The Expecting

I dare say I am familiar with the heat greeting the entrants to the outer circle of hell. Does this familiarity ensure a better stay for me in the inner circle? I doubt it. I deem myself experienced in the terrain of the valley of death. Does this mean I am fearless at the idea of the Dolorosa? Heavens, no! I have heard the deafening silence in the wind that shook the mountain and shattered the rocks. Does this equip me with the virtue to be able to listen in the breeze? I don't know. But then, what do I know? All I know is that hundreds of thousands of faithful over the centuries, dared the summer’s heat, trod the undulating path and suffered a myriad of discomforts to get to a church in a small town in northern Spain. All I know is that the bones of a man lay in the crypt of that great cathedral. And all I know is that on that journey to embrace the bejewelled statue of this man, the faithful went expecting. 'What are you expecting?', we were asked on day zero, in an i...