Arrival: Holy Week
The traveler has important tasks upon arriving to their final destination. Because the entire journey has been intentionally marked and prayerfully pondered, so must the arrival. This is the time to surround yourself with prayers, poems and hymns that anchor your place and provide the touchstone for this final experience.
We ride into our beloved Jerusalem, the sacred destination of our wanderings these past many weeks. Here we will shout our hopeful hosannas, weep with unexpected sorrow, and celebrate our ultimate Answer. As we look about this place of our arrival, do we feel compelled to echo the behaviors of Jesus as he walked through the expectant streets towards Calvary? What do you feel when you look across your living landscapes, when you touch your city's wealthy and impoverished walls, when you are carried away in the lofty cathedrals? Do you feel joy? Do you pray? Do you weep? Jesus, you wept for the city you loved - in your words and actions the oppressed found justice and the angry found release.... (prayer heading used on Iona)
The traveler has important tasks upon arriving to their final destination. Because the entire journey has been intentionally marked and prayerfully pondered, so must the arrival. This is the time to surround yourself with prayers, poems and hymns that anchor your place and provide the touchstone for this final experience. Phil Cousineau speaks to the essential task of "feeling the thrill of completing your pilgrimage...If we remember that the word thrill originally referred to the vibrations the arrow made when it hits the target, than the pleasure is compounded. There is joy in having arrived, moment by moment." We have come far on this Lenten pilgrimage; we have sacrificed, we have given, we have changed.
There is deep value in going through this seasonal process for what began in our winter, has now come to completion in our spring. With fresh, vibrant colors surrounding us, we too see the contexts of our lives with fresh new eyes. We hear with a new kind of clarity. With this sense of lucidity, comes both gratitude and responsibility. The appreciation for the lessons learned on the long journey translates to a new sense of obligation, a fresh response of advocacy. We have come to love more deeply in this season and like Jesus, we weep with the depth of this love for Others and we know we cannot return to pre-pilgrimage ways. We have been changed by the wintery road, and subsequently, so will be our home-lives. New growth has sprung from the soil of the sojourn. How to respond to our changedness may seem overwhelming; in these moments we must pray and pray according to the lessons learned.
Today I share with you a beautiful Holy Week prayer written by the Iona Community's Neil Paynter. These beseeching words seem a fitting response to the Lenten Labyrinth where we have seen and witnessed the pain and suffering of our deepest selves, which is the pain of so many others. May this prayer be yours today as you anchor into the ancient and present meanings of these most holy days.
Visionary God, architect of heaven and earth, unless we build in partnership with you we labor in vain
Help us work to create cities modeled more faithfully on the plan of your Kingdom -
Communities where children are respected and encouraged where young people can express themselves creatively where the experience of old people is called on where the insights and gifts of all God's people are fully realized where shared gardens and plots bloom in once derelict places where all cultures and traditions are honored and celebrated on soulful, carnival streets where gay couples can dance to the beat of their hearts homeless people are received with loving arms and open borders news vendors cry Hosanna! All are fed and loved and set free...
O God, our maker, open our eyes to new possibilities and perspectives, organizations and projects, structures and outlooks...
Help us to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem:
to break down the barriers in ourselves that prevent us from reaching out to neighbors and making peace; to rebuild communities based on understanding and justice, illuminated with the true light of Christ.
Amen
-Neil Paynter
Labyrinth-The Lorica as Light
As we journey through life, we each come to, and through, seasons of great challenge and often despair. From the time we are children, we face the fears of monsters-real and imaginary-and the dark. We come up against the things that cause us to cringe and curl away from our castles in the air. And we are reminded that in many ways, we are very much like Max, the cajoling, contrary little boy in Maurice Sendak's story Where the Wild Things Are.
As we journey through life, we each come to, and through, seasons of great challenge and often despair. From the time we are children, we face the fears of monsters-real and imaginary-and the dark. We come up against the things that cause us to cringe and curl away from our castles in the air. And we are reminded that in many ways, we are very much like Max, the cajoling, contrary little boy in Maurice Sendak's story Where the Wild Things Are.
