"How would you feel about me turning my thesis on pilgrimage into a blog?" This was the question that I posed to my degree advisor at the beginning of this year, to her surprise. I knew that blogging was an unconventional medium for an academic presentation, but I also knew that it would allow me to explore the concept of pilgrimage in ways that would be impossible within a paper format. Academic papers assume that you know all the answers; they are a polemic, not a discussion. When I started my project, however, I knew that I didn't have all the answers; what I had were a lot of questions. That is why I proposed the blog. It was a way for me to present my findings in a way that invited dialogue. It was also a forum where I could discuss my ideas with a public audience, so that I could be challenged in my own assumptions and learn more through the wisdom, experience and questions of others. This blog is still academic, but it is also a platform for a greater learning experience that can only come through discussion and not just research.
Blogging this thesis has been a journey of its own for me. When I wrote my first entry I admitted that I had no idea about what pilgrimage was. I remember how excited I felt when I first realized that the common thread to pilgrimage in all traditions was the search for the transcendent. Every entry I have written along the way has both challenged and informed me in some way, as I'm sure my conclusion has proven. I also really appreciated those who took the time to provide comments and feedback on my work along the way. They forced me to think outside the box of what I had presented and really utilize what I have learned. They brought up some really thoughtful and poignant points, and I am grateful that they chose to participate in this journey with me.
There was another reason why I really wanted to do this blog: I wanted it to be a platform for an ongoing learning experience that would continue even after I handed in the "official" part of my thesis. Now that I have done research on what pilgrimage is, I want to be able to learn about it first hand through its physical practice. This May I am going to take a small pilgrimage in the form of a road trip to Vancouver. One day I hope to take a pilgrimage across the whole of Canada, provided I can scrape together enough time, money and maybe a companion or two. When I go on these journeys, I hope to be able to blog about them here so that I can explore the experiences in the context of my research. I'm sure that doing pilgrimage is a lot different than writing about it based off of others experiences, and that there is a lot more that I have to learn about this discipline than what I have presented here thus far.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Learning From Pilgrimage
A couple of years ago I decided I wanted to go on a pilgrimage back to my hometown of B.C. Although I often took vacations back to my hometown throughout the year to visit family and friends, I was determined that this trip would be different. Instead of just going to visit friends, I was going with a desire to meet God in the thin places that had been formational to my life in my childhood. I would go visit that park by the river and sit on the rocks as I had done in my teenage years. I would go to the lake where my family used to camp as a child and walk around the trails there. I would hike up the mountain by the lake to the look-out where I had hiked with my father a few years back. I would make a point of visiting every place that my soul recognized as holy. Along the way I would pray, and when I reached my destinations, I would take the time to journal. I didn't know what I expected out of this pilgrimage, but inwardly I hoped to experience a sense of divine clarity as I explored my sacred places.
The pilgrimage I took was a bit disappointing for me at first. I experienced no great revelation that provided instant transformation. I had no overwhelming encounter with God that revolutionized my life on the spot. The trip was not something that directed me towards a dramatic change. And yet, something did change with that trip. It was my first time visiting home where I had truly felt at home. It was the first time in years that I had experienced such a sense of peace and belonging in my natural landscape. The connection that I felt with both myself and with God on that journey left a lingering affect on my soul and I realized that never again did I want to visit home with my old frame of mind that was always so caught up in distraction. I wanted my journeys in the future to be just as intentional in seeking out the presence of God. Arthur Boers writes in "Walking Lessons" that "authentic pilgrimage bears fruit when we return home" (24). I think that this is true. Pilgrimage is not something that will necessarily bring a dramatic shift in our lives, but it does bring about change in small, subtle ways that form us as people.
When I started this blog I announced my intention of using the research that I provided as a launching pad for my own experience of pilgrimage. I hoped that by exploring the spiritual discipline of pilgrimage, I might have a better idea of how to approach the practice in the future. I admit, I have learned a lot:
The pilgrimage I took was a bit disappointing for me at first. I experienced no great revelation that provided instant transformation. I had no overwhelming encounter with God that revolutionized my life on the spot. The trip was not something that directed me towards a dramatic change. And yet, something did change with that trip. It was my first time visiting home where I had truly felt at home. It was the first time in years that I had experienced such a sense of peace and belonging in my natural landscape. The connection that I felt with both myself and with God on that journey left a lingering affect on my soul and I realized that never again did I want to visit home with my old frame of mind that was always so caught up in distraction. I wanted my journeys in the future to be just as intentional in seeking out the presence of God. Arthur Boers writes in "Walking Lessons" that "authentic pilgrimage bears fruit when we return home" (24). I think that this is true. Pilgrimage is not something that will necessarily bring a dramatic shift in our lives, but it does bring about change in small, subtle ways that form us as people.
