Priest humbled, inspired on 513-mile pilgrimage trek FR. TOM LILLY ALASKA NEWS, EDITORS PICKS, FEATURED SEPTEMBER 2014 Anchor LogoCatholicAnchor.org Editor’s note: Father Tom Lilly recently completed an ancient pilgrimage path, hiking the narrow footpaths, farm trails, cobbled streets and byways of Spain. The pastor of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in Anchorage completed his journey to the historic cathedral that houses the relics of Saint James the Apostle. Known as Santiago de Compostela, the church has been a prominent place of Catholic pilgrimage since the Middle Ages. There is no single route to Santiago, as the historic trek first began in the Middle Ages with pilgrims walking out their front doorstep. Father Lilly took the less traveled Northern Caminos which pass through the Spanish regions of the Basque Country, Cantabria, Asturias and Galicia. This way spans 513 miles. The following reflection was written by Father Lilly near the end of his journey. CALLED TO A CAMINO I look back with amazement that almost three months have passed since I rather hurriedly packed and departed Anchorage to begin a 500-plus-mile walking pilgrimage along the Santiago de Compostela. Vaguely aware that I was beginning a long journey, I had little clue as to why or how to approach it. By God’s grace, shown to me through my archbishop’s approval of my sabbatical request, things just fell into place. My parish and the parish school, were in a place where I could depart for an extended time, completely confident in my staff. I do admit to a touch of guilt leaving for such a long time but took confidence in others telling me to “just go and let God bless you the ways he wants. I decided to go. What is a Camino? Inspired by a movie and a documentary I just had an overwhelming notion that I would make this trip. I didn’t know when or how, but I felt deeply that the trip would happen, even that God wanted it to happen. I have only experienced that depth of feeling one time previously in my life, when I sensed God’s invitation to serve him as one of his priests. LIFE RESCHEDULED My entire life has been dictated by schedules. Now, suddenly, I would have no schedule. I had no idea just how hard that would be. Nearing the end of this pilgrimage I have become more aware of a number of things in life. I began focused on the logistics of walking the Camino. How far to walk each day? How to tend my blisters? Would I want to quit? What did I forget to pack? Would I get sick? Could I drink the water? Only vaguelydid I reflect on deeper realities such as who God might bring into my path and what personal transformation might I undergo as a result. As I have come to discover, the real “Camino” is not the trails, roads, freeways, beaches, pastures or railroad lines that I traversed, but the personal encounters. Walking is a slow way to see a country but I don’t believe there is any better way, if you have the time. This 513-mile journey was an incredible invitation to meet people and to be enriched. Looking back, I chuckle at what occupied my mind: I soon didn’t care about the distance walked per day, nor the time I started. I didn’t get any blisters and never even thought of quitting early. I decided whatever I forgot I didn’t really need anyway. I ate anything and everything and drank the water wherever I went. PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS Along the way I met fascinating people and sensed God’s grace at work in them. I saw it in the life of Jan, a man who literally walked out his front door in the Czech Republic with the intent of walking to Santiago and thereafter Portugal (and then back home again!). He felt God asked him to reevaluate his life. God’s grace was at work in Ali’s life, a committed Muslim and computer science engineer from Iran, who has walked a different Camino each year for several years, never able, he says, to know exactly why, but that he just feels drawn to do so by something outside of himself. God’s Grace impelled Horst from Germany to walk the Camino in thanksgiving for three successful back surgeries that allowed him to get out of a wheelchair and walk again. God was working in Caroline’s life, a graphic artist from France, who said the Camino had completely changed her view of herself and the world. She returned to France early to begin what she knew was a new life. Trusting that all would go well, young Daniel from Germany forge ahead on the Camino, even after having all of his money stolen a week previously in a supermarket. He simply said, “I trust in God.” God’s grace; new life; trust. These are just a few undercurrents in a vast sea of experiences over the past 12 weeks. ‘ROOTS OF FAITH’ I have come to call this journey, “The Roots of Faith.” This came about through two encounters, one with a flower and another with a beautiful married couple from Portland, Ore. The flower was in a jar of water in a hostel in the town of Requejada. I was the only person in the hostel and just noticed that the flower had lost contact with the water and although just an inch away, it had died. When I met John and Robin in one of those “chance encounters” on the Camino, and later met up again in the next town and enjoyed a delightful dinner together, I was struck by Robin’s description of a tree that she had seen with roots that burrowed down several hundred feet in a search for water. A CATHOLIC PERSPECTIVE I feel especially