Having coped very well, physically, with the rigours of the pilgrimage, with a mere few blisters to show for it, I awoke on Tuesday morning feeling very rough, after a somewhat disturbed night. I am still not quite sure why; I suspect I had dehydrated a bit, and seen a bit too much of the sun on the previous afternoon, during the Mass. It had not been bright or hot, so I had not covered my head or ensured I drank lots of water. And then it may have been the addition of having a (small) beer before dinner and two (small) glasses of wine with dinner. Whatever the cause, I felt pretty dreadful and had an upset stomach to boot. What was worse was that I had also wrecked my voice by over-singing in the final miles. The reason that mattered was that I was meant to be teaching and leading the chant for our final High Mass in the crypt of Chartres Cathedral.
Fortunately James Belt and Brother Rosario were quick to learn the double Alleluia, and we all already knew the sequence. We started to learn the Introit (I have a keyboard app on my phone, which was helpful, as I couldn't sing a note to guide them) but ran out of time. For the Mass we were joined by Jamie Bogle, and between us we made a reasonable go of it (though we managed to start the Gloria at the wrong time and had to stop and wait for the Mass to catch up with us - still not quite sure how that happened).
The Mass was sung by Fr Ian Verrier, with Fr Mark Withoos as Deacon, and Fr Gerard Byrne as Sub-Deacon. Fr Withoos preached a powerful sermon on Christ as the Door. A wonderful and fitting end to the pilgrimage.
The crypt at Chartres has some claim to be the oldest Christian shrine, as it is a pre-Christian one! Apparently the Druids had had a revelation and had inscribed an altar with the words virgini pariturae: the virgin who will conceive.... This is one of the wonders of Chartres, and we were very blessed to have a Mass there. (Amongst the other great treasures of the Cathedral are Our Lady's veil and the statue of the Black Madonna, both of which we had time to visit. ) We concluded the Mass, of course, with the Regina Caeli and the great French Marian Hymn, Chez Nous.
After Mass, we were privileged to receive First Blessings from Fr Ian Verrier, one of our chaplains, who was ordained in the FSSP just under a year ago.
Then, it was back on the coach, and back to London, via a train that runs under the sea (What will they think of next?). I have to confess that I slept for a lot of the journey, after my rather restless night; but that did mean I was able to bowl up at my London friends' house in a fit state to be a reasonable guest for the night...
And so ended my eighth (I think) Chartres pilgrimage.
The true highlights, of course, I have not, and cannot, describe: my confession; the reception of Our Lord in Holy Communion; some of the reflections arising from the meditations; some of the conversations with fellow pilgrims. For these, gentle reader, you will have to come to Chartres yourself.
Showing posts with label pilgrimage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pilgrimage. Show all posts
Friday, 20 May 2016
Thursday, 19 May 2016
Chartres 2016 (3)
I realise that I left out a couple of important moments on Pentecost. After the Mass we marched on, of course, and eventually ascended a hill, covered in barley fields and some light woodland, until, as we rounded a corner, we got our first glimpse on the horizon of the twin, but asymetric, spires of Chartres Cathedral. That is always a moment of special joy, and we always greet it with the Regina Caeli.
And it was not long after that I noticed what the increasingly boisterous chapter of French girl guides were singing: an old French marching song that I had first heard on the train back to Paris last year. The chorus runs as follows:
This was sung with such gusto that I was pretty sure that it was being sung in our direction. But this year we ignored it, and pressed on for the campsite at Gas.
On Monday morning we always get a lie-in. It was 5.30 before they woke us up... It was also slightly less cold than it had been the previous morning: no ice on the tents, though still pretty fresh. And the same routine: breakfast, tents packed, luggage onto the lorry... No! Jerk awake. Luggage goes onto our coach, for those staying in the hotel in Chartres. Those unfortunates who forget this have to trek down to the yard the other side of the station, and lug their luggage back up the hill to the hotel at the end of the day.
And then we march. But the end is in site, and today's march is a mere seventeen and a half miles: hardly worth putting your boots on...
By the lunch stop we are getting positively light-headed, as we realise how close we are to Chartres. And then we are singing one last rosary as we enter the city and wend our way through the outskirts. As we ascend the hill we always sing a quick Requiem aeternam at the war memorial, before launching into some serious singing of Jubilate Deo as a canon, which will take us right up to the Cathedral, until we are drowned out by its tolling bells.
This year, as the Cathedral is still full of scaffolding, as they work on the magnificent restoration project, fewer chapters than usual could fit inside. As we were well down the order of march, we were right at the back of the square outside, so could barely even see the screen. However, we got a fantastic view of the procession entering and leaving, including seeing St Joan of Arc's ring proudly carried by, which has only recently returned to France, after being bought at an auction from its previous English owner.
And then scores of clergy, many very young, and of course the banners of all the chapters; and then a couple of bishops... And then the High Mass, the culmination of the pilgrimage. And once again, with all the nationalities filling the square, the eminent good sense, and simple Catholicity of having Latin as a common language was apparent.
After Mass, we gathered for the traditional photo, having already said goodbye, unfortunately, to those who had to rush off for trains in order to get back to England that night.
Then it was back to our hotel for a celebratory dinner and a glass or two of wine, before retiring to bed - bed, I tell you! For the first time since Friday night!
And just before retiring, I looked at the data captured on my iPhone:
And it was not long after that I noticed what the increasingly boisterous chapter of French girl guides were singing: an old French marching song that I had first heard on the train back to Paris last year. The chorus runs as follows:
Buvons un coup, buvons en deux
A la santé des amoureux
A la santé du roi de France
Et merde pour le roi d'Angleterre
Qui nous a déclaré la guerre!
This was sung with such gusto that I was pretty sure that it was being sung in our direction. But this year we ignored it, and pressed on for the campsite at Gas.
On Monday morning we always get a lie-in. It was 5.30 before they woke us up... It was also slightly less cold than it had been the previous morning: no ice on the tents, though still pretty fresh. And the same routine: breakfast, tents packed, luggage onto the lorry... No! Jerk awake. Luggage goes onto our coach, for those staying in the hotel in Chartres. Those unfortunates who forget this have to trek down to the yard the other side of the station, and lug their luggage back up the hill to the hotel at the end of the day.
And then we march. But the end is in site, and today's march is a mere seventeen and a half miles: hardly worth putting your boots on...
By the lunch stop we are getting positively light-headed, as we realise how close we are to Chartres. And then we are singing one last rosary as we enter the city and wend our way through the outskirts. As we ascend the hill we always sing a quick Requiem aeternam at the war memorial, before launching into some serious singing of Jubilate Deo as a canon, which will take us right up to the Cathedral, until we are drowned out by its tolling bells.
This year, as the Cathedral is still full of scaffolding, as they work on the magnificent restoration project, fewer chapters than usual could fit inside. As we were well down the order of march, we were right at the back of the square outside, so could barely even see the screen. However, we got a fantastic view of the procession entering and leaving, including seeing St Joan of Arc's ring proudly carried by, which has only recently returned to France, after being bought at an auction from its previous English owner.
And then scores of clergy, many very young, and of course the banners of all the chapters; and then a couple of bishops... And then the High Mass, the culmination of the pilgrimage. And once again, with all the nationalities filling the square, the eminent good sense, and simple Catholicity of having Latin as a common language was apparent.
After Mass, we gathered for the traditional photo, having already said goodbye, unfortunately, to those who had to rush off for trains in order to get back to England that night.
Then it was back to our hotel for a celebratory dinner and a glass or two of wine, before retiring to bed - bed, I tell you! For the first time since Friday night!
And just before retiring, I looked at the data captured on my iPhone:
Chartres 2016 (2)
It is often cold over night, camping on the pilgrimage, and given that the day had been relatively mild, I put on extra layers before crawling into my sleeping bag. Nonetheless, I awoke in the small hours feeling very cold, and struggled to get back to sleep. For once, I was grateful when it was time to get up (at 5.00) and that cheery French voice that we know and love of old resounded throughout the campsite via the formidable PA System: ‘Bonjour, chèrs amis pèlerins, il est cinq heures, et il est l'heure de se réveiller.' Within minutes, he is chivvying us further. “Chèrs pèlerins, il est l'heure de sortir de vos tentes pour les démonter.’ And only seconds after that: “Je vois qu’il y a toujours des tentes qui ne sont pas démontées!' And all too quickly: "Les premiers chapitres départent en quelques minutes!"
