Sr Maria Antonia - Under Angel Wings

 

You can read the original source here.

 

Source for this information is from the book “Under Angel Wings- The Autobiography of Sister Maria Antonia”, Tan Books, 2000, Edited by Fr. J. Batista Reus, S.J.

 

Under Angel Wings is the true story of a Brazilian girl named Cecy Cony (later Sr. Maria Antonia), who was born in 1900 and was led to high sanc­tity under the continual guidance, protection and inspiration of her Guardian Angel, whom she called her "New Friend." The autobiography of Sister Maria Antonia was first published in 1949 by the Franciscan Press of Petropolis, Brazil. This book became so popular that the first edition was soon exhausted, and a second edition was issued in 1950. Because of the extraordinary popularity of the book, numerous editions were again printed during the 1950's, and translated into various languages. including the current one from Tan Publishers in 2000.

The editor of her autobiography was Father John Baptist Reus, SJ., who had been Sister Maria Antonia's spiritual director during the last few years of her life. In his introduction Father Reus tells us how the autobiography came to be written:
“Obliged by obedience, Sister Maria Antonia wrote the recollections of her life with a certain repugnance, and after asking the special help of Our Lord. As she finished each of the six notebooks of which the autobiography consists, she handed them in to her religious supe­riors, and did not ask anything further about them…” It was only after she died that the notebooks were published.

Her spiritual director Father John Baptist Reus, SJ writes- “…Humble, singularly sincere and innocent, she never lied in her life, that is, she never offended her Divine Master deliberately ["por querer” ie- intentionally]. She was incapable of inventing mystical occurrences. Neither from books nor in any other ordinary way could she have become acquainted with the supernatural phenomena that she describes so clearly. When she learned toward the end of her life that there were souls who never experienced the sensible presence of Our Lord at Holy Communion, she asked with great astonishment: ’Not even on the day of their First Holy Communion?’ When she received an answer in the negative, she replied very sadly ‘Those souls never came to know of our Lord's Presence in this life.’

Sister Maria Antonia saw her Guardian Angel throughout most of her life, however there is a period beginning in 1935 where God permitted that she no longer see her “New Friend”, perhaps because God was leading her, and drawing her ever closer to Himself through the “night of the spirit”, which is often experienced by mystics and those having reached the higher realms of spirituality.

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"Make yourself familiar with the Angels, and behold them frequently in spirit; for without being seen, they are present with you" -St Francis de Sales

 

Excerpts from: “Under Angel Wings- The Autobiography of Sister Maria Antonia”

 

The Angel - In the year 1905 the time for the carnival approached. At that season my mother would deck us out in fancy dress. Then, accompanied by Acacia and Coriceicao, my sisters and I would go with the other little ones to the town square. I had a great dread of those who disguised themselves in those horrible masks. I thought the masks were their real faces, and I believed that those persons were supernatural beings who lived in the depths of the earth, surrounded by fire, in that place about which Dona Mimosa had spoken.

I believe that this was the first year that I accompanied my sisters. All the confusion and noise of the square frightened me. The multi­tude of masked people, big and small, jumping around and beating the ground with those big balloons tied at the end of a stick-all this filled me with such terror that I might have died if the good God had not come to my aid. I was with the other children, who were enjoying themselves; but Acacia [her caregiver –editor] and Conceicao, con­versing with other servants, were not paying any attention to me.

Thus, filled with terror and with no one to comfort me, I conceived the idea of getting away from there and returning home. I did not know the way, but I resolved to leave by the big gate. This was all I knew. I did not think of anything else. I left the group of children, and immediately I was swallowed up in that small square, which to me was like a world with­out end. I did not cry. My great fear had frozen my tears.

In my terror I remembered the good Jesus [a crucifix in her home which she was devoted to], whom I had left behind alone, and I felt a great sorrow for not having brought Him with me. But I knew that my Father in Heaven sees and knows everything, and that He certainly saw me there alone. Just then a big man, wearing a hor­rible mask and with flashing eyes that I can still see in my imagination, approached me and took me by the hand. At that moment I could have died of fright.

I had walked a few steps, held prisoner in his big hand, when I sensed, at my side, with­out actually seeing anything-knew to be pres­ent just as truly as I knew the presence of the big masked man on my other side-the Angel whom I had seen in the picture at the home of Captain Bezerra. My Father in Heaven had sent this angel to stay with me and take me home. I was aware of his presence without see­ing him, but it was as if I had seen him. I had the absolute certainty that he was at my side, on the side opposite the masked man. Then the masked man freed me with a push and I did not see him anymore. He disappeared into the crowd.

