The Feast Day of Saint James

Today we celebrate the life of James, one of the 12 disciples, the first to be martyred (Acts 12:1 tells us by Herod's sword). He's known as James the Greater (to distinguish him from James the Lesser, James the son of Alphaeus). He's the brother of John. He was one of the first to join Jesus, and Jesus chose him to go up the mountain to witness the Transfiguration. He is the patron saint of veterinarians and pharmacists, among others.

Lately, I've heard more about St. James, as more people become aware of the pilgrimage that involves walking to his shrine in Santiago de Campostela in Spain from a variety of starting points. Walkers who cover 100 km or cyclists who cover 200 km get a compostela, a certificate, and a blessing.

St. James is associated with scallops, and if you look at a map, you'll see that the pilgrims arriving from a variety of beginning points to the same end point does look like a scallop shell. There are now travel agencies that will help pilgrims, but I've been told that it's not hard to set up one's own journey. There are all sorts of lodgings along the way, all sorts of support.

In 2023, I finally saw the Martin Sheen/Emilio Estevez movie, The Way, which features this pilgrim's path. I'd love to actually walk part of it, but it seems increasingly unlikely. But life has taught me never to say never. If I could go on the Santiago or Iona, I'd probably choose Iona, but who says I would have to choose.

I'm not the only one who finds the idea intriguing. In 1985, only 690 pilgrims made it to the end point, the Cathedral of Santiago de Campostela; recently, 179,919 pilgrims completed the journey. The most hardcore pilgrims walk barefoot. I would not be one of those pilgrims.

A few years ago, one of my good church friends figured out how to walk part of the Santiago de Campostela, how to make sure her pets and children were taken care of for 2 weeks, and off she went with her husband. I found her journey so inspiring. She kept a blog while walking and has continued to keep writing posts in her "regular" life.

Let us remember that we're all on a variety of pilgrimages, even if we're not leaving the house. Let us remember that God is with us.

Week-End Update: Cooking and Other Types of Mood Management

In some ways, it was a good week-end.  Sunday at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee went well, the kind of Sunday where I find myself wishing this position as a Synod Appointed Minister could continue for several more years.  It might, but much of that decision will not be up to me.

It was the kind of week-end where I hear about the travel plans of neighbors and feel a weird sense of emotion.  It's not envy, exactly.  They're taking a 10 day walk across England, 7-8 miles a day, carrying everything they need on their backs, following the same path that the pilgrim's in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales traveled.  They are at least 10 years older than I am, maybe 15.  It's the kind of plan that makes me wonder if I should retire/work less now rather than later.  But I am not sure we could make this kind of trek now.  For one thing, the long airline flight to get there is a dealbreaker for me.  And my spouse would need a very flat route, and he would need to do some training to be ready for even a flat route.

So, not envy, but the kind of feeling I have had so often in my life, wondering what is wrong with me that I don't want what so many other people seem to want.  In the above paragraph, it's vacation plans and bucket lists.  I look at the larger culture, particularly the desire to have the latest cell phone and hours to spend scrolling, and I don't feel like something is wrong with me.  I do worry about the health of the larger culture, particularly when I stumble across particularly disturbing information about what tech is doing to our brains.

I organized a cookie tasting for our neighborhood group, and I tried to make a recipe, pecan sandies, from childhood.  As with the chocolate chip cookies I've tried to make, the butter seemed to melt outside the cookie and fry it.  Not untasty, but not the memory of the cookie.  And there was that distressing moment when I said, "I can't cook anymore."  A ridiculous thought, but a distressing one.

Yesterday, though, we had great success making pizza with cast iron pans.  Before putting them in the oven, I turned the burner to medium heat for 3 minutes, as recommended by this blog post from King Arthur Baking Company.  It was the first time since being in this house when we've had a good homemade pizza.  My usual experience is to go through all the effort to make homemade pizza, only to be left with a mess of a kitchen and a blah pizza and a yearning for pizza from somewhere else. 

