Norman Rockwell’s painting Lift Up Thine Eyes has always mesmerized me. Rockwell depicts people walking on a busy street, heads down, completely oblivious to the beautiful, imposing church right next to them. It seems to me that these days our whole society is filled with people walking around with their heads down, staring at their phones.
In times when people fail to notice the beauty and transcendence around them, the Church is a lighthouse — illuminating what we might otherwise be unable to see. She invites us to pray and patiently discern the Spirit, and the sacraments are an antidote to the distraction and noise of contemporary life. One specific way that Christians, for centuries, have been led to find the answers to our deepest longings is through the practice of the pilgrimage walk. Eventually, I would join their ranks.
The seed was planted in 2010 after watching the movie The Way, which lit a fire within me to go on a pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago (the Way of Saint James). Life — and the Atlantic Ocean — got in the way, though, until the spring of 2018, when the opportunity arose for me to go on a pilgrimage much closer to home.
RELATED: The Camino de Santiago: The Gift That Keeps on Giving
California’s camino, the California Missions Trail (CMT), links the twenty-one Spanish missions started by Saint Junípero Serra, O.F.M. (1713-1784). Some have compared the 800 mile CMT to rosary beads, but I think a more appropriate image is a double helix strand. Like the great pilgrimage routes in Christendom, the CMT offers spiritual fruits to the sojourner.
My friend has done the Camino de Santiago many times, and he told me that the CMT is much more difficult, both physically and practically. For example, the CMT lacks the infrastructure that the ancient Camino de Santiago has, such as its albergues (the inexpensive places for pilgrims to sleep), and the yellow arrows and scallop shells that mark the trail. There are commonalities, though, including hospitality (see the California Mission Walkers), experiencing God’s grandeur in nature (especially walking in the clouds at Refugio Pass in the Santa Ynez Mountains and Patchen Pass in the Santa Cruz Mountains), and visiting the tomb of a saint (at Mission Carmel Basilica is the Shrine of Saint Junípero Serra, the apostle of California). Most importantly, both trails share the participants’ desire for transformation.
RELATED: My Virtual Camino: Celebrating the Feast of St. James in My Own Backyard
Before embarking on my walk of the California Missions Trail, I was moving through life at the pace of a tortoise. Slow and steady wins the race, right? The walk gave me a lot of time to reflect on this. I became more aware of the meaning behind what the philosopher Martin Buber wrote: “All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” I realized that I could be more patient, cognizant of the blessings in my life, open to the stranger, and aware that Christ is with me always. St. Teresa of Avila put it best, “We are walking in order to arrive at the encounter with Jesus.” Once I made myself open to the gifts of the Holy Spirit, I started to discern them at work in my life.
Every day I hit the CMT, I prayed the rosary, which gave me great consolation. Still, for the first roughly 200 miles, there were many times that I wanted to quit, mainly for physical reasons. I kept pushing myself, though, myself because I wanted to know what my body was capable of, and I wanted to gain a better sense of who I truly am.
California has a lot of empty space between its metropolises. On those sections loneliness and quiet abound. One mission is aptly named Mission Nuestra Señora de la Soledad (Our Lady of Solitude). While walking there, Mother Nature threw high winds and triple digit temperatures at me. I recited the Jesus Prayer for about half of my marathon walk that day and could not recall thinking about anything else. It was quite the mystical experience. I had a renewed sense of gratitude for my wife and son when they picked me up and for those missionaries who served in the missions.
RELATED: Fr. Dave Interviews ‘The Ways’ Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez
Walking the CMT helped connect me with those who lived their Catholic faith before me. I learned the stories of the indigenous, Spanish, and mestizo Catholics hidden in the quiet of California mission history. I experienced the invisible and visible worlds colliding when I entered Mission San Fernando Rey de España and witnessed a group baptism of people from all walks of life. I thought of all those who were baptised in this sacred space through the years, and was encouraged by the ways they carried on as a pilgrim people. In other words, I felt the past, present, and future in an instant.
Approximately 45% of the CMT is in rural areas where cell service is spotty or non-existent. I had no choice but to look ahead. It was a metamorphosis of sorts. I went from the realization that I was what Pope Francis described as a Christian “spiritual mummy,” someone “standing still…but not bear[ing] fruit: they are not fruitful Christians because they do not walk,” to someone who was walking intentionally and, borrowing from the Psalmist, “looking to the heavens!”
Going for a long walk and spending time with God helps put into focus what matters most. But for this to work, we don’t need to journey to Spain for the Camino, or even to California for the CMT (though I do highly recommend people check it out if they can!). It simply begins with taking the first step.
Saint Junípero Serra, apostle of California, and Pablo Tac, holy California mission Indian, seminarian, scholar, pray for us! ¡Siempre adelante y nunca para atrás!