Despite having been so cold, we were surprised to find that there had been such a heavy frost that some of our tents had ice on them! Packing wet tents with frozen fingers is not a lot of fun, but it did make us appreciate the hot coffee (or hot chocolate à choix) provided for breakfast, along with the ubiquitous bread rolls.
We were some way down the marching order, so had plenty of time to get our luggage to the legendary camion sac (étranger), before raising our flags, gathering the chapter together and starting out again.
We started the day, as usual, with a morning offering, and then, it being Pentecost, sang the Veni Creator Spiritus. And then on with the same routine: marching, rosaries, meditations, songs sacred and secular, chat...
Perhaps it is worth reflecting a little on the role of the Chef de Chapitre. Nobody has ever given me a job description, but Julie Carey, (who along with her husband Francis organises the whole thing every year) let slip that they had identified me as a future Chef on hearing me sing Green Grow the Rushes-oh with great vim one year... So I conclude that one aspect of the role is to keep the chapter singing, at least intermittently. And it is certainly important: clearly singing fifteen decades of the rosary every day is at the heart of the spirituality of the pilgrimage; but also the hymns and songs are very helpful in keeping weary feet marching.
At the end of the first day, there is a long and steep hill: when one has been marching for nine hours or more, and covered some 23 miles, it is easy to find the heart sinking a little at the sight, and for limbs to feel heavy, and the whole thing to slow down. But we sang our way up the hill with gusto, and although it was long and steep (and of course, singing requires more oxygen) that really does help.
So motivating the chapter to keep going is a key role. Not least because we are, of course, required to march to someone else's pace. That is one of the things that is not immediately obvious, but actually makes it tough. There are times when the pilgrimage proceeds very slowly, with lots of stops and starts, when we have to cross roads etc. And then there are times when we are walking at a fast pace, normally to make up time when we are behind schedule. Our job is to maintain a constant distance between ourselves and the chapter in front: close enough to stay in touch, but not so close we are breathing down their necks.
That gap also allows the priests to walk between the chapters and hear confessions. But of course it gets more difficult when people in the preceding chapter start to straggle behind. We maintain the distance, they drop further and further behind their chapter, and suddenly their is too large a gap: we have to overtake them and catch up. And so on.
Allied to that is the maintenance of a modicum of discipline: keeping the group together, and not allowing our chapter to spread out too far, to the inconvenience of following chapters.
Then there is the aspect of looking after people as they walk: particularly keeping an eye out for anyone struggling; but also for anyone who is alone, especially new pilgrims, and trying to make sure that they are integrated into the group.
And then there is balancing the activities as we walk: trying to have the right amount of praying, meditating, singing, chatting and so on, so that people feel that they are busy with purposeful spiritual activity, but also have sufficient unstructured time for chat, or private prayer and reflection.
As always with me, I am very much better at the theory than the practice of this art...
The highlight of this second day, of course, is the big Pentecost Mass, celebrated in the open air on a magnificently constructed altar. We were a long way back from the altar, but there was also a large screen and a good PA system, so that we could see and hear everything. Also, one of our pilgrims, Mordi, kindly does a simultaneous translation of the sermon for us, so that we can follow that (the rest of the Mass is in Latin, of course, so following it is easy).
The Consecration is always an important moment, of course; and at this Mass is marked by the banners to the sides of the altars bowing, as well as the bells ringing; for some reason I always find that a moving spectacle.
Distribution of communion to so large a gathering (I think between 8,000 - 10,000 this year) could be problematic; but not so. Large numbers of priests, each accompanied by a server carrying an communion plate, and another carrying a large umbrella as an ombrellino, distribute communion to the pilgrims, who kneel in the dust and receive reverently on the tongue. It can be done, where there's a will...
And after Mass, we had a lunch break, and then three more marches to the campsite; on this second day we had covered 27 miles, but again the mild weather had made it very much less arduous than in some previous years. We arrived singing loudly, as before, and then collected luggage, pitched tents and had some soup for supper.
The campsite is in an old quarry at Gas. Here there is another altar, and adoration continues throughout the night (indeed I was awoken at 4.00 am by the Tantum Ergo, followed by the Divine Praises in French...). But for myself, I just made a quick visit to the Blessed Sacrament before retiring for the night: I find that sleep is very important (if possible) if I am to maintain that cheerful demeanour and high energy level that seems a requirement of the Chef de Chapitre role. It was another cold night, but not quite as cold as the previous one; and until the early morning Benediction, I slept well.
Despite having been so cold, we were surprised to find that there had been such a heavy frost that some of our tents had ice on them! Packing wet tents with frozen fingers is not a lot of fun, but it did make us appreciate the hot coffee (or hot chocolate à choix) provided for breakfast, along with the ubiquitous bread rolls.
We were some way down the marching order, so had plenty of time to get our luggage to the legendary camion sac (étranger), before raising our flags, gathering the chapter together and starting out again.
We started the day, as usual, with a morning offering, and then, it being Pentecost, sang the Veni Creator Spiritus. And then on with the same routine: marching, rosaries, meditations, songs sacred and secular, chat...
Perhaps it is worth reflecting a little on the role of the Chef de Chapitre. Nobody has ever given me a job description, but Julie Carey, (who along with her husband Francis organises the whole thing every year) let slip that they had identified me as a future Chef on hearing me sing Green Grow the Rushes-oh with great vim one year... So I conclude that one aspect of the role is to keep the chapter singing, at least intermittently. And it is certainly important: clearly singing fifteen decades of the rosary every day is at the heart of the spirituality of the pilgrimage; but also the hymns and songs are very helpful in keeping weary feet marching.
At the end of the first day, there is a long and steep hill: when one has been marching for nine hours or more, and covered some 23 miles, it is easy to find the heart sinking a little at the sight, and for limbs to feel heavy, and the whole thing to slow down. But we sang our way up the hill with gusto, and although it was long and steep (and of course, singing requires more oxygen) that really does help.
So motivating the chapter to keep going is a key role. Not least because we are, of course, required to march to someone else's pace. That is one of the things that is not immediately obvious, but actually makes it tough. There are times when the pilgrimage proceeds very slowly, with lots of stops and starts, when we have to cross roads etc. And then there are times when we are walking at a fast pace, normally to make up time when we are behind schedule. Our job is to maintain a constant distance between ourselves and the chapter in front: close enough to stay in touch, but not so close we are breathing down their necks.
That gap also allows the priests to walk between the chapters and hear confessions. But of course it gets more difficult when people in the preceding chapter start to straggle behind. We maintain the distance, they drop further and further behind their chapter, and suddenly their is too large a gap: we have to overtake them and catch up. And so on.
Allied to that is the maintenance of a modicum of discipline: keeping the group together, and not allowing our chapter to spread out too far, to the inconvenience of following chapters.
Then there is the aspect of looking after people as they walk: particularly keeping an eye out for anyone struggling; but also for anyone who is alone, especially new pilgrims, and trying to make sure that they are integrated into the group.
And then there is balancing the activities as we walk: trying to have the right amount of praying, meditating, singing, chatting and so on, so that people feel that they are busy with purposeful spiritual activity, but also have sufficient unstructured time for chat, or private prayer and reflection.
As always with me, I am very much better at the theory than the practice of this art...
The highlight of this second day, of course, is the big Pentecost Mass, celebrated in the open air on a magnificently constructed altar. We were a long way back from the altar, but there was also a large screen and a good PA system, so that we could see and hear everything. Also, one of our pilgrims, Mordi, kindly does a simultaneous translation of the sermon for us, so that we can follow that (the rest of the Mass is in Latin, of course, so following it is easy).
The Consecration is always an important moment, of course; and at this Mass is marked by the banners to the sides of the altars bowing, as well as the bells ringing; for some reason I always find that a moving spectacle.
Distribution of communion to so large a gathering (I think between 8,000 - 10,000 this year) could be problematic; but not so. Large numbers of priests, each accompanied by a server carrying an communion plate, and another carrying a large umbrella as an ombrellino, distribute communion to the pilgrims, who kneel in the dust and receive reverently on the tongue. It can be done, where there's a will...
And after Mass, we had a lunch break, and then three more marches to the campsite; on this second day we had covered 27 miles, but again the mild weather had made it very much less arduous than in some previous years. We arrived singing loudly, as before, and then collected luggage, pitched tents and had some soup for supper.
