Miracles

The only reason I studied Latin more intensively than most of my English schoolfellows was that, in those days, (thankfully no longer) one of the requirements for a student wishing to be admitted to either of the two prestigious British Universities – Oxford or Cambridge – was an ability to pass an examination in Latin. But even that was no guarantee, and I was one of those who never made it past the also-mandatory “interview” by a panel of professors.

Nevertheless, for what it was worth, I had at least acquired some knowledge of Latin. And one of the expressions that has stuck with me from that part of my education was, “mirabile dictu,” which means “wonderful to relate.” Those words were often used to introduce an account of some happening that we would classify as miraculous.

So, what is a miracle? I would say it’s some good happening that, before it occurred, seemed impossible. The term has come to be more loosely used to refer to very unlikely events – but always beneficial.

Having studied some recent History, I could tell you of two military events which have been referred to (by the winning side) as miracles. One occurred in 1914, in the early stages of World War I, when a well-planned advance by the German Army made it appear likely that they would soon take Paris, which was only 25 miles away. French resistance took shape along the valley of the Marne River and was successful in turning the invaders back. And although the War went on for four more years, Paris was never again in such danger, and its rescue became known as the “Miracle of the Marne.”

(Incidentally, one sidelight of this dramatic conflict was that troops were needed so urgently that Paris taxicabs and their drivers were recruited to help move reinforcements up to the front.)

The other event occurred in the Second World War, in 1940. I was only six years old, and safe in my mother’s hometown of Toronto. But this time, the Germans had already defeated France, and occupied Paris – and were advancing on the French Channel coast, from which their next step would be an invasion of my own home country of England.

There had been a British Army in France, and its morale was very high. (I still sing their song about the German defenses which were known as the Siegfried Line: “We’re Going to Hang Out the Washing on the Siegfried Line.”)

But the Nazi advance was so swift and powerful (they called it a “Blitzkrieg,” meaning “Lightning War”), the British were forced to retreat all the way to the Channel ports, mainly one called Dunkirk. There, they were in exposed positions on the beach, and their only hope was to get evacuated by sea.

The British Government urged every seagoing craft capable of making the 20-mile Channel crossing to go over and help bring the troops back to safety. What followed has become almost legendary: a whole fleet, comprised mostly of small pleasure craft, sailed over to the French coast to rescue the stranded British soldiery.

Considering how unlikely any successful outcome of this improvised evacuation would be, it was quite remarkable that the entire British Army was brought back safely to England before the German Juggernaut swept over the French coast. To the English this phenomenal rescue soon became known as “The Miracle of Dunkirk.”

But in more religious terms, especially in the Catholic Church, a miracle can be performed only by a saint, who can be recognized as such only by the Pope and the College of Cardinals. The process can be a lengthy one, and can take the form of a trial, in which those opposed to this particular canonization can be represented by a Church official designated as the “Devil’s Advocate,” whose role it is to examine the entire past of this particular candidate and find any flaws in His or Her character which might disqualify them from assuming such eminence as sainthood.

For better or worse, the achievements of modern science and technology would have appeared miraculous to people living only a few generations ago. To that extent, we ourselves are capable of performing miracles in our daily lives – from traversing land, sea, air, and space in self-propelled vehicles, to removing and replacing parts of our own bodies.

My own contribution to this discussion was slightly satirical: “Considering how many things can possibly go wrong, it’s a miracle that anything ever goes right.”