Pilgrim
(noun) 1. a person who journeys, especially a long distance, to some sacred
place as an act of religious devotion; a wanderer, especially in a
foreign place.
Tourist
(noun) 1.a person traveling, especially for pleasure.
--Random House
Dictionary
Are you a tourist or a pilgrim?
First there’s the coffee here, so strong and black and thick it leaves a
soupy residue of bitter grounds in the bottom of the cup. Then the language: I
can’t understand one word even after ten days in this strange place. Not many
churches here either. The country is 98 percent Muslim. There are 80,000
thousands mosques here and every day, five times a day, the call to prayer is
blasted out from loudspeakers at each one, together creating an otherworldly
cacophony which floats out over whatever city I’m in. It regularly jolts me awake at 4:00 am. Not a cheeseburger in sight either, nor a
Wal-Mart or a Boston Globe. I’ve no idea
how the Red Sox are doing.
Oh, and did I mention I’m absolutely loving it here in Turkey, this
amazing and beautiful and foreign and haunting place, 4,836 miles from my front
door? I write these words on a sultry and warm mid-June day, looking out on
the Black Sea, on the far northeastern coast of Turkey,
one of fifteen folks on a church sponsored trip to explore the holy and
biblical sites of what once was Asia Minor.
Right now all I pray is this: that I may be a pilgrim and not a tourist in the
few days I have left here, and not just on this trip but also on the journey
called human life.
A tourist. We know the familiar
cliché image. Clunky oversized camera around the neck, floppy hat on the
head. Furiously rushing on and off the
tour bus at every sight for a few quick photo ops and then hurry back on the
bus, on to the next spot on the itinerary.
One more item checked off. No time to really get to know the locals or
culture. Bags filled with souvenirs, sporting a locally purchased t-shirt: “I
went to Istanbul
and all I got was this T-shirt!” Complaining that there is no place to get a
decent cup of coffee or adequate cell phone service.
Here in Turkey I’ve
seen lots of these tourists: American,
German, Japanese. I remember travel
times when I’ve been touristy too.
Traveling through life, rushing, but not really taking the time to
explore a place more deeply. Staying on
the surface of a destination and not digging in or worst of all viewing it
through the safety of a bus window or a camera lens, keeping it all at arm’s
length. Or perhaps viewing a foreign
place, a foreign people through my own often narrow cultural biases, wondering
“Why can’t ‘they’ be more like me?”
It would be easy to fall into that trap in a place like Turkey.
Women in full length black burkas are a common sight here, one I’ve
never encountered before, a bit jarring until you get used to it. The spires of minarets and their mosques are
everywhere; not many of those at home.
Most of the churches here are actually museums. Christianity hasn’t been
a real presence here for almost a century.
Judaism has a nominal presence.
The food, the language, everything is strange.
Unless I see it all as a pilgrim, as one on a holy journey of life and in
life. Long ago many folks of faith
undertook pilgrimages as pilgrims to holy places like Turkey or Jerusalem
or Mecca, where millions of
faithful Muslims still trek today. The
key to these trips is attitude: how as pilgrims we encounter the strange and
different and peoples and lands and cultures we come in contact with as we
travel in the world, and not just far away but every day at home too.
To be a pilgrim means to enter a place not with expectation but instead
with curiosity. What can I learn here? What lessons does this ‘stranger’ have
to teach me? To be a pilgrim means to take seriously our place as a guest in a
new destination, to be civil, polite, humble even, at all times. How might our lives as humans in this often
conflict ridden world improve if only more of us acted thus in any new
situation? To be a pilgrim offers us the opportunity to see the holy and the
sacred in every aspect of life, whether in the midst of a vacation to a far off
place like Turkey or sharing
space in line at Dunkin Donuts with someone we’ve yet to meet. Because when we are more pilgrim like and
less tourist like, miracles happen. Sweet surprises come our way, like grace
from heaven.
Yesterday our group visited a fifth century monastery, built on the side
of a 4,000 foot mountain here, breathtaking enough in itself. One of our pilgrims stopped to help a person
having great trouble making the trek up the winding and steep path, and found
himself stranded at the entrance, separated from our group, with no money to
buy a ticket to enter that holy place.
Encountering the Turkish ticket taker, he explained his plight to her as
best he could. Without hesitation and
without being asked, the gracious and kind young woman took out her wallet and
paid for his admission. That’s what
happens when we live as pilgrims. When
we are wide open to the big, bright world, the world opens itself up to us too.
So before you go away on vacation this summer, pack up the suitcase or
the car, purchase a ticket for destinations unknown, or even before you go out
the front door this morning, ask yourself. Will I be a tourist or a pilgrim
today? How you answer just may change
your life and this world in all your travels, around the corner and around the
globe.
Let’s all be pilgrims.