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The
Apparition at Knock
Co Mayo, Ireland.
21st August 1879
The
Story
Just
in case you haven’t heard the story: Knock is a village in
the western Irish county of Mayo. On 21st August 1879, at
about 8 o’clock in the evening, fifteen people, - men, women
and children ranging in age from six to seventy five, - had
a vision.
Against
the background of the south gable of their parish church,
they saw distinctly, to the right, a plain altar on which
stood a cross and in front of it a lamb encircled by adoring
angels. To the left, were three standing figures: beside the
altar stood a young bishop; then, quite evidently, the Virgin
Mary, clothed in white robes with a golden rose on her forehead
and a brilliant crown on her head, and at the other side of
her, another man in a plain robe, his head bowed in an attitude
of prayer.
The people
recited the rosary and continued to see this vision for two
hours. It was a wet evening and they were soaked with rain.
None fell in the direction of the church gable, where the
ground remained perfectly dry.
Within
six weeks of this apparition the Archbishop of Tuam set up
an enquiry. Witnesses and possible natural explanations were
investigated. The report was favourable. In 1936, Mrs. Mary
O’Connell, one of the original witnesses, gave evidence under
oath from her death bed. At the end of her statement she added:
“I am quite clear about everything I have said, and I make
this statement knowing I am going before my God”.
Pilgrimage
began at once in the West, and then spread to other parts
of Ireland. There were many cures of the sick. For long Knock
was not widely known outside Ireland. Then, in the centenary
year, Pope John Paul II came as a pilgrim and confirmed it
as a major Marian shrine. Each year, up to two million people
visit.
Knock:
to that poverty and famine-stricken place, where unemployment,
evictions and emigration were the order of the day, the Apparition
came as an encouragement and a sign of hope. Perhaps the familiarity
of Irish Catholics with the famed shrines of Lourdes and Fatima
may have somewhat obscured for them the uniqueness of the
message of Knock. The devotions of the Knock pilgrimage, its
procession, stations and hymnody are so reminiscent of Lourdes.
The title “Our Lady of Knock”, lovely though it is, fortifies
this impression, recalling Our Lady of Lourdes, of Fatima,
etc.
Yet at
Knock a different grace was given. At other famous shrines
Mary appears alone to the seers, who transmit messages and
a verbal summons to prayer and penance, addressed to a sinful
world. At Knock there were no words: the message must be contained
in the image offered silently to our contemplation. Mary is,
indeed, a prominent figure, but she is one of a group.
Over
a hundred and twenty years ago, the poor people of Mayo and
their bishop, took this Apparition as an encouragement. They
interpreted it as a message of hope and serenity, of joy in
spite of suffering.
As we
ponder over the Apparition, the grace given at Knock reaches
us too. This is not 1879, and the people who were blessed
by seeing it lived in very different circumstances from ours.
Yet, as we gaze at the representation, we can experience joy
and serenity, find strength for where we are now, and press
on to where God is calling us.
Knock
echoes revelation given in Scripture:
“In my vision,
I heard the sound of an immense number of angels gathered
around the throne…...there were ten thousand times ten thousand
of them and thousands upon thousands, shouting, ‘The Lamb
that was sacrificed is worthy to be given power, riches, wisdom,
strength, honour, glory and blessing’. Then I heard all the
living things in creation…..crying, ‘To the One who is sitting
on the throne and to the Lamb, be all praise, honour, glory
and power, for ever and ever’.” (Rev.5/11-13)
The Lamb, on an
altar in front of a plain cross, symbolises Jesus who offered
himself to us and was slain, the one who was sacrificed and
now makes intercession for us before the throne of God. This
is really the centrepiece of the Apparition at Knock. We are
present at the liturgy of heaven. There is to be a Judgement,
but the emphasis is not on fear and terror. We are drawn into
the sweeping host of angels, to anticipate the delight of
God’s presence.
