The Shrine at Lourdes |
Celebrating Our Lady of Lourdes's feast this day, I publish a thoughtful sermon given by the 1934 chaplain at Oxford University.
Moses and St. Bernadette Soubirous are two figures from Church History which seem to have little in common other than both having the privilege of a visit from heaven. In this interesting reflection, Msgr. Ronald A. Knox draws parallels between the two saints. In the first part, a point-by-point comparison - in the second, Msgr. Knox focuses on the message of Lourdes in the form of its "10 words" - again, a parallel to the 10 Commandments.
Msgr. Knox was born in 1888, the son of the Anglican Bishop of Manchester. He became a convert to the Catholic Church in 1917 and subsequently served as chaplain to the Catholic students at Oxford University. He died in 1957.
We have kept the text intact from his original sermon of February, 1934. For further study, we recommend the excellent, classic book, The Song of Bernadette.
"Saint Bernadette of Lourdes"
About three thousand years ago, a man stood, thrilled with religious awe, on the slopes of Mount Sinai' in Arabia. He was a shepherd, feeding on those barren pastures the flocks of his father-in-law; his attention had been aroused, at a distance, by the unwanted sight of a fire in the desert scrub. And now that he had drawn nearer, he saw that this was not merely something beyond the ordinary, but something beyond nature itself; the bush before which he stood burned continually, but was not consumed. At the same time a divine warning came to him that he must take off the shoes from his feet in sign of reverence. He did so, and when he had done so the divine voice came to him again; he was to bear a message to his brethren, the children of Israel, subject at that time to a barbarous captivity in Egypt. The God of their fathers, the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, would deliver them out of their bondage; and when they had come out of Egypt, they were to do sacrifice to him on this mountain of Sinai. And, in token of the new covenant he was to make with his people, the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob revealed himself by a new name: I AM WHO AM.
Rather less than eighty years ago [ed: this sermon was given in 1934], a little girl stood before the rock of Massabielle, in the township of Lourdes, on the slopes of the Pyrenees. No premonition of any divine event disturbed her thoughts; she was at play with her companions, and if she took off the shoes from her feet it was only to cross the stream that lay in their path. She heard a noise, like that of a strong wind; she turned, and saw that the trees in the valley were not bowed as a strong wind must bow them. She turned back towards the rock, and a rose-bush that grew in front of it. And now she saw the rosebush flaming with something more bright, more pure, more beautiful than fire. She saw above it the figure of a Lady; what need to describe it in detail? Wherever Christendom reaches, the helpless aspirations of Christian artists have made that figure familiar to every human eye. The Lady said no word, but she made one sign, the sign of the cross; and the little girl, taking courage, said her rosary as if to defend her from harm. Then the Vision beckoned to her to come nearer; she drew back in alarm, and it vanished. She took off her other stocking, crossed the stream, and rejoined her companions, who had seen nothing. That was all; it was only in later visits that she realized what a grace had been bestowed upon her; that she, too, was to lead a world out of its captivity; draw it after her to worship God and celebrate the glories of His Mother on that mountain. It was only many days later that the gracious Lady revealed herself by name; lifted up her eyes to heaven and said: "I am the Immaculate Conception."
Rather less than eighty years ago [ed: this sermon was given in 1934], a little girl stood before the rock of Massabielle, in the township of Lourdes, on the slopes of the Pyrenees. No premonition of any divine event disturbed her thoughts; she was at play with her companions, and if she took off the shoes from her feet it was only to cross the stream that lay in their path. She heard a noise, like that of a strong wind; she turned, and saw that the trees in the valley were not bowed as a strong wind must bow them. She turned back towards the rock, and a rose-bush that grew in front of it. And now she saw the rosebush flaming with something more bright, more pure, more beautiful than fire. She saw above it the figure of a Lady; what need to describe it in detail? Wherever Christendom reaches, the helpless aspirations of Christian artists have made that figure familiar to every human eye. The Lady said no word, but she made one sign, the sign of the cross; and the little girl, taking courage, said her rosary as if to defend her from harm. Then the Vision beckoned to her to come nearer; she drew back in alarm, and it vanished. She took off her other stocking, crossed the stream, and rejoined her companions, who had seen nothing. That was all; it was only in later visits that she realized what a grace had been bestowed upon her; that she, too, was to lead a world out of its captivity; draw it after her to worship God and celebrate the glories of His Mother on that mountain. It was only many days later that the gracious Lady revealed herself by name; lifted up her eyes to heaven and said: "I am the Immaculate Conception."
