 |
Delivered at the monthly meeting of the Order of Malta
San Francisco, CA, 1 November 2004
By Eric Hollas, OSB
 Download (61kb PDF)
Pilgrimage has been an important practice in the spiritual life probably since the dawn of human civilization, and Catholic practice has many historic parallels in other religious traditions. In enunciating the five pillars of Islam, Muhammad stipulated that Muslims should strive to go on pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in their lifetime. Hindus have traveled to bathe in the sacred waters of the Ganges River. And seekers in modern times continue the long tradition of searching out mountain-top gurus in the Himalyas.
Ancient Judaism had its holy travelers as well, and people in Old Testament times made pilgrimage to the high places to offer sacrifice and to pray. By the first century it was common practice for Jews "from all over the world" to gather for Passover in Jerusalem, and Jesus and his disciples reenacted this journey up to the Holy City for his last supper.
It is not surprising, then, that early Christians should inherit and adopt this reverence for holy journeys, and by the fourth century Christians had beaten well-worn paths to the holy places associated with Jesus and the Bible. Likely the most famous early pilgrim was Helen, the mother of the Emperor Constantine, whose trip to Jerusalem led to the discovery of what was believed to be the true cross. An even more powerful influence was Egeria, a fifth-century woman from Spain who blazed the pilgrimage trail through Egypt to Jerusalem. To her we owe the most detailed account of how early Christians celebrated the Easter liturgy in Jerusalem. We are also indebted to her for a demonstration of great credulity, and the Egyptian monks who trotted out the burning bush and a host of other relics discovered a new livelihood in the gullibility of the western pilgrim. But most of all, to Egeria we owe a narrative that inspired many thousands of western Christians to follow in her footsteps. If she could do it, so could they, they must have reasoned.
And so from these early seeds grew the Christian penchant for the spiritual journey, and with it came not only the great destinations of Rome, Jerusalem and Santiago, but lesser shrines that dotted the landscape of Europe. This in turn gave rise to the hospitality to travelers which became a primary mission of monasteries, and service to pilgrims became a key part of the special ministry of the Church.
Having said that, it is very important to appreciate how difficult an undertaking these pilgrimages could be. Depending on the destination, trips could be long and perilous, and in the absence of decent roads one had to work to arrive at even nearby shrines. It took months of dedication to travel from France to Jerusalem, for example, and inconvenience, suffering, disease and even death were part of the experience. As the middle ages wore on, pilgrims to the Holy Land had to run a gauntlet of thieves and bandits in western Europe, only to encounter often hostile Muslims and pirates as they neared their destination. But pilgrims didn't have to go to Jerusalem to die, as the experience at a shrine like Santiago in Spain attests. There, frequent fights between nationalities within the shrine itself led to bloodshed, and the shrine would have to close until someone could come along and re-purify the desecrated holy space.
But despite the dangers and the obvious cost involved, people still went on pilgrimage in vast numbers, and that inevitably poses the question "why?" Why would sensible people risk so much, especially when there seemed to be no evident material reward? That is perhaps the most difficult question for anyone steeped in our consumer culture to comprehend. But if you have been on a pilgrimage yourself, including the pilgrimage to Lourdes, you can appreciate the spirit of the medieval pilgrim. If you've endured even the minor inconvenience of the modern journey to most religious destinations, you know that the excitement of arrival quickly makes you forget the inconvenience of the road and the airport. And so you might be able to appreciate a little of what motivated earlier Christians to undertake their much more arduous treks.
First of all, it's important to realize that in the Christian tradition people have gone on pilgrimage for the noblest and worst of reasons. They've gone in quest of the spiritual experience of the Holy. They've hoped for spiritual healing. They've sought escape from mundane life in order to savor the awesome rush of standing where Jesus stood or praying at the tomb of an apostle or a venerated holy woman. They've also gone on pilgrimage as atonement for a very serious sin or as part of a penance imposed during confession. Irish monks were known to embrace permanent wandering as a form of ascetic renunciation. Others sought escape from the authoritative grip of their local priest by confessing anonymously to a priest at a distant shrine. Still others implored physical healing in an age in which western medicine as often as not offered suffering rather than comfort. These lead the roster of positive motivations for going on pilgrimage.
But we know from human experience (and from narratives like The Canterbury Tales) that people went for less than spiritual reasons. Some were motivated by a sense of curiosity and adventure. The great shrines were a far cry from the village farms, and people have always wanted to see the big cities - even in the eighth century. Others viewed it as a form of vacation, but the hardships of travel often convinced them otherwise fairly quickly. And for criminals and those who could not fit into the local social structure, pilgrimage offered an easy way to disappear and begin again in a totally new environment.
It may seem an idle curiosity to touch on the heritage of pilgrimage in the life of the Church, but in fact pilgrimage is at the heart of the Order of Malta. The Order had its very foundation in Jerusalem for the purpose of ministering to pilgrims who got sick on the journey. And Blessed Gerard no doubt met most of the pilgrims who came to town because sooner or later most needed his service. But the important point to remember is that then as now the care of the sick - and especially the care of sick pilgrims - is paramount to the mission of the Order of Malta.
This has to have implications for your own life as members of the Order, because the cross of Malta that you wear is not an honor but a reminder of an obligation. It is a reminder that on our pilgrimage to Lourdes the care of the sick is of primary importance and all else is secondary. It is a reminder that service to the people at Saint Anne's is yet another opportunity to exercise your special ministry. But since we go to Lourdes at most once a year, and since we don't spend every day at Saint Anne's, we should remember yet another dimension of our service. For it is true to say that all our fellow Christians are pilgrims, and service them in the journey of life is at the core of your call. It means that insensitivity to others is not an option for you. Sensitivity to the needs of our fellow pilgrims is the only option we have as members of the Order of Malta.
But in our service to fellow pilgrims we can easily lose sight of one important point, and it is that you are a pilgrim as well. As pilgrims have sought God for centuries, so you as a pilgrim seek God; and this is at the heart of what it means to be part of the living body of Christ, which is the Church. You are on a journey seeking God, and you have to notice that you are on that journey with fellow pilgrims. Like them, you as a pilgrim are a guest. You have been a guest in Lourdes; but each day you are a guest in God's Church; and each day of the life God has given you, you are a guest in the world. As a guest you must often and regularly open yourselves to others. As a guest you must open yourself to change and growth. As a guest you must open yourself to God and to the nourishment you need for the journey - the nourishment God gives in the sacraments. And you must realize that you are not the same because of the journey. The journey to Jerusalem and the journey to God change you.
As Catholics we are radically incarnational people, and we say so in the Nicene Creed each Sunday. And as incarnational people we seek God in the world He has created. Better still, we find God in this world through a life-long journey as a pilgrim. We find God in the sick, in the stranger, in the orphan, in each other, in our worship and prayer together, and most remarkably of all, we find God deep within ourselves. May we never get tired of the journey!
return
to top
|
|
