Faith in fate
LAST month, I had the blessed opportunity to take a day trip to Lourdes in the southwest of France. Though it was my second time, the holy energy that envelopes you the minute you descend from the town proper, and walk down the downhill slope which brings you to the sanctuary, and leads you to the grotto struck me just as strong, if not stronger than my first time there. If I were to solely look to faith to find a justifiable reason as to why this was the case, perhaps the grotto being under renovation my first time there had something to do with it, thus hindering the full force of the holy energy somehow. After all, the exact spot which has been preserved, and where the grotto now stands is where Saint Bernadette had apparitions of our Lady of Lourdes.
The solemnity of the entire place is indescribable, and like no other I have ever experienced. One that no words are apt in describing, and that one must experience first-hand in order to fully grasp and understand. While the place is not entirely quiet – think groups talking among themselves, the church bells ringing and Holy rosary recitation playing in the background, the sound of the wheels of stretchers and wheelchairs being pushed around on the cobble stones – in fact, it is hustling and bustling, to say the very least, the environment evokes a sound similar to silence so peaceful and serene, that one is naturally forced into a state of prayer, meditation, contemplation, introspection, and/or the like.
This time around, I did not take a bath in the piscine – a ritual devotees and pilgrims line up for when in Lourdes in order to bathe in what is believed to be the holy miraculous water – and chose to silently pray while waiting for my mom who decided to take the day trip for that purpose, and braved the lines. I did, however, experience it during my first trip, and I remember being stunned at how quickly I was dried right after, even with only a thin sheet of cloth to dry myself with.
While waiting outside the pools amidst herds of devotees waiting for their turn to bathe, my eyes were drawn to a special entrance on the side. Imagine this scene: A long line of what seemed like 50 (or more) stretchers, and wheelchairs being pushed by hospital workers waiting for their turn at the baths. From various parts of the world; from babies, to children, to elderly individuals with oxygen tanks, right before my very eyes were people who were there not just to experience Lourdes for a day or so as tourists, but who were there for a distinct and sole purpose. These were people praying, and hoping for a miracle. Whether as a last resort to a terminal disease, or as an alternative cure to medicine, what I was certain of is that these people were there for a common reason – seeking to be healed – and that each and every one of them had a faith strong enough to cling to, and believe in, to get by with every day till they hopefully surpass their trials.
One of my favorite songs as a child (from the movie The Rescuers) had a line that echoed in my mind that entire afternoon: “Always keep a little prayer in your pocket, and you’re sure to see the light. Soon there’ll be joy and happiness, and your little world will be bright. Have faith little one. Till your hopes, and your wishes come true. You must try to be brave little one. Someone’s waiting to love you.” And though that last line could be interpreted in a multitude of ways, taking it completely out of the movie context, I see it to symbolically embody the truest essence of faith – that at the end of every dark tunnel is a light. And though we may not always recognize Him, and knowing He will manifest himself in so many different ways, whether one’s prayer is answered exactly in the way one prays for, or in a different manner – that God will always be there for those who have faith, and who, in their most trying and helpless moments, choose to turn to Him.
And that is exactly what every single one of those in their wheelchairs and stretchers have chosen to do. To either forego the conventional means of medicine to get cured, challenge medical findings as they hope for a miracle when they are proclaimed beyond curable, or simply, augmenting traditional treatment protocol to cover all bases. After all, I see faith as an intangible, but a surely powerful concept, an aspect of life that can never hurt but is ever capable of giving hope. And although the story and instance of faith I reckon with in this article is that of my own (Roman Catholic), again, one can only assume that all those who visit Lourdes share my same religion. We must always remember that faith and religion are two very different concepts. Faith is welcoming and inclusive of all religions – no matter who we choose to believe in, the simple fact that we do recognize a higher being in our lives indicates our recognition of faith in our lives.
Faith. The non-sectarian, nonreligious kind will always be one hundred percent present if we choose to recognize, and welcome it into our lives. Though abstract, and to some extent obscure, it is undeniably what we tend to cling on to in the midst of conflict, or in seeking a last resort. However you decide to welcome and imbibe faith into your life is your own choice, but what is important is its presence. Remember, “Faith is kind. It brings to those who love, a sweet fulfillment of a secret longing. Like a boat out on the blue, faith steps in and sees you through” (When You Wish Upon a Star). And whether it’s through looking up, and wishing at stars, or fervently praying on a daily basis, I am a believer in faith, its distinct role in our eventual fate, and its power to get us by.