Almost three years ago now, I made the decision to join the Orthodox Church. Having been a Protestant for the previous eight years, that step of faith was not without its difficulties. One of them was precisely the role given to Mary in Orthodox theology and religious life. A role that has little to envy the one she has in the Catholic Church. It was precisely then that we discovered that my mother had liver cancer that was entering its terminal phase. I made the decision not to tell her the seriousness of her condition unless she asked me directly. I had already shared with her my intention to leave Protestantism and become Orthodox, which gave her a joy she could hardly conceal, though it was tempered by the fact that I was not returning to the Catholic Church. Her notion of the Orthodox Church was the same one many Catholics and Protestants have: it is like the Catholic Church but without a Pope.
The fact is that she had been a regular pilgrim to the shrine of Lourdes since my father’s death 17 years earlier. Her intention was to go that very year with the group from Guadalajara, but at the last minute she could not attend because she had to undergo some medical tests. So she said she would go in September with the people from Madrid. I knew that she would most likely not live to see her wish fulfilled. Then, without giving it much thought, it occurred to me to offer to drive her to Lourdes on a long-weekend trip. Her eyes lit up and she accepted. Before going on, I should clarify one thing. Ever since I became an Evangelical, I had had real arguments with my mother over many Catholic doctrines, and very especially those related to the Virgin Mary. On more than one occasion I told her that I believed the apparitions at Lourdes were authentic but satanic, which nearly led my mother to cut off all contact with me. So you can imagine what it meant to her that I offered to drive her to Lourdes. However, once I reflected on what I had offered, no small fear came over me. I said to myself: “Luis, aren’t you going too fast?” “Don’t you think you ought to mature a bit as an Orthodox Catholic before embarking on the adventure of visiting a Marian shrine, even if it is with the intention of pleasing your dying mother?”
Lourdes was going to be the acid test of my conversion to Orthodox Catholicism, even though, curiously, the Orthodox Church does not accept the Immaculate Conception of Mary as a dogma—although they do call her Immaculate. Lourdes being the shrine of the Immaculate Conception, my situation was something of an irony of fate. Now, I knew that if I arrived at Lourdes and encountered a Marian cult that was unacceptable to me, I could not go on being an Orthodox Catholic. One can be Orthodox and not an ultra-Marian devotee of the “rociero” sort. One can be Roman Catholic and not an ultra-Marian “rociero.” But one cannot be either Orthodox or Catholic without venerating and honoring the Theotokos.
Throughout the whole drive to France I kept praying to God that, whichever direction it might take, He would show me the path to follow during my stay in Lourdes and, above all, afterwards. We left Madrid very early and, after eating at the French border, we headed for Lourdes. We arrived in the early afternoon, and our first concern was to find a place to stay—not because there were no hotels, but because there were so many of them that we did not quite know which would be the most suitable for us. After all, my mother got around on crutches or in a wheelchair, so the hotel had to be equipped for the disabled. Once the three of us had settled in—my godmother had come along with us—we decided to take a stroll through the shopping area of the town. It reminded me of the streets full of souvenir shops typical of the coastal towns of the Spanish Levante where I had spent my childhood summers. The difference is that in Lourdes all the little gifts and souvenirs revolved around the Marian theme. Once we had dinner, at a much earlier hour than is usual in Spain, we retired to rest.
The next morning, we made our way to the shrine. One of the most incredible things was seeing how many nationalities were present there. French, Spaniards, Mexicans, Argentinians, Poles, Italians, Chileans, Colombians, Irish, Germans, Americans, etc., etc…. it looked like the UN. Now, as soon as you go down the ramp leading to the main esplanade, you enter another world. The shops, the gifts, the commerce—all of that stays outside. Inside are the enormous basilica and, above all, the Grotto. I can assure you that I felt genuine fear about approaching the Grotto. I was afraid of encountering something that would make me run out of there, or stay out of respect for my mother but with my heart and soul set elsewhere. Instead, I found a peace such as I have rarely experienced in my whole life. I was struck by the silence and the sacredness of that place. I had the clear and distinct sensation that I was standing in a holy place. It is hard to put into words all that I felt and lived in those moments. My rational mind, still full of the arguments I had used months before to attack the veneration of Mary, then began to look for justifications of the sort: “don’t trust your feelings,” “this may be fleeting,” “you know how deceitful the heart is, so don’t rely on what it is telling you now,” etc., etc. But no, there was no way to bury what had risen again in me upon entering that holy place.
