Rock, Stick, Water!

In listening to the lectionary reading this past Sunday, hearing about taking a stick and jamming it into the sandstone red rock (Old Testament), and that Jesus is the living water, my mind traveled to being in the middle of the Sinai desert this past Spring. My friend and fellow pilgrim Henry showed us how a nomad or Bedouin takes a sharp, pointed stick and stabs the reddish sandstone rock, which holds water within the very strata of rock, and, "Voila!" Water! It is a water that is good for camels and sheep to drink, though Henry was very clear: do not drink the water. All of God's "critters," great and small, need water.

Living in the drought-stricken American southeast, we know full well that water is both a necessity of life and a resource that is a non-renewable. All the water we have upon this planet is the same amount as was around the time of dinosaurs. Water is a resource that is finite, and in order for everyone to have enough, we have to be sure that we only use what we need rather than what we want. And that is why the claim of Jesus, being the living water that we can have as much as we need and want, is an incredible gift: "The water that I give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life" (John 4:14).

On pilgrimage, water is key for our survival and enjoyment on the trail, because of the physicality of the pilgrimage: we always need to hydrate. Jesus Christ, being the "living water," is what--or who--we need for each and every step of the way on our pilgrimage of life. God is at work when we recognize our reciprocal need and let the Holy take it from there.

Bien camino!

Pilgrim peace,

Brett

A Music Pilgrimage

I'm always struck by the way the word and practice of "pilgrimage" is used in this world. For example, when talking about our upcoming film/documentary/television pilot, we've focused on both the sacred sites and holy people, as well as secular sites and people, in which people experience something that people would call "spiritual." These sites/sights would include going to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, but also Graceland in Tennessee, where Elvis Presley lived...and is buried. While there are candlelight vigils in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, there are also candlelight vigils at Graceland on the eve of the anniversary of Elvis' death.

Today in the New York Times, there was a beautifully written article on the Martin guitar home in Nazareth, PA, in which Peter Gerstenzang writes eloquently of the spiritual experience Martin guitar lovers have when visiting the building where the guitars are made: "Even though Nazareth, Pa., isn’t quite the holy city its namesake is, pilgrims with a musical bent still go there every weekday in search of a potentially spiritual experience. They head to a quaint brick building, lured by the promise of taking a tour at the C. F. Martin & Company guitar factory

The tour itself also makes use of modern headsets, so you can hear the guide’s narrative above the impressive whine of guitars being birthed. But once the pilgrims make their way and start seeing guitars in various stages of completion, that holy look creeps back into their eyes. Sometimes, mixed with tears.

That was the case last October with Beverly Goskowski, from nearby Hellertown, whose horn-rims showed a studious side, but whose leather jacket whispered, “rebel.” Ms. Goskowski really did think of her trip to Nazareth and Martin as something, well, related to the soul.

“I came here seven years ago with my granddad,” she said. “He passed over the summer, and I guess I’m trying to recapture the fun we had when we first came. Or to say goodbye to him. I don’t know which, really.”

Ms. Goskowski said all this in a strangely amplified voice mangled by the headset. She wept a bit, removed her glasses, wiped her eyes and chuckled at the tender moment being distorted by a modern contraption.

“Granddad, whose name was George H. Giltenboth, didn’t play an instrument or anything, but he loved music,” she said. “When we went on the tour, he kept grabbing the tour guide’s arm, asking her to repeat certain facts, always calling her ‘honey,’ or ‘dear.’ He loved being here.”

Click here to read the read of the article.

Bien camino,

Pilgrim peace,

Brett

Walking Disciples

Today's Gospel of Mark reading focused upon the two sons of Zebedee talking among themselves as they were on their way, following Jesus, trying to figure out which of them was the best disciple. Imagine: having a conversation of who was the best disciple in the presence of none other than the Messiah! You have to simply love the disciples at times...which Jesus did!

That's the thing about walking on pilgrimage: when Jaqui (my friend from NZ) and I were walking to Santiago, or when I was walking with others on pilgrimage, we would begin a conversation that would be as meandering as the path itself. Walk and talk reflected each other on the pilgrims' way. And it was in the conversation itself that we would reveal more about who we are, even to complete strangers who soon became friends along the way, as we talked, became more vulnerable, intimate and transparent with one another. It is in the middle of such acts of transparency that we soon move beyond acquaintances to friendship!

Bien Camino,

Pilgrim peace,

Brett

Congo is Purple! Maps and Pilgrimage

The Rev. Julie Love did a wonderful job of explaining to the children of the parish of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in San Raphael, CA where Congo is on a world-map during a children-based worship service yesterday (1st Sunday of Lent). On a big world map, we could all tell that in the middle of the African continent was a purple shaded country: CONGO (shouted all the children with rhythm instruments in their hands and shaking joyfully at the word "Congo"). A Lent color for a country of Africa.

In our pilgrim based life, we some times need to have easy to identify maps to know where we are going, or to locate where we are on the pilgrimage. And color coded helps!