The campsite is in an old quarry at Gas. Here there is another altar, and adoration continues throughout the night (indeed I was awoken at 4.00 am by the Tantum Ergo, followed by the Divine Praises in French...). But for myself, I just made a quick visit to the Blessed Sacrament before retiring for the night: I find that sleep is very important (if possible) if I am to maintain that cheerful demeanour and high energy level that seems a requirement of the Chef de Chapitre role. It was another cold night, but not quite as cold as the previous one; and until the early morning Benediction, I slept well.
Wednesday, 18 May 2016
Chartres 2016 (1)
So, another year, another pilgrimage to Chartres...
I have written about this so many times in previous years, that it is hard to know what to say without repeating myself endlessly (see the tag Chartres for previous accounts).
One difference this year was that I went alone; none of the children were free to come with me, for various reasons. So I travelled down to London alone the night before, and arrived very late, due to an incident on the line, and stopped at a B&B in Victoria.
We start the pilgrimage with Mass at 7.00 am in the Cathedral Crypt, which was surprisingly empty at 7.00 am. I wondered if I had got it wrong, but Fr George Roth was there to say the Mass - it was only the congregation who were lacking. They all piled in a minute or two later as Mass was starting: I never did find out why.
The Mass, of course, was in the traditional Roman Rite (the Extraordinary Form, as we now call it), and was very prayerful. The other priests on the pilgrimage also said their Masses at the same time in other chapels in the crypt. (This was the only photo I took on the whole trip. Those wanting pictures should look at the LMS Facebook page, or the official pilgrimage site.)
Then we all got on the coach, and it was off to Dover to catch the ferry. Avid readers will remember that a couple of years ago, my eldest daughter had left her passport behind. This year, it was one of the Readings who could not find his passport, so cancelled - he clearly hadn't heard how we had smuggled Ant over the border... Rumour has it that Fr Roth did not have his passport with him, either, but we pass lightly over that.
The ferry crossing was pleasant enough, with fish and chips for lunch (it being Friday) and we got to our hotel outside Paris without further ado, with a few hymns and a rosary or two. There we went to an Italian restaurant just around the corner (why, I don't know: go to Paris and eat pizzas....) but it was pleasant enough, and the company convivial.
The next morning we started the tougher part of the pilgrimage: up at the time my children normally go to bed, so as to have breakfast at 5.00, get on the coach by 5.30 and get to Notre Dame for 6.00 am. There we met the indefatigable and inimitable Fr Mark Withoos, the chaplain of our chapter, who had flown in from Rome (he is Cardinal Pell's private secretary, and had been granted an exeat on condition that he didn't wreck himself as he did last time he came...)
Then we had High Mass in the Cathedral, which is always a wonderful and moving celebration, and finally set off on the long march out of Paris; onto the rive gauche, past the Luxembourg gardens, and out through the suburbs. This first march is one of the longest, and often one of the toughest: two and a half hours of city walking, until we get to the park in the suburb of Plessis-Robinson, some 6 1/2 miles from Notre Dame. The apples we are always treated to at this park are provided by the local municipality as a gesture of welcome. The official website for the pilgrimage carries a wonderful sentence in English (almost) on this subject:
The English were marching in two chapters, one under the banner of Our Lady of Walsingham (until the banner pole snapped) and the other, the youth chapter of which I am titular Chef de Chapitre, under the patronage (but not banner, as it too had broken) of St Alban.
This year the weather was very kind to us; pleasantly mild, which was perfect walking weather. The rest of the day followed the same pattern: march for ages, rest for minutes, march for more ages... until we got to the campsite at Choisel, somewhere around 8 o'clock. By this time we have been up for about 16 hours, and marching for 10 of them, covering a fraction less than 25 miles. So we always make a point of singing lustily as we arrive, to show that we Brits are nothing daunted by such a trivial stroll. This year was no exception, and we made a decent noise as we arrived.
Then bags were retrieved (they travel by lorry, mercifully), tents pitched, soup and rolls eaten, and the sensible ones among us retired for the night as soon as possible, putting in our earplugs, against the carousing of the French Scouts...
I have written about this so many times in previous years, that it is hard to know what to say without repeating myself endlessly (see the tag Chartres for previous accounts).
One difference this year was that I went alone; none of the children were free to come with me, for various reasons. So I travelled down to London alone the night before, and arrived very late, due to an incident on the line, and stopped at a B&B in Victoria.
We start the pilgrimage with Mass at 7.00 am in the Cathedral Crypt, which was surprisingly empty at 7.00 am. I wondered if I had got it wrong, but Fr George Roth was there to say the Mass - it was only the congregation who were lacking. They all piled in a minute or two later as Mass was starting: I never did find out why.The Mass, of course, was in the traditional Roman Rite (the Extraordinary Form, as we now call it), and was very prayerful. The other priests on the pilgrimage also said their Masses at the same time in other chapels in the crypt. (This was the only photo I took on the whole trip. Those wanting pictures should look at the LMS Facebook page, or the official pilgrimage site.)
Then we all got on the coach, and it was off to Dover to catch the ferry. Avid readers will remember that a couple of years ago, my eldest daughter had left her passport behind. This year, it was one of the Readings who could not find his passport, so cancelled - he clearly hadn't heard how we had smuggled Ant over the border... Rumour has it that Fr Roth did not have his passport with him, either, but we pass lightly over that.
The ferry crossing was pleasant enough, with fish and chips for lunch (it being Friday) and we got to our hotel outside Paris without further ado, with a few hymns and a rosary or two. There we went to an Italian restaurant just around the corner (why, I don't know: go to Paris and eat pizzas....) but it was pleasant enough, and the company convivial.
The next morning we started the tougher part of the pilgrimage: up at the time my children normally go to bed, so as to have breakfast at 5.00, get on the coach by 5.30 and get to Notre Dame for 6.00 am. There we met the indefatigable and inimitable Fr Mark Withoos, the chaplain of our chapter, who had flown in from Rome (he is Cardinal Pell's private secretary, and had been granted an exeat on condition that he didn't wreck himself as he did last time he came...)
Then we had High Mass in the Cathedral, which is always a wonderful and moving celebration, and finally set off on the long march out of Paris; onto the rive gauche, past the Luxembourg gardens, and out through the suburbs. This first march is one of the longest, and often one of the toughest: two and a half hours of city walking, until we get to the park in the suburb of Plessis-Robinson, some 6 1/2 miles from Notre Dame. The apples we are always treated to at this park are provided by the local municipality as a gesture of welcome. The official website for the pilgrimage carries a wonderful sentence in English (almost) on this subject:
An apple a day keep the pelgrin alive !During the marches, we sang hymns (Faith of our Fathers, to start with, and then a variety of others) said prayers (starting, as each day, with a morning offering) and sang the rosary (in decades variously in Latin, French and English). We also have a meditation, normally read by one of the priests marching with us (as well as Fr Withoos, we were looked after by Fr Roth and Fr Verier, who was ordained almost a year ago into the FSSP). We also have plenty of time to chat amongst ourselves, and this Catholic conviviality is an important part of the pilgrimage. Indeed, a few marriages have resulted, over the years...
The English were marching in two chapters, one under the banner of Our Lady of Walsingham (until the banner pole snapped) and the other, the youth chapter of which I am titular Chef de Chapitre, under the patronage (but not banner, as it too had broken) of St Alban.
This year the weather was very kind to us; pleasantly mild, which was perfect walking weather. The rest of the day followed the same pattern: march for ages, rest for minutes, march for more ages... until we got to the campsite at Choisel, somewhere around 8 o'clock. By this time we have been up for about 16 hours, and marching for 10 of them, covering a fraction less than 25 miles. So we always make a point of singing lustily as we arrive, to show that we Brits are nothing daunted by such a trivial stroll. This year was no exception, and we made a decent noise as we arrived.
Tuesday, 4 August 2015
YCA National Weekend at Aylesford
I have been asked to publicise this, and am happy to do so.
YCA National Weekend at Aylesford -in Association with the Scola Gregoriana of Cambridge
2015 Theme: “One day, through the Rosary and the Scapular, Our Lady will save the world.”Attributed to Saint Dominic.
Set in the heart of Kent, England, The Friars - Aylesford Priory - is an ancient religious house of the Order of Carmelites dating back to the 13th Century. Over the centuries and now today The Friars has become the destination for thousands of visitors. Fr. Gregory Pearson and noted author Donel Foley will be giving talks.
