Travelling back from Uganda recently I had the opportunity to watch the film, The Way, starring Martin Sheen. It tells the story of an American eye doctor, Tom (played by Sheen), whose estranged son dies while walking the El Camino de Santiago, an ancient pilgrimage from the French Pyrenees to Spain.
Tom travels to France to recover the body, but realises there is some unfinished business, and decides instead to have the body cremated and to scatter the ashes along the route of the pilgrim way. His intention is to travel alone but circumstances dictate otherwise, and he reluctantly teams up with three others: Joos, an overweight Dutchman who wants to lose weight; Sarah, a chain-smoking American who wants to quit; and Jack, an Irish author with writer’s block who wants to rediscover his creativity.
Their journey together becomes a journey of self-discovery, in some ways a modern day version of Pilgrim’s Progress. The dialogue between the four is sharp and amusing as they rub the rough edges off each other, and whilst not overly Christian, there is enough spiritual insight in the film to make it both enjoyable and thought-provoking. The DVD comes out on October, and I can highly recommend it.
Watching the film brought to mind a book which I had read earlier in the year and really enjoyed – Pilgrimage of a Soul by Phileena Heurtz (IVP). The connection is that it is her account of her real life pilgrimage along El Camino de Santiago.
Heurtz works as co-director for an international organisation that works amongst the poorest people of the world. In 2007 she and her husband were given a sabbatical, and as part of that period determined to make a literal pilgrimage. For 33 days they walked the El Camino, and the journey became a metaphor for her of her spiritual journey, with all its ups and downs.
“Pilgrimage is a metaphor for growth and transformation,” she writes. “To grow is to progress from one place to another; to be transformed is to transition from one form to another; to embark on pilgrimage is to leave where one is and to arrive where one is not yet.”
The trials of the journey, and having the time to think, enabled Heurtz to give attention to what was happening within her soul, in particular the movement away from her false self to the discovery of her true self in Christ. It is a moving and challenging account, and I would suggest essential reading for anyone who seriously wishes to find the union between contemplative spirituality and the active life.
Which brings us to the Psalm, and one of my favourites, Psalm 84. This is essentially a pilgrim Psalm, sung by Jewish believers as they made their way to Jerusalem for one of the tree annual sacred assemblies. I have often led retreats based on these beautiful verses under the heading ‘Pilgrims Making Progress’, but for now let me remind you of verse 5: “Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.”
Here we have a reminder that each one of us is on a sacred journey or pilgrimage – the journey through life, the journey of discipleship, the inner journey of transformation. There is a path marked out for each of us, and as we walk along our particular road it is an opportunity for us to find God and our true selves.
Such a journey is never easy, and there are days when we are tempted to give up; but take heart from this film, and this book, and this verse. God will strengthen us so we can finish our journey, and bless us along the way.
Saturday 24 September 2011
Sunday 11 September 2011
The case of the headless Christ
This is a true story and was shared by an experienced missionary at a retreat I was leading recently.
The lady in question (a good Protestant) was going to a Catholic retreat Centre for a thirty day Ignatian retreat. Now anyone who puts themselves forward for such an experience is serious about following Jesus, and she most definitely is. She had geared herself up for what she expected would be a watershed experience in her Christian life, and travelled to the retreat centre in a state of high spiritual intensity.
When she arrived she was shown to the little bedroom that would be her home for the next month. As she unpacked she decided to re-arrange what little furniture there was to make it more homely. As she did so, she brushed passed a crucifix hanging on the wall above the bed, and it fell to ground with a thud. She stooped to pick it up, but was distressed to find that the head had broken off, and she was left holding a headless crucifix. Getting down on her hand and knees she saw the head had rolled like a miniature football under the bed, so she reached out and recovered it, but now she had a dilemma.
Should she replace the crucifix (now headless) on the wall, and hope that no-one noticed? Or should she hide it away in the drawer, and also hope that no-one noticed it was missing? Either way, she wondered how her Catholic friends would react to a broken crucifix, and just how serious a spiritual offence decapitating a figure of Jesus might be considered. What kind of penance might she be asked to perform?
