About the author: Christina Debusschere is a wife, mother, and cradle Catholic who grew up on a farm in northeastern Alberta. She holds a B.A. in music and a B.Ed. from Concordia University of Edmonton. Between rosaries and sinks of dishes, Christina enjoys reading, making music, educating her children, rational dialogue with her husband, and a good cup of coffee.
(All quotations from The Mistress of Husaby, chapter 6, unless otherwise noted)
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Pilgrimages are a long-standing Christian practice, yet when we seek to make one, where should we turn for guidance? Films like The Way convey the message that a pilgrimage is whatever you want it to be (hardly surprising that the featured characters experience precious little transformation), while internet articles are often little more than a glorified travel guide. For a pilgrimage to be truly transformative and spiritually life-giving, we ought to follow more ancient custom. The sense of a pilgrimage as a sacred and penitential journey, rather than a glorified vacation, is something worth recovering. I believe one worthy example may be found in Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter, a novel set in fourteenth-century Norway. Although it is fictional, the description of her pilgrimage and the inner workings of her heart during the journey offer us fitting material for reflection.
“Kristin was to set out on her walk to Nidaros three days after the mass of the Seljemen…”
In book two of Kristin Lavransdatter, the title character sets out on a pilgrimage to atone for the premarital conception of her son, as well as for her complicity in the death of her husband’s mistress. She also has an intention of thanksgiving: she had made a vow to walk barefoot to the shrine of St. Olav if he would make her unborn son whole and living. His intercession results in the birth of her healthy son, and not too long afterward, Kristin’s brother-in-law, a priest, counsels her as she plans her pilgrimage. His recommendations are solitary life, prayers, reading and meditation, and fasting (but with caution, due to nursing a child).
While Kristin’s reasons for undertaking this pilgrimage are likely more grave than most of our own reasons, we can still reflect on serious matters, interior or exterior, that need prayer. Are there serious sins of our past that require atonement? Is there an area of our soul that is in serious need of growth or transformation? Is a certain fault or habitual sin preventing us from advancing in the spiritual life?
In preparing for a modern pilgrimage, perhaps the “solitary life” recommendation means getting off social media, avoiding endless scrolling through news headlines, or keeping our distance from friends who are inclined to gossip or speak idly. While we can’t cut ourselves off from the world entirely, a gradual return to silence and learning to be still with God and our thoughts prepares us to enter a pilgrimage more fully.
Another aspect of preparation for us—though not highlighted by Kristin’s experience—is time outdoors. We spend so much of our time sedentary and indoors: when was the last time you really noticed the sky, or felt which direction the wind was coming from? When was the last time you walked on an outdoor surface that wasn’t pavement? By spending more time outdoors in awe of God’s creation, your thoughts during the pilgrimage can then move from praise of our Creator to praying for your pilgrimage intentions.
“She was to walk the twenty miles with no other company than their prayers… In a bag that hung from her neck she had the golden garland, money and a little bread and salt. She took her staff in her hand, bowed deeply before the priest, and began to walk…”
Kristin brings along her nursing son, carried on her back, along with the “golden garland,” which was her bridal crown. This crown was to be worn by brides as a symbol of their virginal purity. Kristin had not disclosed her sin to anyone and so deceived others by wearing the crown on her wedding day. She takes the garland to Nidaros as a tithe to the cathedral.
When planning a pilgrimage, we often think of what we will do on the way, but how often do we consider what we might give God at the destination? Our prayers of praise and thanksgiving are an obvious answer, but what about physical offerings?
The simplicity of Kristin’s luggage is likewise worth considering. Besides the garland and her son, the most basic of food and a pittance of currency is the remainder of her baggage. While her pilgrimage is far shorter than what we might undertake, we should consider whether we are packing true necessities or mere creature comforts. As well, leaving one item off can lead to more (not packing a phone? No need to worry about a charger or earbuds).
“Lord Jesus Christ, holy Mary, St. Olav—she longed to reach the goal of her pilgrimage—she longed to cast from her the burden of the hidden sins of years…”
These are Kristin’s thoughts as she walks silently along the way. Amid her prayers, she ponders her guilt and asks for mercy. Her sins weigh heavily on her soul; when was the last time you experienced such a weight? How quickly did you turn to confession? Or did you let the thorn of sin remain lodged in your conscience, festering until the discomfort gave way to numbness?
We live in an age so focussed on self-acceptance that we frequently absolve ourselves quickly and forget our sins. We do not recognize the gravity of our offenses or how deeply we may have wounded others in the process. We minimize God’s laws and make comparisons with the sins of others, saying, “Well at least I didn’t murder someone” or “It’s not like I committed adultery or something!” One unrepented sin tends to lead to others, and in forgetting our own mistakes, we also become quick to judge others or indulge our own whims on a regular basis.
