Alison had a day off work today so we spent much of it checking out the lower part of the first stage of the route (from Buntingford to New Malden) with special emphasis between Buntingford and Willesden as the route through London will not be difficult. So, we were checking out the nature of the country roads we expect to be walking and the appearance of the footpaths we hope to use.
It was a very successful day! So, now we know that we will walk much of the Ely Leg route in reverse to Ely then down the river to Cambridge and through to join the London route to Buntingford before striking South West towards Barnet then Willesden and New Malden.
So, why Willesden? Is it because one of our daughters has a boyfriend from that charming suburb of olde London Towne? Methinks this is not actually the primary reason. There is a more cunning plan afoot!
Quite simply, Willesden was a major medieval pilgrimage site with a major shrine devoted to Our Lady – not too dissimilar to Walsingham. It started a bit earlier as the date of the foundation of the Parish Church of St Mary was 938 during the reign of King Athelstan (who probably gave the church Mary related relics) and, by the time of Walsingham it was beginning to be visited as a shrine. Around the time that Walsingham obtained its mother and child statue Willesden had a black statue of the mother and child, too. Oh, and Willesden had its own holy and miraculous spring, or well, too. The name gives the game away, really – Will (a corruption of well, es (of or under) and den (or hill). The church still has the water source in its crypt, too!
When the authorities were trying to stamp out all Catholic practices in England they found the Marian cult one of the hardest things to deal with and so the Marian shrines really saw some of the harshest treatment. This become such a focussed course of action that, in the end, in 1538 the Lord Privy Seal had, amongst others, the Mary statues from Walsingham, Ipswich, Worcester and Willesden burnt at Chelsea as if they were living people. It was a very dramatic way of saying that the devotion of Mary was now dead....
During roughly that same time the Lady Chapel at Ely was stripped of its wealth, the glorious windows were destroyed and all of the carvings removed or defaced. Along with the religious bling and tat, great treasures of art were destroyed and a very English form of devotion was all but lost.
It was not until the nineteenth century that these places began to see any significant reawakening and it was the early twentieth century that saw them begin to grow again in importance. Somehow, Willesden has never risen to the significance of Walsingham but it merits considerable recognition as one of the special ancient Marian sites in England.
The point of this is not to give anyone a basic history or church history lesson (my info is too scrappy for that, anyway) but to show that the two places are connected and that walking from one to the other does have some sort of special significance. En passant, Alison and I hope to establish a basic, but logical route between Walsingham and Willesden with a view to possibly even building a regular pilgrimage between these two sites. So, it is a simple task to talk about it and a little task to develop this idea when we come back from our current pilgrimage. I will write the guide book if I can...
Of course, there is also something satisfying in making links and the ones we hope to make between the various places we will walk through will hopefully be more significant than the simple fact that we walked through them. There is a strong historical, emotional and symbolic connection between Walsingham, Ely, Cambridge and Willesden and there are a number of other sites whose links will also become obvious as we explore them, too.
I believe that you can often feel the connection between places as you walk from one to the other. And that is really the point. Today’s expedition has emphasised the joy of discovering these sorts of links and we hope to find more ways of connecting places together - through their people, food, drink, history and character.
This is yet another really good thing to look forward to! Phew!
Thursday, 25 February 2010
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
To be a pilgrim
I wrote this yesterday but had no time to load it up.......
When I was an academic I spent a bit of time helping to set up a couple of new universities in Eastern Europe during the “Velvet Revolution”. One of the people I encountered in the University based in Bratislava wrote an essay that started with this little story.…
I was walking by the riverside yesterday evening when I met my old friend Jan. I asked him what he was doing there and he looked at me, then with some confusion in his voice he said, “Can’t you see?” as he waved the fishing rod he was holding out over the water.
I asked again, “But, what are you doing?”
“I’m fishing, of course!” He answered in frustration.
“But have you caught any fish?”
“No..” he replied.
“Well then, how do you know you are fishing?”
The person who wrote this story was planning to be a publisher of Catholic materials – he is probably a publishing magnate by now – but he had lived under a hostile regime that would have arrested and imprisoned him if he had published Catholic books and pamphlets. Indeed, he had spent years secretly smuggling in materials from the Vatican and distributing them throughout Czechoslovakia.
The story was expressing his frustration and confusion as he tried to start up his new business. Nothing had happened yet and, despite all of his planning, he didn’t know whether he would ever publish a single thing. He was calling himself a Catholic publisher but….
The reason why I am writing about this now is that I was privileged to be allowed to give a sermon in a church on Sunday and one of the things I said was that Alison and I are pilgrims. I stood there at the pulpit, looking out over the congregation and used the fact that we were pilgrims to explain both why I am involved in homelessness charities and where some of my empathy with homeless and badly housed people lies.
