Last year, I began Pentecost Sunday, the 25th anniversary of my baptism &c., by serving Fr Rowe's Low Mass at a very early hour, alongside many other priests and servers saying Masses at temporary altars, in a tent in a field somewhere in France (for an image of a like scene from 2005, see this photo): for I was on the Chartres Pilgrimage. Having found the pace and the heat and the burden of the first day's march too much (nearly 40 km), I had resolved to cease and desist, realizing I wasn't up to the standard; so after Mass, I packed up and watched the great pilgrim host depart, before arranging to get to the local train station (thanks to the kindness of the French volunteers), and then heading on to Chartres via Paris (again, given directions thanks to a fellow pilgrim who was also unable to continue). Having arrived at Chartres somewhat after midday, I dragged myself to my accommodation, booked an extra night, at last had a shower! said my prayers, ate some of the rations I'd shouldered in my day pack, and turned in: I think I slept for eighteen hours. That was my Pentecost in 2012.
Being a little tired, and having this evening attended the vigil Mass, I think I shall sleep in tomorrow, as seems fitting...
Pray for the Chartres pilgrims: it is a very tough slog, and I can but salute them in their fervour and commitment. Pray too for France, once more cutting off her nose to spite her face. Christendom, awake!
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