“Advent begins with a paradox of who we are and where we are: somewhere between the darkness and the light, somewhere between the fact of darkness and the hope of light, watching and waiting for a holiness to heal us, to hallow us, to liberate us from the dark.” –F. Buechner, Listeing to your life.

“Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and God’s glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn…they shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.” – Isaiah 60:1-3; 6

If you do nothing else this Advent season to enrich your spirit and your sense of place, do what Jan Richardson implores us to do: Stay. Sit. Linger. Tarry. Ponder. Wonder- and I would add, pray. Because this season of the church, this first season of the year, Advent, is meant to be a time of doing just that; pondering and praying for what has been, what is, and what will be.

As most of you know, I am recently back from a long walk. A really long walk. I am recently returned from hiking the pilgrimage known as the Camino de Santiago; the Way of St. James, where, over the course of 5 weeks and 500 miles, I walked across northern Spain to arrive at city of Santiago de Compostella, and the purported final resting place of the Apostle, James. Needless to say, I have had plenty of time to sit and ponder, to tarry and to linger, and to pray. And that time has been golden- rich beyond compare. So, I am an advocate for going on pilgrimage.

To go on pilgrimage is to simply go on an intentional spiritual journey.

That’s it. You can go on pilgrimage to Publix if you’d like; all you have to do is bring spiritual intention to your travel. . You don’t have to walk 500 or even 5 miles if you don’t want to; a pilgrimage can be (and is) as much an internal journey as it can be external. It is simply a choice.

Should you make the choice to be intentional in your journey, you should know that Not every minute of every day need be spiritual.
Somedays on the Camino, my spirituality was very light. Somedays it was good enough to strap on the boots and the backpack, drag my weary body out of bed and make it from point A to point B. Some days were filled with brooding brows and raining skies, sore feet and wounded knees; when darkness had descended to a place where you could hardly tell what time it was for the rains or the aches and the pains. Somedays, the only prayer I would utter would be, “Hallelujah” as I fell into bed.

But somedays were filled with a lightness that made even the heaviest of backpacks feel light as a feather, and my old boots felt like they could walk on their own.

There were days that were steeped in spirit. Somedays I couldn’t hardly turn my head without seeing some mark of God’s grace in this world; and those days were rich beyond compare.

While I was walking this Way of St. James to make pilgrimage to purported final resting place of the Apostle James, there were many among my peers who, to be quite honest, did give a hoot about James and would be, in fact, hard pressed to be able to even say who he was. Even some of my more religious friends didn’t always put it together that the James whose bones we were walking too was THAT James, the James in the Bible- who wrote the brilliant letter that says, “Faith, without works, is DEAD. Show me your works, and I will know the level of your faith.” Does it surprise you to know that James is one of my heroes?

People walk the Camino for a huge variety of reasons. There is no right or wrong way to go on pilgrimage; and the intention to the journey that you bring is all your own; but be forewarned that that is always the third question that people will ask you. First is,” how are your feet?”, followed by, “how heavy is your pack?”, but the big question everyone always asks is, “why are you walking the Camino?”

The further along the road we walked, the harder that question became to answer. There were a number of us who were in mourning; in my group of friends I know of no less than 5 of us who were walking to find peace in the recent loss of a parent. There were a significant number of people who had transitioned out of important relationships in their lives, either through work or love; and a number of us in our 40’s and 50’s who could probably be classified as going through a mid-life crisis. Not me of course! But you know…people like me… A great number of my friends were going through what Vince has referred to as a quarter life crisis. Brilliant and beautiful young people in their 20’s, knowing there is more to this life than working, producing and consuming, hoping that the Camino can shed some light on the future direction they should take. There were also friends who were walking, recognizing that this might be one of the last great adventures of their lives. I had one friend who turned 80 the day we arrived in Santiago. Some of us were walking to fulfill a lifelong dream; while one friend found out he was walking the Camino two weeks before he arrived, when his wife and boss presented him with a plane ticket and a backpack.

While each of us brings our reasons for walking, I found that about mid-way through the trip the walking became the reason.
In the beginning of the journey I would pop out of bed before sun-up; quietly pack up my bags and skin out to crank out 26 kilometers as quickly as possible, taking very few breaks and arriving in time to pick the best bunk in the alburgue and have a nice hot shower before too many others arrived to take all the hot water.

But being the first to arrive wasn’t satisfying to me. Something was missing.

