Many people take journeys- and for a variety of purposes. Muslims make the holy journey to Mecca, called hajj, to fulfill a call set forth in the Quran. The disenfranchised English journeyed to another continent to find a home where they could exercise the liberties they were being deprived. Traveling to a place of devotion and embarking on a journey to find something new, something better...both are pilgrimages.
My grandmother has an addictive personality. She'd tell you so herself. She's a proud and longstanding member of a number of 12 step groups to prove it. I say this to emphasize that when my grandmother has a way figured out to do something- she sticks with it. One thing she has figured out pretty well is how to bring a very important prayer intention to God. A convert to Catholicism, she believes in the power of persistent prayer, especially for the big ticket items. She has journeyed symbolically through years of intercession for her children, her husband, and other special people. But she has also made physical journeys- pilgrimages- to the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington D.C.
I made a pilgrimage there with her this past Thursday, and its efficacy made sense for the first time. A pilgrimage with my grandmother is not rushed. We decided to "rely on the Holy Spirit" to get to the Shrine, since my grandmother can't read the street signs as well as she used to. As cars swerved out of her way, she road the middle of lane line and I felt perfectly safe knowing that God has always blessed her trust in him. We arrived, and went our separate ways initially. The Shrine has many small chapels and she always visits the two dedicated to Our Lady of Guadaloop (she never pronounces the "e") and Our Lady, Queen of Perpetual Help. With her help, I had chosen two different chapels myself, in order to bring two rather daunting prayer requests before Jesus, through the intercession of his mother, Mary. I headed off to Our Lady, Queen of Peace and Mary, Queen of All Hearts.
We met after in the Crypt church in the lower level and quietly prayed until the organ started playing, filling the space with profound chords. The Blessed Sacrament was exposed in a gold monstrance, surrounded by the mandatory ten candles or more, and we began to sing Tantum Ergo. After the blessing, or Benediction, given by the priest, a noon mass began. After I received the body and blood of Christ, under the form of bread and wine, I felt a genuine and simple peace come to rest in my body. Then, I felt an upwelling of love- and faith, and hope. In that moment- I felt assured that God had heard my prayers and knew exactly what was needed in the situations I had described to him.
My grandmother treated me to lunch- but first, she offered to buy me whatever I wanted from the gift shop as a memento of our pilgrimage and God's response. After much consideration, I chose a whitish translucent stone cross about a foot tall. Jesus body emerges in the front, but behind him God the Father holds him up, with the Holy Spirit above his head, in the form of a dove. It moves me greatly to pray to God before this Trinitarian image. I've never seen anything like it.
A pilgrimage is a journey in search of something new, something better. Seek- and you shall find.