Yesterday as we ate pizza, we watched the recording of the Sunday worship service at the National Cathedral.  The service was beautiful, and once again, I found myself observing a strange mood evolving in me.  There was some nostalgia for the year I spent in seminary, where I went to the Cathedral occasionally.  I felt nostalgia and wistfulness and sadness for a time that is gone and won't be coming back.  I felt fortunate to have had the experiences and the opportunities and at the same time, I know what I had planned to do with that time in the city and the ways I fell short.  I tried to keep focused on what I did manage to do.  

When the worship service was over, we switched to Saturday Night Live snippets, so it was easier to manage my mood.  And then it was off to bed; I've been going to sleep increasingly earlier, and I feel like I need to get back on a more reasonable track.

The Feast Day of Saint James

Today we celebrate the life of James, one of the 12 disciples, the first to be martyred (Acts 12:1 tells us by Herod's sword). He's known as James the Greater (to distinguish him from James the Lesser, James the son of Alphaeus). He's the brother of John. He was one of the first to join Jesus, and Jesus chose him to go up the mountain to witness the Transfiguration. He is the patron saint of veterinarians and pharmacists, among others.

Lately, I've heard more about St. James, as more people become aware of the pilgrimage that involves walking to his shrine in Santiago de Campostela in Spain from a variety of starting points. Walkers who cover 100 km or cyclists who cover 200 km get a compostela, a certificate, and a blessing.

St. James is associated with scallops, and if you look at a map, you'll see that the pilgrims arriving from a variety of beginning points to the same end point does look like a scallop shell. There are now travel agencies that will help pilgrims, but I've been told that it's not hard to set up one's own journey. There are all sorts of lodgings along the way, all sorts of support.

In 2023, I finally saw the Martin Sheen/Emilio Estevez movie, The Way, which features this pilgrim's path. I'd love to actually walk part of it, but it seems increasingly unlikely. But life has taught me never to say never. If I could go on the Santiago or Iona, I'd probably choose Iona, but who says I would have to choose.

I'm not the only one who finds the idea intriguing. In 1985, only 690 pilgrims made it to the end point, the Cathedral of Santiago de Campostela; last year 179,919 pilgrims completed the journey. The most hardcore pilgrims walk barefoot. I would not be one of those pilgrims.

A few years ago, one of my good church friends figured out how to walk part of the Santiago de Campostela, how to make sure her pets and children were taken care of for 2 weeks, and off she went with her husband. I found her journey so inspiring. She kept a blog while walking and has continued to keep writing posts in her "regular" life.

Let us remember that we're all on a variety of pilgrimages, even if we're not leaving the house. Let us remember that God is with us.

The Feast Day of Saint James

 Today we celebrate the life of James, one of the 12 disciples, the first to be martyred (Acts 12:1 tells us by Herod's sword). He's known as James the Greater (to distinguish him from James the Lesser, James the son of Alphaeus). He's the brother of John. He was one of the first to join Jesus, and Jesus chose him to go up the mountain to witness the Transfiguration. He is the patron saint of veterinarians and pharmacists, among others.

Lately, I've heard more about St. James, as more people become aware of the pilgrimage that involves walking to his shrine in Santiago de Campostela in Spain from a variety of starting points. Walkers who cover 100 km or cyclists who cover 200 km get a compostela, a certificate, and a blessing.

St. James is associated with scallops, and if you look at a map, you'll see that the pilgrims arriving from a variety of beginning points to the same end point does look like a scallop shell.  There are now travel agencies that will help pilgrims, but I've been told that it's not hard to set up one's own journey.  There are all sorts of lodgings along the way, all sorts of support.

In May, I finally saw the Martin Sheen/Emilio Estevez movie, The Way, which features this pilgrim's path. I'd love to actually walk part of it, but it seems increasingly unlikely. But life has taught me never to say never.  If I could go on the Santiago or Iona, I'd probably choose Iona, but who says I would have to choose.

I'm not the only one who finds the idea intriguing. In 1985, only 690 pilgrims made it to the end point, the Cathedral of Santiago de Campostela; last year 179,919 pilgrims completed the journey. The most hardcore pilgrims walk barefoot. I would not be one of those pilgrims.