When I started this blog I announced my intention of using the research that I provided as a launching pad for my own experience of pilgrimage. I hoped that by exploring the spiritual discipline of pilgrimage, I might have a better idea of how to approach the practice in the future. I admit, I have learned a lot:
- I have learned about how pilgrimage differs from tourism; that it isn't where you go but the attitude that you go with that counts. I also learned, however, that pilgrimage and tourism can often happen side by side; that if we remain open to an encounter with God on the journey, He can co-opt control and meet us in any place.
- I have learned that pilgrimage exists in many different forms for many different reasons. Every great religion in the world has developed the practice of pilgrimage to some sense. Regardless of the differences, however, the ultimate purpose of pilgrimage remains constant: we journey so that we might come into contact with the transcendent - with that which is greater than ourselves, or the One who is greater than us all.
- I have learned that practice of pilgrimage is an outward journey that mirrors an inward journey. It requires purgation, a cleansing of the soul, but it also offers a path towards illumination and union with God. It requires sacrifice but it also can guide us towards fulfillment.
- I have learned that pilgrimage invites us to engage in other spiritual disciplines. Silence, solitude and prayer are but a few of the disciplines that are often naturally experienced along the journey. Pilgrimage does not force us to schedule these disciplines into our lives; rather, it provides the space for these disciplines to interact organically with our journey and with our lives.
- I have learned about the value of walking through the pilgrimage. Walking gives our souls time to process the journey. It gives us time to engage with God. It slows us down so that we can breathe and experience the sense of quiet and solitude that our souls need to heal and be transformed. Walking can be prayer.
- I have learned that pilgrimage gives value to the natural world. It is one of the few rare spiritual disciplines that requires contact with the tangible in order to connect us to that which is intangible. It immerses us into the reality of God as He is experienced in Creation. Pilgrimage is a discipline that is not for the gnostic - it cannot be separated from the material. Rather, it is the physical world that connects us with that which is spiritual.
- I have learned that pilgrimage is not a discipline that is easily undertaken alone. Meaning is added to the experience when we engage in the practice of pilgrimage as a community. There are many aspects of community that may be experienced upon the road: we may experience community with those who have gone before us; we may experience community with those who travel with us; or we may experience community with the strangers that we meet along the way. Pilgrimage is a discipline that only gives us the space to connect with ourselves and with God, but also with our fellow man.
- I have learned about the prominent presence of pilgrimage in Scripture. Sacred travel is not something that should be alien to my Christian experience. Rather, it has been formational to the development of my religion. If it has been practiced by those such as Abraham and Jesus, how much more should I seek out opportunities for sacred journey in my own life?
Monday, April 11, 2011
Thin Places
When I was younger and lived in my hometown in B.C. I would often flee to a local park whenever I needed time to think, pray and catch a sense of God. This park was located beside a river, and it had a small beach where the fine sand quickly gave way to behemoth rocks that were smoothed down from centuries of rushing water. I would climb up onto the dry rocks until I reached a secluded place. Sometimes I would journal there; at other times I would read; and still at other times I would cry or pray. Whatever my choice of activity, however, those rocks were a place where I always met God. They were a thin place where the spiritual realm seemed much more closer and accessible than it normally was - where the haze that usually obstructed my vision was lifted so I could see with a bit more clarity the closeness of God.
Thin places are places that are touched by the presence of God. They are locations "where the membrane between this world and the other world, between the material and the spiritual, [is] very permeable" (Sheldrake, 7). They are sacred spaces that function as gateways, or peepholes, into the spiritual realm, where God is revealed to us "as both transcendent and immanent, beyond us and within us" (Hamma, 46). They are places of inward formation. The landscape guides us to an experience of the holy and leaves an impression on our souls.
A pilgrimage is a journey that is always connected to a material sense of place. Every step of the journey happens in the physical world and has spiritual implications. We encounter God within the natural landscape of our journey. God's presence is revealed through the beauty and structure of his wonderful creation. Pilgrimage is a ritual that helps us discover sacred dimension of place (Hamma, 46):
The Bible is full of a sense of place. It tells a story that takes place in the context of Earthly locations where God's presence was revealed, changing the course of history. Jacob's story from Genesis 28:10-17 is a beautiful example of a sacred encounter with God in a thin place.
