Perhaps many are puzzled by the popular phrase “strong prayer.” What does this even mean? A prayer of a righteous person? A plea addressed to a specific saint blessed with the grace to help in certain situations? A prayer made at the limits of one’s emotional strength? Or something else entirely? Here, we will recount a prayer that some might not even consider “strong.” Yet, it led to one of the most famous healings of the 20th century.
Édith Piaf, nicknamed “The Sparrow of Paris” (piaf means “sparrow”), became arguably the most famous French chanson singer by the mid-20th century. Her parents were Louis Gassion, an acrobat, and a failed actress who abandoned him before their daughter’s birth. “Louis, it’s over between us. I left the baby with my mother. Don’t look for me when you return,” read the letter he received while on the front lines during World War I. On a leave to Paris in 1917, Louis met his two-year-old daughter for the first time, living in squalid conditions with her maternal grandparents—chronic alcoholics. Taking the girl with him, he brought her to his hometown in Normandy to his mother, Louise, who worked as a cook for her cousin Marie, the owner of a "house”—a euphemism for a brothel.
Once Édith was cleaned up, she turned out to be a lovely child, quickly adored by everyone, including the women working in the brothel. However, there was one peculiarity about her: the girl walked, bumping into objects. It soon became clear that she was completely blind. Keratitis developed during her first months of life under unsanitary conditions, leading to total vision loss. Louise took Édith to Lisieux to see a doctor, who treated her with silver nitrate. While painful, the treatment proved ineffective. Eventually, the doctor admitted there was little hope for recovery.
The women at the brothel, deeply attached to the little girl, suggested taking Édith to Saint Thérèse of Lisieux instead of the doctor. “If she can make it rain roses, why wouldn’t she perform a miracle for our little one?” they reasoned. Madame Marie agreed and vowed to donate 10,000 francs—an enormous sum in the early 1920s—to the Church if Édith recovered by Saint Louis’ feast day.
Saint Thérèse of Lisieux deserves special mention. Born in 1873, she lost her mother early and suffered a severe illness. On the brink of death, but unexpectedly recovering, nine-year-old Thérèse realized her life’s dream: to become a Carmelite nun. Despite facing repeated rejections due to her young age, even after an audience with the Pope, her persistence eventually led to her acceptance into the convent, where she joyfully dedicated herself to serving God. Seven years after entering, Thérèse developed tuberculosis. During her final years, she wrote her autobiography and passed away in 1897 at the age of 24.
Thérèse’s book, Story of a Soul, published in a modest 2,000-copy print run, achieved astounding success. Her “Little Way” proposed achieving holiness through small daily acts of kindness toward others. “The only way to prove my love is to scatter flowers—small sacrifices like every glance, word, and seemingly insignificant act performed for love,” she wrote.
Translated into nearly every European language, Story of a Soul inspired theologians and laypeople alike. Pope Pius X called her “the greatest saint of modern times,” and she was canonized in 1925 by Pope Pius XI. The flood of pilgrims to her tomb led to the construction of a grand basilica in her honor in Lisieux. It was there that six-year-old Édith, her grandmother Louise, Madame Marie, and the women from the brothel headed on a festive summer day.
They spent nearly the entire day at the Basilica of Saint Thérèse, attending Mass, a special service, and lighting candles while praying for little Édith’s healing. Exhausted but hopeful, they returned to Bernay that evening. For ten days, until Saint Louis’ feast day, they waited for a miracle. On the feast day evening, Louise, Marie, and the women heard piano music coming from the parlor. Rushing in, they saw Édith sitting at the piano, plucking out “By the Light of the Moon” with one finger. “Go to bed,” they urged. “No! What I see is so beautiful!” she replied. “You see, my joy?” whispered Louise. The girl could see. The first thing she saw in her conscious life was piano keys. Saint Thérèse of Lisieux had heard the prayer and answered it.
Over the next forty years, Édith Piaf experienced much: rejection by schoolmates from “respectable” families, street performances with her father, where she sang while he performed acrobatics, and eventual national and international acclaim as a singer and actress. Despite facing slander, illness, years of obscurity, and the deaths of loved ones, she always remembered the miracle that brought light into her world, prayed for by her grandmother and the women of a brothel.
Can the prayers of Édith’s grandmother and the women of the brothel be considered “strong,” given their profession? Regardless, their heartfelt plea was heard. Ultimately, we cannot know what matters more to God—the weight of our sins or the sincerity of our hearts and the ability to pray for others as fervently as for ourselves. As long as we live, everyone—righteous or sinful—has the opportunity to turn to God in prayer and hope to hear, like the bleeding woman who touched His garment in faith, the words: “Daughter, your faith has healed you; go in peace and be freed from your suffering” (Mark 5:34).
V. Sergienko
