Peeking in an Empty Tomb

In a few hours I will take a brief respite from Santiago dC to meet some folks who have a keen sense of hospitality to pilgrims.  As I think back over the last few weeks, I am grateful for the opportunity to be an observer - to have had moments to where I could be next to, and notice the Holy.  

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Two of the pilgrim rituals cannot be performed this year, due to renovations in the Cathedral.  In the past, pilgrims would often place their palm in the Jesse Tree in the Portico de la Gloria, feeling the grooves of a hand formed by thousands of touches, and joining the branches of the faithful.  Then, they might circle around to the back of the column and bump their head three times to the statue of the architect.  Some pilgrims are disappointed, and I think this is because once one finally gets to Santiago, as surreal as it can feel, touching something can be important.

Here, a pilgrim touches a palm-print of an artist who designed the modern memorial to historically significant pilgrims (on the outskirts of Santiago de Compostela). 

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Tuesday, the group from the Episcopal church was honored at the mass in the cathedral, but as known Episcopalians, could not receive communion - quite obvious because they were front and center, and noted.  There was a lot of accomodation, and honor for them in the mass, but, yet, they could not "receive." 

I won't criticize the Catholic church for their teaching on the Eucharist, but use this is an opportunity to point out the division in the Body of Christ, our brokenness as a family.  So, after the pilgrims mass, we went out to the statue where we previously had washed feet, and there, Fr. Howard offered Eucharist for his flock, and we communed together in this holy place, a sign of our yearning to be made one, as Jesus prayed for us.

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During the mass, we sang one of the Taize chants, from the older hymn, Ubi Caritas.  So may it be.

There is a seminary here in Santiago that can accomodate 500 students, housing less than 25.  Changes in the way we "do" church are inevitable. 

Today, a friend, and fellow ordinand (think back to June 13), Sister Lynn, is, God willing, walking through the threshold of final vows today at 6:00pm.  I left a candle burning for her, here in Santiago.  Join me in praying for her, and for all who are making vows before the Holy One to dedicate their lives in particular service.

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On Sunday, I walked up to Monte de Goza to take down fliers and wanted to walk back into the city.  R walked in from there (about 5 km) when he went to post the fliers, and said that the experience of looking for the little yellow arrows that mark the way had been a significant experience of recalling his camino, and recommended that I do it.

So, I did.  After taking down the fliers, I walked uphill about 100 m to the statue erected in honor of Pope John Paul II's pilgrimage, and bought a bottle of water to sustain my walk back.  There, I heard a very distinct "y'all."  A word of no little importance to this Mississippian.  So, I stopped to speak, and discovered a wonderful group of people from Church of the Ascension (Knoxville, TN), and walked the last leg with them - a very special moment for me, to be able to walk with them.

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As we neared the Porto do Camino, the entry to the old town, I offered to the priest to wash their feet.  After a few minutes of coordinating, I ran to the apartment while they were in the church to collect my little tubs and towels.  We met back up on the southern plaza of the church, where there is an old fountain Domenico Laffi (17th century pilgrim) described, with horses.  I sat them around the fountain, and there, washed all of their feet.  I reminded them they are to go and do likewise, but invited them not to think about that on that particular day of their entry - to accept first the free gift, and then later, on their return home, to consider ways to give back.

Dumping out the water, I thought back to Maundy Thursday, and remembered that the water is not nearly so dirty then.  There is something about washing real feet, dirty feet - not the pre-washed feet that come on the eve of Good Friday.  It was a real blessing for me to be able to do this - to offer a gift expecting nothing in return.  And of course, in giving, feeling a deep connection to human beings beyond myself, and the God who created us all.

   I remain convinced that gathering together for a meal is a significant event, a way Christ taught us to participate in the salvation of the world.  Think if kings and dictators and presidents actually ate together before going to war?  Of if they would actually eat with their people from time to time. 

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   Finding your place: lingering means finding a special place, "your place," and taking time just to "be."

   And other people can just plain be annoying!  But they are wonderful.

The plaza in front of the cathedral is fascinating.  Busses; a tourist "train;" a man ressed like a pilgrim for photo-ops; tour groups with their impertinent guides; the Tuna da Farmicia singing and selling CDs; and in the midst of it all, pilgrims.