Camino Santiago Pilgrimage June 2000
Introduction
On June 15, 2000 I was forced out of my comfort zone, familiar surroundings, proximity to family and friends, and daily habits; all that tethers our existence and keeps us grounded. I would carry my ‘home’ on my back for the next 10-12 weeks; with no set agenda, destination or timetable, free to follow my ‘spirit’. Free to respond to events as they unfolded each day.
The Camino Santiago called me and seems there was no alternative but respond. Today tens of thousands of Christian pilgrims and other travelers set out each year from their front doorstep or popular starting points across Europe, to make their way to Santiago de Compostela. Most travel by foot, some by bicycle, and a few travel as some of their medieval counterparts did, on horseback or by donkey。 In addition to people undertaking a religious pilgrimage, there are many travelers and hikers who walk the route for non-religious reasons: travel, sport, or simply the challenge of weeks of walking in a foreign land. Also, many consider the experience a spiritual adventure to remove themselves from the hustle bustle of modern life. It acts as a retreat for many modern “pilgrims”.
What happened to my free will? Circumstances beyond our control often influence our decisions more than we are comfortable admitting. St Augustine wrote “Lord, you provide the pricks that move us in the direction you want us to move.” St Augustine was referring to the stressful teaching conditions in Carthage that prompted him to move to Rome. There is no doubt in my mind that our Lord supplied the ‘pricks’ that compelled me to abandon my comfort zone and plunge into the ‘darkness’; a life with no boundaries or constraints.
About 2-3 weeks before catching the plane to Paris my life was pretty normal; a full time job, a mortgage, a car payment and some credit card debt. Main stream society had me firmly in its grip; a slave to the consumerism and materialism of our culture.
At work, on a Thursday late in May, went to chat with the general manager, an acquaintance from a previous job. While having only been on this job for three months I was very uncomfortable with my colleagues, the work and the owner. My philosophy on life at that time was incompatible with the business style and personality of the owner. I wanted to resign but would stay on until he could find a replacement, which in my mind would leave me with a month or so to find myself alternate employment.
The next day, Friday, the general manager informed me that this would be my last day; apparently the owner felt the same way about me. Manifestation of the first ‘prick’, I found myself unexpectedly and abruptly unemployed.
Saturday cried on my sister’s shoulder, lamenting about being at yet another fork in the road with no idea which way to go; no job, no job prospects and all this debt … what to do?
Sunday brought the decision to buy two ‘House for Sale’ signs, planted one in my front lawn and another at the corner of the street. Selling the house would provide more options; failure to sell the house would mean finding another job … quickly.
By the following Tuesday … only two days later the house was sold and the purchaser wanted possession in two weeks. The second ‘prick’ just appeared … and so quickly. The Lord must be in a hurry to get me somewhere. Now I have no place to live, no place to work and still no idea what to do next. Wow! … Did that happen fast!
During the next several days while cleaning out the kitchen cupboards I found the ‘Credential’ for the Camino Santiago. This ‘Credential’ was one of the souvenirs from my visit to Santiago Compostella almost exactly a year earlier; in June 1999. The Credential is required for admission to the many Hostels along the Camino Santiago.
In a flash it all came together, it was time to go for a long, long walk; I would attempt walking the Camino Santiago. No research, no planning, no preparation … just go!
June 9, 2000
A few days later, as the reality of my recent decision started sinking in, anxiety came along in its train. Serious questions popped into my mind.
· Why a pilgrimage?
· Where is this pull/push coming from?
· Where did it start?
· What are my sincere reasons for going?
There were no easy answers to any of these questions. Was this simply another escape, running from the two recent failed attempts at building a lasting friendship? For the past five years my few remaining friendships were evaporating; uncomfortable feelings of isolation were steadily creeping into my life. Uncertain whether this was self imposed or God’s will for me; remembering that my parish priest told me several years ago if God was calling me, He would take me alone. Hmmm
Something is drawing me to the ‘pilgrim’s way’ and something else is pulling me back … the familiarity and pleasures of life for almost 50 years.
