Preparations

Robin on a late afternoon training walk

Robin and I have purchased our air tickets and made all other travel arrangements to get from Vancouver, WA, to St. Jean Pied de Port by Dec 30th. God willing we will start our second trip down the Camino Frances on Dec 31st. We have been preparing for this upcoming Camino since the day we returned from our first one, two years ago. In those many months in between much has transpired that has made us ever more aware of our call to, and appreciation of, the Camino. Suffice it to say this is where we want to be. This is where we need to be. As for the rest that is in God's hands. For our part, we have stayed in shape, reassessed our gear, avoided the burden of expectations, and made promises to be better pilgrims in all that that means. 

A stretch at Tidewater Cove, Columbia River

The simple bliss of going on pilgrimage overshadows all the conjured images of problems trying in vain to gain traction in our minds. No travelers anywhere are sheltered from adversity, but we have come to believe that although pain (adversity, discomfort, etc.) may be present suffering is optional. It is our hope, and intention, to practice this as we inch our way westward through the wintery landscape. As always, it is the understanding of the unique opportunity found in this journey that cautions us to be worthy travelers ready to compassionately share the pilgrim road, with its bounty and its bumps, with all fellow pilgrims that we encounter. The blessing of this growing pilgrim community is a shared willingness to embrace, encourage, comfort, and support all those encountered as we continue the journey. Each of us has a special role to play to make this happen. The challenge is to move along the Camino (and make our way through life) in such a manner that our inherent selfishness does not prevent us from recognizing and responding to the needs of others. I find that walking with a humble heart, open to God's grace, helps that process along nicely. But, hey, that's just me. Or, is that you, too?

Fall foliage along our walking route

Lengthening shadows at Fort Vancouver Park

A chilly (but dry) afternoon upper 40's 

Columbia River Interstate 5 crossing between Washington and Oregon

Camino thoughts 

The Road Ahead

St. Jean Pied de Port

The Pilgrim spirit remains our constant companion. Each day echoes of footfalls past join with the footfalls of our daily local walks as we joyfully recall our time on the Camino Frances. We find ourselves being nourished both in body, and spirit during these regular periods of quiet reflection and physical exertion, and are pleasantly surprised at the many Camino moments that find their way into our thoughts. If there were such a thing as a happiness meter, that could be rigged to read Camino emotion, then surely (for us) it would always be spinning the dial. The hunger to walk the Camino again has become a palpable thing that transcends a simple yearning to revisit a pleasant experience. In fact, the past two years since our departure from the Camino have proven to be a remarkable extended pilgrimage as the Spirit continues to strengthen our faith, and guide our life's journey. A little added bonus, one might say, that just surprises and amazes us.

As I reflect on this blessing a passage from Isaiah (God's poet) comes to mind, "Come, let us climb the Lord's mountain, to the house of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths...come let us walk in the light of the Lord." It is just this sense of climbing God's holy mountain to learn his ways, and discover his paths that fuels our pilgrim journey. We are urged forward, warmly cloaked with a comforting sense of peace and purpose, ready for the road ahead that now is leading us back to France where this all began (or did it).

A Death in Tehran

I recently was reminded of just how precarious life is. I was walking past a local airfield enjoying the clear, cool afternoon as I was finishing a 5 mile walk (trying to stay Camino ready). I heard the engine noise from a small plane, and looked up to see a red single engine plane, about 200 feet above the runway, climbing out of the field. I thought what a wonderful day to be in the air. Immediately the engine faltered, the plane went into a steep right hand bank, the nose of the plane fell towards the ground, and seconds later the abrupt, but surprisingly quiet, impact killed one of the two occupants.


Just a few days later my wife Robin and I were walking, once again, near the aforementioned airfield and heard the crunch of sheet metal from the roadway nearby. We ran up to the verge and looked down at a small SUV rolled over on its roof with the front end perched atop a short retaining wall. The motorists nearby already had the driver, a middle aged woman, out of the car and were treating what appeared, thankfully, to be minor injuries. 


