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I went to the baths at Lourdes this afternoon and washed in the waters of Bernadette’s spring. It was the third time I have done so in four visits to Lourdes. And each time it is powerfully emotional for me. Hundreds of human beings from all over the world standing in line to enter the baths, praying and singing in different languages, asking for graces and healing for themselves and for others.

What is so powerful? It is the raw vulnerability that is rendered present as one approaches a tender Mother clothed in God’s mercy. A smiling Mother who says, “Come as you are and receive the mercy of my Son.” She exhorts and even goads us to trust in the One who first became all-vulnerable for us in her womb, taking our fragile humanity to Himself. …As we made our way on the line to the baths here at Lourdes, it is as though each inner doubt or fear was addressed and further elicited forth by an understanding Mother: “What are you thinking, dear child? What more? Fear nothing and hold nothing for yourself. My Son’s crucified love will provide all you need.”

In his Angelus address at Lourdes on September 14, 2008, Pope Benedict said:

“Before Mary, by virtue of her very purity, man does not hesitate to reveal his weakness, to express his questions and his doubts, to formulate his most secret hopes and desires. The Virgin Mary’s maternal love disarms all pride; it renders man capable of seeing himself as he really is, and it inspires in him the desire to be converted so as to give glory to God.”

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death. Monstra Te esse Matrem! (Show Yourself to be Our Mother!)

In the first stanza of his commentary on the Spiritual Canticle, St. John of the Cross tells the reader who seeks God, the Beloved, and who asks, “Where have you hidden, Beloved?” So many people suffer inwardly because they interpret their lack of sensible feeling in prayer as an indicator of God’s distance or else their failed “effort” at communion. But John of the Cross declares:

“we are telling you that you yourself are His dwelling and his secret inner room and hiding place. There is reason for you to be elated and joyful in seeing that all your good and hope is so close as to be within you, or better, that you cannot be without Him” (1.7).

There’s no need to look “outside” of one’s soul or to “conjure” the Lord by stirring oneself like the pathetic prophets of Baal who beat themselves into a trance with stones. The Beloved is ALREADY present. However St. John says “there is but one difficulty: Even though he does abide within you, He is hidden.” The means then to finding the Beloved who is “hidden” is for us to likewise make ourselves “hidden” by embracing fully the virtues of faith, hope and love. This is the “phenomenally unremarkable” but expedient and certain path to encounter the Beloved One.

If you want to find the Beloved in your hiding place, “Seek him in faith and love, without desiring to find satisfaction in anything, or delight, or desiring to understand anything other than what you ought to know. Faith and love are like the blind person’s guides. They will lead you along a path unknown to you, to the place where God is hidden. Faith, the secret we mentioned, is comparable to the feet by which one journeys to God, and love is like one’s guide” (1.11).

…Perhaps I should just try a “blog burst” (a series of brief posts) since it’s been months since my last post.  If I had a dime for every occasion or event when I thought “I should blog that,” I’d be … well, wealthier than I am now (but there’s no evidence to prove the good intentions).  The best blogs (and I do follow a few) offer something contemporaneous to the events they discuss–they’re “current.”  But given my very intermittent bloggings, I tend to take an inventory of the past few months and then make some comment on past happenings.

Why am I so reticent to blog? (I ask myself.)  Well, I don’t think it’s laziness.  Personally, it’s that I’m not naturally inclined to regularly publishing my thoughts or the happenings of my daily life.  Actually, when I discerned my entrance into Carmel, I was (and still am) drawn to a “hidden life.” Those who know me and my 6’2″ 240ish pound frame might chuckle to hear me say that (since I can’t easily hide anywhere).  But it’s true.  Our world is so awash in words and there are countless Twitterers and others who unreservedly disclose to the world their every thought.  Lots of digital noise.  Much of which is vapid.  I do feel like I have much more to listen to than to say.