Shepherds - A Divine Preference?
Moses was a shepherd, not by choice. A man of courts and palaces, he had been driven into exile, and served, in that exile, his apprenticeship among the flocks. It is curious how often God has chosen a shepherd when he has wanted to impart an inspiration that has revolutionized men's lives. Jacob was a shepherd, the founder of the Jewish race; David was a shepherd, the ancestor of its royal dynasty; Amos was a shepherd, the first of its sons to prophesy and to commit his prophecies to writing. And under the new dispensation it is not otherwise; the shepherds at Bethlehem were the first to hear from their cronies, the angels, of the divine-human birth, and you will find shepherd saints in every age of Christian piety—St. Genevieve, St. Paschal Baylon, St. Vincent de Paul and St. John Vianney.
Curious, did we say? There is nothing curious about it when you come to think of it. For God Himself was content to be described by his ancient people as a Shepherd; "Hear, thou shepherd of Israel," "The Lord is my shepherd," "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd"; and when the Divine Word came to dwell among us, He chose for himself the title of the Good Shepherd, and handed it on to St. Peter, the favored Apostle, when He committed to him the care of all the churches. He who would lead God's people must imitate the divine forethought, the divine patience, the divine gentleness which tends and pursues so lovingly the straying hearts of men. Shepherd to shepherd, God delegates to Moses his pastoral office.
St. Bernadette, too, was a shepherd girl. Not that this was her business in her father's home; but when she went on a visit to friends of the family at Bartres, the year before her apparitions, she was given charge of a flock of sheep among which, characteristically, she made the tiniest lamb her favorite. So she, too, was apprenticed to the shepherd's trade; for she, too, was to be a leader of God's people. And the gracious Lady who appeared to her over the rose-bush, was not she the daughter of a shepherd, St. Joachim? And will not she, like Rachel before her, have fed her father's flocks? Shepherdess to shepherdess, our Lady delegates to St. Bernadette her pastoral office.
Curious, did we say? There is nothing curious about it when you come to think of it. For God Himself was content to be described by his ancient people as a Shepherd; "Hear, thou shepherd of Israel," "The Lord is my shepherd," "He shall feed his flock like a shepherd"; and when the Divine Word came to dwell among us, He chose for himself the title of the Good Shepherd, and handed it on to St. Peter, the favored Apostle, when He committed to him the care of all the churches. He who would lead God's people must imitate the divine forethought, the divine patience, the divine gentleness which tends and pursues so lovingly the straying hearts of men. Shepherd to shepherd, God delegates to Moses his pastoral office.
St. Bernadette, too, was a shepherd girl. Not that this was her business in her father's home; but when she went on a visit to friends of the family at Bartres, the year before her apparitions, she was given charge of a flock of sheep among which, characteristically, she made the tiniest lamb her favorite. So she, too, was apprenticed to the shepherd's trade; for she, too, was to be a leader of God's people. And the gracious Lady who appeared to her over the rose-bush, was not she the daughter of a shepherd, St. Joachim? And will not she, like Rachel before her, have fed her father's flocks? Shepherdess to shepherdess, our Lady delegates to St. Bernadette her pastoral office.
Solitary Visions that Draw Followers Closer
Moses led his people, and they followed him, where? To the same mountain in which he had first been privileged with the intimacy of almighty God. We were picturing just now, a solitary figure in the desert, alone with God, no other human creature in sight. Carry your mind forward a little space of time and you will see the same man closeted once more with the same Divine Audience; but, at the foot of the mountain, what is this? A vast army of Bedouin tents, the migration of a people. More than six hundred thousand souls worshipping God in the mountain He had chosen. With all that, the vision is still for Moses, and for Moses only. The people stand at the foot of the mountain, with limits appointed to them they must not transgress; Moses goes up into the mountain, and is hidden by a dark cloud from mortal view. The people see the play of lightning round the summit, but the Divine Voice is not for them; it is only through Moses that the Word comes to them.