All my terror now left me, and my soul was filled with a sweet tranquillity because of the confidence I felt in my "New Friend." I had come in sight of the gate leading out of the square when I saw Acacia running toward me. If I had seen her before the arrival of my "New Friend," I should certainly have run toward her with the same anxiety with which she was has­tening toward me. But my calmness no doubt quieted Acacia's anxiety; and neither she, nor my father, nor my mother, ever knew of this incident of the Angel, for this is the first time that I have related it.
From that day in February or March of 1905 my "New Friend" accompanied me always and everywhere. He stood guard with me at the foot of the big bureau as we watched before the Crucified Jesus. From that time I had no more fear of the semi-darkness of that room, for I felt the sweet, protecting presence of my "New Friend." That is the name I gave him and called him by until I was six years old, when I learned that he was my holy Guardian Angel. I under­stood him perfectly when he spoke to me, although I never heard his holy voice.

Her devotion to Jesus - Soon after the carnival I heard my father say­ing one day that we were going to take our vacation at the sea. On the following day I saw Acacia, Conceicao and my mother busily prepar­ing clothes and packages. We were going to the sea! This thought delighted me. My New Friend would go also. This I knew. Every member of the household was going, even the good Abelino, the soldier who bathed Congo. Abelino would drive the carriage. However, my father could not go. During our absence he would have to live in the barracks, as our house would be closed up. I was thinking about all this while I was arranging, in a little basket that Dona Mimosa had given me, the teddy bear and also the big doll, which could get into the basket only by sitting down.

Suddenly my great joy was changed into bit­ter sorrow as I remembered Someone. Even the little teddy bear would go; only my beloved Cru­cified Jesus would remain alone. He who had sent my New Friend to protect me from the masked man, He would have to remain in the dark, closed-up room. I would willingly have remained with Him, but I knew very well that my mother would not allow this. Ah, but-then the thought came to me-supposing, in place of the doll and the teddy bear, I should take along the crucifix. Acacia had given me the lit­tle basket for the doll and the teddy bear, but instead I would take the crucifix without my mother or Acacia knowing anything about it.

I went to the bedroom. Having placed the high chair near the bureau, I was able to reach my Great Friend and place Him in my lap. Then, going to the wardrobe, I took out a small cape and wrapped up that crucifix which I liked so much. It was thus that the crucifix went also to the sea. During the journey I kept the bas­ket with me all the time. When we arrived at the sea, I guarded it at the foot of my little bed. We stayed many days at the seaside, but the crucifix remained always in the little bas­ket. I brought it back to the city and placed it on top of the bureau without my mother or Acacia knowing.

The Temptation of the Peaches - One afternoon some other children and my sisters and I went for a walk in the country with Acacia and Conceicao. Acacia took money with her to buy fruit, and we carried little baskets. We went to a farm that was recommended by Abelino, the good soldier whom my father had brought with him from Santa Vitaria. Abelino conducted us to the farm.

When we arrived at the farm, a man with a hoe on his shoulder told us to enter. We ran into the orchard with Abelino, Acacia and Con­ceicao. While the man was gathering the fruit for Acacia, the other children, without the knowl­edge of our three guides, began to gather big peaches and plums, which they placed in their baskets. I saw them plainly. Their little baskets were nearly full, and only mine was empty. Just then I was standing under a peach tree. Look­ing up, I saw a big peach, and another, and another-all within reach of my hand. I thought:

"Why cannot I pick some peaches like the other children?" I stretched out my hand to pick a peach, and my fingers had already touched this big velvety peach, when I received the most sweet, calm warning of my New Friend. My arm, suspended in mid-air, was gently lowered by an "invisible hand," which I felt as really as if I had been touched by one of the persons I could see. For I had a better and more clear under­standing of the voice of my New Friend than of the spoken words of Mother Raphael, or Sis­ter Pauline, or Sister Irene, whom I could see when they spoke to me.

I repented immediately and with great sor­row of the big ugly sin that I was about to com­mit; and a great pity for the good Jesus filled my heart as I thought of the great big thorn that I had nearly hammered into His sacred head. That night, as I lay in bed, I wept bit­terly after I had begged forgiveness from the good Jesus, from Our Lady and from my New Friend. (This custom of begging forgiveness of my New Friend I kept up until I was fourteen years old.)

In one of her instructions Sister Irene had spoken to us about a young boy who died and was sentenced to suffer in Purgatory because of the lies he had told during life. Up to that time I had not known the meaning of a lie, and I imagined that the poor boy had committed a very big sin to deserve such a punishment. How­ever, my New Friend would give me the expla­nation very soon.

