Pilgrimage 101. Seeking Saint Francis

Let's say I had my own notion of how, when, and where I would do God's work.

Let's say that, along with this idea, I knew the grade I'd be getting for my hard work.

Let's, for the time being, say that I knew - or would know - when my work would be celebrated.

Let's say I was dead wrong.

And just when success was close enough to smell, I realized that my definition of success - perhaps my understanding of the ENTIRE ASSIGNMENT - was completely off base...

I had neglected to listen to the simplest of instructions.

I should have held fast to the simplicity of the demands that the Light makes of me.

Instead, I constructed a much more complicated assignment (albeit one that took little real sacrifice.) I'd fashioned a tailor-made assignment, so exlusive that no one but me could complete it.

I had written an assignment that defined "arriving" by a road map that I could travel. And I'd mapped that road so specifically, that no one else could travel it.

The demands that the One makes of me and of everyone are far simpler than any I could have written:

- Empty yourself
- Love me more than everyone
- Let go of all your attachments
- Pray without ceasing

SO SIMPLE!

I am not asked to empty myself
of everything EXCEPT
old stuff
or organic stuff
or purple stuff.

I am asked, "Empty yourself [of ALL stuff]"

I am not commamded
to love God more than people across the street or across the globe.

I am created
to love God more than ANYONE or ANYTHING
to let go of everything
and to pray ALL of the time.

I love the simplicity of this.
I shudder, because I fail to come close to meeting this simple request.

But I am also unimpressed by theologies
and catecheses
and rule books
and rituals
that attempt to define (and make simpler) the HUGE demands that God places on creation.

"Instead of emptying oneself, one must:
(a) tithe
(b) fast
(c) give alms
and here is the magical formula for knowing how much is expected:
blah, blah, blah..."

NO!
There is no simple solution
for finishing this massive assignment...

"Did I put the sun
and the moon
and the stars in the sky?" God asks.

"How is it that you should believe that you know ME so well that you could define, for everyone, who I am or why I love you, or what I created you to be. All I ask for is your acceptance of my simple, unfenced, and unmetered request."

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I
(Laura)
came before God's throne.

No, that's not quite it.

I
(Laura)
was.
and then I realized that God was there with me.

I didn't make a first move,
I just happened to look up.

The brilliance of God's word,
The beauty of God's voice,
The breathtaking elegance of God's amile,
All presented to me
in one glorious second
as,
by chance,
my eyes happened to look up
and find God there.

"Don't move," I thought.

Don"t blink or breathe.

Just hold God's gaze forever.

For there, in that millisecond
existed every hope fulfilled
and every dream made true.

And yet,
so unfamiliar with the fire of love,
I hid my gaze
for fear of burning.
I withheld my faith
and wore instead:

a mask of self-loathing, calling it humility
a mask of self-destruction, calling it sacrifice
a mask of self-pity, calling it servanthood

The Light saw through it. Of course it did.

How could I fool myself into believing that
the One who painted the orange-pink-purple of sunset
the One who composed the flute-trumpet-tympani of a summer storm
and who created me
would fail to see my sadness
or hear my dispair.

What gifts would God give me to bring me comfort?

Peace, Joy, Love
to calm fears, to raise me out of sadness and to shower unconditional love on others.

What would God expect in return?

Everything.

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

If the church
(any church, not just the one you're frustrated with today)
sets forth innumerable and ridiculous
(and unachievable)
rules to lead us to God,
it is only because
the church desires to make our approach
a manageable, methodical process.

It isn't designed to exclude.
I have too much faith in the human heart to believe that.

But because this process is authored by a few
who share common hopes, dreams, sins, and failures,
the map drawn by the few in only useful to the few.

And the volume of voices shouting out directions
drowns out the simple instructions that God provides to everyone.

Man-made laws and rules,
man-defined sins and temptations,
man-created roads, paths, and walkways.
All of these contribute to NARROWING the gate to heaven.

These rules filter anyone different
from our version of faith.

By focusing only on the steps, the words, the icons,
the liturgy created by man,
we find ourselves taking our eyes away from God.

How could we every think God would want that?

If there ever was a crisis of my faith,
it was when I felt controlled
- shut out or fenced in -
by rules.

It would have been when the face of God on someone different
or on me
was hastened away for the greater good.

How could we have imagined this as Light?

YOU!
Priests!
Bishops!
You mighty leaders!

YOU faithful people!

How is it that you exclude
someone with just as many heartbeats and breaths
because they have not read the same scriptures,
or prayed the same prayers?

You frighten me when you do that.
You remind me of the times I felt excluded.

And you sactify my own judgement of others.

You reflect me and my exclusivity.

By banishing the brother who I don't approve of,
you allow me to do the same.

By banishing the sister I love so dearly,
you banish LOVE.