It was not until later, when I was talking to some of the parishioners over coffee, that I began to wonder at the validity of my claim. After all, we regularly take part in pilgrimages and we are planning to go on a pilgrimage which will last longer than most, but we are not on pilgrimage as I write this, are we? I mean, I am either dashing around helping my son settle into his new flat (Hurray! Wonderful news – my son has a place of his own to live in – he deserves a place so much!!) or helping my other daughters/grand children/etc or (whenever at all possible) sitting here writing. Alison is at a board meeting today and is working ‘till close to 9pm tonight. Neither of us has had the chance to even check out last minute details of the route yet, never mind physically take part in a pilgrimage.
So, how come I can say I am a pilgrim?
Is it because I’m scruffy and carry my belongings around in a back-pack? Is it because I can bore the grin of the most tolerant of people while talking about the walk? Perhaps it is because Alison and I spend so much time thinking and working on it – even if we feel it is not nearly enough time?
The simple fact is that I think we did start our journey some time before now and we have been gradually attuning ourselves to being what can be called “pilgrims”.
On Student Cross you can turn up the night before the start of the pilgrimage to join the group, or Leg and, after a short time you become part of a group, then you walk together and become one of a group of pilgrims. Certain people (leaders/secretaries) do the organising and make sure that the pilgrimage works during the week. Having been in such roles myself, I can affirm that you start your own pilgrimage a long time before the rest of the Leg on such occasions.
Gradually, as we draw closer to the actual walk, it will become harder to distinguish between the pilgrimage and other things. Or, rather, the context will shift from one of looking from where we are to the pilgrimage to one of looking from the pilgrimage to other things! That time draws closer each day.
The story at the beginning asks how Jan knows he is fishing if he has not caught a fish. It is a very particular way of asking a question and it reveals that human beings do not need to have concrete evidence to validate many different types of truth. We know we are standing up or sitting down even when our eyes are closed. We know that the food we smell exists and whether it is likely to taste good or not even if we have not seen or tasted it. We know that friends/family are alive and well even when we cannot see them, etc.
So I know that we are pilgrims, even if we are not currently on pilgrimage. It is, amongst so many things, a state of mind, a process, an experience and a journey – and our journey is about to physically start very soon!
When I was an academic I spent a bit of time helping to set up a couple of new universities in Eastern Europe during the “Velvet Revolution”. One of the people I encountered in the University based in Bratislava wrote an essay that started with this little story.…
I was walking by the riverside yesterday evening when I met my old friend Jan. I asked him what he was doing there and he looked at me, then with some confusion in his voice he said, “Can’t you see?” as he waved the fishing rod he was holding out over the water.
I asked again, “But, what are you doing?”
“I’m fishing, of course!” He answered in frustration.
“But have you caught any fish?”
“No..” he replied.
“Well then, how do you know you are fishing?”
The person who wrote this story was planning to be a publisher of Catholic materials – he is probably a publishing magnate by now – but he had lived under a hostile regime that would have arrested and imprisoned him if he had published Catholic books and pamphlets. Indeed, he had spent years secretly smuggling in materials from the Vatican and distributing them throughout Czechoslovakia.
The story was expressing his frustration and confusion as he tried to start up his new business. Nothing had happened yet and, despite all of his planning, he didn’t know whether he would ever publish a single thing. He was calling himself a Catholic publisher but….
The reason why I am writing about this now is that I was privileged to be allowed to give a sermon in a church on Sunday and one of the things I said was that Alison and I are pilgrims. I stood there at the pulpit, looking out over the congregation and used the fact that we were pilgrims to explain both why I am involved in homelessness charities and where some of my empathy with homeless and badly housed people lies.
It was not until later, when I was talking to some of the parishioners over coffee, that I began to wonder at the validity of my claim. After all, we regularly take part in pilgrimages and we are planning to go on a pilgrimage which will last longer than most, but we are not on pilgrimage as I write this, are we? I mean, I am either dashing around helping my son settle into his new flat (Hurray! Wonderful news – my son has a place of his own to live in – he deserves a place so much!!) or helping my other daughters/grand children/etc or (whenever at all possible) sitting here writing. Alison is at a board meeting today and is working ‘till close to 9pm tonight. Neither of us has had the chance to even check out last minute details of the route yet, never mind physically take part in a pilgrimage.
So, how come I can say I am a pilgrim?
Is it because I’m scruffy and carry my belongings around in a back-pack? Is it because I can bore the grin of the most tolerant of people while talking about the walk? Perhaps it is because Alison and I spend so much time thinking and working on it – even if we feel it is not nearly enough time?
The simple fact is that I think we did start our journey some time before now and we have been gradually attuning ourselves to being what can be called “pilgrims”.
