Pilgrimage (part 2) …

Yesterday Chris and I visited a place named Fátima in central Portugal. You gotta figure that the town of Fátima has been around for at least a thousand years, since it’s named after the prophet Muhammad’s daughter, and Muslims were massacred and driven out of Portugal (after being in charge for about 500 years) in 1249 AD.

In 1917 though, three kids were tending sheep on the outskirts of Fátima and according to the kids, an angel appeared to them and told them three secrets. Two of the secrets are known to us now, and the third is being kept by the Vatican — which declared the 1917 occurrence an official miracle in 1930. Check Wikipedia if you’re interested.

Fátima is now a bustling commercial hub. Full of hotels, tour busses, and earnest pilgrims.

There is a monument here that seems as big as the Vatican in Rome, to me … but Christine says it’s not that big. Over a thousand vendors are selling religious-themed trinkets and souvenirs. Not unlike Jerusalem. I suppose someone has licensing rights.

One of the odder things for sale here are plastic hands and feet. Chris said “I wonder why they do that?” and I said something like, “Hey, this is religion, don’t expect any logic.” As I said those, sadly-kind-of-cynical-words, I looked around at the sincere beautiful people in the crowd. People who are undoubtedly just wanting to do something good. I couldn’t help thinking, “Why do we have to tell ourselves these stories, in order to be good?”

There’s a miracle happening every moment. (i.e. we found a parking spot in the shade when we pulled into Fatima!) … nobody has the licensing rights to those miracles!

Happy Sunday! — with Christine Phillips in Fátima, Portugal; written at Lisboa, Portugal; 15 June 2014