In this tale, through a sequence of events that tend to happen to parents of young children between the hours of 4:00-6:00pm, our protagonist, Max, finds himself sent away to his room without supper. That night, a forest grew up in his room, and an ocean roared by, and Max boarded a boat and "sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks...to where the wild things are." These wild things "gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws," but Max tamed and ruled over them, becoming their king. Ultimately, it is clear to Max that it was time to return home. He sailed back over the same vast ocean, in the same little boat, reappearing in his same childhood home...only he found that he was immeasurably changed, even as he ate his hot supper.
Our journeys will not be without trial and darkness. What we have marked as a pilgrimage will most definitely bring us to-but always through!-turbulent oceans of fear and doubt. Just this week, popular author and pilgrim, Phil Cousineau tweeted, "When you're following your passion, threshold guardians will try to hold you back. Getting past them depends on how deep your passion goes." The image of the labyrinth is an ancient symbol for the meandering path of the soul that goes from light into darkness and emerges once again into light. The soul emanates transformed. This darkness (the wilderness) is the heart of the pilgrimage and always involves an element of inner conflict or struggle. It is the time spent within the wilderness where you meet your fears and confront them-where you come up against whatever prevents you from hearing the voice of God or living a life of compassion and generosity.[i]
We may have not be sent to our room, but we have been sent on a soulful sojourn with the promise of sacred encounters along the way and a bounty beyond belief upon our homecoming. But these "threshold guardians," these wild things, will do their best to frighten and influence us away from our goal. Young Max was wise to use power to command his fears. As we progress through the pitchy places of our pilgrimage, we find St. Patrick's timely prayer, The Lorica, and use it as a lantern to light our way.
The Lorica is also known as St. Patrick's "Breastplate" Prayer. These powerful words call out to God to protect those parts of the soul and body that would be preyed upon by evil throughout the day's ventures. These words become likened to the necessary armor that guards, but they also provide guidance as one explores their private seas. Inevitably darkness and dismay will descend on your journey. It has been said that “patience, silence, trust, and faith are venerable qualities of the pilgrim, but more important is the practice of them.” Along with these virtues, this strengthening prayer becomes the light that will illuminate the darkness and reveal that which is at your sacred center. Godspeed!
The Lorica (St. Patrick's 'Breastplate' Prayer)
I bind unto myself today The strong Name of the Trinity, By invocation of the same, The Three in One and One in Three.
I bind this day to me forever. By power of faith, Christ's incarnation; His baptism in the Jordan river; His death on Cross for my salvation; His bursting from the spicèd tomb; His riding up the heavenly way; His coming at the day of doom;* I bind unto myself today.
I bind unto myself the power Of the great love of the cherubim; The sweet 'well done' in judgment hour, The service of the seraphim, Confessors' faith, Apostles' word, The Patriarchs' prayers, the Prophets' scrolls, All good deeds done unto the Lord, And purity of virgin souls.
I bind unto myself today The virtues of the starlit heaven, The glorious sun's life-giving ray, The whiteness of the moon at even, The flashing of the lightning free, The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks, The stable earth, the deep salt sea, Around the old eternal rocks.
I bind unto myself today The power of God to hold and lead, His eye to watch, His might to stay, His ear to hearken to my need. The wisdom of my God to teach, His hand to guide, His shield to ward, The word of God to give me speech, His heavenly host to be my guard.
Against the demon snares of sin, The vice that gives temptation force, The natural lusts that war within, The hostile men that mar my course; Or few or many, far or nigh, In every place and in all hours, Against their fierce hostility, I bind to me these holy powers.
Against all Satan's spells and wiles, Against false words of heresy, Against the knowledge that defiles, Against the heart's idolatry, Against the wizard's evil craft, Against the death wound and the burning, The choking wave and the poisoned shaft, Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.
Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
I bind unto myself the Name, The strong Name of the Trinity; By invocation of the same. The Three in One, and One in Three, Of Whom all nature hath creation, Eternal Father, Spirit, Word: Praise to the Lord of my salvation, Salvation is of Christ the Lord.
Sarah York, Pilgrim Heart: The Inner Journey Home, (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2001),12.
Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are, (Harper Collins Publishers), Copyright 1963 by Maurice Sendak.
