The Walsingham Diaries 2011
... accounts by three assorted pilgrims of
the events of the 2011 PIlgrimage
Friday
Friday 14th October – it’s 7am and Reverend Martin Jones is
wide awake and raring to go, resplendent in dog collar and cassock
and, by association, so is Miriam (not in collar and cassock)……
We set off for St Oswald’s to make sure the church was set up and
ready for our fellow pilgrims from St Faith’s and St Mary’s arrival
in time for the 8.30 am Mass.
Everything checked, ready to go and we have an unexpected but
welcome visitor – our priest-in-charge at St Oswald’s, Canon June
Steventon who had come to church for Morning Prayer to find that
Martin had forgotten to mention (or indeed ask if it was ok) that we
were having our Pilgrim’s Mass! ‘Oh dear, I thought, what else has
been forgotten…?’ The next thing I found had NOT been forgotten was
my mother, Mona. Oh no, she was very much in evidence, as described
in pictorial form in the magazine and website, usually aloft!
A beautiful, intimate service then ensued, very much in keeping with
the rest of the weekend – Martin asking that we all try and take
‘something’ from each sermon or service that we were to attend
during our time at Walsingham. A phrase, a feeling, a memorable
experience…such things many pilgrims have felt before and will again
in the future. Some of our fellow pilgrims ‘escaped’ as soon as they
had taken Communion to ensure we were not to embark on our journey
on empty stomachs – ham and cheese croissants with a cup of warm
comfort to help us on our way. Many thanks to Gillian, Harry, John
and Catherine.
The journey was largely (and gratefully) uneventful, our driver Dave
being the perfect balance between being wonderfully polite,
attentive and easy going without ‘trying to entertain’. We managed
to do that all on our own… not least because Martin did actually get
us to sing most of the 56 verses of the Pilgrim’s hymn, albeit in
instalments!
The Welcome in the Green Room at Walsingham by our usual host Jeremy
was followed by the First Visit to the Holy House. I have now been
to Walsingham several times, but I still experience a unique feeling
each time I enter that place. Those wonderful words of that well
known hymn ‘These stones that have echoed Thy praises are holy’
always have a special significance for me when I visit and I hope
they always will.
Once settled in to our humble abode (and take it from me, the clergy
abode is more humble than most) we made our way to enjoy our evening
meal. Plenty of chat and ‘first impressions’ were shared over our
supper and then afterwards. Some of us went to the local hostelry,
whilst others joined fellow pilgrims from Rotherham (and other far
flung places) to share in life experiences, expectations of the
weekend to come plus many other (diverse) subjects! A full and
exciting day came to an end, with joyous anticipation for the days
ahead. We were not to be disappointed….read on…
Miriam Jones
Saturday
As first light dawned the windows in our room were streaming with
condensation. It had been cold overnight and later as we walked
through the village the similar appearance of other windows took me
back to the days before double glazing and the beginning of winter.
Little did we know that at the other end of the day the thoughts of
Christmas would be brought right back into the forefront of all our
minds at the evening service. However, we returned to the Shrine and
to the chapel of the Guild of All Souls for our 8 o’clock service.
For me a service at this time is generally from the Book of Common
Prayer but this was in the modern idiom and it was for me the most
moving of the visit. The intercessions were compiled from
suggestions made to our reverend leader and they represented the
thanks and wishes of our selves and those of our companions and as
such mean a lot to us all.
After breakfast (by the way the food here is very good) we went to
the chapel of the Holy House to begin our tour through the stations
of the cross. The last time I visited the stations of the
cross was in Jerusalem almost 20 years previous. Then the Via
Dolorosa was heaving with people, much I guess as it was in the time
of Jesus; however many were there not for the most charitable of
reasons as I had cause to persuade one of them to remove his hand
from a pocket. Today at Walsingham the difference was extreme – we
were in a warm sunny garden with the masses here singing a variety
of hymns to suit each stopping point combined with a gentle prayer
from Martin. This reliving of Eastertide proved a very emotional
event for many.
In the afternoon a group of 20 of us had an enjoyable visit to a
whisky distillery about an hours drive away. Then on returning the
whole community went to evening mass where we were reminded that
Christmas is not far off with a sermon based upon “Mam I want a new
bike” with the moral being that we do not need all the high tech
paraphernalia because our faith is sufficient.
After dinner we settled down in the ground floor lounge for an
evening’s entertainment - but unfortunately “Strictly” had finished;
but just as we were getting settled who should come in but the four
ladies of St Paul’s Rotherham, who the night before had provided a
most inspirational evening, and the current evening proved the night
before to be no exception. Whilst Norma was making bobbles out of
scraps of old wool for the children’s fancy dress, we heard how they
had managed to increase the congregation of St Paul’s even whilst
being without a vicar. They had done this by engaging children in
plays depicting stories from the bible, hence Norma’s current task
and this had resulted in over 35 families attending for that
particular service which was now a regular event. Joyce on the other
hand had over the last 12 months looked after and mothered over 30
foster children – most of them teenaged boys. Her stories were
heart-rending and indeed inspirational and in this company we ended
the second day.
