Mysterious Calling Back To Rocamadour

My longings to return to Rocamadour took on a rather sudden mysterious calling again about  7 days ago.  Out of the blue,  I decided to go back to Rocamadour for another procession of Notre Dame de Rocamadour, this time to celebrate her nativity on September the 8th, which is a major feast day for Catholics and Orthodox Christians.

Rocamadour is a breathtakingly beautiful sacred pilgrimage site in southwestern France, where the presence of La Vierge Noire, Notre Dame de Rocamadour bathes all who seek her most loving maternal love and tenderness.

Thousands of pilgrims continue to come to Rocamadour, even by foot on the trail of Saint Jacques de Compostella.  Throughout history, since around 800, Rocamadour has drawn the faithful; from kings to Popes to honour La Vierge Noire.

Miracles occur, spiritual conversions happen, and even savings at sea are attributed to Our Lady of Rocamadour.   Notre Dame de Rocamadour mysteriously called me many years ago and has continued to do so several times, at least 7 or 8.

Perched high on the massive solid rock cliff, the ancient Cité was literally built into and anchored off the wall of the monumental Roc of Amadour.  From afar, it practically defies gravity hanging from the cliff like the tendrils of a flowering vine.

The whole area is permeated with a most mysterious soft yet vibrant energy that reverberates like an echo throughout the deepest green valley below.

Words are difficult to convey what I feel about Rocamadour because of the deep spirituality involved limits the extent of describing what must be felt and experienced, not intellectualized.

This vibrant loving energy of Mary Holy Theotokos through the presence of Notre Dame of Rocamadour literally oozes everywhere here. Waves of Her Love and tenderness penetrates and caresses your heart and soul.

Since my words can not do justice to what I feel while in Rocamadour, I can only attempt to limp through describing my weekend in more tangible descriptions.

The drive down takes about 5 hours through the western central part of France, passing by Orleans, Bourges, Limoges and Brive La Gaillard till you turn off the main highway into the mountains of Dordogne.

This is foie gras and truffle country and you see many geese and ducks lounging around under the shade of oak and walnut trees.  The rich purple wine of AOC Cahors, just south, is one of my favourites, with vineyards starting around Rocamadour now producing their own regional wines.

It is also an area famous for the great goat cheese of Rocamadour, so likewise, you’ll see many a goat farm off the zig-zagging roads that hug the many high hills of the countryside.

Tradition says that Rocamadour was founded by Zacchiarus, the publican who was perched high in the tree when Jesus rode into Jericho on a donkey.

He was said to have reached the shores of present-day France, perhaps in the same boat as Saint Mary Magdalene, along with Saint Martha, her brother Lazarus, Veronica, and Sarah of Eygpt who were all fleeing for their safety. Persecutions of the early Christians happened often after the crucifixion of Christ.

While Saint Mary Magdalene went eastwards to Christianize the Provencal part of southern France, Zacharias and Veronica went northwest and after Veronica died Zacharias became a hermit on the cliff of present-day Rocamadour.

A saintly man full of gentle kindness and love, he became know as Amadour, the one who loves in Occitanie, the old language of the region. He told of the teachings of Christ to all those who would listen and by 800 there was a monastery and monks that was already drawing the faithful to honour La Vierge.

Around the year 1166, at the bottom of a deep crypt, monks found his body, totally preserved, and uncorrupted by decay.  He had been buried next to the chapel holding the blackened statue of Notre Dame de Rocamadour.

This small carved dark wood statue of Mary with Jesus seated on her lap still resides in the Chapel de La Vierge Noire. Some say the statue was carved by Saint Luke, but also possibly by Saint Amadour.

Before long, the rock of now Saint Amadour, called Roc Amadour became a major Christian pilgrimage site, attracting thousands throughout the year to honour the mother of Christ and bath in the miraculous energy that permeates the earth and air.

They are still coming!    The chapel at any given time is always filled with votive candles lining the back wall, each one offering up prayers for Mary’s intercession, prayers, gratitude and miracles.

Rocamadour is tiny, with only two streets and with 216 towering steep stone stairs that lead to the sanctuaries, consisting of the Basilica Saint Sauveur, Chapel of La Vierge Noire and  4 other chapels, plus the Chemin de La Croix.

Many years ago, a lot of pilgrims would climb up on the knees for extra reverence and penitence!

I can’t imagine doing so, as it is hard enough by foot!  I did not see anyone climbing up on their knees, but some foot pilgrims doing Compostela were recognised in Sunday Mass and given scallop shells pouches of Rocamadour.

You can see a few of the fossilized imprint of a scallop shell that pilgrims carried with them embedded into the stone steps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was lucky to have found an adorable ancient stone house to rent overlooking the emerald green valley.  The front entrance was framed with massive vines dangling the sweetest of dark grapes for plucking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the past, I was privileged to stay in the incredible Maison de Marie, an ancient hotellerie for pilgrims built into the rock above.  Now it is reserved for the clergy and other visiting religious.

The wonderful owner  Florian, who is also a talented potter warmly welcomed us with a bottle of Rocamadour wine.

We were enchanted with his own recounting of the special energy of Rocamadour, saying that it was only one of two places on the planet that emanated such encompassing positive loving energy.