While God certainly blots out our transgressions (Isaiah 43:25) and removes our sin as far as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12), our remembrance of our lowly state can spur us on to seek God with greater fervour. We have a concupiscible appetite, an urge to do what we do not love (cf. Romans 7:15) or what we recognize—at least rationally—to be wrong. A pilgrimage offers plenty of time for a thorough examination of conscience, as well as deeper thought on the negative day-to-day habits that we fall into. What tendencies to sin do you experience in your everyday life? Is there one of the seven deadly sins that you need to combat with greater vigour? What about a particular work, family, or social situation that you struggle with? How have you hurt others who are involved? Are there apologies you need to make? What sort of restitution might be appropriate when you return from your pilgrimage?
“Kristin stood on Feginsbrekka and saw the city lying below her in the golden sunlight… above the green land, above the fair city, rose Christ’s Church, so mighty, so gloriously shining…
Quite overcome, sobbing, the young woman flung herself down before the cross by the wayside, where thousands of pilgrims had lain before her…”
The arrival at the end of one’s pilgrimage is a glorious moment. For a bystander observing this moment, it is the conclusion of a long day’s walk, but for Kristin, it has a far deeper significance: the end of her bondage under sin. The full context of the book leading up to this point is well worth reading; Undset masterfully presents the workings of the soul as it falls from virtue, recognizes the horror of sin, and rises with the aid of grace to seek God again.
Although Kristin is still young, she is mature enough to recognize that sin—any sin—means separation from God, our loving Father. She longs to return to Him fully. Her simplicity of spirit is an admirable trait, and one that we might seek more in an age so consumed by the omnipresent internet. Many of us frequent social media sites, and we get caught up in the image we portray digitally, even if it’s not who we really are. We end up with conflicting elements of our real versus online personae.
Yet when we look at Kristin’s example or at the lives of the saints, we see that simplicity or holy shamelessness of character. Consider Our Lord weeping over Lazarus: did He waste time thinking about the kind of image He was portraying? Was He concerned that His disciples would think He was less of a man for crying in public? God wants us to have hearts that are fully alive, yet we stifle any visible emotions so quickly, leading to a world of blank-faced, boring Christians. We are to love God with our whole hearts, so why do we prevent ourselves from showing it? If deep joy, sorrow, or other feelings arise as the result of prayer during your pilgrimage, are you willing to express them and praise God with your entire heart?
“The undeserved mercy broke her heart asunder; she knelt crushed with penitence…”
Kristin recalls the hardness of her heart during her courtship, and how she turned aside from God’s good gifts in order to slake lust’s thirst. Then she recognizes the mercy of God in the innocent figure of her son, Naakve. He is a pure, innocent little baby, a gift that she knows she does not deserve. The stark contrast brings her to tears and she marvels at the goodness of the Lord.
Pilgrimages are not a loop: the beginning and ending are mutually exclusive. Many miles lay in between, and naturally, change must take place along the way. What a shame it would be to go so far and yet remain the same within! Before the first step, we should ask ourselves if we are willing to leave our sin behind and nevermore be the same.
The call of Our Lord to follow Him is not an easy one to answer. Taking up our cross each day can seem like an impossible task. Finding at the end of an examen that you’re still committing the same sins as a decade ago can make you feel completely despondent. Although Kristin recognizes God’s goodness and mercy, she is struck by just how far removed she is from Heaven or even from a virtuous life. The thought is overwhelming. In a prayer before St. Olav’s shrine, she hears the words “Understand you now, Kristin, that you need help?”
A common fault of mankind is the pursuit of limitless self-efficacy. We want to do it all ourselves. Yet grace does not work that way: we need to cooperate with the Holy Spirit and accept God’s free gift. We need the prayers of the holy saints and angels, not to mention the prayers of those in the next pew. When was the last time you asked someone to pray for you, not due to illness or other trying circumstances, but simply because you’re a miserable sinner in need of prayer?
One final consideration: the ability and opportunity to make a pilgrimage is not one to be wasted. Think of the many souls in the Church who would love to make a pilgrimage but cannot, whether because of disabilities, work and family obligations, or other reasons. Offer your prayers for these individuals and make use of the opportunity God has given you. Recall Kristin’s gratitude not only for God’s indescribable mercy, but also for gifts such as the sacraments and pilgrimages, for these are like “helping hands stretched out towards human souls on their journey through this fair and perilous world.”
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