Pilgrimage (The Catholic Version of a Music Festival) Pt. 1

"If music be the food of love, play on."

- Twelfth Night, Shakespeare

      Most recently there has been plenty of articles about going to music festivals. There's the pre-festival hype, the "how you know you survived (enter name here) music festival," and the post-festival blues. While I've never experienced going to a music festival as huge as Glastonbury or Coachella, I participated in a walking pilgrimage this weekend and based on what Buzzfeed has to say, they are basically the same thing. Only a pilgrimage has way home to offer. 

     While I couldn't participate in the entire 3/4 day walking pilgrimage, I was blessed enough to participate in the last day during which I walked just about ten miles. The group with whom I walked started at St. Adalbert's Parish in Port Richmond and walked for three days to the National Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in Doylestown. That's a lot of miles and a lot of walking. People of all ages partook in the pilgrimage from various different places. Overall, there were about 3000 people at the closing mass. The youngest pilgrim was only a few months old and the oldest was 79 years old. There were families, single people, children, babies, and older people. There were people who spoke only Polish and people like me, who didn't understand a single word. Oh, I forgot to mention that 99% of the pilgrimage was in Polish. So, needless to say, that was an interesting part of my journey. 

      As we walked, we prayed, we listened to faith witnesses, we sang, we danced, we praised the Lord. We made friends, sisters and brothers. Despite not being able to speak the main language of the weekend, I was able to connect with so many people. I was surrounded in so much faith and felt closer to those with whom I walked and prayed. I experienced God in a brand new way and it was beautiful. The faith sharing, the pain from walking so far, the getting to know people on a faith level, was beautiful. 

      We made it to the shrine about 12:15pm and we were to celebrate Mass together at 2:00pm. As we were waiting for Mass to begin, we watched the church get filled and packed like sardines. People were every where, even on the altar. I felt that despite never having experienced something to this capacity, I felt like I knew all about it; like I had read about it some where. Then I saw a few girls walk into the church with those weird flower headband things people wear. That's when I realized, I had read all about something similar this pilgrimage. Music festivals are all the rage and the similarities are insane. Here's what I discovered: 

1. Pilgrimages are filled with music, clapping, and dancing. Just like music festivals (duh). People walk with their guitars and play it at the most random times. All the cool kids have one. There's also drums, violins, flutes; you name it, it's there. People just join your walking group with instruments and play right along with whoever is there. Even when you aren't walking and you're sitting for a break, there's music being played somewhere. If someone can't play an instrument or didn't bring one, there's always a voice to be heard. People who can sing, sing and people who can't sing, sing. There's lots of clapping, dancing, and laughing. The only difference between music at a pilgrimage and music at a music festival? We sing hymns instead of pop culture music. 

2. Showering is few and far between. Basically you shower the morning of the pilgrimage, then walk all day only to sleep on a Church hall floor. There's no showers. The next day, same thing. Walk all day, stop at the Church, no showers. Three days of this. If it rains, you're going to get dirty. To keep packing light, you bring maybe two sets of clothes. You're going to smell. You're going to get sweaty. You're going to have terribly stinky feet. Your hair will be knotty, greasy, icky. You're children will be even dirtier because somehow kids always manage to get dirtier when they do the same activities as parents. You're going to have to get comfortable with the fact that everyone stinks after three days. And don't even think about apologizing for your stench. I repeat, everyone stinks. 

*according to my sources pilgrims do shower. I rest my case, however, because there were no showers in the church hall. They get water...somehow!*

3. You're going to get very close with people. At music festivals one typically pitches a tent in a field of tents. You get to know your neighbors pretty quickly because if not, you'll forget where your tent is. On a larger scale, pilgrimages do encourage you to pack a tent or a hammock. The truth is on a walking pilgrimage, one is never really sure where he or she will be sleeping. In this case, people were camped out on church hall floors. EVERYONE WAS IN ONE ROOM. That's right, babies, kids, parents, single people, everyone. Imagine getting some sleep after a very long day of walking. By day three, you're bound to be exhausted. 

4. You make friends in the most unique ways. In many cases, music festivals bring together people from every language and culture. Pilgrimages, too. Now while this pilgrimage was mostly a Polish pilgrimage, there were still people of many different cultures represented. People say the universal language is love. Most times I agree. But this weekend, there were two universal languages: coffee and God. And since God is love, well I guess the universal language was LOVE. Truth is. It doesn't matter, it didn't matter what language I spoke. People were grabbing my hands, dancing, singing and talking with me whether I understood them or not. You learn how to communicate despite a language barrier (I had a personal translator though which was fun. Thanks, Sister!). The people you walk with are suddenly your sisters and brothers. They hug you, kiss you, make you dance and sing and feel like a complete fool for Jesus. It's amazing. 