Oh! … What a struggle!
St Augustine wrote sixteen hundred years ago … “Oh you torrent of human custom! Who can stand against you?”
Did I really want to rebel against mainstream society? Perhaps my frequent griping and whining was simply a result of my failures playing the game according to society’s rules. Vacillating between moderate success and serious failure; never resolving that restlessness feeling. St Augustine wrote “Lord, our hearts were made for you and they will remain forever restless until they find rest in you.” Hmmm
Where is the truth? Will I ever know? Is this particular pilgrimage another attempt at discovering the TRUTH … my truth … or strictly vanity?
There appear to be only two possible motivations for this pilgrimage; escape or discovery? I simply don’t know. I will know by the ‘fruits’ … the outcome.
It’s rare indeed the occasions when people act without “an investment in the outcome”. When we pursue pleasure of any sort, a quiet walk through the forest, a night out, or a relationship we drag along our personal investment in a favorable outcome. All are undertaken with an investment in the outcome. We travel to our favorite location to begin our walk with the expectation that the walk will be pleasurable … good weather, pleasant scenery, song birds singing etc
So how do we change this habit? Habit because it seems to be included in the intention of the term “human custom”, meaning acceptable human behavior. We are socialized or programmed to act solely with an investment in the outcome
Has this always been the case? My immediate response is yes. The Hebrews left Egypt and slavery with an expectation of liberty, peace and prosperity. They had an investment in the outcome, an expectation, a reward for their efforts. No wonder they whined and complained while wandering around the Sinai Desert. The desert experience did not conform to their expectation, their investment in the outcome.
This ‘investment in the outcome’ is at odds with the words in the Lords’ prayer … “thy will be done”. Many, many ‘spiritual’ people were able to somehow overcome these “chains of slavery”(torrent of human custom), whether they were Buddhist, Christian or Muslim. How did they conquer their habits? Many writings suggest “surrender” … dying to oneself as a prerequisite to being reborn … the seed must fall to the ground before new life can start.
This reminds me of the scene in the movie “Horse Whisperer”, when Robert Redford forces the horse to surrender. Redford binds one of the horse’s front legs yet the horse continues to resist, limping along on his remaining three legs. Only after the horse goes down on his knees and finally rolls over, surrendering its’ independence, can its healing journey begin. Perhaps it’s the same with a spiritual journey; only after we have completely surrendered our will, our need for self control, our self reliance; can God begin the healing process, the transformation.
St Francis of Assisi said something to the effect ‘the second death is easy, the first one is most difficult’. Seems he was referring to what is know as ‘dying to oneself’ … surrendering oneself completely and totally. For those people who successfully achieve this end, their physical death is apparently uneventful.
Seems logical enough …why is it so difficult? Why does one have to attempt it so many times before one succeeds? What does success look like?
I remember my walk in September 1994 along the highway between Cobden and Barry’s Bay. I don’t know how my frame of mind got to where I was able to walk into cold water with all my clothes on and attempt to drown myself. I was literally following the wind. Thinking of it now still gives me goose bumps.
A significant factor was my recent separation. Was that the whole reason? I ‘m sure there was more to it. I was experiencing a spiritual transformation of sorts for a year or so already … the milestone was the morning in the restaurant - Angie’s Kitchen. Maybe I need to plough through the bowels of my memory to reconstruct that morning. I will attempt it the next time I pick up my pen to write.
Later when sharing this bizarre attempted suicide experience with my parish priest, he suggested it may represent one of the baptisms described in John’s Gospel.(Baptism by water and baptism by fire). He was very candid, saying “Bruce … either you’re crazy or you’re destined to be a Saint”. He went on to say that if it was God calling me He would take me alone. I would have to go through the purification process … like gold is purified with fire. He was again referring to John’s Gospel … first baptism with water and later baptism with fire. Yikes! This sounded pretty intimidating.
