St. Ignatius of Loyola was a pilgrim. He referred to himself as such throughout his autobiography. He did so not because he was perpetually wandering the backwoods of Spain but because he embraced pilgrimage as a particular spiritual disposition — a way of proceeding — as he navigated life’s joys and hardships.
What is a pilgrim spirituality? A pilgrim spirituality is one that seeks after God who is present in all things; that trusts God to provide what is needed, knowing that all is gift; and, that sees all of creation as good and worthy, a window into the good Creator of all.
A pilgrim spirituality is not one that seeks to flee the world; rather, a pilgrim knows the value of straying from the path, of getting lost in the woods, of discovering something new and unknown. A pilgrim — rather than rushing to the finish line — takes time to bask in God’s presence, found in all places. A pilgrim knows the destination though rarely the exact route.
I believe Ignatian spirituality to be a pilgrim spirituality. Ignatius gives us tools and touchstones with which to set the course of our lives. Yet life is not the result of one major decision but rather the journey undertaken at the direction of a million tiny ones. And so, I’ve found it helpful to think of Ignatian spirituality as a trajectory-setting spirituality, a way of course-correcting and double-checking and rediscovering the way that points true. We do this work every day, in moments big and small. We are always fine-tuning our path to God.
So, what does this mean for you and me today?
Anyone who has ever gone backpacking or has taken a flight with nothing more than a carry-on bag knows the importance of packing light. It’s easy to interpret this instruction as “pack fewer things.” But in fact, the goal here is to thin our packing list down to the essentials: just those things we need to get by.
In the Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius challenges us to seek poverty rather than bloated wealth, rejection rather than high honors. This is a trajectory-setting instruction: Are we always chasing more? Or, are we content with less? Do we have what we need for this moment? Or, are we weighed down by that which is unnecessary — for example, a closet full of unworn shirts, worries over a problem beyond our control, a heart full of jealousy and judgment?
Jesus says, “You are anxious and worried about many things. There is need of only one thing.” (Lk 10:41-42)
What’s more, when we pack light — when we take only what we expect to need — we necessarily forget things. A pilgrim cannot anticipate the fullness of the path. And so, when we encounter a moment where our own pack comes up empty, we have a choice. Do we turn to another for help, embracing our own vulnerability, our own inherent limitations? Or, do we struggle on alone?
Ignatius knew the importance of community. That’s why the Spiritual Exercises are not to be undertaken alone. That’s why Ignatius reminds us that the enemy of our human nature deals in secret and shadow; as soon as we share our needs with another, the false spirit loses ground.
Jesus says, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Mt 18:20)
Finally, a pilgrim must hold lightly to any semblance of a plan. Ignatius himself wanted to spend his life on mission in the Holy Land. He ended up behind a desk in Rome. And yet, he knew he was following God’s dream for him; he held his own plans loosely. Ignatius reminds us that we are made to praise, reverence and serve God; the goods of life are gifts freely given to be used insofar as they help us draw nearer to God.
We are not to shore up goods, to cling tightly to what we falsely believe is ours, to pretend that we have control over God’s wild world. Not at all. We are to dance through life at our own pace, in our own way, in the company of our good God and the many good creatures with whom God has placed in our path.
Jesus says, “Notice the ravens: they do not sow or reap; they have neither storehouse nor barn, yet God feeds them.” (Luke 12:24)
What then for our pilgrim? Holding all things loosely means cultivating a detachment to the path before us. We can delight in what we discover while not trying to make it our own. We can let go of those tools that no longer serve us. We can reach the end in our own time, trusting that God draws us nearer while also walking alongside.
We can delight in the journey as well as the destination.
