By Timothy Egan
Journalist Timothy Egan's account of making the 1000+-mile pilgrimage from Canterbury to Rome is one of the most inspiring, engaging travel books I've ever read. The Via Francigena is longer and much less known than El Camino and Egan has provided a combination travel account, historical record, and personal memoir as he recounts his own spiritual journey, sharing the ups and downs of beautiful scenery, blisters, and searing heat along the way.
Egan is a lapsed Catholic who wants to believe. His beloved sister-in-law Margie has advanced cancer, and he prays for a miracle cure for her as he makes his way to Rome. Starting his journey in Great Britain, he notes, "Say what you will about faith, but it anchored a nation for centuries", as he laments the country's spiritual unmooring. He then marvels "that a belief founded on a gospel of love could cause so much pain" (and will cite historical examples along the way) as well as refer to the tragedy of clergy sexual abuse, which led to the suicide of a close family friend. Yet Egan is encouraged by the current Pope, and hopes to meet Francis at the end of his pilgrimage.
As he walks through France, he sees majestic cathedrals - some are nearly empty these days while others have become tourist destinations, like the beautiful medieval city of Laon. Saint Jeanne d'Arc was a controversial figure, martyred at age 19, the only person condemned to heresy by the same faith that made her a saint - "evidence," Egan says, "of the deep bewilderment about women in a church run by men. I don't know why so many of the church elite were afraid of women with power, and why so many still are. The elevation of one sex does not have to be the diminishment of another." (p 94)
Walking through areas that saw such heavy concentrations of killing (17 M in the Great War alone), the author pauses at the reconstructed Arras cathedral and ponders why Germany, which produced so many brilliant Christian philosophers, would pulverize the original cathedral - a space devoted to the same God they worshipped - to dust. Over and over, he asks, "How can you join a faith whose nation-state followers have spent most of their years killing others of the same creed?" and yet, today, the church shows signs of hope. Back in Calais, asylum seekers have come from Aleppo and Mosul and it is the Catholic Church trying to distribute food and clothes, as well as provide portable showers for the refugees to clean up, as local police try to block these wanderers from services they feel will render them a public nuisance.
In Switzerland, the author is joined for a week by his con Casey and in northern Italy, by his daughter Sophie. He is cheered by these interludes and on one occasion, Sophie comes to the rescue with bandages and salve for her dad's aching feet. Much like Bill Bryson's Walk in the Woods with his sometimes companion Katz, the book brightens with the addition of a fellow traveler. Yet, it never suffers from their absence, as Egan's research is so thorough and his own shared thoughts so absorbing. He only rarely runs into other pilgrims, although that will change as Egan gets closer to Rome, when his wife Joni is able to join him for those last days of walking, taking a brief respite from caring for Margie.
Many of the towns provide guest houses for pilgrims, some in old monasteries. At the inn of the Augustinians at St Bernard, he is charmed by the dogs, "comically huge", weighing as much as him. He finds the mountains refreshing and the air clear, the sound of the cowbells charming. Churches are almost always open for introspection.
Curious but skeptical about the many relics and stories of miracles he hears along the way, the author visits the crypt of St Lucia Filippini in Montifiascone, Italy. She has been pronounced "incorruptible", meaning her body (dead nearly 300 years) has not decayed. What Egan experiences in her crypt will change his perspective. As St Augustine said, "Miracles are not contrary to nature, but only contrary to what we know about nature." (p 78) And he reflects on the words of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, remembered from his undergraduate days at a Jesuit college: "We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. But spiritual beings having a human experience."
"If England is the reason-based start of this Christian trail, and France the cynical center, Italy is soaked in the supernatural near the finish" (p 285), and Timothy Egan is clearly a wiser man by the end of his pilgrimage.
After reading this account, I would love to make this pilgrimage myself. But, even though I am only a few years older than the author when he made the trek, it is not likely to happen. I'm thankful that I could experience the pilgrimage through such a wise observer's lens.
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