A few years ago, one of my good church friends figured out how to walk part of the Santiago de Campostela, how to make sure her pets and children were taken care of for 2 weeks, and off she went with her husband.  I found her journey so inspiring.  She kept a blog while walking and has continued to keep writing posts in her "regular" life.  

Let us remember that we're all on a variety of pilgrimages, even if we're not leaving the house.  Let us remember that God is with us.

Seeing "The Way" on the Big Screen

On Sunday May 7, I drove from seminary housing to our Lutheridge house, and I listened to Rick Steves' radio program that airs on NPR.  When I first heard the episode, I thought it was an old one--why else would they be talking about the movie, The Way?  I was delighted to learn that the movie was being re-released.

It was only for one day, May 16, one show at my local movie theatre, only being shown at about 1,000 movie theatres across the country.  I made myself a note, but I didn't buy a ticket, because much can happen.  Happily, I was able to get to the theatre and see the movie:  I showed up at 6:20 p.m. and bought one of the last 5 remaining tickets.  I also treated myself to a large popcorn and a large soda, because I so rarely go to see a movie in a theatre, and I wanted the full treatment.

I hadn't seen the movie before, but I had meant to.  And these days, it seems unlikely I will get to Spain and hike the Camino de Santiago, so experiencing it this way had enormous appeal.  It was just what I hoped, and also not exactly what I expected.

There were lovely views of villages and landscapes.  It gave me a sense of how it feels to walk the Camino, although I did notice that no one sweated much and no one had bloody feet.  While the pilgrims didn't always get along, I didn't have the kind of worry I might have had with a more traditional Hollywood treatment of people on a hike, fears of violence and rape.

I was waiting for epiphanies, for wailing and weeping, and happily, this movie also avoided those kinds of typical Hollywood elements.  While there was character growth, the main character (played by Martin Sheen) was never going to transform into someone who spews emotions and tears in a typical way.  There was not deep conversation, but the pilgrims grow closer, simply through walking.

There wasn't as much in spiritual terms as I was expecting.  Not one of the main characters walks the Camino for the spiritual reasons one might expect.  But that was fine with me.  There was a bit of spirituality here and there.  I do wonder if a viewer had no understanding of the Camino or of pilgrimage or of Christianity if the spiritual/religious/Christian bits would make sense.

One of the characters was a writer, walking because of writer's block, and he becomes unblocked.  The movie had a bit more about creative/journaling process than I was expecting, not much, but a bit.

As I watched them walk, I thought about my own backpacking days.  I thought about this Facebook post that I made on Saturday:  " The air this morning (rain coming, heat coming) takes me back to Girl Scout camp, that summer when I was a backpacking counselor, back before cell phones, where we were dropped off at one point of the Appalachian Trail, and 22 rugged miles later, we'd be picked up at a different point later in the week. Three young women, including me, in charge of a group of younger women, carrying everything we needed on our backs. Why have I ever been scared of anything since then? I should feel more invincible."  That summer was 1984--wow.  

After the movie, there was a 30 minute conversation between Emilio Estevez, Martin Sheen, and Rick Steves.  It repeated some of the material from their interview on the NPR program, but it was also different enough to keep me there.  I so appreciate the themes that these 3 men embraced and discussed, themes of family, religion/spirituality/Christianity, what it means to be a man, travel, and community.

I feel lucky to have had a chance to have this experience and lucky that I didn't have to travel far to do it.  If the movie had been showing at a theatre at the far side of Asheville, I would have probably wimped out.  And even though it was near to me, in a new commercial development designed to make us all feel like we're in some village, I did have trouble finding my way back to the main road.  This development has been there at least 10 years--why is there not more signage?  How did I get turned around?  It was dark and rainy.

But happily, I saw the very small sign marked "private road," turned around and followed a car which got me back to the main road.  I did have my cell phone, which could have gotten me back to the main road, maybe.  I didn't feel scared or aggravated, so much as bemused.

