INTRODUCTION
TO LOURDES
In 1858 in the grotto of Massabielle, near Lourdes, France, the Blessed
Virgin Mary appeared 18 times to Bernadette Soubirous, a 14 year old peasant
girl. She identified herself as The Immaculate Conception. She gave Bernadette
a message for all: "Pray and do penance for the conversion of the
world." The Church investigated Bernadette's claims for four years before
approving devotion to Our Lady of Lourdes. Lourdes has since become one of the
most famous shrines, attracting more than a million pilgrims each year. There
have been thousands of miraculous cures at this shrine.
A Medical Bureau was established in 1882 to test the authenticity of the
cures. The doctors include unbelievers as well as believers and any doctor is
welcome to take part in the examination of the alleged cures. As many as 500
medical men of all faiths or no faith have taken advantage of the invitation
each year. Many books and movies tell the story of Lourdes. Even Hollywood made
a movie of this remarkable event in the 1940's entitled "The Song of
Bernadette" which won six academy awards. It is said, that no one leaves
Lourdes without a gain in faith. Moral and spiritual cures are more marvelous
than physical cures. Some go to Lourdes with lifetime prejudices, yet their
minds are cleared in a sudden manner. Frequently skepticism gives way to faith;
coldness and antagonism become whole hearted love of God. Again and again those
who are not cured of bodily pain receive an increase of faith and resignation –
true peace of soul. The story of two outstanding miracles that occurred at
Lourdes are told below, but I can only let you know my story of my personal experience
of Lourdes.
After my Mum fighting the malevolent, mouthed medics with regards to
getting them to except the fact that I had problems with my sight and them
telling her that there was no cure or
help and I was to go home and face the fact that I was to go blind, and as a Mother, she
was to except the story of my destiny of darkness, devastated, my parents
grabbed at any straw, to find promise of an alternative solution.
It was
this which determined my Mum to take me to Lourdes. For me as a four year old
child, this was a place where I had to
take a flight, to see a Dr to make my
eyes better.
Again
there were a lot of press people following us and writing as well as speaking
about us on the various media platforms! It was the start of winter and we went to
Lourdes, stood whilst adults spoke of their devastation, that the baths, were
closed for the winter. I did not understand this and knew that I had a bath
back at the hotel, so why all the fuss of me not being able to take a bath for a four year old child, the most
terrifying image approached me.
A huge cloaked
figure of a monster, all in black, slowly walked towards us. My frantic Mother
ran to her and she pleaded and cried. I got very upset, as I really did not like seeing my Mum in
such a state! I was so afraid of the
threat that was lurking upon us.
My Mum
backed away from the figure and I ran to her, making sure she had not been
hurt.
The dark
figure returned after a while. My Mum told me to go to her. I was terrified,
but did as I was told. really so scared.
The figure, I learned was called a Nun, bent down to me. My little heart
pounded. I will never forget her face. Her skin was like a brown paper bag, and all
wrinkly and the colour of coffee. Remember these were the views of a four year
old?
I remember
looking into her eyes. They were deep dark, eyes of absolute devotion! They
were tunnels of many years of pain and the lines which were printed into her
face, showed a map of sad tails, trauma and of true
life’s challenges.
I was
hypnotised by her. I was led away and took to a frozen empty building, that I
still remember to this day with trepidation.
It was huge and there was stone walls and floors.
I was asked through a translator, to remove my clothes. Can you imagine? It was
awful. Two Nuns took me by the legs and arms and dipped me into the coldest water,
which moments before, had been broken by a hammer as was blanketed with ice, hence
the closure of the place for the winter?
I screamed
so loud, for sure God would have heard me and some would argue he did?
I looked
up at the grey all around me and the two black cloaks which draped down to the
floor where I was put into the water. I thought
I was going to drown.
They
pulled me up after ages. Told my Mum not
to dry me just put on my clothes. This worried my Mum as she thought I would
catch cold as it was cold outside.
