As a child in the Bronx, I loved to read. I always looked forward to my mother taking me to the nearest public library, about half a mile away, where I could take out a new book of tales or adventures every week or so.
One of the most memorable books I read when I was about ten or eleven was very popular at the time, “The Song of Bernadette.”
It was a historical/biographical novel about Bernadette Soubirous, who in 1858 had visions of the blessed virgin Mary in Lourdes, a small town in southwestern France in the foothills of the Pyrenees.
The author, Franz Werfel, was a German-speaking Jew who had fled to France to escape the Nazis. He and his wife found refuge in Lourdes, where they heard the story of Bernadette. Werfel vowed that he would write a book about her, if they successfully escaped.
A preface page to the novel proper had a striking quote, which I still vividly remember: “For those who believe, no explanation is necessary. For those who do not believe, no explanation is possible.”
(Some trace it to the thought, though not precisely to the exact words, of Thomas Aquinas, writing about the nature of faith, of belief.)
I was deeply moved by Werfel’s book, and it influenced and strengthened my early faith development. How? It’s hard to describe exactly.
Minimally, I think it was teaching me above all else to seek to do the will of God, no matter how hard or unattractive it may be nor what others may think or criticize.
It also strengthened my devotion to and confidence in Mary, a sort of projection of the love and care and concern I always received from own mother.
Perhaps, too, it helped me find a new perspective of my father and his faith.
About seven years later (a relatively short amount of time, but a huge change in maturation), as a young college student in a Holy Year (1950) pilgrimage to Rome I visited Lourdes and spent one night there.
It was a very moving experience, especially participating in an outdoor candlelight procession around the sanctuary with pilgrims from all over the world, chanting with one voice the same, familiar Marian hymn.
Paris, Lourdes, Assisi, and Rome were the main stops in our two week train travel through post-war France and Italy—and Notre Dame, Bernadette, Francis, Peter, Paul, and the pope were life models before us.
As I look back, from the vantage (or disadvantage) point of my late eighties, it’s clear that “The Song of Bernadette” was a powerful influence in my life, echoing through all my years.
What has driven me in the course of my life has not been so much any desire for a particular job, position, or career but seeking the will of God, no matter how hard or unattractive it may be—and no matter what others may think, or say, or criticize.
Over the years I have received an undue amount of attention and privilege, but that was never my goal, nor should it be—and I have occasionally received the opposite as well, also not a goal!
I’ve never had any visions, but, in hindsight, I realize that God has often and significantly intervened in my life directly or through others. God’s interventions, at the time, weren’t necessarily pleasant nor clearly identifiable—but for things like that no explanations are necessary!
11 February 2021