On Student Cross you can turn up the night before the start of the pilgrimage to join the group, or Leg and, after a short time you become part of a group, then you walk together and become one of a group of pilgrims. Certain people (leaders/secretaries) do the organising and make sure that the pilgrimage works during the week. Having been in such roles myself, I can affirm that you start your own pilgrimage a long time before the rest of the Leg on such occasions.
Gradually, as we draw closer to the actual walk, it will become harder to distinguish between the pilgrimage and other things. Or, rather, the context will shift from one of looking from where we are to the pilgrimage to one of looking from the pilgrimage to other things! That time draws closer each day.
The story at the beginning asks how Jan knows he is fishing if he has not caught a fish. It is a very particular way of asking a question and it reveals that human beings do not need to have concrete evidence to validate many different types of truth. We know we are standing up or sitting down even when our eyes are closed. We know that the food we smell exists and whether it is likely to taste good or not even if we have not seen or tasted it. We know that friends/family are alive and well even when we cannot see them, etc.
So I know that we are pilgrims, even if we are not currently on pilgrimage. It is, amongst so many things, a state of mind, a process, an experience and a journey – and our journey is about to physically start very soon!
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Touched – by the weather
The clouds are moving so fast across the sky that it feels quite surreal. At times it looks like the sort of special effect that film makers use when they have someone rooted to a place while everyone moves quickly passed them on a speeded up film, or like the dramatic cloudscapes rushing across the sky to denote the passage of time. As my house is framed in the window of my study (a room at the bottom of the garden) the effect when I first started work this morning was as if my house and garden were speeding through space towards some new destination (in another galaxy?). Then the direction of the wind changed and the clouds are now moving a little more sedately from right to left (north to south). However, they are still moving faster than I have seen them for a long while.
I have just watched a bird as it tried to fly towards me high in the sky. It has been pushed from my right to my left and each time it tries to make headway it seems to get only so far and the sideways forces make it so unstable it reverts back to gliding and tacking against the wind and begins drifting further to my left. It has gone out of sight now and yet it had barely made any headway before disappearing.
Today, I am reflecting on the nature of pilgrimage for something I am writing (an article) and at the moment I am thinking about walking. Of course, people tend to say that walking gives you time to connect with the world around you as you pass through it. They often compare this with cycling and driving cars or moving along on public transport. Usually, they talk about it this way in relation to the relative speed of each mode of transport. Of course, the effect of being separated from your environment is also a factor.
I have talked about the effect of walking with others but if we just stop and think about the process of simply walking from A to B we can see that other things may also be factors.
I like the idea that everything we encounter changes us in some way – we leave something of ourselves behind and take up something from the encounter. So, the more closely we interact with a thing the more we exchange. Diving a car through a landscape may affect us emotionally and there is still some physical exchange – as a member of a family of hay fever sufferers I know that driving through areas with a high pollen count can affect all who take part in the journey, for example. But I fear that driving through a landscape results in us leaving more than we pick up!
Modes of transport such as bicycles, horses and walking certainly bring you closer to the world you are passing through. As someone who has enjoyed all three of these alternatives I can certainly see advantages in each one.
However, as I am going to be walking all the way to Santiago (I hope) it is the act of footslogging that concerns my thoughts most.
Some of my thoughts have that enthusiastic thrust of the optimist where I know that each step will be a privilege and a pleasure and other, darker thoughts lead me to worry that I might not be up to the task in some way. But all of me knows that the time spent walking through towns and country roads or paths will be time well spent. I know about the struggle to do the last few miles and of the pains that can dog you as you go. I worry about blisters and strains and I know that sometimes the environment you pass through is neither welcoming nor kind. And I know that focussing on each footstep as you trudge up a hill in the rain, dodging the heavy backwash spray of lorries as they roar past too close for comfort is far from the idyllic image of savouring the beautiful countryside as we stroll comfortably through it.
But it all adds up to one thing in the end – it is the pilgrimage we choose to take and along with the good and the easy comes the less good and the more difficult and even the down right unpleasant bits.
Which brings me back to the clouds scuddering by my window as the weather tries to pretend it is springtime in between each fresh flurry of snow. At the moment I am sitting as everything weather-wise passes me by. On the road we will be on the move each day and, depending on the direction of the winds, etc., we will either have the weather as our companion or as our passing friend. And because we will be walking, we will have the time to appreciate each of its aspects in considerable detail. So, I wonder, will we miss this intimate relationship when we return home? Will we think of ourselves as being “weather beaten” at the end or what? I know the phrase “sun kissed” but is there another expression around or should we invent one on our return?
I have just watched a bird as it tried to fly towards me high in the sky. It has been pushed from my right to my left and each time it tries to make headway it seems to get only so far and the sideways forces make it so unstable it reverts back to gliding and tacking against the wind and begins drifting further to my left. It has gone out of sight now and yet it had barely made any headway before disappearing.