Yet that Word is sovereign; centuries go by, and the nation of Israel increases as the sand by the seashore, but still the memory of Sinai haunts them, and their dearest traditions are all prefaced with the same rubric, "Moses said."
Bernadette stood before the grotto on the eleventh of February with no other human creature near her, except two little girls, her companions, on the other side of the stream. When she knelt there on the fourth of March, just three weeks later, she was being watched by a crowd of twenty thousand pilgrims. Yet still the vision was only for her; for those others there was nothing but the grotto and the rose-bush, and the mountains beyond. They could see the smile that lit up the face of the visionary, but that was all. But the memory of her smile still haunts the grotto, and all Christendom flocks there in its hundreds of thousands, to worship in the place where her feet stood. And still she haunts the place like a visible presence; when you offer your lighted candle, you half expect to hear her cry out: "You're burning me!" as she did when she woke from her ecstasy nearly eighty years ago.
Bernadette stood before the grotto on the eleventh of February with no other human creature near her, except two little girls, her companions, on the other side of the stream. When she knelt there on the fourth of March, just three weeks later, she was being watched by a crowd of twenty thousand pilgrims. Yet still the vision was only for her; for those others there was nothing but the grotto and the rose-bush, and the mountains beyond. They could see the smile that lit up the face of the visionary, but that was all. But the memory of her smile still haunts the grotto, and all Christendom flocks there in its hundreds of thousands, to worship in the place where her feet stood. And still she haunts the place like a visible presence; when you offer your lighted candle, you half expect to hear her cry out: "You're burning me!" as she did when she woke from her ecstasy nearly eighty years ago.
A Veiled Face for the Visionary
When Moses came down from the mountain, his face shone, so that the children of Israel could not bear to look upon it. They saw there, as if reflected in a frail human mirror, the glory of Him Who had spoken with him on the mount. And Moses covered his face with a veil, lest even that reflected radiance should be profaned by human sight.
In May, 1866, the chapel which Bernadette's ecstasies had demanded was inaugurated at Lourdes. That July she took the veil with the Sisters of Charity of Nevers, and Lourdes was not to see her again. Did we think that she would wait there to tell us all her story, to touch our rosaries and sign our autograph books? No, the face which had looked into the face of the Immaculate must be veiled thenceforward; thenceforward we should not even see her smile.
Deliverance from Bondage
Moses was sent to deliver his people from bondage, and from a bondage to which they had grown accustomed, so that they loved their fetters, and were constantly turning on him and asking why he could not leave them alone. That was his chief difficulty—they did not want to be set free. And even when they had been set free, and let out into the wilderness, they were always hankering after the luxuries they had enjoyed in Egypt, always murmuring against the rough fare of the desert. While Moses was up in the mountain, the people he had left behind him in the valley made a golden calf and fell to worshipping it, as they had worshipped in Egypt. All his life he preached to an incredulous race, condemned, for their hardness of heart, to forty years' wandering in the wilderness before they achieved their promised resting-place.Bernadette was sent to a world in bondage, and to a world which rejoiced in its bondage. Those apparitions of hers took place in the very middle of the Victorian age, when mankind, or at any rate, the richer part of mankind, was enjoying material plenty to a degree, I suppose, unexampled before or since. And the presence of material plenty had given rise to a general spirit of materialism; a spirit which loves the good things of this life and is content with the good things of this life, does not know how to enlarge its horizons and think about eternity. She was sent to deliver us from that captivity of thought; to make us forget the idols of our prosperity, and learn afresh the meaning of suffering and the thirst for God. That is what Lourdes is for; that is what Lourdes is about—the miracles are only a by-product. You might have thought that in our day, when prosperity has waned and all of us, or nearly all of us, have to be content with less, we should have needed no longer these divine warnings from the rock of Massabielle. We know that it is not so; we know that in this wilderness of drifting uncertainties, our modern world, we still cling to the old standard of values, still celebrate, with what conviction we may the worship of the Golden Calf. The year of Bernadette's canonization finds us no less in need of public reparation for our common sinfulness than the year in which Bernadette took the veil.
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