Mary

I've been enwrapped in thoughts about Mary since Holy Week. I'm not surprised that she came into my thoughts then; for the past few years, I've experienced the Passion through her mother's eyes. It began my first Easter as a member of St. Timothy's Episcopal Church. My priest, Mary, took us through the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday. As she read Station 4: Jesus Meets His Mother, her voice broke and tears flowed, both hers and mine. Ever since, I've journeyed towards Easter with Mary, Blessed Mother of Christ. Her presence has lingered this year, though. Perhaps because I'm here in France where her fingerprints are everywhere...if only you open your eyes to see them. Any town large enough to have more than one church, invariably has one named Notre Dame...Our Lady...of something. Think of Paris. Notre Dame de Paris,Notre Dame des Victoires, Notre Dame de Lorette, Notre Dame d'Esperance, Notre Dame de Perpetual Secours, Notre Dame de Bercy, Notre Dame de la Grace...the list goes on. She is present, though, in every church here as statue or....

stained glass.

She holds her precious baby in the ruins of ancient abbeys....

She prays in the outside grottoes of tiny villages....

She watches over pilgrims as they pass through the portals of ancient fortified towns

and from the walls of the hostels where pilgrims sleep...

Look up...you may see her praying high in a niche on the wall of someone's home...

And she is frequently a presence for travelers in roadside chapels and shrines.

Mary is always there. You just have to open your eyes to see her.

My eyes are open, and I'll share what else I've seen with you in another post.

(all photos are from my travels in France 2009-2012)

Colloquy

I learned a new word this week as I continued to experience the Ignatian Prayer Adventure for Lent: colloquy.  A colloquy is an intimate conversation with God, Jesus or one of the saints at the end of your prayer time. Conversing with God and Jesus, I'm familiar with, but being a Protestant, I've never really conversed in prayer with a saint. Until I came to the Episcopal church, I'm not sure I even was much aware of saints. But having a conversation with a saint is appealing, and I've been giving it some thought. Which of the many hundreds of saints might I speak with? Here in France, the Virgin is, of course, the most popular of the saints with St. Joan of Arc and St. Therese of Lisieux running close in second place. But which saints speak to my heart? St. Jacques is my favorite. St. Jacques, the saint of the chemin or the camino. The saint of pilgrims and of seekers. And what would I say to him? "Please intercede on my behalf with the Holy Father to heal my knee, so that I, too, can walk the way to Santiago de Compostelle."

St. Foy is also a favorite. I first met her in Conques. You can see by her photo that many others pray to her as well. Her story is amazing; I've blogged about her in the past. I continue to be pulled into her mystery. I'm reading "Little Saint" by Hannah Green right now...for the third time!....because Foy has called me again to come to her. As I pray to her, my question would be "Why? why do I feel so drawn to you and your abbey church in Conques? What are you asking me to do?" When I think about St. Foy, her matrydom, and her miracles, I don't really envision her as she's shown in her chapel at Conques...all gilded and grown-up looking. My favorite image of her is as she's depicted in the church tympanum...a young girl kneeling in prayer and asking for God's blessing on her people.

Stars

"When did I stop paying attention to the stars?" I wrote these words in my journal the other morning after stepping outside in the dark pre-dawn and whispering a soft 'bonjour' to the Big Dipper hanging low in the western sky. One night earlier in the week I was startled by my friend, Orion blazing high over the bare oak tree in my back yard. When did I stop seeing these old friends, these reminders that life is Life and much more immense than me and my petty problems? When did I get so caught up in the drama of my life that I ceased looking for starry reminders of the Divine presence in all of Life? Shame on me for neglecting my friends, the stars. Shame on me for forgetting to see the Divine in all of Nature...in the glitter of sunlight on fresh snow, in the pinpricks of green pushing out of the wet soil towards spring, in the honking of strings and strings of geese finally freed from frozen winter and winging their way north. Like the graceful Canada geese, I too, feel as if I've been freed from a frozen life. I feel ready to take wing. And seeing my Creator again in Nature, I trust that He will guide and protect me on my pilgrim's path as I move toward fulfilling His plan for my life.

Where Does This Path Lead?