Today, I am reflecting on the nature of pilgrimage for something I am writing (an article) and at the moment I am thinking about walking. Of course, people tend to say that walking gives you time to connect with the world around you as you pass through it. They often compare this with cycling and driving cars or moving along on public transport. Usually, they talk about it this way in relation to the relative speed of each mode of transport. Of course, the effect of being separated from your environment is also a factor.
I have talked about the effect of walking with others but if we just stop and think about the process of simply walking from A to B we can see that other things may also be factors.
I like the idea that everything we encounter changes us in some way – we leave something of ourselves behind and take up something from the encounter. So, the more closely we interact with a thing the more we exchange. Diving a car through a landscape may affect us emotionally and there is still some physical exchange – as a member of a family of hay fever sufferers I know that driving through areas with a high pollen count can affect all who take part in the journey, for example. But I fear that driving through a landscape results in us leaving more than we pick up!
Modes of transport such as bicycles, horses and walking certainly bring you closer to the world you are passing through. As someone who has enjoyed all three of these alternatives I can certainly see advantages in each one.
However, as I am going to be walking all the way to Santiago (I hope) it is the act of footslogging that concerns my thoughts most.
Some of my thoughts have that enthusiastic thrust of the optimist where I know that each step will be a privilege and a pleasure and other, darker thoughts lead me to worry that I might not be up to the task in some way. But all of me knows that the time spent walking through towns and country roads or paths will be time well spent. I know about the struggle to do the last few miles and of the pains that can dog you as you go. I worry about blisters and strains and I know that sometimes the environment you pass through is neither welcoming nor kind. And I know that focussing on each footstep as you trudge up a hill in the rain, dodging the heavy backwash spray of lorries as they roar past too close for comfort is far from the idyllic image of savouring the beautiful countryside as we stroll comfortably through it.
But it all adds up to one thing in the end – it is the pilgrimage we choose to take and along with the good and the easy comes the less good and the more difficult and even the down right unpleasant bits.
Which brings me back to the clouds scuddering by my window as the weather tries to pretend it is springtime in between each fresh flurry of snow. At the moment I am sitting as everything weather-wise passes me by. On the road we will be on the move each day and, depending on the direction of the winds, etc., we will either have the weather as our companion or as our passing friend. And because we will be walking, we will have the time to appreciate each of its aspects in considerable detail. So, I wonder, will we miss this intimate relationship when we return home? Will we think of ourselves as being “weather beaten” at the end or what? I know the phrase “sun kissed” but is there another expression around or should we invent one on our return?
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Pilgrimage as a risk taking activity
I’ve been submerged in a mixture of planning and research (as well as the usual family and work commitments, of course) and have started to feel the panic rising – not enough time to do it all, etc….
Still, there is an element in all of this that is about just letting go and letting the Spirit do some of the work. It made me think of stuff I was writing a year or so ago about “God the risk-taker” – in some respects the whole of creation is a risk with everything left to self determination and it is up to us to work out the right things to do, etc. But, of course (and although this is for those of you who believe in God, it is also something everyone might consider in some way) if we are made in God’s image, surely we too have an element of risk taking built into us. And I think we have, whatever source we believe our nature to be, it is in our nature and is part of the key to our survival as a species, that we take risks. It has its bad aspects (global warming, global economic ruin, etc) but it has huge benefits, too and is one of the keys to our success as a species.
But, of course, in order for it to work, risk taking has to be in some way enjoyable. Leaping into the unknown is something we do rather well and taking calculated risks is also a pretty good human talent. So, whether it is purely evolution or part of God’s rather open-ended plan for the universe (or our part in it), we humans are known to reach particular points where there seems to be no other option but to take another step and see where it leads us. And some of us do this with relish!
Now, this may seem a bit esoteric for such a blog as this but there is a very important point I feel I need to make (or is it an excuse?) …
On the 5th of April we finally start to put one foot in front of the other and set off on our travels. I will have done all I can to get things ready and planned but there will be gaps, there will be lots of unknowns and we will have points of destination with no guaranteed place to rest our heads, etc. We will have to rely on the good will of strangers and the fact that we can deal with what ever is presented to us. Come rain or shine, we will have to get by. We will be living in interesting times!
In contrast to this, almost all of the organised pilgrimages I have taken part in have had fully planned routes with agreed stops and so on along the way. The only exception was when I walked solo to Walsingham and relied on people putting me up along the way. During that journey I did encounter a couple or so difficult times where I faced the prospect of a night in the rain, etc. but it all worked out OK in the end and the whole experience is a precious thing that I hold near to me and treasure as a special gift. So, I expect the coming trip to be at least as good, despite the greater risks – or perhaps because of them!