At the 2015 Young Catholic Adult Weekend, there will be:
- Sung/High Masses (EF),
- Gregorian Chant Workshops,
- Talks,
- Rosaries,
- Confessions,
- Marian Procession,
- Socials.
To book on to the weekend please go to the automated booking system here.
Please note Aylesford Priory have a booking deadline of 18th September, otherwise they reserve the right to release rooms for sale to other guests as required. Also they do not allow last minute refunds so any non-arrivals and/or cancellations made up to 3 days before the event will be non-refundable.
Thursday, 12 June 2014
More pained thoughts on the Chartres Pilgrimage...
One of the many odd things about the pilgrimage is how the discomfort moves around. On the first day, my left hip was sore, and got gradually worse during the day, and over night.
The next morning, I was slightly worried that if it continued to get worse, I might struggle to walk the whole pilgrimage.
And at the first break, I suddenly noticed that it was no longer hurting.
By then, of course, something else was: I forget what, it may have been my right knee or my shins, or...
But that was very much the pattern. And the way to cope with these passing discomforts was largely to ignore them. (I am not saying that I didn't put blister plasters on my feet as the occasion arose: when something needs attention, it needs attention - but worrying about it really doesn't help). So singing the rosary, really attending to the meditations, engaging in cheery chat with other weary pilgrims, singing the secular songs and rounds that keep us marching... any of these was vastly preferable to thinking about how sore a hip, knee or shin was.
The poorest strategy was to slow a little, drop behind the chapter, and then struggle along with no company but one's own misery - and still having to march the same distance at the same pace, but getting to the rest break a little later, and therefore having a shorter rest, and thinking all the while about how much one's hip, knee, or shin is hurting.
Yet that is very tempting, nonetheless.
There's a metaphor there, somewhere, too...
The next morning, I was slightly worried that if it continued to get worse, I might struggle to walk the whole pilgrimage.
And at the first break, I suddenly noticed that it was no longer hurting.
By then, of course, something else was: I forget what, it may have been my right knee or my shins, or...
But that was very much the pattern. And the way to cope with these passing discomforts was largely to ignore them. (I am not saying that I didn't put blister plasters on my feet as the occasion arose: when something needs attention, it needs attention - but worrying about it really doesn't help). So singing the rosary, really attending to the meditations, engaging in cheery chat with other weary pilgrims, singing the secular songs and rounds that keep us marching... any of these was vastly preferable to thinking about how sore a hip, knee or shin was.
The poorest strategy was to slow a little, drop behind the chapter, and then struggle along with no company but one's own misery - and still having to march the same distance at the same pace, but getting to the rest break a little later, and therefore having a shorter rest, and thinking all the while about how much one's hip, knee, or shin is hurting.
Yet that is very tempting, nonetheless.
There's a metaphor there, somewhere, too...
Another painful reflection on Chartres...
One of the features of the Chartres pilgrimage is the physical discomfort. The days are long, and the miles longer; the heat and the rain both increase the discomfort in their different ways. People get tired and raw. Camping in a huge site doesn't guarantee a good night's sleep, and as for the portaloos...
It is easy to fantasise how much better the pilgrimage would be if one's feet were not tired and blistered, if the sun did not blaze so, nor the downpours descend, if people didn't barge in front of you in the queue for what the French pretend to be soup, and if only that chap in the next tent didn't snore so loudly, and one had private facilities.
But of course, it wouldn't be.
If one got to the end and it really did feel like a stroll in the park, one would feel cheated.
There is, of course, a long tradition of mortification as part of the spiritual life, and the most obvious reasons are solidarity with Our Lord's suffering, and penance for sins.
But I think there is something else, too. Physical discomfort has some very immediate effects. It is a great leveller, stripping away pride and pretension very effectively; it also keeps us very grounded in the here and now; and it does get you to realise your reliance on grace to take the next step, and the next. It makes thinking simpler, contrition more acute, and resolutions less pretentious and more focused (and indeed memorable).
And the most curious thing is, that it is partly the feeling of having endured that makes one think, even when tired and raw at the end of the pilgrimage, that one must definitely come back next year.
It is easy to fantasise how much better the pilgrimage would be if one's feet were not tired and blistered, if the sun did not blaze so, nor the downpours descend, if people didn't barge in front of you in the queue for what the French pretend to be soup, and if only that chap in the next tent didn't snore so loudly, and one had private facilities.
But of course, it wouldn't be.
If one got to the end and it really did feel like a stroll in the park, one would feel cheated.
There is, of course, a long tradition of mortification as part of the spiritual life, and the most obvious reasons are solidarity with Our Lord's suffering, and penance for sins.
But I think there is something else, too. Physical discomfort has some very immediate effects. It is a great leveller, stripping away pride and pretension very effectively; it also keeps us very grounded in the here and now; and it does get you to realise your reliance on grace to take the next step, and the next. It makes thinking simpler, contrition more acute, and resolutions less pretentious and more focused (and indeed memorable).
And the most curious thing is, that it is partly the feeling of having endured that makes one think, even when tired and raw at the end of the pilgrimage, that one must definitely come back next year.
More reflections arising from Chartres...
As my blisters heal, and my tiredness recedes, more reflections are coming to the surface, which I thought I should record, mainly related to blisters.
One was the wonderful reflection (I think by Fr Byrne) after a meditation on St Francis. One of the themes of the pilgrimage was Creation for the adoration of God. St Francis is naturally a prime exemplar of that philosophy, and Fr Byrne (if it was he - memory is necessarily somewhat hazy) pointed out that we should therefore welcome as friends 'Brother Mud and Sister Blister.'
(Perhaps you had to be there....)
But I also reflect on the body's capacity to heal itself - or not. Many of us got blisters, and our feet will heal themselves of their own accord - as long as we do nothing foolish and follow the advice we are given. However, others had more serious problems and needed medical attention. Without it, they could make their various problems very much worse.
All of which prompted me to reflect on sin: some sins (venial) we will recover from as long as we are repentant, make an act of contrition, and indeed receive Holy Communion with the right dispositions. But for more serious harm to our soul (mortal sins) we need more serious intervention: that is sacramental Confession. If we ignore that we risk doing more damage to ourselves...
Of course, one of the glories of the pilgrimage is the availability of chaplains to hear confessions as we walk: there is always a gap between the chapters, in which the chaplains often walk, and penitents can join them to have their confessions heard. I think the vast majority of our chapter went to confession over the three days, and some more than once.
Doubtless, as my mind catches up with me, further reflections will follow.
One was the wonderful reflection (I think by Fr Byrne) after a meditation on St Francis. One of the themes of the pilgrimage was Creation for the adoration of God. St Francis is naturally a prime exemplar of that philosophy, and Fr Byrne (if it was he - memory is necessarily somewhat hazy) pointed out that we should therefore welcome as friends 'Brother Mud and Sister Blister.'
(Perhaps you had to be there....)
But I also reflect on the body's capacity to heal itself - or not. Many of us got blisters, and our feet will heal themselves of their own accord - as long as we do nothing foolish and follow the advice we are given. However, others had more serious problems and needed medical attention. Without it, they could make their various problems very much worse.
All of which prompted me to reflect on sin: some sins (venial) we will recover from as long as we are repentant, make an act of contrition, and indeed receive Holy Communion with the right dispositions. But for more serious harm to our soul (mortal sins) we need more serious intervention: that is sacramental Confession. If we ignore that we risk doing more damage to ourselves...
Of course, one of the glories of the pilgrimage is the availability of chaplains to hear confessions as we walk: there is always a gap between the chapters, in which the chaplains often walk, and penitents can join them to have their confessions heard. I think the vast majority of our chapter went to confession over the three days, and some more than once.
Doubtless, as my mind catches up with me, further reflections will follow.
Wednesday, 11 June 2014
Back from Chartres
We got home earlier today from the magnificent pilgrimage from Notre Dame de Paris to Notre Dame de Chartres.
I blogged about this extensively last time I went (see here and following posts), so I will not repeat myself.
However there are a few new things I want to comment on, this year. One is the powerful effect of singing our prayer. I knew this theoretically, of course: to sing is to pray twice and all of that...
