Onward, Pilgrim!

On the first Friday of August, six-hundred youth along with dozens of priests, seminarians, religious, and missionaries set out on a journey. After the celebration of Holy Mass in the plaza of Tingo de Ponasa, the group began the 15-mile walk toward the church of Santa María de Soterraño in Shamboyacu, where we would arrive the following afternoon.

This journey to a sacred place is known as a pilgrimage. And while I've been on pilgrimages before, I've never walked so far to arrive at my destination. This two-day journey led me to reflect more on how the pilgrimage reflects the Christian life.

During the Mass celebrated together, the priests encouraged us to offer the pilgrimage for a specific intention. They reminded us that the pilgrimage would be penitential. It would be difficult, but we were called to persevere.

Opening Mass in the plaza of Tingo de Ponasa

The first difficulty we encountered was that we were supposed to pack lunch for ourselves, but no one from our group had. Thankfully we were able to buy juanes inexpensively from a vendor in the plaza and feed our youth group. After we were finally fed and had a session of catechesis in our small group, we began the walk with enthusiasm. We were divided into groups for the journey, and each group was blessed with a generous quantity of holy water as we passed by the priest on our way out of town.

We began the trek prayerfully, reciting the rosary and singing. The sun was beating strong upon us, and we were grateful for the water stops along the way. After a few hours, feet begin to ache, and everyone wondered how close we are to the stopping point (which would happily include bathing and dinner). It was a joy to see the sign for "Leoncio Prado" and know that our destination for that night was near.

That evening we had a beautiful hour of Adoration under the stars. A lovely altar had been set up on the basketball court of a local school building. I was playing my violin alongside the guitarist Roberto as Sister Gloria led the youth through meditations focused on the theme of the weekend, "let it be done unto me according to your word." During this time of prayer I felt particularly exhausted and defeated, both physically and emotionally. It had been a rough day, and I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and have a good night's sleep—except that my "bed" for the night was a yoga mat on a dirty floor in a room full of teenage girls. I could only sigh within and offer my discomfort to the Lord for the youth, praying that they might receive abundant graces from the time of prayer.

God is good, and the night of sleep, though far from perfect, was more restful than I had anticipated. I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. At breakfast I was grateful to have packed a bag of instant coffee as we caffeine-addicted missionaries poured some into our avena—a soupy oatmeal that's commonly served in Peru. Coffee oatmeal, or oatmeal coffee? Missions is the mother of all inventions.

We were on the road by eight o'clock to begin the last, and longest, leg of the journey. Again we began with prayer and song, and when complaints began, I tried to remind the kids (and myself) of the intentions we were carrying. Most of us had formed blisters by late morning. The water given to us had an odd taste and ceased to be refreshing. When we stopped for break and a snack, we were again given refresco de cebada (a sweet water made from a local grain) and saltine crackers. The sky was clear and shaded sections were few and far between.

There were some moments of consolation like a quick breeze, an area of shade, or an enthusiastic pilgrim who gave others a push from behind up a hill. And then of course the scenery! Jungle meets farmland, spread over rolling hills in multiple shades of green. I'm often in awe of the beauty here in Peru, and this day was no exception.

Some spectators along the way

At one point I remarked how surprised I was that in spite of the bodily discomforts, I was full of energy. But about 45 minutes from our destination in Shamboyacu, my energy disappeared. I continued walking, but the thought of going more than five minutes longer was overwhelming. I pulled out a bag of peanuts I had in my backpack and ate a few. I left a small portion because it didn't seem like a good idea to finish them off. A little later one of the teenage girls told me she could go on no longer. I offered her the remnants of the snack, which she happily consumed and continued on.

When we finally arrived in the town square of Shamboyacu, I was overwhelmed with emotion. There was a major sense of accomplishment and relief as we finally reached our goal. We were given a joyful welcome, and each group filed into the church to give thanks and lay our petitions at the feet of the Mother of God, who would take them to her Son.

We amazingly packed into this relatively small church for Mass

After a short break, the day continued with celebration and activity. I was again privileged to help with the Holy Hour, which consisted of beautiful meditations and prayers encouraging the youth to surrender their hearts to the Lord and be open to His will in their lives. Priests were hearing confessions, and the teenagers were singing their hearts out to familiar songs. A wind storm caused the power to go out, leaving the Eucharist on the altar illuminated only by candles as the sun was setting. Glorious!

I might have thought the afternoon and evening was full enough with testimonies, dinner, and Mass, but the teens were still full of energy when a concert of praise and dancing was put on by a dynamic group from Brazil. In spite of all the miles walked that day and the blisters on everyone's feet, they were still going strong at 10 p.m., faces full of joy. I already knew that Latinos know how to party, but I wasn't expecting the firework show that followed the concert. I had never seen anything like it—because nothing like it would ever be permitted in the US! All safety concerns aside, it was a spectacular end to an amazing day.

A pilgrimage is a symbol of the Christian life. We walked toward our goal of Shamboyacu just as we should be walking each day toward the goal of heaven. We became weary, were energized by rest and nourishment. We did not walk alone, so that when our strength was failing, we could count on the encouragement of a brother or sister. And when we arrived at our goal, none of the difficulties we faced were of any concern. We were filled with joy. It had been worth every suffering.

A few days after we returned home, I was listening to a podcast and heard a quote that perfectly describes the pilgrim Christian:

We should have but one goal. We are but travelers on a journey without a yet fixed abode. We are on our way and not yet in our native land. We are in the state of longing not yet of enjoyment. But let us continue on our way and continue without sloth and respite, so that we may ultimately arrive at our destination. —St. Augustine

A pilgrimage serves to remind us that we are travelers in this life. We are not yet home, and so we mustn't become discouraged by the trials we encounter. We must face them with courage and grace, our eyes fixed on the goal. Our Beloved Savior has promised to prepare a place for us. We march forward with hope for the day when we will arrive at this everlasting home.

Waiting our turn to cross the rickety bridge

Praying the rosary in the streets of Shamboyacu

Our beloved Pucacaca youth