The Pilgrim Girl - The Story of a Submission - 2
Christa was a little ashamed about her fantasies, but she could not help it. As she walked around barefoot in the church taking pictures, more movies were running in her head cinema. After taking several photographs of the crucifix, Christa placed the camera in a pew and made several selfies with the self-timer, as she stood barefoot in the church aisle. Then she put the camera away and stood again in front of the life-size crucifix.
She looked at it fascinated. She looked closely at the crucified body, the outstretched arms, the flat stomach, the knees slightly bent, the bare feet standing on a pedestal leaning down. The Jesus Corpus was naked except for a loincloth. Jesus was nailed through his hands and feet. Big nails were driven through his hands and through his feet standing side by side.
Christa shuddered. The sight of the nails in the hands and feet of the crucifix figures made her shiver every time. She thought it was scary. No, that was nothing for her! She did not want to be executed. She just wanted to be crucified, tied to the cross with ropes and then endure as long as possible on the cross. It was allowed to hurt. It would be painful over time, she knew that. That even pleased her. That was part of it. But no nails! No thanks! Please only ropes or maybe leather "handcuffs".
Christa dropped to her knees. She prayed silently. She was very absorbed in her actions. She did not perceive anything around her. She was Christa, the bare-footed girl. She had come to this church barefoot to pray. I am barefoot. I do not wear shoes. I took off my shoes. This is a gesture of reverence. This is a sign of my penitence. I am penitent. I would repent at any time for the sins of the world. I would really like to do that.
She lowered her head. I am humble, she thougt.
"Do you repent your sins in a prayer?"
Christa winced. She turned around. Behind her stood a tall nun. She had not heard the woman come into the church. The sister was about forty years old.
She smiled pleasantly and nodded in the direction of Christa's bare feet: "That there is such a thing today! I have not seen that for a long time. A girl who goes barefoot to church to pray. "
Christa did not know what to answer. She felt taken by surprise. She could only smile shyly. "Did you walked the old pilgrim path?" the nun asked. She looked at Christa's bare feet. "In the past, many did." She sighed. "Yes ... earlier ..." A wistful move played around the nun's lips. "Everything used to be different. There were people still faithful and penitent who came to the monastery church."
She looked at Christa, who had now risen. "Barefoot in a pilgrim has a special meaning, several meanings even. Removing his footwear is a gesture of piety and deference, but also of penitence and certainly a sign of humility. Also a sign of subservience. Those who go to church barefoot want to show that they had come to pray obediently and humbly and that they want to repent.
The nun looked at Christa very intensely: "Repent, for sins. Not only your own, but also the sins of the world. It's like that, young woman! Believe me!"
"I believe you," Christa said simply.
The nun smiled at her: "That's good. What's your name, my child?"
"Christa," Christa answered.
"I am sister Zita." She smiled even wider. "Named after the holy Zita of Lucca. Do you know her, my child?"
"Oh yes," Christa answered. "Zita was born in 1212 and when she was twelve, she came as a servant girl to the home of a wealthy family. She was modest and pious. She only wore simple clothes and always walked barefoot. She took care of the poor of the city and did a lot of good things for them."
"That's right," said the nun. "Zita was canonized in 1696, five years before our monastery was built. It was consecrated to her. Zita was the model of the sisters who moved into the monastery. They vowed to follow Jesus and repent for the sins of the world. They also did that regularly. Earlier ..."
Sister Zita looked wistful again. "Not so much today. Even the sisters hardly do it anymore. Certainly not the pilgrims."
She looked at Christa: "You would be willing to repent of humanity? How the Lord did it?" Christa nodded silently. She did not understand exactly what Sister Zita meant, but she was certainly humble and penitent. That's why she went to church.
Sister Zita made a gesture that encompassed the entire church space: "This is not the real church of yore. It was built in 1884. Previously the pilgrims prayed in the chapel of Zita. It lies farther back on the site behind a high wall and is no longer visited today. I have a key to the chapel. If you want, dear Christa, I can let you in there. Maybe you want to take a look at it?" The nun looked again at Christas bare feet.
"Yes, gladly," Christa said. "You are very friendly."
Sister Zita smiled at her. "To a girl like you, I have to be friendly. Come, Christa!" The nun turned and walked to the church portal. Christa followed her. She wondered why she did not hear the clack of shoes. Sister Zita seemed to float over the smooth floor. As the nun took a few steps, Christa saw why she was walking so quietly: Sister Zita was not wearing shoes. Naked feet flashed out from under the black nun's habit. Sister Zita was barefoot like Christa. The nun seemed to be walking on bare feet for some time, because the soles of her feet were dark, almost black.
The sister led Christa through the monastery park to the very back, far away, from the big monastery church. At the far end of the site was a massive wall at least four meters high. It looked like the wall of a medieval knight's castle, like something meant to withstand a raging army of battering rams. There was a small solid-wooden door in this wall, just big enough to let a person through.
The nun took out a keychain and unlocked the door. Behind it was a small yard and there stood an old small chapel with an extension. It was built directly on the wall of the monastery estate.
"This is the original Zita chapel," explained the sister. "Here a truly repentant person can repent for the sins of the world." She took an ancient key from the robe and unlocked the door of the chapel. With a gesture, she invited Christa to come in. The nun closed the door behind her. She peeked outside for a moment before closing the door. Then she put the key in the lock and locked it.
"So nobody bothers you," she said to Christa. "Of course I'll open the door on the spot if you wish. Please come." The nun walked between the rows of pews to the front wall of the small church. Her bare feet did not make the slightest noise on the smooth cool stone floor.
"There is a greater way to repent for the sins of the world," said the sister. "The first sisters who entered the newly-founded monastery went this way regularly." She led Christa to a large wooden cross lying horizontally on the floor. "This is the way," said Sister Zita.
Christa stared at the big cross. It was not lying on the ground, she realized. It lay on bricked pedestals at about knee height. At the back she saw an iron crank stick out. Sister Zita noticed her look.
"That's to raise the cross," she explained. "The crank operates an apparatus to set up and lower the cross." She stepped to the cross and ran her hand over the smooth wood: "Here you can truly repent and show real humility. By following the Lord and repenting for the sins of the world. Not only in prayer, but bodily on the cross." She looked at Christa. "Not everyone is pious enough to take it, but since you came barefoot, my child, I can imagine you might want to do it."