The rest of the day was marked by my silence before everything my soul was rediscovering. And also by the realization of the immense work the volunteers do in helping the sick. It was curious. The place was full of sick people, many of them invalids, yet what one breathed there was hope and life, not false religiosity and death. When we attended the torchlight procession in the evening, I was struck by its beauty, its symbolism, its Christian spirit reflected in the faces of all those around us. The night celebration was unforgettable as well.
When I lay down to sleep that night, I was aware that there in the Grotto whatever little or much remained of the Protestant in me had died. That Immaculate Conception, whose veneration I had fought against, had interceded with God so that He would make me understand the true Christian essence of the veneration of the Mother of the Savior, cause of our salvation.
The following day we attended the procession of the Blessed Sacrament. Together with my aunt I visited the stations of the Way of the Cross, of unquestionable artistic beauty. But once again it was at the Grotto that I grasped why that place has drawn so many millions of visitors from every part of the world. That afternoon my mother bathed in the pools of the spring. I knew she would not be cured of her terminal illness—not so much because the Lord, answering Mary’s intercession, could not do it, but because I was aware that He wanted to take my mother to His side soon.
On Sunday morning we set out for home. My mother did not improve from her illness, but, inexplicably to the doctors, she spent her last days of life without a single pain, without needing to be sedated. For those of us who had grown used to seeing her suffer excruciating pain in recent years because of damage to the sciatic nerve caused by a hip operation (she had to be admitted to the pain unit of the Gómez Ulla hospital), seeing her die without suffering was a blessing from heaven. A few weeks after my mother died, my wife Lidia and I returned to the Catholic Church.
The Luis Fernando who arrived at Lourdes was different from the one who left. Many will probably judge this testimony from very different perspectives. I know well that only God knows what that change consisted of and how it affected my way of living the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints. I made a trip to please my mother in the flesh, and Christ rewarded me with the mother He gave to His beloved disciple on the cross. It is without doubt one of the greatest gifts the Lord can offer to those who love Him and strive to keep His commandments.
Pax vobiscum Luis Fernando Pérez
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Reactions to this account, and a reply.
Maripaz (Evangelical):
Very moving, Luis, like anything one feels, all the more so when it involves the last memories of your mother; but Rome, precisely what it has done is manipulate those memories and give you a substitute for your mother, a fictitious substitute. Neither Mary is your mother, nor is Rome, Luis; your mother died, and that is a reality you have to face; no one will EVER be able to replace her. And those who are manipulating your feelings, making you believe what is not so, are doing you no good at all.
You have fallen prey to the very thing I have seen you criticize, namely giving extreme importance to emotions (I have seen you criticize that in Pentecostals).
And by the way, what becomes of the proofs we have given you that there is a BIG BUSINESS set up at Lourdes?
Think a little: it is legitimate for you to remember your mother and to want to feel her love, but that love can be given to you by no one but Christ; the Bible does not say that Mary is love (though she was for her Son), the Bible says: GOD IS LOVE. Do not let your feelings be manipulated, nor sublimate your mother’s love into any loves other than that of the One who gave you spiritual life: JESUS CHRIST
Your mother gave you life; Christ died to give you eternal life, and He shares His glory with no one.
Reply:
You are wrong, Maripaz, from start to finish.
To begin with, Rome has not manipulated my memories. What I have recounted is based on my own personal experience. No Roman Catholic suggested anything to me immediately before Lourdes, nor at Lourdes, nor in the months after Lourdes. What happened there was a personal matter between God and me. What is more, it was so intimate that I did not even include it in the testimony of my return to the Catholic Church. There are things one keeps to oneself for various reasons, and I know very well what moved me not to air publicly what happened to me on that trip. So, no manipulation at all.
You are wrong about more things, Maripaz. No one has replaced my mother Amelia. Not Rome, not Mary, not anyone. When Christ gave Mary to John as his Mother, He did not do it so that she would replace John’s mother. When He helped me recognize Mary as Mother of the Church and my mother, He did not do it so that she would replace my mother. Every person is irreplaceable.