Thin places are places that are touched by the presence of God. They are locations "where the membrane between this world and the other world, between the material and the spiritual, [is] very permeable" (Sheldrake, 7). They are sacred spaces that function as gateways, or peepholes, into the spiritual realm, where God is revealed to us "as both transcendent and immanent, beyond us and within us" (Hamma, 46). They are places of inward formation. The landscape guides us to an experience of the holy and leaves an impression on our souls.
A pilgrimage is a journey that is always connected to a material sense of place. Every step of the journey happens in the physical world and has spiritual implications. We encounter God within the natural landscape of our journey. God's presence is revealed through the beauty and structure of his wonderful creation. Pilgrimage is a ritual that helps us discover sacred dimension of place (Hamma, 46):
- It prepares us to enter places that have already been recognized by others as being holy
- It leads us to discover and mark out other holy places that are formative to our own lives
- It engages us in the practice of awareness towards the holiness of place. It puts us in a frame of mind where we are more open and receptive to the sensation of the workings of God's Holy Spirit.
The Bible is full of a sense of place. It tells a story that takes place in the context of Earthly locations where God's presence was revealed, changing the course of history. Jacob's story from Genesis 28:10-17 is a beautiful example of a sacred encounter with God in a thin place.
Jacob left Beersheba and set out for Harran. When he reached a certain place, he stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep. He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. There above it stood the LORD, and he said: “I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, “Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it.” He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.”Throughout the history of Biblical scholarship this story of Jacob's ladder has often been interpreted allegorically as a spiritual metaphor, representing the ascent to Heaven through virtue. Hamma points out, however, that the Biblical text actually emphasizes a physical dimension, and not a spiritual one:
What the text actually says is that "the LORD stood beside him." In other words, God is not at the top of the ladder, up in heaven, but at the foot of the ladder, on earth....Thus Jacob proclaims, "The Lord is in this place - and I did not know it" (emphasis added). It is the realization that God was there that made it a holy place. (62)Our lives our never separated from the context of place. The Spanish philosopher Jose Ortega y Gasset wrote, "Tell me the landscape in which you live, and I will tell you who you are" (Sellner, 32). The land connects us both to our stories and to the greater story. It roots our lives within the context of the here and now, but also holds a sense of memory. Place stands testament to the passage of time; it has observed the comings and goings of generations long past. It is a witness of God's presence here on earth, and it is intimately connected with our own formational stories. We leave our mark on the earth, but it also leaves its mark on us.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Prayer of the Heart
Pilgrimage provides a space for us to experience many of the important elements that shape our souls. It is a path that guides us towards the disciplines of silence and solitude. It is a situation where we must practice faith. It leads us to a place where we discover the joys and benefits of hospitality and companionship. Above all of this, however, pilgrimage is a journey that is formed by an experience of prayer.
Prayer is the sense of union and fellowship that takes places between our soul and God's. It is "all the ways we communicate and commune with God" (Barton, 63). It is "anything we do to be aware of God's presence" (Forest, 16). Some people think that prayer is all about talking to God. Others believe that it is thinking about God. Brother Lawrence, a 17th century Spanish monk, would declare instead that prayer is simply the practice of the presence of God. It is the practice of a continual awareness of God's presence, an awareness that informs our every action out of a love for God.
There is a Christian spiritual classic called The Way of a Pilgrim that tells the story of a Russian pilgrim who sought to make prayer a continual practice on his journey. Confused about the commandment of I Thessalonians 5:17, which instructs the Christian to "pray without ceasing," the pilgrim decides to seek out the answer of how he might be able to pray continually in all that he does. To do this, the pilgrim meets with many experts on prayer, but none of them have the answer for him. Finally, the pilgrim encounters an old monk who teaches him the Jesus prayer: "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me!" The monk instructs the pilgrim to repeat this prayer regularly throughout the day, in increasing increments, until the prayer becomes second nature to him, until the point that the pilgrim's prayer begins to fill every moment, beating with every heartbeat, even in sleep. Essentially, the pilgrim's prayer had to move from his head down to his heart.