I will end this ramble with a short extract from the book on the Pilgrim Cross march to Vezelay in 1946. Sorry about returning to that particular event but see what you make of this…
Fr Gerald Vann O.P. wrote a letter on the 24th May to all of the Catholic press calling for, as the book narrates, “20 or 30 strong men who would be willing to walk a distance of 300 miles through France carrying a heavy wooden cross to Vezelay where 800 years previously St. Bernard had preached the Second Crusade. No definite arrangements for food or shelter had been made in France. They were to be prepared for hunger, thirst, fatigue, insults. They could expect nothing better than a barn for shelter or even the open sky. They would be required to carry packs on their backs as well as the cross on their shoulders. To cover the expenses of those selected but unable to pay, others were asked to send donations. All this was to be done for the love of Christ and peace in the world through him.”
The letter got a huge response with too many volunteers and more money than they needed. Out of the hundred plus volunteers, Fr Vann and his compatriots chose as broad a cross section of men as they could to undertake the walk so that it would best represent the breadth and depths of character of the British public as they saw it.
Well, as a man and a woman we are a pretty good cross-section of the public (50% better than the 1946 one in some respects, anyway) and I hope we will be facing better prospects – so I better get back to that panning thing!
One final note, I wrote to the Osprey people (about the unavailability of my preferred rucksack) and they treated my query/request as an appeal letter for sponsorship, which was a minor part of the letter I sent. After a second letter they did point me to some possible stockists but no offer of equipment… ho hum! I hope for and expect more generosity on the road!
Still, there is an element in all of this that is about just letting go and letting the Spirit do some of the work. It made me think of stuff I was writing a year or so ago about “God the risk-taker” – in some respects the whole of creation is a risk with everything left to self determination and it is up to us to work out the right things to do, etc. But, of course (and although this is for those of you who believe in God, it is also something everyone might consider in some way) if we are made in God’s image, surely we too have an element of risk taking built into us. And I think we have, whatever source we believe our nature to be, it is in our nature and is part of the key to our survival as a species, that we take risks. It has its bad aspects (global warming, global economic ruin, etc) but it has huge benefits, too and is one of the keys to our success as a species.
But, of course, in order for it to work, risk taking has to be in some way enjoyable. Leaping into the unknown is something we do rather well and taking calculated risks is also a pretty good human talent. So, whether it is purely evolution or part of God’s rather open-ended plan for the universe (or our part in it), we humans are known to reach particular points where there seems to be no other option but to take another step and see where it leads us. And some of us do this with relish!
Now, this may seem a bit esoteric for such a blog as this but there is a very important point I feel I need to make (or is it an excuse?) …
On the 5th of April we finally start to put one foot in front of the other and set off on our travels. I will have done all I can to get things ready and planned but there will be gaps, there will be lots of unknowns and we will have points of destination with no guaranteed place to rest our heads, etc. We will have to rely on the good will of strangers and the fact that we can deal with what ever is presented to us. Come rain or shine, we will have to get by. We will be living in interesting times!
In contrast to this, almost all of the organised pilgrimages I have taken part in have had fully planned routes with agreed stops and so on along the way. The only exception was when I walked solo to Walsingham and relied on people putting me up along the way. During that journey I did encounter a couple or so difficult times where I faced the prospect of a night in the rain, etc. but it all worked out OK in the end and the whole experience is a precious thing that I hold near to me and treasure as a special gift. So, I expect the coming trip to be at least as good, despite the greater risks – or perhaps because of them!
I will end this ramble with a short extract from the book on the Pilgrim Cross march to Vezelay in 1946. Sorry about returning to that particular event but see what you make of this…
Fr Gerald Vann O.P. wrote a letter on the 24th May to all of the Catholic press calling for, as the book narrates, “20 or 30 strong men who would be willing to walk a distance of 300 miles through France carrying a heavy wooden cross to Vezelay where 800 years previously St. Bernard had preached the Second Crusade. No definite arrangements for food or shelter had been made in France. They were to be prepared for hunger, thirst, fatigue, insults. They could expect nothing better than a barn for shelter or even the open sky. They would be required to carry packs on their backs as well as the cross on their shoulders. To cover the expenses of those selected but unable to pay, others were asked to send donations. All this was to be done for the love of Christ and peace in the world through him.”
The letter got a huge response with too many volunteers and more money than they needed. Out of the hundred plus volunteers, Fr Vann and his compatriots chose as broad a cross section of men as they could to undertake the walk so that it would best represent the breadth and depths of character of the British public as they saw it.
Well, as a man and a woman we are a pretty good cross-section of the public (50% better than the 1946 one in some respects, anyway) and I hope we will be facing better prospects – so I better get back to that panning thing!
