A Mountaintop Encounter with Love by Bridget Mary Meehan ARCWP

View of Mountains at Montserrat, Spain

Last Monday, September 22, I joined an excursion to Montserrat Monastery, the Benedictine Abbey nestled among the jagged peaks of Catalonia. For centuries, pilgrims have journeyed to this sacred place to venerate the Black Madonna, a figure of mystery and hope whose dark face carries the prayers of countless generations.

I traveled with my companions—Mary Theresa, Sandy, and Joan, who moved in a wheelchair. As we gazed at the stunning serrated mountains, they seemed like natural cathedrals pointing upward, reminding us that every climb is a symbol of the human spirit reaching for God.

When our guide told Joan she would not be able to reach the Black Madonna because of the steps, disappointment fell upon us. How often in life do barriers stand between the excluded and the holy? And yet, when we approached, the monastery officials removed the rope and opened a new path. They even helped Joan up a few steps so she could pray before the Madonna.

In that moment , I thought of Jesus himself—how he reached out to those pushed aside: the leper, the blind, the woman bent double, the Samaritan woman at the well. He always found a way to restore dignity, to bring those left on the margins into the heart of God’s embrace. The kindness shown to Joan was not only hospitality; it was Gospel action, a living parable of God’s reign where all are welcome.

When my own turn came, I had only a heartbeat before the Black Madonna. My prayer was simple: “I love you.” And in the silence of my heart, I heard her response: “I love you.” In that brief exchange, heaven touched earth. I felt the joy of God’s infinite love, flowing into me, reminding me of the truth Saint Paul proclaims: “Nothing can separate us from the love of God” (Romans 8:39).

It was a moment like the mountaintop of the Transfiguration, when the disciples glimpsed the radiant Christ. Peter longed to stay and build a tent, just as I longed to linger in that joy. Yet like the disciples, I was called back down the mountain, carrying the vision in my heart to sustain me on the journey.

As I reflected later, I thought of Mary’s Magnificat:

“My soul magnifies the Holy One,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…

God has lifted up the lowly.” (Luke 1:46–55)

The Black Madonna, venerated in many lands, is herself a song of God’s lifting up the lowly. Her dark face mirrors the suffering and beauty of humanity. She speaks especially to those who have been marginalized or forgotten, saying, “You are loved. You belong. You are part of God’s story.”

What I experienced in that instant before the Madonna was more than personal consolation. It was a call. To live in Love and nothing else. To remember that the God who whispered, “I love you,” whispers the same to every person I meet. That awareness changes how we look at one another. It transforms barriers into open doors, strangers into kin, and the Eucharist into a feast of radical belonging.

Montserrat was a mountaintop for me. But every table where bread is broken, every act of inclusion, every whisper of love in our hearts can become a Montserrat moment. The voice of God keeps echoing: “I love you.” And our only response, the only one that matters, is to live our lives saying back, “I love you.”