'All faiths take part in pilgrimages – or, to put it another way, long walks with a purpose.' Photo: by Ronan Furuta on Unsplash
A pilgrim’s progress: Huw Morris takes it in his stride
‘It certainly helps me.’
Last month, I went on a walk – the second stage of a longer walk, from Winchester to Canterbury. In December I had hiked from Winchester to Box Hill, along the Pilgrim’s Way. On Wednesday 17 April, the 637th anniversary of the beginning of the pilgrimage in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, I undertook the second leg of the journey, from Box Hill to Canterbury.
Walking long distances has always been a big part of my life, but I don’t know if I’ve always understood why. Looking back on my latest expedition, I think I have found the answer. Part way through the walk I caught a train to London, to attend a meeting of the British Pilgrimage Trust, at St James’ Church, Clerkenwell. The speakers explained that all faiths take part in pilgrimages – or, to put it another way, long walks with a purpose. Muslims travel to Mecca and Medina, Sikhs to Amritsar, Hindus to Ayodhya Ram Janmabhoomi. Christians have gone to Canterbury, Jerusalem and Santiago de Compostela, among other places.
According to the historian Tom Holland, widespread Christian interest in pilgrimage can be traced back to the eleventh century, and to beliefs based on John’s writing in the New Testament about the rise of an antiChrist. In 1033, on what many believed was the thousand-year anniversary of the crucifixion, thousands of Christians went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to witness the end of days. The world didn’t end, but pilgrimages became increasingly popular over the next 400 years, before being banned in England in 1538 by Henry VIII.
I have been wary of going on pilgrimages, but as I journeyed back from London I realised that my visits to Swarthmoor Hall and Pendle Hill were really pilgrimages of a sort. Quakerism today, historically wary of ritual, does not warn against taking them. But pilgrimage does not have a central role in our faith and practice. Whether or not it is open to the charge of idolatry and ritual, it is not these things that I value in my walks (though I do visit the churches and get my ‘pilgrim’s passport’ stamped at each stop). Instead it is the time for quiet reflection.
I travel alone, and the walking is a kind of meditation. Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist monk, popularised such walking meditation. He emphasised the practice of mindful walking as a way to deepen our connection with our body and the earth. Meanwhile, the Japanese practice of shinrin yoku, or ‘forest bathing’ as it is often referred to in the west, is a simple method of being calm and quiet among the trees, observing nature around you while breathing deeply. This can help people to de-stress, and it boosts health and wellbeing in a natural way. It certainly helps me.
So, after my walk to Canterbury I have no tales to recount, as might have been told to me by the modern equivalents of Chaucer’s chivalrous knights or bawdy millers. But I am a lot more relaxed – and, a week later, a lot less achy. I do recommend it.
Comments
Please login to add a comment