As I spend time reflecting on images I receive, both mentally and through my camera, I'm struck by the ones that involve walking, paths, and feet. I even take photos of floors like this one that I took inside the Notre Dame de Beaulieu church in Cucuron. I love black and white design and the beautiful pattern of the tomette tiles intrigued me. What you can't see in this photo is the cool sheen of moisture on the floor. It was a very hot day outside, but the cool, dark interior of the church caused condensation on the tiles. This 'path' led from the heavy wooden doors in the back of the church up to the altar...very predictable. The paths in my life right now are not quite so predictable. As in this photo, they fade into the shadows, and I'm not quite sure where they lead. I think about the feet that have walked this tiled path...hundreds, maybe thousands over the years. Did they know where it was leading them, or like me, did they simply put their faith and trust in God and embrace the adventure of it all? Was their path smooth and cool like this one or filled with rocky obstacles and moments of hot, sweaty terror? Are there lessons for me to learn from their  feet, their journey?

Looking for the Way

Have you ever been here before? No, I don't mean looking up at the causse along the Lot River in southwest France; I mean at that point in your life when you face something that seems almost insurmountable? When Way appears blocked or so difficult that even starting on the path takes more energy than you think you have. You need to continue your journey; where do you go from here? I feel as if I'm at this place. I'm seeking the open door, the Way I'm supposed to go. I've read Parker Palmer's book, "Let Your Life Speak" over and over. I get it... doors open, doors close. The Way forward appears or the Way behind closes and is no longer an option. Well, here I am and nothing! I know some doors that have closed, but I'll be darned if I can find a door that is opening! I've read, I've talked with people, I've explored options, I've thought and thought until I feel about brain dead. I've prayed and sat listening in Centering Prayer, I've looked for clues in Scripture, I've inventoried my gifts, talents, and abilities and objectively identified my limits. Today I have an appointment with a woman who does pastoral counseling for clergy and also Spiritual Direction. Mary, my priest, suggested I speak with her about discerning my path and possibly exploring pilgrimage. I'm open to her ideas and thoughts. Hopefully, God will speak to me through her wisdom.

Icon Update

I decided to sleuth around a bit on Google to see if I could find my 'pilgrim' icon. While I didn't find the exact image, I did find a few icon images of Mary robed in red with the same design on the cloth. Most of the Mary images show her with Jesus, but there are a few, like mine, that show her alone. So, perhaps my icon is Mary? Here's one I found while Googling that is similiar to my icon.

Walk Like A Pilgrim

I spent most of yesterday at the Confirmation Class retreat at Wesley Woods. All the mentors were invited to join their Confirmands as they discussed their faith statements, played Episcopal Jeopardy, and shared worship experiences at other churches and synagogues. I anticipated having a fun day, and I wasn't disappointed. I also anticipated being so engaged with the activities that I could take a rest from my mental tug-of-war between making a safe, sane decision about employment and my inner 'pilgrim' who is urging me to take a different path. God had a different idea, tho. One of the activities we did together was a silent walk around the retreat grounds. We were instructed to walk slowly and listen for God speaking to us. Fully expecting to 'hear' God in the beautiful snowscapes, clear blue sky and the deep evergreen woods, I was surprised when I noticed my mind humming "Ultreia," the pilgrim anthem. At first, I tried to re-focus my naughty inner pilgrim, but then I decided that maybe this was God's voice after all. By the end of our walk, I had planned a walking pilgrimage to Conques for myself, puzzled over how to invite others, and decided on questions and activities for the chemin. Now the work begins on how to make this daydreaming with God a reality.

This video is of a French man singing the Chant de pelegins de Compostelle ( Pilgrim's Anthem, as I call it) somewhere on the path. The elderly man next to him is Icelandic author, Thor Vilhjalmsson.
Here is the rough translation of what he's singing....
"Every morning we take the path, every morning we go further. Day after day we are called to the road by the voice of Compostelle.
Ultreia, ultreia! (forward, forward).We go higher, God help us!

My Pilgrim's Icon

I'm telling my 'Pilgrim Imposter' story over at Musings From Red Bell Farm. The pilgrim cell that I stayed in at the Church hostel was decorated with only this icon on the wall. Not being very familiar with icons, I have no idea who this Saint is. I can't even tell if it's a man or a woman. At first I thought it might be Mary, Mother of Jesus, but I think most images of her show her robed in blue, not red. My photo doesn't capture the rest of the picture; that may have given me a clue to this Saint's identity. Whoever he/she is, I felt very blessed by their presence. As I lay in bed, the eyes of this icon looked directly at me. Do you know who this Saint is?