blessed to have been able to make this pilgrimage as a Catholic and to be able to filter what I’ve seen through the lens of my Catholic faith. There’s something uniquely Catholic about a pilgrimage. At times I felt I was walking sections of the Camino that were untouched from the days gone by where kings and peasants walked the road to Santiago de Compostela, at great personal sacrifice, just to be able to pray at the tomb of this saint. Then, continuing to the coast, they would attach a shell to their clothing and walk home again, with the shell indicating to others that they had completed their pilgrimage. Today almost all pilgrims carry the shell, but with fewer and fewer it seems consciously making the trip a spiritual pilgrimage. I suspect in time, though, that almost anyone who walks the Camino will draw some spiritual benefit even if at first they don’t realize it. For almost 1,200 years pilgrims have walked this route. I felt some sense of connection with their journey. I attribute this to our Catholic faith and our understanding of the communion of saints and the sacrament of the Eucharist. Somehow all who have gone before us are with us today as are part of this awesome communion. When we look at the history of the church we see particular men and women who the church has declared to be worthy of veneration and emulation — the recognized saints. Saint James is among these. I marvel at the extensive human effort to travel such long distances to pray in the presence of the remains of this saint. To non-Catholics this seems strange, perhaps even downright weird. As a Catholic, however, I understand. Why do I so look forward to praying at the tomb of Saint James and why have so many before me sacrificed so much to do the same? I believe it is solely God’s grace made manifest through the roots of faith — men and women over the centuries who have strained to touch the life-giving waters of our Lord. As beautifully portrayed in Sacred Scripture, the faithful go to great lengths in faith to quench their thirst for the water of eternal life which can only be found in Christ. They burrow down like those tree roots that Robin spoke of and find life in Christ, particularly in the sacraments of his church. Those who choose their own path and turn away from Christ risk being separated from those life-giving waters and risk drying up and dying as did that flower in the hostel. TRAVELING THROUGH TIME & SPACE In walking the Camino I had the chance to experience the deep roots of the Catholic faith in the history of the church in Spain. It is hard for Americans to fully appreciate the sense of history in Spain. I joke with the people here that they have wine and cheese older than the State of Alaska! I visited, and pitched my tent in front of, a church built in the 10th century. I celebrated Mass several times on altars more than 1,000 years old. How many times people have gathered around those altars seeing present again that one true sacrifice of Calvary. Oh, the gift of the Eucharist! COMMUNION ON THE TRAIL To celebrate with fellow pilgrims on the Camino was a most special experience. Imagine the gathering one Saturday evening in the tiny village of A Mesa, with Maronite Catholics from Lebanon, an Antiochian Orthodox man, a Sunni Muslim, a dozen or so Roman Catholics from Spain and France and two professed non-believers all joined around a table, outside, amidst the beauty of God’s created world, with a homemade cross quickly assembled, fresh flowers plucked from the roadside, a map of the Camino serving as the altar cloth, and the Scriptures shared in French, Spanish, English and Arabic. Now, that’s the work of God! Although not all received Holy Communion, we were definitely gathered by God’s grace and we recognized the communion to which God calls us. The Gospel reading that night was the parable of the Sower and the Seed. In the homily I asked, “How is this Camino helping you to be fertile soil in which to receive God’s Word and how are you sharing it?” Well, needless to say, the sharing was intense, as each person’s comments were simultaneously translated. Oh, the tears that followed. Oh, the Eucharist that brought us all together. Oh, the call to be communion for others! The “Roots of Faith.” TIME WITH VILLAGERS I shared more time with local people along the way than I did with fellow pilgrims traveling the Camino. This was more by chance than design. In averaging only 7-10 miles per day, I usually hit the trail about noon, meaning the other pilgrims were already far out in front of me. Preferring the solitude of walking alone, I thoroughly enjoyed the silence, often broken by someone calling out to chat or one of various animals catching my attention. I chatted with many a horse, burro, cow, goat or sheep, but preferred my conversations with people! The Camino Primitivo is far less travelled than the Camino Frances (the one in the movies). Hence there were numbers of farmers, retired folks and just villagers going about their business who were happy to take a break and chat about life in Spain and to hear if Alaska was as beautiful as all the travel shows depicted it. People are people and we all have pretty much the same desires in life. I found an underlying current of lament at how few of the next generation currently practice their Catholic faith. Almost all of the churches here are now locked during the day due to a rash of burglaries; however, I