Nor do I think I give extreme importance to feelings. Indeed, I was well aware that I should not trust them too much. And if I have not returned to Lourdes to this day, it is precisely because I wanted to let a prudent amount of time pass before going back to that place which is so special to me. Because, of course, none of us is a wall of unfeeling stone before certain realities we have to live through. It is one thing not to set our feelings up as the judge of our actions and our future conduct, and quite another to ignore the fact that we are flesh and blood, and have a heart that feels, weeps, loves, and lives.
As for the big business, what do you want me to say? It is all outside the shrine. No one is forced to buy anything. You can go there and not spend a single euro in those souvenir shops. And, on the other hand, I think it is normal for the inhabitants of that French town to live off the income from tourism and the sale of religious souvenirs. It is like when you go to an Evangelical congress of some importance. There will always be people selling you books, bumper stickers for your car, T-shirts, music CDs, pens, videos, Bibles, magazines, etc., etc. The problem would lie in turning that into the alma mater of the spiritual reality behind those events. The problem would lie in saying, “if you do not buy such and such a thing, you cannot enter the shrine or take part in the congress.” In the end, at Lourdes one chooses whether to take part in that dynamic of business around the shrine or, on the contrary, chooses to go there without feeling obliged to buy so much as a little medal.
And as for God being love, that is evident. So much so that this love impels us to love one another. I have not the slightest doubt that the fact that God loves me and I love Him is not at odds with the fact that I love my brothers and sisters, Mary, and all the saints who have influenced, in one way or another, my two long years back in Catholicism. I do not rob Christ of His glory to give it to His Mother. Rather, I give glory to God for the wonderful things He has done in Mary. And certainly God has given glory, honor, and peace (Rom 2:6) to the woman who declared herself the handmaid of the Lord.
Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.
Comments from the Evangelical pastor Tobi, and replies:
Tobi:
In the first place, you show not the slightest restraint in using maternal sentimentality to justify ideas you have fought against on other occasions.
Luis:
I was wondering what you were basing that on, but you yourself take care to make it clear:
Tobi:
Something you yourself affirm in these words:
“Then, without giving it much thought, it occurred to me to offer to drive her to Lourdes on a long-weekend trip. Her eyes lit up and she accepted. Before going on, I should clarify one thing. Ever since I became an Evangelical, I had had real arguments with my mother over many Catholic doctrines, and very especially those related to the Virgin Mary.”
Luis:
And I ask myself: is telling the truth a bad thing? Is it bad to say that I offered to take my mother to Lourdes? Is it bad to say that I had previously argued with her about Mary? Am I somehow to blame that things happened the way they did? Is it sentimentality to explain exactly everything that happened? What is the matter with you, Tobi? Do you delight in testimonies like that of Manuel Vilas (anti-Lourdes) and have a hard time with mine? Does it bother you that I publicly recount what, as a good son, I wanted to do? Does it bother you that the Lord used that to show me something very important? Am I perhaps asking anyone to go there so that something similar may happen to them? Have I even justified the dogma of the Immaculate Conception on the basis of my personal experience at the shrine of the Immaculate Conception?
Tobi:
But the fact is that after becoming a Catholic you have also fought against them, saying that the I.C. is not responsible for the excesses of some Catholics in this regard.
Luis:
What exactly do you claim I have fought against by saying that?
Tobi:
You say you converted to being an “Evangelical,” and I believe it; only, you did not convert to Christ.
Luis:
I converted to Christ as a child. I tell the story here: http://www.angelfire.com/hi/luisperez/mio.html
When I became an Evangelical I rediscovered Christ, from whom I had drifted away for reasons that are beside the point.
Tobi:
You have always sought to belong to an Institution that would shelter your insecurities.
Luis:
After we left Amistad Cristiana, we spent more than two years without belonging to any church. We visited several, but with no intention of becoming part of any of them. I only began to seek the Church of Christ when I realized that Protestantism was the negation of the Church of Christ. Until then I did not believe there was any absolute need to belong to a congregation in order to be a Christian. In other words, at that time I held ideas on the matter very similar to those Maripaz may hold now. I was very comfortable in my armchair as an Evangelical apologist attacking Catholic doctrines. From a human and rational point of view, the logical thing would have been for me to remain in that situation for years and years.
