by George Bailey.
Last week I enjoyed a long two day walk on the ‘Camino Ingles’, a pilgrim route officially recognised as a section of the Camino de Santiago. It begins at Finchale Abbey, a few miles north of Durham, because that is where many early 12th century pilgrims from the area would go first, before embarking on their journey to Spain, in order to see the resident hermit, Godric. After his own wanderings across Europe, initially for money and adventure, and later, inspired by a visionary meeting with St Cuthbert, as a follower of Christ, Godric had discerned a new call instead to anchor himself in one place. Granted a plot of land by the monks in Durham he stayed for decades, dedicated to prayer and to be available for counselling seekers and pilgrims – Godric exemplified the life of a hermit, anchored to one site.
This contrasting conjunction of pilgrimage and anchoring, both in the life story of Godric, and in the experience of pilgrims, including now myself, opens insights into the way that these two vocations are both important in our conception of discipleship. This relates to two important aspects of the Christian conception of God. On the one hand, God is not confined by any limitation and God’s Spirit is active throughout and within all creation. On the other hand, God is uniquely located in Jesus Christ, divine and human together in one particular bodily individual. We might suppose that the experience of pilgrimage relates most closely to the everywhere-ness of God and that of anchoring relates to the particular located-ness of God. I think, though, it may be the other way round.
As Rodney Aist argues in his excellent theological analysis of pilgrimage, the practice is not about an aimless drifting through general ‘space’, but is instead defined by a spiritual desire to reach towards a particular ‘place’.[1] Pilgrimage affirms and connects people to the vital divine importance of the material reality of specific destinations. Though in Roman Catholic theology this has often been focused especially on objects, in the form of relics, the relevance of a particular destination and a chosen, often communally defined, route are also central characteristic features of the Protestant experience of pilgrimage. By leaving our usual place of residence and travelling through space towards a specific destination, we celebrate the way in which God is encountered in particular places, limited by physical boundaries, time bound and unique. The incarnation in Jesus Christ most supremely reveals this, and pilgrimage is an exploration of our desire to meet Christ in the real singular moments and places of our lives.
The vocation of a hermit, and even more so of a formally recognised anchorite, confined a human life to one location, but through this becomes a witness to the eternal immensity of God who is not confined and whose Spirit is active throughout all space and time. The decision to practice ministry and mission by staying in one place, to pray and talk only with people who choose to visit, is an act of faith in God whose work is not restricted by human material limitations. Another medieval anchorite, Julian of Norwich, is shown in prayer a round ball the size of a hazelnut, and God reveals there is contained in this all that is made. The intense focus on life in only the small place of one room proclaims faith in the immense God who is real everywhere: ‘It needeth us to have knowing of the littleness of creatures and to naughten [hold as nought] all thing that is made, for to love and have God that is unmade.’[2]
In scripture these twin themes are both affirmed – for example, in Genesis, Abraham is called to a life of pilgrimage, which heads eventually towards a particular place and vocation for the people of God; in the gospel of Luke, Zechariah is called to a life anchored in the temple, which is visited eventually by the Christ who is to be the light of God for all the world. In the missionary development of the Acts of the Apostles, we see both vocations working together, some who stay rooted with faith communities in each location and some who travel between them and then on to new places. We also need these complementary vocations in the Church. Some are called to stay and some are called to go; we need both anchors and pilgrims. In our own discipleship there may be different seasons for each vocation to be at the fore. Although pilgrimage is increasingly part of contemporary discipleship practice, perhaps recognition of some people’s vocation for anchoring a community, committing to a locality for the long term, needs to be celebrated afresh.
In Methodism it is too easy, and in my view, unhelpful, to too closely relate these twin vocations to the distinction between ordained ministry and everyone else’s ministry. For ordained Methodists, ‘itinerancy’ does not mean constantly relocating, but obedience to the Church’s discernment of how God is calling ministry to be shaped – which sometimes means a decision to stay. In my experience many others in church life are more mobile than the ordained, responding to professional and family vocations which require relocation to live elsewhere. Many indeed move between countries, following the call of God to a new life, or escaping crisis and seeking refuge. In these experiences, we long to see the work of God’s Spirit who is active with all people in all places, as well as the reality of Christ’s presence, uniquely revealed in Jesus, and so affirming each loving human encounter. This is central to what it means to be the Church – those who are rooted in local places, ready to welcome and offer hospitality, meeting those who travel and seek – anchors and pilgrims in solidarity.
[1] Rodney Aist, Pilgrim Spirituality: Defining Pilgrimage Again for the First Time, (Cascade Books, 2022). chapter 13.
[2] Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, translated by Elizabeth Spearing. Penguin: 1998. p.47.
Theology Everywhere 