Our Lady of Combermere

THE STORY OF A HIDDEN SHRINE

by Catherine Doherty & Eddie Doherty & others

Frequently we associate shrines with the miraculous or extraordinary. But such was not the case with this one.

———-

It all began very simply. In Russia where I grew up and in many parts of Europe, women are apt to call on Our Lady by the name of their village or country. So in our early days in Combermere, I began to invoke her under the title of Our Lady of Combermere.

When I set the bread before I went to Mass, around 5 a.m., I would say, “Our Lady of Combermere, watch over this bread and make it rise.” I would talk to her several times a day. When planting seeds, I would ask her blessing on them. Looking after the chickens, I asked her to make them lay more eggs. If I went travelling or nursing, I would ask her to protect me.

They were days of hard work and many inconvenien-ces, yet glad and joyous ones. What could have been more simple and natural to me than to call on Our Lady giving her the local, musical name of “Combermere?”

Then as time went on, things began to happen. There was nothing spectacular or extraordinary in them. It was only when we began to look back that we realized that one event followed another and another.

The first thing was the arrival of Fr. Gene Cullinane, a student of languages, who had specialized in archaic, forgotten expressions. He told us that the word “Combermere” had a twofold meaning and that the first part of the word, combe, was a very old French word for “a plateau in the mountains.” The second part, mère, is still the French word for “mother.”

So the word “Combermere” means “mother of a plateau in the mountains.” We were all astonished and delighted because Madonna House is, in fact, located on a plateau in the mountains!

Then on the occasion of the blessing of our first chapel in 1953, Fr. Cullinane brought us a song to Our Lady of Combermere. The music had been composed by a priest friend of his and he himself had written the words. We adopted that song, made it our hymn, and have been singing it ever since.

Time passed. One day a visitor asked if we had thought of how Our Lady of Combermere should look. None of us had. But as the discussion continued, we decided that if we had to draw a picture of Our Lady of Combermere, we would place her near our lovely blue Madawaska River, which flows very close to MH, her arms open in a gesture of welcome and benediction.

A few weeks later, the mail brought a picture of Our Lady drawn by a nun. It was a nice picture but not quite how we imagined Our Lady of Combermere. But we were glad to have it and framed it and hung it in a place of honor.

Some time later, Fr. Gene gave us a prayer to go with the picture. It was truly beautiful, and we began to say it.

One summer a woman came and immediately fell in love with Our lady of Combermere. She took a supply of her pictures and prayers home with her.

A few months later, we received a letter from her saying that, after making a novena to Our Lady of Combermere, she had received a great favor from her. In gratitude to her, she would like to give us a life -sized statue, preferably in bronze, to be placed outdoors at MH, thus making a shrine to Our Lady of Combermere. She would help us beg money to get it.

We were quite worried for we knew that one cannot have a public shrine to Our Lady under a title that has not been approved by Rome.

When we asked our bishop, he informed us that no new title could be used or funds collected until the Sacred Congregation of Rites in Rome had been consulted. He told us that it could take many years before we got a response.

We wrote to them, of course, immediately, and when we told her this, our friend replied that we were not to worry. Our Lady of Combermere, she was sure, would see that we received a favorable reply—and that it would be soon! We must confess, we did not quite share her faith.

Great then was our astonishment and delight when, in less than two months, we received a letter informing us that the Sacred Congregation of Rites had left it to the discretion of our local bishop to approve the title and statue. Our bishop, Bishop William Smith of Pembroke, graciously granted us permission to erect a statue under the title of Our Lady of Combermere and to have it blessed and to have medals cast in her honor.

Our hearts were singing alleluias and we were overflowing with gratitude. But the question of how Our Lady should look remained unsettled.

We prayed and thought and discussed the matter. A large donation of Catholic magazines had come to us, and one day we decided to prayerfully look them over. Perhaps we would find a picture that would strike us all as the very statue we wanted of Our Lady of Combermere.

The first magazine we opened showed us that statue! There she was just as I had seen her with the eyes of my soul! The magazine showed a statue of Our lady hastening with arms wide open to welcome and embrace someone, against a background very similar to ours. She seemed to fit right in. We all decided that this was it!

Though the picture did not give the name of the statue, the caption revealed that it was located in Santa Barbara, California, and was called “The Questing Madonna.” Well, Our Lady of Combermere was definitely a questing Madonna in our minds, too, for she was the patroness of our apostolate, questing and seeking souls for her Son, which we are trying to do with her.

We found out that the sculptor was a woman, a well-known artist, Frances Rich. We wrote to her. We were afraid that the fees of such a great artist would be beyond our ability to pay, and so we told her very frankly how the whole thing came about and how we had selected her statue.

To our astonishment, Miss Rich graciously waived any fee. She loved the story of Our Lady of Combermere, and she felt very happy to be able to bring her to Combermere. All she asked was the price of casting it in bronze from her model and the shipping charges. The work would have to be done in Florence, Italy.

We agreed at once though we didn’t have the money to pay for it. We planned to beg for it. We felt sure that Our lady of Combermere wanted to come here and that she would provide. We started a bourse in her honor, and when the money was needed, it was there.

The statue arrived on April 26, 1960, and was erected on May 17th, the thirteenth anniversary of the opening of Madonna House.

At the official blessing on June 8, Bishop Smith said, “…. I know that, as the years go by, great graces will flow out all over this diocese, all over Canada and the United States, and all over the rest of the world through Our Lady of Combermere and the great work to which these people have dedicated their lives….

“We seem to be living in a confused world, one becoming more confused all the time. As the years go by, it seems to me that the solution to the things troubling us will be cared for by Our Lady. She promised to help us, so long as we do our part.

“So if we listen to her words in whatever work we do, and dedicate ourselves to her, we will have an opportunity to make recompense to God for many of the sins of the world.

“Now we bless and dedicate the diocese and the country and all the Americas to our Lady of Combermere. Graces will go out in abundance from Our Lady of Combermere, and we shall all benefit from this center of the lay apostolate —all of us—we in the diocese and those outside.”

