Finding the Way

God’s communications with us humans are often subtle. As the Prophet Elijah discovered, the Voice of God is often to be found in the whispering wind (1 Kings 19:11-13).

Sometimes, however, God reaches out and whacks us upside the head, either physically or mentally.

One such time in the history of the Church is the famous story of my name saint, Saint Thomas the Apostle, whose feast is today.

Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve,
was not with them when Jesus came.
So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.”
But he said to them,
“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands
and put my finger into the nailmarks
and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

Now a week later his disciples were again inside
and Thomas was with them.
Jesus came, although the doors were locked,
and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.”
Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands,
and bring your hand and put it into my side,
and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”
Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me?
Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

(John 20:24-29)

In Thomas’ moment of doubt, Christ invited him to touch the reality of His resurrection in the marks of His crucifixion.

Sometimes, folks see the evidence and don’t believe it. God blessed Thomas when he accepted the evidence of his eyes and hands.

Often times, I tell people of points in my life where God spoke to me in one way or another, and the immediate reaction from them is doubt. They suspect embellishment or coincidence. Or in one memorable case, hallucination.

Don’t get me wrong; a healthy dose of skepticism is a good thing by and large, but at some point you veer off from skepticism and right into making excuses for your disbelief.

I’m as guilty of that as anyone. Some days I can hear God on the whispering wind; some days I need a whack upside the head.

Recently I returned from a pilgrimage, a 790 kilometer walk through northern Spain called the Camino de Santiago – the Way of Saint James.

The object of the pilgrimage is the tomb of the Apostle Saint James the Greater in the Cathedral dedicated to him in the city named after him, Santiago.

Everybody walks the Way for different reasons. I walked with Christians, with Atheists, with those seeking wisdom or answers or direction, and with those just out for a nice long hike.

At different points of the Way, I suppose everybody finds some answers, but these inevitably lead to more questions. At least for me.

I had prayer intentions for the pilgrimage, but mostly I was there seeking a certain spiritual clarity that typically eludes me in the bustle and busyness of the modern working world.

By the time we got to the end, I had learned quite a bit, and I’m still unpacking the experience even two months later. A book is forming in my head – several, actually. I feel like my brain was jump-started.

But I remember sitting in the crypt, kneeling in front of the tomb of Saint James the Apostle and asking, “now what?”

The pilgrimage was over, the Way was walked. What now?

I had finished the Way, and I was already missing it.

Apparently, God decided that He wasn’t going to be subtle this time.

We went to the Pilgrims’ Mass at the Cathedral the next day, two months ago today, May 3. This is the feast of two more Apostles, Saints Philip and James the Less. The Gospel reading for this Mass is from the fourteenth chapter of Saint John’s Gospel. It begins:

Jesus said to Thomas, I am the way and the truth and the life.

Sure, you say, “that’s just a coincidence, the reading mentioning ‘Thomas’ and ‘Way’ on the day you just happen to end your pilgrimage, Thom”.

Right.

I may be a little thick, but I know the Voice of God when I hear it. Usually.

The Way wasn’t done – the Way continues forever. The Way isn’t just the walk, the Way is Christ.

Now that I’d finished the Way to Santiago, my call was to continue walking with Christ, the Way and the Truth and the Life.

Since my return, I wear a pilgrim’s emblem: the Cross of Saint James. It reminds me of my pilgrimage in Spain, but also of my continuing pilgrimage on earth. And every time I put it on or catch sight of it, I remember the Way.