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.

2 comments:

  1. Nowadays I think we are prohibited from solitary pilgrimage more for a sense of safety than respectability (although I suppose that safety would have been an issue back then as well). It's nice that travelling alone no longer destroys our reputations. It's unfortunate that we're still so popular as rape victims...
    Thanks for sharing the examples of Egeria and Margery Kempe!

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  2. I agree, safety is now the concern. One thing that I struggle with though is where to draw the line between fear and common sense. How much of what dictates our behaviour as women travellers is fear, and how much is common sense? Is our common sense influenced by fear? How much should I listen to fear as a traveller on the road? In my example story above, I didn't feel like going camping on my own was something to be scared of, but so many people expressed fear for my well-being that I began to feel uneasy. I didn't like that sensation.

    How often as women pilgrims does fear get in the way of the journey? How often does it get in the way of obedience to the Spirit of God? Our society teaches us that to listen to fear is common sense, but I can't help but thing that God has not given us the spirit of fear, but of love, power and a sound mind, and that we should not fear when God is with us.

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