Wisdom and the Word:

Placing ourselves before the Mayan altar, we trace the axis from North to South. This is the path of humanity, our journey from birth to death. Amidst fragrant white flowers, a white candle burns brightly, reminding us of our birth and beginnings.

In the Pop Wuj, the sacred story of the Maya, the first people were fashioned from dough or "masa," made from white and yellow corn: "Later they took into account the construction and formation of our first mother and father, whose bodies were of yellow and white corn, the people's legs and arms were made of food, our first parents..." Pop Wuj: Book of Time (Mythic-historic Poem of the Ki-ché, translated from the original text by Adrián I. Chávez), Biblioteca Popular, Ediciones del Sol, ©1994, p. 111. After giving thanks to their first grandparents and their first parents, to the Spirit of the Heavens and the Spirit of the Earth, they multiplied and became so numerous that they embarked on a journey in search of a place to live, even as they waited for dawn. Pup Wuj: Book of TIme, pp. 112-113, 116-117.  

"Blessed are those who find strength in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage." Psalm 84:5.

Poetry for Meditation:

I stand on the edge of myself and wonder,/Where is home?/Oh, where is the place/where beauty will last?/When will I be safe?/And where?/My tourist heart is wearing me out/I am so tired of seeking/for treasures that tarnish./How much longer?/Oh, which way is home?/My luggage is heavy/It is weighing me down./I am hungry for the holy ground of home.

Then suddenly, overpowering me/With the truth,/a voice within me/gentles me, and says:

There is a power in you,/a truth in you/that has not yet been tapped.

You are blinded/with a blindness that is deep/for you have not loved the pilgrim in you yet.

There is a road/that runs straight through your heart/Walk on it.

To be a pilgrim means/to be on the move, slowly/to notice your luggage become lighter/to be seeking for treasures that do not rust/to be comfortable with your heart's questions/to be moving toward the holy ground of home/with empty hands and bare feet.

And yet, you cannot reach that home/until you've loved the pilgrim in you/One must be comfortable/with pilgrimhood/before one's feet can touch the homeland.

Do you want to go home?/There is a road that runs/straight through your heart,/Walk on it.

"Tourist or Pilgrim?" by Macrina Wiederkehr, Seasons on the Heart: Prayers and Reflections, ©1991, pp. 184-185.

Contemporary Reality:

One year when we were in Chiapas, we asked our friend Rosalina what qualities were most important in leaders among the Tseltal Maya. She smiled and said: "Someone who serves the community with love, listens more often than speaks, and walks slowly." Among the Tseltal Maya, the pace of pilgrimage is "our grandmother's pace." With each slow step, "we feel our feet touch our Mother, the Earth."

Questions for Reflection:

How might I slow down the pace of my life so I may listen for my heart's questions?

How am I traveling through my life as a tourist?

In what ways do I journey in  my life as a pilgrim?

Prayer:

Mother-God, help me walk the journey of my life with slow and thoughtful steps. Help me discover the road that leads me to the place where my heart is at home.