I read this book when it first came out, back in 2003. It was a Rowdy Reader (my reading group) pick. In the Introduction, Mahoney describes a Greek Orthodox pilgrimage she’d witnessed on the island of Tinos, during the Feast of the Assumption, the day the church celebrates the assumption of the Blessed Virgin. The object of veneration was an icon of the Virgin. Pilgrims travel from all over to visit a church on top of a small hill, walking in the hot sun, carrying back packs, candles, and praying for miracles. Mahoney wasn’t taking part in the pilgrimage, just observing, and because of that she’s able to describe the scene in vivid detail. It’s a tableau of the half-mile trek along marble paving stones.

On describing the event to a friend, the friend’s response caused Mahoney to question her own response–which was astonishment and being somewhat impressed by the faith and devotion shown by the hundreds of walkers. She found her bible tucked away in her old college trunk and noticed this passage from Matthew was underlined: “Take no gold, nor silver, nor copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, nor two tunics, nor sandals, nor a staff; for the laborer deserves his food …” She didn’t think that command was realistic when she underlined it years earlier, and still wondered how anyone could go out into the world without food, change of clothing, money, and live off the generosity of strangers.

And so, she decided to find out. With honesty, self-deprecating humor, and deep insight Mahoney writes of her travels after embarking on six sacred journeys: visiting an Anglican shrine to Saint Mary in Walsingham, England; walking the 500 mile El Camino de Santiago in northern Spain; braving the icy bathwater at Lourdes; rowing alone across the Sea of Galilee to spend a night camped below the Golden Heights; viewing Varanasi, India’s holiest city, from a rubber raft on the Ganges; soldiering barefoot through the three-day penitential Catholic pilgrimage on Ireland’s Station.

The Singular Pilgrim is not written like a religious text or theological dissertation. In Mahoney’s masterful hand, the reader is taken along through a spiritual travelogue meeting the pilgrims, observing centuries-old rituals, and learning about cultures–both sacred and non. In Walsingham she spends an evening in a British pub befriended by some British teachers who want to know how they can explain and celebrate the Fourth of July with their 4-year-old students. The fact the holiday is celebrated in America as the day we gained independence from England didn’t seem to matter. In Walsingham Mahoney also reflects on her own spiritual upbringing in the Catholic church, and that thread continues through her introductions to Hinduism and other practices.

In Lourdes, it’s the exchange between the author and a developmentally disabled girl, Carla, she shares a bench with that provide the humor and insights while waiting to enter the baths. Upon leaving the waters, Mahoney experiences a simple, unexpected but welcome change.

El Camino de Santago has been a pilgrimage for centuries, following the path of St. James the Greater. On the first pages of this section during a downpour, Mahoney finds the real challenge in Jesus’ command of taking nothing with you, and learns the spirituality of ‘the Camino provides.’  

The characters, scenery, and the author’s introspection make Singular Pilgrim an enjoyable read, but also leads the reader to their own reflections. Pilgrimages don’t have to be movement from one physical place to another; as Mahoney finds, pilgrimage is also the movement internally.

While reading the book I felt a deep calling to make my own pilgrimage on El Camino. As my friend Mary Alice agreed, this is a calling, which is different than a bucket list. A bucket list is something that comes from inside–desire to see the Hockey Hall of Fame, visit all major league baseball fields, visit the homes of favorite poets and authors. A calling comes from ‘Other’.

And so, after 21 years, I went.

If all has gone well and as planned–including my writers window opening each Monday–by the time you read this, I’ll be touching down back home from my 450 mile ‘little hike’ from Pamplona to Compostella Spain. Stop by next Monday to see if it did. Until then have a great week. I’ll be resting with my feet up.