"The crisis of our prayer life," writes Henri Nouwen, "is that our mind may be filled with ideas of God while our heart remains far from Him" (1981, 71). Real prayer must come from the heart. It must flow from our inner being out into our lifestyles. Every mundane action on the road is an opportunity for prayer: whether it is walking, talking to a stranger, taking pictures of the scenery or kneeling before a shrine. Forest writes that "nothing we do is meant to be 'merely' physical or 'purely' spiritual. Every act has the potential of uniting the physical and spiritual" (7). Brother Lawrence speaks of his own experience of prayer, "that he was more united to God in his outward employments than when he left them for devotion and retirement" (23). The practice of the presence of God is what makes us aware of the sacrament of the present moment. It is what helps us realize that every moment has the potential to become holy, because every moment is an opportunity for prayer. Once we discover this inward state of communion, prayer becomes transformative, as the pilgrim in The Way of the Pilgrim describes:
Prayer is the sense of union and fellowship that takes places between our soul and God's. It is "all the ways we communicate and commune with God" (Barton, 63). It is "anything we do to be aware of God's presence" (Forest, 16). Some people think that prayer is all about talking to God. Others believe that it is thinking about God. Brother Lawrence, a 17th century Spanish monk, would declare instead that prayer is simply the practice of the presence of God. It is the practice of a continual awareness of God's presence, an awareness that informs our every action out of a love for God.
There is a Christian spiritual classic called The Way of a Pilgrim that tells the story of a Russian pilgrim who sought to make prayer a continual practice on his journey. Confused about the commandment of I Thessalonians 5:17, which instructs the Christian to "pray without ceasing," the pilgrim decides to seek out the answer of how he might be able to pray continually in all that he does. To do this, the pilgrim meets with many experts on prayer, but none of them have the answer for him. Finally, the pilgrim encounters an old monk who teaches him the Jesus prayer: "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me!" The monk instructs the pilgrim to repeat this prayer regularly throughout the day, in increasing increments, until the prayer becomes second nature to him, until the point that the pilgrim's prayer begins to fill every moment, beating with every heartbeat, even in sleep. Essentially, the pilgrim's prayer had to move from his head down to his heart.
"The crisis of our prayer life," writes Henri Nouwen, "is that our mind may be filled with ideas of God while our heart remains far from Him" (1981, 71). Real prayer must come from the heart. It must flow from our inner being out into our lifestyles. Every mundane action on the road is an opportunity for prayer: whether it is walking, talking to a stranger, taking pictures of the scenery or kneeling before a shrine. Forest writes that "nothing we do is meant to be 'merely' physical or 'purely' spiritual. Every act has the potential of uniting the physical and spiritual" (7). Brother Lawrence speaks of his own experience of prayer, "that he was more united to God in his outward employments than when he left them for devotion and retirement" (23). The practice of the presence of God is what makes us aware of the sacrament of the present moment. It is what helps us realize that every moment has the potential to become holy, because every moment is an opportunity for prayer. Once we discover this inward state of communion, prayer becomes transformative, as the pilgrim in The Way of the Pilgrim describes:
As I began to pray now with my heart, everything around me was so delightfully transformed: the trees, the grass, the birds, the ground, the air, the light - all seemed to proclaim that they exist for the sake of man and bear witness to the love of God for man. (24)The fundamental purpose of prayer, according to Ruth Haley Barton, is "to deepen our intimacy with God" (63). This intimacy teaches us to see the world through God-coloured lenses. We begin to realize just how close God is to his creation, to us. We begin to understand how much He loves us, not for what we do but for who we are. Through prayer, we are vulnerable to God. We offer ourselves to Him and in the process find our very reason for being. Pilgrimage is given its sacred quality through the experience of prayer. "A pilgrimage without prayer is no pilgrimage at all" (Forest, 32). If we cannot engage in prayer - in soul communion with God - then we will never find the One whom we seek.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Companionship on the Road
The road is a special place that embodies community. Jim Forest addresses the special feeling that one can experience while walking an old road: "the pilgrim may see no one else behind or ahead and yet be profoundly aware of not being alone. Hundreds of thousands of others have passed this way, generation after generation" (4). Roads do not only provide a map for our journey, but they also connect us to one another. "The road is an invitation to cross frontiers, to start a dialogue, to end enmity. Each road gives witness to the need we have to be in touch with one other" (Forest, 1). Humans were not made to take the journey alone; roads are a testament of our desire for companionship.
