WHEN I was a youngster growing up under martial law, Holy Week would be a time for what was then RPN9 to show all the religious shows, like Fr. Patrick Peyton’s Family Rosary Crusade series, movies like Spartacus, Ben-Hur and The Robe, as well as the films depicting Marian apparitions. I especially remember The Song of Bernadette, which depicted the life of Bernadette Soubirous, a young woman who lived in Lourdes, France, and reported visions of the Holy Mother from February to July 1858.
Four years ago, I was fortunate to have been invited by Philippine Airlines (PAL) to join a media group that would fetch an aircraft from the Airbus factory in Toulouse, France, and bring it home to Manila. Part of our itinerary was a visit to nearby Lourdes, now a popular tourist destination, thanks to Bernadette’s vision, and spring waters that reportedly have miraculous healing powers.
A number of my colleagues even brought along empty bottles to fill with the spring water to bring to Manila. And a few of them, the men, even joined the queue for a ritual submersion in its waters that are contained in several pools. (The women’s line was so long, it would’ve probably taken us half of an afternoon to be able to get to the changing area itself.)
We were told there would be no Holy Mass that day, but still, I went to the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception onsite to pray. To my surprise, there was a Mass, and it was in English at that, which was being held for pilgrims from the United States. I felt so lucky to be able to join that Mass.
Thereafter, I joined the line to touch the stones which held the grotto of our Lady on the spot where she supposedly appeared to Bernadette, and from whence the miraculous waters had sprung after Bernadette kissed the ground and ate the grass “for sinners”. When it was my turn, I said a simple prayer for my Mama, who had then been battling a medical condition which brought her in and out of the hospital.
I was curious to see what my colleagues were up to and saw a few of the men just about to enter the submersion area. I took the opportunity to take some photos of the people and the beautiful scenery. The crowd was thick but there was neither pushing nor shoving. The atmosphere was light, almost joyful, despite the throngs of ill people who had come for their miracles. And it was peaceful sight to behold the gurgling Gave de Pau River that flowed through the property.
On the way out of the premises, I would have to again pass by the Holy Mother’s grotto. And I, as I meandered toward the exit, just lost in my thoughts and appreciating the opportunity to be there, I smelled roses. It stopped me in my tracks, and as I turned, I was directly across the grotto. The sweet floral scent was pervasive yet gentle, as if beckoning my attention, and as I stood there, rooted to the ground, I started praying again.
They say when the Holy Mother makes her presence felt, it is usually through the distinct smell of roses. I started weeping because I felt the she was trying to comfort me because I prayed so hard for my Mama to be cured. It was as if the Holy Mother was telling me that things would be alright.
After composing myself, I made my way out, passing by the dispenser of Marian and Papal coins which I bought home for Mama. I never told anyone what happened until today. Nine months after my visit to Lourdes, my Mama passed away. It was and is still difficult to deal with loss, but somehow, I feel a certain peace knowing she is now happy and content with my Papa. In my child’s mind, I would like to believe they are somewhere up there, dancing the boogie, playing mahjong, or just having a ball watching over our foibles and kalokohan.
I don’t know why I suddenly felt the need to share this personal experience in Lourdes. Maybe because Holy Week is coming up, or perhaps, I feel our country and our world are badly in need of a few miracles and a healing touch.
We spew so much hate every day, and are inundated with so many events and situations that I can only describe as evil and diabolical. Unlike our time, our children today have very few exceptional and principled leaders to look up to.
But remembering how the Holy Mother enveloped me with her comforting presence that day in Lourdes, I can only hope that things will turn in our positive favor, and we will be alright. Perhaps the healing of our country and our surroundings will not be something supernatural, or come from some paranormal source, but from within us. As we remember to treat each other with empathy and sincerity, maybe we can make our world better.
Image credits: Stella Arnaldo