Peter
Stanford begins his introduction with Waterden Church, a “Small
Pilgrim Place”, before going on to explores 8 major places of
Pilgrimage. Some have a pretty solid Christian identity –
Walsingham – some less “solid” with significant pagan interest
- Glastonbury – while Stonehenge despite its rich mix of identities
has very limited explicitly Christian interpretations.
Stanford
goes to these places at the times they get their peak pilgrim
numbers, and observes – except that more than once he does get
sucked into being a participant, he is interested in the people, the
pilgrims, as much as the places.
One
surprise was the realisation that I haven’t actually been to most
of these places – Iona, Lindisfarne, Glastonbury, and Bardsey sit
so firmly in my imagination that I have sort of forgotten that I have
never physically travelled to them. This perhaps points to their
power, a pilgrimage is only ever partly physical – the physical is
a token signifying the “real” journey of the mind or spirit –
the place of pilgrimage, even when you at physically present, is a
place that you imagine.
In
exploring the non-Christian pilgrimage, particularly at Stonehenge
and Glastonbury, the absence of the traditional narratives of
pilgrimage perhaps offers more direct insights into the question
“What do people think they are doing?” as they have had to find a
language of their own rather than wrapping responses stock phrases
(although it seems they is plenty of borrowing of “Christian”
vocab...).
Stanford
finds common themes across all the expressions of pilgrimage –
desires for connection, desires for a grounding, desires for a sense
of something beyond the worries of everyday life. There are twin
experiences of something intensely personally and something common or
collective.
Stanford
is visiting major pilgrimage sites at points of above average visitor
numbers and this might explain the emphasis on the collective
experience, but even in the absence of others the sense of a place
“where prayer has been valid”, as T. S. Elliot put it, feels an
essential part of pilgrimage.
These
places have great stories associated with their pasts, and
particularly with their origins – and our relationship to these
stories can be complex. Many have rich layers, full of colour and
drama, through which the location of historical “facts” is not
always easy. The stories explain why the place is worth visiting, and
yet in many cases the stories are probably not true. In some cases
the place almost certainly existed before the stories – some have
long pre-Christian heritage going back well beyond the Saints and
Martyrs we recall today. There is a bit of Chicken and Egg – the
Story that tells us why the place is significance only exists because
the place was significant and people needed to explain why.
I am
probably not someone who needed to be convinced that Pilgrimage is
good for you, but nevertheless Stanford provides such engaging
insight that he reaffirms its value. There can be great healing
found through pilgrimage, not from some magic associated with spring
waters or saints bones (although I wouldn’t rule that out), but in
the intentional act of going somewhere, a bringing together of mind
and body that allows renewal to take place.
Even
reading it in the depths of winter I found my feet start to itch to
be on the road again.
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