Michael Jackson, Pierluigi, John Bunyan and the Pilgrim
When I was walking along the Camino, for a time I shared the path with an Italian gentleman named Pierluigi. We were getting near to Santiago, strolling through Galicia and we both remarked on some of the graffiti. For some reason, unfathomable to the vast majority of pilgrims, someone had gone out of his (or her) way to spray paint ‘Michael Jackson’ on walls all along the path. Why on earth would they do such a thing? Were they a fan of the late great singer, or perhaps it was their actual name? Whatever the case may be, Pierluigi had a different explanation, and it was one that he fervently believed in.
“We walk the Camino because of St. James,” he explained to me patiently. “Jack is short for James, whereas Michael is the Archangel. He has been on my mind quite a lot recently and when I saw that graffiti, I finally realised what my path is. Michael is Jack’s son. That is to say, that now I follow Jack but once I have reached Santiago, my next pilgrimage, the next generation you might say, is to follow St. Michael. To travel to places like Mont St. Michel in France or St. Michael’s Mount in England and learn from him.”
“So, it’s nothing to do with the singer?”
“No Matt, nothing to do with the singer.”
The sceptics among you (and I hope there are many, for scepticism can be a healthy attitude indeed) might be forgiven for being, well… sceptical. Indeed, my next question to Pierluigi was, “Do you think that the author knew that when they sprayed it?”
His answer is telling. “Probably not, but he didn’t need to. Messages can have several layers of meaning and often mean different things to different people.”
Before you call him mad, it must be said that Pierluigi comes from a very long and distinguished tradition. I have before me on my desk a book on Christian Mysticism. Mysticism is not too highly thought of these days, but for much of Christian (and other religions…) history it was seen as very important. Writers like Bernard of Clairvaux would take one line of scripture from a book such as the Song of Songs and compose an entire chapter on its different meanings. Indeed, he wrote eighty-six sermons on the book! Here’s an example. From the line, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!” he managed to extrapolate:
“The mouth that kisses signifies the Word who assumes human nature; the nature assumed receives the kiss; the kiss, however, that takes its being both from the giver and the receiver, is a person that is formed by both, none other than ‘the one mediator between God and mankind, himself a man, Christ Jesus.’”
And so on for several pages. Now, did the original author intend all of that? Almost certainly not. Historians will tell you that the Song of Songs was written simply as a love poem, part of a tradition of Hebrew literature for that period that is now overlooked. It had no spiritual or religious connotations; it was just about the love between a man and a woman.
And as for Christ Jesus, well, He wasn’t even born until so centuries later, so…
The desire to see hidden meanings in messages is an ancient one and, when on pilgrimage where the senses are heightened through exercise and meditation, natural. As I wrote about in my essay ‘Where the Two Seas Meet’, having a space where we can be irrational, explore those connections is important and pilgrimage is the ideal place to accommodate it. When I am walking the path, I see coincidences and connections, and I think about things more deeply and spiritually than I do in my normal life.
And in this way, I am probably quite in tune with our ancestors who trod the path before us.
Which brings me back home to my living room where I have a painting hanging on my wall.
The artwork in question is one that I bought when I was living in Japan and is one of those vertical scrolls that are so popular in the east. It was cheap and is not what you would call fine art, but I liked it when I saw it in the shop and so bought it, sent it home and then forgot about it.
Years later, when I returned to the UK and set up my home, I got it out and hung it up and ever since then it has struck me for, like Pierluigi’s graffiti, I believe it has a message to give and that message is the same one proclaimed in John Bunyan’s (1628–1688) famous hymn ‘To Be A Pilgrim’.
Let me explain.
Chinese scrolls can be read in a number of directions, but I read mine from bottom to top as it depicts a pilgrimage, a journey which, by it’s very essence, is an ascent. At the base of my scroll there is a bridge over the river and traversing it is the pilgrim with his staff and pack. He is fresh on his journey, full of vigour and intent, eager to push on to his holy destination or, as Bunyan describes in the first verse of his hymn:
Who would true valour see,
let him come hither;
one here will constant be,
come wind, come weather.
There’s no discouragement
shall make him once relent
his first avowed intent
to be a pilgrim.
Moving up the scroll what catches our eye are some houses nestled in the forest. These represent the town, community, other people. In Bunyan’s famous work, they are called Vanity Fair. It is the place that the pilgrim must pass through to continue on their journey. It may be distractions of a pleasurable nature, or it may be people whispering doubt or temptation into his ear. “Why are you walking to Santiago when it’s not that great anyway? There’s everything you need here!”; “All this pilgrimage stuff, it’s just in your mind, you do know that, don’t you? All this religious experience, just chemicals released into the brain? There’s nothing special; you’re simply on a long walk, mate.” Or perhaps, “You really shouldn’t be going on further? What have you got to prove? All you’ll do is injure yourself and then where will you be? It’s dangerous out there, you could get robbed or raped or whatever. You’re not prepared, untrained, too fat, too poor, too busy, too… whatever.”
You get the picture.
We cannot see our pilgrim in the town as the trees crowd out the view just as the whispers crowd his mind. But he is there, distracted, tempted, being told his fears. However, if he looks up, he can glimpse the great things to come. Gushing waterfalls, serene forests and, in the distance, mist-shrouded peaks.
Whoso beset him round
with dismal stories,
do but themselves confound;
his strength the more is.
No lion can him fright,
he’ll with a giant fight,
but he will have a right
to be a pilgrim.
And so, he walks on through, saying goodbye to the temptations, brushing aside the distractions and facing the fears. He walks on and, although the climb is tough, it is worth it. He attains his waterfall, then his forest, and then, far into the distance and future, so far that we can barely see it beyond the clouds is the outline of the Mountain of God, Santiago, Jerusalem or whatever the goal of his journey his and we know that he, like us, shall make it there.
Hobgoblin nor foul fiend
can daunt his spirit:
he knows he at the end
shall life inherit.
Then fancies fly away,
he’ll fear not what men say,
he’ll labour night and day
to be a pilgrim.
And so, the moral of the story, the picture, the hymn and the Camino is simple. Embrace the irrational, see the connections that are meaningful to you and use them to improve your life. Push on and fear not, you will get there in the end.
Just like I did. Just like Pierluigi did. Just like John Bunyan did.
As for Michael Jackson, whoever they were and whatever their purpose, let’s hope they did too.
Author’s notes:
The lyrics used in this essay are the original ones penned by Bunyan as a poem, not a hymn (as a Puritan, he was actually against singing). The version contained in most hymnals contains several differences. My favourite version of the hymn is that by Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band which uses the original lyrics.
I am fully aware that most Chinese scrolls depict famous images and stories and that mine probably does have a quite different tale behind it. If anyone knows what this is, I’d be most interested to hear.
Written 10/06/2023, Smallthorne, UK
Copyright © 2023, Matthew E. Pointon