You make us
ALL of us
incomplete.

If we,
as people of God,
are to ever feel the warmth of God's hand in ours,
we must find courage to calmly hold the hand
of our most frightening brother.

If we, as people of God,
are to ever see the wisdom in God's face,
we must find the tolerance
to quietly listen to the most dischordant of words
spoken by our most unusual and hostile speakers.

If,
as people of the Light,
we are to ever taste the fullness of God's love for us,
we must raise our chalice
to the most dusty and dirty of souls.
We must bring our silver cup to their lips,
pour freely of the wine that God provides,
AND be unafraid
to drink
from the very same cup.

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Pilgrimage: (noun)
(1) a physical journey that mirrors and energizes my inner spiritual journey.

(2) a trip to the Canadian Rockies, a trip to find God, to question God, and to either join or say farewell to God.

(as in)

Where are You?
My friend suggests we need to talk,
but I've been
talking-crying-pleading
for a while now
and I don't hear Your reply.
Is the problem that my ears
(as well as my eyes and my heart)
are closed?
Should I look for You first?

Here, in the grandeur of these mountains
I can surely see You.
But, hearing only silence,
I ache even more.
Feeling only darkness and emptiness
I am even more lonely for You.

This pilgrimage, I come to realize,
is not to places AWAY from,
but instead to places TOWARD and WITHIN me.
It is not about moving
and searching
and plowing
through fields for a mustard seed of God.

This first pilgrimage is about waiting at the shore
for the tide that will inevitably come.

This pilgrimage is about opening my ears
for longer than the time it takes
for a honeybee to collect pollen from a flower.

My ears must remain open
to hear the seedling burst through the soil,
to hear the sprout throw off its heavy shell,
to hear the leaves unwrap themselves,
and unfold to the sunlight,
to hear the stem rise and thicken,
bracing itself for the weight of its own beauty,
to hear the bud grow and ripen and erupt
in anticipation of the honeybee.

And my heart must remain open even longer.

This pilgrimage is about stillness
and anticipation
in a time of seeming darkness.

(3) a visit to a hostel of peace among the Sisters of St. Joseph, to seek direction and purpose.
(as in)

I feel YOU present in these women of Peace!
How determined they are to speak,
sing,
dance,
work,
and SOAR on winds of peace
that You whistle, rustle, and blow their way.

I want to stay here!
I want to wrap this soft warm blanket of safety
around my shoulders, elbows, knees, and ankles,
closing my eyes and my mind to the grief
and sadness
and anger that threatens to push me so hard
that I fall over a cliff of rage.

Oh please Lord, give me rest here forever!

My feet are worn,
my back is crooked,
my arms are weary,
my hands tremble.

Give me my salary for the work
I have at least started,
and pass my burden on to someone else.
Allow me the space
and the peace
and the quiet
and the solitude
and the loneliness...

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There is a new pilgrimage awaiting me.

This time, I will need walking shoes.

The time of quiet self-reflection has revealed
important corners, cracks, and crevices in my faith
and to know where these are is critical to my preparation.

The wind no longer blows cold
through these gaps and holes.

In some cases,
where cracks are really just spaces
between who I am and who I want to be,
I have fashioned brightly colored flags.
When the wind weasles its way through
and would seek to knock my over,
the flags signal me to hold steady
and they trap the bone-chilling
gusts and blows.

In other cases,
where the crevices span gaps
between what others
(mentors and followers, enemies and friends)
would want me to be
and what I would try to accomodate,
I have planted gardens.
In so doing,
I not only acknowledge the spaces,
I celebrate them.

And so...

with the fruit of celebration in my pack,
and the anthem of waving flags,
I am ready to embark on a new pilgrimage,
perhaps under the watchful eye
of Saint Francis.

By my design,
cradled in my prayers,
this pilgrimage would be gentle on my body,
melodic to my heart,
and shared with a companion
whose soul is laced with mine.

If I were only a tourist on this journey,
a spiritual tourist, rather than a spiritual pilgrim,
I would pack EVERYTHING I might need
(just in case my destination couldn't offer me
everything I would want or need).
This would include food and water
both for my body and for my spirit.
This would include a pillow to help me rest,
and a blanket to keep me warm.
There wouldn't be ANYTHING in my pack.

But I don't desire to be just a tourist.

I YEARN to be a spiritual pilgrim.

This means that what I pack for my journey
is meant for those I meet.
Not for me.
I prepare to serve others,
rather than to be served by others.
I become an instrument of God's peace.
Chasing Francis.

I may end up with food, water, a pillow,
and a blanket in my pack.
Just as before.
But I embark on this adventure
looking for the hungry, thirsty, weary,
or cold one in need.

In the process,
I am ministered to
by those I serve.

I am filled in body and in spirit.
for anyone else.