5. You are forever changed. A pilgrimage changes you. Whether you walked because you wanted to, someone invited you, or you were basically fighting the Lord and someone dragged you along, you will be changed. You will not be able to recognize your feet after a few days. I kid you not. Your feet will probably be covered in bandages, gold bond and have a number of blisters. You will have terrible tan lines, too. Especially if you're a nun. Talk about only have tan wrists, ankles and ears (but only half way). Your feet, face and hands will be so physically changed. But don't worry, it's only temporary. Your heart will change, too. You will feel a peace, joy and excitement like never before. There is nothing more beautiful to me than a group of people singing, dancing and chanting praise to the Lord. At music festivals you experience the praise and worship of various different rockstars. At pilgrimage, you experience the praise and worship of the ultimate rockstars: Jesus and Mary. Your heart will unknowingly be changed by the sacrifices, the witnesses, the homilies, the sacraments. Your soul will become closer to Jesus and there's no question about it. You will feel this indescribable joy rising in your soul with every drum beat, every clap, every footstep. It feels like a thousand drum beats rising in your soul. It's amazing. 

And finally...

6. You will experience a post-pilgrimage depression. The whole time you are walking, you are walking on public streets and pathways. People driving or walking by will think you are crazy. Yet, as you are walking, you wave and think about those crazy people who do not yet know the truth of the Lord's goodness. Why aren't they joining us? you think. And just when you think that, people run and join the back of the pilgrimage. Your whole life for however many days was simply music, joy, peace, prayer, love behind all description. When you leave, reality hits you hard. You must learn to communicate in a normal way. You will experience a reverse culture shock when you go home. Living your day to day life for Jesus will be difficult again because you are no longer surrounded by people who sing and dance and pray. And as much as you might like to do that all the time, basic reality says, not exactly. However, there are plenty of ways to infiltrate your pilgrimage experience in your every day life. I promise; life after pilgrimage exists. 

     Pilgrimages aren't exactly like Musical Festivals, but the sentiments that people feel when they go to one are similar. I encourage each Catholic young person, child and old person alike to do a pilgrimage. Whether it's a day, three days, two weeks, whatever, do it. Music Festivals are great but here at pilgrimage, there is God. Jesus is present, He permeates this place. He lives and breathes and is so real. You can feel the arms of our loving Mother around you in every hug and embrace. You experience beauty in a whole different way. It's amazing. 

     Of course, the truth is that whether you experience a walking pilgrimage like I did or not, you are a pilgrim. We are pilgrims on a journey from the day of our Baptism. Our life is a journey in finding, loving and living in relationship with Jesus. Our walk from our pews to the altar during Holy Communion is a pilgrimage. It is a reminder that as we live and breathe we are journeying with Jesus.  So journey. Get those good shoes (sandals and socks) on and begin living out your journey for Jesus. You're on the journey, just out your heart in it. Trust me, my sister or brother, pilgrimage is an experience like no other. 

Fluff Removal

"If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, 

be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear."

- A.A. Milne, "Winnie-the-Pooh

     A few weeks ago, I was asked to give a talk to middle school students at an EDGE program. I was asked to speak about vocations and my personal discernment journey. As I was preparing for this talk, I was struggling with how to relate this to the students. Of course, it wasn't until I arrived there that I thought of how I could do it. I usually relate communication with God to music as there is usually at least one student who plays an instrument. While I did that, I also related it to one of my favorite Winnie-the-Pooh quotes. 

     Winnie-the-Pooh has always been a favorite of mine to quote. Of course, Pooh has even more significance as I get older. He not only reminds me of one of my closest Sisters but he also seems more and more relatable. And whenever he pops up, I feel like I am getting a special sign from God. So, because he is so familiar to me, I felt it was perfect to share with the students the above quotation. 

     I told the students about the quotation and I said that sometimes God is speaking to us but we have fluff in our ears. I asked them to imagine having an earache and having the cotton ball the nurse gives us in our ear. Remember the feeling that you know someone is speaking but you can't really hear them that well? Well, that's how fluff is. But sometimes some people have more fluff than other people. Pooh has warned against this fluff stuff. And our God is so patient that He understands when we have fluff in our ears. He speaks and waits for us to remove the fluff. Although, sometimes we even need help removing the fluff.

