Barnes in Common

the magazine of Churches Together in Barnes
September/October 2005

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Walsingham Pilgrimage 2005

by Simon Ramm

As I reached the northernmost stretch of the North Circular, refreshing blue signposts heralded the arrival of the first loose strands of the M11, beckoning me northwards and away from my orbit of London. We had wisely been reminded that our journey to Walsingham would be at the heart of our pilgrimage experience.

As soon as I was able I took back roads and approached Walsingham from its best side. It has a pretty and prosperous air about it – and has probably always been both. High brick and flint walls hide architectural and historical gems – a ruined priory and friary, medieval bridges – and the unrendered gables of almost every building in the village reveal its history like a child unable to keep a secret. The landscape too has a benign, open quality – flat and gently rolling countryside seems to provide few hiding places; the light is superb at all times.

We were staying in the beautiful grounds of the Anglican Shrine, close to the Shrine Chapel which houses a reconstruction of the Holy House which local aristocrat Richeldis had been instructed to build during her vision of Mary in 1061. This is how Walsingham became known as England's Nazareth. Many denominations are represented in the small village, which includes a Russian Orthodox chapel housed in Walsingham's former train station, with ticket counters and platform clearly visible despite the new dome and stunning icons.

This marked the start of our first morning's walk, for those of us who were able: the traditional mile or so between Walsingham village and the Roman Catholic National Shrine and Slipper Chapel. In fact we were doing this in reverse since the Slipper Chapel, south of Walsingham, is traditionally where pilgrims would leave their shoes and walk the last stretch barefoot so as to fully appreciate the holy mile. We appreciated the fine views, the wild flowers, even wild strawberries – and the conversations of new friends and old, the silence and the laughter. Reunited as a group at the Slipper Chapel the 20 of us embarked upon a somewhat cosier modern tradition – tea and wonderful cake in the garden, served with a "Bless you" from the priest in charge.

Many of us found inspiration and comfort in the two main services of the pilgrimage. The first, after dinner, was a benediction and sprinkling from the well inside the Shrine Chapel. One by one we descended to the well, were blessed, sipped the water, were crossed with it on our foreheads, and had the remainder poured through our hands as a symbol of God's limitless love. There were also opportunities for laying on of hands and healing prayers for the many present who were in need.

At the second of these rituals we each lit candle lanterns inside the chapel and began the first lines of the 37-verse Walsingham Pilgrim Hymn before processing outside then round the beautiful gardens, singing. Those of us who wondered how we would maintain tempo and pitch during this epic hymn were relieved that the organist accompanied us throughout via high performance loudspeakers hidden amongst the lavender beds.

It is a real pleasure to report that our group contained representatives from most of the churches in Barnes, not just St Michael's. The age range was also diverse, with our vicar Fr Paul now somewhere comfortably in the centre ground. In addition there was an emphasis on inclusiveness – efforts were made to include those who were unable to walk long distances and those who preferred not to drink in the village pub.

There were moving moments in the chapel, peaceful walks on the back lanes at night with new friends, and a chance to see people unwind in these safe surroundings. On our last evening we sat outside on the grass before dinner, amongst the roses and toe-nibbling ducks for a glass of wine – this pilgrim being inspired to do so by the sight of a group of nearby nuns and their two empty sherry bottles – this was also a chance to say thanks to Stevie for spending so many hours organising it all and driving the vast minibus so deftly.

Soon afterwards we were heading separate ways on very different personal journeys – back to work, or home, or on to the beach – but remembering the taste of the cool water, the tune of a very long hymn, and perhaps a brief glimpse of heaven while friends and strangers joined in unspoken common purpose.

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