The Broken Glass - Each afternoon I was accustomed to go with Acacia and the neighborhood children to buy milk. Each child brought along a little glass wrapped in a napkin. I had a very pretty green glass decorated with a golden wing and spotted with little stars. It was Captain Barcelos [a family friend] who had given it to me.

One of my companions took a great liking to my glass and said to me, "Give me your glass and you can drink milk from mine." Acacia, overhearing this, said, "No, my little lady, each one must drink milk from her own glass." My companion made no answer, and it seemed that she accepted the denial without bitterness. We continued walking for a short time when sud­denly my companion turned toward me and gave a violent tug to my napkin, so that the glass fell to the ground and broke into little pieces. With the same speed that she did this she ran toward Acacia, who had gone ahead of us, and said: "Acacia, Cecy was in such a rage because you did not allow her to exchange glasses with me that she just threw hers on the ground and broke it purposely." Naturally, Aca­cia was highly indignant and she said to me:

"What a beautiful way to act, my little angry puppy! Now you can do without a glass and without milk. While the others drink milk, you can watch them!"

Everything happened so quickly that it was all over before I realized what had happened. But then I became so angry and revengeful that I was just about to run after my companion in order to break her glass, when my New Friend entered into action, holding me back in the same manner as when he hindered me from stealing the fruit. And I heard clearly the warn­ing of my New Friend: "Your poor companion has committed two big sins." The first, which referred to the breaking of the glass, I did not at that time understand. But the second-ah, I suddenly understood that the second sin was the lie told to Acacia, the same kind of sin for which the young boy was punished. Yes, my com­panion had lied to Acacia, who thought that everything had happened as it was told to her. Now I understood perfectly the meaning of a lie. I said to my New Friend: "Now I know. It would be a lie if I were to break a glass and afterward tell my mother I did not do it."

We finally arrived at the place where we were accustomed to buy the milk, and I forgot to tell Acacia that it was not I who had broken the glass. Perhaps it was because my New Friend was with me and I respected his presence even more than I respected the presence of Mother Raphael, Sister Irene and Sister Pauline, the authority of these being supreme in my eyes. Acacia, however, always allowed me to have what I wanted; so she gave me milk from my sister's glass.

Thus it was that my New Friend hindered me from committing the ugly and low sin of vengeance

Oh my holy Guardian Angel, if I were to tell all that you have done for me, a big book would not contain the account of all your holy inspirations.

Modesty, the Handmaid of Purity - If my New Friend had not filled me with the greatest respect for his holy presence, I think that I should have acquired at an early age care­less habits, more or less immodest. I realized perfectly well, when I was in the presence of the Sisters or of other persons for whom I had great respect, that I should be careful of the postures I assumed. But I learned to be even more careful when I was alone, for then I felt myself being observed by my New Friend Until I was eight years of age it was Acacia who dressed and bathed me, combed my hair, put me to bed and called me in the morning. I had learned to rely on her too much; so it was not until I was ten or eleven that I dis­pensed completely with her services in this regard.

Oftentimes, on getting up in the morn­ing and dressing myself-for example, putting on my stockings-I was not careful of my posi­tion or of my dress. At such times I immedi­ately felt the holy presence of my Guardian Angel so vividly, without ever seeing him, and I so strongly felt his reproval of my improper posture, that, being thoroughly ashamed, I would close my eyes lest I see his holy face regarding me sternly.

This scene was repeated innumerable times, sometimes when I was alone, other times when I was in the midst of the most interesting games. Through the grace of the good God I do not remember ever resisting these holy warnings of my New Friend, even though oftentimes I had to subdue my rebellious nature, filled with bad inclinations as it was.

On one occasion my father took us to see a military celebration in Rio Grande do Sul. I was delighted when I saw that there anyone could ride on horseback. Women and children were doing it. I had never ridden except once or twice when my father had seated me on his horse named "Congo". At this celebration, I had my heart set on riding. A certain lieutenant was taking care of me, and he brought me a beau­tiful little pony. This filled me with happiness. He placed me astride the pony as if I were a boy, and I had just begun to pull on the reins when I heard and felt the warning of my New Friend just as vividly as I heard and perceived the lieutenant. [Since God had chosen Cecy for intimate union with Him­self during her earthly life, her Guardian Angel was charged with the duty of preserving her from the danger of even the slightest fault against modesty.]