We went back to the lovely restaurant of the Beau Site hotel, Jehan de Valon that night.

The superb terrace was too cool for placement but the Quercy lamb was delicious and generous.

Sweetbreads in a rich sauce were excellent but would have preferred it not including capers.

The baba soaked in prune eau de vie was good but overpowered by the dark rick chocolate sorbet.

The Cahors was well perfumed and succulent as most of the well-made ones are with 100% Auxerrois/Cot grapes known more popularly elsewhere as Malbec.

 

 

The procession always starts up of the top of the cliff at the ancient ruins of the Hospitalet that at one time welcome pilgrims sick and exhausted by the time they reached Rocamadour by foot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heading the procession is a larger replica of Notre Dame de Rocamadour in a little boat seen in the photo above.

Holding lit candles we chant songs to the Blessed Holy Mary as we slowly descend down into the main street only to have to go up those 216 stairs towards the basilica where Mass is held.

I love all processions to honour beloved Blessed Holy Mary Theotokos, but the processions at Rocamadour take on an even more mysterious sacredness.

Singing the Ave Maria while slowly ascending those stairs as thousands have done before me, is in some ways an ascension into another sacred space known only to our hearts and felt in our soul.

Glory to the one who birthed the Christ child on earth!   Her encompassing womb was the first altar to honour Jesus.  “Blessed are thou amongst all women and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus,”  as we chant the Rosary over and over.

After the procession, there was a fireworks display like there was the very first time I was called to Rocamadour in 1989, when I had no idea of the significant sacredness that awaited me, nor the spiritual journey that would evolve.

I wrote about that first time in a post back in September 2012.  At that time, there was also a spectacular sound and light spectacle that told the history of Rocamadour.

Sunday we ending up climbing those rigorous steep stone steps twice.  I consider myself fairly in good shape with strong legs, but I did have to rest a few minutes several times before I reached the top to the Basilica.

There are elevators for those with week knees and leg muscles, the elderly, for carrying babies and kids and for those too exhausted to climb up again!

 

A few more steps leads you into the candlelit chapel of La Vierge Noire.  I have so many times kneeled in front of Notre Dame de Rocamadour, her image is imprinted on my brain.

The views at the top of the sanctuaries overlooking the tiny village are marvellous.

Here I am looking nostalgic and sad towards Maison Marie where I have many memories of staying there in happier times, before the death of my son.  This is my first return since his death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Chemin de la Croix with all the stations of the cross starts on the level of the Basilica and winds up towards the top of the cliff.  No steps, but the long walk up is steep!  Again a few stops to catch your breath!

After all that cardio, I was famished!  A huge refreshing salad of melted Rocamadour cheese, smoked duck magret and other regional charcutrie was delicious as was filling.

Early Monday morning, while lying in bed, I started to hear those strange sounds through the open window that I had remembered the first time I was called here.  They sound like whooshing breath sounds you hear in a stethoscope.

No, it couldn’t be! That would be too eerily a coincidence! Was I dreaming?

You can imagine my shock and surprise when I saw the brightly coloured hot air balloon floating past my window!

Once again I felt transported back in time, 30 years ago to 1989!   The very same valley that I awoke to those strange sounds turned out to be the same coloured hot air balloon!

The first time I had to sleep in the car parked in the valley because there was no room available, now I am in the luxury of a soft bed overlooking the valley.

It now dawned on me why I had such a sudden calling to come back!  The fireworks, that was supposed to have taken place in August on Assumption had been postponed due to the surrounding dryness from all the scorching heat.

And then the hot air balloon too, that does not fly every day either! What a return celebration I had been granted!  Such a flood of memories!

I am 30 years older and hopefully somewhat wiser at least, but still a pilgrim at heart!  I had come wanting to give gratitude for all of my life’s blessings,  especially for my daughter Aimée, my son André in Heaven and grandchildren Isabelle and Brayden and all the kind people who have touched my heart.

Now Notre Dame de Rocamadour gifts me again.  A new journey? A message of encouragement for sure!

Despite the grief and sadness that I will always carry for my beloved son, I have to continue to sail up and forward with gratitude for my life and blessings much like that hot air balloon.

Through the valleys of life and up over the painful rocky realms that scrape and bruise our souls, I must fly.  Trusting that with God’s guidance and the tender love and intercession of Blessed Mother Mary, Holy Theotokos, along with the Light of Christ, I will remain aloft to continue my journey.

Following the light of Her Christ Child, Jesus leads you to many unexpected places.  We are all called to bring Light and Love into this world through whatever spirituality or tradition you hold dear.

The workings of the heart can never be fully revealed as they are too cloaked in mystery.   Revelations that awaken your soul to higher heights of understanding and Love come when your heart is open and seeking.

God whispers to our soul and the Holy Spirit writes in our heart that which we need to know for the moment.

Rocamadour and Notre Dame de Rocamadour remain for me a mysterious sacred place and energy that resonates within my soul.  For those who seek with an open and loving heart, may your quest lead you too to that which kindles The Light!

P.S.  Couldn’t leave without a piece of Florian Fondronnier’s beautiful ceramics, all made with love and appropriately called La Lune Enchantée.

Plus, some more candles, a rosary, cheese and the unusual aperitif wine made from green walnuts!