Lourdes by Sarah Anderson

Lourdes, a small town in the Pyrenees in south-west France, where the Virgin Mary appeared to the poor peasant girl St. Bernadette eighteen times in 1858, now attracts five million pilgrims every year from all over the world. I was first taken to Lourdes by my parents when I was ten years old; although I did not know it, the English doctors had given me just three months to live. I had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, synovial sarcoma, which initially attacked the soft tissue round the elbow of my left arm, and which according to medical opinion had spread to my lungs, hence the death sentence.

I had no idea I was seriously ill, so for me the journey was chiefly memorable for being the first time that I had left England and had the excitement of getting my own passport. I was examined by a doctor in Lourdes; then, like thousands of other pilgrims we prayed at the grotto and went into the baths. The old lady whose job it was to submerge people was furious when my mother insisted that my arm, which was in a plaster cast, should not get wet. My mother won. When we returned to England there was no trace of cancer on my lungs and although I had to have my left arm amputated six months later, I have never suffered any further illness.

In my twenties I returned to Lourdes on a pilgrimage as a helper, and earlier this year, I decided to join the Westminster pilgrimage as a volunteer. When I arrived in Lourdes remembering very little about it, I felt assaulted by the barrage of tacky tourist shops selling rosaries, plastic Madonnas and other religious memorabilia. However although it is impossible to ignore the blatant commercialism, it is quickly apparent that it is irrelevant to the true meaning of the place. The town is full of malades (the term used for the sick) in wheelchairs, in blue-hooded chariots and on stretchers; no one stares, it is the sick who seem 'normal', and the barriers between disabled and able-bodied diminish. It is as if Lourdes is the world as it should be, 'a vision of community', a place where we are all equal and where the humanity and compassion which exist in each one of us can be expressed.

The malades in our pilgrimage stayed in one of the hospitals and as a helper I was on duty for one or two three hour shifts daily; my duties included waking, washing, feeding and dressing the malades and accompanying them on one of the many processions or services held throughout the day. The patience of the malades, their dignity and lack of embarrassment or self-pity when needing or asking for help, was impressive and humbling: a quick intimacy occurs and the status of helper or helped becomes immaterial. A priest told me that he believed the skin between heaven and earth is thinner in Lourdes than elsewhere, and it is the realization that we are inter-dependent and that God loves us all equally, which seems to demonstrate this.

The whole ethos behind Lourdes is quite alien in today's rational world and being there sometimes feels like being in a time-capsule. Lourdes is a glorification of the irrational, a crazy system which nevertheless works to the benefit of malades, helpers and pilgrims. Lourdes reasserted the importance of the miraculous at the precise moment in the mid nineteenth-century, when science was gaining its apparently unquestionable authority. Now, at the end of the twentieth century, we know to our detriment the limitations of our rational and scientific age; technology cannot give us compassion, reconciliation or spirituality, qualities found in abundance in Lourdes. Ritual, something else we are in danger of losing, is another fundamental aspect of Lourdes: the rituals which include the Way of the Cross, touching the rock in the Grotto, torchlight processions, and taking the baths, happen all the time, so you are always surrounded by people praying and following rituals. The energy aroused by mass feeling means that emotions run near the surface and during the week I often felt overwhelmed, critical, uncertain and even rather panicky about my own feelings. There are so many external stimuli that I found it hard to be silent or peaceful, but I soon discovered that doing practical things, especially as part of a team, induced a kind of spirituality and unity. It struck me that many of the rituals at Lourdes were remarkably similar to rituals practised by Hindus on their pilgrimages: immersion in water, candlelit processions and touching objects, are all traditions with which Indians would easily identify. Hindus would probably feel very at ease in Lourdes, and I found powerful these symbols of similarity between two religions deemed by many to be so different.

Beneath the kitsch of the souvenir shops, Lourdes is raw and elemental; situated in rather gloomy inward-looking craggy mountains. There are rocks and water everywhere. The River Gave runs through the town. There are regular thunderstorms with torrential rain. Spring water gushes from taps in rocks; for many pilgrims, bathing in the icy baths is central to their being there. There was nothing in the Virgin's message to suggest cures, but she did urge people to 'bathe and drink at the Grotto.' Bathing is an effort for many; a doctor is quoted as saying, 'I do it as a believer. I do it in humility, in the spirit of penance and as a spiritual exercise.' I had to force myself to take a bath, and I met many helpers who had never done it, but after conquering my reluctance I went to the baths one afternoon. I was profoundly impressed by the helpers who undressed and dressed the malades with real consideration, love and devotion. Wearing a robe I was held by two women and submerged in the breath-takingly cold water for several seconds; immediately afterwards I felt warm and found dressing while wet easy [towels are never used]. It is not thought that anyone has ever caught a disease from the baths although the water, which has no special mineral qualities, is seldom changed.

Few malades go to Lourdes hoping for a miraculous cure, and although there certainly are a substantial number of cures. The daily miracle is that those who go in despair often find their despair transformed into hope, which in turn can have profound physical benefits. For many, the feelings of solidarity and belonging engendered in Lourdes can have positive and enabling effects back home. It is impossible not to be moved whilst in the presence of such belief and faith. Being in Lourdes helped put things in perspective for me, and by the end of the week my admiration for full-time helpers had grown enormously as I realized the limitations of my own patience and tolerance. I did not leave Lourdes in a particularly peaceful state, but, as a helper, I felt I had been involved in an intense spiritual experience which I would encourage others to try.