WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
5 Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye,
10 (So priketh hem nature in hir corages:
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmers for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londes;
And specially, from every shires ende
15 Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The holy blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.
Thus begins Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, one of the gems of English, and I would daresay, world literature. I remember reading it in high school, with the bawdier parts extirpated for the sake of our innocent high school ears.
The pilgrimage to Canterbury may still be done, but it lacks the enchantment of medieval times. Or at least the physical walk to the Cathedral lacks much of the adventure it once held. Or does it? I would hypothesize that, even after Henry VIII closed the monasteries and looted their wealth and relics, the journey itself was still the goal and the ideal.
Muslims, if at all possible, pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in their lives. Other faith traditions have their own pilgrimage sites. I consider myself a Christian, so it is Christian pilgrimage that I understand best.
I recently walked the last 100K of El Camino from Sarria to Santiago and received my official certificate. That, however, was not the point. When you walk El Camino, the journey itself is the point. Martin Sheen's delightful film, The Way, captured it perfectly. You already have everything you need; the Camino reveals that truth to you.
The cathedral of St. James, if you go to the shrine and the purported tomb of St. James, is one of those thin places, a place where you feel that heaven and earth are actually touching. You feel it deep inside. It matters not at all to me who is buried there; the place is holy. I have been twice to Santiago; I felt it in my bones, despite my skepticism. Cynicism would be an even better word. Think of all the money spent to be relieved of one's supposed sins. Think of the commercialization. If there is money to be made......
Santiago, however, holds a deeper truth. You don't need a botafumeiro; that is for show. You simply need to make the journey, on foot if at all possible.
Upon my return, I realized the lectionary readings for this past Sunday included Elijah being taken up to heaven in a chariot, after his pilgrimage with Elisha, and the reading from Luke was Jesus starting his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. I thought perhaps this was some sort of joke God was playing on me. OK, not a joke but it did not feel like coincidence. Jesus encounters every excuse in the book for not dropping everything to follow him. I know; I have my own share of excuses. At times I suspect most of us think of our Sunday worship as the center of our devotion and discipleship. It is incredibly important to me and to my parishioners; but it is not the heart of the matter. Making your life a continuous journey, without excuses, is what it is about. Jesus tells us not to delay or to set priorities above that of the journey on the road to the kingdom. Don't be distracted by the lure of wealth or by those who would divert you from the kingdom. Join the heavenly throng and, when you reach heaven/Oz/Santiago you will find the giant botafumeiro there to greet you (not to mention God/the wizard/St. James).
El Camino did change me; I now and forever see myself as on the journey to Jerusalem. It is work but it is full of all the wonders of the kingdom of God, which perhaps is right here and right now. You just have to, as Joyce Rupp says, walk in a relaxed manner.
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