From an essay by Laurie Demett, former chair of the Confraternity of St. James, given at a gathering of pilgrims in 2005. The Confraternity is a non-denomination charity founded in 1983 to bring together people interested in the historic pilgrimage to Santiago de Compestela, in northern Spain. They publish pilgrim guides and run a hostel on the Camino Real. Laurie writes,

“There is an old saying that one’s pilgrimage does not end in Santiago. It begins there, and I’m sure all of us have discovered the truth of that through experience. We return to the lives we left; we are the same, yet not the same; we have gained new perspectives; our experience has reaffirmed some fundamentals that we knew all along. The values we came to appreciate on the Camino transcend all the barriers of age, language, race, religion, economic status, and educational level. The world, our society so often seems at odds with those values. To me, the pilgrimage to Santiago offers a hopeful vision of how things might be different.

And secondly: Elemental Haikus by Torrey Philemon

The four elements; Fire, earth, air, and water. Let them be your guides.

FIRE

Singed by light and fire? Like a moth to the flame? Then let the past burn.

EARTH

Buried underground? Weighted down by life’s demands? Dig roots into soil.

AIR

Scattered by the wind? Let yourself be blown apart. You will become whole.

Flying far too high? Lost sight of the earth? Glide on. Wing your way toward God.

WATER

Battling with fog? Do not resist. Cling to the ground or soar above.

Dragged under water? Sing deep. Surrender to grief. You will rise again.

Homily: Pilgrimage: An Elemental Journey

A pilgrimage is a sacred journey, usually to a venerated site believed to be holy. The sources of the word “pilgrim” mean both “a stranger” and “one who is leaving.” Not merely a traveler or wanderer, a pilgrim separates from his or her ordinary, everyday world to become “a stranger passing through” on the way to an infinity of possibilities. Whatever the destination, whatever the stated purpose for the journey, the pilgrim expects to return changed, transformed, more profoundly him or herself. You might say that the pilgrim braves the elements – for most pilgrimages proceed out of doors – to reconnect with her or his most essential elements of self – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Pilgrimage is part of all great religions throughout human history and to this very day – April 9, 2005, in Reston, Virginia. Whatever the pilgrim’s beliefs, pilgrimage is an expression of one’s faith in the divine, or in connections to the earth and to all life, in the potential for spiritual growth, or in the power of the human spirit to achieve grace and transformation. On pilgrimage, one can seek inspiration, enlightenment, guidance, forgiveness, healing, or peace.

There are endless choices for the pilgrim as he or she travels in time and space. The sacred journey may last brief moments, a day, a week or month or year, or a lifetime. The journey may be only within or to the farthest reaches of the planet. The pilgrim may travel alone, in a group, or as one among millions. There is no one to say, though many have tried, what the pilgrimage must look like, what must be the goal or result of the journey for each one of us. Those definitions lie within the honest heart of each pilgrim; one carries one’s own truths on each step of the way.

Rather than a didactic lecture on the facts about the history and scope of pilgrimage, this morning I would like to share with you three things: The first is an account of my 2003 pilgrimage. Actually it was our journey because I was fortunate to share this spiritual adventure with my husband Edward, though I can really describe only my own experiences. I shall also tell you about my response to a tourist site in Provence, the Cathedral d’Images, or the Cathedral of Images. And, finally, I would like all of us to share a brief pilgrimage right here in this sacred space on this special morning.

Our journey on the Camino Real or the Way of St. James began for us in Provence, and the first destination was to be Santiago do Compestela in northern Spain. This particular pilgrimage has been described for over a thousand years. Myth taught that after Jesus’ death, the disciples divided up the known world into missionary zones for proselytizing and conversion. James, the brother of John, and one of Jesus’ closest friends, traveled to the Iberian Peninsula, where he preached and performed miracles, until his return to Jerusalem, where he was beheaded. His body was returned to Spain by his followers, where it was “discovered” 800 years later and was encrypted in the Cathedral at Santiago. For all the centuries since, pilgrims have journeyed from all over Europe to Spain. One of the most famous routes begins at Notre Dame in Paris.

The Provencal route began in St. Giles, where our trip that was planned almost as a lark began to have the feel of real pilgrimage. Of course, we weren’t real pilgrims, walking or riding horseback on the Way, but as we stopped at each site along the route, across the south of France, over the Pyrenees in a snow shower, and day-by-day across northern Spain, I gained a kinship with the true, sometimes robed and sandled pilgrims we waved to as we passed. We knew them by the scallop shells they wore on their backpacks, and by the time I finally bought my own scallop shell in the plaza outside the cathedral, though I hadn’t truly earned my badge of pilgrimage, I knew myself to be changed by the Way.

We arrived at the Cathedral, right at 12:00 noon on All Saints Day, November 1, 2003, and joined the hundreds of worshippers inside. All the columns were circled with leaning backpacks bearing the now familiar scallop shell and flanked by the tall walking sticks that distinguished the real pilgrim from the mere observers. And yet --- by the end of the mass, with the famous closing ritual, all those differences among us were erased.

