It’s a bit rough having as the gospel on your saint’s day a story that shows you in a bad light, but we can all learn from it, in fact two things. Watch out for pushy mothers - they can make it very difficult for their children. And the second is: Jesus said if you’re going the great in my kingdom, you’ve really got to be a servant of others, even maybe a slave.
Well, James, the patron saint we share at Aston and Colwall, was great. He was James the Great. He and his younger brother John were fishermen, like their father Zebedee, and with Simon they formed that inner circle - because of Zebedee I’m tempted to say magic roundabout - of Jesus’ closest friends. Jesus gave Simon the name Peter, the Rock, and he also had a nickname for James and John. Because of their terrific enthusiasm, he called them Boanerges, Sons of Thunder.
And James, as we heard in the reading, was, at about the time of the very first Christian Aid collection - did you notice that in the reading? - he was the first of the apostles to die for his faith. Herod, a different Herod from the one who was around when Jesus was born, Herod had him beheaded. Then, much later, a peculiar legend grew up which had it that, soon after the resurrection, James had sailed to Spain to preach the gospel there. And he stayed for seven years before returning to Jerusalem, where - history kicks in again - Herod had him killed. Then the legend says that his friends, forced to flee, returned to Spain with his body and buried him there. But with the invasion of Spain by the Moors from North Africa, the place where his grave was was forgotten until in the 9th century it was pointed out to a shepherd by a star. Sometime later, a knight on horseback and in shining armour was seen beating back the Moors in a decisive battle with the Christians, and this, it was claimed, was St James himself.
And so, James became the patron saint of Spain, the symbol of the whole country being brought back to Christianity, and his shrine at Compestela in the north-west of the country became more and more important, eventually becoming the third most visited place in the whole of Christendom, after Jerusalem and Rome. And the amazing fact is that by the 12th century as many as two million people a year were making a pilgrimage to Santiago - the name Santiago means St James - Santiago de Compostela, along what became well-established pilgrim routes from France, Germany, Italy, Britain and even Scandinavia. They even had a sort of uniform - a heavy cape, an eight foot stave with a gourd attached to it for water, stout sandals and a broad-brimmed hat decorated with scallop shells, the symbol of St James, which comes from another bit of the legend. And of course in those days the round trip, there and back, could take months and months.
This Sunday as we celebrate the memory of St James, we are for various reasons jumping the gun. We’re ten days early; this is a premature patronal; his feast day isn’t until July 25th. And I remember the date well, because on 25th July 1988, we were there. Jill and I were fortunate enough to be there for the great celebration on St James’ Day in the magnificent cathedral at Santiago de Compostela. Sadly, our pilgrimage had to be by plane and bus and so only lasted a few days, but what a thrill it was to be there and how moving to know you were sharing the experience of millions upon millions of Christians over a period of nine centuries.
And what a festival it was! At midnight, that is the beginning of the 25th, the square in front of the cathedral was packed solid for a fantastic firework display, which culminated in the whole of the west front of the cathedral looking as though it were on fire, with fireworks shooting out from every orifice. No English dean could ever have allowed such a thing. And we got to church in the morning two hours early - I’ve never before or since been so early for a service. But is was a good job because soon every available space for sitting or standing was filled, and actually we were near the front and so had a marvellous view of all the processions and the service itself and also the botafumeiro. This botafumero is a huge silver censer for burning incense, not much smaller than me. It looks like a giant sugar sifter, and it’s suspended from the top of the nave at the crossing - about three times higher than this church, and then by means of ropes swung in an arc right through the transepts almost to the ceiling. It really is spectacular, belching smoke and flames and reaching a frightening speed at the bottom of the swing just above the floor. That was before the service, but the service itself was a dignified, solemn, worshipful communion service, and of course we went forward to receive , but that meant we lost our seats and had to stand for the rest of the service. And afterwards the festivities continued with a great fair in the park, and throughout the narrow streets there were groups of people singing, musicians playing and bands, some of them playing and running at the same time. There was a terrific buzz. The pilgrims had reached their goal and were now rejoicing and relaxing.
There’s something basic about the idea of pilgrimage. It involves Muslims and Jews as well as Christians and members of other faiths too. Almost since the beginning of human life, since the first awareness of the divine, men and women have been making journeys for God - to pay homage to him, to thank him, to mark a change in their life, to ask for forgiveness, to underline a prayer or simply to find his presence and experience his holiness. But of course you don’t have to travel to do any of these things. And even if we were inclined to, most of us couldn’t afford the time or the money to make a major pilgrimage, or indeed put to one side family or work commitments. And of course we don’t have to, for we can consider, profitably consider all life to be a pilgrimage for God. All life: not just the church bits or the prayer bits, but all the everyday, ordinary bits as well.