Excerpted and adapted by the editor from the booklet, Our Lady of Combermere, available from MH Publications.

Combermere Diary

NEW LIFE

by Dawn Kobewka

As I write this, spring is beginning, and all my senses are attuned to catching even the smallest sign of new life. That’s what winter in the northern climates does to people. It makes us ever so grateful for even a scrap of spring hope.

But we are blessed indeed —no meager scraps here—as life abounds wherever we turn. Certainly it does in the obvious places. The farmyard reverberates with bleats and bawls as this year’s lambs and calves gambol about on shaky legs, and the greenhouses are bursting with eager inmates pining for the day when we will let them out into the gardens for the summer.

The gardeners, too, are chafing at the bit waiting for the last of the snow to go and the ground to be warm enough to be tilled. Shovels and rakes are ready.

There are other signs of life, too. The first thing that comes to mind is Holy Week and Easter. All participated in making ready for the feasts and all were richly nourished through the labor of others. Our celebration of Easter, especially, was filled with a wealth of liturgical expression, homilies, music, festive food, and decorations.

A further expression of new life can be found in our newly- published book of inspirational writings, Inflamed by Love: Meditations for Spiritual Pilgrims, by our director general of women, Jean Fox.

And speaking of books and pilgrims, a local couple, John and Sandy Lynch, joined forces with the manager of our bookhouse, Karen Van De Loop, to inaugurate an on-line bookshop, Pilgrim Reader, in order to make more people aware of the fine selection of books that we offer for sale.

Though still very new, it already boasts satisfied customers from as far away as England and Germany. It is interesting to learn how eager people are to find the old devotional books from the 1920’s and `40’s. For some of them, a certain book has been a constant friend, accompanying them through joys and sorrows, and handled so much that it is now in tatters. So the prospect of finding another copy in good condition is thrilling.

The online bookstore also offers a selection of hard-to-find children’s classics, first editions, and other kinds of books as well.

The website number is: www.abebooks.com/home/ pilgrimreader

Still another manifestation of new life and growth is our recent acceptance of an invitation by Archbishop Adam Exner to open a Madonna House in Surrey, near Vancouver, British Columbia, on the west coast of Canada. Plans are already well underway, and more information will be forthcoming.

With World Youth Day fast approaching, Mary McGoff who is co-ordinating Madonna House’s involvement in this venture, is receiving many phone calls, faxes, and e-mails from youth groups about making Madonna House part of their experience while in Canada. We are wondering how many will actually end up coming.

But however many do end up coming to MH, we are excited about their coming and also about World Youth Day in Toronto. We are filled with expectant hope that it will be grace-filled for all of them.

Along with my thinking about new life comes the awareness that in order for life to be nurtured and sustained, there must be stability and faithfulness over the long haul. And my mind turns to Mary Davis, who has been tending the beautiful gardens and orchards surrounding us for 46 years. Because she loves gardening and sees it as a blessing and a privilege rather than as a “job” or “duty,” Mary pours herself out for the gardens.

One small example is that, beginning in early April, she and Ruth Siebenaler, another faithful gardener, “baby-sit” the plants in the greenhouse. That means that, taking turns sleeping nearby, they rise, perhaps twice during the night to stoke the woodburning stove to ensure so that the temperature of the greenhouse doesn’t fall to the freezing point.

Up at the farm, one sees the same fidelity in Chris Hanlon who tends the young cabbage, broccoli, and tomato seedlings in another greenhouse. One sees it, too, in Ronnie MacDonell and Tom Morrell as they help sheep and cows give birth and watch over the new lambs and calves. Ronnie, who was among our first farmers, has been working on the farm for 46 years.

For a celibate community, we do a fair amount of nurturing of new life.

Reflecting on all this, my mind goes back to a pithy little sentence planted in our hearts by Lauretta Santarossa back in March. Lauretta had come from Toronto to be our guest speaker for the final talk of this year’s lecture series. The tal

Lauretta spoke about Mary Gardens, gardens entirely composed of flowers which are either named for the Mother of God (such as marigolds) or have some connection with her. (In recent years, there has been a renewed interest in Mary Gardens.) She also told us about her own small Mary Garden and about the connection people have always seen between gardens and God and the spiritual life.

The talk was augmented by Lauretta’s beautiful slides and picture books and by a profusion of live greeneryplants that were brought from throughout MH to decorate the lecture room for the occasion. What a cheer-up at a time when winter was still very much with us!

And what was Lauretta’s pithy little sentence? Throughout her talk, Lauretta kept repeating “as in the garden, so in the spiritual life.”

What was that all about? Well really, it’s quite obvious. If one neglects the garden, spends no time there, does not labor there, the weeds will grow up and become unmanageable. Eventually the garden will become a wasteland. So, too, our souls, or anything else with which we have been entrusted.

We have each been entrusted with a portion of Our Lord’s garden, a portion needing tending and nurturing.

How does your garden grow?

Word Made Flesh

DINNER WITH A SINNER

by Fr. Pat McNulty

The following is a reflection on the Gospel for the Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 9th (Mt 9:9-13)

———-

I was watching the disheveled young woman carrying her illegitimate baby board the 7 a.m. city bus. Then just before the doors hissed shut, she got off the bus, ran to me, and kissing me on the cheek said, loud enough for everyone around to hear, “Thanks, Fr. McNulty. I may be back again tonight.” And because I used to be stationed at the cathedral across the street and used to say the 7:15 Mass there, I knew many of the people who had just gotten off the bus on their way to that Mass!

I don’t remember what I did after the lady kissed me there in public, but years later someone who saw it all said that I just shook my head and walked away. If that’s true, then I was probably thinking something like, “It couldn’t have turned out worse if I had planned it myself, Lord!”

And, if the look on the face of the priest going into the chancery office next to the bus stop was a sign of anything, it was a sign to me that my new downtown ministry was going to be dead before it even got off the ground.

Priests were generally not kissed at 7 in the morning at a city bus stop by a woman with a baby saying, “I may back again tonight, Father.” Certainly not in 1968!