St. Patrick's Breastplate is traditionally attributed to Saint Patrick during his Irish ministry in the 5th century.
The Pilgrim's Path: Seeing the Sacred
As soon as you mark your journey as a pilgrimage, you are drawing a line in the sand transforming how you move through the world-how you see, hear and taste the world around you. And inevitably, because of this manner of intention-and because the Powers that Be know what you've done (that whole line in the sand act)-there will be things that go wrong...terribly wrong. That is simply the nature of the Pilgrim's Path; no longer can you just simply curse at an inconvenience or change in plans. There is Some One speaking to you now through the chaos. There is a Force that will derail all your best laid undertakings and ideals for this journey just so you will see things anew, afresh; just so you will see the Holy, the Mystery that is present.
“If the journey you have chosen is indeed a pilgrimage, a soulful journey, it will be rigorous. Ancient wisdom suggests if you aren’t trembling as you approach the sacred, it isn’t the real thing. The sacred, in its various guises as holy ground, art, or knowledge, evokes emotion and commotion.”
As soon as you mark your journey as a pilgrimage, you are drawing a line in the sand transforming how you move through the world-how you see, hear and taste the world around you. And inevitably, because of this manner of intention-and because the Powers that Be know what you've done (that whole line in the sand act)-there will be things that go wrong...terribly wrong. That is simply the nature of the Pilgrim's Path; no longer can you just simply curse at an inconvenience or change in plans. There is Some One speaking to you now through the chaos. There is a Force that will derail all your best laid undertakings and ideals for this journey just so you will see things anew, afresh; just so you will see the Holy, the Mystery that is present.
The purpose of the pilgrimage is to ultimately make life more meaningful. It is regarded as the universal quest for the self. Though the form of the path changes, one element remains the same: renewal of the soul. The essence of the sacred way is “tracing a sacred route of tests and trials, ordeals and obstacles, to arrive at a holy place and attempt to fathom the secrets of its power.”[i] The act of listening is emphasized here. The way of the pilgrim is one of an inner-quiet, an inner ear tuned to the subtle sounds of the Spirit while on the sacred road. And every road is sacred, as is every sidewalk, every aisle, every stoplight. You have chosen to listen and tosee the life that moves around and through you, no longer overlooking the beauty and the blessings that surround every minute of every day.
Once the acts of intention and attention are completed, the pilgrim is ready to cross the threshold. The threshold is more than an architectural detail; it is a mythological image that evokes the spirit of resistance we must pass through on our journey from all we’ve known to all that is unknown. It is the first step toward renewal.[ii] Once on the other side, Pilgrims move from ordinary time and space into sacred time and sacred space. In this reality, the meanings we associate with our normal everyday experiences are turned upside down. This isn't necessarily to over-spiritualize everything; I mean, you may really have run out of gas simply because YOU didn't fill up the tank. But, maybe...just maybe...you did run out of gas because that person who helped you...needed you as much as you needed them. Or maybe that call from a friend, or the bank, or the doctor, or the school, while inevitably inconveniencing you to whatever extent, is an augury- demanding that you slow, stop and SEE the Sacred that is on the move in your life.
“Pilgrim space has no regard for class, race, or social/economic standing. There are no more random run-ins with strangers; there are no more lucky or misfortunate moments. In sacred travel, every experience is uncanny; every contact attests to some greater plan.”