Perhaps it was knowing that I wasn't too far away from regular civilization--the roads were paved, after all, if not well marked, and there were streetlights, which led me to think that I would eventually find a main road.

Or perhaps it was a left over bit of movie magic.  Perhaps I kept a sense of perspective because I had just spent 2.5 hours thinking about pilgrimage.

Traveling to Find the Goddess Within and Without

I spent the last few days reading Traveling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor.  It's an interesting joint memoir by a mother and a daughter, each one writing alternate chapters, and it chronicles a time when both of them are at loose ends in terms of what to do next with their lives.

Now you likely know Sue Monk Kidd as the woman who wrote The Secret Life of Bees, but at the time covered by this memoir she has yet to write the book.  She has a desire to be a novelist, but she's doubtful that she can pull it off. She's gone to a writer's conference where she had a famous author dismiss her idea and an agent ask for the manuscript when she writes it.  In addition, she's just turned 50 and works to accept that she will not live forever.

Her daughter has just finished undergraduate school.  She has a vision of grad school that's been dashed because she didn't get into the program.  She can't decide what to do.

The narrative arc is familiar to many of us who are familiar with life cycles.  But this book also shows how the arc is a spiritual one, not just a psychological one.  The women travel to sacred sites in Greece and France, and they encounter powerful examples of goddesses and Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Both women use these images from myth and Christianity to help them find their way.  It's a compelling look at how we might do the same.

I come out of a religious tradition that during my lifetime has been supportive of women.  I can imagine what a liberating experience this book might be if one came out of a more repressive tradition.  Or perhaps it would be terrifying.

I also come out of an academic tradition (Ph.D. in British Literature) that has explored these ancient symbols in all sorts of ways, so their explorations didn't seem radical to me.  For people who don't know this history, I can imagine that the book would be a revelation.

It's a great book for an uplifting read.  It's not unrealistic:  we watch these characters wrestle with these issues across many pages and months.  But it has a message that we need to hear:  we deserve to feel love, we deserve to feel good about ourselves, and it's not too late to become the person the world (and God) needs us to be.

For those of us in liturgical traditions, it's a great book to read in conjunction with the baptism of Christ.  We will be hearing that God is pleased--even before Jesus has done a thing.  In our hyperactive, must-do-more world, it's a message we could stand to hear regularly.

The Feast of Saint Columba Inspires Thoughts of Pilgrimage

Today we celebrate the life of Saint Columba, one of the great early Irish Christians, whom some would give credit for spreading Christianity to Scotland. He also helped spread literacy and founded a school for missionaries. He's one of the great monastics.

He's associated with Iona, that thin place in Scotland, a place that remains an important force in Christianity to this day. I could make a good argument that some of the most exciting music and liturgy of our current time period comes to us because Iona exists. Some day, I'll make a pilgrimage there. I should start planning this soon. It would be neat to go with my church musician mom.

As I think about it, I can think of a whole slew of friends who might also like to go. What I love about monasticism is that it isn't as offputting to non-believers and the less devout. For some reason, people just get monasticism, in a way that they can't comprehend other expressions of spirituality. Perhaps it's because monasticism is such an ancient tradition. Perhaps it's because monastics have a sort of discipline, a steel-like strength at the core, that other forms of spirituality lack. Maybe it's a holdover from the Thomas Merton days--and of course, Kathleen Norris made monasticism cool to a whole new generation (including me!). All I know is that when I tell people I'm intrigued by monasticism and that I go to monasteries, people accept that (and often want to go with me). It's a different matter when I tell people that I go to church most Sundays. People want to argue about what a waste of time that is.

Yes, I must get to Iona. I have no idea how or when. But this idea encourages me to start a list of all the spiritual places I'd like to visit before I get too old to travel. I turn 45 next month, so I figure I've got at least twenty travelling years left. Let's see, there's Iona and the areas of Germany which formed Martin Luther. There are any number of retreat centers, like Holden Village. There's the Taize community in France.

I should also create my literary pilgrimage list and see how much of my travel would be near each other. And then I could ponder the symmetries of the list, and wonder at the many paths in my life that are bringing me to the same end point.