Then the
nun said to my Mum, that they would all pray for me and on my return to
England, help would be given.
s
THE STORY
OF GABRIEL GARGAM
The case of Gabriel Gargam is probably one of the best known of all the
thousands of cures at Lourdes, partly because he was so well known at the
Shrine for half a century, partly because it was a twofold healing, spiritual
and physical. Born in 1870 of good Catholic parents, he gave early promise of
being a clever student and a fervent Catholic. The promise was not fulfilled in
the most important respect for, at 15 years of age, he had already lost his
faith. He obtained a position in the postal service and was carrying out his
duties as a sorter in December of 1899, when the train on which he was
traveling from Bordeaux to Paris collided with another train, running at 50
miles per hour. Gargam was thrown fifty two feet from the train. He lay in the
snow, badly injured and unconscious for seven hours. He was paralyzed from the
waist down. He was barely alive when lifted onto a stretcher. Taken to a
hospital, his existence for some time was a living death. After eight months he
had wasted away to a mere skeleton, weighing but seventy-eight pounds, although
normally a big man. His feet became gangrenous. He could take no solid food and
was obliged to take nourishment by a tube. Only once in twenty-four hours could
he be fed even that way. He brought suit for damages against the railroad. The
Appellate Court confirmed the verdict of the former courts and granted him
6,000 francs annually, and besides, an indemnity of 60,000 francs.
Gargam's condition was pitiable in the extreme. He could not help
himself even in the most trifling needs. Two trained nurses were needed day and
night to assist him. That was Gabriel Gargam as he was after the accident, and
as he would continue to be until death relieved him. About his desperate
condition there could be no doubt. The railroad fought the case on every point.
There was no room for deception or hearsay. Two courts attested to his
condition, and the final payment of the railroad left the case a matter of
record. Doctors testified that the man was a hopeless cripple for life, and
their testimony was not disputed.
Previous to the accident Gargam had not been to Church for fifteen
years. His aunt, who was a nun of the Order of the Sacred Heart, begged him to
go to Lourdes. He refused. She continued her appeals to him to place himself in
the hands of Our Lady of Lourdes. He was deaf to all her prayers. After
continuous pleading of his mother he consented to go to Lourdes. It was now two
years since the accident, and not for a moment had he left his bed all that
time. He was carried on a stretcher to the train. The exertion caused him to
faint, and for a full hour he was unconscious. They were on the point of
abandoning the pilgrimage, as it looked as if he would die on the way, but the
mother insisted, and the journey was made.
Arrived at Lourdes, he went to confession and received Holy Communion.
There was no change in his condition. Later he was carried to the miraculous
pool and tenderly placed in its waters – no effect. Rather a bad effect
resulted, for the exertion threw him into a swoon and he lay apparently dead.
After a time, as he did not revive, they thought him dead. Sorrowfully they
wheeled the carriage back to the hotel. On the way back they saw the procession
of the Blessed Sacrament approaching. They stood aside to let it pass, having
placed a cloth over the face of the man whom they supposed to be dead.
As the priest passed carrying the Sacred Host, he pronounced Benediction
over the sorrowful group around the covered body. Soon there was a movement
from under the covering. To the amazement of the bystanders, the body raised
itself to a sitting posture. While the family were looking on dumbfounded and
the spectators gazed in amazement, Gargam said in a full, strong voice that he
wanted to get up. They thought that it was a delirium before death, and tried
to soothe him, but he was not to be restrained. He got up and stood erect,
walked a few paces and said that he was cured. The multitude looked in wonder,
and then fell on their knees and thanked God for this new sign of His power at
the Shrine of His Blessed Mother. As Gargam had on him only invalid's clothes,
he returned to the carriage and was wheeled back to the hotel. There he was soon
dressed, and proceeded to walk about as if nothing had ever ailed him. “Leaves
me to wonder, what on earth were so called (invalid’s clothes?)
For two years hardly any food had passed his lips but now he
sat down to the table and ate a hearty meal.
On August 20th, 1901, sixty prominent doctors examined Gargam.
Without stating the nature of the cure, they pronounced him entirely cured.
Gargam, out of gratitude to God in the Holy Eucharist and His Blessed Mother,
consecrated himself to the service of the invalids at Lourdes.
He set up a small business and married a pious lady who aided
him in his apostolate for the greater knowledge of Mary Immaculate. For over
fifty years he returned annually to Lourdes and worked as a brancardier. The
Golden Jubilee of his cure was the occasion of a remarkable celebration during
the French National Pilgrimage in 1951. Mr. Gargam sat in a chair in the Rosary
Square, surrounded by 1,500 sick and 50,000 other pilgrims while a description
of his twofold healing was given by the celebrated apologist, Canon Belleney.
His last visit to the Shrine was in August 1952: he died the following March, at
the age of eighty three.
