Loreto, Pilgrimage of the Humble: A Testimony

Father Jean Ladame, author of numerous books on Marian shrines, gives his testimony on a pilgrimage he once made to Loreto, on September 8, 1964: "Indeed, what a strange spectacle all those people presented, lying on the ground under the arcades of the Apostolic Palace, near the shrine. Opposite the main square, souvenir or candy sellers tried to attract customers. But in that area, the pilgrims were trying to sleep or at least to get some rest. They must have had to wake up early, perhaps even during the night, coming on foot from their villages in Ancona. They wanted to be there to celebrate Our Lady's birthday. But, before or after their devotions, they were tired from their route. These poor people were lying on the slabs of stone with their meagre bundles under their heads as a pillow. These people are country folk, with prematurely-aged and sunburnt faces from outdoor work. They are the little and simple people of God; their faith is far from being intellectual, nonetheless it is strong, and they have placed their hope in the Blessed Virgin. They would not have wanted to miss being here with her on this day. At the high altar of the Basilica, a hieratic cardinal officiates pontifically, surrounded by bearded religious. At the podium, a choir sings hymns in four voices: even the Creed is sung in polyphony. People congregated to receive communion in the French chapel of the Holy Sacrament, the others rush to enter the Santa Casa. Each person waiting his turn speaks loudly to his neighbor: we are in Italy! We, too, stand in line and prepare ourselves to enter the holy place. We recite the Litany of the Blessed Virgin which was, in fact, composed here in Loreto: the Italian pilgrims seem surprised to see us pray together in this way, especially since we had not taken our handkerchiefs out of our pockets like they had. Everyone took theirs in hand and when entering the door of the Holy House, they would rub the walls to turn their hanky into a relic. This made me whisper to my neighbor: 'Have the angels forgotten to clean and dust the Holy House?' People kissed the walls, and then, leaving, they scattered in different directions into the small village, looking for a place to eat their picnics. This is the devotion of these humble people, who are content with simple naïve gestures, expressed with so much love and faithfulness. After the Pontifical Mass an air show flew over the Basilica. Isn't the Santa Casa, once brought here by the Angels, not the patron saint of airways? Never mind these demonstrations: what counts for us is to have met these little people in the kingdom of God. They don't argue about authenticity or legend; their faith is sincere and entire.