Why does that incident come to mind when I read this hopeful account from the Gospel of Matthew for this Sunday in Ordinary Time? Well, I think it is because this event was one of the first in my life as a priest when I was in a public situation which everyone around could easily have interpreted in a very scandalous way. (I learned a few years later that some did interpret the situation that way.)

As I climbed back up the stairs to my apartment that morning, what was in my heart was shame at having been seen in public with that particular woman under those particular circumstances without having the chance to explain it to everyone who saw it.

Living on the second story of the abandoned building across from the chancery office and the cathedral had been my own crazy idea. Though it was not met with the instant approval of my bishop, he had permitted me to try it out.

It was to be an “open door ministry.” I put a sign on the door which was visible from the bus stop, a sign that read, “Roman Catholic priest available for coffee and chatting.”

The woman getting on the bus had come to see me many times. She was a troubled and well-known promiscuous lady. This time she had come late at night to get away from an abusive situation. She had come in tears and fear and with a badly bruised face.

Because it was so late and I had no car, I did the obvious. I slept in an empty room at the back of the building and let her and the baby sleep in my one-room apartment.

That morning she was taking the bus to her mother’s in order to leave the baby there so that she could go to work. In her own childlike fashion, her action at the bus stop had really been a nervous but heartfelt, “Thank you.”

But at the time, I was too embarrassed and too proud to see it. And yet, every time I hear these words from Hosea on the lips of Jesus, for I desire mercy, not sacrifice (Hosea 6:6), I do see it and I thank God for these words and for her. For this young woman was probably the first person in my priestly life who forced me to face my arrogance about eating with sinners and tax collectors (Mt 9:11).

Until that morning, it had been easy for me to admit that I was “a sinner.” But it was a very philosophical thing much as I might have said, “I am a human being” or “I am a person.”

And even though I was secretly humble enough to know that I really was a sinner, it usually did not come off that way in public. In public I mostly gave the impression that it’s “them” and “us,” those who really sin and the rest of us who are only sinners in that generic, rather non-culpable sense.

I believe that at 7 a.m. that morning I discovered, much to my chagrin, which group I would have been in if I had been there in this Gospel event, and why I had never really understood what Jesus meant when he said, what I want is mercy not sacrifice.

Oh, as a Christian and a priest I always (kind of) knew, in that same philosophical sense, what Jesus meant when he said those words. But I wonder if I would ever have known what he really meant unless I had learned to sit down with sinners and tax collectors over and over and over for so many years until I finally really realized that: I am a sinner. And that, like all sinners, what I need is mercy not sacrifice.

If we Christians really believed that, we would be much more compassionate and risky with the message of the Gospel and not so concerned about our precious public image. We would not be so embarrassed to be seen in public with well-known sinners. And we would not need to give an explanation to anyone for this because we would have learned through the awareness of our own sins, that we too need mercy long before we make any sacrifice.

I remember the famous incident between Ruth Carter-Stapelton, President Jimmy Carter’s sister, and the publisher of Hustler, a pornographic magazine. Mrs. Stapelton invited the publisher to her home where she and her husband had a private dinner with him. It was the compassion expressed by Mrs. Stapelton that eventually led to this man’s conversion.

His subsequent loss of faith and his return to the pornography industry seems to have been the result of an attempt on his life and the permanent disability and addiction to pain medication resulting from it.

But the fact remains that the message of this Sunday’s Gospel was planted in his heart by a Christian woman who was not afraid to be seen in the company of sinners and tax collectors. And I pray that one day before he dies, he will turn to Jesus again.

If we are afraid to be seen with sinners, then how will they ever know Jesus? But even more important, how will we ever believe that we are really sinners, too?

When was the last time you had dinner with a sinner? Besides yourself, that is?

My Story

I BELONG TO MARY

by Cheryl Ann Smith

I was born in a Marian year, and I always belonged to Our Lady. But because I was born into a Protestant family, it was a long time before I knew it.

One day when I was a child, on a dare I peeked into the local Catholic school and was terrified by what I saw. It was only fifteen years later that I learned that what I had seen was a statue of Our Lady.

That was the sum total of my experience of the Catholic Church and the Mother of Goduntil I fell in love with a Catholic man. It was Jacques who introduced me to both, and I eventually decided to become a Catholic.

I knew that the Eucharist would bring Jesus into my deepest being, and I wanted to receive him. I needed to receive him in this way. But a week before my profession of faith, I almost backed out because I realized that I had no sense of Mary as my mother.

In fact, I was gripped by a Protestant suspicion that she’d somehow dilute my relationship with Jesus. And since Jesus had always been my great love, I could not bear the thought. But I knew that it was God’s will that I become a Catholic, and so I just had to move in faith.

Then two years later, I found myself in Madonna House. And there, within the first week, I experienced a profound desire to know Our Lady.

I’m quite sure she inspired that desire and was already drawing me, for almost immediately after I experienced this desire, I sensed her presence, and I loved her. What’s more, I knew she was my spiritual mother. And I knew that she had always loved me, even when I had ignored and rejected her.

Three years later, I returned to MH with a burning question. Was this my vocation? Even though I hadn’t prayed much to Our Lady during those intervening years, it was she whom I instinctively asked to give me the clarity and certainty I needed. And when I did, Mary gave me such a certainty that my doubts vanished.

My earthly mother carried me for nine months in her own body and brought me into this world. I don’t necessarily think about her every day, but I will always be her daughter, sharing the same flesh and the same spirit.

Similarly, my spiritual mother Mary has always carried me in her being, even when I didn’t know her. As with my earthly mother, I may not be consciously aware of her every day, but I am so grounded in her that she infuses everything I do.

The times I find myself praying most fervently to her are those times when something is clouding my relationship with Jesus. Since her only desire is to bring me more and more deeply into the heart of her Son, how could she not answer my plea?

It is easier to articulate my relationship with Jesus and the impact he has on what I do than it is to articulate my relationship with Mary. Jesus is my life. He is the source and end of who I am and all I do. Every breath I take is in him. He is the love of my life, my Divine Spouse.