What about my discovery that my first name is not Bruce; that I am not named after my uncle who died in World War II? My baptismal certificate and birth certificate both list my first name as Thomas. Is there some connection here? I am only now becoming the real me?
My notes from June 15, 2000
Woke up early, no clock in the house and no idea what time it is. Wide awake so decided to get up and head out for my morning coffee. In the car discovered it was 4:00 AM. Oh well! I’m up now … let’s go.
Scared … really scared … don’t know why. What’s a pilgrim? … Is a pilgrim a seeker? … Is a pilgrim a wanderer? Am I a pilgrim? … Do I want to be a pilgrim?
I’ve talked about it for several years now. In the last 5 years I’ve wandered around Israel a few times checking out the Biblical sights, climbed Mount Sinai twice, made several visits to Medugorje and toured the hometowns of several prominent Saints in Italy and France. The memories are mostly pleasant however; these experiences hardly qualify for pilgrim status.
Can one be a pilgrim and stay in the crowd? Work in a business whose only purpose for existence is accumulating profits; where one exchanges labor for the necessities of life … shelter, food and pleasure. How is it that even with all these human comforts so many people feel a huge emptiness inside?
I’ve gone down that street so many times now. Wanting to be part of modern community and wanting to be a pilgrim at the same time … it simply doesn’t work. Reminds me of the scene in the movie “Matrix” where the car stops and the man is invited to get out. He looks down the street and says something to the effect “Oh no. another dead end street, been there to many times, not going there again.”
I have tried to establish new friendships, offering myself and my new ideals … no takers … they all seem to be stuck in the ‘world’. The last two weeks were very difficult, every day being forced to face the trauma associated with unemployment and homelessness; every day forced to make a decision to remain unemployed and homeless; every day forced to accept the lonely life of a pilgrim. How long I can keep this up? The temptations to return to the ‘world’ have been severe. Seems I’m being given the opportunity to walk alone with God … my decision or His?
Questions … only questions! No answers!
"In my times of trouble mother Mary came to me … speaking words of wisdom … let it be … let it be” (Beatles song)
Oh! How difficult it is to achieve the state described with these simple words of wisdom “Let it Be”… Why? … Why? Humility and patience don’t come easy.
AgainSt Augustine’s words come to mind … “Woe to you, torrent of human custom! Who can stand against you?”
Maybe the answers lie in St Augustine’s words … I found these few words so profound.
The pace of life today is so fast. So many authors and individuals speak of the speed of life these days … the ‘microwave’ society … the instantaneous gratification society.
The ‘torrent’ in St Augustine’s sentence leads me to believe that the ‘force’ is very real, it’s the invisible force behind today’s’ pace of life that keeps us from being still. We can’t stay still … we are caught up in the turbulence. This has always likely been the case … is today any different than any other time in history? Not likely, simply a question of degree.
The desert fathers, hermits, monks in history all seemed to acknowledge the ‘torrent’ and all wanted to ‘escape’, seek shelter in isolation … Why is the escape to isolation so necessary?
I am just now reminded of the story of Elijah … he too was seeking God. In his Mount Sinai experience where he thought he could hear God in the thunder, the wind and finally he discovered God in the silence. Is this it? We need silence and solitude to meet our God!
Many say we all yearn to know God. How can it be otherwise if we are the created and God is the Creator? It can’t be otherwise. We are caught up in the “torrent”. We are in the “flock” which is on the move at breathtaking speeds and all we can see is the ‘asshole’ in front of us.
We can’t stop; we can’t move sideways, backwards or in any direction and still survive. We must keep up with the ‘flock’ … “Woe to you, torrent of human custom! Who can stand against you?”