My New Friend did not want me to continue any farther. I felt his holy arm taking me gen­tly from the pony, just as I had previously felt the lieutenant lifting me onto the pony's back. When I reached the ground, I said to the lieu­tenant: "I do not wish to ride any more." The lieutenant admired my seeming agility in dis­mounting from the pony, and he related the fact to my father, who called me cowardly and silly. I should have liked to ride on the pony, but I wanted much more to please my New Friend.

First Communion and the Sensible Presence of Jesus - The great day of my First Holy Communion, October 17, approached very slowly. Before this great event, we made our second Confession. Finally the eve of the holy day arrived. Sister Irene took good care of us. When I returned home, I remained seated in the little rocking chair at the foot of the bureau, preparing the prayers which we should recite in common before and after the visit of Our Lord, as Sis­ter Irene had told us. I did not yet know how to read quickly, and I was accustomed to point out each word with my finger. Sister Irene did not want us to read our prayers, but I wanted to say them perfectly without mispronouncing one word, so that Our Lord could hear and understand me….

…Finally, the seventeenth of October arrived. For me this was a holy date, a date of infinite happiness, a date on which I came to know at first hand-or rather when I welcomed within myself--the good Jesus, the Lord of Heaven, whom a few months before I had known only from the big picture in my mother's bedroom and from the beloved crucifix on the big bureau.

My good Jesus, as I look back, what holy longing fills my soul as I think of how infinitely happy I was on the day of my First Communion! That was the first time, oh my God, that I felt really and vividly within myself Thy most holy presence, Thy Real Pres­ence. It was indeed well that I waited for Thee, oh my Jesus, and I was not deceived. I knew that I would feel Thee in me, not as I perceived and felt the presence of my New Friend, but as if Thou, oh my God, were I myself, and as if I myself were Thou. You in me and I in Thee. Thy soul in my soul, Thy heart in my heart! Two souls in only one soul! Two hearts in only one heart! The great omnipo­tent God and His miserable little creature! I do not know how to describe how much I loved Thee at that moment, and how much You, oh great God, have loved me. Only we two, Jesus and His little "Cece," can know this. Oh good and most faithful Jesus, thirty long years have passed since then, and still we love each other very much; infinitely more today, is it not so, oh my God? From that day I felt always, always, Thy most holy presence in me, until the past year, when Thou did leave Thy little ser­vant immersed in the most sorrowful abandonment, in the most sorrowful longing. However, may Thy most holy will be fulfilled in Thy little creature! It is true that even in the novitiate You hid Yourself from me at times, but soon, very soon, I did find Thee.

The Oath of Fidelity - On that sacred day of my First Communion, October 17, 1906, after I had returned home, accompanied not only by my New Friend, but bearing within me my Divine Guest, I desired most ardently to lock myself in my little room and there to remain alone with my God. 1 had so many things to say to Him, so many favors to ask from Him. I desired to clasp Him to my heart, to protest my love to Him, to make Him innumerable promises. But alas! Acacia was there waiting for me, ready to take me to the house of my grandmother and my godmother. I went with her, but very soon returned home.

When Acacia had taken off my white dress and the veil with its wreath of flowers, I asked her to let me wear one of my Sunday dresses, because I was thinking of the Great Visitor I was entertaining. Dressed once more, I ran to my room and sat in my little chair quietly, seriously, respect­fully, using my best manners; and I began to make acts of love-many acts of love-to my God. I embraced myself, because in me I embraced Jesus. A thousand promises of love and fidelity I made to Him in my childish lan­guage, and I knew that Jesus understood me very well-much better than my father or mother.

I felt so vividly within me the presence of my God, though in a manner much different from the way I perceived my New Friend. It was as if I myself were the good Jesus-He, my Divine Guest, listened to me without being bored. And I, without hearing His holy voice, listened atten­tively and lovingly to what Jesus wished from His little servant: that I never, never commit even one sin, so that He, Jesus, might never be separated from me-not even once, not even for one moment!

Then getting up from the chair, I knelt down and made a little cross with my two index fin­gers. This I kissed in my childish simplicity and said with the most firm resolution: "Oh good and beloved Jesus, I swear to Thee, my Lord, that I do not want ever to commit any sin." This was the first and only oath that I ever took in the world. Perhaps I did not understand the immense obligation that I assumed. I cannot say, but I do know this much: I made this oath moved by a great desire never to offend the good God. Until today I kept this oath as a secret in my heart. I never revealed it to any­one. I took this oath while Jesus was within me and my New Friend was at my side.

And this is the moment when I reveal my secret.

Jesus, the good Jesus, accepted and guarded in His most Sacred Heart this oath of a weak crea­ture; and through His grace He took care that this oath was never broken, even to this date.