     I want to go back to Winnie and one of my closest Sisters. I'm not sure why but she loves Winnie-the-Pooh. As I went through my college years, I began to feel more and more like a Piglet to her Winnie-the-Pooh. Piglet is always unsure of things and Pooh always has the answers. Pooh always had something of significance to say, even if it sometimes didn't make sense. He was confident in whatever he said, confident in whatever he did, confident in who he was. And of course, he was patient. He was so because he recognized that sometimes fluff happens. Sister was always that figure of Pooh to me. And I was always Piglet. My favorite Piglet/Pooh conversation? "Piglet sidled up to Pooh. 'Pooh?' he whispered? 'Yes, Piglet?' 'Nothing, I just wanted to be sure of you.'" Sometimes we don't need words, we just need to be sure of one another. And I always felt like I needed to be sure that Sis would always be there for me. 

     So, when I started telling the students about having fluff in their ears and not being able to hear God's words clearly, I began to also hear Sis say, "remove the fluff from your own ear." I'm not sure if that's something she would say, but I could imagine her relating my current spiritual distress to Pooh in some way, shape, or form. And because that quotation was so fresh in my mind, I figured she might equate it to the fluff in my own ears. I told the students that God is always speaking to us, we just simply need to listen. And even if we listen really, really, really hard, if we have fluff in our ears, His voice won't be clear.

     A few weeks before I gave this EDGE talk, I had signed up for a silent, private retreat. I had been searching for silence. As an introvert, I need silence and alone time to function. However, I am in a profession and ministry that surrounds me with people. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it had been seemingly difficult to find some silence and alone time. So, out of spiritual desperation, I signed up for a silent retreat. Confirmations from God always happen in threes for me. So I had called another Sister friend and asked her about her suggestion for a silent retreat. She mentioned the place where I had just booked my retreat. I then went to one of the Sisters with whom I work and asked for her suggestion. She said the same place. My third confirmation came later when my Dad told me that my grandfather with whom I had been very close in my early years, had often went there for retreat. I knew I was meant to go there. I knew that my needs for silence and for a retreat was real. 

     It has been a while since I've been on retreat and so it was time for one. I felt I needed silence, not necessarily a directed, silent, retreat, but just silence. I was ready and excited to go and be away from all the confusing, conflicting, exciting, energetic aspects of my life, because truly in the past few months, things have just built and built. I knew this because I know myself. But when I was speaking to the students, I realized, my confusion was probably coming from not being able to listen and hear God clearly. My own confusion was coming from having a small (or rather large) piece of fluff in my ears. And so, in a few minutes, after the final bell of the day rings, I am going to embark on my journey to a silent retreat. I have packed a few prayer books, my bible, my journal, some looseleaf, some snuggly pjs but most importantly, I have my walking boots. The only thing I plan on doing aside from participating in liturgy, is walking and walking pretty far. I will walk in silence to a place where I can remove the fluff and finally, hear God's voice clearly again. As I've told a few people, I'm going on retreat to figure out life. But in reality, I never will. Only God knows His plan for me. 

     And so, as I embark on this journey for the weekend, I have reached out and asked people if they have any special intentions they would like me to carry with me. My students, co-workers and friends have filled two pages back to back of intentions. I will carry your intentions with me as well. My journey begins in about ten minutes. I'll start be grabbing a Chestnut Praline Latte for the long car ride and I will be on my way. You're in my prayers. And to give you your own experience of silence, I'm not adding a song this time. Enjoy. 

Shoeless Joe Jackson Celebrates the Triduum

"Down the Via Dolorosa, called the way of suffering,

like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King.

But He chose to walk that road out of His love for you and me.

Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to Calvary."

- "Via Dolorosa," Sandi Patty

     These are the days I live for: the days of the Triduum. Out of all the days in the year, these three are my absolute favorite: Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday. Lent is my favorite Liturgical Season, as you may have read in an earlier blog, but these three days are absolutely perfect. Once Palm Sunday rolls around I get super stoked. Except this year, my energy was a little low since I  was still a bit under the weather.

      Monday of Holy Week started the three day Busy Persons Retreat that God wanted me to partake in. Loooooooong story short, I had not signed up for the retreat, which essentially lasts about three hours over the course of three days where you meet for a daily hour-long meeting with a spiritual director. At the end of our final play on Sunday, I was listening to my voicemails when I got one from Sister Mary Jo, my retreat spiritual director. After working through all the confusion, we decided to meet for the first time after work on Monday night. In all honesty, meeting with Sister Mary Jo as my spiritual director for the three day retreat was the most fruitful three hours of my week. We read the psalms together (ironically two of our favorites...139 and 116) and prayed with them. She also asked me quite a few questions about the Scriptures and my life in general. One question I remember in particular: What are you most looking forward to during the Triduum? I couldn't quite answer honestly because there were just so many things I was looking forward to. But I told her about my personal Holy Thursday tradition of visiting the seven churches. Ironically enough, I didn't get to do that this year.