So why or how is it that some people who have been ‘stuck’ in the ‘flock’ for so long suddenly find themselves on the peripheral of the ‘flock’, with the choice; continue to move along with the ‘flock’ or move away from the ‘flock’ into isolation and solitude.
Any attempt to pull away is met with serious resistance. We are pulled back in; the force is so strong, the familiarity, the comforts and the pleasures of the life we know. Most of us choose to remain inside our ‘bubble of comfort’. Resisting these temptations is humanly impossible. Only by the Grace of God do we have the strength to resist.
So what is the reward? Here I am this morning, struggling with the feelings of being blessed and being cursed.
Drawn out of the ‘flock’(crowd) and pointed in a new direction. The new direction is complete ‘darkness’ as in the book written by St John of the Cross ‘The Dark Night of the Soul’.
So what is the ‘dark night of the soul’? The journey of our inner self to union with God; where our physical self resists the efforts of our soul every inch of the way.
Feeling tears, sadness and joy all blended together. The prospect of meeting my God is so exciting, yet so intimidating! My parish priest’s comments of five years ago … "If God is calling you … He will take you alone. i.e. One cannot meet God in the crowd, not even in a crowd of two.
These memories are somewhat comforting when I consider the possibility that my efforts, however weak and insubstantial, may finally win the prize. Not likely! Forever the pessimist eh!
Where was I? Meeting my God, being drawn into isolation and solitude, the prerequisite for the ultimate blessing of coming face to face with my God. Oh how thinking and writing these words brings tears … tears … and more tears.
I’m feeling a bit better now … I’ll go for my morning walk.
June 16, 2000 … Leave for Paris
Arrive in Paris with mixed feelings, lacking clarity on where to go from here. The two options that prevailed were a visit with Sarah in Lille or return to Lisieux to visit Ste Therese. Surprisingly neither option involved getting started on my walk. The desire for solitude won the day, decided to head for Lisieux for a couple of days of rest, slow down and get my bearings.
I’m sitting in the train station in Paris where zillions of people are coming and going; the opposite of what I am looking for. I really feel out of place, although regularly enough a part of me wants to return to the hustle and bustle of the ‘market place’ and endure all that comes with it.
Why am I here? Where am I going? Am I making the decisions? Am I pushing for something that is not meant to be?
June 18, 2000
Why Lisieux? I’m not sure but finding that money while cleaning out the closet inside the card of Ste Therese is reason enough for me. I’m also thinking it will be cheap. Yuk! How money seems to dominate my decisions. Why? Without finding the money in my closet and the expectation of free or very cheap accommodation would I still be here in Lisieux this morning?
How was the visit? Quite enjoyable, quite moving; influenced no doubt by the memories of my last visit. The tender moments in the Carmel Convent, the reminder that Ste Therese is the Patron Saint of Missionaries. Wondering to myself if that is where I am headed; to a degree that is where I’ve been. I recall the occasional moments where I felt I was doing missionary work at the office in Guelph. At the time some colleagues even referred to me as Father Bruce. Seems to me I was ‘preaching’ to some extent, tough crowd though, caught up in the fast pace of life.
The small chapel behind the Pain de Vie was lined with acknowledgements from Our Lady of Lourdes. While sitting quietly in this chapel the feeling come up that I should visit Ste Bernadette in Nevers on my way to Spain.
Just writing this reminds me that in 1994 Rebecca and I were looking for Ste Therese’s shrine when we found ourselves in Nevers and accidentally discovered Ste Bernadette. Now I’m in Lisieux being directed to Nevers. Hmmm
Here is the story about how I come to know both Ste Bernadette and Ste Therese.
Rebecca and I were in Belgium at the time, visiting the gravesite of one of my uncles who died in World War II. He is buried in Flanders Fields. Rebecca had long harbored an interest in Ste Therese and really wanted to visit her shrine; while at that time I’d never heard of her.
We went to enquire at the local parish rectory. A kind elderly priest didn’t know but he took the time to investigate. He found some reference to Ste Therese in an old book in one of the cupboards in his office and told us we would have to go to Nevers to visit her shrine.