One final note, I wrote to the Osprey people (about the unavailability of my preferred rucksack) and they treated my query/request as an appeal letter for sponsorship, which was a minor part of the letter I sent. After a second letter they did point me to some possible stockists but no offer of equipment… ho hum! I hope for and expect more generosity on the road!
Friday, 5 February 2010
Origins and images
On Thursday afternoon I collected the book “Pilgrim Cross – Vezelay Peace Pilgrimage) which was published by Blackfriars Publications in 1946, shortly after the peace pilgrimage took place.
I am on my third reading of the text and once my useless printer starts working I will scan it in (HP printers are the pits, folks, this one wants to update the drivers every day and re-install on a very regular basis, grrr).
Printer problems aside, this book is fantastic. It tells the story of the British contingent of that amazing pilgrimage to Vezelay and of what happened when everyone arrived. It is a truly moving story and the sermon by the author and instigator of the British element, Fr Gerald Vann, O.P., is also very good. The photos just knock you over as they are both extremely evocative of the time and event and are so redolent with the experience of Student Cross even today. Certainly, the pattern and experience of pilgrimage on Student Cross is directly inherited from this event.
I have a lot to reflect on and write about as a result of this but for the moment it has placed one particular dilemma in my path. The pilgrims walked from Dieppe to Vezelay taking a longer and slower path than Alison and I intend to take. However, it may be possible for us to follow part of their route and so I am about to re-assess where we are planning to walk and see how it might be changed.
Of course, if it means adding days to our route it will be difficult to justify – we have a limited time frame for all of this – but we will certainly give it a try.
Also, I must share with you this revised image of the pilgrimage. I imagined (romantically, I must admit) them emerging from the mist to see Vezelay for the first time in the morning sun. Well, they certainly entered Vezelay for the first time in the morning but my romaticism did not even come close to the real story!
This is how it happened - all of the 14 groups arrived there on the 19th July 1946 and were led to spots on the hills within sight of Vezelay. So they settled down for the night in a ring of small camps around the town. Each could see the basilica perched on the top of the hill and each waited as darkness fell. Silently, they gathered wood for a beacon fire and waited. As they held their vigil a summer storm began to gather and lightning flickered and lit up the sky. Then, at 10 pm the basilica bells rang out, a rocket was fired from the roof of the church and the building was lit up with lights and one at a time, each group fired off their rocket and lit their beacon fire. Everyone in the church and in each camp sang together the plain chant Vexilla Regis, then silence again as the lights in the church were extinguished and each group was left to spend the last night praying together on the hillside by their dying fire and their cross.
Well, what an image to deal with! What an amazing thing to have experienced!
I will stop there and get on with my work! Cheers!
I am on my third reading of the text and once my useless printer starts working I will scan it in (HP printers are the pits, folks, this one wants to update the drivers every day and re-install on a very regular basis, grrr).
Printer problems aside, this book is fantastic. It tells the story of the British contingent of that amazing pilgrimage to Vezelay and of what happened when everyone arrived. It is a truly moving story and the sermon by the author and instigator of the British element, Fr Gerald Vann, O.P., is also very good. The photos just knock you over as they are both extremely evocative of the time and event and are so redolent with the experience of Student Cross even today. Certainly, the pattern and experience of pilgrimage on Student Cross is directly inherited from this event.
I have a lot to reflect on and write about as a result of this but for the moment it has placed one particular dilemma in my path. The pilgrims walked from Dieppe to Vezelay taking a longer and slower path than Alison and I intend to take. However, it may be possible for us to follow part of their route and so I am about to re-assess where we are planning to walk and see how it might be changed.
Of course, if it means adding days to our route it will be difficult to justify – we have a limited time frame for all of this – but we will certainly give it a try.
Also, I must share with you this revised image of the pilgrimage. I imagined (romantically, I must admit) them emerging from the mist to see Vezelay for the first time in the morning sun. Well, they certainly entered Vezelay for the first time in the morning but my romaticism did not even come close to the real story!
This is how it happened - all of the 14 groups arrived there on the 19th July 1946 and were led to spots on the hills within sight of Vezelay. So they settled down for the night in a ring of small camps around the town. Each could see the basilica perched on the top of the hill and each waited as darkness fell. Silently, they gathered wood for a beacon fire and waited. As they held their vigil a summer storm began to gather and lightning flickered and lit up the sky. Then, at 10 pm the basilica bells rang out, a rocket was fired from the roof of the church and the building was lit up with lights and one at a time, each group fired off their rocket and lit their beacon fire. Everyone in the church and in each camp sang together the plain chant Vexilla Regis, then silence again as the lights in the church were extinguished and each group was left to spend the last night praying together on the hillside by their dying fire and their cross.
Well, what an image to deal with! What an amazing thing to have experienced!
I will stop there and get on with my work! Cheers!