Signs on the Pilgrim Path

As I began the 'pilgrimage on my journey to discovery' in my online class, I was instructed to take contemplative walks this week with my camera in hand. So...off Lucie and I went to walk on our road, the one we walk on nearly every day. And what begged to be seen? Not animal tracks in the fresh snow, not lovely ice crystals or drifted cornices of blown snow, not even the dried reminders of last summer's beautiful wildflower displays. No, what popped out to me were signs! "Sign, sign, everywhere a sign, blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind!" (for those of you not quite as old as I am...those are lyrics from a 1970 song by the Five Man Electrical Band). Why does this minimally maintained dirt road need all this signage? and why can't I seem to find a single sign indicating I'm on the right Path, the Way, the chemin de pelerin?? Maybe I'm looking too hard. Maybe I need to 'soften my gaze' as my instructor suggests and let the Signs find me. I don't know; what do you think?

Pilgrimage Everywhere!

 I'm currently enrolled in an online class on photography. I tried another online class earlier this year that didn't work so well for me. This one, however, has engaged me from my very first email. It's not about taking better photos, learning camera techniques, or marketing what I create. It's about finding the images that are begging me to see them, to record them, and to pray them into an expression of my creativity and spirituality. My first assignment is to take 'contemplative walks' this week with my camera and to 'imagine that I am heading out on a pilgrimage which is a journey of discovery. There it is once again....pilgrimage....I can't seem to get away from it no matter where I go! I did a contemplative walk yesterday with Lucie. Today I'll go into St.Charles and try a walk there. We'll see what images I discover. I'll be sharing some of this pilgrimage journey with you here during the next 6 weeks.

A Pilgrim

My Webster's dictionary defines a pilgrim as 'one who journeys to foreign lands.' This is a definition that could suit me well: I've been to Canada, Mexico, and France. The second definition Webster offers could define me as well: 'one who travels to a shrine or a sacred place as a devotee.' After all, it's impossible to be in France and not trip over a church several times a day, and I find them all fascinating. When my dictionary goes on to talk about pilgrimage, the comparison becomes even more interesting. 'A journey to a sacred place' and secondly, 'the course of life on earth.' I feel strongly that I am such a pilgrim, that I am on this pilgrimage to sacred places and that this somehow has become my course in life. Here stands St. Jacques (St. James the Greater) in the south transept of the great Abbey Church at Conques in southwest France. His walking staff, robes, and hat emblazoned with the scallop shell that identifies the pilgrim mark him as the saint of pilgrims. His venerated bones at Santiago de Compostele in Spain are housed at  the shrine that is the goal of pilgrims on his Way, the Chemin de St. Jacques. Pilgrims light a candle to him in the elegant Romanesque church that anchors the beautiful village of Conques, asking him for safe travels. Here is where I first discerned that I am a pilgrim; here is where I begin my pilgrim's stories.

Rocamadour

It's hard to avoid churches and pilgrimage sites when you visit France. Religion has played a huge part in the history of this country and is still an important part of its patrimony. This photo is from my visit to Rocamadour, a major pilgrimage site on the way to Santiago de la Compostela in Spain. Several of France's kings made pilgrimage to this holy place that has roots as far back as the 7th century. A pilgrim wishing to do penitence would ascend these stairs on his knees, praying the rosary at each step. There are 287 steps to the church of the Black Virgin at the top. I can only wince in imagined pain at the toll these steps took on the pilgrims' knees!

While there are many other churches in France that have a Black Virgin, the one at Rocamadour is one of the most famous. To me, she is also the most beautiful. The dim light in the church made it hard to get a good photo, but I hope you can appreciate how special she is. In some ways this trip feels like my pilgrimage. I'm still not sure exactly where this pilgrimage is leading me or just what God's plan is in all this sacred exploration and spiritual beauty. Maybe the early pilgrims weren't sure either. My prayer is that I, like them, can find my way to what God intends.