Reluctantly I agreed to drive the 800(??) kilometers to Nevers. We couldn’t find the shrine and after driving around Nevers for a while we decided to stop and enquire at the next church. Since I could speak some French, I sheepishly entered the church to try and get directions to Ste Therese’s shrine. I learned there is no shrine dedicated to Ste Therese in Nevers! However, this particular church has a glass casket with a nun inside who looks like she died yesterday.
Expecting Rebecca to be disappointed; was quite surprised that she became animated when I explained the glass casket to her; she also knew of Ste Bernadette. Today I learned about Ste Bernadette; both she and Ste Therese have been a very strong influence in my life since this day. A year later I found myself in Lisieux visiting the shrine of Ste Therese … alone. This incident is yet more evidence of my walk with God … alone.
The circumstances surrounding my first visit to Lisieux are full of mystery, a story worth sharing.
On the same trip involving Nevers, Rebecca and I visited Assisi. The visit was quite pleasant … nothing ‘spiritual’ … at least nothing that was in my conscious mind at the time. While in Assisi I got a ‘heads up’ on the fact that Interpol was looking for me, I purchased a book about the life of St Francis and a 2 volume series about St Teresa of Avila thinking it was a book about the Ste Therese Rebecca talked about.
The countryside was immensely picturesque, rolling hills etc. Assisi was the first authentic ‘walled city’ that until now I had only read about in history books. Seems this real life observation of a city surrounded by walls would come back to mind many, many times when reflecting on human nature and the evolution of mankind. The walled city is the child or grandchild of what we know today as the nation state … e.g. Canada. Wonder what the next major shuffle of social structures and societies will bring?
In February 1995 while living at the Maples Inn in Guelph, the only place where you could rent a self contained apartment for a day, a week, a month etc. I was still very much in limbo … no job … no hobby … no purpose etc. I read St Teresa of Avilla’s book and particularly remember the section titled ‘Interior Castles’ … deeply moved or touched by St Teresa’s writings about her mystical experiences. Learned later that many scholars consider her writings on mysticism some of the best available; yet she was an uneducated Spanish peasant.
Also read the book on the life of St Francis … again deeply moved and touched… difficult to explain.
For example, one night while lying on my bed I heard the name Jesus in my mind. I can’t remember if I intentionally attempted to form the name or if it arrived in my mind without any effort on my part. A few seconds later I felt an ‘electrical current’ in my body. I can’t really explain the feeling. I decided to intentionally speak the word Jesus … my lips didn’t move … this all happened in my mind. Again the same result; like an electric current running through my body. I was afraid to do it again. This experience left me with an unusually quiet and peaceful feeling.
Within days of this experience the decision to enrol in some kind of Franciscan association was born; perhaps finding something to do with all my free time. I called my parish priest who had helped me a lot in the previous couple of years and he told me about the Third Order of Franciscans. An organization of lay people involved in various activities. He also mentioned there may be some in London Ontario.
For some reason I didn’t take his advice, decided to go to Toronto instead. Without understanding why, drove to Mississauga and pulled into the first major hotel, went to the lobby and started looking through the yellow pages under ‘Franciscan’. After making several phone calls, and actually talking to a Franciscan, Maurice Richard. I remember saying to myself at the time that I would remember his name because of the Montreal hockey player of the same name. Brother Richard was very kind and friendly on the telephone and we would exchange letters (only one) several months later where he informed me that there is only one true ‘spiritual director’ … the Virgin Mary. All others who claim to be spiritual directors are, at best, cheerleaders. St Teresa of Avila’s comment … something to the effect ‘don’t send me any more dumb priests’.
Somewhat disappointed with my research I decided to head home; seemed like just another ‘dead end street’. A spontaneous and impulsive action with no basis in logic, actions rooted solely in ‘faith’ … a faith that seemed to be failing me at the time. Or so I thought … was I in for a surprise!