THE STORY OF JOHN TRAYNOR
John Traynor was a native of Liverpool, England. His Irish mother died
when he was quite young, but the faith which she instilled in her son remained
with him the rest of his life. His injuries dated from World War I, when he was
a soldier in the Naval Brigade of the Royal British Marines. He took part in
the unsuccessful Antwerp expedition of October, 1914, and was hit in the head
by shrapnel. He remained unconscious for five weeks. Later, in Egypt, he
received a bullet wound in the leg. In the Dardanelles, he distinguished
himself in battle but was finally brought down when he was sprayed with machine
gun bullets while taking part in a bayonet charge. He was wounded in the head
and chest, and one bullet went through his upper right arm and lodged under his
collarbone.
As a result of these wounds, Traynor's right arm was paralyzed and the
muscles atrophied. His legs were partially paralyzed, and he was epileptic.
Sometimes he had as many as three fits a day. By 1916, Traynor had undergone
four operations in an attempt to connect the severed muscles of this right arm.
All four operations ended in failure. By this time he had been discharged from
the service. He was given a one hundred percent pension because he was
completely and permanently disabled. He spent much time in various hospitals as
an epileptic patient. In April, 1920, his skull was operated on in an attempt
to remove some of the shrapnel. This operation did not help his epilepsy, and
it left a hole about an inch wide in his skull. The pulsating of his brain
could be seen through this hole. A silver plate was inserted in order to shield
the brain.
He lived on Grafton Street in Liverpool with his wife and children. He
was utterly helpless. He had to be lifted from his bed to his wheelchair in the
morning and back into bed at night. Arrangements had been made to have him
admitted to the Mosley Hill Hospital for Incurables.
In July, 1923, Traynor heard that the Liverpool diocese was organizing a
pilgrimage to Lourdes. He had always had a great devotion to the Blessed Virgin
and determined to join the pilgrimage. He took a gold sovereign which he had
been saving for an emergency and used it as the first payment on a ticket. At
first his wife was very much disturbed by the idea of her husband making such a
difficult trip. His friends tried to talk him out of it. His doctor told him
the trip would be suicide. The government ministry of pensions protested against
the idea. One of the priests in charge of the pilgrimage begged him to cancel
his booking. All of this was to no avail. Traynor had made up his mind, and
there was no changing it. When his wife saw how much he wanted to make the
trip, she decided to help him. In order to raise the money for the pilgrimage,
the Traynors sold some of their furniture; Mrs. Traynor pawned some of her
jewelry.
There was much excitement at the railroad station the day the pilgrimage
was to leave. In addition to the noise and confusion that accompanies the
departure of every large pilgrimage, there was the additional hubbub caused by
the curious who had come to see Traynor. His trip had aroused much interest,
and at the station a great number of people crowded about his wheel chair.
Newspaper reporters and photographers were on hand to cover the event. As a
result of all this, Traynor reached the station platform too late to get on the
first train. The second train was crowded, and once more an attempt was made to
talk him out of taking the trip. Traynor, however, said that he was determined
to go if he had to ride in the coal tender.
The trip was extremely trying, and Traynor was very sick. Three times,
during the journey across France, the directors of the pilgrimage wished to
take him off the train and put him in a hospital. Each time there was no
hospital where they stopped, and so they had to keep him on board. He was more
dead than alive when he reached Lourdes on July 22 and was taken to the Asile.
Two Protestant girls from Liverpool, who were serving as volunteer nurses in
the Asile, recognized Traynor and offered to take care of him. He gladly
accepted the offer. He had several hemorrhages during his six days there and a
number of epileptic fits. So bad was his condition that one woman took it upon
herself to write to his wife and tell her that there was no hope for him and
that he would be buried in Lourdes.
Traynor managed to bathe in the water from the grotto nine times, and he
attended all the ceremonies to which the sick are taken. It was only by sheer
force of will that he was able to do this. Not only were his own infirmities a
serious obstacle but the brancardiers and others in attendance were
reluctant to take him out for fear he would die on the way. Once he had an
epileptic fit as he was going to the piscines. When he recovered, the brancardiers
turned his chair to take him back to the Asile. He protested, but they
insisted. They were forced to give in when he seized the wheel with his good
hand and would not let the chair budge until it went in the direction of the
baths.
On the afternoon of July 25 when he was in the bath, his paralyzed legs
became suddenly agitated. He tried to get to his feet, but the brancardiers
prevented him. They dressed him, put him back in his wheel chair, and hurried
him to Rosary Square for the Blessing of the Sick. Most of the other sick were
already lined up. He was the third last on the outside as one faces the church.
Let us hear in Traynor's own words what happened after that. This is the
story as he told it to Father Patrick O'Connor.
