A parishioner admires the new statute of Our Lady of Mount Carmel at Saint Agnes Parish in Phoenix, Arizona.

Life still surprises. More than a year ago, a stranger came to Saint Agnes. He was from another parish. He stopped at Saint Agnes because the marquis outside the church said: “Served by Carmelite Friars.” More than thirty years ago, he made a promise to the Mother of God that he would donate a statue of Our Lady of Mount Carmel to his parish church. One day, his pastor announced plans to build a shrine for Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The man understood the announcement as a moment to fulfill his promise. He met with the pastor. Both made a verbal agreement that John would buy the statue. Unfortunately, the agreement was forgotten. Some other parishioners ended up buying the statue. John was crushed. He needed to vent his frustrations. Who better to hear his tale of woe than a Carmelite Friar?

As I listened to John’s story, I began to identify with his dream. Every since I came to Saint Agnes, I too dreamed of a large statue of our Lady of Mount Carmel. It all seemed an impossible dream. We could not afford such a statue. There were other needs that seemed more important.

When John finished his story, I shared with him my own dream. I suggested that his visit to Saint Agnes was no accident. Somehow God brought two dreamers together so that Our Lady of Mount Carmel could find a place of honor and devotion. I showed John the alcove in the church where I hoped my own dream would materialize. John was delighted and excited. Within a week or two, he gave me a check for ten thousand dollars and told me to order the statue. I made all the arrangements and ordered the statue. It must have taken a full year to carve since a year later a huge crate arrived from Italy addressed to the parish. She had arrived at last.

We opened the crate. The statue far exceeded my expectations. I was immediately struck by the beauty of her face and the depth in her eyes and all the details of the hand-carved wood. I set the statue in a corner of the sacristy, imagining how the statue would be treasured by the people of this parish. Then I took a break and returned to the priory for some lunch.

We Carmelites have a long history of a mysterious and wonderful experience of Mary. We experienced her as our Sister, and ourselves as her favored brothers. Esto propitia! “Be Generous to us” are the words of a hymn we sing to Mary. The origins of that experience took place at a time when rationality was not the way we explained what we knew and felt. We were more comfortable with what was revealed in imagination, dreams, visions, myths, and sheer wonder. We were comfortable believing “in all things visible and invisible.” We could describe our Sister as the flower of Carmel, a fruitful vine, the splendor of heaven, a child-bearing virgin, unsurpassed among women, the star of our sea.

Perhaps we need to recover some of those ancient ways. In so doing, we might find a deepening of those early experiences that gave Carmel its riches and all its saints and scholars. I share these thoughts with you because of a recent experience.

After lunch that day, I quite innocently returned to the sacristy to gaze at the statue. I was wondering what the statue might look like and feel like for our people as they would kneel and pray at the feet of Mary. So, I knelt down and looked into the face of Mary. And she spoke to me! “Peter, my brother, this is why I called you here to Saint Agnes. You have accomplished the task I gave you. Go now in peace.” I am a child of this age. I am not used to such religious happenings. I wept at her visitation. Now I see why we call Mary our Sister in Carmel.

On July 16, 2007, we dedicated the statue. The principle celebration began with a procession and the chanting of the Litany of Our Lady in Spanish and English. There were clouds of incense. Third Order Carmelites and Los Guadelupanos carried candles. I carried a pillow which bore two flower crowns. The directress of the Third Order, Joan Gore, crowned our Lady. Joel Navarrete, a young Hispanic man, crowned the Infant Jesus. The full church broke out in spontaneous applause. We proceeded to the altar for Mass, singing the Lourdes Hymn. At the end of Mass, the bells of Saint Agnes peeled out our joy and thanks all over our community.