Lorraine, Land of Joan of Arc: June 11-15, 2007

My pilgrimage to the home lands of Joan of Arc fulfilled more than thirty years of longing. I have a vivid memory of the house of Jacques and Isabelle d’Arc and the remnants of a small bronze figurine that I bought there for my Grandpa Steele. I have no recollection of the circumstances, whether with the group of IU Honors students in 1969 or with Christine hitchhiking to St. Dizier in 1972.

When Grandpa Steele died years later, she moved to my desk at school where she quietly inspired me. One day she was once again brutally mistreated. I found her head on my desk and her body in the top drawer, victim of a vicious student vandal who quite correctly thought this a means to utterly devastate me.

The desire to once again place Joan whole before me as I work increased my desire to revisit her home. So did the annual study of her time in history by means of the CBS mini-series of her life. Unfortunately, la Lorraine is far from the usual track of student tours. This summer’s grant with my month of June wanderings gave me at last the perfect opportunity to revisit the home of the Maid of Lorraine.

As my first school year at Clay Middle School drew to a close, I pondered how to end the year with youngsters eager for vacation and mentally finished with school work. I realized with delight that the feast day of Joan of Arc fell on the last days of school, May 30. I chose two short segments of the film, the battle of Orleans and the trial and victorious death of France’s patron saint. The students enjoyed fresh fruit and petits gateaux français and trying on my chainmail shirt and cap, then watched the film. I reminded them that this was a true story, that Joan’s words were carefully transcribed, that I was soon going to visit her home, and the reality of history and our connection to it showed in their faces.

The ironic juxtaposition of my pilgrimage to the home of humble villagers and my lodging as a bed and breakfast guest in the 18th century Château d’Autigny-la-Tour struck me more than once. My suite of rooms with the spacious dining room and elegant stone staircase made of me a Duchesse, a Comtesse of noble proportions.



Walking through the d’Arc home, carefully preserved first by her family then by the state, then worshipping in an evening Mass in the parish church of St. Rémy, following the winding path into the hills and climbing the woodland trail to the hermitage of Notre Dame de Bermont where Joan sought solitude and prayer, I immersed myself in the land that taught young Jeanne to listen.



That lesson is the heart of her inspiration for me, I think. By nature, and by my father’s example, I have learned to be ready to jump into action at the first sign of need. My fault has been to remember to be attentive, to the voices of nature, of family, of friends, colleagues, students, and to the heavenly voices that so quietly offer guidance and inspiration.

My three days in Lorraine encompassed visits to the wonderful town of Neufchâteau, to the Roman arena and mosaic ruins at Grand, to the church of St. Elophe, and to the site of the former village of Greux, as well as hours of contemplation and repose in the extensive garden and woodland of the Château.

The moments of solitude on a bench deep in the whispering woods before the chapel of Notre Dame de Bermont felt as profoundly spiritual as the Mass sitting before St. Margaret’s solemn gaze, as the child Joan sat so many hundreds of years ago, listening to the voices of heaven. May we all listen to those voices and act confidently as our hearts are led.