Pilgrimage
Arguably, the pilgrimage is the most fascinating experiment in a novice’s life. One week after returning to the Novitiate, a novice decides on a starting location and is given $35 in cash and a one-way bus ticket. He can take whatever he wants to carry with him, but he is to survive for 30 days homeless. The experiment is intended to help the novice develop his dependence on God, to grow in compassion, and to engage in spiritual conversations.
My pilgrimage started in Atlanta, Georgia and transitioned to Birmingham, Alabama, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and Des Moines and Dubuque in Iowa before I returned to St. Paul. The locations and miles covered are not as important as the growth that developed. I had thought I wanted to experience life as a minority, but God had other plans for me.
I primarily stayed with a number religious people. In Birmingham, I stayed with a group of Franciscan brothers and priests. They were good and welcoming people, but I could sense that their spirituality was one where I had to be somewhat on my guard. Their focus was on a more traditional living of poverty and obedience and in appealing to one particular audience. I needed to have the opportunity to dialogue with people outside of my own tradition.
While I was there, I met a Jesuit who took me on a fishing retreat in the southernmost tip of Louisiana. I felt out of place, being the youngest person there by nearly 30 years, but the men took care of me and encouraged me to keep trying while fishing with them. I even managed to catch two fish. Not bad for a guy without a home to call his own.
One of the men there took me into his home in Baton Rouge and helped me to find some work with the Missionaries of Charity (the order founded by Mother Teresa) for a few days. However, I could tell that I was too comfortable physically, with my own bed and room, having nothing to do in the afternoons. Moreover, in that part of town, it seemed that the pious Catholics revered young seminarians like myself. I felt far too uncomfortable there and shortly found my way on a bus headed to Des Moines.
On Mother’s Day, I walked into the Cathedral of St. Ambrose and asked the priest if there was anything he could do to help me. Before day’s end, he had taken me in, giving me the chance to see what the life of a Diocesan priest was like. It had a simple order to it and a familiarity with the community that I know will be more difficult for me as a Jesuit. Still, it did not feel right for me.
A few days later, the priest helped me get to a monastery of Trappist monks in Dubuque. After explaining who I was, they let me stay with them for a few days. Their life of prayer and silence is beautiful and entrancing. The monks gather together to pray seven times a day, eight if you include daily Mass. There is a very regular schedule to their lives, both working and praying, generally living a life of silence.
Though I may be an introvert, their life was too inward-focused for me and I found that I could not remain silent or find my fulfilment in the handful of hours of manual labor each day. I needed something more, because my soul was restless. I had too much time and things were far too quiet.
After some days with the monks, they offered me a ride into Dubuque and set me up with a bus ticket that would get me back to St. Paul. As I rode the bus one last time, I could not help but feel that God had blessed me with encounters with many good people. Reflecting back on the experience, I feel that it gave me a sense of the variety of ways people live out their Catholicism and also an appreciation for my decision to be a Jesuit.
