The Flying Pilgrim

"When we are no longer children, we are already dead." ~~Konstantin Brancusi

The marvelous thing about being a child is that we are free to question, or at least we should be. Children have such a delightfully unaffected openness to everything; they naturally wonder about all they encounter. But somewhere along the line, they -- we -- come to believe that instead of being here in this life to learn, we're here to know and to have all the answers already. What a shame! With that kind of outlook, we have already set ourselves up to preclude further learning.

That, I discovered, is the purpose of pilgrimage. It is an opportunity to step back into the Great Metaphor of Life. Life itself is Pilgrimage. We truly are here on a journey. It is a voyage of constant discovery, of pitfalls, mistakes, corrections, adjustments and moving on--or it should be. We aren't here to be perfect already--although we are meant to be headed in that direction--but to be ourselves.

We are here to learn how to let go of fear and embrace Love. To turn away from hatred and turn towards Forgiveness. To abandon despair and take up Faith and Hope. To say 'no' to animosity and 'yes' to Peace. To stop looking down and start looking up--to learn how to fly.

It was a lifelong time dream of mine to visit Santiago de Compostela. 'Santiago' is Spanish for Saint James (the Great) and refers to the apostle who came to this part of Spain to preach and convert. He was eventually martyred in Jerusalem, but his body was brought back to the city for burial. It was this fact which led to the city's designation as one of the three holy cities* during the Middle Ages. The two other Christian Holy Cities are Rome and Jerusalem. (I had been under the impression that Canterbury in England was at one time considered a Christian Holy City but have not been able to confirm that to date.)

Santiago lies in the far northwestern corner of the Spanish Iberian peninsula very near the Atlantic Ocean. Travel to Santiago was extremely long, harsh and dangerous for traditional pilgrims which is precisely why they went. Peregrinos is the Spanish word for pilgrims and in both languages it means the same thing, 'one who travels to a foreign land, a shrine or a holy place as an act of devotion'.

Why do it? Why put yourself through something like it? Speaking from personal experience, pilgrimages are not "fun". Although my own journey was a thousand times easier than what medieval wayfarers encountered, still it was no picnic. We were up before six most mornings and slept in a different bed almost every night. I probably had second degree sunburn most of the trip, was constantly constipated, had huge bruises from slamming my suitcases into myself, got by on five or six hours of sleep a night, had breakfast at six or seven, often little-to-no lunch and dinner at eight or nine in the evening. We waited in long lines everywhere we went, and were constantly shoved and pushed by our fellow travelers who were trying to get to the same places as we were--all of us competing for limited resources and running on fatigue. Bathrooms were disgustingly dirty after long frustrating waits and often had no locks. Water had to be purchased. Fresh fruit was of poor quality, expensive or non-existent. Not knowing the language, customs, often where we were, missing our families, showers that didn't work and/or flooded bathrooms--not life-threatening certainly, but it begins to wear after two weeks.

Still, since I have returned, I have been reading what those who have walked El Camino de Santiago or 'The Way of St. James' had to deal with and I know I had it easy. Very easy! I was blessed. In fact, at times I was even a little (although not much) envious of those who did walk the Camino.

But as my dear husband likes to say, 'God doesn't call us all to be Mother Teresa'. For some of us, it is challenge enough to be ourselves. Indeed!

To be a 'flying pilgrim' is still to be a sojourner, to be a seeker after God's Truth. On my trip to Santiago, I found this little gem of a children's book, by Lawrence Schimel, The Flying Pilgrim. It is a sweet little book which tells the story about El Camino de Santiago from the perspective of a little swallow who sees the pilgrims arriving to his city and wonders what all the fuss is about. He flies backwards from Santiago east to the beginning of the way, learning as he goes, what the journey of pilgrimage is all about.

I don't know why I bought the book; I don't really have anyone to give it to right now. But everyone on my tour certainly enjoyed passing it around and reading it. So I suppose we are all still children at heart. I guess I'll just hold on to the book for now. We were only allowed fifty pounds of luggage on our pilgrimage so I didn't buy hardly anything on my trip--just rosaries and holy cards for friends which I have mostly given away. And this book, for the child in me.

The good thing I suppose is that it shows I am still a child and therefore not dead...yet--but still searching and trying to discover what purpose God has for me in this life. I did not walk the Way of St. James, but I suppose I could call myself a 'Flying Pilgrim'.



*Pope Alexander III declared Santiago a 'Holy City' and war against the Moor a crusade which would reward the fallen with a 'martyr's crown.'