After nine months of careful
preparation, a group of parishioners from St Mary's North Sydney recently
undertook a three-week pilgrimage to Europe where they retraced the steps of St
Ignatius through France, Spain and Italy. Fr Tony Smith SJ, parish priest at St
Mary's North Sydney, accompanied the group. Here, he reflects on the
experience.
I
arrived home recently from the Ignatian Pilgrimage. In the end it was a
'spirit' and 'life' issue - the spirit was strong but the body was weak. As I
chase down my doctors for some answers, I have been given time to reflect on
the spirit side of pilgrimage.
Andrew
Bullen SJ, in his quick notes on pilgrimage, writes, amongst other things:
'You
become part of a stream of pilgrims, a community on the move over the
centuries. The journey is often hard, emotionally demanding, with touches, with
moments of felt grace. The telling of your story to fellow pilgrims is often
what happens. The stops on the way often have something of the holiness of the
destination. Given the danger of the journey, pilgrims ask God and/or Our
Lady/the appropriate saints for protection, shelter. Pilgrims are supposed to
go simply - the pilgrim's staff, sleeping rough, eating sparely - it is not a
party on the move.'
All
along the way we sought the protection of our patroness: Our Lady of the Way.
The days in parish were exhaustive - the establishment of identity; the
walking, the praying and sharing together; the enjoyment of simple meals
(‘simple' being another word for ‘what we could afford'!).
A
Paris highlight for me was the celebration of our first Mass together in the
little chapel of St Denis on Montmartre. I wonder how many points we had in
common with that little band of companions who joined together to vow a common
purpose. Did Peter Faber, the first priest of the Society, have to search for a
Eucharistic prayer in a language that he could identify? And the readings - not
quite the readings of the day, but at least they expressed our common bond in
pilgrimage.
Paris
was a blur as we moved on to Charles de Gaulle Airport and thence to Bilbao in
Spain and on to the Loyola Sanctuary. We stayed in the retreat house right
alongside the centre of things, the Loyola Castle. We felt privileged in the
honour extended to us by this accommodation. And the Sisters who ran the
retreat house were wonderful hosts to this motley group of pilgrims who had no
Spanish - and the sisters had little English! Sign language is a wonderful
thing!
On
the second day we had a wonderful Mass in the 'Conversion Room' in the Loyola
Castle. It was here that Ignatius endured much of the agony of recuperation and
slowly but surely worked his way to a new conversion of life. The wonderful
thing for the celebrant was that for the first time we found English texts for
our Mass. We were made to feel quite at home when the Jesuit brother/sacristan
produced a collection plate and insisted that it passed around during the Mass.
We were joined at Mass by a small Spanish family who spoke no English but
joined enthusiastically in our devotion.
The
Loyola Days were blessed with group and personal moments when the Spirit was at
work in the places we visited, the people we met, the sights of basilicas and
their glorious altar pieces. Language was a real factor and the pilgrims will
need to address this in future pilgrimages. Even a smattering of the language
would have been a gesture when this pilgrim, at least, had none.
And
as the days progressed the cohesiveness of the group was enhanced - a common
experience, a shared sighting, a sense of the transcendent in the reality of the
world, a story from the past pointing into the future. During the day, at
points along the way, members of the group opened up aspects of their research
- a city, a cathedral and event, a statue, an object - that filled out the
story. Each night we shared from the day just past. Often our insights were
formed by those of others. Grace before meals, acts of devotion, Masses on the
way: these were occasions for sharing the spirit of pilgrimage.