Cloyne Diocesan Pilgrimage to Lourdes
Grotto Mass
Last September I opened my door to welcome Harry. Harry is a rescue dog. He had known some rough days but realised quickly that he was safe and had found home. He loves our walks, dragging me out every day. He is happy out sitting at my feet whether I am praying, reading, or watching the telly. He loves drives in the car. He is almost the perfect dog. ALMOST! Why? Well because when he is alone things go wrong. Whether it is last Saturdays Irish Examiner, or next Sunday’s homily notes, nothing is safe. He can turn them into confetti in seconds. It is probably true for all of us, when we try to go it alone things go wrong. Here as we contemplate the Annunciation, we remember that the Word who yearned to be born into our world is the same one who tells us, “I am with you always.”.
A couple of weeks ago Harry tried a different approach to deal with his separation anxiety, he found a collection of poetry, and he devoured it. Thankfully leaving the poem I will now share with you intact. It is called,
Annunciation by Malcolm Guite
Lourdes GrottoWe see so little, stayed on surfaces,
We calculate the outsides of all things,
preoccupied with our own purposes
We miss the shimmer of the angels’ wings,
they coruscate around us in their joy
a swirl of wheels and eyes and wings unfurled,
They guard the good we purpose to destroy,
a hidden blaze of glory in god’s world.
But on this day a young girl stopped to see
with open eyes and heart. She heard the voice;
the promise of his glory yet to be,
as time stood still for her to make a choice;
Gabriel knelt and not a feather stirred,
the word himself was waiting on her word.
Our world is more “full of grace” than we often allow ourselves to see. Guite captures the modern condition well, recognising that we stay on the surface, calculating the outsides of things, preoccupied with our own stuff, “we miss the shimmer of the angels’ wings.” How easily we fall into that trap. Busy, preoccupied, we don’t give ourselves a chance to go deeper, to create that space within, where we can welcome the Word of God, where we can contemplate and respond to it allowing the Word to become flesh in us. We must open ourselves to “see and hear”.
It was to this spot in 1858 a young uneducated girl, Bernadette Soubirous came. By the world’s calculation she was nothing special. But the world doesn’t see as God sees. She was open to grace. Guite’s poem can bridge the gap for us between the grotto and that room in Nazareth. He writes “But on this day a young girl stopped to see
With open eyes and heart. She heard the voice”.
The angel Gabriel didn’t appear in a thunderclap or big public show. He came in the quiet. To a young girl who like Bernadette cultivated that inner space, that profound inner stillness. In this turning point in human history God requests permission from His own creation. The creator of the universe sends a messenger to a teenage in an obscure village. Guite writes breathtakingly, “Gabriel Knelt and not a feather stirred,
The Word Himself was waiting on her word.”
Imagine that silence. The entire universe held its breath. God did not force his way into the world. He waited. He waited for a human YES. For Mary to Say, “I am the handmaid of the Lord, let what you have said be done to me.”.
Each of us came here carrying our own burdens, be it sickness, grief, anxiety or like my little dog Harry, we might just feel alone. It is easy to look and only see the surface. But Mary and Bernadette stand before us here to remind us to go deeper, to allow that space in us to welcome, to contemplate and to respond to the Word. They remind us of the power of our own yes. We are to imitate Mary’s Fiat, her faith. Pope Leo in his recent Encyclical put it like this, “With the same faith as Mary, let us become “weavers of hope” in our world, sharing who we are and what we have, so that the presence of Jesus may grow among us and His Kingdom take shape.”.
In answer to Pope Leo’s invitation let us open our eyes to “the shimmer of angels’ wings.”, we see it in the love of the volunteer pushing the wheelchair, in the solidarity of the sick gathered together, and in all of us pilgrims who are as the song says, companions on the journey.
The Annunciation is not just a moment in the past, a historic event for us to reflect on, but a reality for us to live. The Word of God still desires to take flesh in our world, and sometimes he does that through our hands, our kindness, our patience and our faith. As we look at this Grotto today, let us allow time to stand still for us, to realise that God waits for us to answer as Mary did, “let what you have said be done in me.”.
