United Methodist Church Hyde Park, NY

 
THE JOURNEY
Galatians 1:11-24
 
 
What is the difference between a pilgrim and a tourist? Tourists take pictures. Pilgrims may also, but they go farther: they sit and meditate, some kneel in prayer, some light candles. I went on a journey. It wasn’t a vacation, although there were a couple of days spent sightseeing and dining in Paris. I went to be in the town of Chartres, about an hour southwest of Paris, for a five-day program on the spiritual practice of labyrinth walking. While I was there, I had two extraordinary and unexpected experiences that did, indeed, renew my spirit and stir my soul. And I realized that I had actually been on a pilgrimage and found what my heart was searching for.
 
On Pentecost Monday, the day after Pentecost and a national holiday in France, I stood by the Chartres Cathedral where thousands of people – most of them young -- were gathered, inside and out, flags indicating the towns from which they had come. They were participating in a pilgrimage on foot from the Notre Dame Cathedral of Paris to the Notre Dame Cathedral of Chartres. The opening speeches of priests and officials inside were brought to us outside on a large screen and loudspeakers. The closing mass began with hundreds of priests and a bishop, dressed in many different kinds and colors of liturgical robes, processing through the street that wound around the cathedral and through the crowd. It was inspiring to be part of such an expression of faith and to feel the energy and joy of so many Christians.
 
The second experience was the private, after-hours candlelight labyrinth walk in the cathedral just for the 35 of us in the program. We met in silence outside the north portal crypt door. At the appointed hour, the old wooden door swung open and we followed a path lit by a thousand votive candles. Down stone steps we walked, along a long corridor, and into the Mary Chapel, the central part of the old Romanesque church, where we prepared ourselves for the labyrinth walk in silent meditation. When ready, each person followed the candlelit path past the altar, down another long hallway to a burning bowl, set upon the ancient baptismal font, where we burned the papers on which we had written that which we longed to be changed or set free within us. Then with hearts and minds open to whatever God would say to us, we walked up the south flight of stone stairs into the nave of the cathedral and stepped into the labyrinth. As musicians played and sang medieval and modern songs of the soul’s deepest desires, we walked the path to the center of the circle, stayed there a while, and then walked back. After our walk, we watched as others did theirs – some weeping, some smiling, some stumbling, some dancing, all focused on gaining insight into their souls and deepening their relationship with God.
 
It was rich spiritual experience, which I can’t possibly describe in any way that would let you experience it too. That’s the thing about experience: it’s something you have to do yourself. I learned some things that I can share, however.
 
 
 
 
Factually speaking, the Chartres labyrinth was laid into the cathedral floor sometime between 1194 and 1220. It is one of the original labyrinths from the Middle Ages, probably the third to be completed, and one of the few that remains intact. It is not a maze; there is only one winding, circular path which leads to the center and back out.
The path of the labyrinth is called the road to Jerusalem – and the center of the labyrinth, the New Jerusalem. The labyrinth is a microcosm of the journey of life.
 
Spiritually speaking, one thing I can share is that it is important to discover a good spiritual practice that will lead to self-knowledge and knowledge of God. Another is how much we need a sense of the holy and spiritual nurturance. And yet another is that so many don’t even realize that our modern rational approach to life has left our souls hungry, or what we can do to nourish them.
 
The truth is, even if we never make a pilgrimage, we are all on a spiritual journey. Our scriptures are in great measure literal and metaphorical journey narratives: the exile out of Eden, Abraham’s journey from Haran to the promised land, Jacob’s sojourn with Laban and return, Joseph’s forced descent into Egypt, the Exodus, the wandering prophets, the Babylonian exile, and the Diaspora. All these literal and geographical journeys are emblem for the people of Israel’s journey of faith in response to God’s call, their journey with God, and their journey toward God.
 
In the New Testament, Jesus is the quintessential traveling preacher. The gospel accounts describe his ministry as one that is almost constantly on the road. More than a few of Jesus’ parables are stories about journeys, most famously the prodigal son and the good Samaritan.
 
The book of Acts is nothing less than an apostolic travelogue. Paul, even by today’s standards, would be considered an extraordinarily well-traveled man. In Paul’s case, not only did his conversion mark the beginning of a spiritual journey, but a spiritual journey linked to a geographical peregrination as well. He’d hardly recovered his sight in Damascus following his blinding conversion when he had to flee town from his former friends who now wanted to kill him. According to the Galatians text, he was on the run for the next 15 years, not necessarily from his enemies but for one reason or another. In fact, Paul wasn’t one for staying put. And we shouldn’t be, either.
 
One of the central faith-developing disciplines of medieval Christianity was the pilgrimage, devotional tourism to great pilgrimage centers like Canterbury, Rome, Santiago de Compostela, Chartres, and for some years, Jerusalem itself. In our day, the medieval pilgrimage has been reborn in the Holy Land tour and the church mission trip, less demanding than walking the breadth of Europe to be sure, but, as many bear witness, powerful faith-forming experiences for modern Christians.
 
The experience of journey – modest and occasional or far-flung and frequent – is nearly ubiquitous for human beings. Even the most stalwart homebodies do travel, if only to the corner store. And even stay-at-homes imagine journeys. They read about them; they watch them on television or in films; they hear others tell the stories of their sojourns. Few potential metaphors are more concrete, accessible, and deeply rooted in human experience.
In many ways, religious experience really is like going on a trip. First, like a journey, faith is not sedentary; rather it moves toward a destination, an end: more faithful discipleship, closer relationship with Christ, union with God. Second, the journey metaphor for faith suggests that there is no final arrival in this life. Faith is always an ongoing journey; one never arrives at perfect faithfulness in discipleship, much less full oneness in relationship to Christ, perfect union with God. There is always a ways yet to go. We are all on our way, some farther along to be sure, but none, this side of death, having arrived. Third, people are called to faith just as they are invited to travel. As in real journeys, they often follow a leader on the way and enjoy the companionship of fellow faith travelers.
 
Some of us, like the confirmands, are just beginning our own personal faith journey. Others of us have been journeying for many years. Some of us make pilgrimages to holy places; others of us associate places in time and space where we “saw the light” or had an “aha” encounter with God. whatever you do as you journey through life, be a pilgrim: seek out insight, answers to challenging life questions, self-understanding, communion with Christ, knowledge of God. Wherever you are on the path of life, may you keep journeying toward the sacred, deepening your connection with the holy, moving ever forward toward God, whose love calls us on and sustains us all the journey long.