FRANCE Lourdes
August 21
This trip to Lourdes had been a long-held dream for Merlita and Cher, one they had been planning for quite some time. It was finally happening.
We were packed into Mario’s 12-year-old Chevrolet Captiva SUV, driving more than a thousand kilometers from Avelgem, Belgium, to Lourdes, France. Mario was behind the steering wheel, guiding us along the long stretch of concrete highway. Merlita, Cher, and I filled the other seats, excitement mingling with anticipation as we began our journey at 7 a.m. The hours ticked by slowly, the rhythm of the road becoming a steady companion.
Along the way, the roadside scenery unfolded like a painted canvas, each view more breathtaking than the last. The rolling valleys captivated us, blanketed with fields of vibrant green plants – sunflowers turning their faces to the sun, tall maize swaying in the breeze, and other lush vegetation stretching endlessly. In the distance, the blue silhouettes of mountain ranges provided a dramatic backdrop, their majestic peaks rising against the sky, a perfect contrast to the sprawling green below.
As we finally entered Lourdes, the first sight that caught our eyes was a gathering of white mobile homes, assembled in an open, wide flat area. They looked almost like toys scattered across a giant playground. Families were outside, enjoying picnics around portable tables, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Children ran freely across the open ground, their play uninhibited by the day’s headlines.
We finally arrived at our hotel around 7 p.m., our bodies weary but our spirits high. We checked in at Hotel Panorama, one of the many hotels crammed into the busy downtown area. Mario had wisely booked our rooms days in advance, knowing how quickly the hotels filled up with eager pilgrims.
After settling in, we wandered around the vicinity of our hotel, looking for a place to have dinner. Our footsteps led us to a small Indian restaurant on a quiet street corner. It wasn’t what we had expected for our first meal in Lourdes, but the warm spices and the familiar comfort of good food were the perfect end to our first evening in this sacred town.
August 22
After breakfast, we stepped off the hotel and into our first crisp morning air of Lourdes. We were struck by a palpable sense of anticipation and reverence that hung over the town. Nestled in the rolling foothills, this small French town seems almost hidden away, a sacred enclave that quietly invites the world to come closer, to believing in the extraordinary. We found ourselves drawn to the sound of distant bells chiming from the basilica, guiding us like a gentle hand toward the heart of this holy place – the Grotto of Massabielle.
The first thing I noticed was people coming from all corners of the globe, their varied faces reflected a mixed bag of culture and languages, yet all here for a singular purpose. A family from Italy walked beside us, the mother clutching a rosary tightly in her hand, her lips moving silently in prayer. Nearby, a group of Indian pilgrims gathered, the bright colors of their traditional dress, a stark yet beautiful contrast against the muted stone walls of the sanctuary. A hum of different tongues filled the air – English, Spanish, Polish, Korean – a living, breathing testament to the universality of the Catholic faith.
We attended the outdoor Holy Mass conducted in French. Even though the words were foreign to our ears, the universal form of the Mass made it easy to follow. The unity was profound; regardless of language, we knew where we were in the liturgy. When the baskets were passed around, we recognized it as the Offertory, a moment shared by every Catholic around the world, a shared ritual that transcends language barriers.
Three Masses were taking place – one outdoors, one in front of the Lourdes Grotto, and another inside the grand cathedral. Each setting carried its own atmosphere, but all were unified in their reverence and devotion.
As we moved through the town, I observed the familiar scenes of Lourdes. Buses lined up, their doors open, releasing groups of pilgrims – most of them elderly. Many of these visitors were in wheelchairs, pushed by caregivers in uniforms, each gently guiding their charge through the holy grounds. It was a touching sight, a testament to the enduring faith that brought them here despite their physical frailties.
Throughout the day, I noticed people carrying plastic containers of all shapes and sizes, bought from the many shops catering to this particular need. These pilgrims carefully filled their containers with the miraculous water from the springs, believing in its healing properties. The water flowed freely from designated outlets, a constant stream of hope for those who sought it. The Shrines of Europe chronicles:
“Near the cavern, there are special fountains and water intakes, where you can drink or draw water into special containers. The sick also use special baths. Water from Lourdes is credited with miraculous healing properties.
“Already in 1883, after the first healings with water from the holy spring, a permanent medical center was established, which scientifically examines individual cases of recovery. Although almost 7,000 miraculous healings have been recorded in Lourdes since 1884, only 60 have been officially recognized by the Church.”
Merlita shared her story. She had suffered from a painful kidney stone affliction and, after consulting a doctor, was advised to undergo surgery. Instead, she chose a different path – drinking the healing waters of Lourdes regularly. She spoke of how the pain had vanished. There was a conviction in her eyes that meant more than just a relief, it talked of faith rewarded.
At one point, I caught sight of someone praying the Station of the Cross barefoot. It struck me as a powerful act of devotion -- the entire place was sacred ground. Each step they took seemed to carry a deep, personal penance, a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage.
Later, near the Grotto, I noticed a very young couple wrapped in a tight embrace, whispering prayers to each other after receiving Holy Communion. It was a rare and moving sight – a new generation finding their way to connect with the divine, bridging the gap between the ancient traditions of the Church and their modern lives. Watching them, I felt a shiver run down my spine. In their embrace, I saw a testament to the enduring power of faith, a belief in the divine that has persisted even in our rapidly changing world.
In the evening, we joined the candlelit procession, where hundreds of pilgrims gathered to pray the Rosary together. It was a breathtaking sight – a sea of flickering lights moving in unison, the faces illuminated by the warm glow of candles. The crowd seemed endless, a stream of people arriving from every corner of the world, their diverse features reflecting a mosaic of cultures and backgrounds.
As the rosary was recited in various languages, a poignant moment struck me. I heard a familiar line spoken in Filipino, voiced by a young girl. It touched a tender chord within me, a reminder of home amid the vast, shared faith of strangers.
I remembered Mario’s playful remark in Belgium: “Where are the people, Raymond?” – a wry observation about the empty streets, a subtle metaphor for the fading Catholic faith there. On this journey to Lourdes, his question took on a deeper significance. It seemed to echo the larger uncertainty facing Catholicism today amid cultural and spiritual upheavals worldwide.
As I looked around at the multitude of pilgrims gathered in prayer and devotion, the answer came to me with quiet clarity:
“They are here, Mario. They are in Lourdes.”
Content and editing put together in collaboration with ChatGPT
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