Pilgrims on the roads of God get rid of the superfluous and walk towards hope

Pope Francis

When I was a priest in Buenos Aires, and I kept this habit even as a bishop in my hometown, I liked to walk through the different neighborhoods to visit brother priests, visit a religious community or talk to friends. Walking feels good: it puts us in touch with what is happening around us, it makes us discover the sounds, the smells, the noises of the reality that surrounds us, in other words, it brings us closer to life of others.

To walk means not to stand still: to believe means to have within us a concern that leads us towards a «plus», towards a step forward, towards a height to reach today, knowing that tomorrow the path will take us higher, or deeper, in our relationship with God, which is exactly like the relationship with the loved one in our life , or between friends: never finished, never acquired, never satisfied, always searching, not yet satisfying. Impossible to say with God: “It’s done, everything is done, it’s enough”.

This is why the Jubilee of 2025, with the essential dimension of hope, must push us to an ever greater awareness of the fact that faith is a pilgrimage and that we are, on this earth, pilgrims. Neither tourists nor vagabonds: we do not move at random, existentially speaking. We are pilgrims. The pilgrim lives his walk under the banner of three key words: risk, fatigue, destination.

The risk. Today, we struggle to understand what pilgrimage meant to ancient Christians, accustomed as we are to the speed and convenience of our travel by plane or train. But a thousand years ago, going on the road meant taking the risk of never returning home due to the many dangers that could be encountered on the different routes. The faith of those who chose to leave was stronger than any fear: the pilgrims of old teach us this trust in God who called them to set out towards the tomb of the Apostles, the Holy Land or a sanctuary. We too ask the Lord to have a small part of this faith, to accept the risk of abandoning ourselves to his will, knowing that it is that of a good Father who only wants to assign to his children what which is appropriate for them.

Fatigue. Walking is actually synonymous with fatigue. This is what the many pilgrims know who, today, return in large numbers to the ancient pilgrimage routes: I am thinking of the route to Santiago de Compostela, of the Via Francigena and of the different routes that have emerged in Italy and which recall some of the most famous saints or witnesses (Saint Francis, Saint Thomas, but also Don Tonino Bello) thanks to a positive synergy between public institutions and religious organizations. Walking involves the effort of getting up early, packing a backpack with the essentials, eating frugally. And then the feet become sore, the thirst becomes pungent, especially on sunny summer days. But this effort is rewarded by the many gifts that the walker encounters on his way: the beauty of creation, the gentleness of art, the hospitality of the people. Those who make a pilgrimage on foot – many can testify to this – receive much more than the effort of fatigue: they form beautiful bonds with the people they meet along the way, experience moments of authentic silence and fruitful interiority than frenetic life. of our time often makes it impossible, understands the value of the essential in relation to the brilliance of having all the superfluous, but lacking the necessary.

The destination. Walking like a pilgrim means that we have a point of arrival, that our movement has a direction, a goal. Walking means having a destination, not being at the mercy of chance: he who walks has a direction, he does not go in circles, he knows where to go, he does not waste his time zigzagging from one place to another . This is why I have repeatedly recalled how the act of walking and that of being a believer are closely linked: those who have God in their hearts have received the gift of a pole star towards which to tend: love that we have received from God is the reason for the love we have to offer to other people.

God is our destination: but we cannot reach him as we reach a sanctuary or a basilica. Indeed, as all those who have made pilgrimages on foot know well, finally arriving at the desired destination – I am thinking of Chartres Cathedral, which has long experienced a revival in terms of pilgrimages thanks to the initiative, a century ago, by the poet Charles Péguy- does not mean feeling satisfied: or rather, if externally we know that we have arrived, internally we are aware that the journey is not completed. Because God is like that: a goal that pushes us to go further, a destination that constantly calls us to continue, because he is always bigger than the idea we have of him. God himself explained it to us through the prophet Isaiah: “As heaven is high above the earth, so are my ways high above your ways, and my thoughts above your thoughts” (Is 55.9). With God we have never arrived, towards God we have never arrived: we are always on the way, always looking for him. But this walk towards God offers us the intoxicating certainty that he is waiting for us to give us his consolation and his grace.

Vatican City, October 2, 2024