But Our Lady is hidden. Though she was the one who brought Jesus into the world, who inaugurated his public life at Cana, and who stood by him until his last breath on earth, few of her words are recorded in the Scriptures.

There’s a wonderful book on Mary entitled A Woman Wrapped in Silence by John W. Lynch. That’s really who she is. And that’s who she is in my life.

Our foundress Catherine once expressed this reality. One evening she poured out her heart to the staff in a talk articulating the spirit of MH.

When she finished, one of our priests said, “But Catherine, you haven’t said anything about Our Lady.”

Taken aback, she was momentarily at a loss for words. Then she said, “Well, it’s self evident… But sometimes it’s difficult to speak about the self-evident. The spirit of Madonna House is so wrapped up in Mary that I didn’t mention her.

“Who else can teach you to burn with the fire of love, than the mother of fair love? Who else can teach you to go through silence, deserts, pain and sorrow, joy and gladness, than the woman wrapped in silence? All that we do in this house, we do through Mary.”

The role Mary plays in my own ministry is like this: hidden yet crucial. I have two main areas of responsibility in Madonna House. One is leading our liturgical musicdirecting our schola, teaching music, training cantors, guiding us all through the music of the liturgical seasons.

Our Lady is present throughout. Who provided the first church or temple for Jesus? She did in her womb. Who sang the first songs he heard on earth? She did. How could she not be present?

She is present whenever we sing praise to the Father through her Son. Our praise to the Father is her delight and her desire. So when I ask for her protection and blessing as we sing, how could she not respond? In fact, I believe she sings with us!

My other call in MH is as director of formation for our applicants. `Novice mistress’ is the more familiar term. Again Our Lady is present as I lead our applicants deeper into the heart of our MH and Gospel life.

Both music and spiritual formation are pathways to the heart of her Son. She brought Jesus into the world. In a sense, she was the first pathway to him. Her whole being is given to leading all her children to him.

We have a statue of Our Lady of Combermere in which she is running towards her children, offering shelter in her arms.

Almost every time I pass by this statue, someone is praying to her, weeping by her, placing a flower in her fingers.

For most of us, it’s a daily practice to entrust the day to her loving care. She is our Mother. What greater prayer could I offer for the applicants than to give them each day to our Mother?

Mary is present in all I touch, in all I sing, whether I am conscious of her or not. Yet what blessing is released when I call on her to envelope the music, the applicants, our whole life in her tender love!

We are surrounded by an ocean of Mary’s maternal tenderness. She calls out to us: “Entrust everything to mewho you are, what you do, those you serve, the people you hold in your heartand I will carry you in my arms to my Son.” Who can resist that promise?

My Story

FLOWERS IN THE WIND

by Genevieve Enoe

Our Lady is and always has been a tender, caring mother to me. My devotion to her, or rather, my walk through life with her, began at my mother’s knees, my mother who has always had a great devotion to her, a lively faith and trust in her.

I remember the day my parents consecrated the family to the Mother of God. At around 10 AM, we all went to the parish church where our pastor was waiting for us. Each of us, except my little brother who was too young, went to confession; and then our pastor came home with us, prayed and blessed us, the house, and all the surroundings. Then we each signed our names on two picturesthe Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Father blessed these too and enthroned them in our living room.

I grew up on Carriacou, a tiny island in the Caribbean Sea, and I remember very clearly the night of September 22, 1955, when Hurricane Janet was devastating the island.

I was a little child then, and during the worst part of the storm, my mother lifted each of us, one by one, up to Mary. While doing so, she said to her, “Our Lady, look at these little ones in my arms. You promised to take care of us. We need you now.”

Shortly after that, she dozed off and had a dream. She dreamt that someone said to her, “You invoked Our Lady, but she is out there right now.” Then she saw Our Lady waving a bouquet of flowers in the wind.

She woke up, and she could hear that the wind was beginning to decrease. Bigger houses than ours were smashed during that hurricane, but not the slightest damage was done to ours or to any of us.

Maybe it was from that experience, maybe it was in gratitude for her protection, I don’t know, but after that I could not refuse her anything.

And always whenever I passed the church, I would stop in for a few minutes to talk with her. Sometimes I would slip a note under her statue to remind her of my upcoming exams or some other concern.

When I was about eleven, I joined the junior presidium of the Legion of Mary, and later the senior presidium. Then one day the pastor asked me to be president of the junior group while still remaining a member of the senior. I belonged to a number of organizations and told him I already had a full schedule. But he persisted.

“Can’t you give up one of your organizations for Our Lady?” he asked.

He had touched my soft spot. I agreed to do it and later even found time to begin a third presidium for young adults.

I was 16 when Madonna House opened a house on Carriacou. Already I was considering a religious vocation and had begun reading about the different orders in order to choose one. The spirit of the Carmelites held me for a while. But then Our Lady gently led me to her daughters of Madonna House.

I could see that her spirit was in that housea welcoming spirit, a spirit of hospitality. I saw in the staff the desire to be one with my people and the desire and effort to live the Gospel without compromise. It was the home of Our Lady and Jesus dwelt there, and so I felt at home there. I learned more about it and was caught by Our Lady, and I let myself be caught.

When I went to Combermere in 1966 to begin my formation, I was very drawn by the statue of Our Lady of Combermere. With her outstretched arms reaching out to her children she often reminds me of the words spoken to Juan Diego by Our Lady of Guadalupe: “Am I not your Mother? Do I not hold you in the folds of my mantle?”

During my whole time in Combermere during that first stay, it was at the feet of Our Lady of Combermere that I often spent my free moments. When I was homesick, or struggling with living in a new culture, or having a personal problem, or when I just wanted to relax, it was to her that I turned. She was my consolation. And was it not she who had brought me here?

Our Lady has always been and is my teacher, guide, and leader. And she has always come to my help when I have called upon her.

One time I felt the presence of the evil one, and in my fear I called out to her, “Come, my Mother. I need you now.” Immediately, I felt her presence.