Life is indeed precarious. In both of these stories the people began their day probably expecting it to be just like any other day. Why not? The unforeseeable is always possible but most of us choose not to give it even a passing thought. We know that unexpected and tragic things occur daily to a lot of people. However, as we are unable to forecast these things we just believe they are unlikely to happen to us by virtue of being responsible and prudent people. But, in truth we never know the day or the hour when the unexpected might overtake us. This brings me back to thoughts of present and future, and how foolish it seems to be heavily invested in the future when we only have today to deal with. Tomorrow will sort itself out if and when it comes, and hopefully it will.  But, for now finding peace with the time that we have should be sufficient. Yes, it takes a bit of work to get one's mind refocussed on the present, but the freedom from anxiety is amazing once you master this simpler approach to life. After all, what actually do we accomplish by exercising our fear. Nothing but allowing it to grow stronger and more debilitating. 


A rich and mighty Persian once walked in his garden with one of his servants. The servant cried that he had just encountered Death, who had threatened him. He begged his master to give him his fastest horse so that he could make haste and flee to Tehran, which he could reach that same evening. The master consented and the servant galloped off on the horse. On returning to his house the master himself met Death, and questioned him, “Why did you terrify and threaten my servant?” “I did not threaten him; I only showed surprise in still finding him here when I planned to meet him tonight in Teheran,” said Death. (Viktor Frankl: Man's Search for Meaning)

The Pilgrim Road

I have, lately (and yet again), been mightily distracted from this blog (my apologies) but perhaps it is just as well as the interlude has allowed me more time to think about our recent trip to Israel and what we learned from it. In our pre-Camino days travel was all about notching up experiences. I don't suppose there is anything wrong with that, but recently that mindset seems to leave us unsatisfied. Something just doesn't add up. It is interesting that as one gets older, and there is more of life behind than ahead, how a look backward can provide both clarity and wonder. It is from this look back, over many years, that a life path emerges. This at once interesting, but also somewhat unsettling as one tries to understand why one choice was favored over another.

Tomb of Jesus, Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Jerusalem

At first I thought who could know, but the more I considered it I saw how all the events of my life were woven together. This growing belief that everything happened for a purpose would have left me in a muddle had it not been for recent journeys to Spain and Israel. Maybe it started to sink in as Robin and I walked the Camino de Santiago, with its quietude, and time to reflect on our faith, and pray. Perhaps, our recent trip to the Holy Land, following the life of Jesus and his ministry from Galilee to Jerusalem, helped tie things together. But, in the end, I could see, or more truthfully feel, a clarity of purpose starting to form. I realized I was not alone (and had never been). My life, and Robin's, were uniquely purposed to fulfill a baptismal promise of God's love. We would always be with Him, and He would always be with us despite, in my case, decades of denial.

Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives

Welcome to Bethlehem

While we were in Israel we had the benefit of getting to know two extraordinary Palestinian Catholic guides, Rimon and Raouf. These men gave daily testament to their faith, not by being preachy, but rather by simply demonstrating a stunning equanimity driven by total faith in God. They, their families, and the Palestinian people have seen, and experienced, much suffering, but their faith remains unshaken. Their faith both catalyzes, and comforts them as they rise each day to greet a future rife with danger and uncertainty. It was amazing how much these two, seemingly ordinary people, affected Robin and I. We became very accustomed to watching their faith (our faith) being pushed to the forefront rather than the more usual experience of relegating faith to the rear (and be quiet about it). You don't want to offend anyone, right? Wrong! It now seems that Robin and I were led to the Holy Land not just to roll up and down the countryside gawking at landmarks, but rather to intersect with the lives of two strangers. I know that sounds strange (we had similar experiences on the Camino), but I believe we came to bear witness to the true faith of these two humble Palestinians, to gather strength and resolve for the journey ahead. Thank you, Rimon. Thank you, Raouf. All the subsequent places visited, all the holy sites seen, were wonderful experiences that brought us more intimately into the life of, and love for Jesus, but nothing compared to the invitation of those days in Bethlehem, Bethany, and Jerusalem, where the world always seems off balance, to witness, firsthand, the transforming power of God's love. The Pilgrim Road continues to provide. Who would have believed it.