But in a very practical way, I learned it afresh. We sang the rosary every day: 20 decades on the Vigil of Pentecost, and Pentecost itself, and 15 decades on Monday (as we were marching for much less of the day). And I noticed that when I awoke in the night, and first thing in the morning, I was mentally singing the Ave Maria, consistently. How much better to fill one's head with that rather than the latest pop ditties or advertising jingles...
The people were wonderful this year. Frs Martin Edwards and Gerard Byrne were chaplains to the Chapter of Our Lady of Walsingham, and Frs Mark Withoos and Alex Redman were chaplains to the Juventutem (youth) Chapter, under the patronage of St Alban. Both chapters were full of lovely, interesting and varied characters, including several (all of whose names began with A) who are shortly to be married.
The other distinctive feature of this year's pilgrimage was the weather. It was both very hot, at times, and also very stormy. We had some magnificent lightning displays, with accompanying rolling thunder.
One of the highlights of the pilgrimage was as we started, at last, to climb the hill in Chartres towards the Cathedral, and the heavens opened, and the storm was on top of us. Nothing daunted, we started to sing the round Jubilate Deo, and competed with the thunder. We kept it up for the half hour or so it took to climb the hill and reach the Cathedral, with everyone singing out loudly and making a tremendous sound.
And when we reached the square outside the Cathedral, where we were to attend the Mass, as the Cathedral itself was already full with the 5000 who had preceded us, the rain stopped, the sun came out, and we dried out. We also had a fabulous view of the Mass, thanks to the large screen erected outside the Cathedral, and were blessed by two bishops as they processed in, and then out at the end of Mass.
UPDATE 1
The only negative part of the whole experience was the mysterious disappearance of Ant's luggage. We put all our bags on the coach at the start of the day on Monday, and when we got to the hotel after the High Mass in Chartres Cathedral, we found all the bags there: except Ant's. Fortunately, after the episode of the passport last time, I had taken charge of all three passports. But all her clothes and various other things (wallet with driving licence and credit cards etc) have disappeared.
However, she took it very well, and in truth it is a small price to pay for a wonderful experience.
UPDATE 2
The other thing I really meant to mention was that we were followed in the pilgrimage by the Chapter from Chavagnes International College, led by the indomitable Fr Bede Rowe. He particularly impressed by his rendition of what I understand to be a happy-clappy sort of Charismatic Alleluia, which he transformed into the most plangent, heart-rending and (let's be quite clear about this) loud Alleluia I think I have ever heard. And he kept it up for ages!
I blogged about this extensively last time I went (see here and following posts), so I will not repeat myself.
However there are a few new things I want to comment on, this year. One is the powerful effect of singing our prayer. I knew this theoretically, of course: to sing is to pray twice and all of that...
But in a very practical way, I learned it afresh. We sang the rosary every day: 20 decades on the Vigil of Pentecost, and Pentecost itself, and 15 decades on Monday (as we were marching for much less of the day). And I noticed that when I awoke in the night, and first thing in the morning, I was mentally singing the Ave Maria, consistently. How much better to fill one's head with that rather than the latest pop ditties or advertising jingles...
The people were wonderful this year. Frs Martin Edwards and Gerard Byrne were chaplains to the Chapter of Our Lady of Walsingham, and Frs Mark Withoos and Alex Redman were chaplains to the Juventutem (youth) Chapter, under the patronage of St Alban. Both chapters were full of lovely, interesting and varied characters, including several (all of whose names began with A) who are shortly to be married.
The other distinctive feature of this year's pilgrimage was the weather. It was both very hot, at times, and also very stormy. We had some magnificent lightning displays, with accompanying rolling thunder.
One of the highlights of the pilgrimage was as we started, at last, to climb the hill in Chartres towards the Cathedral, and the heavens opened, and the storm was on top of us. Nothing daunted, we started to sing the round Jubilate Deo, and competed with the thunder. We kept it up for the half hour or so it took to climb the hill and reach the Cathedral, with everyone singing out loudly and making a tremendous sound.
And when we reached the square outside the Cathedral, where we were to attend the Mass, as the Cathedral itself was already full with the 5000 who had preceded us, the rain stopped, the sun came out, and we dried out. We also had a fabulous view of the Mass, thanks to the large screen erected outside the Cathedral, and were blessed by two bishops as they processed in, and then out at the end of Mass.
UPDATE 1
The only negative part of the whole experience was the mysterious disappearance of Ant's luggage. We put all our bags on the coach at the start of the day on Monday, and when we got to the hotel after the High Mass in Chartres Cathedral, we found all the bags there: except Ant's. Fortunately, after the episode of the passport last time, I had taken charge of all three passports. But all her clothes and various other things (wallet with driving licence and credit cards etc) have disappeared.
However, she took it very well, and in truth it is a small price to pay for a wonderful experience.
UPDATE 2
The other thing I really meant to mention was that we were followed in the pilgrimage by the Chapter from Chavagnes International College, led by the indomitable Fr Bede Rowe. He particularly impressed by his rendition of what I understand to be a happy-clappy sort of Charismatic Alleluia, which he transformed into the most plangent, heart-rending and (let's be quite clear about this) loud Alleluia I think I have ever heard. And he kept it up for ages!
Thursday, 5 June 2014
Off to Chartres
So our bags are packed, and Ant, Dominique and I are soon to head off to London. Tonight we stay with some old friends (one of whom, in fact, was my best man, when I got married 30 years ago). Tomorrow we meet the rest of the pilgrims for Mass in the crypt of Westminster Cathedral (which is where we got married 30 years ago), and then set off for Chartres.
For a full account of the Pilgrimage, see my post here (and the following posts) which detail the 2012 adventure. When I get back, I will probably delete 2012, insert 2014 in red crayon, and re-post them...
Please pray for us all, as we will pray for all our online friends.
And have a very blessed Pentecost.
For a full account of the Pilgrimage, see my post here (and the following posts) which detail the 2012 adventure. When I get back, I will probably delete 2012, insert 2014 in red crayon, and re-post them...
Please pray for us all, as we will pray for all our online friends.
And have a very blessed Pentecost.
Sunday, 23 February 2014
Preparing for Chartres
I have blogged a few times recently about the forthcoming Chartres Pilgrimage, and in particular suggested that people planning to go (especially those going for the first time) should think about getting out walking. It is a serious walk, and so a bit of practice (covering a decent distance) in advance is a good idea.
However, today I want to focus on a different aspect: preparing to sing.
For anyone who has been on the Chartres pilgrimage will agree that the singing is a great part of it. If you know Credo 3, you are off to a good start (and if you don't, that's the first thing you should learn).
Latin, of course, comes into its own on a big international occasion like this, and singing the Credo at Mass is both a sign and source of unity.
However, the majority of those on the pilgrimage are French, and English speakers may find it useful (and enjoyable) to familiarise themselves with some of the most popular French hymns.
The first of these is Chez Nous (it starts at 30"):
However, today I want to focus on a different aspect: preparing to sing.
For anyone who has been on the Chartres pilgrimage will agree that the singing is a great part of it. If you know Credo 3, you are off to a good start (and if you don't, that's the first thing you should learn).
Latin, of course, comes into its own on a big international occasion like this, and singing the Credo at Mass is both a sign and source of unity.
However, the majority of those on the pilgrimage are French, and English speakers may find it useful (and enjoyable) to familiarise themselves with some of the most popular French hymns.
The first of these is Chez Nous (it starts at 30"):
Chez nous soyez Reine, nous sommes à vous
Régnez en souveraine, chez nous, chez nous
Soyez la madone qu'on prie à genoux,
Régnez en souveraine, chez nous, chez nous
Soyez la madone qu'on prie à genoux,
Qui sourit et pardonne, chez nous, chez nous.
Salut, ô Notre-Dame,
Nous voici devant Vous,
Pour confier nos âmes
A votre coeur si doux.
Vous êtes notre Mère,
Portez à votre Fils
La fervente prière
De vos enfants chéris.
L'Archange qui s'incline
Vous loue au nom du ciel.
Donnez la paix divine
A notre coeur mortel.
Gardez, ô Vierge pure,
O Coeur doux entre tous
Nos âmes sans souillure,
Nos coeurs vaillants et doux.
Dites à ceux qui peinent
Et souffrent sans savoir
Combien lourde est la haine,
Combien doux est l'espoir.
