Gethin experiences a spiritual journey in Wales

Pilgrimage is back and it’s cool. For the past few months, as I’ve toyed with the idea, I’ve heard the same thing repeated time after time. ‘There’s this great series on BBC, called Pilgrimage, have you seen it’? I must confess that I haven’t but will correct this omission (I am still working on this).

By way of clarification, Pilgrimage is a BBC Two series that has aired for six series since 2018. It brings together a group of ‘celebrities,’ and they share a common journey to a place of Christian significance. They are people of all faiths and none, journeying thus far to Santiago de Compostela (2018), Rome (2019), Istanbul (2020), Scottish Isles (2022), Portugal (2023) and North Wales (2024). Having watched the earlier series, the programme focuses on the relationships between the pilgrims as they walk together and navigate their views about God.

Christianity, like Judaism, is a pilgrim faith. Abram left Haran for Canaan land and the people of Israel wandered around the wilderness for forty years. Passover, Pentecost and tabernacles were all major festivals and dispersed Jews gathered to Jerusalem each year. After the resurrection of Jesus, people soon began to make their pilgrimage to Jerusalem in search of the empty tomb. As the years and centuries passed, pilgrimage became a global industry, directing pilgrims to holy places, relics of saints and shrines associated with manifestation of the Virgin Mary.

A personal journey

The pilgrimage I eventually undertook was much more modest and local. I followed the historic route from Llandaff Cathedral on the outskirts of Cardiff to the Shrine of our Lady in Penrhys in the Rhondda Valley. By foot, this is a one-way journey of around 21 miles. It is part of the Cistercian Way, which covers the whole of Wales. The Cistercian order had a presence in Wales as far back as the 12th century, building monasteries, abbeys and religious houses.

The shrine in Penrhys dates back to this original period, and pilgrims visited a small chapel and nearby spring to pray for healing. During the reign of Henry VIII, the shrine and buildings were destroyed as part of his campaign to separate from Rome and establish an English church. Henry’s ruthless campaign, supervised by the cunning Thomas Cromwell, was implemented across the UK. But, despite these interventions, people continued to make their secret pilgrimages to Penrhys and beyond.

But what is my business on such a journey? My spiritual formation has taken place within the Protestant tradition, one which is deeply sceptical of superstition, however holy it may appear. The tribe into which I was born, Baptist, prides itself on a commitment to knowing the word of God, scornful of images, statues and relics. So what on earth am I thinking?

I can only say that my experience of Christ has taken me in many different directions. The spiritual wells of Catholicism, Orthodoxy and Anglicanism are now a vital part of my faith and I rejoice in the rich diversity of the world Church. That’s why I’m on this pilgrimage, following in the footsteps of thousands of others across the centuries.

As I start on my journey towards the ancient cathedral in Llandaff, I have a piece of scripture buzzing in my head, a kind of word worm:

This is a psalm of pilgrimage, I can hear the travellers smacking their lips in expectation of what’s ahead of them. It’s going to be a long journey, dangerous in places, but they’re up for it. However the lines that are on repeat in my mind are these:

These words have emotional impact. The valley of Baka is an arid, waterless valley, associated with bitter weeping. I’ve had my fair share of tears this year and I’m hoping that this pilgrimage will be transformative in some way.

Not in my comfort zone

I begin at the Lady Chapel in the cathedral, part of the building that dates to the 13th century. And from there I begin my journey. Now here’s the thing, here’s my takeaway. As I walk the first part of the journey, through familiar suburbs, I am frequently disoriented. I am taken through woods, fields and roads I have never been on before. I feel oddly dislocated in my home patch. I am a pilgrim and I am not in control.

After 10 miles of walking, I realise I have made a major error. I have been using my phone to access the app and my battery is now drained. So I take the next leg of journey by bus, travelling to the village of Tylorstown in the Rhondda. I have no communication with my world, and this again adds to my feelings of strangeness. This is becoming a very interior experience. No app, no podcast, only the silence of my mind. I am also aware that I have been poorly prepared for this journey, a pattern not unfamiliar to me. Next time I need to be more on top of things.

From Tylorstown, I climb the hill towards Penrhys. And it’s a steep climb. Not a gentle rise but a slog on a hot day. For context, Penrhys mountain is a giant slab of rock that divides the two valleys of Rhondda Fawr and Rhondda Fach. At the summit, a right turn will take you to a housing estate which has had its social problems for decades. To the left, on the peak, is the historic shrine. I turn left.

Lady Chapel, Llandaff.

I am immediately struck by the enormous statue that dominates the skyline. The Lady of Penrhys was rebuilt in 1953, modelled on the original memorial as described in mediaeval poems. Holding the baby Jesus in her arms she gazes impassively at the valley below.

And it’s a spectacular view. This side of Penrhys mountain seems to slice down hundreds of feet to the communities of Tonypandy, Ystrad and Llwynypia. Again I feel the solitariness of my presence and the strangeness of this place. People have met God here on this slab of rock for the best part of a thousand years.

As I turn to leave for home, a musical memory surfaces and I hum along. It’s taken from John Bunyan’s hymn To Be a Pilgrim and originally part of the Pilgrim’s Progress. The words were extensively reworked by Percy Dearmer in 1906 and put to music by Ralph Vaughan Williams for The English Hymnal. Here is the stanza that I half sing, half mumble as I make my descent:

As I look back on this pilgrimage, what remains? It gave me time to immerse myself in a strange new world of silence and prayer. I found God in the whisperings of the natural world and the holiness of ordinary moments. And in feeling like an outsider in a familiar area, I was aware of the Spirit’s presence in a new way. I am a pilgrim on a journey.