On being under the rock

By Matthew Woolford

It took me years to understand the connection between the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and the dynamic role they play in my ongoing spiritual formation.

When I was at Western Boys’ RC School, I had to decide which secondary school to list as my first choice for the Common Entrance Examination. I vacillated between Queen’s Royal College, an institution which I still admire today for producing  great minds such as VS Naipaul, Lloyd Best and Dr Eric Williams, and St Mary’s College, a school that spoke to my heart with reassuring calmness.

When the results were released, I passed for St Mary’s College, dedicated to the Immaculate Conception of Mary. Years later, when Western Boys’ RC was rebuilt, it was re-dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

To this day, these two Hearts continue to play an irreplaceable role in my search for truth, meaning and happiness. In 2023, they led me to visit the Basilica of Sacre Coeur on Montmartre, Paris, and in 2025, they led me to the south of France to the pilgrimage site of Lourdes, where, in 1858, the Virgin Mary declared to Saint Bernadette Soubirous—and to the world—“I am the Immaculate Conception.”

I sometimes reflect on how God, laughingly, continues to play these tricks on me, allowing me to believe that I somehow have control over my life, when, in fact, He has already prepared His plans for me in it.

The Grotto Experience

I have never been to a place  where  truth is seemingly inescapable. To touch the rock as you walk beneath it is to have the deepest secrets of your heart exposed. I found myself remembering people whose impact on my life was subtle yet sincere—family members, colleagues and acquaintances—each of whom sewed a stitch or a patch into the fabric of my life.

I also remembered those who may have hurt me, including in the workplace, where promises are often made for self-aggrandisement rather than for the benefit of the community we are called to serve.

I walked under the rock, knelt under the rock, and  prayed under the rock. But these were no ordinary prayers. They were not mere words spoken to God by man. They felt more like words spoken to God (possibly the Father), by God (possibly the Son), carried on the Wings of God (possibly the Holy Spirit)—passing through me.

Under the rock, man is merely a silent observer. As St Paul writes in Romans 8:26-27, “In the same way, the Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what the intention of the Spirit is, because it intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will.”

By no stretch of my own imagination do I consider myself holy, but this experience has deepened my understanding of God’s unfathomable love and mercy.

In The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran wrote, ‘When you love you should not say, ‘God is in my heart,’ but rather, ‘I am in the heart of God.’ And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.’

This love is certainly transforming my life, taking me beyond the notion of self-love, and into the realm of self-forgiveness. I have made many mistakes in my life, and God willing, I shall have the opportunity to make many more.

After all, this is one of the prodigious ways in which we grow. I am learning that I do not have to justify every decision I make, and I certainly do not have to participate in decisions that have passed their expiration date.

Accurately or not, Saint Augustine has been credited with writing, “Please God, make me good, but not just yet.” To be honest, that prayer is at the forefront of my heart—because on some level, I know that doing God’s will is difficult.

At many Masses at the community of Sacred Heart, Port of Spain, I’ve heard Frs Michael Cockburn and Emmanuel Dafe explain the connection between the Greek interpretation of love and the dialogue between Jesus and Peter in John 21:15-19, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?”

I may not yet have reached the self-depreciating heights of Agape love, but possibly on the level of Storge—natural, familial affection— I am confident that I am growing in care for myself and for others.