World Apostolate of Fatima England and Wales
Traditionally, the Church has spoken of herself in three ways: the Church Militant, those of us still struggling and striving here on earth; the Church Suffering, the souls undergoing purification in Purgatory; and the Church Triumphant, the Saints already rejoicing in Heaven. But these aren’t three different Churches. We are one Church, one Body of Christ. Death doesn’t sever the bonds between us. Those who have died haven’t simply disappeared from the Christian family. We are still united to them, still able to help them and, wonderfully, still able to be helped by their prayers.
To understand the concept of the Suffering Church, we first need to understand what the Church is. The word “Church” (Latin ecclesia , from the Greek ek-kalein , “to call out of”) means “an assembly” or “those who are called out and gathered together.” Early Christians adopted this term to describe their community because they understood themselves as the continuation of God’s people gathered by God’s call. The Church is therefore not primarily a building or institution, but a community of believers united in God. The idea of calling together God’s people from all the ends of the earth highlights the universal nature of the Church: people of every nation, culture, and background are invited to belong to God.
The message that does not allow us to remain indifferent I increasingly feel that we live in a world of constant searching. We seek new experiences, fresh inspiration and places that might allow us, if only for a moment, to sense that life has a deeper meaning. We travel, watch, listen and read. We want something more than everyday life, which all too often resembles a well-organised movement without any clear destination. This restless pursuit has not left religion untouched. Spirituality can sometimes seem like a vast marketplace. Different traditions, practices, apparitions, pilgrimages, retreats and experiences are displayed alongside one another. We can reach for whatever interests us, moves us or captures our imagination. We can choose something for a while and then move on. One experience gives way to another; one source of inspiration is replaced by the next. I do not mean that every search is superficial. On the contrary, we search because the human heart cannot be satisfied with what is merely temporary. The problem begins when searching becomes an end in itself: when we collect experiences but do not allow any of them truly to change us; when religion is expected to interest us, but not necessarily to call us to conversion. In such a world, Fatima too can become just one more option. We can travel to Fatima, visit the shrine, light a candle, pray the Rosary, feel moved, take a photograph and return home. We can become interested in the secrets, the prophecies and the history of the apparitions. We may even regard Fatima as particularly beautiful and important, yet still refuse to allow its message to touch the deepest decisions of our lives. And so we come to a question we cannot avoid: Is Fatima simply one religious experience among many, or does it carry a call that must not be reduced to another spiritual attraction? Not another revelation, but a call to respond The Church teaches that private revelations do not complete or improve upon the Revelation given in Jesus Christ. They do not bring another Gospel. Their significance lies in their ability to help the faithful live the Gospel more fully at a particular moment in history. It is in this light that we must understand Fatima. Its uniqueness does not lie in the fact that we have received a new truth previously unknown to us. Nor does it mean that Fatima should replace other forms of prayer, devotion or spiritual life within the Church. Its uniqueness lies in the extraordinary force with which it recalls truths that we may know, yet no longer allow to shape our lives. Fatima does not offer us another Gospel. It reminds us that the Gospel truly concerns our lives. That God is God. That the human person is not an accident. That life has an eternal purpose. That sin is not merely a weakness to be dismissed. That conversion is necessary and possible. That prayer matters. That love may require sacrifice. That our decisions affect more than ourselves. That salvation is not an abstract concept, but a reality in the light of which each of us must make a choice. That is why Fatima cannot be treated merely as an interesting episode in the history of religion. Its message does not simply seek to broaden our knowledge. It seeks to awaken our conscience. A world that has lost its sense of weight The apparitions at Fatima took place in 1917, during the First World War. Europe was experiencing violence, death and the collapse of an established order. Humanity was witnessing how quickly a world that had seemed secure could fall apart. Yet Fatima is not merely a commentary on that war. Its message remains relevant because it touches a deeper problem: human beings can lose their sense that their choices matter. Today, we do not always encounter an outright rejection of God. More often, we hear: “Perhaps”, “One day”, “It depends”, “Let’s not exaggerate”. Not everything is denied. Many things simply lose their definition. Truth becomes one opinion among many, goodness a matter of personal preference, sin an uncomfortable word, and eternity a subject to which we need not return. We may retain our religious habits while gradually losing the conviction that faith calls for a decision. We may pray without allowing prayer to change the way we live. We may speak of mercy while resisting conversion. We may long for consolation while avoiding the truth that must first awaken us. This is what I call blurring : a condition in which a person does not necessarily reject the truth, but ceases to see its clear contours and its weight. Fewer and fewer things seem important enough to demand a decision, a sacrifice or wholehearted commitment. In such a world, Fatima reminds us: not everything is the same; not