26. Choice of Crosses

Pilgrimage Chapel, Altotting, Germany. (Tomasito photo)

26

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The Choice of Crosses

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There is a stack old crosses by the entrance of the covered porch, which encircles the little pilgrim’s chapel in the middle of Altotting.

The crosses are made of wood, squared and joined, and come in all sizes, from little things a foot long and weighing a few ounces to big ones maybe five feet long weighing maybe twenty pounds.

They are there for pilgrims like me to chose and carry as we make a counterclockwise circuit around the octagonal chapel under the protective porch.

This custom may perhaps be traced to the “Take up your cross and follow Me.” remark made by Jesus in one of the gospels. Somebody took it literally a few centuries ago and it is still more than poetry here.

What to do?

After all these years, and all the ludicrous things I have done, pride is still a problem for me.

What will people think if I should pick up one of these handy pilgrim’s crosses and walk around the chapel? There goes another fool!

I simply watch for two days; but the third day, at dawn before the crowds arrive, I select a small cross and follow (not too closely) a young woman slowly circumambulating the old building.

The paving stones underfoot are worn smooth by centuries of curious, hopeful, faithful pilgrim’s feet, while surrounding the walking pilgrim above and on every side on pillars, walls and ceiling of the porch are fastened testimonial folk art paintings celebrating hundreds of examples of miraculous intervention in human affairs: “Maria helped”, they say, with illustrations of farmers trapped under wagons, houses on fire, sick children—all the hopeless situations of life where miraculous involvement seems to be the only possible solution. Some of these pictures are centuries old others are fresh and new.

During the my first time around I decide that the cross I picked up is too small for me and the next circuit I exchange it for a large one more my size, then I pace slowly around––once for Andrew and Steve, once for the family, friends and memories, once for life and hope and once for love—

Then the organ begins to play in the chapel so I enter the garishly decorated sanctuary with the other pilgrims where, beyond the candles and the shining gold leaf, as always in my terrible heart, the Great Mystery is pulsing.

Tomasito, 2009


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