To end the service, 5 or 6 red-robed priests gathered around a huge bright brass, filigreed incense burner, in front of the altar, that was attached by ropes to the faraway dome. At some unseen signal, the priests began pulling on the ropes, and the censer began swinging over our heads far out into each arm of the cathedral. With each mighty swing, the incense smoke poured out and over the worshippers who sighed aloud over and over, “Oooh! Oooh!” On each excursion from the left to right and right to left, the great censer seemed to pause ever so briefly in front of the altar, where a shaft of light from a high window turned it to a great golden orb.

No words can adequately describe the bright spectacle, and no belief in God, Jesus, or St. James was required to transfix me with awe and strange joy, as the hairs on the back of my neck and head arose, and goose bumps covered my arms. For just those brief moments in time and space, I was one with all those pilgrims, all those worshippers that day, and all those on thousands of days past, united with their awe and hope and spiritual longing to be connected to something holy within and without, universal and wholly human, yet divine

But our pilgrimage was not yet complete. We had a further destination to reach. A tiny valley in northeast Portugal, the Val de Coa, the Valley of the Coa River, where archeologists have discovered and have only recently begun to study rock etchings dating back to 25,000 years. We had called from France to make our reservations for the jeep transportation with guide down a narrow rocky road – hardly more than a ledge – to the bottom of the uninhabited valley, where we walked from site to site.

The etchings across flat rock faces were animal figures—many now extinct large mammals. They were so worn in places that only with the guide’s help were we able to visualize the fine lines of the drawings. One of the most remarkable facts was that many of the figures were drawn over other, older figures, sometimes 3 or 4, with the dates between first and last being as much as 5,000 years. And, often, these superimposed etchings were right next to a completely blank rock face, implying ritualistic intention for their careful placement.

Another remarkable fact was that archeologists had found little evidence for long-term Paleolithic occupation in the valley. This was truly a sacred place to which the artists and their companions returned for the sole purpose of creating and/or viewing these lovely stylistic drawings. As I imagined those stone age people – fully modern human beings with a clearly illustrated ritual and spiritual life, the goose bumps that visited my arms in Santiago now returned.

In the space of three days we had stood witness to the enormous power of human need, over tens of thousands of years, for connection to an abstracted Power beyond our own limited capacities. I could not say what that Power is, but I knew that desire and could honor the timeless myriad practices that people have used to find the Center, the Source, the Answer. My pilgrimage was complete, and I was changed.

And thus was born my hope that we might share an ever-so-brief pilgrimage this morning. The goal I identified for this pilgrimage is to connect with the elements of the earth, even as we attempt to connect with the very elements of our beings.

May we be inspired by Spring in all her glory as life is reborn out there. May we be inspired by the lovely art work in here that was a gift from our children and youth to honor the Earth.

A Greek mystic, poet and physician in 5th century BCE in Sicily named Empedocles is credited with the first description of fire, air, water, and earth as the basic elements of all things. These basic so-called elements were identified over and over by later Greek philosophers, and have shown up in Gnosticism, Eastern religions, Paganism, both ancient and modern, astrology, alchemy, Jungian psychology, even in the Myers-Briggs personality types.

We shall use those elements this morning – river rocks for earth, a pitcher and bowl for water, our container of joys-and-sorrows candles for fire, our own breath for air. In the time left to us, I invite you to walk to one or more of the “shrines,” to use each element as it connects to your own pilgrimage.

Take a rock, hold it, keep it, or leave it in the bowl of water. Pour some water into a bowl or refresh yourself from the pitcher of spring water. Light a candle, or put one out for the joys and sorrows that are in your heart today. Choose what feels right for you, for your pilgrimage.

If you prefer to remain seated, I would suggest that as you feel comfortable to do so, close your eyes and focus on your breathing – the gentle movement of the element of air in and out of your body, bringing oxygen to help create energy, to release the wastes of metabolism and spirit.

The music I shall play to accompany our pilgrimage is from the Cathedral of Images, an old bauxite mine in central Provence, now transformed into a tourist site. Last year’s theme was pilgrimage, and we walked the sandy paths of the cave with its 80-foot walls, onto which were projected huge images of pilgrims and sacred sites of 5 major world religions, accompanied by their multicultural music. That, too, was a goose bump experience that brought tears to our eyes. Hear in the music the universal longing of all pilgrims.

Before we depart on our shared pilgrimage this morning, let us please sing Hymn #301: Touch the Earth, Reach the Sky.

As we make this brief but sacred journey this morning, may we touch the earth and all her elements. May we reach the sky as we bring his elements deep into our bodies with our breathing. May we reach deep into our innermost, vulnerable selves to touch the very elements of our being – our hopes and dreams, our joys and sorrows, all the elements that make each of us unique and precious, of inherent worth and dignity.

Let the pilgrimage begin. Proceed to the outer circle of the sanctuary. We shall walk a clockwise path to the shrines.

RETURN TO THE LARGER WORLD

May we now begin to bring this pilgrimage to a close, knowing that we are not yet done; we’ve only just begun the journey to Ithaca. If you are standing, remain so; if you are seated, please join the circle and take you neighbors’ hands for the Benediction and closing hymn.

Take courage, Friends. The way is often hard, the path is never clear, And the stakes are very high.

Take courage. For deep down, there is another truth: You are not alone.