Article
Belief
Change
6 min read

What makes a journey a pilgrimage?

Travel may broaden the mind, but pilgrimage can nourish a soul.

Graeme is a vicar of Marsden and Slaithwaite in West Yorkshire. He also cycles and juggles.

A country lane runs down a gentle hill between green and yellow fields under a cloud dappled sky.
The fields of Hertfordshire
Graeme Holdsworth.

On the recent anniversary of Chaucer’s pilgrims setting off to Canterbury, the British Pilgrimage Trust held a symposium on apocalyptic pilgrimage and spiritual tourism, in a London church – St James Clerkenwell. Nick Jones, the Editor of Seen & Unseen knows of my predilection for a spiritual aspect to travel, and recommended I go along. The only problem with his recommendation was that I live in West Yorkshire, and London seemed like an expensive journey for an evening sat quietly on church pews. 

My nearest church is St James in Slaithwaite, and as St James is the patron saint of pilgrimages, it seemed obvious to turn the journey into a pilgrimage. The shortest walking distance is 185 miles and would take me a month to walk. Kosuke Koyama wrote that the speed of love is three miles an hour, the speed God walks. However, God has an eternity to travel, and I had to be back to lead Holy Communion the following Sunday. Cycling (the cheapest, easiest, and finest form of travel) would take me two days, if I took it easy and stayed in a hotel halfway. 

I love the isolation of these high places, the wilderness-ness; it is a place for crying out, and place where only God is listening. 

Not every journey is a pilgrimage. Sometimes people are just travelling. What would make this a pilgrimage rather than simply a long bicycle ride? I believe it is the intention of the heart that makes the difference - what are pilgrims hoping to achieve? Travel tends to broaden the mind, but a pilgrimage is something that might nourish a soul. There is no suggestion that every pilgrimage is religious, but when people undertake pilgrimages they are making a statement that they’re looking for something beyond themselves. For those who are religious, they’ve made space to meet God in the full knowledge that they may be disappointed. Dr Paula Gooder wrote that Christian faith sometimes focusses rather heavily on the state of a person’s soul, neglecting the state of their body. I hoped to enjoy some beautiful cycling, to re-engage with physical-prayer, and to worship God with my heart, soul, mind and strength in a whole body way. Racing cyclist Jens Voigt famously said, “Shut up legs” when the lactic acid began to burn, but what if my legs are speaking a non-verbal language understood by their creator God? Then let them shout: let the hydrolysis of adenosine triphosphate be my body praying ceaselessly, without words. 

The beginning of my pilgrimage took me south and east along the edge of the Peak District. In my planning I had relied on cycling heat-maps to find the roads cyclists preferred. As I climbed a steep hill, I remembered that cyclists are a stupid bunch who often go out and find the hardest roads to cycle. I paused for breath at the top of the climb from High Bradfield; where the Agden, Dale Dike, and Strines reservoirs were stacked up into the distance, and the call of peewits pierced through the noise of the wind. I love the isolation of these high places, the wilderness-ness; it is a place for crying out, and place where only God is listening. 

Bolsover castle was the last serious climb of the day, and from this point on the landscape became a lot gentler. Along the ridge after Bolsover, skirting around the west of Mansfield, I noticed the call of Skylarks, and that the fields had changed from drystone walled moorland to green and yellow crops, surrounded by hedgerows. Houses now had thatched roofs rather than the slate tiles of West Yorkshire. I also began to notice churches: Cottage-core villages with pretty gardens and pubs-on-the-green, their church buildings that seem well-kept, giving rural communities a sense of identity. It was around 7pm when I reached a Peterborough hotel. 

Pilgrimages are often built around the destination, but I’ve found a real joy in the interim moment; the time between setting off and arriving.

Getting up in the morning after a long day of physical exercise is not easy. Although this day would bring an end to my mini-pilgrimage, I was looking forward to the symposium and meeting other pilgrims. Evensong at St Paul’s Cathedral was to begin at 5pm, and needed an early start to make sure I would arrive in time. 