And on another occasion, when I was feeling anxiety, I said to her, “Come and stand by my side and all will be well.” That time, too, I felt her presence and peace.

Once when I was travelling in Rome and got lost, I had only to ask her, and someone appeared to give me directions.

And in more recent years, when I was director of Madonna House in Liberia during the civil war, I knew she was with us. We called upon her many times a day asking her to protect the city and to protect all her children. We walked around the city putting her medals here and there and claiming those places for her. When we finally had to leave the country, we left in safety.

Our Lady is the epitome of care and concern, of tenderness and gentleness, of motherly love and affection. She has given me an example of womanhood and has patiently taught me what it is to be a womanstrong and gentle and courageous in times of difficulty. She has taught me to accept my femininity as God’s gift to me.

Daily I give her all my cares and actions and ask her to purify them and present them to her Son.

She instructs me to do whatever her Son says. She reminds me that the Lord is with me, and she leads me to be what he wants me to be.

MOTHER OF THE CHURCH

by Denis Lemieux

One of the titles by which we honor Our Lady is “Mother of the Church.” I love this image. The Church is God’s family, and the heart of a human family is the mother. And so it is in the family of the Church. The heart of the Church is profoundly Marian.

When I speak of the Church, I am focusing on the visible institution that has been charged with the mission to proclaim the Gospel and the coming of the Kingdom of God to all nations, the Church which is itself the sign and the beginning of that Kingdom here on earth.

What are the implications of Mary’s motherhood, of the Marian heart of the Church, for its life and mission? To find the answer, let us examine a few of the Scriptural quotes that reveal the heart of Our Lady.

Fiat. Let it be done to me according to your word (Lk 1: 38). Here we see Our Lady’s receptivity, her “responsivity.” God makes the initiative and Mary says, Let it be done to me. Notice that she speaks in the passive voice, grammatically speaking. The Church, first and foremost, must receive and respond to the gift of salvation that God has given us in Christ. And as individuals within the Church, that’s our first mission as well: to receive and respond and to say Fiat, let it be done to me.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux gave a beautiful image of this. She spoke of herself as a little ball that the Child Jesus could either play with or throw in a corner and ignore.

As a staff worker of Madonna House, for example, this means I am asked to say to God: You can throw me in a corner, forget about me, tell me to go wash dishes for 40 years. Whatever. I am here to do your will. I am in your hands; dispose of me as you please.

This attitude of surrender to God’s will needs to be at the center of our mission as Church and of any apostolic activity we engage in. We North Americans tend to be very activist, very program- based: “Let’s show initiative. Let’s get organized. Let’s get a whole bunch of programs in our parishes and in our religious communities. Let’s go out and evangelize and do stuff!”

And that’s good. We need to be active; we need to be out there doing things. But if we are doing so “on our own steam” rather than as a response to what God asks of us, then our work may be fruitless. For any fruit which comes from our apostolic activity as a Church flows out of an attitude, a basic stance, of fiat.

As for Mary, she treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart (Lk 2:19). Here we see Mary contemplating what God has done. This is an image of a prayerful, loving pondering of the deeds and revelations of God. This is what we call theology.

From day one until now, the Church has reflected on the mysteries of salvation and has drawn new insights from them. Theology particularly refers to the use of the intellect, the mind, to meditate on and explore the content of God’s revelation. But it also involves the emotions, creativity, art, poetry, and music—in short, every human faculty and ability that God has given us.

So when we speak of Mary, as a symbol of the Church, “pondering in her heart,” this is very important. For divorced from the heart, theology becomes an arid intellectual exercise. But the heart in this image doesn’t mean sentimentality or being mushy about God. It does not even mean the emotions.

Rather, the “heart” means the very center of the human person. Catherine Doherty spoke of living “in a garden enclosed where I walk and talk with God.” This garden enclosed, which each of us possesses, is the heart out of which the Church does its real and best theology.

The modern theologian von Balthasar says that theology is done on one’s knees. So the drawing forth of new insights and new understandings of the revelation of God flows out of our life of faith and of communion with God —in other words, from the heart.

His mother said to the servants, do whatever he tells you (Jn 2:5). This verse pertains to the Church in its role as prophet and teacher. In a sense, the entire moral teaching of the Church can be summed up in these words: do whatever he tells you.

Please underline the word “do.” Our relationship with God implies that we have to do things, and also that there are things that we must not do.

In this aspect of the Church’s mission as prophet and moral teacher, the Marian dimension, must be at the heart of the Church to protect its moral teaching from simply being a legalistic laying down of the law: “Don’t do this! Don’t do that! Don’t use contraception; don’t engage in fornication! This can be a very cold approach to morality.”

Rather, the Church says, Do whatever He tells you, whatever Christ tells you. Our whole moral theology and teaching flows out of a relationship with a Person who loves us and is guiding us to the fullness of life and truth. And it is the Marian dimension that preserves this sense of personal relationship.

Von Balthasar speaks of the Church having two dimensions: the Petrine and the Marian. The Petrine dimension is the visible church: institutions, structures, dioceses, parishes, and so forth. But the Marian dimension is the heart I’ve been speaking of, this heart that surrenders itself in a total fiat, this heart that treasures all that the Lord has done for it, and that says do whatever he tells you.

Both dimensions are necessary. Without the Petrine dimension of the Church, we’re left with an individualistic piety: just me and Jesus off in a corner somewhere having a nice relationship, or me and Jesus and my little group off in a corner somewhere. We have to be part of the visible Church, integrated fully into its exterior structures, for they are willed by God.

And without the Marian dimension, we’re left with formalism or legalism—the Church as a big institution that has no life to offer.

So when any group or individual loses sight of either the Petrine or the Marian dimension, they lose the fullness of what it is to be Church and are gravely hampered in their ability to fulfill the mission to which they are called—that of evangelization.

What happened to Mary because of her fiat, her treasuring, her doing whatever the Lord told her? What will happen to us as Church and as individuals the more we imitate her? What will happen to us as we draw nearer to Our Lady to ask her to form us in the Spirit?