As I was pulling off onto the ramp for the 401 I passed two young women hitch hiking. Decided to stop and give them a ride … not sure of my motives … was I feeling charitable (Franciscan) … was I lonely … who knows?
The young women were hitch hiking to London on their way back to school. They were pleasant young ladies so I decided to drive them all the way to London; a considerable distance past Guelph … hmmm. Here I am on my way to London … the place my parish priest suggested … the advice I chose to ignore the day before. … Hmmm.
Along the way, I am pretty sure somewhere past the turn off to Guelph, the young lady in the back seat starts to talk about her experience on a kibbutz in Israel. My ears perk right up; this topic is very appealing. She doesn’t say much, only that people who go to a kibbutz, work six days a week in exchange for free room and board. Sounds perfect to me … a chance to wander around Israel … within my budget!
The kibbutz movement in Israel started in the 1920’s. It’s basically a commune where all property is held in common, no member owns any private property. What a concept! Sounds like the early Christians described in Luke’s Gospel. 20th century Communism was also a move in this direction and we all know how many countless lives were lost, both in the attempted implementation and later by the Western powers attempts to stamp out Communism around the world. Hmmm
The next day I visit my sister and ask her for a ticket to Tel Aviv on the next available flight. At this time Air Canada provided what they call ‘buddy passes’ … staff could give these buddy passes to family and friends. The holder could travel standby on any Air Canada flight for a nominal fee.
You can imagine the reaction from my sister and her husband. I had only been back a couple of months from my trip to Medugorje and here I wanted to ‘run away’ again. Remember her husband’s reaction in particular. He said to me … “Bruce … go to the Israeli consulate in Toronto, find out about the kibbutz program and then decide if you still want to go.” Being the strong willed (stubborn) and self reliant type, I ignored his practical advice and pressed my sister for a ticket. My sister, being the kind hearted soul she is … obliged and within a couple of days I was checked out of the Maples Inn and on my way to Israel!
Reflecting on these experiences today, seems there may be a connection between my ‘Jesus’ experience in my room at the Maples Inn and a few days later my rather abrupt and unexpected privilege of walking the very ground He walked during his life on earth. Scary!
Rev. Karban writes “Most of us live our lives as though they’re just a series of disconnected events. We rarely find anything to join and make sense out of even one day’s happenings, much less a lifetime filled with them. We constantly go from one thing to another without being able to “connect the dots.”
Socrates stated “the unexamined life is not worth living”. Surely, Socrates is suggesting that regular and sincere examinations of our life will help us to ‘connect the dots’, discover the thread that holds the countless events of our life together. Our self-portrait is painted by regular and sincere reflections on the ever growing repository of our life experiences… We will never know who we really are otherwise.
Arrived at the airport in Tel Aviv and found an information Kiosk where I was able to get directions to the administration offices of the kibbutz program. Found the bus into the city … overheard some ladies chatting behind me on the bus … in English … which is highly unusual in Israel. One of the ladies was explaining that the bus driver was nervous because another bus had just been blown up in downtown Tel Aviv … Yikes!! Welcome to Israel! My guess is the bus blew up about the same time the wheels of the Air Canada jet touched down at the Tel Aviv airport … must be an omen I thought to myself. I am not welcome in Israel. This thought foreshadowed my fifth and final trip to Israel in 2003 where I was almost arrested.
Found the kibbutz administration office. Within a few minutes I was being interviewed by one of the administrators; he had a strange look on his face. A look that says “What is this guy doing here enquiring about the kibbutz program” He asks me if I am familiar with the rules and regulations of their program … I respond … nope! He passes me a sheet a paper with the main regulations … the second or third regulation written on this sheet was … maximum age 32 … oh shit!!