My insecurities, on the contrary, began then. Because it is only natural that when you leave behind everything you have lived through in recent years, doubts appear. My approach to the Orthodox Church was not an attempt to put an end to those insecurities. On the contrary, I knew that once inside I was going to suffer even more doubts, because I was entering a world almost unknown to me. Had it not been for the fact that I immediately began to discover the wonderful treasure of Orthodoxy, I would surely have retraced my steps. But no, God did not want me to retrace my steps—quite the opposite. He wanted me to move forward. To discover the blessings hidden in the writings of the Philokalia. To discover heaven on earth through the Orthodox liturgy. To discover the soul and spirit of a Christian people through the Russian Pilgrim. And afterwards to discover the treasures of the Latin Church.
The insecurities finally gave way to an almost childlike curiosity that made me long to know what was waiting for me around the corner, what other marvel of the Church’s treasure I was going to discover. I had already come to know the miseries of the Church’s members. I had already come to know the weeds, and I had certainly made it my business to show them to Catholics so that they would be aware of their existence. But then I discovered God’s wheat in the midst of His Holy Church.
What I had previously ignored and attacked was now shown to me in all its splendor. The insecurity provoked by taking a step of faith into the unknown ended almost completely when I truly realized where I had arrived. Since then, of course, I have had my ups and downs—who doesn’t?—but I am at peace and confident, because I know I am in the house of God, in His blessed Church.
Tobi:
But in this piece you tell us that you became a worshiper of the Image of Lourdes.
Luis:
Well, there you have it: I did not even kneel before the image of the Virgin. It was enough for me to thank Christ in my heart for helping me discover His Mother, and for giving her to me as my Mother. There in the Grotto there is much more than a mere image, however beautiful it may be. There is the peace of God embodied in her who confessed herself to be the Handmaid of the Lord.
Tobi:
Besides, what enraptured you was the well-staged “show” that is put on there. Why?
Luis:
No, my friend, no. The show is outside. Or, if anything, it is in the torchlight procession or the procession of the Blessed Sacrament. I was not impressed by the shops of Lourdes or its hotels. I was impressed by the peace that began to flood my soul when I went down that ramp leading to the esplanade and, above all, the peace that completely overwhelmed me when I reached the Grotto. Can I rationally explain why I felt that peace? No, I cannot. And even if I could, I probably would not.
Tobi:
Well, because your insecurity needs it, and that insecurity is nothing more nor less than a total lack of faith. Beliefs, yes, you have them; but faith, the gift of God, no.
Luis:
That is something you should discuss with God, not with me. Would it be worth anything for me to say that I do have faith because the grace of God has granted it to me? Which is worth more—your opinion that I have no faith, or my confession that I do? He well knows whether He has given me faith, how much He has given me, how much He has withheld, and how little or how much I have managed to use that faith to bear good fruit. Because, after all, what does faith profit me if I have no works? Can faith save me?
Tobi:
Never have you had faith in the promises of God in Jesus Christ, and for that reason you have to take shelter in the promises of a Magisterium you can see and touch, and this Magisterium tells you that you must trust in a Mother Goddess, since it is one of humanity’s most ancient cults. And even that mother goddess is such only insofar as she is endorsed by the Institution you truly worship.
Luis:
To begin with, the Magisterium is not there to give promises but, if anything, to explain the ones God gave us. Furthermore, I approach the Magisterium with the intention of knowing what the voice of the Church is on doctrinal matters of faith and morals. It is as simple as this: if I acknowledge that there is a Church of Christ and that she is the Catholic Church, then I must submit to her rulings, because it will not be I who judge her doctrines but she who judges mine. On the other hand, that Magisterium does not tell me to trust in a Mother Goddess. If anything, it tells me that I can trust that woman whom God trusted so much that He became incarnate in her womb. But what is more, it is no longer a question of the Magisterium telling me who Mary is. It is that the Son of Mary has revealed to me who that woman is, named by the angel the Kecharitomene. And if I am to trust God, shall I then distrust what He teaches me about her who is blessed among all women?
Tobi:
But, I repeat, it is hardly ethical to appeal to sentimentality in order to sustain and sell something that may serve you in what you are trying to obtain from those who do not take part in these forums.
Luis:
I do not know whether telling my testimony is ethical or not. What I do know is that I have told it just as it happened. Whether it serves or fails to serve is something that will depend on the attitude with which each person reads that testimony.
Salve Regina, mater misericordiae; vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.
Author: Luis Fernando Pérez
