Order
of Malta
Lourdes Youth Pilgrimage
21-29 July 2007
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check out my Lourdes media pages:
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Blog
http://frdunninlourdes.wordpress.com/
Past pilgrimages are archived there as well.
Video
Photos
For the second time, in as nearly as many months, I have
been to Lourdes. Let me give a quick history of how this
happened:
1.
Preludium
Four minutes before we landed at Newark on the May
Pilgrimage, I received a call from the Personnel Director
that St. Augustine's was getting a newly-ordained and began
the process of finding a new place for me. After
looking around (based on medical needs), I am now assigned
to Jeanne Jugan (an adult residence run by the Little
Sisters of the Poor). The place was built a year ago
and is beautiful.
So how did I get to Lourdes?
At the dinner on the last night, the following conversation
took place between myself and Hope Carter:
Father, you seemed to enjoy Lourdes.
Yes, I really did.
Would you like to be chaplain to the Malta Youth Pilgrimage
in July.
Yes.
Good. I'll email you.
Good-bye.
A Carter classic, I am told. To be honest, I had no
right to say ‘yes’ because I knew it would be
during the Parish Festival and that the pastor. was going
to be on vacation. But that was before the phone
call. Again, the sneaky Hand of providence was at work.
After my initial negative reaction to the possibility
of a move, my next thought was “YES! I can go back to
Lourdes in July!”
2.
Pilgrim Route
As 21 July got closer, I became less enthused. Some one I
knew (and planned to use) had to drop out because of family
matters. I looked over the list of pilgrims and realized I
didn’t know any of them. The idea of traveling with a
group of teenagers (eek!) and adults I couldn’t
picture was weighing heavily against the desire to return
to the Grotto.
But I have come to know and have started to trust these
strange and even unappealing twists. I went with two
Sisters to the airport ready for disaster. The flight was
cramped and I was practically strip-searched at Security.
Perhaps I was a real threat sitting in a wheelchair with my
Roman collar. Physically, I was not in a ‘happy
place’ and many of you know how much fun that can be.
And after one car ride, two planes, and two buses, we
arrived in Lourdes.
Tired, sick, and wondering why I was doing this, we headed
to the Poor Clare convent chapel in the basement. An
intimate, crypt chapel furnished in a most Franciscan
style, the Pilgrimage began with the Eucharist. Along with
a visit to the Grotto and some dinner, that first long day
ended.
3. Opus Domini
I want this to be a reflection, not a travelogue. This was
a unique event and effort because it was a pilgrimage to
assist the pilgrims. We were not going to Lourdes as
pilgrims per se but to the pilgrims thuemselves. In secular
terms, this was a working vacation. I was for me as much as
for them. I had never been a chaplain to any group before.
Nor did I know any priest who had been one to a group like
this. We received our Pilgrim Crosses and we were off.
In sum, the trip was wonderful. We didn't have a
single serious behavior problem and the uniform (sneakers,
khaki shorts, and white shirts with the Malta Cross and
name-tag) made things smooth. And what a great group!
These kids are completely normal as are the adults.
They had a serious kindness that radiated in a strikingly
ordinary way. What I guess I am saying is that they were
all more than just do-gooders. And while I am not sure they
all fully understood what this trip was about, they all
rose to the occasion.
Let me offer these reflections on three areas that composed
this pilgrimage.
The Prayer
Lourdes is a place saturated, built on and whose sole
reason for existence is prayer. Sure the gelato is great,
but this is ultimately a shrine of prayer. To gather in a
chapel for Mass with a group of people - some strangers,
some family, and some schoolmates – and
feel
the reverence is unique. In fact, from a priest’s
point of view, it is a goal. From that first Mass, it was
active. I heard it in the mood and tone of the singing. I
saw it in the attentiveness of their faces. It was
demonstrated in the way they received Holy Communion. This
was a group that meant business but not in any sort of
holier-than-thou way. It came from them and not from any
force or rule.
That spirit of devotion carried over to the prayer at the
shrine. I noticed how often a group of chatty teens would
get a little more quiet when they passed through the gates
of the Domain. Their silence in or even passing the Grotto
spoke volumes that they understood what this place was
about. They really prayed the Rosary and didn’t just
rattle it off. They were open to hearing these familiar
prayers in so many languages from all over the world. And
it did not escape me how familiar many of them seemed with
Latin when we sang the Pater Noster and others.
I don’t know if they caught me noticing. I guess they
know now that I was. I hope they understand how much they
inspired me and even comforted me by their prayer. Without
prayer, I don’t see the point. I think they saw that
too.
The Work
Ostensibly the reason for the trip, I believe they began to
see that it was really an outgrowth of their prayer. What
started as movement of the heart became a lifting of hands.
They moved the sick off the trains that had brought them to
Lourdes. Some were mild cases. Others were not. They worked
the baths and offered assistance to people who at times
were afraid or befuddled or with whom they could not
communicate. And they did this for hours and hours a day.
They saw things they would not ordinarily see. And at the
end of the day, they were tired.
