This post is dedicated to the many Catholics in my wife’s family and to any of the religious faithful who may find meaning in this story.*
Our visit to the Catholic pilgrimage site of Medjugorje (made zhu GORE yeh) was something special and emotional for my wife, Florence. I found the place to be interesting. Mostly, I was moved by how spiritual it seemed, like an aura you can feel more than you can see. And that is how I would best describe my beliefs – spiritual but not religious. I always have felt closer to God in the wilderness than in a building, no matter how spectacular the architecture. Perhaps that is because the wilderness reminds me of what God created and a church or cathedral makes me think of what man has created.
Medjugorje, a remote, humble village in Bosnia and Herzegovina, is the home of the six visionaries who, as children in 1981, threw the village into turmoil as they recounted their encounter with the apparition of the Virgin Mary. The children are grown now, and they each still receive regular messages from the Holy Mother. To understand more of the story, I purchased a book written by Sister Emmanuel entitled Medjugorje, Triumph of the Heart, an updated edition of her first book, Medjugorje of the 90’s. The book is a collection of experiences of some of the people who made the pilgrimage to Medjugorje during the 90’s. The Catholic Church has made no official statement about the site. At this time they do not endorse pilgrimages led by priests. Unofficial pilgrimages, which may include ordained priests, are permitted. To this day over a million people each year travel from around the world to Medjugorje.
I have chosen one story from Sister Emmanuel’s book to share. When I first read this story it touched me with its simplicity. I hope you enjoy it.
It’s Me – Paul!
(This story as related by a French priest at St. Jacques Church, is meant to illustrate ‘prayer with the heart’, to pray as children often do – simply, without much formal training.)
Paul spent most of his time out in the open, so he really appreciated the porch of St. Jacques Church, where he used to beg. His most constant companion was a bottle of wine. Among his many illnesses, he suffered from cirrhosis of the liver, another faithful companion. You could tell by the color of his face. People in the neighborhood expected him to disappear sooner or later. However, nobody showed much interest in him.
One good-hearted lady of the parish, Mrs. N., had initiated some dialogue with him, and in so doing she was saddened by the terrible loneliness she discovered in this man. She had also noticed that, in the morning when no one else was around, he would leave his spot at the entry to the church and go inside, sit on a front row pew, and face the altar. He would just sit there and do nothing.
One day Mrs. N remarked to him, “Paul, I have seen you walk into the church many times. But what do you do while sitting there? You have no rosary, no prayer book, and you even doze a little. What do you do? Do you pray?”
Paul replied, “How could I possibly pray!? I can’t even remember a word of the prayers I was taught in Sunday school when I was a kid! I have forgotten everything! What do I do? It is simple. I go to the altar where Jesus is all alone in his little box and I tell him, ‘Jesus! It’s me, Paul! I have come to see you.’ And then I just sit there for awhile to show I am around.”
The days came and went as usual. Mrs. N. never forgot what Paul had told her. One day, as was bound to happen, Paul had disappeared. Was he sick? Had he died? Mrs. N. decided to find out. When she finally located Paul in a local hospital he looked terrible. Poor Paul was covered with surgical tubing. His complexion was gray and pasty. He looked like he was ready to die, and the medical prognosis was not optimistic.
The next day she returned expecting to hear bad news. But no! There was Paul sitting bolt upright in his bed, clean-shaven, looking fresh and completely changed. He wore an expression of immeasurable joy emanating from his face. He looked radiant.
Mrs. N. rubbed her eyes. She could not believe what she was seeing. Without a doubt she was looking at Paul. She exclaimed, “Paul, this is unbelievable! You are not the same person anymore. What happened to you?”
“Well, it all happened this morning. I wasn’t too well, you know. Suddenly, I saw someone enter my room. He came in and stood at the foot of my bed. He was handsome… so handsome you cannot even imagine! He smiled and me and said, ‘Paul! It is I, Jesus! I’ve come to see you!’”
*Note: You do not need an appointment to visit Saint Mary. Nor do you need to travel to Medjugorje. She has given the message that she will make her presence known every 24 hours. Anyone who wishes to seek communion with her should know that she presents herself daily at 6:40 p.m. local time in Medjugorje. That is 9:40 a.m. Pacific Time, 12:40 p.m. Eastern Time in the U.S. There is daylight savings time in Bosnia, so these times are correct when the time zones mutually experience daylight savings time. People around the world are invited to join with her at this time, and tens of thousands do so every day.
Do you have a special story or comment to share? Don’t be shy. I want to know what you have to say.