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Starting with an old photograph
Just a quick note during these dull and drizzly days.
Alison and I were talking about the origins of the first Student Cross pilgrimage and she said that she had looked at a close-up ‘photo of the first Student Cross Pilgrims taken in 1948. Her earlier viewings of the ‘photos had been of small, blurry pictures but this had been taken for a newspaper and was obviously a publicity picture (or, rather, a picture staged by the group at the request of a photographer). Why did she know this? Well the group were walking over one of the London bridges (looks like London Bridge, actually) and that is something that never happens on any of the Student Cross routes. The first walkers left from the Catholic Church in Ely Place, Holborn and walked north. Subsequent pilgrimages did this until they set off from the Catholic Chaplaincy at Moore House in South Kensington and headed up, by tube, to Epping.
So, anyway, she was telling me that she looked at the group in all of the detail offered by such a picture and she noticed that the leader was wearing a pin stripe suit. It looked a bit odd, but it all made sense. Just after the war clothing continued to be rationed for a good few years, so an old suit was a good choice rather than you trying to buy something new. Of course, most of the pilgrims at the beginning were ex-service men so a number of them also wore fatigues left over from their days in the services.
The other things that were noticeable were the orderly way they seemed to be walking together (marching?) behind the cross and the youthfulness of so many of them. When you think what some of these young men had gone through it is somehow not surprising to me that they were willing to take up the cross and walk with it.
It made me think of the experience of walking with the cross at that time. They would have walked through some of the most damaged parts of central London and then into a section of the rest of London that was either grim because of the bombing or simply because of the deep impoverishment suffered y it since Victorian times. Farringdon and Smithfield, Clerkenwell, Old Street, Shoreditch, Kingsland Road, Dalston, Stoke Newington, Shacklewell, Stamford Hill, Tottenham, Edmonton and so on… Slums and dereliction, impoverishment and disruption … and through it all came these ex-servicemen marching along with a blooming great wooden cross singing hymns and saying the Rosary as they went!
It must have been quite a thing to behold.
It also makes me think of those who walked across war-torn Europe just a short time before them on the peace march to Vezelay. I see them in my mind, marching along those quiet Burgundian lanes that wind their way through the forests and vineyards to that ancient hill top village and I imagine hearing the sound of their feet rumbling below their song as they march along and emerge out of the heavy morning mist to see for the first time the basilica spot lit by a warm golden sun. I can only imagine what drove them to join the march – what had they seen, what had they experienced - and it helps me focus on the reasons why Alison and I are planning our own pilgrimage.
Yes, It’s good to look carefully at the past and see how the signs of the times then drove them to their actions and to remind ourselves that it is the signs of the times that should motivate our thinking today.
Alison and I were talking about the origins of the first Student Cross pilgrimage and she said that she had looked at a close-up ‘photo of the first Student Cross Pilgrims taken in 1948. Her earlier viewings of the ‘photos had been of small, blurry pictures but this had been taken for a newspaper and was obviously a publicity picture (or, rather, a picture staged by the group at the request of a photographer). Why did she know this? Well the group were walking over one of the London bridges (looks like London Bridge, actually) and that is something that never happens on any of the Student Cross routes. The first walkers left from the Catholic Church in Ely Place, Holborn and walked north. Subsequent pilgrimages did this until they set off from the Catholic Chaplaincy at Moore House in South Kensington and headed up, by tube, to Epping.
So, anyway, she was telling me that she looked at the group in all of the detail offered by such a picture and she noticed that the leader was wearing a pin stripe suit. It looked a bit odd, but it all made sense. Just after the war clothing continued to be rationed for a good few years, so an old suit was a good choice rather than you trying to buy something new. Of course, most of the pilgrims at the beginning were ex-service men so a number of them also wore fatigues left over from their days in the services.
The other things that were noticeable were the orderly way they seemed to be walking together (marching?) behind the cross and the youthfulness of so many of them. When you think what some of these young men had gone through it is somehow not surprising to me that they were willing to take up the cross and walk with it.
It made me think of the experience of walking with the cross at that time. They would have walked through some of the most damaged parts of central London and then into a section of the rest of London that was either grim because of the bombing or simply because of the deep impoverishment suffered y it since Victorian times. Farringdon and Smithfield, Clerkenwell, Old Street, Shoreditch, Kingsland Road, Dalston, Stoke Newington, Shacklewell, Stamford Hill, Tottenham, Edmonton and so on… Slums and dereliction, impoverishment and disruption … and through it all came these ex-servicemen marching along with a blooming great wooden cross singing hymns and saying the Rosary as they went!
It must have been quite a thing to behold.