Let me say here that this is the one thing I did not do nor
could I do. I only caught glimpses of them outside the
baths and got there too late the one time I was escorted
(that is, pushed) up the hills to the train station. But
night after night, I saw them at dinner with that tired
look proving that they had not spent the day idle. Those
who know the wonderfully comfortable green couches in the
Espange can imagine how easily they crashed there in free
moments. And while an exhausted teenager makes any adult
happy, this would make any parent proud. I never once heard
any of them complain. Nada. Zilch. And I was listening for
it. They clearly ‘got it’ even if and when it
was tough.
But there was one challenge this ‘work’
embodied that was a little closer than the baths or the
train station. That, of course, was the elephant in the
room, the priest in the wheelchair. The first day or so, I
think it was more of an oddity to them. It (or I?) may have
made a few uncomfortable or even frightened. But then I
started to get pushed here and there. They started to help
a little more. And within a few days, they were playing
with the cane or sitting in the wheelchair. By the end of
the week, they were asking me about M.S. without any
awkwardness.
The Characters
If I called them ‘pilgrims’, that would be fine
but incomplete. Teens and adults, these are characters.
Strong in personality and skills, they were not into petty
competition. I would go so far as to say that they more
than allowed the others’ traits to complete their
own. Far from perfect, they gelled rather well. Appreciate
the variety: a grandmother reading Harry Potter; a teenager
arguing Latin pronunciation. And don’t think I am
pointing the judgmental finger of evaluation here. On the
last night I was called “a chaperone, a priest and
another kid on this trip.” And I agreed.
Lourdes is about St. Bernadette as well as the Mother of
God. She was, as a friend of mine described her, a
“firecracker.” She was straight-forward without
being arrogant. She was honest and respectful at the same
time – something which most people praise but do not
like. She was truly devoted without the sappy affectations
of piety. Lourdes gives its pilgrims the freedom to be all
these. And this group had no trouble fitting into it.
One last thing before my stream of consciousness memories:
When we emerged from the hotel with the Malta banner,
heading to the Procession, people would stop, say hello and
make comments about the work they saw our group doing at
the shrine. It is a great compliment to the Order of Malta
and to those members who take seriously its mission of
service.
As some one who is not a member, I can see and am convinced
that Malta is one of the very few groups in the Church that
actually
does
something. These young people have that same spirit and if
they are the future of the Order, it is in good hands on
the right path.
St. Anthony of Padua said, “Actions speak louder than
words. Let your words teach and your actions speak.”
They did.
4. So what stands out?
The great part of posting this on a web page is that when
you’ve had enough, just close the window! That,
having been said, I will go on and just list some strong
memories. I hope I do not embarrass anyone or violate any
confidences.
Things said:
“Father, in the reading at Mass it said that
‘the Lord hardened Pharaoh’s heart against the
Israelites.’ But doesn’t that violate free
will?”
I’ve never been asked that by an adult. It said to me
that these kids are listening.
“Oh, this reading. I did this one at the Easter
Vigil.”
Again, these kids are not mindlessly ‘going to
Church’
“You have to be careful because old people will just
get up and walk around wherever they want to.”
“Who gets wheelchair duty?”
“What!?! Sacred Heart girls shopping? I’ve
never heard of such a thing!”
“Come on, Father, end this! Just say it was very good
but we’re all tired.” “No, I
can’t.” “Yes, you can, you must.”
“I’m not in charge here!”
“Uggggh!”
“We’ve been watching you - but in a non-creepy
way.”
From the movie Bernadette:
“Come, my little crazy one.”
“But she has a goiter!” Bernadette upon seeing
a statue of Mary
Things that happened:
Adely (the seminarian) rolled me into Rosary Square for the
Procession and I saw our group up top, waving. I
yelled up, "Nice, real nice. Leave the guy in the
wheelchair down here." One came down and they pushed
me up the ramp. When we got to the group, I asked
Kate Carter to take a picture since "I wanted to show what
real men look like." Several boys pretended to object
with a loud 'Hey!" and I proceeded to hit them with my
cane. On the way down, five of them guided the
wheelchair and to warn the swarms of slow Europeans, I
started singing "Here he comes, just a wheeling down the
ramp singing doo-wha-ditty…"
Another wheelchair event: After five of them pushed me up
the hill (with a slight detour to McDonald’s), we had
a lovely dinner in a restaurant and headed back down.
Suddenly, my left leg support sheered off from a structural
defect. Fearing the other might go, I told my escorts to
take me down the street, empty of cars at that late hour.
Note to readers: Four athletic kids running down a steep
hill guiding a wheelchair in the dark hours of the night
puts one in a state of grace and eliminates the desire for
Space Mountain.
The description of and exemplified use of my cane as a
‘pimp stick.’
The ladies who met the “non-skeevy” gentlemen
from another country.
The gentlemen who met
the…er…ah…”fine
ambassadors” from England.
The Harry Potter-esque ladies clad in their scarlet cloaks
– and not just on the final night (yes, I know!).
How do you get that much cheese on a plane?
I intoned the Agnus Dei in Latin. Most everyone sang.
Loudly.