could almost always find the person with the key in a nearby house or restaurant or bar. They were usually elderly and had taken care of the church for decades. The roots of faith. They wondered aloud whether anyone would be there to take over for them after they died. I marveled at the intense work that went into building the hundreds and hundreds of small chapels in the tiniest of villages, almost all of which now maybe have Mass celebrated once per month. It seems the kids leave the villages and do not come back. Underneath it all, however, is a great sense of optimism and genuine openness and cheerfulness. I literally have not met a single person in almost three months that was not friendly and helpful. “Todo esta en las manos de Dios,” they say. “Everything is in God’s hands.” LIFE IS FLEETING Walking the Camino, I have learned that life is short and live it fully in appreciation for the gift of good health. I chose to use a set of lightweight, long-distance hiking poles. They make a clicking sound as they come into contact with the ground. I was sitting along the side of the road one day in a small village taking a break when I heard equivalent clicking sounds. I looked up to see a frail woman slowly making her way along the opposite side of the street, her “poles” being a set of crutches. Step by step she was advancing on her journey to or from home. I said a little prayer of support for her and of thanksgiving for me. By the grace of God I can currently get out and tackle a 500-mile journey. Her world may now be limited to a few blocks of her home. Someday, too, will mine. I’m reminded of the precious and fleeting gift of life. Enjoy it and live it to the fullest! ‘LIVING WATER’ I also learned to seek the Living Water. Like that flower in the hostel, I will die without water. While I encountered real thirst along this journey on numerous occasions, none is so real as the thirst one feels when separated from Christ. I am convinced that Christ invited me on this journey to remind me that only in his love will I find what will satisfy me the most. LOVING THE CHURCH I learned to love the church. It’s Christ’s body. As an all-too-human institution, the church has its flaws and they are easy to see. But as a divine institution, the church is also Christ’s body here on earth. This same church has been the home of notorious sinners and holy saints. I am part of that body. Do I strive for sanctity? I am part of the communion of saints. Do I realize and honor the call to serve other members of his body? On one stormy evening, while camped out in front of a 9th century church, the family who kept the keys to the church brought dinner to my tent and let me know I could sleep in the church, which served as a place for refuge for those in need. How am I welcoming to others? I learned that this is not “my Camino.” With whom do I travel? I found myself loving the solitude of the Camino and actually felt uneasy at times when encountering other pilgrims, especially if they were loud or otherwise not “enjoying the moment” as I was. Then I realized that they had as much right to the Camino as I did and I should honor them as fellow pilgrims. With whom do I want to associate in my ongoing life-Camino? Who bothers me because of the “noise” they make? How do my interior prejudices keep me from appreciating those who God has intentionally placed along my path? Along similar lines, when I once had a hostel all to myself, I was initially disappointed when two other pilgrims showed up, then two more after them. As with the church (another place of refuge) am I bothered when others show up who I was not expecting or for whom I have not yet made room in my heart? LOVING MARY This trip also deepened my relationship with Mary. I found myself growing closer in union with Christ through our Blessed Mother. I committed to praying a daily rosary while on the Camino, offering it for the intentions of different people each day. I would often begin the rosary while trudging uphill. Do I pray harder only when facing uphill journeys, or because I truly desire a deeper relationship with God? No better way to know the Son than through his mother. LIFE AT A WALKING PACE Walking forced me to slow down and look for the hand of God in events and in the people I met. I call this “being spiritually aware.” Although the pace of life and the demands placed upon me will increase upon my return, how I choose to respond and interact with them is up to me. Can I continue to “walk” through life, or do I run quickly? I met many on the Camino who boasted of the distance they could cover in one day. I thought it sad. What do I miss by a quick pace and how might I share the journey of another by slowing down and walking with them. By being “spiritually aware?” For me this is one major gift of the Camino. THE RAVAGES OF TIME I learned that time takes it’s toll. As I walked outside a number of cities, I discovered grand old houses that lined the streets. These were big stone homes that at one time would have housed the important, the wealthy and the well connected. Long since abandoned and boarded up, it was interesting to see that these houses were slowly being taken over by vines and trees and nature in general. Where are the powerful people who once claimed these addresses? Their voices no longer speak. I sensed that whatever I might build or leave behind after my time in this world will very soon be