When I was a priest in Buenos Aires, and I kept this habit even as a bishop in my hometown, I loved walking through the different neighborhoods to visit brother priests, visit a religious community or talk with friends. Walking does us good: it puts us in touch with what happens around us, makes us discover sounds, smells, noises of the reality that surrounds us, in short, it brings us closer to the lives of others.
Walking means not standing still: believing means having within us a restlessness that leads us towards a “more”, 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 taken for granted, never satisfied, always searching, not yet satisfied. It is impossible to say with God: “Done, all done, is enough.”
For this reason, the Jubilee of 2025, together with the essential dimension of hope, must push us to an ever greater awareness that faith is a pilgrimage and that on this earth we are pilgrims. Not tourists or vagabonds: we do not move at random, existentially speaking. We are pilgrims. The pilgrim lives his journey under the banner of three keywords: risk, effort, goal.
Risk. Today, we find it difficult to understand what it meant for Christians of old to go on pilgrimage, accustomed as we are to the speed and comfort of our journeys by plane or train. But setting out on a journey a thousand years ago meant taking the risk of never returning home, because of the many dangers that could be encountered on the various routes. The faith of those who decided to set out on the journey was stronger than any fear: the pilgrims of old teach us this trust in the God who called them to set out on the journey to the tomb of the Apostles, the Holy Land or a sanctuary. Let us also ask the Lord to have a small portion of that faith, to accept the risk of abandoning ourselves to his will, knowing that it is that of a good Father who wants to assign to his children only what is good for them.
Effort. Walking really means effort. The many pilgrims who have returned in droves to the ancient pilgrimage routes know this well: I am thinking of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, the Via Francigena and the various “Caminos” that have sprung up in Italy, which recall some of the best-known saints or witnesses (St Francis, St Thomas, but also Don Tonino Bello) thanks to a positive synergy between public institutions and religious bodies. Walking requires the effort of getting up early, preparing a backpack with the essentials, eating something frugal. And then the aching feet, the piercing thirst, especially on sunny summer days. But this fatigue is rewarded by the many gifts that the walker finds along the way: the beauty of creation, the sweetness of art, the hospitality of the people. Those who go on pilgrimage on foot – many can attest to this – receive much more than the fatigue they have accomplished: they establish beautiful bonds with the people they meet along the way, they experience moments of authentic silence and fruitful interiority that the frenetic life of our time often makes impossible, they understand the value of the essential over the glitter of having everything superfluous, but lacking the necessary.
The goal. Walking as a pilgrim means that we have a landing place, that our movement has a direction, a goal. Walking means having a destination, not being at the mercy of chance: those who walk have a direction, they do not go in circles, they know where to go, they do not waste time zigzagging from one side to the other. For this reason, I have repeatedly recalled how closely related the act of walking and that of being a believer are: those who have God in their hearts have received the gift of a North Star towards which to strive: the love we have received from God is the reason for the love we have to offer to others.
Vatican City, 2 October 2024
