…ARE WE BEING CONSTANTLY CONTRUCTED BY…
Stage 13 / Saturday 9 May / From Monistrol-d’Allier to Saint-Alban-sur-Limagnole / 35 km
Chapel of the Madeleine in Monistrol-d’Allier
The rough steep path that you find on leaving Monistrol, after crossing the Allier river, brings you in less than two kilometers to the chapel of the Madeleine. A simpler structure than the one dedicated to St. Mary-Magdalene in the La Sainte Baume range [a 50 km drive East of Marseilles], this troglodyte construction nestles in a grotto dominated by a rugged basalt cliff. You must tip your head way back to admire these volcanic rocks which pay homage to the ancient volcanic past of the Auvergne [the central mountain range of France]. So I stand in awe of the incredible forces which sculpted these crystalline rocks almost as hard and brittle as a flint stone. Forces much far superior to those I’m using to lift my head!
Great or small, mysterious or pleasing, I often feel a force which raises my thoughts, like that which raised the thoughts of those who created the myths, beliefs, and chapels! This was undoubtedly the same force that animated those who awakened in my childhood the sense of the “divine” and who encouraged me to study the possible connection to God that we call religion: my mother, then the catechists, then the priests.
In the school where I became a boarder at the age of 8, some of the priests, who taught that science of religion, also knew how to teach math, Latin or Greek. As a result, I put all these subjects on more or less the same level. And when I got to adolescence I experienced admiration for the complex purity of mathematics, and their useful application to physics or chemistry. But I was then more inclined, in my deepest interior, to reject the apparent uselessness of Latin conjugation or Greek grammar.
In the same way, I tried to liberate myself from the constraints of religion, even if it often enabled my thoughts to rise to a certain level of very pleasant exaltation. On the other hand, religion imposed a moral discipline of my body. And my body was then easily delighted by young emotions unknown up to now, and I sought to avoid such constraints by all means! My mentors were trying to build in me a solid, multi-disciplinary structure. They were stamping rigid precepts in me, supposedly enlightening and “structuring” my future. But a certain natural confusion welling up during the same period of my life from my innermost being made me shrink into myself and escape …
There was a gap between my intimate self and what others wanted for me. And although I subsequently was happy to affirm that those school years had only a weak influence on me, I think I was lying to myself: they have remained for a long time the cause of a certain disorder. Confusion that I still feel, no doubt, since one of the reasons for making a pilgrimage was to better analyze it, in the most objective way possible! And great is my impatience to reach the conclusions of this analysis, which I hope will be impartial …
In the meantime, I find that I am progressing very slowly in this stage today. Here is a sign of this impatience to arrive at the end of the path: I stop a local person to verify where I am. Why this impatience under my skin? I wanted to be relieved of all urgency, to be “zen”, taking things as they come on this pilgrimage. What is this need to meet others when I wanted my walk to be solitary? Why this intuitive pretext showing an imperious need to reassure myself? A few strides further, there appears one of these numerous signs bearing the famous sea scallop [the emblem for Santiago], which proves my anxiety unnecessary.
It accompanies me still this innate desire of my youth to want everything, immediately, and with the least effort, and to believe myself capable of distinguishing the ideal recipe for structuring myself in a sure and definitive way. How difficult it is to show patience and confidence! And yet, how often in my life was it unexpected events which led to important and beneficial changes of direction!
The modest chapel I saw this morning under the solidified magma, bending beneath its basalt organ pipes, invited me to look higher and wider. Yes, its image has grown in me, to the point that I imagine it becoming a cathedral whose immense vaults defy the pitiless yoke of gravity. With its pilasters and flying buttresses, here is the real image of dynamic structure of considerable volumes, which make the intentions of its builders sky high and celestial. Instinctively, I lift my eyes toward the celestial vault, and I delight in imagining the ceiling of my cathedral.
Just at that moment, “Flap, flap, flap!”: a passage of wood pigeons spreads rapidly, inspiring me to link: “bird” -> “feather” -> “writing.” Quick, I must retain these thoughts before they fly away. Writing will allow them to rest more visibly on a less taut thread. The exercise will be a way of structuring myself. I pull out my pencil and notebook!
Prudence though, I must avoid abrupt and sharp affirmations if I don’t want to cut this suspension wire which will allow other pigeons to pause there! Their company will be pleasant to imagine. But will it be solid this hen roost wire? It is too easy to believe in the apparent robustness of that which is not weighted down by the effort of constant self-doubt!
In any case, I’ve proven myself a more robust structure today than I would have believed: in arriving at St. Alban-sur-Limagnole on this Saturday evening, I realize that I have just made the longest stage yet since my departure. I’ve covered 36 km, nearly 48’000 steps. I’ve never built a cathedral, but if I dare compare my pilgrimage to such an edifice, which once finished will consist of hundreds of columns, I can tell myself that the column completed today is of impressive size, and built of numerous sizeable dressed stones! Am I thus being constantly constructed?
I covered 140 km the first week and 141 km the second week. This journey on foot, which seemed terrifying at the start, is becoming more and more routine: it is in forging that one becomes a forger, in laying down one stone after stone that one becomes a mason! Practice makes perfect!
