At last. After 18 years, I’m back at La Salette, the place where God started turning up the heat on my faith.
Hardly anything has changed; the most obvious difference is the appearance of shower/toilet cubicles, that look oddly like those on jet airliners, and not that much larger.
The most prominent feature in my mind remains the same: the giant cross of La Salette that greeted my tired eyes on that long-ago morning, after a terrifying night trip up a twisty mountain road in a bus two sizes too large. This time, we wisely made the trip both ways on consecutive days, giving us a smoother ride and more time for contemplation and long walks (two benefits of pretty much all mountainside monasteries).
And yet, there were still new things to learn, especially about the story of Notre Dame de La Salette’s brief but world-shaking (for me, at least) apparition. I’d completely forgotten about her unique appearance compared to all other currently recognized apparitions, shedding her traditional brilliant white-blue dress for a simple peasant woman’s garb, replete with chains, roses and tears streaming down her face.
Otherwise, it almost seemed like a meeting of old friends after decades. My feet retraced the familiar steps I’d taken up the hill to the giant cross, down to the spring fountain, and other places in between. My face recalled the blazing sun tempered by a stiff breeze. My lungs remembered the altitude and the heavy breathing.
It was like coming back to a second home.
Speaking of the La Salette cross, most people know about the traditional interpretation of the hammer and pincers on either side of Jesus’ outstretched arms: All our actions either drive the nails of crucifixion deeper into his hands, or gradually draw the nails out. While sitting in front of the cross, a different aspect of this symbology came to mind…
A hammer is a noisy instrument. Its sole purpose is to pound on things, generally making lots of noise, and is therefore a good analog to the fruits of human pride and selfishness.
BANG! Riches!
BANG! Power!
BANG! Casual sex!
BANG! BANG! BANG! I’m the KING OF THE WORLD!
When you wield a hammer, everyone knows it, and humility is the last thing on your mind. Think Thor the Thunder God.
In contrast, pincers are quiet tools often used to correct errors, to fix metaphorical wrongs. When you use them, you don’t stand out at all. Often, the only person who knows when you’re relieving another’s pain is the recipient, but as the Son of Man assures us:
Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.
Matthew 25:40
Then too, pincers work by curving round the object in question, much like the arms of infinite Love would embrace a suffering nobody.
Gentle extraction, or brutal pounding. Which would you choose?
Oh, and mountain goats!
I didn’t remember them from the last time, but they certainly made their presence known this round, with the cowbells (goatbells?) around their necks…and the smell.
Even here, a scriptural moment revealed itself, when I encountered a young pilgrim gently coaxing a lost black goat towards the herd that had left her behind, reminiscent of the Parable of the Lost Sheep [Luke 15:4-7].
We exchanged a few words about the goat, and I only hung around long enough to ensure that she wouldn’t get mauled by a frisky billy, but I’m sure the young pilgrim received her own blessings in return:
Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.
Luke 6:38