The greater pilgrimage- Let it Be

I usually try to put life events in the full context of what they mean as if everying is a metaphor for something larger. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, the answers are slow in coming.

In the last few years, I've been to some amazing places and seen some amazing things and there were times that I could only stop and stare at the beauty my eyes were beholding. I am firmy convinced, however, that the value will be utterly lost the moment I stop thinking like a pilgrim and start thinking like a tourist.

7 days ago, I set my eyes on a staircase in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It has been called the miraculous staircase of Loretto. If you are unfamiliar with the story, take time to look it up.

On the surface, one can stop and see it simply as a stairway built by a stranger to satisfy a need. That falls very short of an explanation. Saying that it was built in a mysterious way that we don't fully understand, doesn't get us much further. I believe that even declaring it a miracle, and then stopping there, falls short.

There has to be a reason why God would let this powerful Saint travel all the way from heaven to build a staircase to a choir loft in a small New Mexico chapel. Throughout the history of our faith, miracles are attached to signs and I believe this one is no different. If we view the floor of the chapel as earth and the choir loft as heaven, we are stymied by a climb we cannot make and the Saints are willing, and able to assist. The staircase they build might not be visible to your eyes but suddenly you find yourself at elevations you could not possibly reach by your own efforts.

At this point, you simply have no alternative but to credit heaven for raising you up steps.

God will inspire people who don't even know it and He always raises up the humble and humbles the proud. The Apostle Paul tells us, in Phillipians 4, that he has known times of abundance and times of need. So have I.

I, like so many others, know what it means to try to put the pieces back together from a shipwrecked life, from things inflicted on myself and things that fell upon me from outside. I know what it's like to cry out as Jesus did, "My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?".

It was on one such day, on a lonely drive through New Jersey, that I had reached my breaking point and burst into sobs, overwhelmed at the weight of everything I and my family had been through.

I cryed out "WHY!? WHY, LORD!?"

I turned on the radio and was absolutely stunned at the clarity of the message.

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of Wisdom. Let it Be. And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, Let it Be.

Let it Be, Let it Be, Let it Be, Let it Be.

There will be an answer, Let it Be.

There will be an answer. Let it Be.

I come on this pilgrimage to the Lady of Guadalupe, the Ark of the Covenant, the Woman clothed with the Sun, She who comes forth in battle. Yes, all those things.

Most of all, I find Mama Mary, who comes to me in times of trouble, who stands beside me in my hour of darkness. The Mother of God, asks me, as she asked Juan Diego, "Am I not here, who am you Mother?"

I found her in Fatima, in Lourdes, in Rocamadour, in Rue De Bac, in Champion, Wisconsin. She is in the Shrines I have visited in Paris, Chartres, Washington, DC and Philadelphia and Dallas and Montreal. Now, I find her again, among the humble and passionate people of Mexico.

Pilgrims, not tourists. We come seeking treasure and we do not leave disapointed. I will cherish the memories and the newly made friendships until the day I die. The tourist travels hundreds of miles to escape his life. We travel hundreds of miles to find ours.

Ours is not the faith of easy answers and sometimes it seems more than we can bear. However, the evidence that the God of Heaven is active in the things of earth is clear enough and we try to find the faith to follow and surrender.

We find it in the simplicity of Therese, the docility of Francis, in the thunder of Chrysostom, in the warrior that was Joan of Arc, in the silent suffering of Bernadette, in the poverty of spirit of Juan Diego. We find it in the Rosary and in the Mass and in the Scriptures.

We follow the example of a teenage Jewish girl confronted with the greatest challenge one could imagine, that of being the Mother of Redemption.

She famously said: "Let it be done to me according to your word."

In following her example, we say to Heaven:

"According to your word to me,

Let it Be."