Lorsque la nuit paisible
Nous invite au sommeil,
Près de nous, invisible,
Restez jusqu'au réveil.
Soyez pour nous la Reine
De douce charité,
Et bannissez la haine
De toute la cité.
A notre heure dernière
Accueillez dans les cieux
A la maison du Père
Notre retour joyeux.
Salut, ô Notre-Dame,
Nous voici devant Vous,
Pour confier nos âmes
A votre coeur si doux.
Vous êtes notre Mère,
Portez à votre Fils
La fervente prière
De vos enfants chéris.
L'Archange qui s'incline
Vous loue au nom du ciel.
Donnez la paix divine
A notre coeur mortel.
Gardez, ô Vierge pure,
O Coeur doux entre tous
Nos âmes sans souillure,
Nos coeurs vaillants et doux.
Dites à ceux qui peinent
Et souffrent sans savoir
Combien lourde est la haine,
Combien doux est l'espoir.
Lorsque la nuit paisible
Nous invite au sommeil,
Près de nous, invisible,
Restez jusqu'au réveil.
Soyez pour nous la Reine
De douce charité,
Et bannissez la haine
De toute la cité.
A notre heure dernière
Accueillez dans les cieux
A la maison du Père
Notre retour joyeux.
If anyone is remotely interested, I'll translate this: leave a comment. (Though Chez nous is itself a difficult phrase to translate: Chez nous means something like 'in our homes', but with an intimate feel, so that hearths, or even hearts might capture the feeling more.)
The other great French hymn of the pilgrimage is Chartres sonne, Chartres t'appelle:
R. Chartres sonne, Chartres t’appelle !
Gloire, honneur au Christ-Roi !
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Dieu de lumière, Divine Majesté, (bis)
Vos créatures chantent Votre Splendeur. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Par la souffrance, sur l’arbre de la Croix, (bis)
Jésus, Vous êtes l’Instrument du Salut. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Sauveur du monde, Maître de l’univers, (bis)
Votre puissance soumettra les nations. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Dans la détresse, en Vous je me confie, (bis)
Je m’abandonne à Votre Volonté. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Vous mon Refuge, soyez mon Réconfort, (bis)
En Vous mon âme trouvera le repos. (bis)
Je Vous adore, Cœur Sacré de Jésus, (bis)
Faites que j’aime tout ce que Vous aimez, (bis)
Et venez prendre possession de mon cœur. (bis)
O Notre Dame, ranimez notre Foi, (bis)
Dans les épreuves, gardez-nous l’Espérance, (bis)
Vierge Marie, donnez-nous la Charité. (bis)
En pèlerinage, Saint Louis guide nos pas, (bis)
Devant nos marches, déploie ton étendard, (bis)
Autour de Pierre, forme notre unité. (bis)
O Sainte Jeanne, apprends-nous à prier, (bis)
Par ton exemple, sanctifie notre ardeur, (bis)
Sainte de France, sauve notre patrie. (bis)
Michel Archange, éclairez nos chemins, (bis)
Prince des anges, venez nous secourir, (bis)
De par le monde, terrassez le Malin. (bis)
Gloire, honneur au Christ-Roi !
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Dieu de lumière, Divine Majesté, (bis)
Vos créatures chantent Votre Splendeur. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Par la souffrance, sur l’arbre de la Croix, (bis)
Jésus, Vous êtes l’Instrument du Salut. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Sauveur du monde, Maître de l’univers, (bis)
Votre puissance soumettra les nations. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Dans la détresse, en Vous je me confie, (bis)
Je m’abandonne à Votre Volonté. (bis)
Je Vous adore, mon Seigneur et mon Dieu, (bis)
Vous mon Refuge, soyez mon Réconfort, (bis)
En Vous mon âme trouvera le repos. (bis)
Je Vous adore, Cœur Sacré de Jésus, (bis)
Faites que j’aime tout ce que Vous aimez, (bis)
Et venez prendre possession de mon cœur. (bis)
O Notre Dame, ranimez notre Foi, (bis)
Dans les épreuves, gardez-nous l’Espérance, (bis)
Vierge Marie, donnez-nous la Charité. (bis)
En pèlerinage, Saint Louis guide nos pas, (bis)
Devant nos marches, déploie ton étendard, (bis)
Autour de Pierre, forme notre unité. (bis)
O Sainte Jeanne, apprends-nous à prier, (bis)
Par ton exemple, sanctifie notre ardeur, (bis)
Sainte de France, sauve notre patrie. (bis)
Michel Archange, éclairez nos chemins, (bis)
Prince des anges, venez nous secourir, (bis)
De par le monde, terrassez le Malin. (bis)
Again, I will translate on demand.
I should say that if you have no French, and no interest in learning any, you will still have a great time. But for those who do have a little French, it is worth putting in the effort to learn these two hymns.
The melodies are not perfect, but once you have sung them at Chartres they will always bring that Chartres feeling back to you...
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
Getting Practical
It has been pointed out to me that I have said nothing about the really practical stuff: how to book on the Chartres Pilgrimage.
No surprises there: I am strictly an ideas man. Apart from my pedantry with regard to language, I don't do detail.
However, I realise that it might be quite helpful for those interested to know rather more than I have let slip so far. So I am delighted to be able to point you at the Website, which contains a full itinerary etc. and also the contact details for Mr & Mrs Carey, who are the organisers of the British Chapters.
At present, the site says that Registration Forms will be available shortly: so either visit the site regularly to download one once they are available, or contact the Careys to get on their email list.
For those who enjoy French, the French site is here.
No surprises there: I am strictly an ideas man. Apart from my pedantry with regard to language, I don't do detail.
However, I realise that it might be quite helpful for those interested to know rather more than I have let slip so far. So I am delighted to be able to point you at the Website, which contains a full itinerary etc. and also the contact details for Mr & Mrs Carey, who are the organisers of the British Chapters.
At present, the site says that Registration Forms will be available shortly: so either visit the site regularly to download one once they are available, or contact the Careys to get on their email list.
For those who enjoy French, the French site is here.
Oh, and just a couple more things...
One of the things I forgot to mention in yesterday's post about the Chartres pilgrimage, is that now is also the time to start getting in shape for it.
If you are super-fit, like me, and run up the fells with your dog every morning before breakfast, this may be less of an issue.
But if not, it is worth serious thought. The pilgrimage is not unmanageable: indeed young children (who tend to be quite fit) do it readily. But many adults, used to a more sedentary life, do struggle. We walk serious distances (albeit over very easy countryside) over the first two days: about 50 miles. It can also be very hot.
So it is worth getting a bit of walking in now, on a regular basis, and also getting your boots broken in. Whilst it is kind to the Order of Malta volunteers to make them feel useful, they do have a very busy few days treating blisters.
The other aspect, of course, is the spiritual preparation: you can start collecting prayer intentions, maybe make a novena or two; also, get others praying for you on the pilgrimage.
Notre-Dame de la Sainte-Espérance, convertissez-nous.
If you are super-fit, like me, and run up the fells with your dog every morning before breakfast, this may be less of an issue.
But if not, it is worth serious thought. The pilgrimage is not unmanageable: indeed young children (who tend to be quite fit) do it readily. But many adults, used to a more sedentary life, do struggle. We walk serious distances (albeit over very easy countryside) over the first two days: about 50 miles. It can also be very hot.
So it is worth getting a bit of walking in now, on a regular basis, and also getting your boots broken in. Whilst it is kind to the Order of Malta volunteers to make them feel useful, they do have a very busy few days treating blisters.
The other aspect, of course, is the spiritual preparation: you can start collecting prayer intentions, maybe make a novena or two; also, get others praying for you on the pilgrimage.
Notre-Dame de la Sainte-Espérance, convertissez-nous.
Monday, 27 January 2014
Go on, you know you want to...
It is that time of year when you have to start your planning, if you want to go on the Chartres Pilgrimage.
Yes, of course you want to: to read my gripping account of the last time I went, try here here here, here and here. How could you resist?
The pilgrimage always takes place over Pentecost weekend. This year that means leaving London on Friday 6th June, walking on Saturday, Sunday and Monday (7th, 8th and 9th) and returning to London on Tuesday 10th June. That's why you need to start planning now: book those dates in your diary, find baby-sitters, pet-sitters, book time off work, and so on.
It is a truly wonderful experience - and you will have the added bonus of meeting me in the flesh. What further inducement do you need?
