Day 9 in Medjugorje: Conversation with Father David; Best Bourek Ever; The Miracle of the Sun.

This is part of an ongoing story; if you are just joining the journey, you may want to start at the beginning. 


Day 9 – Medjugorje

I didn’t sleep well last night.  I’m still feeling frustrated.  I wake up before dawn and walk out into the country for some sunrise shots. 

Three adorable dogs discover me on the road and proceed to escort me through the countryside.  On our way, they stir up as much trouble as they possibly can, barking at all the other dogs tied up in the neighborhood – which of course makes the other dogs bark and soon there’s a symphony happening. I’m sure the humans trying to sleep are just thrilled. I wonder if my pals are bragging about being free and not tied-up. They make me laugh!  They are angels in furry form, thanks, guys. 

When I return back to our room, my mother and I are alone and we have a great talk about Catholicism, zealotry, etc.  Her perspective is that some people are literally incapable of empathy.  They can’t imagine, let alone recognize, that other humans are different and benefit from different ways and paths.  She said that being able to empathize, allowing others the freedom to follow their own way, is a true gift.  Our conversation calms me some.  She suggests that I speak with our resident priest, Father David, to get his perspective. I’m not certain that it will help, but I am curious, and it feels right.

After breakfast, I pull Father David aside for a chat.  He takes me into a little store room on the side of the dining hall where we sit down.  I explain to him my perspective and experience on this trip.  He listens very carefully, very patiently.  After a pause, he offers his feedback.  First he expresses that he wishes we had told everyone earlier that I was raised Orthodox and not Catholic – he feels that others might have been more sensitive around me.  He agrees that the two churches share the same sacraments, they share many things theologically.  He acknowledges that this is a very “orthodox” group of Catholics (ironic choice of words, I think) and they tend to go overboard.

Then he says that he doesn’t agree with my statement that “everyone has their own path to God.”  He explains that in Uganda, many different faiths coexist peacefully – Muslim, Buddhist, and Christian.  We can express our beliefs and opinions with love, he says – it does not have to be in conflict.  At the same time, he has an integrity to what he believes is the truth about God, which is that the sacraments of the Church are the true way to God.  He says that it is ok that others aren’t Catholic, they can still go to heaven because they don’t know any better; they are innocent in their ignorance and cannot be blamed. God will forgive them. I feel the line in him about this.  I do not push my point because it’s clear that there’s no negotiation for him in this. I do as he recommends – respectfully disagree with love. 

I appreciate the strength of Father David’s conviction, and I’m glad I spoke with him.  I find it impossible to believe that God lacks so much creativity that “He” created only one path back to him. Many, many times in my past I have zealously shared my beliefs and ideals with others.  It’s been a painful lesson in humility for me to realize that my journey is my journey – I can share it with others, but ultimately, each individual is carried on her own way – good, bad, indifferent, transcendent, whatever.  So I humbly bow to Father David on his journey, and realize that his conviction is as much a part of his journey as anything else. 

***

In the afternoon, the group is planning on climbing Crucifix Mountain together. My folks are planning to go. I simply cannot. Not only do I treasure my quiet time alone, but I don’t want my open, loving experience of Crucifix Mountain to be seasoned with religious dogma.  I decide to keep to myself and head out for another hike up Apparition Hill.

On the way, I run into a fellow pilgrim who, giggling, points out a German bus parked on the side of the road.  The word on it may be totally normal in German but it is irreverent in English.  I’m feeling irreverent so I take a photo of it, laughing.  (Warning – close your eyes if you are easily offended…) (photo of bus)

I find that the quiet time on the mountain is very calming for me.  I head home afterwards, have a little bit of time to write, and then I walk over to meet my parents at the base of Crucifix Mountain. I find it beautiful that some of the pilgrims who can barely make it up the stairs of our pension managed to make it all the way to the top of the Mountain.  I have to call that a miracle.  I rejoice with them when I greet them.

We decide not to have a heavy meal tonight – we’ve been eating awfully well.  We’ve been passing by an aromatic bakery every day on our way to and from various places, so tonight we stop there for our dinner-snack.  I order bourek, a cheese filled delicacy made in different ways all over Eastern Europe. This version was baked like a torte and filled with a perfect thin layer of mild, soft, creamy cheese. The bread is buttery and rich and I am not only in flavor heaven but taste memory heaven – this is another food from my childhood. We go down the street to Viktor's restaurant for salad and gelato to round out the meal.

We head to mass and once again I sit on the benches in the back of the church. The conflict I felt last night and this morning has eased; I have returned to accepting the duality of Christianity, with all the good and the negativity, just as it is. I am able to feel the presence of love and peace in this place that runs like a river underneath everything, even the darkness.

I deeply enjoy the international mass, sitting in the setting sun.  There’s something magical about this mass, this sunlight.  When we leave mass to go back to the church, I am suddenly compelled to take a photo. 

I find my parents so we can walk back to the pension together. They whisper, in awe, that they saw the miracle of the sun. They had been sitting in the gazebo, facing the sunset. Both of them saw a darker circle, almost like an eclipse, appear in front of the sun, so that they could look straight at the sun without their eyes hurting or being damaged. The sun around it was spinning.  The “miracle of the sun” is one of the most common reports of miracles here in Medjugorje, but this was my parents’ first time seeing it. I could not see it, but I must have felt something magical happening. 

Walking home, I reflect…I am finding it remarkable, despite running into dogmatic walls and prejudices, that I am attending mass here twice a day – by choice! These Church services are not like anything I have experienced in other places. They feel real. People have their eyes closed in total spiritual bliss. They truly Believe, and they are in devotion and humility before God.  I mentioned earlier that my usual experience of mass is that people are drinking the ocean through a straw; here they are drinking cupfuls in big gulps (some of them are drinking buckets!), hungrily and with love.  Not everyone, of course, but there are enough that the energy in the church is something special. 

As a little girl, hearing the Orthodox liturgy in the mysterious language of Ancient Greek, I got carried into the deep mystery (which I think most children still have access to anyway), and my analytical mind didn’t get involved.  I got to stay in my heart.  I’m finding that church in Medjugorje is the closest experience to that beauty I experienced as a child. I even feel grace every time I take communion. I begin to wonder if I am going to turn into a real Catholic…and then I laugh.

Coming Thursday: Day 10 in Medjugorje: Meeting with a Visionary, Catholic Rehabilitation Center (85% Healing Rate!); A Field of Love at Adoration Service.

I’d love to hear your thoughts and insights! Post a comment here or email Sonya@illuminatedwisdom.com.