There is something both individual and communal about the practice of pilgrimage. Pilgrimage provides an avenue for us to seek out silence and solitude, but it is also a journey that is rarely, if ever, taken alone. Taylor writes, "each pilgrim goes individually to find God, to find meaning, or, at least, to fulfill some indefinite hope. And yet we often go together, with other pilgrims, or, even if alone, where others have gone before us" (12). Sometimes it is a friend who is our companion. At other times, we find a sense of companionship in the lives of the saints, whose journeys inform our own. We also find companionship with God, as our souls take the opportunity that the silence provides to communicate with Him.
Sometimes we encounter companionship unexpectedly on the road. When I was 19 years old I joined a missions group called LifeForce and travelled across the country with a group of strangers, stopping in towns across Canada to perform short dramas and give motivational talks at schools and churches. As we travelled to different places, we would often spend time with other strangers in towns who would house us, hang out with us and minister with us. I quickly discovered that community could be found anywhere, even in the company of strangers. One of my favourite memories was in Winnipeg when serving as a camp counsellor for under-privileged kids. I was one of three counsellors taking care of five girls. There were times when that didn't seem like enough. The kids that we were serving had come with so much internal baggage that the three of us were constantly running around without time to talk to each other other than to say a few words when our eyes happened to meet. In the middle of this hectic crazyness, something amazing happened. The three of us counsellors began quoting Scripture to each other everytime our eyes met, encouraging each other with the word of God, telling each other not to give up. Even though we were saying little else to each other, I became aware of an incredible sense of community, even among strangers.
Pilgrimage provides many opportunities to come into contact with strangers. Every stranger that we meet is an opportunity for community. There is a tendency in our society today, however, to be wary of the stranger: we lock and dead-bolt our doors; we avoid eye-contact; and we are reluctant to sit down at any seat that is within one foot of a stranger. In order to discover community in the company of strangers, therefore, we need to be able to convert our unconscious hostility into an conscious attitude of hospitality. Henri Nouwen describes hospitality as "the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy" (Nouwen, 1966, 71). It is a place where we can share our gifts with each other and find a new sense of unity and life with each other. It is a place "where strangers can cast off their strangeness and become our fellow human beings" (Nouwen, 1966, 65). Hospitality leads us towards a sense of community in pilgrimage as we discover companionship with the strangers who are walking the same road as us, seeking the same sense of purpose.
Like all good things, pilgrimage is an experience that is best shared. Travelling with a companion provides a sense of solidarity, of mutual purpose for the journey. It also takes the edge off of loneliness. Companions are people who can share in both our laughter and our tears. They are people who explore the mystery with us. They help us to see God in unexpected places. They help to point out moments of transcendence. They share the silence with us. They encourage us along the journey merely by their presence. The companion brings a greater depth of meaning and reality to the pilgrimage experience.
Every pilgrimage needs to have some balance between solitude and companionship. McGrath explains, "to journey on our own is to have the time and space to uncover ourselves; to travel with others is to allow them to identify the strengths and weaknesses we managed to hide from ourselves, and be supported as we try to engage with them" (9). Likewise, regarding the inward journey, Mulholland writes, "we may be able to work through some of our bondage and brokenness alone with God. But when God begins to deal with some of the deep distortions of our being, we need others. In such times we confess our sin to one another, bear one another's burdens and become for one another means of grace to maintain the discipline through which God can bring us to wholeness" (146). There are times on the journey when we need to be alone in order to listen for God's voice in the silence and to our own souls, but there are also times along the journey when we need a companion who can walk alongside us to provide encouragement, share our joy, and lend us strength.
There is something both individual and communal about the practice of pilgrimage. Pilgrimage provides an avenue for us to seek out silence and solitude, but it is also a journey that is rarely, if ever, taken alone. Taylor writes, "each pilgrim goes individually to find God, to find meaning, or, at least, to fulfill some indefinite hope. And yet we often go together, with other pilgrims, or, even if alone, where others have gone before us" (12). Sometimes it is a friend who is our companion. At other times, we find a sense of companionship in the lives of the saints, whose journeys inform our own. We also find companionship with God, as our souls take the opportunity that the silence provides to communicate with Him.
