Pilgrimage and Procession as Spiritual Practice
There are all manner of stress points between Catholics and Evangelicals, some of which are due to what are very genuinely matters of thoughtful disagreement: we simply see the world and the faith through a different lens. But some of those differences really need to be challenged as having very little substance or weight. One of these is the practice of pilgrimage and its cousin, the procession, which has played a major role in the piety and shared religious life of Catholic Christians. And yet, perhaps other than the understanding and practice of the Eucharist or an appreciation of the role of Mary in Christian piety, few things have over the years so inflamed Evangelical and Protestant sensibilities as the Catholic insistence that they will make a pilgrimage and whether Sunday by Sunday, or on special feast days, make procession – in the church or through the streets of the town of city.
For traditional Catholics, a procession is precisely how faith is lived out: we walk – holding high those things that speak of the faith, or on a journey to a destination that highlights some significant aspect of the faith, such as a shrine or sacred space. There are, for example, the ancient routes of pilgrimage, such as the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, with as many as a quarter million people taking in all or some of this justifiably famous route from south west France across the north of Spain to the destination in Santiago or, for many, all the way to the north east coast of Spain. Then also there is the so called “Pilgrim’s Way” which over the centuries has taken pilgrims from Winchester, England to Canterbury, in South East England – in Kent – a relatively minor route until the martyrdom of Thomas Becket and then it became the most famous way of pilgrims in England proper. There is also the way of St. Cuthbert, from southern Scotland to Lindisfarne – the so called Holy Island – following in the footsteps of St. Cuthbert. Then there is also the equally ancient route from Canterbury, England all the way through Rome – through France, and thus aptly called the Via Francigena. This pilgrimate route was recently profiled in a New York Times bestseller, A Pilgrimage to Eternity, by Timothy Egan. But, of course, the ultimate route or destination is the way of the cross, where we follow the route that Jesus walked with his cross to Golgatha – in Jerusalem proper. And that simple series of stages or stations is then depicted in virtually all Catholic churches: a way to walk, process, on our own or with others, where we walk through the streets of Jerusalem – if not literally, then in our minds and hearts, where we walk with Jesus. And with him we go to the Cross. When, for example, Ignatius Loyola came to his senses and decided to give his life in service for Christ, his first thought was that he needed to make pilgrimage; it was simply what needed to happen. For him, this is what you did if you were serious about your faith. You went on the road, “with Christ.” And this instinct to walk, to move, to alone and with others, is without doubt one of the key elements of Catholic spirituality.
For whatever reason, this quintessential Catholic practice has so frequently been a source of stress and irritation to Evangelical Protestants. In some cases, a procession was viewed as linked to the Catholic understanding of the sacrament such that they were virtually one and the same. Others protested what they felt was an appropriate to pilgrimage that was meritorious. And no doubt others are aware of how processions were often used as a basis for defying other Christian traditions – most notably in Northern Ireland. Whatever the reason, on the whole Evangelicals have viewed pilgrimage and procession as suspect practices.
But it is noteworthy that this perspective is changing in some significant ways. No doubt some Evangelical Protestants will always remain somewhat sceptical, but for many they are learning that this is a manner of living and expressing the faith that has within it the means of very intentionally and powerfully identifying with Christ and the way of the Cross. While it could not be described as an “indispensable” practice, more and more Christians of all stripes and perspectives are right to come to an increasing appreciation of this spiritual practice. It might be the thrill of the challenge or the exotic that starts them down the Camino – alone or with others – but then, along the way, they come to see that something fundamental is changing in their hearts and minds, as step by step they come to terms with their inner demons and insecurities and find a deeper faith in Christ emerging in their souls. Or perhaps they just give it a go, so to speak, and walk – slowly and intentionally – some version or variation of the fourteen stages of the cross, and find that they are seeing some aspect of their faith through a new and different lens.