It’s no new idea: think of John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, and at the end of this service we’ll be singing his hymn To be a Pilgrim. Incidentally, I remember many years ago in a small church saying in a sermon that I’d read that Pilgrim’s Progress was the second most-possessed book after the Bible. And a man in the congregation, who was in fact a director of W H Smith called out: No, it’s the Guinness Book of Records. Ah, well. Probably if you take all of history into account and all religions, the record number of significant journeys that have ever been made have not been for holidays or even for commerce but for pilgrimage.
It’s a positive thing. You know, I’m perfectly happy to go to communion in those churches where the bread and wine are brought round to you in your seats, but I prefer it when we hear: Draw near with faith - come forward; make that journey to God. He invites us; we respond, and, however small it is, we make a positive step towards him, towards the holy, holy communion with him. Pilgrimage has a purpose, and a direction, and a destination. It’s so very different from drifting or wandering aimlessly about. Many a pilgrim has, I’m sure, fallen by the wayside, been tempted and allured from the path, or simply got lost. By struggle and effort and determination, some have managed to regain the right road. Sadly, not all, but most do get there in the end.
Well, which way are we headed? And how far have we got? Perhaps it would be a good idea to sit down with a piece of paper and try to write down: What is my purpose in life? Where am I going? Am I on target? Questions like that. We could do it on a birthday, or new year’s day, or today. It’s so very easy, and especially in a busy life, to just let one day follow another - not exactly drifting, but not making any positive, purposeful progression.
No doubt with Bunyan in mind, Cardinal Basil Hume wrote a book called To Be A Pilgrim. Listen to how he begins: (page 13)
“There were many travellers in Judea and Galilee on that first Christmas night, for a census of the people had to be made. Places to lodge were scarce. Some, the poor ones, had no more than a cave or a stable in which to shelter and rest from the fatigue of their long journey. Others were still on the road, they were men in a search. Three men, pilgrims these, were in search of a king - one, they said, who would be born at this time and to whom they would be led by a star. Where that star would lead them and exactly what they would find, they were none too certain. They asked questions and sought guidance. The light from the stars in the heavens would be their guide, and they sought too that inner light which is what wise men will always seek. The pilgrim through life’s journey needs light for guidance along the road that leads to our true and final home. That pilgrim is you, and that pilgrim is me, often confused and often wounded.”
Do you remember those words from the Psalms: Thy word is a lantern unto my feet, and a light unto my path. On life’s pilgrimage we all need light for guidance, and the best light is that which shines from God’s word, not necessarily individual bits from his word, but the whole general illumination stemming from the Bible. Thy word is a lantern unto my feet, and a light unto my path. Using a different but current metaphor, the Bible can be our road map.
And as well as direction, we have company. There are of course individual pilgrimages, but most are shared. Even if someone sets off by themselves, most probably they’ll meet up with others along the way. And most of us would prefer to be with companions, like-minded, sympathetic people, with the same aims, and the same temptations, the same failings, the same - thinking of Basil Hume’s words - the same confusions and similar wounds, but also of course some shared joys too. Sounds like a church, a church family, a church family pilgrimage.
Do we recognize, at Aston and Colwall, that we are fellow pilgrims? Do we really give to the other members of our church family all the support and encouragement we can? We can have fun together too. We can have a pig-roast, and like Chaucer’s pilgrims we can entertain each other with good and maybe even rather risqué stories. But we’re on the road together. On the way, and Jesus said: I am the way.
That’s one of the most significant shafts of light shining from the Bible, a central theme of the New Testament. It’s not just a matter of us coming to God: God comes to us. That’s what the story of Jesus is all about, from his birth in Bethlehem to his coming to us in this and every holy communion service. But he doesn’t force himself upon us; he doesn’t barge in. He graciously invites us to join him. Draw near with faith. He is the destination, but he walks with us on the road, to bring us to the end of our journey and to welcome us home.
At Aston and at Colwall we have a patron saint who has become a symbol of pilgrimage, May each of us, as individuals, but supporting each other in our church family, may each of us make a conscious, positive, daily step forward on the way of the Lord.
There’s a short prayer for the beginning of each day that I came across exactly fifty years ago: Another day of wonder you give me, Lord, in which to live, to love, to do well and to be glad. You don’t have to remember it; it’s there on the Pewsheet, a prayer for our daily pilgrimage. Another day of wonder you give me, Lord, in which to live, to love, to do well and to be glad. Let us make it our first avowed intent to be a pilgrim.