Sometimes we encounter companionship unexpectedly on the road. When I was 19 years old I joined a missions group called LifeForce and travelled across the country with a group of strangers, stopping in towns across Canada to perform short dramas and give motivational talks at schools and churches. As we travelled to different places, we would often spend time with other strangers in towns who would house us, hang out with us and minister with us. I quickly discovered that community could be found anywhere, even in the company of strangers. One of my favourite memories was in Winnipeg when serving as a camp counsellor for under-privileged kids. I was one of three counsellors taking care of five girls. There were times when that didn't seem like enough. The kids that we were serving had come with so much internal baggage that the three of us were constantly running around without time to talk to each other other than to say a few words when our eyes happened to meet. In the middle of this hectic crazyness, something amazing happened. The three of us counsellors began quoting Scripture to each other everytime our eyes met, encouraging each other with the word of God, telling each other not to give up. Even though we were saying little else to each other, I became aware of an incredible sense of community, even among strangers.
Pilgrimage provides many opportunities to come into contact with strangers. Every stranger that we meet is an opportunity for community. There is a tendency in our society today, however, to be wary of the stranger: we lock and dead-bolt our doors; we avoid eye-contact; and we are reluctant to sit down at any seat that is within one foot of a stranger. In order to discover community in the company of strangers, therefore, we need to be able to convert our unconscious hostility into an conscious attitude of hospitality. Henri Nouwen describes hospitality as "the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy" (Nouwen, 1966, 71). It is a place where we can share our gifts with each other and find a new sense of unity and life with each other. It is a place "where strangers can cast off their strangeness and become our fellow human beings" (Nouwen, 1966, 65). Hospitality leads us towards a sense of community in pilgrimage as we discover companionship with the strangers who are walking the same road as us, seeking the same sense of purpose.
Like all good things, pilgrimage is an experience that is best shared. Travelling with a companion provides a sense of solidarity, of mutual purpose for the journey. It also takes the edge off of loneliness. Companions are people who can share in both our laughter and our tears. They are people who explore the mystery with us. They help us to see God in unexpected places. They help to point out moments of transcendence. They share the silence with us. They encourage us along the journey merely by their presence. The companion brings a greater depth of meaning and reality to the pilgrimage experience.
Every pilgrimage needs to have some balance between solitude and companionship. McGrath explains, "to journey on our own is to have the time and space to uncover ourselves; to travel with others is to allow them to identify the strengths and weaknesses we managed to hide from ourselves, and be supported as we try to engage with them" (9). Likewise, regarding the inward journey, Mulholland writes, "we may be able to work through some of our bondage and brokenness alone with God. But when God begins to deal with some of the deep distortions of our being, we need others. In such times we confess our sin to one another, bear one another's burdens and become for one another means of grace to maintain the discipline through which God can bring us to wholeness" (146). There are times on the journey when we need to be alone in order to listen for God's voice in the silence and to our own souls, but there are also times along the journey when we need a companion who can walk alongside us to provide encouragement, share our joy, and lend us strength.
The Community of the Saints
A traditional pilgrimage, in a medieval sense, often involves visiting the shrine of a saint. Saints are people throughout history who have been recognized as leading exemplary, holy lives. Forest writes, "Reading the lives of the saints, one finds people who lived in poverty, served the homeless, devoted their lives to prayer, withdrew from worldly society, [and who] died rather than compromise their faith..." (55). These were unusual people who had a passion for God:
For hundreds if not thousands of years, saints have been both an inspiration and a companion for the pilgrim. Their lives inspire us to seek out places where their presence on Earth lingers. "The death of saints seems only to make them more present among the living. It is not simply that their memory is persistent, but that they become a leaven in many other lives. Their pilgrimage becomes intertwined with the pilgrimages of others" (Forest, 67). Taylor writes, "the hope provided by the lives of saints comes not because they are unfallen but because being fallen does not prevent them from living faithful and powerful lives" (27). On the journey, saints can become our companions. They are a "cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1) whose lives inspire our steps as we seek to obtain even just a little bit of the clarity that they possessed regarding their own identities in relation to God.