I passed a roadside marker with the distances to Huntingdon and London painted black on a white stone. The Milestone Society’ seeks to preserve these way markers which have a history stretching back to Roman times. I felt a sense of historical connection to those who would have travelled before me. 

There was next to no traffic and I was alone with my thoughts and the songs I sing to myself when I’m happy. One of the lovely things about cycling is the activity itself: we’re doing the thing we want to do, and when we’ve finished we will no longer be doing the thing we want to do. Pilgrimages are often built around the destination, but I’ve found a real joy in the interim moment; the time between setting off and arriving. 

I’m glad I didn’t just catch a train to London. I felt that I’d remembered the diversity of English countryside, the freedom of long-distance cycling, and made connections with like-minded pilgrims.

The traffic was increasing as I closed in on London, and I noticed another change in the housing. Here in the home counties the houses were getting a lot larger, further back from the road, and protected by gates and security systems. The sense of community that came from closely packed thatched cottages around an ancient church building was disappearing. Then suddenly there was an exponential shift in the cycling experience as I entered Enfield: cars, scooters, cyclists, motorbikes. The sound, and visual intensity of city living humanity swamped my senses. 

 I’m glad I didn’t just catch a train to London. I felt that I’d remembered the diversity of English countryside, the freedom of long-distance cycling, and made connections with like-minded pilgrims. I also refreshed my spiritual practice of physical prayer, and time alone with God in the wilderness. 

It was about 2:30pm when I checked into my hotel near Kings Cross, unpacked the clothes I’d brought with me and freshened up before taking a walk south to the Thames embankment. After a pie and pint in a London boozer, on the banks of the River Thames, I walked to St Paul’s Cathedral for Evensong, then joined a walking-pilgrimage back to St James in Clerkenwell. St James Slaithwaite to St James Clerkenwell completed, arriving in time for The British Pilgrimage Trust’s symposium of talks and singing. Among the wonderful speakers, it was a delight to hear historian Tom Holland as he spoke to the apocalyptic call: to be a pilgrim. 

He spoke about Chaucer, pandemics, black death, and the community aspect of pilgrimages. He joked that academic historians tend to be squeamish about attributing too much credit to religious or spiritual experiences as driving forces behind historical events. However, spiritual and religious drivers are significant: in 1033 there was a massive pilgrimage from all over Europe to the holy land, which came with an apocalyptic anxiety as 1,000 years had passed since the death and resurrection of Jesus. I reflected that contemporary anxiety of apocalypse is less focussed on the return of Christ and more on trigger happy world leaders in Russia, Israel and Iran…but I wonder if there will be a similar Christian pilgrimage in 2033. 

 

Read a full account of Graeme’s pilgrimage ride on his blog.  

Find out more about the British Pilgrimage Trust’s routes and resources.  

Article
Change
5 min read

To buy or not to buy, that is the question

Fast fashion antidote brand, Yes Friends, set out to save the world one t-shirt at a time. Its founders’ defiant optimism is proving to be rather infectious, writes Belle Tindall.
Yes Friends campaign
Olu and Funsho model Yes Friends t-shirts.
Photo: Yes Friends.

How seriously do you take your moral conscience? How much heed do you pay to your inner monologue? 

Sam Mabley, one of the founders of Yes Friends, was wandering around a shopping centre one day when his conscience told him that he couldn’t buy any item of clothing that was made un-ethically. Any garment which had in any way contributed to the exploitation of those who had made it was simply off limits.   

To buy or not to buy: it was, and is, a question of justice.  

It may be helpful at this point to remind ourselves why, to put such a thought in context.  

The global garment industry is growing at an unprecedented rate. Having doubled in size in the past fifteen years (in terms of global revenue), it is predicted that by 2030, the industry will have grown by another 63%. What’s more, if it continues to operate at the speed and intensity we’re seeing at present, it will devour far more resources than the earth can possibly provide. This world of ours has never seen anything quite like this.  

The garment industry has therefore, unsurprisingly, become the most labour-dependent industry of our age. In particular, the ‘fast’ fashion industry (a large swathe of the industry that relies on incredibly fast, cheap, and large-scale production) is being propped up by a vast and complex supply chain. It quite literally spans continents. And somewhere, often lost in the middle of it all, are the near sixty-million garment workers, the vast majority of whom are living in poverty.  