       I woke up to my little sisters begging me to take them out for the day. And since I had some shopping of my own to do before the Triduum festivities began, I figured why not drag them along to the Mall with me. Of course any car ride with Lizzie means surrendering my cell phone to her so she can keep herself occupied. In the middle of a game of Temple Run 2, a text message from Sister Marcelina, CSFN interrupted Lizzie. That meant...I got my phone back. Within a few seconds, my plans to simply go to my home Parish for Mass and then the route of seven churches I had planned out earlier in the week were changed. Suddenly, I found myself agreeing to join her and her brother (who is a Pauline Father) at the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa for Holy Thursday Mass. How blessed and beautiful it was! Of course, the car rides to and fro were quite entertaining as they consisted of conversations of mice in the trunk and heart to hearts about my vocation. 

       When I agreed to go to Mass, there was a part of me that was so unsure to go out of my traditions. I was also afraid I was not going to understand a word of what was going on as they often have Mass in Polish there. But, God is good, and Mass was in English for me. However, there were plenty of people surrounding me whose first language is Polish, Sister included. As I was listening to the readings of the Scriptures, I began to reflect on feet. I know, two days ago it was hands, and now feet...but bear with me and see if you can follow where I am going here.

      Back in Jesus' time, every one either wore sandals or no shoes. They didn't have paved roadways or sidewalks to walk on. Instead, they walked in the dirt, mud and rocks. Absolutely, positively disgusting. It's like walking on the beach forever but with the addition of mud and rocks. Ouch. From what I've heard, before entering a person's house, you would most often remove your shoes. So imagine, Jesus and all his disciples, after walking for days in the dirt and mud and rocks, enter into this room where they will soon share a meal; none of them have shoes on and it stinks. After the meal is over, Jesus gets up, takes a pitcher of water and starts washing the disciples' nasty feet. Gross, man, gross. Not only is He washing the dirty, disgusting feet of the disciples, but He is also the "Master" or the "Teacher." Typically, a servant or a slave would wash the feet of the guests, but Jesus is doing it. He once again, humbled Himself to the form of servant, to wash the feet of His disciples. Of course the disciples are either all : "Ok, this is weird, Jesus. No way are you washing my feet," or "You're gonna wash just my feet? Better do my head and hands, too; I'm pretty dirty." And then Jesus responds by saying, "I am going to wash your feet." So He does it. All of this is playing through my head as Father Nicholas is washing the feet of twelve men on the HUGE altar at the Shrine. 

     I have been known, at random times, to be caught without my shoes in Chapel while praying. In high school, I would leave my clumpy, combat boot shoes at the doorway of Chapel and walk up the aisle, find a pew and just sit and be with Jesus. Sister David, CSFN told me once she always looked forward to seeing my shoes at the door of Chapel after school. At school now, often times I'll do the same but only at Marian Chapel. Sometimes, I won't even wear my shoes down from my room. Just last Sunday, Palm Sunday that is, I was walking down the hallway with my stockings on when Sister Regina, IHM saw me and said, "Bec, you barely have anything on your feet." I just smiled and shrugged as I continued to Chapel. I hate wearing shoes, and if I could, I'd go barefoot anytime. Someone told me once that it was very Franciscan of me to do that. But, because it's illegal in most places to not wear shoes, I keep them on. Except in Chapel. Even during Mass, I can be caught swinging my bare feet under the pew. Here's why: Sister Mary Annette, CSFN, once told me that where Jesus is, is Holy Ground. Just like the disciples would have removed their sandals before entering the House of the Lord, we should remove our sandals before entering God's House. God's House, is after all, Holy Ground. God also tells Moses in the Old Testament to "remove the sandals from your feet for where you are standing is Holy Ground." So, it essentially became a little tradition for me, to enter into the Chapel with socks or tights on, or to remove my shoes at some point during Mass. It's subtle, so most people would never really know, unless for some reason, you just happen to look at my feet. 