Yes, of course you want to: to read my gripping account of the last time I went, try here here here, here and here. How could you resist?
The pilgrimage always takes place over Pentecost weekend. This year that means leaving London on Friday 6th June, walking on Saturday, Sunday and Monday (7th, 8th and 9th) and returning to London on Tuesday 10th June. That's why you need to start planning now: book those dates in your diary, find baby-sitters, pet-sitters, book time off work, and so on.
It is a truly wonderful experience - and you will have the added bonus of meeting me in the flesh. What further inducement do you need?
Sunday, 23 September 2012
Rosary Crusade of Reparation
I have been asked to publicise the 28th National Rosary Crusade of Reparation, and am happy to do so.
It will take place on Saturday 13th October, and you are asked to assemble outside Westminster Cathedral by 1.45 pm, for a procession with the statue of Our Lady of Fatima to the Brompton Oratory.
As you would expect, you will be praying the rosary en route.
Their www site, with contact and other details, and photos of last year's crusade, is here.
It will take place on Saturday 13th October, and you are asked to assemble outside Westminster Cathedral by 1.45 pm, for a procession with the statue of Our Lady of Fatima to the Brompton Oratory.
As you would expect, you will be praying the rosary en route.
Their www site, with contact and other details, and photos of last year's crusade, is here.
Sunday, 3 June 2012
Chartres 2012 - Part 4
... in which our intrepid pilgrims complete their pilgrimage...
The kind French organisers let us have a lie-in to celebrate the last day of the pilgrimage. It wasn't until 5.25 that the PA System started playing Handel, and it was 5.30 before we were greeted with 'Bonjour chèrs amis pélerins...'
This being the last day, the routine was slightly different. Those of us travelling on the coach back to England had to put our luggage on the coach, rather than on the Etrangers lorry. The coach was parked just outside the campsite, so that was no great problem.
However, that meant that a number of lazy pilgrims realised that they could wait there to join the procession, which meant that those of us searching the campsite for the English were somewhat bamboozled - not least as the Union flag was also waiting by the bus.
However, a valiant few rallied around St Alban's flag, and managed to cope with the misdirection of the French organisers and find our place in the Normandie chapter.
On this final day, the first Region to march was Paris Nord, followed by the other Paris regions. Normandie were about 7th again, so we left camp at about 7.45, and picked up the lazybones by the bus on the way out.
I realise that my days are all blurred together. It was in fact on this day, Monday, the final day, that we passed the cemetery on the way out and sang the Requiem Introit. We were walking along a sunken lane at the time, which made me think of Waterloo, though I didn't mention that to my French friends...
We only had three marches: the first for 90 minutes or so, then 2 hours' march to the lunch field at Oisème, and finally 2 hours into Chartres. We covered a mere 22.5 km (14 miles) - it was scarcely worth putting our boots on.
However, we sang merrily, prayed our rosaries, had our confessions heard, and chatted animatedly for the whole way. Over the whole pilgrimage, we had walked 100 km which is about 62 miles.
We got to Chartres and found that we were not going to be in the Cathedral for Mass. I think ours was the first chapter not to make it, so we had good places on the square outside.
This was new for me. Each of the previous years I've been, I have managed to get in, either because the English were all inside, or by being in a makeshift choir, or (last year) by being with the Americans who were let in as they'd come so far... However, it was a better experience than I'd imagined. When inside the Cathedral, I had always ended up at the back, behind a pillar or something, and unable to see anything. The kids had always fallen asleep for most of the Mass... The atmosphere and the sound was fantastic, of course.
Whereas out in the square, there was a big screen, so one could see the Mass much more clearly, which was wonderful. The atmosphere and acoustics were not as good, but on balance it was fine.
The Mass was a High Mass, and finished with the Christus Vincit and the wonderful Marian hymn Chez Nous.
The kind French organisers let us have a lie-in to celebrate the last day of the pilgrimage. It wasn't until 5.25 that the PA System started playing Handel, and it was 5.30 before we were greeted with 'Bonjour chèrs amis pélerins...'
This being the last day, the routine was slightly different. Those of us travelling on the coach back to England had to put our luggage on the coach, rather than on the Etrangers lorry. The coach was parked just outside the campsite, so that was no great problem.
However, that meant that a number of lazy pilgrims realised that they could wait there to join the procession, which meant that those of us searching the campsite for the English were somewhat bamboozled - not least as the Union flag was also waiting by the bus.
However, a valiant few rallied around St Alban's flag, and managed to cope with the misdirection of the French organisers and find our place in the Normandie chapter.
On this final day, the first Region to march was Paris Nord, followed by the other Paris regions. Normandie were about 7th again, so we left camp at about 7.45, and picked up the lazybones by the bus on the way out.
I realise that my days are all blurred together. It was in fact on this day, Monday, the final day, that we passed the cemetery on the way out and sang the Requiem Introit. We were walking along a sunken lane at the time, which made me think of Waterloo, though I didn't mention that to my French friends...
We only had three marches: the first for 90 minutes or so, then 2 hours' march to the lunch field at Oisème, and finally 2 hours into Chartres. We covered a mere 22.5 km (14 miles) - it was scarcely worth putting our boots on.
However, we sang merrily, prayed our rosaries, had our confessions heard, and chatted animatedly for the whole way. Over the whole pilgrimage, we had walked 100 km which is about 62 miles.
We got to Chartres and found that we were not going to be in the Cathedral for Mass. I think ours was the first chapter not to make it, so we had good places on the square outside.
This was new for me. Each of the previous years I've been, I have managed to get in, either because the English were all inside, or by being in a makeshift choir, or (last year) by being with the Americans who were let in as they'd come so far... However, it was a better experience than I'd imagined. When inside the Cathedral, I had always ended up at the back, behind a pillar or something, and unable to see anything. The kids had always fallen asleep for most of the Mass... The atmosphere and the sound was fantastic, of course.
Whereas out in the square, there was a big screen, so one could see the Mass much more clearly, which was wonderful. The atmosphere and acoustics were not as good, but on balance it was fine.
The Mass was a High Mass, and finished with the Christus Vincit and the wonderful Marian hymn Chez Nous.
You will notice the huge number of (mainly young) priests who were in choir for the Mass, as well as the wonderful banners representing the various patron saints of the chapters as well as some national flags.
After Mass, we made our way to our hotel for a very welcome bath or shower, followed by a dinner for British and Australian chapters. Ant and some of the hardier folk went on to the pub after dinner, but I sloped off to bed (to supervise Dominique, you understand).
And so the pilgrimage proper was over, officially, for another year.
But not for us. Next day, we had a High Mass in the crypt of the Cathedral, sung by Fr Withoos, with an impromptu schola of Joe Shaw, Jamie Bogle and me. The crypt chapel Notre Dame Sous Terre (Our Lady below the ground) is fascinating as it may be the oldest Marian shrine in Christendom. Apparently the Druids had had a revelation and had inscribed an altar with the words virgini pariturae: the virgin who will conceive.... This is one of the wonders of Chartres, and we were very blessed to have a Mass there.
The other great sights are the Black Madonna, and Our Lady's Veil. Unfortunately, due to the (wonderful) work being done inside the cathedral to clean the stonework, the chapel containing Our Lady's Veil was not accessible this time.
After Mass, we returned to the hotel, collected Ant's passport, which had duly arrived, and boarded our coach.
The drive home was fun but relatively uneventful, and we left each other at Westminster Cathedral - all determined to come again next year, if we may...
Saturday, 2 June 2012
Jubilate Deo
And while we're about it, here's the Jubilate Deo we sing. Again, we treat it in a much more robust fashion. It has a wonderful sense of eternal pealing bells - and we can keep this up for five or ten minutes, covering a good half a mile of French countryside...
Typically it was this or the Magnificat (see previous post) that we would be singing fortissimo walking into camp at the end of a day's march.
Typically it was this or the Magnificat (see previous post) that we would be singing fortissimo walking into camp at the end of a day's march.
Magnificat
I mentioned that we sing Magnificat as a round on the walk to Chartres. This is the version we sing, though we do it with rather more gusto! (We also sing a slightly simplified melody: the oral tradition and all that - we picked it up from some French Scout troops who were belting it out behind us a few years back).
So imagine this being belted out by a chapter of 50 of us, striding through the French countryside, and you'll get the idea....
