A funny thing happened in Lourdes the other day…
Our pilgrimage group decided on the spur of the moment to buy a giant candle to be lit for all our intentions. Many other pilgrims gathered round to take photos of us in the process; I guess very few folks opt to carry a 35kg candle in procession, singing Marian hymns all the way.
We were told that a candle that size would burn for three days, so early the next morning, before the sun had risen, my wife and I detoured to the candle pavilions after our final mass in Lourdes to see how our candle had fared.
We walked in the darkness past several workers sweeping out fallen clumps of melted candle wax, and relighting the remaining candles that had been blown out by the capricious wind. When we reached the last pavilion, where the giant candles were lit, we discovered that our candle had fallen over, and its flame had gone out. A couple of other gros cierges had also suffered the same fate, but strangely, ours was the only one that hadn’t broken in half.
All that I witnessed in the cold and dark became a powerful sign for me. It reminded me that all of us are constantly buffeted by the winds of sin. No matter our state of righteousness or faithfulness, Satan continually tempts us in myriad ways, and as sinners, we will likely fall many times, our Christ-light going out as well.
But we need not break in despair under the assault of sin. With Christ as the center of our lives, we can return to Him and rise again, whole in mind and body.
And even if we think we’re too weak to do it on our own, there are many brethren around us ready to help us clean out our minds and souls, and relight the flame of faith in our hearts. Indeed, we may someday be called to become these humble “soul cleansers” ourselves.
Should that time come, may our response be…”Yes.”
Many pilgrims have their favorite spiritual moment in Lourdes. Mine…was at confession, a ritual unlike any other Sacrament of Reconciliation I’d ever experienced.
For starters, I’d mentally prepared myself before confession as usual, with a litany of sins running through my head, but after I’d closed the confessional door behind me, I came face to face with my confessor, who said, “Let’s begin with a moment of silence to collect ourselves.”
Instantly, that mental list evaporated, and I sank into a meditative reflection of my real transgressions, which turned out to be a completely different list from before.
Then he said, “OK, let’s begin,” but before I could even begin with the traditional “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he extended his hand in friendship. “I’m Joe. What’s your name?”
No longer was I confessing my sins to God, with the priest as intermediary. I was now confessing my sins to a fellow human being, a man with (probably) his own burden of sin, a friend. A stranger, to be sure, but still…literally no barriers between us, and hands clasped in friendship.
It’s been a very long time since I’d come close to crying during my confession. Fr. Joe must have seen the shifting emotions on my face, because he chose his next words very carefully. “God knows how truly sorry you are, and He’s already forgiven you. For your penance, think of five people you love in your life, and tell God how much you love them.”
By the time I was done, I’d offered up almost a hundred people, including every one of my fellow pilgrims.
I guess this sort of reconciliation is a little hard to do on a regular basis in Singapore, given our propensity to rush through everything. I thank God for giving me this opportunity to experience a more intimate sharing of sin’s burden, and the joy of “making good” on my transgressions by turning outwards to lift others up.
5 responses to “Falling, to Rise Again”