There is nothing new to say about Lourdes. The statement ment is not so superfluous as it seems, for in a centenary year the need is not so much to find fresh superlatives, or even to quote spectacular statistics, as to return to the simple, original fact and find its essential meaning once more. This is far from easy to do: it is as difficult indeed as it is to remenibe the grotto in the modern town of Lourdes. And the analogy is not inexact. What men make of the marvellous can reflect all their cupidity and stupidity, too. We should not under-estimate the effect of the horrors that surround Lourdes on those who may be anxious to discern its truth but are baffled by its setting—in the written record as well as in the piety stalls and the hotels. And the bluff apologetic of the hearty publicists—‘I really like all those shops’—is far from reassuring.

Those who accuse the Church of mariolatry would dowell to study the history of mariology. Of our Lady more than of any other creature it can be truly said that she has had greatness thrust upon her; true, she foresaw it, and humbly stated it when she sang, ‘Behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed’; but the honour, the glory, the veneration were not of her seeking, and when they came to her it was first of all as a result of defending the truth about her son; and as they grew and grew through the ages their effect was, as she would wish, to increase men's love and understanding of her Son; while on die other hand attempts to destroy her cultus and deny her greatness have ended in a denial of the divinity of her Son. She began by declaring, ‘Behold the handmaid—the chatted—of the Lord’; and her words summarize not only her life and personality but the story of her cultus as well.

The centenary year of Lourdes has drawn the attention of the world as it was drawn in that wonderful year 1858. Some approach with an attitude of reverence, others with a faint but somewhat sceptical admiration, and there will no doubt be others who greet the celebrations with a scoffing smile of contempt. So far, however, there has been little sig of scoffing or contempt. Indeed the most striking thing that has appeared since the opening of the centenary year was, not the enthusiastic crowds of pilgrims who assisted at the ceremonies of February 11, but the dignified and respectful way in which the great journals of the secular press reported the event. They showed no fumbling or hesitation in the use of Catholic terminology nology; they spoke of ‘the Blessed Virgin’ and ‘Saint Bernadette’ without the use of inverted commas, nor was there any hint of scepticism about the visions or the miracles of Lourdes.

Hail, then from us, O holy mystical Trinity, who has gathered us all together in this church of Mary, the Mother of God. Hail, from us Mary, Mother of God, majestic treasure of the whole world, the lamp unquenchable, the crown of virginity, the sceptre of orthodoxy, the indestructible temple, the dwelling of the Illimitable, Mother and Virgin, throught whom he is called in the holy Gospels “Blessed who cometh in the name of the Lord”. Hail, thou who didst contain him in the holy virginal womb, who cannot be contained, thou through whom the Holy Trinity is glorified and adored throughout the world; through whom heaven rejoices, through whom the angels and archangels are glad; through whom devils are put to flight through whom the tempter-devil fell from heaven; through whom the fallen creature is taken up into heaven; through whom all creation, held fast by the madness of idolatry has come to the knowledge of truth; through whom holy baptism has come to believers, and the oil of gladness; through whom churches are erected throughout the world; through whom the nations are brought to repentance.

It might have been called ‘Hy Brazil the Isle of the Blessed’, for a blessed isle it unquestionably is. There is a reverence in the air here that is almost palpable. It has been generated by the prayers and sufferings of the pilgrims that have trod its rocky surface for fifteen hundred years. But the resemblance to Hy Brazil must end there. Hy Brazil was a mythical place, Lough Derg is a reality. It is one of the oldest places of pilgrimage in Christendom, and secure in that knowledge it reposes quietly and unobtrusively in the brown lake amongst the little bare hills. It has no need to advertise itself, for it is famous throughout the Christian world. To this hallowed spot year after year and century after century the faithful have flocked barefooted and penitent to lift up their hearts in prayer to God.