It also makes me think of those who walked across war-torn Europe just a short time before them on the peace march to Vezelay. I see them in my mind, marching along those quiet Burgundian lanes that wind their way through the forests and vineyards to that ancient hill top village and I imagine hearing the sound of their feet rumbling below their song as they march along and emerge out of the heavy morning mist to see for the first time the basilica spot lit by a warm golden sun. I can only imagine what drove them to join the march – what had they seen, what had they experienced - and it helps me focus on the reasons why Alison and I are planning our own pilgrimage.
Yes, It’s good to look carefully at the past and see how the signs of the times then drove them to their actions and to remind ourselves that it is the signs of the times that should motivate our thinking today.
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
The special act of walking together
I attended the AGM of the Confraternity of St James on Saturday (30th Jan.) and had a very enjoyable day. Two of our friends who are members had stayed over with us the night before and, as Alison went off to talk at a Las Casas Institute conference in Oxford, I went with them to the meeting.
I picked up a lot of useful advice and news regarding the route and the practicalities of pilgrimhood. I also enjoyed the real camaraderie which is ever present in any group of pilgrims and was deeply reassured by this. I also have a longer list of things to think about and consider/worry on – but that was to be expected!
Alison and I believe that there is something very special and particular about walking together. The effect of walking and talking together as you share a journey seems to be greater than the sum of all the parts (if you see what I mean) and deep friendships are often forged though this simple process.
Considering the “why” of this has led me to a couple of conclusions.
Firstly, we could simply say that the root of all human journeys is the act of walking together. It is what all animals do in family and social groups and was the only method for humans for many (hundreds of)thousands of years before we began to domesticate animals, develop wheels, build boats, etc. and persisted as the most common experience up until the 19th Century in Western cultures (though it is probably still the most common experience for a huge percentage of people even today). So, walking together is a fundamental part of our nature which has only very recently become a marginalized activity in our society.
This thought leads me to suspect that we still have a lot of hard-wiring adapted to this act of walking together that is opened up or used to its full when we share a journey on foot. Perhaps this is why walking is not only physically good for you, but is also a therapeutic thing to do.
My second idea is that the act of walking’s physical aspects may bring us together in a particular and special way. When we walk together we tend to match each other’s pace. We slow down or speed up slightly to match our walking partner and end up walking in time with them (or they with us). Our breathing begins to regulate itself and our heart begins to beat at a regular pace which matches our activity. We end up not just walking in time with each other but in harmony with each other! Heartbeats, breathing and physical movement are tuned into each other and we come closer together than we would come if we were simply sitting next to each other. What other activities end up with you matching another person’s movement, breathing and heartbeat?
Don’t answer that!
Playing music, singing and dancing together are the ones I was going to suggest!
Anyway, I found the whole day very enjoyable and am glad that Alison and I are now full members of that wonderful organisation. We also look forward to walking with many new friends over the coming months.
So much to do, but so much to look forward to as well!
I picked up a lot of useful advice and news regarding the route and the practicalities of pilgrimhood. I also enjoyed the real camaraderie which is ever present in any group of pilgrims and was deeply reassured by this. I also have a longer list of things to think about and consider/worry on – but that was to be expected!
Alison and I believe that there is something very special and particular about walking together. The effect of walking and talking together as you share a journey seems to be greater than the sum of all the parts (if you see what I mean) and deep friendships are often forged though this simple process.
Considering the “why” of this has led me to a couple of conclusions.
Firstly, we could simply say that the root of all human journeys is the act of walking together. It is what all animals do in family and social groups and was the only method for humans for many (hundreds of)thousands of years before we began to domesticate animals, develop wheels, build boats, etc. and persisted as the most common experience up until the 19th Century in Western cultures (though it is probably still the most common experience for a huge percentage of people even today). So, walking together is a fundamental part of our nature which has only very recently become a marginalized activity in our society.
This thought leads me to suspect that we still have a lot of hard-wiring adapted to this act of walking together that is opened up or used to its full when we share a journey on foot. Perhaps this is why walking is not only physically good for you, but is also a therapeutic thing to do.
My second idea is that the act of walking’s physical aspects may bring us together in a particular and special way. When we walk together we tend to match each other’s pace. We slow down or speed up slightly to match our walking partner and end up walking in time with them (or they with us). Our breathing begins to regulate itself and our heart begins to beat at a regular pace which matches our activity. We end up not just walking in time with each other but in harmony with each other! Heartbeats, breathing and physical movement are tuned into each other and we come closer together than we would come if we were simply sitting next to each other. What other activities end up with you matching another person’s movement, breathing and heartbeat?
Don’t answer that!
Playing music, singing and dancing together are the ones I was going to suggest!
Anyway, I found the whole day very enjoyable and am glad that Alison and I are now full members of that wonderful organisation. We also look forward to walking with many new friends over the coming months.
So much to do, but so much to look forward to as well!
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