When I was in high school they made me read The Canterbury Tales. This may have happened to you as well. I was not familiar with the Anglican tradition of Christianity at the time and I was also not paying much attention in my English class so I did not really grasp that the characters portrayed in the stories were people on a pilgrimage – but they were! They were Christians on a pilgrimage to Canterbury, the historic seat of their (and our) church.
If you’re not familiar with the Canterbury Tales, let me tell you why I was made to read it: It’s an anthology of short stories written by an English author named Geoffrey Chaucer back in the late 1300’s. The premise of the book is that a diverse group of English folk who find themselves together on this pilgrimage to a holy site hold a storytelling contest. It is often credited with being a seminal work in popularizing the English language in western literature. Which is great, because this very important, very revered piece of writing is essentially a collection of raunchy, ridiculous, earthy, funny, sad, sincere folk tales.
Again, I did not really grasp the idea of pilgrimage as a young person. I keep thinking about what I heard Professor Ellen Davis say when she was speaking about pilgrimage at our church a couple weeks ago: She pointed out that “the concept of pilgrimage is not a part of our dominant cultural experience.” Which is to say, those of us in the dominant culture of America don’t really have a frame of reference for pilgrimage: We don’t think of it often, we don’t see it as a something connected to our identity as Americans or even as Christians. It’s an oddity.
As a native Californian, I have often remarked upon returning to visit California that I have to make a pilgrimage to In-N-Out Burger. Cincinnatians who have scattered will often say the same about hitting the Skyline Chili upon their return home. These are, of course, not pilgrimages in the real sense: Yes, In-N-Out and Skyline are indeed revered places worthy of visitation, and they are part of what makes Californians Californian and Cincinnatians Cincinnatian. But these pilgrimages are mostly about nostalgia – not transformation.
So, I had no frame of reference for the pilgrim’s way of the Canterbury Tales. However, I do remember being struck – even as a disinterested teenager – by Chaucer’s characters and the community they were building by telling their stories. I could picture not only the tales they told, but the settings in which they told them – on the road, around the fire, at a tavern. These people were not just walking the road, they were making friends and building community along the way.
We have been talking about pilgrimage this last year at the Church of the Redeemer, but if I’m being honest, I’m still not sure everyone sees that we are on one. And, again, I get why that is: It’s not a language we have developed much as Christians in America. While some folks went on a Celtic pilgrimage about 25 years ago, pilgrimage as a way of life has certainly not been part of the dominant culture at Redeemer.
We are on a pilgrimage though: We are journeying together into the next chapter of our life as a church. We are still ourselves, but there is a visible, palpable transformation occurring as we move towards the fulfillment of our vision of a beloved community that knows Jesus and grows in love. Our literal pilgrimage to the borderlands this Fall is not a side project, but a manifestation of the larger pilgrimage we as a faith community are taking.
But whether or not every single one of us sees that we are on this pilgrimage, every one of us sees that we are building community. We are telling stories and sharing life and undertaking ministry and singing songs and praying and listening and speaking with one another. Even when teenaged me didn’t perceive the pilgrimage occurring in Chaucer’s book, I grasped the power of the community that was being formed therein. And I think the same is true for us all here at Church of the Redeemer.
We live in a time and place where people are increasingly isolated, stratified, and starving for community. And at the Church of the Redeemer, we are building a powerful, exciting, Christ-centered community that is rooted and grounded in unconditional love and belonging. There is nothing else like this church in my life, and I am guessing if you are part of it, you might say the same.
Think for a moment about the communities of which you are a part. How many of them are founded on the principle of Love as a divine action? How many of them insist upon honoring the dignity of every single human being? The way we look out for each other, pray for each other, check in with each other, share peace with one another, learn with one another, worship and wonder alongside each other – this is community being built on pilgrimage. And it is a pilgrimage. We are on a journey towards God with a deep desire for transformation: We have no expectation of being the same people at the end of our time together as we were at the beginning.
We are messy and imperfect, to be sure. We get a lot wrong. That truth has never stopped God from showing up, from loving us, from leading us on this pilgrimage into a deeper love for the world God has made.
If you’re not sure about all this pilgrimage talk – if you’re wondering when I’ll start talking about something else – that’s fine. If you feel like tuning out like I did in my English Class all those years ago, I’m not going to judge you: But take the time to notice the community we are building along the way – because you are an integral part of it. You are a part of my transformation as I am a part of yours. We are in this together, and the stories we share are the very shaping of the beloved community.