"The procession came winding its way back, as usual, to the church
and at the end walked the Archbishop of Rheims, carrying the Blessed Sacrament.
He blessed the two ahead of me, came to me, made the Sign of the Cross with the
monstrance and moved on to the next. He had just passed by, when I realized
that a great change had taken place in me. My right arm, which had been dead
since 1915, was violently agitated. I burst its bandages and blessed myself –
for the first time in years.
"I had no sudden pain that I can recall and certainly had no
vision. I simply realized that something momentous had happened. I attempted to
rise from my stretcher, but the brancardiers were watching me. I suppose
I had a bad name for my obstinacy. They held me down, and a doctor or a nurse
gave me a hypo. Apparently they thought that I was hysterical and about to
create a scene. Immediately after the final Benediction, they rushed me back to
the Asile. I told them that I could walk and proved it by taking seven steps. I
was very tired and in pain. They put me back in bed and gave me another hypo
after a while.
"They had me in a small ward on the ground floor. As I was such a
troublesome case, they stationed brancardiers in relays to watch me and
keep me from doing anything foolish. Late that night, they placed a brancardier
on guard outside the door of the ward. There were two other sick men in the
room, including one who was blind.
"The effect of the hypos began to wear off during the night, but I
had no full realization that I was cured. I was awake for most of the night. No
lights were on.
"The chimes of the big Basilica rang the hours and half hours as
usual through the night, playing the air of the Lourdes Ave Maria. Early
in the morning, I heard them ringing, and it seemed to me that I fell asleep at
the beginning of the Ave. It could have been a matter of only a few
seconds, but at the last stroke I opened my eyes and jumped out of bed. First,
I knelt on the floor to finish the rosary I had been saying. Then I dashed for
the door, pushed aside the two brancardiers and ran out into the passage
and the open air. Previously, I had been watching the brancardiers and
planning to evade them. I may say here that I had not walked since 1915, and my
weight was down to 112 pounds.
"Dr. Marley was outside the door. When he saw the man over whom he
had been watching during the pilgrimage, and whose death he had expected, push
two brancardiers aside and run out of the ward, he fell back in
amazement. Out in the open now, I ran toward the Grotto, which is about two or
three hundred yards from the Aisle. This stretch of ground was graveled then,
not paved, and I was barefoot. I ran the whole way to the grotto without
getting the least mark or cut on my bare feet. The brancardiers were
running after me, but they could not catch up with me. When they reached the
grotto, there I was on my knees, still in my night clothes, praying to our Lady
and thanking her. All I knew was that I should thank her and the grotto was the
place to do it. The brancardiers stood back, afraid to touch me."
A strange feature of Traynor's case was that he did not completely
realize what had happened to him. He knew that a great favor had been bestowed
upon him and that he should be thankful, but he had no idea of the magnitude of
the favor. He was completely dazed. It did not seem strange to him that he was
walking, and he could not figure out why everyone was staring at him. He did
not remember how gravely ill he had been for many years.
A crowd of people gathered about Traynor while he was praying at the
grotto. After about twenty minutes, he arose from his knees, surprised and
rather annoyed by the audience he had attracted. The people fell back to allow
him to pass. At the crowned statute of our Lady, he stopped and knelt again.
His mother had taught him that he should always make some sacrifice when he
wished to venerate the Virgin. He had no money to give. The few shillings he
had left after buying a railroad ticket, he had spent to buy rosaries and
medals for his wife and children. He therefore made the only sacrifice he could
think of: he promised our Lady that he would give up cigarettes.
The news of his cure had spread rapidly, and a great crowd was waiting
at the Asile. Traynor could not understand what they were doing there. He went
in and got dressed. Then he went into the washroom. A number of men were there
ahead of him.
"Good morning, gentlemen!" said Traynor cheerily.
But there was no answer. The men just looked at him; they were too
overcome to speak.
Traynor was puzzled. Why was everyone acting so strangely this morning?
When he got back to his ward, a priest who was visiting at Lourdes came
in and said, "Is there anyone who can serve Mass?"
"Yes, I can," Traynor volunteered.
The priest who knew nothing yet about the cure accepted the offer, and
Traynor served Mass in the chapel of the Asile. It did not seem a bit out of
the ordinary to be doing so.
In the dining room of the Asile where Traynor went to eat his breakfast,
the other patients stared at him in amazement. Later when he strolled outdoors,
the crowd that had gathered there made a rush at him. Surprised and
disconcerted he made a quick retreat into the enclosure.
A Mr. Cunningham, who was also on the pilgrimage, came to talk to him.