One example of this for me was when many years ago a friend invited me to join him for a walk along 42nd Avenue in New York City for a walk that organized by Pax Christi, that imagined the fourteen stages of the cross laid out across the breadth of that segment of the city. On the morning of Good Friday, two hundred or so of us gathered on the East side of Manhattan, near the UN headquarters, and headed out through the heart of the city. We made fourteen stops; each time we stopped for a time a time of reading and reflection. Between “stations” we were sometimes silent but as often as not we sang together the simple prayers of those who long to see the reign of Christ come in the city. The fourteen stages or stations were intentionally placed where it seemed to fitting to pray for the power of Christ and of the Cross of Christ to intervene in human affairs, whether it is the large US military recruitment station, just off 42nd Ave, or the New York Public Library, or the headquarters of a large pharmaceutical firm. Step by step, in my own thoughts but also in comradery with fellow followers of Christ, we prayed for the city through the lens of the way of the cross. We walked and prayed, eager for the Cross of Christ to more deeply shape the heart of the city. We did not merely pray for the city; we walked the city as we prayed and in our walking our prayers were not only offered to Christ, but were also means by which our very prayers more deeply shaped our own inner minds and hearts. As someone of an Evangelical background, it was a special grace to see and feel what it means for our prayers to be embodied as with others that day we yearned for the city, our country and our world.
And so I ask: why would walking and procession and pilgrimage not be an ideal way to live out our faith and our prayers. Perhaps we do a pilgrimage; perhaps we join a procession. Or, perhaps we come to see that there are many times when a walk can be a mini-spiritual pilgrimate. Why not walk to church on Sunday and see the walk as a spiritual journey – the assent to the holy place? Why not incorporate procession into our liturgies as a way to embody in our worship practices, the very faith we confess? Why not consider doing a pilgrimage, perhaps at a key turning point in a persons life – in anticipation of a new challenge or calling, or in response to a loss in one’s life, or as a way of expressing gratitude for a gift, perhaps the gift of renewed health following a significant illness? Why not, I say to my fellow Evangelicals, take a page from our Catholic brothers and sisters, and come to a greater appreciation of this potentially transformation spiritual practice? And perhaps in so doing we will be reminded that we are walking the whole of the journey of faith together.
An additional note – “fourteen stations? – or fifteen stations?
Regarding the way of the cross – the fourteen stations. It is not uncommon, largely in response to Evangelical concerns or sensibilities, to hear it said that, well, if you must do the “stations of the cross” then there should be fifteen stations, rather than [merely] fourteen. The argument is that we should not end our walk, our brief pilgrimage, our going with Jesus on the way of the cross with the fourteenth as the last station: Jesus is laid in the tomb. We should not end here because, it is said, that is not the end of the story. We need to go all the way to the next station – which has been added: the resurrection and the empty tomb.
I even heard it said as a young person living in heavily Catholic Ecuador, in South America, that Catholics focused on the cross but Evangelicals focused on the triumph of the resurrection. Quite apart from the highly inappropriate distinction, what must not be missed is the following: first, that Catholic Christians obviously believe in the resurrection. But second, and more to the point: the genius of the fourteen stations is precisely that we are drawn into the mystery of the Cross and, frankly, the centrality of the Cross in the life and witness of the Church. Without the resurrection the Cross means nothing, of course. But with the resurrection, the Cross means everything! And so we do the fourteen stations – all fourteen of them – in light of the resurrection, and do the fifteenth station if you must. But, the whole point is first that we do all fourteen stations through the lens of the resurrection and as such allow the meaning and scope and power of the Cross to infuse our minds, our hearts, our deepest consciousness. In the words of the Apostle Paul: we want to be united with Christ in his sufferings (Romans 8:17). Only then do we in turn know the power of sharing in his resurrection (Phil 3:10), that is, only if and as we share with him in his sufferings. And so we do not hasten on to some kind of “fifteenth” stage as though this lightens the weight and substance of the Cross. Rather, we do the entire fourteen stages in light of the resurrection with this as our prayer: that the mind of Christ, the mind of the Crucified One, would shape, form and inform our minds, our hearts, our deepest consciousness. It was to this end that the Apostle insisted that he preached Christ and Christ crucified.
