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28. BRING HIM HOME - Silence Has Deepened

November 27, 2011 Sarria 

"...we basically remain without shelter, under way and open until the final encounter, with all the humble blessedness and painful pleasure of this openness" (Fr. Alfred Delp SJ)




Yesterday was spent alone and it had an extraordinary level of silence, beginning with another beautiful dawn and the sun shone the whole day as I walked through mountains, valleys and small farming villages.

Alone, except for breakfast in a little village with Brend. As far back as Logrono I had said I would be with him for his birthday but with the pain in my foot I knew I wouldn't make it as far as Samos where he was headed. So I invited him for breakfast as a birthday treat. It was lovely but it had a certain loneliness in it because it was like we were saying goodbye. He looked directly at me and said in a wistful way "will you not come with me to Samos?" and I wished to God I could but knew I wouldn't be able for that distance. Maybe if I had pushed myself....

While walking I was singing 'Bring Him Home' from Les Miserables which reminds me of Cosmas who is "...like the son I might have known if God had granted me a son." More than that! Fatherhood has grown in me since Katie's birth, since meeting Cosmas. It is in me now for my young companions on this Camino. Fatherhood!

Saturday. I'm not a runner, not running but I'm imagining what it must be like in a long-distance race - taking a turn into the final lap, not knowing what might happen.

'Bring Him Home' sings itself in me and I'm thinking about the homeless, those exiled from themselves - the worst kind of homelessness. I'm praying for those who have been sexually abused by priests; praying about my own involvement in dealing with allegations made against some of our priests.

I have always felt diminished as a man when I hear about a woman being raped by another man; I feel diminished as a priest when I hear about the abuse of a child by a priest; I am somehow contaminated & wounded by my encounters with child abusers.

Praying for the abused I'm singing 'bring her home...bring him home...bring them home' and I become aware of the wounded child within myself whose wounds have been broken open by my recent involvement with the issue of abuse. And I can no longer simply pray for him or her or them - the prayer is for us, for me, for all the children.

Bring us home to the state and place where we belong, bring us home to ourselves, give us peace, give us joy. BRING HIM HOME - Sung by Colm Wilkinson

Into all of this an old woman arrived. It was in a small village. She was coming down a little lane with her dog, carrying firewood. When she saw me she ran and asked me to wait while she went into her house. A few minutes later she emerged with a plate of hot pancakes. It was as though she came to feed and comfort the wounded child and I accepted it as such because this is what I needed. When I had eaten she asked for a donation which I gladly gave. Later, other pilgrims complained about her because she was somehow on the make! But I needed her. And the comfort of her pancakes!

Afterwards I sat in the grass on the edge of the village where I met Pablo and Isodoro - father and son travelling together. Pablo is 31 years old,  an environmental scientist who is doing the Camino simply to look after his Dad who is doing it for spiritual reasons. Pablo is not doing the Camino for spiritual reasons but I said that what he was doing for his father is highly spiritual, the most noble of reasons for embarking on this journey.

We met again later in a bar near to Triacastella. Isodoro is VERY Catholic and enthusiastic about meeting a priest on the journey. I'm not quite as enthusiastic myself. My foot hurt so I sat outside on the ground with my boots and socks off, hoping for relief. Ramon came along, insisting that I take his stick which is fine and sturdy.

In the albergue I shared a cubicle with Jose Miguel and Javier and it is here in Triacastella I had the experience with the parish priest who didn't come for Mass and who wouldn't give me the keys until Isodoro demanded them. I have an idea Isodoro was a policeman!

Mark, Becky and I went out to eat and then I sat alone on my bunk while Jose & Javier were still out on the town. I was reflecting on the gospel of John 12:3 - "Mary, taking a pound of perfumed oil of great value, put it on the feet of Jesus...." It is always my desire to anoint the weary feet of Jesus, to pour out a perfumed anointing on the weariness of other's lives. What I give tonight is my own feet. I find myself saying to God, "take my feet and use them as your own...even to be crucified." A foolish enough prayer for one with an already sore foot!

Today is Brend's 26th birthday. Over breakfast yesterday I wrote the line of Psalm 139 on his guidebook - "I thank you Lord for the wonder of my being!" This evening I will light a candle for him in a church. It's Sunday - there's bound to be an open church!

It was an incredibly beautiful Sunday with a frost and fog that lingered well into the late morning. When I found the church in Triacastella closed I went to a bar for coffee and was joined by Daniela and Andreu. They have become an item along the way and look so young in their love.

I walked alone until 1pm, finding that silence has deepened in me, ecstasy heightened and a joy that can barely be contained. Stopped in a bar for lunch where Jose & Javier were just finishing and then Mark and Becky arrived. I love their company.

In the albergue I'm in a dormitory full of women I don't know. It's very cramped and much too warm.



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