Despite it being widely acknowledged as a Human Right, millions of garment workers are being denied a liveable wage. They are drastically over-worked and perpetually under-paid, working in notably dangerous conditions (the likes of which are often highlighted by news of factory fires that continue to take lives in Bangladesh) and denied any form of job security.  

All of this is being relentlessly driven by our insatiable demand.  

With this context in mind, back to Sam.  

Their entire business model exists to be a correction of an industry that is so harmful it can be hard to fathom, and yet, there’s no doom present in the DNA of Yes Friends. 

A few years after his conscience began to nudge him and he’d consequently set up an ethical clothing shop, Sam found himself unexpectedly stumbling upon Bible verses such as, 

‘So I will come to put you on trial. I will be quick to testify against sorcerers, adulterers and perjurers, against those who defraud laborers of their wages’ 

And even,  

‘Look! The wages you failed to pay the workers who mowed your fields are crying out against you. The cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord Almighty.’ 

That can often happen. One finds themselves bumping into bible verses as one unexpectedly bumps into an old friend that they had just found themselves thinking about – just at the perfect time. You can consider it coincidence, or as Sam did, you can consider it confirmation.  

Fast-forward to April 2021, Sam and a band of merry co-founders launched a strategically simple campaign that caught a huge amount of attention: they encouraged consumers to pre-order a plain white T-shirt for £7.99, thus showcasing that ethical fashion doesn’t have to be unachievably expensive. And two-thousand people did just that (many of whom doubled up, bringing in around 4,000 initial orders), they bought into a product and, more importantly, into an idea. With large scale, small margins, and the will to do things differently, our most foundational items of clothing don’t have to cost the (literal) earth. Yes Friends have proved it.  

When chatting to Sam and Dan (another of Yes Friends’ original pioneers), I was struck by how their hopefulness had, and still does have, practical application. Their entire business model exists to be a correction of an industry that is so harmful it can be hard to fathom, and yet, there is no doom present in the DNA of Yes Friends. On the contrary, optimism and joy are baked into this brand. It reminded me of a conversation I had with Lord Micheal Hastings, a man who has spent his entire life ‘bending the power of the prosperous to the potential of the poor,’ who was a guest on the first season of the Re-Enchanting podcast. Lord Micheal met my gloomy admission that I so often feel too small to be any kind of solution to the world’s many injustices with the kindest and most profound telling off I’ve ever received. He said,  

‘We’re too big not to be the solution. What fills the space of the problem should be our optimism. We should be willing to step into the breach where things don’t work and make them work’.  

And that’s exactly what Yes Friends are doing. Sam’s words had that exact optimism in them when he simply said, ‘we can do this better, so why don’t we?’. He and his team have consequently stepped into the breach where things aren’t working and are showing that things can work in a fairer, non-exploitative, far more conscious way. They are working with a solar powered, water-positive, Fair Trade certified factory in Northern India. On top of this, Yes Friends has pioneered a bonus scheme, paying an additional premium directly to the garment workers, ensuring that they receive a good wage.  

And what’s really striking about Yes Friends’ success, aside from the fact that they’re saving the world one t-shirt at a time, is that their defiant optimism is proving to be rather infectious.  

As noted, it strikes me that when people are buying products from Yes Friends - as well as buying a beautifully crafted piece of clothing – they are purchasing a piece of this defiant hopefulness. People are buying into a better way, committing to making a better choice. It’s this way of innovating that can create a truly circular way of consuming: Yes Friends are serving their customer base, who are serving the garment workers, who are then re-serving the customer base. And on it goes.  

The brand has cultivated such a good relationship with their customers that they have managed to incorporate their voices into the creative process. Their customers are continually encouraged to communicate their wants/needs and even have a say in the design of the clothing.  

Yes Friends are making wonderful, high quality, clothes; and they’re dispelling any kind of ‘it just is the way it is’ myths along the way.  

So, back to our key question. To buy or not to buy? When it comes to Yes Friends products, I should think the answer is obvious.