So imagine this being belted out by a chapter of 50 of us, striding through the French countryside, and you'll get the idea....
Chartres 2012 - Part 3
5.00 am on Pentecost morning, and I am awoken by heavenly music. As I come to, I remember where I am, and realise the music is Handel, being played over the campsite PA to wake us gently.
But they soon give up on that: ‘Bonjour, chèrs amis pèlerins, il est cinq heures, et il est l'heure de se réveiller,’ blares out an unreasonably cheery French voice. Within minutes, he is chivvying us further. “Chèrs pèlerins, il est l'heure de sortir de vos tentes pour les démonter.’ And only seconds after that: “Je vois qu’il y a toujours des tentes qui ne sont pas démontées!’
And so another day begins.
I woke the girls who had managed to sleep through all of that, and was pleased to learn that Ant was fully recovered. In sluggish fashion, we dressed, got some hot chocolate and bread for breakfast from the indefatigable kitchen teams, and packed the tent away.
Then we lugged our baggage and tent over to the Etrangers lorry, and found the rest of our chapter (by seeking out the Union flag) ready for the day’s walking. The first Region to walk was Centre, led by the Chapter from St Pétronille, of Le Mans. Centre also includes the two Chapters from Chartres itself.
Normandie were the seventh Region to leave the camp, so we were off at about 6.45 I think, though to be honest it's a bit of a blur.
Normandie were the seventh Region to leave the camp, so we were off at about 6.45 I think, though to be honest it's a bit of a blur.
To everyone’s relief, Sunday morning was slightly overcast, so although it was very hot when the sun was out, there was intermittent relief. Also, the day didn’t start with the gruelling march out of Paris which we had endured yesterday. In fact all the Sunday marches were under two hours.
Other than that, the pattern was much the same: a morning offering to start the day, and then sung rosaries, meditations, hymns, marching songs and conversation. However, as we passed the local cemetery on the way out, we also said a prayer for the dead and sang the Introit from the Requiem Mass.
One of the things I particularly enjoy is the variety of music we sing. Highlights are the great French Marian hymn, Chez Nous, and the various rounds, (Magnificat and Jubilate were always good rousing ones!) But also many of the secular songs, ranging from the old favourites such as Green Grow the Rushes-O to the Macgregor special: You push the damper in and you pull the damper out... complete with actions and words gradually omitted to trap the unwary.
In the middle of the day, we stopped in a large field at Les Courlis for the Pentecost Mass. This was a full High Mass, sung at a resplendent field-altar, which would have shamed most permanent altars in English (or French) Churches.
In the middle of the day, we stopped in a large field at Les Courlis for the Pentecost Mass. This was a full High Mass, sung at a resplendent field-altar, which would have shamed most permanent altars in English (or French) Churches.
We always particularly love the way in which the banner-bearers incline the banners in salutation at the Consecration. (Unfortunately they weren't caught in the act, but here you can see some of the banners: you have to imagine the action!)
After Mass, it was lunch time - and then more marching. By now, we were mainly marching through fields of wheat and barley. This area is known as the bread basket of France, and one could see why.
The highlight of Pentecost afternoon is always walking up a hill between fields to a summit from which the first glimpse of Chartres Cathedral may be had. It was faint, as the day was bright and a bit hazy in the distance, but very distinctive with its asymmetrical spires. A heartening moment, and it is only later, as they appear to get no closer for hour after hour, that the excitement wears off a bit.
The last march into the campsite is up a steep hill, and as one has by now marched about 78 km (48 miles) over two days, it is a tough pull. However we all made it, and once more, marched into camp singing lustily.
Supper was soup and bread, once again, and the same routine of pitching tents and washing in cattle troughs was followed.
To celebrate the Feast, there is Exposition and all-night adoration. I have to confess that after fifteen minutes, I retired to my tent...
UPDATE
Dominique tells me my brain is addled, and the steep hill is at the end of the Saturday march not the Sunday one. She is, of course, quite right.
UPDATE
Dominique tells me my brain is addled, and the steep hill is at the end of the Saturday march not the Sunday one. She is, of course, quite right.
Friday, 1 June 2012
Chartres 2012 - Part Two (supplement)
I realise that in the exhaustion induced merely by re-living the Saturday of the pilgrimage, I had cut the evening short. Just as I was going to haul my weary corpse into a sleeping bag, I was approached by the wonderful Francis and Julie Carey, who organise the whole English contingent.
They needed someone who could speak French: one of our number had collapsed on arrival at the camp, and was in the First Aid tent. It transpired that he had occasional epileptic fits, and had had one on arriving at the camp site. As the unofficial interpreter to the expedition, I made my way to the First Aid tent.
Nick was there, rather groggy, and not able to remember much about what had gone on. Francis and Julie had known of his condition, but he had assured them that he was fine if he took his medication.
The French doctors were busy, with plenty of people to look after, but when we spoke to them and explained the situation, they asked that we fetch his medication so they could see what it was, and that Nick stay under observation for a while.
However, Nick's medication was in a dispenser rather than original packaging; that was useful, as we could see that he had indeed taken it that day, but less helpful in identifying what it was. The doctors asked him to take another dose and stay in for observation. Some half an hour later I asked if we could leave, as Nick said he felt he wanted to go to bed. They agreed.
However, when Nick stood up, he was incredibly unsteady on his feet, swaying as though completely drunk, and unaware that he was doing so. I drew this to the attention of the doctors (who had of course, turned back to the other people they were tending) and they immediately sat him back down and said they wanted to hospitalise him, as none of them were experts in his condition and they wanted an expert opinion.
I suggested that a friend should accompany him, as Nick was looking both confused and concerned, and they agreed that would be a good idea. I did not want to go myself, as I was responsible for Dominique, who is only 13 and Ant, who while 21 was not well when last seen.
So I co-opted George (the same George who works for the LMS in London) whom I knew to speak French. He was a complete hero. Having been reading about submission to the Divine Will, he accepted that if this was what Our Lord wanted from him at this time....
So George went to the hospital with Nick (who had another episode just before leaving the camp, confirming the need for proper medical care) and spent the night and most of the next day with him, missing the bulk of the pilgrimage to which he (George) had been looking forward for years, since the last time he came 5 years ago.
Nick's dad came out from England to collect him; apparently it was a combination of heat stroke and epilepsy that had been the problem, and we hope and pray that he is now fully recovered.
They needed someone who could speak French: one of our number had collapsed on arrival at the camp, and was in the First Aid tent. It transpired that he had occasional epileptic fits, and had had one on arriving at the camp site. As the unofficial interpreter to the expedition, I made my way to the First Aid tent.
Nick was there, rather groggy, and not able to remember much about what had gone on. Francis and Julie had known of his condition, but he had assured them that he was fine if he took his medication.
The French doctors were busy, with plenty of people to look after, but when we spoke to them and explained the situation, they asked that we fetch his medication so they could see what it was, and that Nick stay under observation for a while.
However, Nick's medication was in a dispenser rather than original packaging; that was useful, as we could see that he had indeed taken it that day, but less helpful in identifying what it was. The doctors asked him to take another dose and stay in for observation. Some half an hour later I asked if we could leave, as Nick said he felt he wanted to go to bed. They agreed.
However, when Nick stood up, he was incredibly unsteady on his feet, swaying as though completely drunk, and unaware that he was doing so. I drew this to the attention of the doctors (who had of course, turned back to the other people they were tending) and they immediately sat him back down and said they wanted to hospitalise him, as none of them were experts in his condition and they wanted an expert opinion.
I suggested that a friend should accompany him, as Nick was looking both confused and concerned, and they agreed that would be a good idea. I did not want to go myself, as I was responsible for Dominique, who is only 13 and Ant, who while 21 was not well when last seen.
So I co-opted George (the same George who works for the LMS in London) whom I knew to speak French. He was a complete hero. Having been reading about submission to the Divine Will, he accepted that if this was what Our Lord wanted from him at this time....
So George went to the hospital with Nick (who had another episode just before leaving the camp, confirming the need for proper medical care) and spent the night and most of the next day with him, missing the bulk of the pilgrimage to which he (George) had been looking forward for years, since the last time he came 5 years ago.
Nick's dad came out from England to collect him; apparently it was a combination of heat stroke and epilepsy that had been the problem, and we hope and pray that he is now fully recovered.
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