Well, what happened in Mary wasn’t primarily because of anything she did. It was what God did in her: the Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us (Jn 1:14).

This can all be summed up with another quote of John’s: If you love me (FIAT!) and keep (TREASURE IN YOUR HEARTS) my Commandments (DO WHATEVER HE SAYS) the Father and I will come and make our home in you (Jn 14:23).

It is this presence, this communion with God, that we are called to be for the world and to offer the world.

NOT AN OBVIOUS RELATIONSHIP

by Paulette Curran

Each of us who have made our act of consecration to the Mother of God according to St. Louis de Montfort, of course, has his or her story. Mine is very simple.

I came to Madonna House at a time when the number of guests had reached a new peak —the summer of 1970. So, obviously, there were lots of us, and as the months went on, at every feast of Our Lady, I watched one after another of my fellow guests make their act of consecration.

As I watched, or whenever there was any mention of the consecration, I reiterated to myself that I most certainly would never do this. I wasn’t against it. It was just that, though I loved Jesus very much, I was not at all interested in his Mother.

But I was, after all, living in Madonna House, a house where she was very present and loved. And though I was trying to ignore her, she was not ignoring me.

She was quietly, almost imperceptibly, just letting me get to know her. In fact, it was so imperceptible, that in writing this, I can hardly remember any incidents.

I do remember—at the suggestion of my spiritual director—reluctantly beginning to pray before her icon. (And I didn’t like the idea of praying before an icon either!) I felt peace there and so continued.

I also prayed, just from time to time, at the statue of Our Lady of Combermere. Even I, who had not at the time, completely lost my `60’s cynicism, could not resist those lovingly outstretched arms.

Gradually I became glad to have her around. But I still didn’t have much of what people would call “devotion to Mary” when I finally made my act of consecration. What happened was that, as soon as I asked and was accepted to become an applicant of MH, I knew, in the depths of my heart, that I needed to entrust my vocation to Our Lady.

She took good care of it (after all, I’m still here), but our relationship was not an obvious one—not even to me. Though I said prayers to her, I didn’t think about her very much. She was, on some level, a quiet, comfortable companion and mother.

She took care of things for me, too. Over the years, there has been one thing after the other that it just has seemed natural to entrust to her—womanly things such as cooking and bread-baking, especially—but other things, too. And knowing that I belonged to her gave me a sense of protection and security.

I wasn’t able to go as far as Fr. Eddie Doherty in trust though. He used to say that when he made the act of consecration, he gave up worrying. He gave his worries to Our Lady, he would say, and let her do his worrying for him. I wish I would reach that point!

But, I must say, though worrying has not left me completely, it has definitely decreased—no small thing for a born worrier like me!

Then finally, just in the last couple of years, my love and trust in her have grown by leaps and bounds. And it has happened through this newspaper.

For, as editor of RESTORATION, I have entrusted the paper to her, not just once but over and over, and not just the paper in the abstract, but tiny little details of it. It’s hers already, of course, but it seems that when I acknowledge that it is hers and ask her for help, it opens the doors to unleash her power. Over and over, I have been awed by how she takes care of things.

As I look back, I am beginning to think that I have been closer to Mary than I realized. For though there have been periods when I have hardly thought about her, I cannot imagine my life without her.

My Dear Family

A SECRET OF SANCTITY

by Catherine Doherty

There lived on earth a man who was in love with Mary, the Mother of God. He was so in love that he could truly think of nothing else but his beloved. He was a priest, a Frenchman named Louis de Montfort.

There were two reasons why he was so in love with Mary. First, she is the only gate that leads to Christ, her Son. St. Louis knew that we have to pass through that marvelously wrought gate before we can find Christ, who is the only way to eternal life and glory in the bosom of God the Father.

The second reason he was in love with Mary was Mary herself. For under each of her thousand titles, she is of surpassing beauty; and she holds the eyes of those who see well and deeply into the mysteries of our holy faith.

To those who truly seek her out because they want to know and love her and her Son, she slowly reveals secrets as only a mother can. They are secrets of the way of love of her Son, and secret after secret of the way of loving him back. Finally, she opens to them her Immaculate Heart, her last, most precious secret, in which they learn the ultimate lessons of sanctity, the lessons of total surrender to Love, to God.

Sanctity is love, and a saint is a lover of God. All men and women were created to love and be saints, and his kingdom of love begins here and now. But how few even try to begin loving on this earth!

Mary, Christ’s mother, whose will is eternally united with his, desires with a great desire, to bring him souls. To do this, she uses St. Louis de Montfort to reveal her secrets to anyone of good will.

But note well, like many other secret treasure troves, this one is not easy to find and open. Many are the obstacles that we put in the way—worldliness, greed, and selfishness.

We must not give way to any of these. Let us arise and light the lamps of faith within our souls and begin in earnest to open the doors leading to the beautiful secret chambers of Mary’s heart. If we do, we will find happiness beyond expressing.

Begin now letting Mary take over your whole life.

The kingdom of Satan, the foe, is growing rapidly. Time is short. The devil delights in splitting persons who should be wholly Christ’s, so that, divided within themselves, they turn their faces away and get lost in the mazes of the world, the flesh, and the devil.

Let us consider, just for an instant, why so many among us have mental illness or nervous breakdowns. In some cases, it is because we are unable to bear the weight of our troubled, dark, insecure days and try to solve the unsolvable situation with the help of our own little intellects.

We fail woefully. We succumb to the ills of the world, and become split against ourselves. How can our minds and bodies remain whole, when we, in a frenzy of confusion, try to do the impossible —serve God and mammon at the same time?

Turn to Mary. Study the secret as revealed by St. Louis de Montfort. Become her slave of love. Ask her to take over your life. And lo, all things will come to rest within you. Your house will be put in order. For she is the best housekeeper of souls that ever lived. And you will know, through her, the way to Christ, and step by step, will walk it easily.

From Bogoroditza, pp. 47-49, available from MH Publications.