My sister’s husband right! I should have went to the Israeli consulate in Toronto and checked out the Kibbutz program before travelling all the way here. This explains the look on his face … at age 43 I was obviously well over the age limit. He explained to me that most of the volunteers were between the ages of 18-22; young people trying to get away from parental influence and older volunteers had caused lots of problems in the past. I symbolize everything these young people are trying to escape from. Oh joy!!
I guess he recognized the ‘Oh Shit’ look on my face because he suddenly became friendlier. He asked me how long I intended to stay in Tel Aviv. I replied … I’ll probably grab a coffee and go home! He suggested I go for the coffee and come back in a couple of hours.
I went and had my coffee … surprisingly my feelings were peaceful, no anger, not particularly discouraged, not overly optimistic and no regret. that I had come all this way for nothing. I returned to the office a couple of hours later; and to my utter amazement found myself on Kibbutz Erez later that evening. Wow! … If I had gone to the Israeli consulate in Toronto as my sister’s husband suggested, I would never have come to Tel Aviv … synchronicity? It would be a few years yet before I learned the meaning of the word ‘synchronicity’ and it wasn’t until 2009 that I learned the connection between the word and Carl Jung. It was Carl Jung who first coined the term in relation to his pioneer work on unconscious collective.
Arrived at Kibbutz Erez which is less than a kilometre from Gaza; probably explains why the machine gun was laying on the front seat as I got into the jeep that picked me up at the kibbutz.
So here I am … a long way from Third Order Franciscan activity … yet it seems I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
The barracks where the volunteers live are not 5 star … a bit rugged … yet comfortable enough. Here’s something amusing … I am on a kibbutz … a Jewish commune … living with a bunch of ‘runaway’ or ‘adventurous’ teenagers … at best very young adults.
I set up an altar beside my bed … several miniature statues and a crucifix … you can imagine how much gossip this would cause around the kibbutz!
More about some of my experiences on the kibbutz later … perhaps one comical yet profound event before I leave this subject.
Kibbutz volunteers receive a spending allowance equivalent to about $75.00 per month which could only be spent at the kibbutz store, similar to a Mac’s Milk store. I would buy cigarettes and occasionally an ice cream treat or chocolate bar.
One day after my milking chores were finished, on my way back to my room for a rest … I stopped and bought a chocolate bar … a big one. I started eating it on the way to my room. A little further along there was a group of volunteers sitting on the grass chatting. One of them saw me coming and invited me to join them. I mentally agreed and while I was heading in their direction I got to worrying about my chocolate bar. I was in no mood this particular day to share my precious chocolate bar … see I am not very Franciscan at all!
I decide to keep my chocolate bar out of sight of the volunteers. I sit down on the grass and put my chocolate bar behind my back … for safe keeping!! …Wrong!! A minute or two later this big dog comes along grabs my chocolate bar and takes off with it. I lunge after the dog to retrieve my chocolate bar … no luck … the dog knew the value of his treasure … he was too fast.
You can imagine my embarrassment. I’m sure several of the volunteers would have figured out that I had selfishly hidden my chocolate bar from them so I wouldn’t have to share it. I made it kind of obvious when I lunged after the dog!
On that day and so many times since then I have tried to figure out the ‘lesson’ to be learned from this particular experience. The obvious answer is … it’s important to share … even personal treats!
Today I have another twist on the potential lesson … don’t know why after all these years I come up with this today? Perhaps the ‘lesson’ was intended to go beyond the ‘material’ world … something to the effect … if one doesn’t share the wisdom one has been given … it will be taken away.
I believe Kabbala teaches this truism … Kabbala is the mystical sect of Judaism. I believe they claim if their followers do not share what wisdom they receive from the Divine; the tap will be shut off so to speak.
I have always tried to be deferential with all my teachers; at home, at school, at work and at church. Though my nature is much too self-reliant and rebellious to comfortably subscribe one hundred percent to anyone’s teaching. Yet writing this book I am responding to ‘a lesson’ provided by a dog! Go figure!