The visitor spoke casually, but it was evident that he was making a great
effort to control his excitement.
"Good morning, John. Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, Mr. Cunningham, quite all right. Are you feeling all
right?" Then he came to the matter that was puzzling him. "What are
all those people doing outside?"
"They're there, Jack, because they are glad to see you.
"Well, it's nice of them, and I'm glad to see them, but I wish
they'd leave me alone."
Mr. Cunningham told him that one of the priests of the pilgrimage – the
one who had opposed his coming – wished to see him. There was much difficulty
getting through the crowd, but they finally got to the hotel where the priest
was waiting. The priest asked him if he was all right. All this solicitude was
most bewildering.
"Yes, I'm quite well," Traynor answered, "and I hope you
feel well, too."
The priest broke down and began to cry.
Traynor traveled home in a first-class compartment despite all his
protests. As they were going across France, Archbishop Keating of Liverpool
came into his compartment. Traynor knelt to receive his blessing. The
Archbishop made him rise.
"John, I think I should be getting your blessing," he said.
Traynor did not know what the Archbishop meant.
The Archbishop led him over to the bed, and they both sat down. Looking
at Traynor closely, His Excellency said, "John, do you realize how ill you
have been and that you have been miraculously cured by the Blessed
Virgin?"
"Suddenly," Traynor later told Father O'Connor,
"everything came back to me, the memory of my years of illness and the
sufferings of the journey to Lourdes and how ill I had been in Lourdes itself.
I began to cry, and the Archbishop began to cry, and we both sat there, crying
like two children. After a little talk with him, I felt composed. Now I
realized fully what had happened."
Someone suggested to Traynor that he telegraph his wife. Instead of
telling her that he had been completely cured he merely said, "Am better –
Jack." His wife was very much pleased to receive this message. She had
been very much upset when the woman in the pilgrimage had told her that he was
dying. But she was not prepared for the glorious news that was to come! She was
the only one who was not, for the story had been in the Liverpool papers. Since
she had not happened to see the story, those about her decided not to tell her.
They thought it would be nicer to surprise her.
It seemed that all Liverpool was at the station to greet the cured man
upon his return. When Mrs. Traynor reached the platform, she told who she was
and asked to be allowed through the crowd.
"Well," said the official in charge, "all I can say is
that Mr. Traynor must be a Mohammedan, because there are seventy or eighty Mrs.
Traynors on the platform now."
In an attempt to save Traynor from being crushed by the crowd which was
growing every minute, the railway company stopped the train before it got to
the station. The Archbishop walked toward the crowd. He asked the people to
restrain their enthusiasm when they saw Traynor and to disperse peacefully
after they had had a look at him. They promised that they would do so.
Despite this promise there was a stampede when Traynor appeared on the
platform. The police had to clear a passage for him to pass through.
The joy of Traynor's family upon his return and their deep gratitude to
Our Lady of Lourdes could never be put into words. The cured man went into the
coal and hauling business and had no trouble lifting 200-pound sacks of coal.
He went back to Lourdes every summer to act as a brancardier. He died on
the eve of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception in 1943. The cause of his
death was in no way related to the wounds which had been cured at Lourdes.
The two non-Catholic girls who looked after Traynor at Lourdes came into
the Church as a result of the cure. Their family followed their example, and so
did the Anglican minister of the church they had been attending. A great number
of conversions in Liverpool resulted from the miracle.
Although the cure took place in 1923, the Medical Bureau waited till
1926 to issue its report. Traynor was examined again, and it was found that his
cure was permanent. "His right arm which was like a skeleton has recovered
all its muscles. The hole near his temple has completely disappeared. He had a
certificate from Dr. McConnell of Liverpool attesting that he had not had an
epileptic attack since 1923. . . .
"It is known that when the important nerves have been severed, if
their regeneration has not been effected (after the most successful operations
this would take at least a year) they contract rapidly and become dried up as
it were, and certain parts mortify and disappear. In Mr. Traynor's case, for
the cure of his paralyzed arm, new parts had to be created and seamed together.
All these things were done simultaneously and instantaneously. At the same time
occurred the instant repair of the brain injuries as is proved by the sudden
and definite disappearance of the paralysis of both legs and of the epileptic
attacks. Finally, a third work was effected which closed the orifice in the
brain box. It is a real resurrection which the beneficiary attributes to the
power of God and the merciful intercession of Our Lady of Lourdes. The mode of
production of this prodigious cure is absolutely outside and beyond the forces
of nature."