Oh my God, please continue to take care of Thy little spouse. Enclose in Thy most Sacred Heart until my last breath this oath which I made to Thee with such great love and sincerity.”

 

 

The source for this information is the wonderful Autobiography “Under Angel Wings”. See link at the top of this article on how to obtain it. Later in the narrative, we read how her Guardian Angel would spread forth his wings and shield her from viewing the bathers at the beach, and also certain movies at the movie theater, always keeping a close watch over her modesty and purity.

Sister Maria Antonia died a holy death on the night of April 24, 1939, at age 40.

Sister Maria Antonia, pray for us!

 

"My holy and most faithful New Friend, only today do I realize the innumerable dangers to which I was exposed in this evil world, and from which I escaped unharmed, solely on the account of the special grace of my God, and thy most faithful protection. Oh my God, may You be eternally glorified in the weakness of Thy little creature! And to thee, my New Friend, I give my grateful love, the love of thy little sister and friend. Amen." -Sister Maria Antonia writing shortly before her death

 

Miracles of Lourdes

 

You can read the original source here.

 

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 then 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 set 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. Mr. 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 his 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.

 

 

 

“St. John of the Cross' Advice on Conquering Self-Love” by Dr. Tom Neal

 You can read the original source here.

 

14 December, 2017.

 Pope Francis has cautioned that the biggest enemy of mercy is “self-love.” St. John of the Cross agrees, and teaches that the greatest work of Divine mercy in us is God’s work of overcoming our distorted “self-love” so that we might become capable of the selfless love that is the origin of mercy. Mercy, remember, is loving and seeking the well-being of difficult, needy, irritating, unattractive, unpleasant, smelly, nasty, unworthy others unto discomfort and self-renunciation.

By self-love, neither John nor Pope Francis mean to disparage that healthy love for self that reverences all that is good in us and appropriately cares for our genuine well-being (c.f. Ephesians 5:29). Rather, both are disparaging that self-absorbed inward turning that thwarts the authentic good found in hard virtues, resists God’s holy will, and prevents us from loving with the love of Jesus Crucified.

In his treatise Dark Night, John begins his discussion of the purgative phases of spiritual growth by using the Seven Capital Sins to analyze the extent to which the incurved ego remains alive and well in those who have made significant progress in prayer, have tasted of remarkable graces, but have not yet gone through the more mature developments in the spiritual life that require God to expose and purify their well-disguised spiritual narcissism. As a Carmelite priest I know says it: “What St. John calls beginners are those who won’t let God pluck out the spiritual lollypop He once placed in their mouth when they were small children. God gives us spiritual sweets when we are young to get out attention, but removes them when it’s time for stronger nourishment. Beginners at the threshold of deeper stages of growth fight God’s invitation to maturity kicking and screaming…”

Here’s a section where St. John describes the inner dynamics of Sloth in the spiritual beginner, and then refers to the “dark night” that God eventually leads them into in order to dismantle the machinery of self-absorption. These dark nights include both interior trials and exterior trials that strip away the “props” that previously supported the soul’s narcissism. Note the “self love” that still drives the slothful’s spiritual life:

 

    "Many of these beginners want God to desire what they want, and they become sad if they have to desire God’s will. They feel an aversion toward adapting their will to God’s. Hence they frequently believe that what is not their will, or brings them no satisfaction, is not God’s will, and, on the other hand, that if they are satisfied, God is too. They measure God by themselves and not themselves by God, which is in opposition to his teaching in the Gospel that those who lose their life for his sake will gain it and those who desire to gain it will lose it.

    Beginners also become bored when told to do something unpleasant. Because they look for spiritual gratifications and delights, they are extremely lax in the fortitude and labor perfection demands. Like those who are reared in luxury, they run sadly from everything rough, and they are scandalized by the cross, in which spiritual delights are found. And in the more spiritual exercises their boredom is greater. Since they expect to go about in spiritual matters according to the whims and satisfactions of their own will, entering by the narrow way of life, about which Christ speaks, is saddening and repugnant to them.

    It is enough to have referred to the many imperfections of those who live in this beginner’s state to see their need for God to put them into the state of proficients. He does this by introducing them into the dark night, of which we will now speak. There, through pure dryness and interior darkness, he weans them from the breasts of these gratifications and delights, takes away all these trivialities and childish ways, and makes them acquire the virtues by very different means. No matter how earnestly beginners in all their actions and passions practice the mortification of self, they will never be able to do so entirely—far from it—until God accomplishes it in them passively by means of the purgation of this night."