They were ascetic where we are hedonistic, spiritual where we are materialistic, self-sacrificing where we are self-indulging, God-centered where we are self-centered, focused where we are diffuse, single in purpose where we are scattered, absolute where we are relativistic, open-handed where we are acquisitive, full of gratitude where we are full of complaint... We do not want to live their lives, but we want very much something they seemed to have had - something we can't quite put our finger on. Perhaps we want their clarity. They were clear in their minds and hearts about the ultimate purpose and meaning of life. (Taylor, 74-75)A shrine is a place recognized as holy through some sort of connection to a saint. Sometimes this connection is historical: the shrine is at a place where the saint once lived, worked or walked. At other times a shrine is associated with a saint because of a relic that is kept at that location: a personal item that either belonged to or that was part of the body of the saint. Shrines play an important role in the tradition of pilgrimage, since they are places where people can experience "the visual and tactile embodiment of a reality other and higher than themselves, not just in a generalized sense of 'the holy', but in the form of contact with the continuing presence of the great departed" (Webb, ix). They are places that allow us "to recall and revisit those experiences of great insight and human transformation" (O'Brien, 39). The presence of relics at these locations "help make real what before may have seemed merely mythological. They deepen relationships between us and those who have gone before us" (Forest, 51). The shrine and its relics provide a tangible experience of the holy. No longer does God seem so far away because we are in the presence of those whose lives were transformed by the power of God. The saints, for the pilgrim, are a link to the presence of God here on Earth.
For hundreds if not thousands of years, saints have been both an inspiration and a companion for the pilgrim. Their lives inspire us to seek out places where their presence on Earth lingers. "The death of saints seems only to make them more present among the living. It is not simply that their memory is persistent, but that they become a leaven in many other lives. Their pilgrimage becomes intertwined with the pilgrimages of others" (Forest, 67). Taylor writes, "the hope provided by the lives of saints comes not because they are unfallen but because being fallen does not prevent them from living faithful and powerful lives" (27). On the journey, saints can become our companions. They are a "cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1) whose lives inspire our steps as we seek to obtain even just a little bit of the clarity that they possessed regarding their own identities in relation to God.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Being a Woman on Pilgrimage
When I was 17 years old I decided that I wanted to go camping by myself. I would take a tent to the lake where there was a free campground and spend a night there in solitude, just me and God. When I presented the idea to my parents there was an immediate reaction: NO! They thought it was too dangerous for a single young woman to go camping by herself (although it would have been fine if I was a boy). I had to spend hours persuading them until they reluctantly gave their permission. The stigma of being a single woman on a journey continued to haunt me though, even after I got to the campground. In the middle of struggling to set up my tent, a well-meaning neighbor from the campground next door came to me concernedly to help and inquired if I was by myself. When I said yes, he offered to share his family's campfire with me that evening because it wasn't safe for a woman to be alone. While I can appreciate the concern of one person for another in this situation, I was also very frustrated. I just wanted to go camping by myself and spend some quality time with God! Everyone on every side, however, was telling me that this was a bad idea, and that it was something that I should not even consider doing by myself. It was at that time I became incredibly aware of how difficult it is for women to engage in any sort of discipline like pilgrimage and retreat. Although our society has become much more egalitarian than the past, women still have to cope with the restrictions of their gender when planning a journey.
In medieval times the restrictions that women faced against planning a journey were even greater than my own. At that time, there were really only two avenues a woman could respectably pursue as a lifestyle: marriage or being a nun in a religious order. If a woman married, she was expected to obtain the permission of her husband to go on a pilgrimage. If she was unmarried then she needed permission from her parents. If she was a nun then she was all but forbidden to take a pilgrimage. This restriction was enforced because ascetic religious women were not allowed to have contact with men, and any woman regardless of age, rank or social status was expected to travel with an escort (usually male). As Diana Webb observes: "The respectable woman was obliged to travel in a respectable manner, suitably escorted according to her rank and marital status" (93). Despite all of these restrictions, pilgrimage remained a remarkably popular practice for women. Countless women embarked on sacred journeys as part of a vow, or on the behalf of a family member, or along with their husbands, or simply from a desire to experience an encounter with the historical Christ.
The prominent presence of women in the history of pilgrimage probably has something to do with the contributions of famous pilgrims like Egeria in the 4th century B.C.E. A lot of speculation exists as to who Egeria was: most think that she was from Spain, probably from the upper-middle class, and perhaps a nun of some sort. For three years Egeria toured the desert around the Holy Land, writing about her journey along the way. She was driven by an insatiable curiosity to see all of the places from the Old Testament and New Testament that were relevant to her faith. Her central purpose "was to vivify and confirm her faith in the truths of Scripture through personal contact with those places marked by the action of God on man" (Egeria, 19). For Egeria, it wasn't enough to hear or read the stories; she had to go and visit those places, so that the stories of Scripture would become all the more real to her. In order to see these places, she went to incredible lengths, often scaling mountains on her hands and feet to reach a holy summit. Her example inspired many, even men. The Spanish monk Valerius, in the 7th century, extols her in a letter to fellow monks as an example of devotion, piety and courage (Sivan, 60).