forgotten and taken over again by the ravages of time. What will last is the good that I might be able to do while on this Camino through life. AGED BUT FAITHFUL WITNESSES I witnessed so many moments of faithfulness in the people with whom I met. I was deeply touched by Angeles. For 83 years in a village of less than 50 people she has faithfully rooted her life in her parish community of faith. We talked about the power of baptism as she let me take a photo of her proudly standing beside the same font in which she was baptized 83 years earlier. It was in this same church, that dated from the Middle Ages, where she was confirmed, received Communion for the first time, was married, had raised her children in the faith and had celebrated the burial of her husband. Now weakened by age and infirmity she insisted on slowly walking with me, using her cane to steady herself. She said, “I have Jesus here and his mother every day. I don’t need anything else. I used to run through these hills as a young girl; now I speak with the pilgrims who come by.” Such a witness to faith! I was also inspired by the Cistercian monastic community of Cobreces which graciously invited me to concelebrate Mass with them early in the morning. Having had 24 members of their community martyred in the revolution of the 1930’s, these mostly old brothers and priests just continued about the business of prayer, leaving their past and their future in the hands of God. I’ll always treasure the memory of praying morning prayer with the Benedictine Sisters of Oviedo, who invited us into their monastic enclosure to join them for prayer and Mass. Having served faithfully for so many years, they were joyful and were now welcoming new sisters from various parts of the world. And the joy in the faces of the young novices in the cloistered community of the Augustinian Sisters of Lugo brought great joy to my own heart. In a world that worships the spectacular and encourages extravagant self-indulgence, I witnessed the true power and beauty of individuals and communities committed to prayer and a life of personal sacrifice. DIVINE GUIDE There were three times that I felt God’s presence in a particularly powerful way. I often got lost, usually by choice, as I liked to hike as close to the ocean as possible. I would then ask folks for directions or find the Camino again when I was ready to do so. One of my “shortcuts” took me through some pastureland with many trails crisscrossing. I thought, “OK, which way to go?” I noticed a colorful butterfly on the trail immediately in front of me. It would land about 20 yards ahead of me on the trail and just as I feared stepping on it would fly off again for another 20 yards or so. It would cross onto different trails and I had lots of time on my hands so I decided to follow it, talking to the butterfly along the way. This went on for the better part of 10-15 minutes. For some reason powerful thoughts about Deacon Ken Donohue, a friend who recently passed away, entered my heart. I even named the butterfly “Ken.” After some time I happened to look up and in the far distance I saw a hand-painted scrawl of the infamous yellow arrow pointing in the direction of the Camino. I then said out-loud, “OK, I don’t need you anymore, butterfly.” I looked down and it was gone, nowhere to be seen. I was saddened but just smiled and thanked God for His guidance. The second time was when I stopped at one of the many small chapels to pray. There was a small bulletin board next to the door containing numerous prayer requests of pilgrims. I thought I would pray for some of these. As I reached up to take a few down off the board there was a rustling sound and from out of the midst of the many leaflets of paper flew…yes, a butterfly! I knew the Lord was right in the midst of the prayers of his people. The third time was when I was at the most difficult part of the Camino — atop a mountain and had just spent a somewhat sleepless night in my tent amidst the largest windstorm I have ever experienced. I crawled out the next morning and witnessed the sun coming up over a glorious mountain range. As I sat there I heard God gently answering the question I had brought with me on this Camino. He reassured me of his presence. TRAVELING LIGHT Pilgrims traditionally carry a rock of some size along with them, either for the entire journey or for particular parts of it. As they offer a prayer or have some insight they leave the rock behind, often on markers pointing the trail out for pilgrims who follow. The rock can symbolize one’s sins or whatever “weight” there may be in one’s life. I, too, carried a rock with me. To my pleasant surprise God provided an insight to me atop the mountain. Rather than leave the rock behind I have chosen to return with it, as a reminder that the weight of sin is always before me, yet by the grace of God I can receive his love through the beautiful sacrament of reconciliation. The rock for me is no longer only a reminder of my sins, but of the immensity of God’s most merciful love. I am grateful to God for the invitation to make the pilgrimage of a lifetime; to my parish staff for making it possible for me to go; to my archbishop who trusted in what this pilgrimage could be for me; and to the countless people who prayed for me and supported me each step of the way. Thank you!
Posted on: Tue, 21 Oct 2014 07:50:15 +0000
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