OUTFOXING GOD

by Fr. Eddie Doherty

On the feast of the Presentation, February 2, 1951, Catherine and I consecrated ourselves to Jesus through Mary, in the fashion of St. Louis de Montfort—giving, in the words of the consecration, “our bodies and souls, our goods, both interior and exterior, and even the value of all our good actions, past, present, and future.”

Speaking for myself alone, the gift that I gave was a shabby one, and secondhand at that, since once I had been a slave of the devil; and he had left some of the marks of his fury on me.

However, what I gave was all I had to give; and I gave it voluntarily—which is as much as even the holiest of the angels could do.

Man, ordinary man—he can stump the angels! He can even outfox God! He can give the Lord Almighty a troublesome, worn, stained, shoddy piece of goods—not at all guaranteed—and receive for it all the splendors of high heaven!

Eddie Doherty, My Hay Ain’t In, [Milwaukee, Bruce Publ. Co], 1952], p. 101.

Our Lady of Combermere

SHE IS ALWAYS THERE

by Paulette Curran

This morning on my way to work in the RESTORATION editorial office, I stopped at the statue of Our Lady of Combermere. I kissed her and put my day and the paper in her hands.

It is such a simple thing, something I have been doing ever since my first day working on this paper, and I have been amazed how, over and over, she has brought the articles needed, showed me what to do, and solved problems that had seemed insoluble.

It’s hard to realize that this statue, so much a part of our lives, is as official a shrine as the ones in Lourdes and Fatima. An unmarked dirt path leads to her, and her “basilica” is simply the tall pine and spruce trees surrounding her, the kind of trees that stretch for thousands of miles across Canada.

Depending on the season and weather, her veil, which is flying in the wind, is either wet with rain, softened with snow, or warm with sunlight. And the beautiful Madawaska River flows companionably by her as she runs, runs, runs, with arms stretched out to embrace us.

Though throngs of pilgrims do not come to her, she is rarely alone for too long. She is quite near our main house, and it’s only a short detour if you are going across the road to the office or women guests’ dorm or down the road to St. Mary’s. Or if you’re returning. Many of us stop by often —sometimes oh so briefly. We greet her, reach up to touch her hand, kiss her.

Often we are not on our way anywhere. We come just to see her. We come to share a joy, to ask her for something, to cry in her arms, or just to tell her about our day.

And we bring her little gifts. In the spring and summer, you often see flowers entwined in her fingers or in vases at her feet.

Visitors to Madonna House are brought to meet her, to hear her story, and to pray to her. They are given her picture and a copy of her prayer, and she embraces them in her mantle.

Local people come, too. For she is, in a special way, their Mother. Like us, they pour out their love and prayers to her and bring her flowers.

I can’t imagine Madonna House without Our Lady of Combermere. She is our patroness, of course, but that doesn’t begin to say everything she is in our family.

Catherine used to say that God gave Madonna House to his Mother, and that says it better. We are covered with her mantle. And all that happens here, all that God does here, is done through her.

But on a day-to-day level, she is simply our Mother. She is the heart of our family. Always we can run to her. Always she is there. Always she is loving us.

And this is true not only for us, for our visitors, and for our neighbors. Always she is running, running, running to embrace all of her children everywhere in the world.

Mother of God

A WOMAN’S IDEA

by Carol Gordon

One day, many years ago, when I was a guest beginning to consider whether or not Madonna House was my vocation, I received a letter from my mother. She hadn’t been pleased about my decision to join the Catholic Church, and her letters made it clear that she was even less thrilled about my staying at Madonna House.

But this letter was different. It was filled with her pain at the death of her closest friend, and her terrible loneliness oozed through every word.

It was suddenly clear to me that my mother’s disapproval of my lifestyle was primarily because she felt she had no one, and she felt I was turning my back on her. I sat on the steps of the guest dorm, reading and re-reading the letter, and wondering what it meant for my future.

I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Lord had led me to Madonna House. But I was an only child and, if this was to be my vocation, he would have to take care of my mother, especially now, when she was so alone. I found myself praying to Our Lady of Combermere: “O Mary, if you want me here, you have to do something for my mother.”

The more I thought about it, the more hopeless the situation seemed. Was there anyone who could “be there” for my mother? I knew I was really asking Our Lady of Combermere for nothing short of a miracle from her Son!

A few months later, my mother received a letter from a friend in England. (They corresponded every Christmas). Her friend enclosed a newspaper clipping announcing that a famous British actor had bought a farm in Sussex—the one my parents had owned and where they had lived for 14 years. She figured mother would be amused to know about it!

Mother knew lots of the farm’s history and so she wrote a note to the man telling him several interesting stories that she thought he might like to know. She certainly didn’t expect a reply.

Well, he wrote back, and she responded, and an incredible correspondence was born. He was fascinated by her letters, and he turned out to be quite a delightful writer himself. In no time at all they became close friends, sharing freely and copiously with one another.

She was surprised to discover that her charming “pen pal” was an actor equally well known in North America. When she was in the hospital that spring, she took along a photo of him and one of me. The nurses who came in, said: "Oh, you know him! But who is she?

Even today, when I think of it, the extraordinariness of this miracle amazes me. Only Our Lady of Combermere and her divine Son could have answered my prayer so lavishly!

Their incredible correspondence, so life-giving to both of them, continued until my mother’s death. In my wildest imagination I would never have dreamed that my mother’s loneliness would be alleviated by a famous handsome movie star! I can’t help thinking that this was a Woman’s idea! Thank you, Mary!

The Pope’s Corner

PRAYING FOR PEACE

by Pope John Paul II

In part 3, we conclude our excerpts from the Holy Father’s message for the World Day of Peace, January 1, 2002.

———-

Prayer for peace is not an afterthought to the work of peace. It is of the very essence of building the peace of order, justice, and freedom.

To pray for peace is to open the human heart to the inroads of God’s power to renew all things. With the life-giving force of his grace, God can create openings for peace where only obstacles and closures are apparent. He can strengthen and enlarge the solidarity of the human family in spite of our endless history of division and conflict.

