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October 19, 2020“Pilgrimage is a symbol of life. It makes us imagine that life is about walking, it is a walk. Should a person not walk, and stand still, he is not of service, she does nothing.”
— Pope Francis
Audio Message to 37th Walking Pilgrims from Macareta to Loreto (6 June, 2015)
There are few things in life that offer such a lucid picture of the spiritual life as a pilgrimage. To clarify, by “pilgrimage” I do not here refer to the more general tourism of holy sites—noble and spiritually edifying as such ventures may be. I mean, rather, those specially arduous treks which have a spirit of penance at their heart and a singular holy site as their end. Much like our spiritual lives, a pilgrimage of this sort demands everything from us—and in ways that I became severely acquainted with over the course of a few days.
I had the tremendous honor of participating in the “ Three Hearts Pilgrimage,” put together by the small St. John Bosco Institute in Edmond, OK. I was joined by over 500 participants as we legged the 35-mile journey from Tahlequah to Clear Creek Monastery. After breaking down our initial camp, we offered up our soon-to-be sufferings to God and began our march.
As in the spiritual life, at first our journey was lively. Many people sang, chanted, and had engaged each other in conversation. Rosaries were prayed, and I even had the privilege of joining my hiking companion for Lauds. The journey had its ups and downs, but when we stopped for a noontime Mass, many of us were still energetic.
The second leg of our journey quickly became far more arduous. The pavement gave way to gravel, songs were sung less fervently and interrupted by gasps for breath, and our long-aching legs began to falter. At this point, grumblings took the place of prayers and edifying conversation. Even the organizers began to tempt us, driving up in their cars to offer us a ride to the next break location.
But there are no “shortcuts” to heaven, so—in the spirit of allegorizing my experience—I was determined to press on.
I found myself lagging far behind the rest of the group, just as I find in my own spiritual life. Often I would fall so far behind that the moment I arrived at a rest point, the organizers would say our time was up and began corralling us back into our groups. At one point, I became so discouraged that I had even determined to give up the journey entirely, just so I could nurse my miserable legs. Still, some deep-seated and unseen force of will kept me going.
Arriving at the campsite after the first day was encouraging, but I was still uncertain if I would complete the journey. Somehow (miraculously, I thought), I awoke with a fresh spirit and the fortitude to continue. I decided to follow the advice of the author of the Letter to the Hebrews and “cast aside every weight” (Heb. 12:1); I left my bag behind so it would not hinder me on the road ahead. This morning, we again prayed the Rosary, but now with a renewed zeal. I engaged my neighbors in conversation; we encouraged one another to press on. I felt exhausted, yet somehow lighter—as though borne on the wings of angels.
After lunch, we began our final leg to the monastery, and arguably on the most difficult terrain we’d encountered. Yet somehow, as I began down that gravel road, I felt different. A fresh strength surged through my body, and I made my way up the longest hill of our journey with ease. As the gates to the monastery opened, and we began to process silently on the last stretch of our journey, I began to grow excited. My journey was nearing its end, and I felt a sense of solidarity with all those around me who had made the journey. Upon reaching that grand portal, we began singing the Salve Regina, eagerly filing into that massive sanctuary.
I looked around. These were my fellow travelers. There I saw all those who had arrived before me, as well as all those who came after me—all of us, gathered together to celebrate that Eternal Feast which awaits all of us. Isn’t this the perfect allegory of heaven? That I, a weary traveler, would after my long journey be presented with the company of all those who have finished the journey into eternity with me…the idea of heaven became eerily palpable to me in that moment.
Yet there was one element of this pilgrimage which was not merely allegorical. After all our toil, sacrificing every ounce of our strength and will-power to have simply arrived, what was our reward? None other than that most precious of all rewards—the body, blood, soul and divinity of Our Lord, Jesus Christ: the Eucharist.
Nourishment of nourishments, and Rest of rests! Most supremely fitting it is that the reward of such a pilgrimage is the very same Reward which we hope to receive at the end of our lives. And what better reward could there be?
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”
— Hebrews 12:1-2
Eli Stone
Eli Stone is a research assistant for the Alcuin Institute for Catholic Culture.