Margery Kempe is a medieval woman who inherited the pilgrim spirit of Egeria. Margery was an average, middle-class, illiterate housewife and mother of 14 children. At 40 years old she (finally) managed to convince her husband to take a vow of celibacy with her so that she could consecrate her life to Jesus alone. She also got his permission to travel as a pilgrim so that she could develop her passion for Christ, see the holy places in Jerusalem, and meet other passionate pilgrims like herself. On her first journey to the Holy Land, Margery had an emotionally vivid experience where she saw in her soul the crucifiction of Christ. This experience was so intense that "forever after, whenever she saw or heard something that reminded her of Jesus, she wept and cried out loudly and uncontrollably" (Armstrong, 80). After this experience, Margery continued to travel to famous shrines around Europe, developing a vibrant prayer life and a reputation as a prophet. She made a number of enemies as well, although she was never successfully convicted of heresy.
Just like Egeria, Margery was a woman who liked to take chances and push the boundaries of what was considered acceptable for female pilgrims. Both of these women went on their journeys spurred by a passion to know more of Christ, and to be more like him. For women today who might feel a little intimidated by the rigors of the road, these women can be inspirational models of what a woman can accomplish as a pilgrim.
In medieval times the restrictions that women faced against planning a journey were even greater than my own. At that time, there were really only two avenues a woman could respectably pursue as a lifestyle: marriage or being a nun in a religious order. If a woman married, she was expected to obtain the permission of her husband to go on a pilgrimage. If she was unmarried then she needed permission from her parents. If she was a nun then she was all but forbidden to take a pilgrimage. This restriction was enforced because ascetic religious women were not allowed to have contact with men, and any woman regardless of age, rank or social status was expected to travel with an escort (usually male). As Diana Webb observes: "The respectable woman was obliged to travel in a respectable manner, suitably escorted according to her rank and marital status" (93). Despite all of these restrictions, pilgrimage remained a remarkably popular practice for women. Countless women embarked on sacred journeys as part of a vow, or on the behalf of a family member, or along with their husbands, or simply from a desire to experience an encounter with the historical Christ.
The prominent presence of women in the history of pilgrimage probably has something to do with the contributions of famous pilgrims like Egeria in the 4th century B.C.E. A lot of speculation exists as to who Egeria was: most think that she was from Spain, probably from the upper-middle class, and perhaps a nun of some sort. For three years Egeria toured the desert around the Holy Land, writing about her journey along the way. She was driven by an insatiable curiosity to see all of the places from the Old Testament and New Testament that were relevant to her faith. Her central purpose "was to vivify and confirm her faith in the truths of Scripture through personal contact with those places marked by the action of God on man" (Egeria, 19). For Egeria, it wasn't enough to hear or read the stories; she had to go and visit those places, so that the stories of Scripture would become all the more real to her. In order to see these places, she went to incredible lengths, often scaling mountains on her hands and feet to reach a holy summit. Her example inspired many, even men. The Spanish monk Valerius, in the 7th century, extols her in a letter to fellow monks as an example of devotion, piety and courage (Sivan, 60).
Margery Kempe is a medieval woman who inherited the pilgrim spirit of Egeria. Margery was an average, middle-class, illiterate housewife and mother of 14 children. At 40 years old she (finally) managed to convince her husband to take a vow of celibacy with her so that she could consecrate her life to Jesus alone. She also got his permission to travel as a pilgrim so that she could develop her passion for Christ, see the holy places in Jerusalem, and meet other passionate pilgrims like herself. On her first journey to the Holy Land, Margery had an emotionally vivid experience where she saw in her soul the crucifiction of Christ. This experience was so intense that "forever after, whenever she saw or heard something that reminded her of Jesus, she wept and cried out loudly and uncontrollably" (Armstrong, 80). After this experience, Margery continued to travel to famous shrines around Europe, developing a vibrant prayer life and a reputation as a prophet. She made a number of enemies as well, although she was never successfully convicted of heresy.
Just like Egeria, Margery was a woman who liked to take chances and push the boundaries of what was considered acceptable for female pilgrims. Both of these women went on their journeys spurred by a passion to know more of Christ, and to be more like him. For women today who might feel a little intimidated by the rigors of the road, these women can be inspirational models of what a woman can accomplish as a pilgrim.
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