Bien Camino,

Pilgrim peace, Brett

Olafur Eliasson's Art Helps Us See How Being Pilgrims on Pilgrimage Changes the Physical World

When I am on pilgrimage, walking through the wine country of northern Spain, sitting on the edge of desert oasis in the middle of the Sinai Peninsula, or rambling around the Basilica in Equipulas before the statue of the Black Christ, I do not necessarily think about how my foot step (more than a carbon footstep) changes the physical world in which I and we live.

Olafur Eliasson, an Icelandic artist, changed all that for me. He takes materials found in the natural landscape, like light, air, water, and moss, and puts them to the service of art work in which we are immersed and changed. We see in his art our impact upon the very structure of the world in which we live and have our being.

At the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, his installed works of art are on display: I walked on creaky wood boards that caused a screen in front of me to show ripples of vibrations from my footstep. I stood next to a gentlemen before a screen of falling misty water, and as he simply waved his sweater at the exhibit, the water danced and moved in beautiful spirited arches, dips, and curves.

As Sr. Stef Weisgram reminds me, on pilgrimage, we do not only walk through the land, but the land leaves its mark upon us as well.

Bien Camino!

Pilgrim peace,

Brett

Ashes

Tonight my mom and I went to Ash Wednesday worship at my home church, Valley Community Presbyterian Church, in Portland, OR. The mark of the ash upon the forehead drew many reactions from many within the sanctuary: a one-year old boy, held in his mom's arms, said (appropriately) "Uh-oh" as the ashes were placed upon his head. I always find myself taking a breath and pause to realize the radicalness of the gesture of smudged ashes upon the heads of the youngest of the young. A pew full of young boys kept pointing to their foreheads, laughing quietly and asking each other "Do you see the smudge on my forehead? See it? Cool, huh!" Some teenagers did not want their hair smudged when the ashes were put on their foreheads, so they went for the ashes upon their wrists. I was impressed by the way that, as the service went on, the noise and chatter in the sanctuary fell away to silence. Slowly, some of the older members of the congregation came forward, hearing the words, "Thou art dust, and to dust you shall return," knowing that in the coming months and years, these words would be true.

With smudged ashes upon our foreheads, my mother and I went to Fred Meyer's, a supermarket chain in the Pacific Northwest, in which the young women at the cash register asked, in complete seriousness: "What's on your forehead? Chocolate dust?" My mother and I thought they were joking at first, and went along with the act, until one young woman simply said, "I really don't understand why you have chocolate dust on your foreheads." Our first evangelical moment for the season of Lent came into play as we explained the reason for the ashes: "It is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent in the Christian Church."

Thus the pilgrimage of Lent has begun again. While yesterday there was the anticipation of the Lenten Pilgrimage to begin; today, the pilgrimage has begun. "Uh-oh" may be the right response for right now.

Bien Camino!

Pilgrim peace,
Brett

Shrove Tuesday: Pancakes Anyone?

Shrove Tuesday always carries a sense of anticipation of the pilgrimage that is Lent. I am writing this from my parents's home in OR, where my mom and I are planning to celebrate with a hint of debauchery McCormick and Schmick's Restaurant after 9:00 P.M., where there is a Happy Hour redux.

It is the rituals of the Church, along with the Scriptures, read and performed by the members of the body of Christ, that keeps us on the pathway of following the Pilgrim God!

Not to be too flippant, but "Party On!"

Bien Camino,

Pilgrim peace,

Brett

Transfiguration: Our Exodus

When standing outside the grounds of the Church that is located on Mt. Tabor, our friend Henry Carse reminded us that when Jesus was on the top of Mt. Tabor, along with the prophet Elijah and Moses, he turned his face, and thus his entire life, to the direction of Jerusalem, miles away, and more than a day's walk. Wherever one's face is set, the feet must follow. Thus, setting his face toward Jerusalem, Jesus was set on his Exodus to set not only the Chosen People free, but Gentiles as well. All of creation would be set free on this Exodus, this pilgrimage of freedom.

On the eve of Transfiguration Sunday, I am reminded of being on the top of Mt. Tabor one Sunday, and then on the top of Mt. Sinai a few days later, celebrating the Eucharist, the Lord's Supper, a meal that gives sustenance on our earthly pilgrimage, as a tangible, real, concrete reminder of who and whose we are. "Take, eat," and "Take, drink," body, blood, given, for us.

So while Jesus celebrated Passover in Jerusalem proper, it was here, on Mt. Tabor, that he truly began the pilgrimage that we now call Lent.

Pilgrim onward!

Bien camino!

Pilgrim peace, Brett

On Pilgrimage, Some Times We Simply Move Onward!

This image of the young man carrying the cross caught my attention this morning. With everyone staring off into the distance, and no one coming to assist this young man, he is focused on carrying the cross. Yet the young man moves forward, carrying on, doing what he must, with no apologies.

Such as the art and act of pilgrimage!

Bien Camino!

Pilgrim peace,

Brett