Suppose it’s no different than the lessons I learned from the sheep I observed for several years. Come to think of it, experts say mankind has learned from animals since the beginning of time; claiming that in antiquity we learned which plants and fruits were edible by watching other animals eat them.
Wisdom is a gift; not to be selfishly preserved for our own personal pleasure and since it is received freely, not to be sold to others at a profit. This opinion renders the laws concerning the propriety of intellectual property immoral. St Augustine states that an unjust law is no law at all. Hmmm
Seems the same phenomenon was at work with the North American Indian mystic … Black Elk … he only recovered after he shared his vision and later his tribe developed a celebration around his vision.
During my stay on Kibbutz Erez I befriended a young man from France. He told me at one point that he felt drawn to me the moment we first met. After many twists and turns in the following three months we would leave the Kibbutz together on our way to Medugorje. During this trip he was kicked off the train near Kosovo. Mysteriously, I was given a Visa for travel through Macedonia and later learned because he was a French citizen he was denied this privilege. We would exchange one letter after this time but never see each other … living … again.
Several months later while staying in Medugorje for the third time I would be directed mysteriously to his funeral. How did this happen?
I’d been in Medugorje for several weeks and was running out of money. At the same time I was becoming increasingly restless, such a shock after passing several of the most peaceful weeks in memory. This restlessness would lead me to seek a way out of town; remember I have almost no money. After several days, my efforts to find free transport out of town were fruitless and I was prepared to go anywhere. I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t run away from my restless feelings.
One night a priest knocked on the door of the home where I was staying. He had gotten separated from his group and was looking for directions to the church. We chatted for a while and I learned he had exchanged letters with Ste Therese’s sister at the Carmelite Convent in Lisieux. Wow! … This was really exciting news for me, to meet someone who had actually communicated with Ste Therese’s sister.
I helped him find his way back to the church and meet up with his group. He told me I would be blessed for my kindness. Hmmm
A few days later I am sitting on an airplane headed for Lille France. The same airplane the priest’s group was traveling on. Apparently one member of the group couldn’t make the trip and this left the seat vacant on the return flight. All of this was free, the trip to the airport in Split, the flight, everything; didn’t cost me a cent. Another wow! Was this the blessing the priest was referring to the night I helped him find the church?
I have no idea where Lille is in France but something tells me it is near the hometown of the friend I met on the Kibbutz in Israel. I decide to try and visit him. During the flight I make some enquiries and learn that I can walk to his hometown from the Lille airport. Yikes!! Where is this trip taking me?
I do in fact walk into his village and again after several twists and turns I find myself standing in his home where his family is grieving his suicide of the day before. His sister asks me … “Bruce … Why are you here? It’s too late to help my brother”. I have asked myself the same question many, many times since.
I still have no idea how these strange circumstances came together … synchronicity? The restlessness in Medugorje, the failure to find a way out of town for several days and finally finding a free flight to France where I could walk to JF’s hometown from the airport … the convergence is certainly mysterious. As I mentioned earlier, I learned about the word ‘synchronicity’ from a Jesuit Priest who listened to my story shortly after my return to Guelph several months later. He used the word to describe my experience.
I attended the funeral and spent the next few days with his family. It was amazing … felt like the people in this small village knew me. Apparently JF shared much about the time we spent together in Israel with his family and friends. Left with no agenda and no destination, where can I go now? Decided to find Lisieux, and check out this Ste Therese Shrine that Rebecca and I tried to find about five years earlier.
How winding a road I seem to travel … am I to learn something from all this? I don’t know … all I know is most of the time I am prepared to go anywhere, feeling comfortable trusting the Virgin Mary will lead me … and when it is not the Her leading me, trusting that She will lead me back where She wants me when the time is right … Her time … not mine.
Back to my pilgrimage story … I am in Lisieux for the second time in a year trying to figure out what to do next.