Look at the young
man beside the altar: he is St. John, the Apostle. He is holding
an open book in one hand, while the other is held up as though
preaching. John is traditionally identified as author of the
Book of Revelations (the Apocalypse). He is writing about
the Last Things, preaching the final victory of Jesus over
evil, the everlasting Kingdom of God. He is depicted wearing
a medieval mitre, symbolic of his being apostle and bishop,
teaching with a mission from Christ.
The central figure
of the three is Mary. We might expect her to be portrayed
as the woman of Revelations chapter 12, personifying Israel
and the Church. No, she is portrayed instead as the first,
the most glorious of the redeemed. She is taller, more radiant
than the others, signifying her unique stature. She is perfected
in love (the golden rose), in glory (the brilliant crown),
in praise and intercession (her raised hands).
To the left of
the Apparition, St. Joseph is present, his hands joined, his
head bowed, wonderfully calm and dignified. He is not mentioned
in the Book of Revelation, and here seems to stand a little
apart, as though he is contemplating the Apparition rather
than being a part of it. Does he not represent you and me,
reverently present before mysteries in which we are involved,
but which lie beyond our present comprehension?
As we gaze at the
scene, we are sometimes moved by the innocence, the gentleness
of the Lamb, reassured by his victory; sometimes we join in
the dancing joy of the angels. Or we simply admire Mary, and
then again dare to feel we are praising with her. We may be
thankful for the word of revelation and the ever youthful
authority personified by John. In the end, we are standing
to one side with Joseph, calm, our human dignity reassured,
filled with gratitude for all we are promised and are already
sharing.
During
a pilgrimage of the Marist congregations to Knock in 1988,
I realised there is a connection between the Apparition and
an important, but often neglected element of the Marist foundations
and charism.
From
the very beginning, the Marist inspiration, life and mission
was associated with Mary’s vocation in heaven, and with the
Last Things. John Claude Courveille’s experience at Le Puy
was the catalyst which led to the Marist project being made
known. He understood Mary as saying: “...in heaven, sharing
his (Jesus’) glory, I follow his path still in the work he
is doing for his church on earth…..In this last age of impiety
and unbelief, it is my wish and the wish of my Son that there
be another society: …...it will be called ‘Society of Mary’,
and its members will be called ‘Marists’.”
Carrying
out “the work of Mary”, is an end-time mission that Mary wills
and supports by her prayer. John Claude Colin constantly repeated,
as coming from Mary, “I was the support of the new-born Church;
I shall also be at the end of time” (FS 4/1). We understand
this was his internalisation of Courveille’s message, but
Marists have been contented to dwell on Mary’s presence in
Nazareth or in the new-born Church, and have been wary of
“the end of time” bit and its hazy implications.
Jan Snijders
has pinned down the “end of time” to the Enlightenment and
its contemporary extension, secularisation. I believe it is,
more broadly, a post-modern version of the ancient struggle
against demonic forces that in every age damage or destroy
humankind’s best endeavours, derail our projects or shunt
them down sidings leading to nowhere.
In Ireland
we have in many ways become an astonishingly buoyant, successful
people. At the same time, appalling instances of social and
personal evil are constantly coming to light. Many people
have been suffering great stress and injustice. There is increased
uncertainty about moral or religious values and a decline
in church attendance. What is true or right? Who do we rely
on? Where do we turn to? What can we do?
In this
situation we are contemplating the Knock Apparition, given
to a hopelessly abused, impoverished people. We come into
the presence of the victorious Lamb. We sense again the essential
authority and holiness of the Scripture and the Church, the
intercession and praise of Mary, of saints and angels and
whatever else God may have created for his glory and their
happiness.
Is this
perhaps escaping from grey reality into devotionalism? I do
not think so. We are simply looking into our spiritual inheritance
for balance, serenity and joy, as we strive to counter spiritual
famine. It is simply to draw hope from the wondrous encouragement
given by God to other Irish men and women at another time
of dire need.
Denis Green sm
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