To pray for peace is to pray for justice, for a right-ordering of relationships within and among nations and peoples. It is to pray for freedom, especially for the religious freedom that is a basic human and civil right of every individual.

To pray for peace is to seek God’s forgiveness and to implore the courage to forgive those who have trespassed against us.

For all these reasons, I have invited representatives of the world’s religions to come to Assisi, the town of St. Francis, on January 24, 2002 to pray for peace.

In doing so, we will show that genuine religious belief is an inexhaustible wellspring of mutual respect and harmony among peoples. Indeed it is the chief antidote to violence and conflict. At this time of great distress, the human family needs to be reminded of our unfailing reasons for hope.

It is precisely this hope that we intend to proclaim in Assisi -in the beautiful phrase attributed to St. Francis himself— “to make each of us a channel of his peace.”

No peace without justice, no justice without forgiveness: this is what in this message I wish to say to believers and unbelievers alike, to all men and women of good will who are concerned for the good of the human family and for its future.

No peace without justice, no justice without forgiveness: this is what I wish to say to those responsible for the future of the human community, entreating them to be guided in their weighty and difficult decisions by the light of man’s true good, always with a view to the common good.

No peace without justice, no justice without forgiveness: I shall not tire of repeating this warning to those who, for one reason or another, nourish feelings of hatred, a desire for revenge, or the will to destroy.

On this World Day of Peace, may a more intense prayer rise from the hearts of all believers for the victims of terrorism, for their families so tragically stricken, for all the peoples who continue to be hurt and convulsed by terrorism and war.

May the light of our prayer extend even to those who gravely offend God and man by these pitiless acts, that they may look into their hearts, see the evil of what they do, abandon all violent intentions, and seek forgiveness.

In these troubled times, may the whole human family find true and lasting peace, born of the marriage of justice and mercy!

THE FACE OF MARY

by Scott Eagan

It is said that, over time, if they are growing in love for one another, a husband and wife come to resemble each other. And so it is with us in our life with Christ and Mary.

Some time ago, in imitation of a farmer brother, I began a morning ritual. I light a candle before a picture of Our Lady of Combermere. Each morning she waits for me to honor her and her Son by bringing that light into the darkness and praying a Hail Mary.

Yes, there she is, looking out at me, almost through me, with an expression of—I hesitate to say it—ecstasy.

And as I gaze into this face each morning and numerous times throughout the day, I see an invitation to love. For I see the face of a child looking at its Father. I see the face of a Mother lit with the light of her Son’s resurrection. I see the face of a lover filled with love for her Beloved.

I see the face of strength that has encountered and transformed all brokenness. I see the face of joy that has overcome all sadness. And I see the face of hope that has kissed the cold corpse of death with utter faith in the miracle of the third day. I see a face fixed on God.

But what of this expression of ecstasy? It is not the ecstasy of long, idle hours seemingly spent “lost in the heavens.” It is the ecstasy of a mother, who has prepared the evening meal for her family. It is the ecstasy of a farmer who has cleaned the stable and brushed the horses. It is the ecstasy of an MH staff worker who has swept the floor or shovelled the snow from every path in sight. It is the ecstasy of a priest hearing confessions or elevating the chalice at Mass.

It is a quiet ecstasy—the ecstasy God gives from time to time in the midst of a life of loving service. It is the ecstasy of Nazareth.

As I stand before that likeness of Mary, the “maid who wed infinity,” as Fr. Eddie has called her, I am beginning to see more. I have begun to see not only her face, but the faces of my brothers and sisters in Christ as well. Gradually I am seeing their faces becoming one with hers.

The first one I saw was the face of a holy elderly woman of our community. I thought to myself, “Well, that’s reasonable; she has some similarity to Our Lady.” Then, one day I saw the face of one of the men staff. Sometime later I saw the face of a friend from many years ago, a friend I still treasure. Then, one by one, as time went on, I saw the faces of others as well.

More recently I have come to expect that, as time goes on, I will see the faces of more and more people contained in this one motherly face. And I hope, too, with the eyes of faith, to see an image so very close to me, the image of my own face, reflected in her countenance.

For what I have begun to see, with growing gospel eyes, in the face of Our Lady and in the face of those whose lives are given to her, is the face of incarnate love.

Our Lady of Combermere

AT MASS WITH MARY

by Fr. Emile-Marie Brière

Have you ever thought of uniting with Mary as you enter the church or chapel to go to Mass? How about saying something like this to her?

“Mother Mary, I am going to join your Son in his perfect adoration of the Father, his perfect thanksgiving, his perfect reconciliation with the whole human race, his perfect intercession for all of creation. Please give me the faith to truly believe in this tremendous reality in which I am privileged to participate.”

At the Liturgy of the Word, the Word of God is given to us to feed our minds, to quiet our emotions, and to heal our psyches and our bodies. But we can be so terribly distracted that we sometimes hear nary a sentence. Why not pray to Our Lady again and ask her to obtain for you an attentive ear, a sober mind, a quiet imagination, and a longing heart.

With the Liturgy of the Eucharist comes the time for us to recollect ourselves as best we can and to enter with awe and reverence into Jesus’ adoration, thanksgiving, intercession and supreme sacrifice to the Father.

Here again, we can pray to Mary. “O Mary, give me the faith to believe in the extraordinary, infinite, most loving event that is taking place at this moment. Help me to adore, to praise, to intercede, to bow low in my heart before your infinite love and mercy.”

At Communion time we say, “Lord I’m not worthy that you should enter into my house, but say the word and I shall be healed.” At this time we can invite Mary into our hearts and ask Jesus to come to us through her, thus making us immensely worthy.

Look down upon yourself and say, “Lord, when you look at me, do not look at my sins. Let your eyes see nothing but the virtues and the merits of Mary.”

Yes, pray to Jesus in union with Mary. Ask for the coming of His Kingdom on earth through his mother. Beg for divine wisdom, for divine love, for the forgiveness of your sins, or for some particular grace you need, but always through Mary.