Sexagesima Sunday
Apparition of Our Lady at Lourdes
J.M.J.
MIRACLES OF LOURDES
(Taken from http://www.olrl.org/stories/lourdes.shtml)
A four page article available for 8 cents ea.
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.
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.
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 than 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. 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 sat 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. M. 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 years.
THE STORY OF JOHN TRAYNOR
In some respects the story of John Traynor is similar to that of Gabriel
Gargam. Yet in many ways it is different. After their cures, the two men
were brancardiers at Lourdes at the same time and may have discussed their
cases with each other.
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 bade
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."
As is usual in such cures, John Traynor retained souvenirs of his former
afflictions. The right hand did not hang quite normally, and the right
forearm was a little less thick than the left. A slight depression was the
only trace that was left of the hole in the skull.
If John Traynor and Gabriel Gargam ever discussed their cases and compared
notes while both were serving as brancardiers, they must have been amused by
one point. Gargam succeeded in having his pension from the railway company
discontinued. The British War Pension Ministry, however, insisted upon
paying Traynor's pension till the end of his life. They had examined him
thoroughly and found him incurable. They did not care what the Lourdes
Medical Bureau said or what any of the doctors who examined Traynor after
his return from Lourdes reported. It did not matter that he was engaged in
the most strenuous kind of work. They had pronounced him incurable, and
incurable he was. This decision was never revoked.
The gift of miracles has never ceased to show its presence in the Catholic
Church. "If you would not believe Me" said Our Lord to the Jews, "believe
the works I do."
"The Catholic Faith alone produces miracles, which are never seen among
heretics. Plants of this sort cannot grow in a soil cursed by God; they can
take root only in that Church where the True Faith is professed . . . God
cannot sanction the performance of a miracle except in favor of the true
religion; were He to permit it in support of error, He would deceive us."
St. Alphonsus Marie de Liguori, Bishop & Doctor of the Church
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Sincerely in Christ,
Our Lady of the Rosary Library
"Pray and work for souls"
http://olrl.org
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