Signposts On The Way

I recently returned from an eleven-day spiritual pilgrimage through Galicia, Spain.  Five of my religious sisters and I walked the Way of Saint James along the western coast of the Iberian Peninsula.   As I reflect on our experience, I realize that this was the only time in my life that I have totally depended on signposts - in the form of yellow arrows and/or the iconic Camino shells - to get to a destination.  Sure, I have been on many routes where signs were welcome and helpful, but I have never felt completely reliant on them.  On our walking retreat, we had no internet access, no GPS and no maps.  We relied solely on these signposts to lead us through hills, mountains, beaches, forests and rural streets and keep us on the path to the tomb of St. James, the apostle.  These signs, placed by countless others on The Way before us, were sometimes obvious (bright blue and yellow ceramic tiles on concrete).  However, most of the time, they were quite subtle:  a little wooden arrow nailed to a tree in the midst of a forest, a shell on someone’s front door through a rural alley, or yellow spray painted arrows on rocks, tree stumps or pavement.
 
Two things stand out as I continue to assimilate the experience.  First, from the beginning, the signposts not only guided us, but they also gave us a real sense of security.   We placed our trust on them, thus unconsciously placing full confidence on those who came before us.   By following the arrows and shells, we became part of a larger community of fellow pilgrims that throughout several centuries paved the way for our own journey.  Second, if we had not seen the signs, they would have been useless.  From the beginning of our walk, we had to remain alert and vigilant every step of the way.  Missing a roadside marker meant losing our way. This might not mean we would not have made it, but it would have made our journey longer and more difficult.  We completed our journey because we consciously put our faith on a much wider community AND because we remained vigilant and alert. 

As Catholic Christians, we have received a tradition of over 2,000 years of signposts in the form of theological conclusions, sacraments, rituals and many other signs and symbols meant to guide us on the journey of Life in, with and through Christ.  As we each begin our Life pilgrimage, both the path and the destination are unknown and it is a blessing to have these markers.  Nevertheless, in reality, they become irrelevant if we do not remain fully awake on the journey.  Remaining alert and attentive, virtues acquired through practices of silence (contemplative prayer) and self-observation, are non-negotiables on the journey of faith.   I confirmed during our pilgrimage that every journey is both uniquely personal and simultaneously and “mysteriously” communal.   It seems obvious to me that our vocation is not to simply “believe” in the Trinitarian God revealed by the Christ, but to BE, throughout our journey, image and likeness of this God who is always ONE and MANY.  Perhaps this week is a good time for two things: 1) consciously give thanks for being part of a wider community and 2) seek ways to practice remaining alert and attentive to the subtle signposts given to us by the God who “so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life” (John 3:16).