Peace be with you

Where to begin

Haifa, first night in Israel

I have been trying to find the right starting point for my reflections on our recent trip to Israel. I have so many conflicting emotions that at once I want to rant and then just as quickly I want to rave. The Holy Land is simply that kind of place. At one moment you think you understand the way things work, and then you realize you don't have a clue. It is this constant uncertainty of people and place that electrifies the air creating a crackle of tension that affects everyone. You can convince yourself that you are simply a tourist/pilgrim and all is well. No worries. The local "problems" are for some other unfortunate's account. But, just as quickly that comfort evaporates when your bus is halted at a checkpoint and a young man/woman boards to check everyone out, clearly profiling according to some protocol. I guess it seems akin to any tension filled moment, anywhere in the world, when you sense trouble could suddenly erupt. That is as a close as I can get to what it feels like when traveling in Israel. The country is always on heightened alert. No attempt is made to hide it. In reality, this is probably exactly what the Israeli government wants to convey. I am not being critical of this, just noting it. The origins of the conflict and tension, are another matter. These subjects have and will continue to fill books long after we all are long gone.

But, shifting back to my pilgrim mode I have to confess that this trip was remarkable in what it accomplished. The ability to physically be present in the world Jesus knew, where his ministry unfolded, where Christianity was born was priceless. I find that the superficial impacts of visiting new places is always about the immediate experience. Understanding how that experience changes me comes later, oftentimes much later. There are generally just too many things going on during a trip to allow for any kind of meaningful thought processing. Navigating those deeper waters requires time, patience and quiet. Now that we are home I am starting to work through that, and am beginning to understand why this trip was so important. The rough edges are gradually being removed from so many thoughts. For a start, I am obviously reminded how truly thankful I am for the gift of freedom, the separation of church and state, and for the security of peace within our borders. But beyond the obvious, there, gratefully, and more importantly (to me), lies the story of the pilgrim road, our pilgrim road. Let me move onto that in my next post.

Light in the darkness

Robin and I have recently returned from the Holy Land, a nice euphemism, but one that strikes wide of the mark for truth. I began composing a post on our travels and then realized I was growing angrier and angrier. Injustice strikes a resonating cord with me. Rather than continue I paused and retreated to a text that I often find comfort in, Thomas Merton's Dialogues in Silence. Over the past few mornings as the rain and mists swirled about I huddled in front of the fire and with tea vapors rising aloft I opened this dog-eared tome and found the peace I hungered for. He writes.

"In one sense we are always traveling, and traveling as if we did not know where we were going. In another sense we have already arrived. We cannot arrive at the perfect possession of God in this life, and That is why we are traveling and in darkness. But we already possess Him by grace, and therefore, in that sense, we are dwelling in the light. But oh! How far have I to go to find You in whom I have already arrived!"


"....only save me from myself. Save me from my own, private, poisonous urge to change everything, to act with out reason, to move for movement's sake, to unsettle everything that You have ordained. Let me rest in Your will and be silent. Then the light of Your joy will warm my life. Its fire will burn in my heart and shine for your glory. This is what I live for. Amen, amen."

"...What was delivered to Moses on tablets of stone, as fruit of lightning and thunder, is now more thoroughly born in our souls as quietly as the breath of our own being."

" My hope is in what the eye has never seen. Therefore let me not trust in visible rewards. My hope is in what the human heart cannot feel. Therefore let me not trust in the feelings of my heart. My hope is in what the hand has never touched. Do not let me trust what I can can grasp between my fingers, because Death will loosen my grasp and my vain hope will be gone."


" Father, I beg You to teach me to be a man of peace and to help bring peace to the world, to study here truth and non-violence, and to have the patience and courage to suffer for truth."


Thomas Merton, Dialogues in Silence.


Peace be with you....

To the Holy Land

Church of the Holy Sepulcher

There is not a day that goes by that Robin and I do not think of returning to the Camino, and to Santiago de Compostela. I feel our compass will always point to Spain, but there is one diversion that is also beckoning, and that leads to the Holy Land. As our pilgrim journey continues to unfold, Jerusalem and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher have captured us. So, this weekend we are heading off to Israel to find our way to that church, built over the tomb where Jesus was buried. This is our first visit to the Holy Land so we have a host of other things to see and do that will fill the next couple of weeks. Happily (and thankfully), we will once again be doing what we seem to enjoy doing most, and that is simply being pilgrims in an ancient land. We have no well defined expectations, much the same as when we walked the Camino. We just feel this is a pilgrimage we need to make, and so we are off on the morning tide, so to speak. Blog updates to follow.

Church of the Holy Sepulcher