ShinsungHwa: The Visualization of Saint Bernadette of Lourdes’s Spiritual Energy (2020)
A Commentary on ShinsungHwa: Saint Bernadette of Lourdes(Marie-Bernarde Soubirous)
An inverted heptagon manifested in her spiritual core.
The number seven has long carried a sense of threshold—of stepping just beyond the material into the realm of spirit. Unlike other numbers, it resists being neatly folded into patterns of multiplication or division. It won’t break down evenly, and it won’t produce offspring within the simple sequence of one to ten. Because of this, some have called it a “virgin number,” untouched, whole, and unyielding.
The heptagon, born of seven, inherits this character. In numerology, it is tied to both connection and separation. There’s a peculiar balance here: the product of the numbers one through seven is identical to that of seven through ten. Likewise, the product of one through six matches that of eight through ten. These mathematical coincidences place seven in a liminal space—bridging, but also dividing.
Unlike other familiar shapes, the regular heptagon cannot be drawn from the womb of the vesica piscis, that ancient form thought to give rise to circles and polygons. It stands apart, difficult to summon by traditional geometric methods, and perhaps that is part of its mystery.
When a reversed heptagon appeared at the spiritual core of Marie-Bernarde Soubirous(Saint Bernadette) in her ShinsungHwa, it seemed to carry this dual nature: grounded in matter, yet pointing toward the continuity and break of spiritual life. It suggested a striving for purity, for wholeness, for the delicate balance between endurance and release. In this way, the heptagon becomes more than a figure—it becomes a symbol of how spirit weaves itself through the tangible, choosing sometimes to join, sometimes to part, but always to remain unbroken.
Let’s look at the second ShinsungHwa.
Around her figure, a square encloses everything.
The square often carries the meaning of materialization, of things taking concrete form. Because the material world is heavier than the spiritual, the square can sometimes be read as confinement, a closing-in of possibilities. Yet when it rests at the ground, it stands for the solid base of matter, the foundation we step on without thinking.
In her ShinsungHwa, the fact that the square surrounds the whole image seems less accidental and more like part of a given plan. It brings to mind the story told of the apparition that appeared to Saint Bernadette in her grotto. “I cannot promise you happiness in this world,” the figure said, “but in the next, you shall find it.”
A Simple Beginning
Marie-Bernarde Soubirous, later known as Bernadette of Lourdes, was born in 1844 in a small town at the foot of the French Pyrenees. Her family lived in one damp, drafty room of an old mill. The walls never dried, the wind slipped through cracks, and meals were little more than bread and soup.
She was the first of nine children. Her father struggled to keep the mill running, but business collapsed. Her mother took in laundry to earn a few coins. Hunger was constant, and young Bernadette, often sick with asthma and other illnesses, grew up frail.
Even so, she was remembered as cheerful. She was not quick at school, but she was gentle, kind, and rarely complained despite her hardships.
The Grotto
In 1858, when Bernadette was fourteen, everything shifted. One cold February day, she went with her sister and a friend to gather firewood near a rocky grotto called Massabielle. While the others scrambled ahead, Bernadette lagged behind, short of breath. That was when she saw something.
She later described it as “a small young lady,” dressed in white with a blue sash and a yellow rose at her feet. To her, this figure was no dream—it was real.
Over the next five months, Bernadette returned to the grotto eighteen times. During one visit, the lady told her to drink from a spring. At first, there was only mud, but as Bernadette dug with her hands, clear water began to flow. It has never stopped since.
The visions divided the town. Some believed, others mocked. Officials called her a liar. Priests tested her story. Even her family begged her to keep quiet, fearing ridicule. But Bernadette repeated the same account, plain and steady, never changing the details.
At last, the lady gave a name: “I am the Immaculate Conception.” Bernadette had no idea what this meant. Yet church leaders knew it was remarkable—this doctrine had only recently been declared, and Bernadette, who could barely read, could not have invented it herself.
A Divided Town
Crowds soon gathered at the grotto. Some sought cures in the spring water; others came out of curiosity. Authorities tried to block the site. Doctors examined Bernadette for signs of illness or delusion.
She was never proved false, though not everyone was convinced either. To many, she remained both ordinary and extraordinary—a frail miller’s daughter who claimed to see the Virgin Mary.
A New Life
Bernadette’s fame spread quickly, but she herself avoided the spotlight. At twenty-two, she joined a convent in Nevers. There she lived quietly, working in the infirmary. She was not treated as special—some nuns even resented the attention she drew. Bernadette herself dismissed it, once saying, “The Virgin chose me because I was the most ignorant.”
Her health worsened. Tuberculosis left her in great pain, but she bore it with patience. She disliked pity and never asked for miracles for herself.
On April 16, 1879, at the age of thirty-five, she died. Her last words were: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for me, a poor sinner.”
After Death
Years later, when her body was exhumed during the canonization process, it was found remarkably well-preserved—likely helped by the conditions of her tomb. Today, her body rests in a glass coffin in Nevers, where visitors still come to see her.
In 1933, she was canonized as Saint Bernadette. By then, Lourdes had become one of the most visited pilgrimage sites in the world.
Questions and Doubts
As with any story of visions and faith, doubts remain. Skeptics point out that mass visions often arise in hard times, when people long for hope. Lourdes in the 1850s was poor and weary; perhaps the story of a healing spring was too powerful to resist.
Some suggest Bernadette’s fragile health made her prone to visions. Illness and stress can cause hallucinations. And while thousands have claimed healing at Lourdes, science has confirmed only a handful as unexplained.
Yet belief or not, one fact is clear: a sickly teenager from a forgotten town changed it forever. Lourdes is now known worldwide, and at the center of it all remains Bernadette.
The Human Side
What keeps her story alive is not only the visions but her humanity. She was not flawless or celebrated in her lifetime. She was poor, uneducated, often ill, and sometimes stubborn. She knew hunger, weakness, and the sting of being called slow.
And still, she held to her story with quiet persistence. That, perhaps, is what makes her unforgettable—whether one accepts her visions or not.
Today in Lourdes, rosary shops line the streets. Pilgrims kneel at the grotto, touch the cool stone, and drink from the spring. Some hope for healing; others simply want to be close to something sacred.
At the center of it all remains the memory of Bernadette—the girl in wooden shoes, coughing from asthma, gathering sticks by the river, who said she saw a lady in white.
Her life reminds us that even the most ordinary stories, marked by poverty and struggle, can hold moments of extraordinary wonder.
