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Our Lady of La Salette and Saint Joseph Catholic Church
Parish Priest: Canon Michael Cooley
14 Melior
Street, London SE1 3QP
020 7407 1948
e-mail: lasalette.melior@gmail.com
The Basilica of Our Lady of La Salette, French Alps
LA SALETTE'S REFLECTION
The Magic
Mountain
(With apologies to Thomas Mann)
Located in the
French Alps south-east of Grenoble on the slopes of Mount Gargas
(2,207m) is the Basilica de Notre Dame de La Salette. It is 557m from the top
of that mountain, so when I claim to have climbed Mount Gargas
(and I do), I have really climbed those 557 metres, but it feels like a lot
more. But it’s not the distance climbed (or more truthfully walked) that
matters, it’s the quality of the view from the top. The spectacular drop on
one side, the sweep of the local Alps and the peaks of more distant mountains
and the vivid green of the lake way down below Corps are part of the
breathtaking splendour of the experience; but there is another more essential
aspect. Down below, from where we have climbed, are the Shrine, the small
cemetery and the Basilica.
And it is remarkable
that the Basilica and the Shrine are there at all. Just consider the immense
effort that went into quarrying the stone from which the Basilica is built;
it was all quarried locally. Think about the enormously hard work of building
a large church (and hotel) at that altitude. The air gets pretty thin at Annecy and that is only at an altitude of 957m. And how
many of the workers first had to climb up from Corps or Les Ablandins or the village of La Salette before beginning
their day’s labour?
What love went into
the design and the erection of the church, and what love pours from it daily
as the pilgrims process on their winding route to the Shrine - at the place
where Maximin and Melanie saw the “Beautiful Lady” - that is the term used by
the priests of La Salette, who have devoted their lives to the mission of La
Salette.
I have been three
times to the mountain - one person at St. Peter’s, Dagenham, has been 16
times. I know that I will be going back, drawn - lured - by its unique
atmosphere - a combination of peace, joy and love.
My peace I give unto you.
It’s a peace that the world cannot give.
It’s a peace that the world cannot
understand;
peace to know, peace to live.
My peace I give unto you.
And that best describes La Salette for me. Thank you,
“Beautiful Lady”.
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It was a privilege for me to climb the slopes of Mount Gargas on the second early morning when our parish group
were staying at La Salette in July 2001 as it was the same spot at the foot
of this mountain that Maximin and Melanie saw the beautiful Lady on September
19, 1846.
Once on the top of
Mount Gargas I could see a Holy Cross and a map
which shows the direction and height of various peaks of the French Alps. At
6:30am as the sun started to rise over the mountain from the east, the
panoramic view of the Alps was just breathtaking. As the Basilica and Our
Lady’s Shrine are surrounded by the high mountain peaks, they were still
shrouded by the morning mist. Yet when half way down the mountain I could see
red candle light at the Shrine in front of the Basilica and some of the
faithful saying their morning prayers there.
The next night there
was a concert in the Basilica, but unfortunately I had to leave early as I
had another appointment with Mount Chamoux early
next morning. On reflection, I find that when I was up the mountain with its
stillness and its tranquillity, it had helped me to pray and to marvel at
God’s creation.
I have travelled to
many places, but La Salette will always remain in my heart as my favourite
Holy place of pilgrimage. My journey to the mountain could last a lifetime.
I was very sad to
bid farewell to La Salette after only three days, but as we had three
glorious sunny days there, I should not moan about it.
As a final thought,
although the message from La Salette is 155 years old, I believe that it is
still applicable for the present day:"Find
a place for God in your life, otherwise things will
get out of hand."
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I suppose God is to be found in various places, but for me He
is in the high mountains, somewhere in the stillness and majesty of the
peaks, especially at La Salette.
The magnificence of those
mountains embracing La Salette captivates my soul, my heart, my very being. A
gentle nature stroll with Brenda around the lower slopes brings butterflies
flirting with us as they weave in and out of the exquisite Alpine flowers. On
a pre-dawn ascent of Gargas with Trung, I watch the
sun wake up, pink and beautiful, stretching its limbs behind the distant
rugged crests. And a memorable afternoon walk along the girdle with Brenda
offers us lush green valleys far below and snowy mountain-tops high above,
the rarefied air bearing the faint tinkle of sheep bells up on our left, and
the prayerful melody of hymns from the Sanctuaire
down to our right.
I am lucky enough to
be able to speak all my languages at La Salette. To my Melior Street chums
it’s English, to a group of elderly pilgrims it’s German, to the volunteer
girls at the Sanctuaire it’s Polish, and to
everyone else it’s French. Just when I have given up all hopes of my speaking
Flemish, a man walking the mountain paths with his young son stops and asks
directions. Yes, he is Flemish!
