MEDITATING…

Stage 43 / Monday 8 June / From Mauléon to Gamarthe / 27 km

 

I begin the seventh week of my pilgrimage. Converging toward the Pyrenees, several possible itineraries rejoin each other, and so one meets more and more people, packs on their backs, with their white shell, emblem of their walk toward Compostela. These increasingly numerous pilgrims show that I am not the only one searching for spirituality, although a good portion of them are really only seeking a physical exploit: being able to say “they too have done the walk.” For those, some of whom deny the reality of the divine, the term pilgrimage signifies primarily itinerary. I too oscillate between these two modes of thought, sometimes I am on a true pilgrimage, sometimes only on the path, depending on whether or not I seize the reality of God.

 

Always desirous of being able to meditate more calmly in peace and avoid conversations too often futile, I let these groups of pilgrims pass me, and I slow down to better appreciate the wonders of the nature surrounding me.

And here is a frog, sitting on a mossy rock at the foot of a fountain, covered by vegetation. She is frozen, awaiting a possible prey, a thirsty insect that will land near her. The thin stream of water flowing from the fountain, moved by the wind blowing toward the mountains, sometimes is reduced to a softened sound on the moss, then rebounds noisily splashing on the rock. Here is a good illustration for me of the spirit I was thinking of a few minutes earlier: this spirit come from beyond sometimes penetrating my thoughts (like the water penetrates the moss), sometimes surging out (like the water bouncing off the stone).   The water flows continuously down, because of its weight. Is it thus with the spirit, always ready to penetrate the moss of my brain? But if I accept the reality of this notion, I can also make an analogy between the gravitational field which never stops its pull where there is mass and a “spiritual field” which never ceases to be available to my brain, and splashes out to others. Toward my lovely frog perhaps, releasing its instinct to unroll its tongue to grab a fly coming to drink?

The frog on the mossy stone of the spring

 

Gravity and the keystone of the vault

And if I put this concept of field of the spirit on a religious plane, putting a capital on the word Spirit, then I can remember the mysterious phrase of Jesus to Nicodemus (John 3:8) “The Spirit blows where it will.” In the same way the gravitational field acts wherever it wants, and especially there where it must, when I allow the two arches of a vault to incline toward each other but be stopped in their course by the “keystone”! Remove this key and the vault collapses! It is not insignificant that the Scriptures use this concept of capstone, the keystone that prevents collapse.

 

This is especially what Paul’s vision of the Christian community expresses in his letter to the Ephesians (2:19-22): “So then, you are no longer strangers nor sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone. Through him the whole structure is held together and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord; in him you also are being built together into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit.” How is it that I could imagine earlier my stages as the pillars of the vaults of a cathedral? There are decidedly troubling coincidences, if not high-spirited (Spirited?) ones which force their way into my thoughts on the path!

 

“Appearance, reality? Why must I doubt everything when it would be so much easier to just believe everything?” I tell myself, envious of my tranquil frog who asks no questions! But if prayer brings comfort, if religion helps tame the idea of mortality, even suppressing anxiety in the face of death, I strongly rebel against the excesses to which it may lead: our daily news is witness to the increasing excesses of these suicidal jihadists who blow themselves up in order to suppress those they consider as “infidels.”

 

So must we prefer a strictly philosophic approach to any religion? An approach limited to observing the world and drawing conclusion only by intelligence? Yes and no, because there too, multiple ways of thinking have blossomed and collided. What one hopes to obtain by scientific intelligence too often leads to forgetting the philanthropic angle: for example, look at the excesses to which the theories of eugenics have led. Such excesses might surge again with the new progress in biological engineering …

 

I wade in the mud around the fountain, as I wade amidst the arguments presented to me concerning the reality of God. It’s crazy how much has been said or written on this subject, but is there a single argument which has been seen as convincing? In this profusion of arguments, for or against, can I escape the question mark? Evidently not, since there are so many in my notes of stages … In any case, I have the impression that God plays at eclipsing and reappearing along my route. He teases me, through his many faces, as if He wanted to postpone as long as possible my discovery of His reality!

 

I use my hat as a bucket to draw water from the fountain clogged with brambles, and I take a long drink. Then I go to stretch out a moment in the prairie grass, hanging my hat on a post to dry. I enjoy warming myself in the sun, and the meditations swirling in my little brain lull me into a comforting little nap. After nearly an hour I awaken suddenly and set off again quickly, surprised at having relaxed so long. And it is two hours later, arriving at the end of my stage, the village of Gamarthe, that I realize with astonishment that I have forgotten … my hat!