everything is indifferent. Your life matters. Your choices matter. Your prayer matters. Your response to God matters. Why is Fatima unique? Not because prayer, penance and conversion belong to Fatima alone. Not because other forms of devotion are less valuable. Not because Fatima gives us access to hidden knowledge of the future. Its uniqueness lies in the extraordinary way it brings together several fundamental dimensions of Christian life. First, Fatima reminds us of the reality of sin and the need for conversion. It does not allow us to reduce Christianity to the general conviction that it is good to be a decent person. It calls us to a change of heart, to turn away from evil and return to God. Secondly, it presents prayer as something more than a religious addition to everyday life. Prayer is not merely a way of calming our emotions. It is an encounter with God and the response of a person who recognises that he or she is not self-sufficient. Thirdly, Fatima reminds us of sacrifice and reparation. In a world that often asks above all, “What will I get out of this?”, Fatima poses a more demanding question: “What can I offer out of love?” This is not about seeking suffering, nor about believing that we can save the world by our own efforts. It is about entering into the love of Christ, which cannot remain indifferent to the suffering and sin of others. Fourthly, Fatima restores the communal dimension of responsibility. My spiritual life is not merely a private matter. I can pray for others, offer up my difficulties, support those who have lost their way and accept responsibility for a world I cannot repair on my own. Finally, Fatima leads us through the Immaculate Heart of Mary to Christ. Mary does not keep us focused on herself. Her presence helps us to hear God, accept His will and respond to the love of Jesus. This is not a religious curiosity. It is a way of life. Fatima does not awaken us in order to frighten us We must make this clear: Fatima is not a message of fear. We should not reduce it to catastrophic visions, sensational interpretations of the secrets or endless attempts to predict the future. Its dramatic tone is not intended to paralyse us. It is meant to awaken us. The difference is fundamental. Fear may cause a person to flee, withdraw or begin obsessively searching for threats. Awakening leads to a response: prayer, conversion, responsibility and trust in God. Fatima does not say, “Be afraid of the world.” It says, “Repent.” It does not say, “There is nothing you can do.” It says, “Your prayer and your response matter.” It does not say, “Evil has the final word.” It reminds us that the Christian’s ultimate hope rests in God, not in the power of evil. That is why we must not stop at the drama. We must go on to hope. Fatima and Łagiewniki — awakening and trust It is here that I see a profound connection between Fatima and the message of Divine Mercy. Fatima reminds us of the seriousness of sin, the need for conversion and our responsibility for others. Łagiewniki reminds us that we can return to God because His mercy is greater than sin. Fatima says: Awaken. Łagiewniki says: Do not be afraid to return. Trust. These are not two competing messages. They are two dimensions of one Christian journey. We need to see the truth about our lives, but we also need to discover that this truth does not lead to despair. It leads us to Christ, who forgives, raises us up and gives us hope. We might say: Fatima awakens us, Łagiewniki teaches us to trust, and Christ saves us. From religious experience to a transformed life Let us return to where we began: the religious marketplace. The point is not to stop searching. It is to avoid becoming trapped in the search itself. Nor is it about rejecting spiritual experiences, pilgrimages or devotions. It is about asking whether they lead us further. After prayer, do I become more able to forgive? After a pilgrimage, am I more willing to turn my life around? After hearing a message, can I make a concrete decision? Does my devotion help me to love God and others more generously? If not, I may accumulate many religious experiences and still remain exactly where I was. Fatima does not want to be another stop on the route of our spiritual searching. It wants to become a call that changes the direction of our journey. Its uniqueness, therefore, does not lie in being one more attractive religious option. It lies in reminding us of what matters most — and refusing to let us treat it as something of no consequence. Fatima is not another piece of information to be acquired. It is a call that demands a response. It is not enough to visit the shrine. We must allow its message to touch our conscience. It is not enough to pray the Rosary. We must allow prayer to lead us to conversion. It is not enough to speak of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. We must allow Mary to lead us to Jesus. And it is not enough to be moved by Fatima. We must ask what we need to change in our lives today. Perhaps this is what we need most: not another religious experience, but the recovery of our ability to see that our lives have weight, direction and an eternal purpose. Fatima awakens us. Łagiewniki teaches us to trust. Mary leads us to Jesus. And Christ opens before us the way of hope. Father Marcin Budzinski a C atholic priest, born in Poznań, in western Poland, in 1980. A physicist and biologist by training, and a teacher by passion; he graduated from the Archdiocesan Seminary in 2012 and was ordained for the Archdiocese of Poznań; his main academic interests are the natural sciences and philosophy, on which he wrote his master’s thesis; he worked mainly in secondary schools with young people, whom he evangelised through theatre; his dream was to work abroad; for the past three years he has been working with the Polish Catholic Mission in England and Wales; he is dean of the north-western deanery of the Polish Catholic Mission and parish priest in Lancaster; he is deeply devoted to Our Lady of Fátima and to the devotion to Divine Mercy