Clearly, languages
break down barriers, dispel prejudiced notions, allow for an exchange of
ideas, generate smiles, and help forge friendships. But so does the love of
God and one’s neighbour, no matter which language you speak. Peace,
tranquillity, caring, sharing - all these flourish up here at La Salette.
The prophet Micah
(6:8) reminds us to “walk humbly with our God”, but which one is God? Is He
in those people, French, English, Polish? Perhaps He
is in the teasing butterflies, the gentle Alpine flowers, or the majestic,
soaring birds? Is He hiding in between the rocks as one of those tiny
lizards? Or in the cicadas (they’re everywhere)? Could it have been God we
saw wake up behind the crests?
Yes, He is in all of
those, and in my hearts too - in the hearts of all
of us at La Salette. It’s that kind of place. He’s that kind of God.
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After a two-day journey across France by coach we finally arrived
at La Salette. It was late afternoon. It had been a fairly comfortable
journey but we were glad to arrive. A room number was allocated and as we
made our way along a wide walkway, it was a first chance to see the place we
had been hearing about. La Salette had the feel of a university campus. We
found our way to our room, which was comfortable, not quite as luxurious as
the hotel room we had the night earlier, but through the window was a
beautiful view of the French Alps that any hotel would have charged premium
rate for. The last part of the journey to La Salette had revealed how
beautiful and dramatic the scenery was in this part of France. The mountain
roads were narrow and winding with views that went on for miles into deep
valleys. Dinner was at 7:00pm in a large dining room. The announcements were
in French but it became evident from the friendly smiles and clapping that we
were being warmly welcomed to La Salette by the other pilgrims.
That evening there
was to be a service in the Basilica and a chance to take part in the
flambeaux (torchlight procession) that followed most evenings at La Salette.
The shrine is in front of the Basilica and it is set amidst several statues
depicting the story of Our Lady of La Salette and the children Maximin and Melanie.
The procession started inside the Basilica.
Some people sat
silently in prayer round the shrine whilst the procession led round a winding
pathway and back towards the statue of Our Lady of La Salette that faced the
Basilica. It was by then quite dark and a breeze blew out my candle. Someone
walking next to me helped re-light it. We were there with a common purpose to
honour Our Lady of La Salette.
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As usual, the first view of the Shrine of La Salette was very
exciting, followed by the usual rush to get settled in - find the nearest
shower and loo - and get down to supper. But the welcome at that supper was
quite different from our experience on previous visits.
We were asked immediately
to make an English contribution to the evening service and procession. We
anticipated singing as a group from the back of the Basilica, but no, we were
called up onto the altar, thrust before the microphone, and asked to lead the
singing of a song to Our Lady. And this set a pattern for the four nights at
La Salette, the various national groups were always specifically included:
Belgians, Poles, British, Italian, German, and the French, of course, but it
was celebration not only of the story and the effects of the Apparition, but
of the universality of God’s Church. There were no metaphorical towels on the
beach, reserving space this time. We were part of the bigger picture.
Perhaps the
difference this time came from our willingness to join the agenda set by La
Salette, and not set our own. We opened ourselves up to the atmosphere of La
Salette and became a part of the international community there, and in our
contribution to the established pattern of worship at that place we began to
communicate more effectively with our fellow-pilgrims.
And isn’t that part
of the purpose of the “Vision” of La Salette? Better communication, through
prayer? Understanding that in loving and respecting one another we show our
love for our Father in heaven. That was part of what 'The Beautiful Lady’ was
asking for at La Salette - through prayer to understand that there is a lot
more to life than struggling for the material things, not that these are
unimportant, but our relationship to God is paramount, and we can manifest
that love by our care and respect for each other.
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We crawled round yet another hairpin and continued the slow
climb up the mountain and turned another corner, and there it was - the Basilica
and Sanctuary of Our Lady of La Salette. Father Luke shot down to the front
of the coach and led us in a few short prayers of thanksgiving for our safe
arrival.
Disembarking and
sorting out rooms went smoothly and as there was a bit of time before our
evening meal we went to the shrine - the place where Our Lady had actually
appeared to the young children, Melanie and Maximin, and I thought about our
ponderous, motorised progress up the tarmac roads of the mountain, and how
the children had, over a hundred years ago, to follow the cattle up steeper,
craggier routes to find adequate pastures for their charges.
And I also thought
about my own progress to La Salette, which had begun several years earlier,
wandering through the streets of Bermondsey and discovering this beautiful
little church in Melior Street. At that time I was unaware of the apparition
of the Mother of God at La Salette. But it was soon apparent that God was at
work in Bermondsey. The welcome to strangers was warm - the care of the discarded,
the alcoholic, the rootless (as I soon learned) was
tender. And as I mulled over these thoughts, I also remembered Father Simon
McDaniel, he who started this mission to help the unwanted, the untutored,
the unloved migrants and I began to understand a little of his passion to
deliver God’s message (in Bermondsey), as Our Lady had asked the young
children to do.
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