Pilgrimpace's Blog

Good Friday
April 14, 2017, 11:35 am
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Crucifix from Monserrat

“Let us nail ourselves to him, resisting the temptation to stand apart, or to join others in mocking him.”

– Pope Benedict

the way

“I stop once again at the Iglesia de Crucifijo to see if I can feel again what I felt earlier in the morning in this great old church.  Well, it isn’t the same, of course; that seldom happens in life.  But something slightly different is waiting for me here on this second visit into the crucified one’s world: this camino is already more than a road for me.  It is a way.  It is his way.  I’m on it with him.  In spite of so many indications to the contrary, when all is said and done, I realize now, I actually like this way.  It is simple and true and. I now know, it is a way that can only be understood by walking along a road like the camino, walking as he walked, gazing at rising suns, passing through sunflower fields, tending to aching feet, eating and drinking with strangers, one step at a time but a million steps all in all.  Steps that get me there.”

– Kevin Codd To the Field of Stars


lenten journey 12
March 17, 2013, 4:54 pm
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“On a Theme from Julian’s Chapter XX”

by Denise Levertov

Six hours outstretched in the sun, yes,
hot wood, the nails, blood trickling
into the eyes, yes —
but the thieves on their neighbor crosses
survived till after the soldiers
had come to fracture their legs, or longer.
Why single out the agony? What’s
a mere six hours?
Torture then, torture now,
the same, the pain’s the same,
immemorial branding iron,
electric prod.
Hasn’t a child
dazed in the hospital ward they reserve
for the most abused, known worse?
The air we’re breathing,
these very clouds, ephemeral billows
languid upon the sky’s
moody ocean, we share
with women and men who’ve held out
days and weeks on the rack —
and in the ancient dust of the world
what particles
of the long tormented,
what ashes.

But Julian’s lucid spirit leapt
to the difference:
perceived why no awe could measure
that brief day’s endless length,
why among all the tortured
One only is “King of Grief.”
The oneing, she saw, the oneing
with the Godhead opened him utterly
to the pain of all minds, all bodies
— sands of the sea, of the desert —
from first beginning
to last day. The great wonder is
that the human cells of His flesh and bone
didn’t explode
when utmost imagination rose
in that flood of knowledge. Unique
in agony, Infinite strength, Incarnate,
empowered Him to endure
inside of history,
through those hours when he took to Himself
the sum total of anguish and drank
even the lees of that cup:

within the mesh of the web, Himself
woven within it, yet seeing it,
seeing it whole. Every sorrow and desolation
He saw, and sorrowed in kinship.

lenten journey – four
February 29, 2012, 2:56 pm
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Closing the Door


Across the world

hatred, hunger,

death, disease.


In the street

lost, damaged,

shouting angry pain.


Those we depend


choose the wrong side.


I come inside

close the door

and you are watching me

curled on your cross

on the wall.


Slow work

of  sacrifice and love.

Holy Cross Day
September 14, 2011, 2:10 pm
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John V Taylor in his excellent collection of sermons The Easter God quotes a Thomas Blackburn poem that describes how he and his wife discovered a broken crucifix in the Alps and brought back the worm-eaten figure to hang in their home:

Because it says nothing reasonable

It explains nothing away,

And just by gazing into darkness

Is able to mean more than words can say.


I haven’t been able to trace the poem this is from.  I’d be grateful if anyone can tell me.

via crucis
April 22, 2011, 7:54 am
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April 10, 2011, 6:44 am
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Our Lenten pilgrimage becomes much sharper as we enter Passiontide.

Almighty and everliving God,
in your tender love towards us
you sent your Son to take our nature upon him,
and to suffer death upon the cross;
grant that we may follow the example
of his great humility
and share in his glorious resurrection:

through him who lives and reigns
with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God now and for ever.