’s annual pilgrimage to Lourdes – which of course I had no idea about when I first arrived.

All I saw was this glowing town, against the backdrop of the snow capped Pyrénées mountains, with hundreds of helpers in their red, white and black uniforms roaming the streets.

And I got it.

I got why so many people from all over the world travel to Lourdes in search of a blessing from Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, or to drink some of the water.

I got why traveling to Lourdes as a Handmaid or a Brancadier would be an extremely meaningful way to practice the virtue of charity.

It’s not about the blessing or the water or the virtue.

It’s about a connection with Hope and Peace, and something larger than oneself. And it’s about a respite from the suffering of this world, if only for a little while.

It’s about a deep sense of communion with God, whatever you perceive Him to be.

As I joined the evening procession through Lourdes that night, walking in the rain behind a statue of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception while listening to the crowd saying Hail Mary’s and chanting Pater Nosters, I reflected on my own journey through religions, and my own ever-present need to commune with God.

I don’t necessarily understand the purpose of walking in a procession behind a statue, but I do value walking meditation, and the containing quality of practicing in a group.

I get a little freaked out by all the praying in Latin – too many horror movies as a teenager – but I have felt how a group of Buddhist Monks chanting in a temple can open my heart.

I know how listening to the teachings of those who came before us, can help us make sense of our world.

I know first hand the value of sitting in silence, regardless of whether you call it prayer or meditation.

I felt a sadness at the desperation I see in those queuing to bathe in the blessed waters in hope of a cure, and yet I feel envious of those who have such a deep and profound Faith. Somehow there is something even more desperate in a life without it.

In the end, I don’t think it’s the Dogma or the labels that matter. It doesn’t matter if the practice is considered Christian or Buddhist or slightly airy-fairy, or whether you learn about compassion from Mother Mary or Quan Yin.

It matters that we are kind to ourselves and others, and find the time to listen to and marvel at the great Mystery inside and all around us.