      While I was reflecting on the feet of the disciples last night, I realized that just because the washing of the feet was over, the prominence of feet wasn't going away. You see, Jesus was stripped of all His clothing and most importantly, His sandals before He was forced to carry the cross to Calvary. I realized this as I was swinging my bare feet under the pew (Ok...I had tights on...). I couldn't imagine the pain that Jesus must have felt while not only walking up hill, but while also carrying a huge and heavy wooden cross. As I was trying to fathom this, I felt in my heart, a whisper to join Jesus on that road to Calvary. What exactly did that entail? Well, not wearing shoes of course. And I had already accomplished step one: taking my shoes off. 

       About halfway through Mass, the gentle, old Polish man next to me realized I had no shoes on. The look on his face was priceless. As I told Sister Mary Jo, IHM, I often try to visualize what the Scriptures are saying and so I was doing the same during Mass. After our "Last Supper" during Holy Communion, I decided to remove my shoes for good...well, until the end of Good Friday liturgy. I imagined Jesus and his disciples walking through to the garden just to pray. It is the Garden that I visit at seven different churches, that is, staying up super later just to be there with Jesus. As we processed from the church to the chapel, I felt the cold marble under my feet and imagined the cold of the desert like ground the disciples and Jesus would have walked on. I knew when we got into the car that I most likely wasn't going to make it to seven churches that night, but I could keep my shoes off. So I did. 

       After Sister Marcelina and I made it back to St. Katherine's and participated in Night Prayer, we walked through the convent so I could wish my sisters a happy Triduum. At this point, it was close to 10:30 at night, Jesus had already been arrested. I stood shoeless in the kitchen while we chatted for a few moments and soon, I was headed out the door and on my way home. Don't tell my mom...I drove home with no shoes on. This morning, I woke up, put on the same tights and went about my morning visits to the various Chapels and Repositories to pray with Jesus some more. I started at my home Parish, where I joined a solitary soul in Chapel. When I was leaving, she turned to me and thanked me for being so open on my blog. I was surprised; I didn't know she read it. I continued my journey outside to pray the Stations of the Cross, something I absolutely love so dearly. It was about eleven in the morning, Jesus was just finishing up His being questioned. He still had His shoes at this point...mine were long gone. 

       I visited a few more chapels and then headed home. Around noon, my family decided it would be a good time to go out food shopping. So, I donned my shoes for this adventure. But soon, we were headed home again and I enjoyed a small nap. At two, I woke up with this intense, burning feeling in my heart. It was Jesus calling out to me, to go with Him, to carry His cross. So, I left the house in a haste, shoes in my hand, and walked to church from my house. At first, it wasn't too bad. The black top was warm, and smooth since we just had our street re-paved last summer. But a few blocks later, I was feeling the rocks in my heel and between my toes. And trust me when I say, I know there's tons of broken glass out there. I began to really think how grateful I was for having shoes to wear on my feet and I understood the pain Jesus felt as He walked to Calvary. A few people I passed by looked on questioningly and a little boy even asked his older brother why I was carrying my shoes. I had to laugh...no one asked Jesus why He wasn't wearing shoes; they thought He deserved it.

      Well, I finally made it to church and as I knelt (yes, I knelt :)))) ) I had the most beautiful conversation with Jesus. I didn't NOT wear shoes for attention from anyone, nor for any other reason other than Jesus called me to it, so I did it. And out of curiosity, I wanted to know what He felt. I left my shoes off for our Good Friday service and quite a few parishioners came up to me and asked me where my shoes were. I simply shrugged. I wasn't going to actually do a blog about going shoeless until one of the parishioners asked me why I wasn't wearing shoes. And then three more people asked me. So, I decided that I would just to clear up all the confusion.

      So, yes, I got this crazy idea last night in the middle of Holy Thursday Mass to go shoeless for a day. But it really wasn't as crazy as it first seemed. In going shoeless, I had a conversion of sorts. I may not have understood what it meant to walk in the dirt and mud, but I understood the rocks. I may not have carried a cross, but I carried my shoes and the prayers of all those I promised to pray for. I may not have walked three miles, but in the twenty minutes of walking through Croydon shoeless, I had a deeper understanding of Christ. Somehow, I know it was truly Jesus who called me on to this mini sacrifice. I know it was Him who whispered into my heart to take off my shoes and walk with Him on His way to Calvary. I took my shoes off because Jesus knew I needed something to help me go deeper in faith with Him. Besides, where Jesus is, is Holy Ground and and Jesus is everywhere, so every where is Holy Ground. I'm not suggesting you walk to church in your bare feet, but maybe next time you're at Mass, just slip your shoes off and let your feet experience what it's like to stand on Holy Ground. Besides, look how far Jesus walked shoeless out of love for you and me...what's a few minutes bare foot?