After some internal struggle she decided the best thing would be to conceal the broken crucifix, along with the head of Jesus, in her bedside cabinet, praying that her misdemeanour would go undetected. She resolved that at the first opportunity she would go into the nearby town, buy some superglue, and re-attached the head.
It was not until almost the end of the retreat that this was possible as the daily schedule was tight and retreatants were discouraged from leaving the centre so as not to interrupt the flow of their retreat. Eventually, having procured the superglue, and having performed some minor surgery, she re-attached the head to the body and the crucifix was returned to its place on the wall. There it remains to this day, with the head intact, and only the faintest of lines to be tell where the damage had been.
As she recounted this adventure to us, we rolled with laughter, and she did too. She told us that the most important word that came to her during the retreat was this: LIGHTEN UP! Her vulnerability in telling us this story brought healing to us all, for laughter does that. As Proverbs says: ‘A cheerful heart is a good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.’ (17:22)
It wasn’t Oswald Chambers who said, ‘Beware intensity in religion’, but it could have been for it is the kind of thing he would have said. Sometimes the more zealous we are for God the more serious we become, and intensity and grace don’t mix too well. When we get intense it is usually a sign that we have moved over into self-effort and are getting into religious mode. Grace frees us to be relaxed and natural, even in our seeking after God, and to enjoy what Sheila Walsh termed ‘the incredible lightness of grace.’
May you and I seek after God with all our hearts, but do so without the intensity that robs us of our joy or playfulness.
The lady in question (a good Protestant) was going to a Catholic retreat Centre for a thirty day Ignatian retreat. Now anyone who puts themselves forward for such an experience is serious about following Jesus, and she most definitely is. She had geared herself up for what she expected would be a watershed experience in her Christian life, and travelled to the retreat centre in a state of high spiritual intensity.
When she arrived she was shown to the little bedroom that would be her home for the next month. As she unpacked she decided to re-arrange what little furniture there was to make it more homely. As she did so, she brushed passed a crucifix hanging on the wall above the bed, and it fell to ground with a thud. She stooped to pick it up, but was distressed to find that the head had broken off, and she was left holding a headless crucifix. Getting down on her hand and knees she saw the head had rolled like a miniature football under the bed, so she reached out and recovered it, but now she had a dilemma.
Should she replace the crucifix (now headless) on the wall, and hope that no-one noticed? Or should she hide it away in the drawer, and also hope that no-one noticed it was missing? Either way, she wondered how her Catholic friends would react to a broken crucifix, and just how serious a spiritual offence decapitating a figure of Jesus might be considered. What kind of penance might she be asked to perform?
After some internal struggle she decided the best thing would be to conceal the broken crucifix, along with the head of Jesus, in her bedside cabinet, praying that her misdemeanour would go undetected. She resolved that at the first opportunity she would go into the nearby town, buy some superglue, and re-attached the head.
It was not until almost the end of the retreat that this was possible as the daily schedule was tight and retreatants were discouraged from leaving the centre so as not to interrupt the flow of their retreat. Eventually, having procured the superglue, and having performed some minor surgery, she re-attached the head to the body and the crucifix was returned to its place on the wall. There it remains to this day, with the head intact, and only the faintest of lines to be tell where the damage had been.
As she recounted this adventure to us, we rolled with laughter, and she did too. She told us that the most important word that came to her during the retreat was this: LIGHTEN UP! Her vulnerability in telling us this story brought healing to us all, for laughter does that. As Proverbs says: ‘A cheerful heart is a good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.’ (17:22)
It wasn’t Oswald Chambers who said, ‘Beware intensity in religion’, but it could have been for it is the kind of thing he would have said. Sometimes the more zealous we are for God the more serious we become, and intensity and grace don’t mix too well. When we get intense it is usually a sign that we have moved over into self-effort and are getting into religious mode. Grace frees us to be relaxed and natural, even in our seeking after God, and to enjoy what Sheila Walsh termed ‘the incredible lightness of grace.’
May you and I seek after God with all our hearts, but do so without the intensity that robs us of our joy or playfulness.
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