One day as I was walking I heard stories about a church; almost 1000 years old, that had supposedly been built by the Knights Templar. It was known for its 8 sided architecture and it’s numerous arches; both clues that the Templars had taken into consideration the Islamic architecture of the Moors. This place supposedly had a labyrinth as well- and after walking over 20 miles, who doesn’t want to walk a labyrinth, too? The problem was that this church was about 3 kilometers off the path. Which meant adding 6 km’s to the day- and to leave the path to venture out to a church is practically unthinkable. Because there is NO backtracking on the Camino- not if you can help it. 6 k’s doesn’t sound like much, but it is. Some days we were so bad that even if there were the greatest café in town but it was 500 meters behind us, we wouldn’t go.

Another factor that I considered was that all of my friends and acquaintances didn’t plan to stop; they were going to keep heading along to the bigger town about 6 kilometers away. To stop meant to risk losing all the friends I had made along the way to the flow of the Camino. I decided to take the risk.

I stayed back. I stopped in the town before it, unloaded my gear, and walked out to the little church called Eunarte. And it was the right decision.

I spent over 3 hours at the beautiful little church. And it wasn’t a labyrinth as we know it; but was a small stone pathway around the church, that worshippers are encouraged to walk, barefoot, three times before entering the sanctuary. And it wasn’t just a few arches; it was a series of arches that enclosed the church; 33 of them; and by walking three times around the circuit you end up walking past 99 arches before you cross under the last one, the 100th, into the sanctuary. Spending time at this beautiful little church, I had to let go of my expectations for the journey. But I learned in that one afternoon and evening how powerful it can be to simply sit. To ponder. To pray, and to linger. That evening I watched the sun set over the small church, and my expectations for the journey shifted.

For the rest of the journey, the walk became the thing. Hours spent simply putting one foot in front of the other became times of transformation and offered experiences of deep peace, the likes of which I had never experienced before. Tears would flow and laughter would erupt, and experiences of the sacred were ever present and overwhelming. In those times I would think on my life; and think of my community and my family and my faith, and I would simply be present in those in-between times of lightness and of dark, thankful for the incredible life I have been given.

I believe that this first season of the church year invites each of us into times like that. Fresh on the heels of the greatest American holiday ever created, a time when each of us is steeped in gratitude and thinking on all the things in this life that are good and special and sacred, this is a perfect time for us to prepare our hearts with great intention and to give ourselves the most precious gift we can in preparing for a beautiful new day; time. Presence. Gratitude.

I feel a fresh affinity for each of the characters in our Advent story; because each is required to make their own journey to the little town of Bethlehem where their lives will be forever changed. From Mary to the magi, each character is beset with unique challenges and obstacles; Each comes with their own intention behind their journey. And each of them is asked to take a risk and to accept an illogical invitation to believe in something beyond the typical way of seeing the world; to witness a power greater than their own, and each of them accepts their invitations to do just that.

This season of the church, with so much focus on the balance of power between the light and the dark, and so much hope wrapped up in swaddling cloths dares us to believe in something more powerful than the common story. The Advent journey invites us to put our skepticism and our analytical minds aside and to accept our own invitations to believe in miracles and omens. We are invited to join the journey, to move at the speed of life and take the step by step road that will lead us to a place of new hope, new light, new life and new peace.

Most of my favorite memories of the Camino are when the darkness and the light were in a sacred dance with each other; when the sun was just rising or when the clouds were just breaking or when the night was just descending or when the moon was shining brightly in a dark night sky. Those are the times when it felt like the universe conspired to demand my attention, and grace would sweep my busy thoughts away and require that I attend to the here and to the now. And those were the times when I felt the reality of peace, and those were the times when I could hear the angel voices.

The choice to make the Advent journey a sacred one is up to you; and you can begin by asking yourself three simple questions. How are your feet? Preparation requires us to be mindful of where we stand, how we walk and what direction we’re going. How heavy is your pack? The burdens we carry can be difficult to bear; especially when if we don’t know how much we’ve got on our shoulders. And then, why do you want to make this journey? What is it you seek? I hope that you will find what you are looking for, even if you don’t realize you’re looking for it yet.

Amen.

Bless our awakening, O God
And may we come to our senses.
Enliven our eyes, our ears, our fingers and toes; awaken our lips and bless our nose.
Remind us that there is so very much in this life to bring us the joy and the peace and the sweet, sweet surrender we seek. From the beautiful lights decorating our trees and the night skies to the evergreen scent that always brings with it powerful memories of sacred space and times past.
Prepare our hearts for our Advent journey- with courage to face each new day with kindness and consideration. With love so unfathomable that even the trees will know our blessing. With sweet songs of the season set to bring a tear to our eye for their beauty, and the powerful pause that comes when the busy world is hushed.
May remember that there is just as much blessing in the darkness as there is in the light; and though we may be hard pressed to admit it, this season begs for our hearts to be jolly and light.
Bless our awakening, O God, and bless this journey we make as a family of faith; pilgrims on the road, helpers on the way, angels in disguise. Blessed be.