Beginning

Feast of the Assumption 2020

You Act, God Acts. You work, God works. 

This quote by St Joan of Arc is one of my favorites as it cuts against my lazy and entitled inclination that operates according to a different hymn that goes something like, “when God rolls out the red carpet, I´ll deliberate as to whether to go down it.” God´s been teaching me in and through this path that He gives me enough to know what I am supposed to do, and reveals more the more I follow and get in line with what he wants. So in the summer of 2020 God had given me pretty much everything I needed to confirm that I should be doing for now what I call the Holy Fools plan. He gave me a competent spiritual director and a supporting friend or accountability partner. He gave me joy and a lot of graces living in poverty. But I still had a nice cushion of money, ok for me a nice cushion so not a lot, in the bank. But St Francis didn´t live with a safety net, if God was calling me to know Him through poverty, then I needed to get rid of it. So I did, and gave it to a friend of mine who needed help paying her debts to become a nun. Only she didn´t know this yet. And on the feast day I surprised her. I sent her a letter telling her she was supposed to become an nun along with a check for all my savings. Unbeknownst to me, she had been praying a novena for both a sign to help her discern if she had a religious vocation and if yes then for a financial miracle to pay off her immense student debts, to enable her to become a nun. Her novena ended on the day my letter arrived, on August 15, the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. This was a thrill for me, God must have wanted it if it came so punctually as an answer to her prayer. Also a confirmation that I do get some things right when I discern spirits. But for me this was a big step, and I waited in anticipation for the feast day for what might happen, as I usually get directions on Feast days. Anyway, on the vigil of the feast day, a fairly nerdy 40 year old german pilgrim came up to me in the Freiburger Munster after evening Mass, his name was Martin, and one nice thing about my potato sack is that it attracts interesting and often strange people. He was no exception, his overgrown tonsure caught my eye.  He was a pilgrim walking to Santiago from northern Germany, and needed a place to stay. He was an english teacher who´d been out of work for a few months due to COVID and decided to walk the camino de santiago. He was also discerning a religious vocation, he thought as a monk or franciscan. Anyway, I told him he was welcome in my tent, he obliged. We spent the evening together and had a lot in common. I had a harmonica, he had a test bagpipe, we read the imitation of christ and he introduced me to Angelus Silesius, an outstanding german hymnwriter and poet. He invited me to walk with him to Santiago. And when developments like this happen on feast days my ears pirk up a little more, hmm, why not? Well I could tell you why not, because Im not going to learn anything, in terms of book learning or my memorization, I will come back in 4 months and my german will be worse, I wont have preached, as my french isnt good enough, and it will be a big waste. Also I saw The Way (with Emilio Estevez and Martin Scheen) and since have had a prejudice against this pilgrimage because of how lame the film was. 

But nonetheless, I was intrigued, knowing that I had moved a step closer to what God wanted, I expected Him to show me more, this was a type of answer. So I decided at least to go with him for the weekend to the border with France. The next morning we went to Mass, he toured Freiburg for a few hours and we set off walking with the really lovely bouquets of flowers and herbs they give out to all the faithful on the feast day in Germany. Martin had a sort of silly quirkyness to him, and would sometimes walk holding this bouquet in front of his nose. Anyway, it didn´t take long for me to firmly resolve that this would be a short accompaniment, as a few hours walking with him and he was already driving me nuts. He was always wanting to look for the most scenic path, no matter how difficult it would be for me to traverse barefoot, by this I mean he showed an affinity for gravel, or at least no sensitivity for my pleas to take earthen or pavement alternatives. My feet were absolutely killing me after a half a days walking. Doing this for months seemed out of the question. Even after walking barefoot for about a year, 10km plus with a backpack was shockingly painful. Martin picked a nice thistle laced cornfield for us to sleep in for the first night and that was a last straw. I want to get back to Freiburg for Mass and my parish Sunday evening. I had an appointment at the immigration office the following week so I knew I had to be back anyway. The next day I parted with Martin in the morning, was planning to walk back to Freiburg but instead went to a town on the border with france called Breisach, had to beg for the money to get a train back and made it back to Freiburg in time for Mass.

Anyway, over the next two months I kept getting more suggestions to hike the camino de santiago. A friend suggested it out of the blue and offered me her guide book, for example. Also, the one thing I knew I really needed in terms of equipment was a good hiking backpack. The mother of a Catholic family I know offered me, again unsolicited, her husbands old and really nice purple hiking backpack. Ok, no excuses. Then in late september, when I was trying to hitchhike to a franciscan-capuchin monastery I wanted to visit, for the feast day of my Patron Saint Padre Pio, also a capuchin, and I couldnt get there. Hitchhiking in germany is usually a breeze, even for the bizarrely dressed!, and I do think its the sort of thing Divine Providence can work with. For the life of me I couldn´t get out of this tiny town in the black forest after waiting hours watching cars go by. I knew I´d missed the Mass at the monastery, then another hour and knew I couldnt make the dinner I was invited to after. What is this? If St Padre Pio wanted me to visit this monastery, I would be there, he is a powerful intercessor. I finally realized I was, by chance, stuck in Löffingen, a town along the camino de Santiago, and that was enough for me, I had to try it. I did a trial run, walking for a few days from this town back to Freiburg. And then spent a few weeks making sure my life in Freiburg was in order before I left. Near the end of October, I set out for Basel, no money, no shoes, a tent, a sleeping bag, a harmonica,  too many books and notebooks, I also started out with a massive wooden crucifix for street preaching. Anyway, walking barefoot you pay for every pound in pain. After 100km I ditched a few books. After 200, the crucifix and more books.