John S Watkin
Sunday
By the time Sunday morning came around I had completely recovered
from any disappointment I may have experienced upon arrival in
Walsingham when I had found that I’d not been allocated my
wonderfully-named room of two years before: ‘The Angel of the Fiery
Furnace’. Perhaps it was no longer necessary to have such a
potent reminder of the way to behave each time one entered one’s
private quarters….. Nonetheless, the absence of fiery furnaces and
en-suite facilities was almost compensated for by the location of a
room which was directly opposite the shower room so: - easy to dive
across as soon as you realised the bathroom had been vacated.
It being Sunday morning I decided that I would indulge in a little
relaxation and so made myself a cuppa in one of the various
kitchenettes. An extra twenty minutes in bed with my cup of tea and
a chance to reflect on the previous two days of sunshine, services
and the social companionship of fellow
pilgrims. Having taken a
little longer with the early morning tea I found that most of the
residents of my corridor had already gone to breakfast so I then had
the added luxury of the bathroom to myself without feeling I was
keeping people waiting. I didn’t think I’d been that long but,
by the time I approached the dining room, a search party (if Bill
Tudhope can be referred to as a ‘party’) had been launched. Before I
could be too overwhelmed by the concern of my fellow travellers I
realised that I was only required because David needed me to sign
the cheque to pay our bill!
It is the tradition to attend the 11o’clock Parish Mass at St Mary’s
in the village which meant more time to stroll around the grounds
and the village, to read, take a quiet visit to the Shrine church or
even squeeze in a little more browsing and shopping before church. I
think this is one of the features of the Walsingham trip that people
most enjoy: the choice of free time to spend alone or to keep the
company of others, doing just as you feel. It is not a luxury
frequently afforded to us in the course of our daily lives.
A leisurely stroll in the sunshine down the village street to St
Mary and All Saints, Little Walsingham for a Mass on the 29th Sunday
of the year gave us another opportunity to be thankful for this
lovely place and our chance to be there. St Mary’s is a very light,
bright and beautiful church and the home congregation are well
accustomed to the pilgrim ‘invasion’. Something else to appreciate
though as I fumbled with three separate service books was the
informative clarity of our regular Sunday service sheets at St
Faith’s! The sermon that morning was most apposite, centring upon
Matthew’s Gospel ‘rendering unto Caesar’ etc etc. Doubtless more
will be heard from this source in our forthcoming Stewardship
campaign…..
Pre lunch drinks and a Sunday roast – no cooking, no washing up –
perfect.
The final two services of the week-end are the Sprinkling and
blessing with the waters from the ancient well after which pilgrims
are asked to sit quietly and reflect. There is then the offer of
afternoon tea and finally, the procession of the Blessed Sacrament
with Benediction. The Sprinkling is a simple but touching and very
effective service I think and it felt right to go and sit quietly in
the grounds straight afterwards. It was then that perhaps one of the
most significant things about the week-end occurred for me. The
bench I went to sit on was already occupied by an eldery gentlemen
who was reading his paper. There were a couple of children nearby
who were trying to make a tally of all the ladybirds in the
surrounding flowerbeds. After five minutes or so the gentleman
looked up from his paper and made a comment about the counting
system the children were using; they seemed to have managed to rise
from 36 to 932 in the space of a couple of seconds! I couldn’t help
but smile and reply and conversation developed from there.
This man had flown to Norwich from Edinburgh. His wife had died just
3 weeks before. It had always been her intention to visit the Shrine
but she had never done so and her death had actually occurred on the
24th of September, the day which commemorates Our Lady of
Walsingham. After the funeral arrangements and before returning to
face the daunting task of sorting and ordering which follows a
death, he was here to grieve and give thanks for their life
together. Our conversation ranged over many topics - it meant I
missed the afternoon tea and the final service; the procession
walking along the paths around us – but that didn’t matter, it
seemed more important to talk and to listen. If anyone hears of a
forthcoming play by a writer named McShane on either BBC radio or TV
which features a ghost story, Robert Burns and an unusual gathering
of The Burns’ Society then please let me know; it’s by the son
of my friend of that Sunday afternoon.
The bell tolled for the end of the service, Mr McShane and I shook
hands, I completed my job as ‘key monitor’ to return all room keys
to reception, Mona was hoisted aloft and aboard and we were off: not
quite back to reality, as I recollect the conversation taking place
in some quarters on the journey home… but that’s another story!!
Maureen Madden
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