As a Pilgrim

On this first Sunday of Lent, marked with the sign of the cross, we join Jesus on his Spirit-led pilgrimage to the desert for forty days.  This day, and each of the Sundays of Lent mark waystations on our pilgrimage to Jerusalem, our walk with the Lord toward his lifegiving death and resurrection.  Each waystation, each milestone, gives the pilgrim an opportunity to reflect, to consult a map, to remember where we have come from and how far we have come, and to ask questions: Where am I?  What am I looking for?  Will I continue on this path?  Do I entrust myself to him who goes before me?

First, we remember.  As Fr. Jack Siberski, S.J., shared with us recently, memory is a quintessential characteristic of the human person.  Our memories constitute our identity, not just recall of facts or past experiences, but a sense of what has shaped us as persons, and as members of a people, God’s people.  Our memories are embodied, imprinted upon us through our senses of sight, hearing, taste, touch and smell.  Remembering makes this present viscerally in the here and now, nowhere more powerfully than in the liturgy of the Eucharist.

Where am I?  In the desert: a place rich in memory.  God called his people out of slavery, and led them into the desert, where he would speak to their hearts.  It was a long journey – forty years – and a difficult one, because their hearts were not with him.  He drew them to himself with bands of love through many trials designed to shape their hearts after his own.  Are you ready?

What am I looking for?  What did I go out into the desert to see?  Jesus goes into the desert seeking closer union with God, his Father.  He went to receive his mission, to understand his vocation, to open himself to the desire of the Father’s heart for his life.  And we join him there.  We withdraw from the marketplace, the cacophony of voices arguing about who is the greatest, to the place where one can hear a pin drop.  Do you hear it?  Do you perceive God working in your heart, shaping it?  How will you respond?

Will I continue on this path?  Can I keep going?  Do I have what it takes?  What am I afraid of?  The place where one can hear a pin drop is also a place of many voices.  We are not alone.  How can I tell if it is God speaking in my heart, or my own desires, or the evil one drawing me aside, even making use of the Word of God to do so?  We are afraid of being in this confusing place, of following the wrong path, of getting lost.  But memory comes to our aid.  We come to know whose voice it is that speaks in our hearts if we remember how our hearts have been moved, led, and shaped up to this point.  We distinguish the shepherd’s voice from that of the thief by the effect it has on us, on our whole embodied reality.  We know it by our response of faith, hope and love, of the desire to follow him wherever he goes.  And even if we should get lost and forget the sound of our Father’s voice, God does not forget us.

Do you believe?  Do you trust me?  Do you love me?  Will you follow me?  Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.  I trust you, do not let me be put to shame.  You know that I love you.  I take your Word into my mouth, and I devour it.  I do so in remembrance of all you have done, all those you delivered from affliction, toil, and oppression, all you have set free with your strong arm, especially your own Son, the Beloved, whom you brought forth from death into life.  I will follow you.

Today, we receive our Lenten books as a symbol of the Word of God, given to sustain us on our pilgrimage through the desert.


Image: Moses Leads the People to the Promised Land, by Lyuba Yatskiv