Every encounter, every eye contact, every handshake is now imbued with the potential and possibility for a sacred encounter--and rarely does God disappoint. The structures we use to define who we are in ordinary life become irrelevant. Pilgrim space has no regard for class, race, or social/economic standing. There are no more random run-ins with strangers; there are no more lucky or misfortunate moments. In sacred travel, every experience is uncanny; every contact attests to some greater plan. No encounter is without meaning. There are signs everywhere, if only we learn how to read them. Peculiar people turn into much-needed messengers. “From now,” advised Epictetus, “practice saying to everything that appears unpleasant: ‘you are just an appearance and by no means what you appear to be.’” Use the powers of your sacred imagination, the old Roman sage is saying. See behind the veil of things. Listen to the message that is between every spoken word, every gust of wind. Everything matters along the road, but what matters deeply is what is invisible and must be seen with the inner eye.[iii]
In August 2009 I, along with about 20 undergraduate students from Seattle Pacific University, were pledged to make pilgrimage to Iona, Scotland. We had departed from SeaTac airport with ease; the sun seemed to be shining upon us and our ventures. In fact, I rode the light rail to get to the airport and the station where I embarked, Columbia City Station, had an icon next to the station sign that, while overseen many times, I finally looked and it spoke to me: the image was that of a dove. Columbia City...Columbia...Columba...Colum Cille..."dove of the church"...and patron saint of Iona. Could an omen be any clearer? My heart was thrilled to begin this sacred journey! However, as it has to be with pilgrimages, this ecstasy was relatively short lived. For while we were to have but a brief layover in Philadelphia prior to our Transatlantic flight, we were stuck on the turmac for HOURS as Hurricane Bill raged all around us; lightning rods reaching from the dark sky and striking the black asphalt upon which our plane sat. Throughout this drenching downpour, our luggage sat, open to the skies...uncovered. When we picked up our backpacks in Glasgow, they were soaked, as were their contents. As were my meticulous memorandas for our retreat. Every paper of pre-planned retreat material? Saturated. Could I have cried tears of frustration? Sure! But I knew that there was a message for me in those great winds and in between each of those heavy drops of rain. I chose to laugh, and begin to listen.
Part of the importance of the road are the ones whom you happen upon along the way. It is critical to understand that while you may be on a personal pilgrimage, that you may be doing something ever-so-unique-to-you-alone during Lent, you are surrounded by others. These friends and family, yes, even these strangers will be the harbingers of many important messages to you on your way. You are not journeying alone. Shoulder up to these voices, these presences, and seek their wisdom and response. Undoubtedly they have something important to pass along your way. They may be sent to redirect you, to provide you new instructions. But you must first be able to extend a hand, make eye contact and then, listen.
Since last week's writing and sharing of my Lenten intentions, there has been something being proclaimed-nay, SHOUTED-in my ears; and quite honestly, I welcome any help from you, my journey-partners, in deciphering what I'm already supposed to be seeing. For, soon after I wrote of my love and need for the impartation of ashes, my middle son -River- became ill. Our youngest, Anna, was quickly at his heels. By our rice and bean dinner time, we were making home-made ash from remnants in our fire pit for our own house-ritual and rubbing troubled tummies at the same time.
The flu had landed at 2809 and was merciless. By Friday, Orion, our eldest, was head to toe covered in hives as his body battled the virus. By Saturday, it was evident that River had become severely dehydrated and needed to be taken to the hospital. Anna, clung to me in her lethargy, and whimpered whenever put down. It was as if a hurricane had hit our house and was pummeling us with all its worth. Sunday had us over its knee in exhaustion; this was supposed to be our Feast Day and I hadn't once worked out for 30 minutes since Lent began! This wasn't what I had intended for the start of my holy-journey at all! Despite the counters laden with crackers and cures, Joel and I had continued to eat our rice and beans and, heck! I was frustrated, tired from the unceasing vigils, and ready to feast and I had absolutely no energy to put into anything except warming up the vat of Lenten victuals in the fridge.
And then there was a knock at the door. Our associate pastor was on our porch with prayers and Pyrex in hand: hot, home-made Beef and Broccoli in Oyster Sauce was being brought to us for dinner. He extended us his hand, he looked into our eyes. He blessed River and attended to Anna. He brought care and concern from our congregation. He was a messenger. Look for the Sacred. Listen for the Message. Tears streamed down my face as love was ladled onto our plates. I leaned into the strength of someone else in my kitchen, someone else standing at my sink. I ate. I was nourished-oh so very fed!
I am freshly struck with how we just simply cannot get by in this life on our own. We cannot be parents, parishioners, pilgrims or priests without a community of care around us. This network IS our guide. These hands, these voices, these hearts, help us find our direction when the way has stormed over. When our backpacks have become too heavy from the torrential rains of the Pilgrim's road, we must find relief from other's who are sharing in this journey with us. They are here for this reason.
God has placed them on our path to provide and point the way.
“Does the road wind uphill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.”