Pilgrimage Journal

	1.16.01
	Another turbulent conversation has finally convinced me to address the Apostle Paul's teaching about work and earning a living. Several people have referred to him from time to time, when I talk about 'giving freely' vs. asking for payment, or when I criticize capitalism. Paul's work as a tentmaker is often raised as an objection. Not that Paul's life is the measure of perfection--I think most Christians accept Jesus' life as the one we are to imitate. But I think the life and teachings of Paul often have not been presented fairly or clearly, and that's part of the problem. Also, the discussion may clarify my own thinking on this topic, and help me emphasize what's really important.
	I'll start with the most difficult passage, 2 Thessalonians 3.6-12:

Now we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you keep away from any brother who is living in idleness and not in accord with the tradition that you received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with you, we did not eat any one's bread without paying, but with toil and labor we worked night and day, that we might not burden any of you. It was not because we have not that right, but to give you in our conduct and example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we gave you this command: If any one will not work, let him not eat. For we hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work. Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do their work in quietness and to earn their own living.

Clearly, the emphasis here is against those "living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work." This is right. We should work, using our talents, and being creative, not just "busy." I think that's the real message of this passage, and I completely support it. But Paul says several things in his argument against idleness that can (and have been) applied in other ways. "We did not eat any one's bread without paying"; "If any one will not work, let him not eat"; "Now such persons we command... to earn their own living"; these lines can be combined to defend a capitalist economy. But I don't think it's clear that is what Paul envisioned. I think there are other remedies for idleness that do not carry with them such serious side effects, such as cutting off those who, for one reason or another, cannot pay for the bread they need. But Paul might not have intended to lay the groundwork for a capitalist economy (he's talking about idleness here). Certainly, many other passages from his letters have been used as biblical justifications for horrible abuses (specifically his words about the Jews, slaves, and women); and these are usually misrepresentations of Paul's thought. For a fuller picture, we need to look at more of Paul's letters, and the life he lived.
	Some of the things Paul mentions in that last passage also appear in other places, where he's not writing about idleness. His reference to working "night and day, that we might not burden any of you," also appears in his first letter to the Thessalonians (2.9). (And Acts 18.3 tells of his work with other tentmakers.) I already acknowledged that creative work is a good thing, and I will also readily support 'not wanting to burden others.' But, again, working and avoiding being a burden on others does not require a free market economy where everyone has to pay for what they receive. For example: we can keep from being a burden by minimizing our own consumption, living more economically, or by not pressuring others to pay our way. 'Not being a burden' is good, but if people are sharing with us freely, we can accept without being "burdens." Paul makes another interesting comment in that same letter (1 Th 4.11-12):

Aspire to live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we charged you; so that you may command the respect of outsiders, and be dependent on nobody.

"Be dependent on nobody" is quickly snapped up as the battle cry of economic individualism. Everyone is expected to pay their own way, thus "depending" on no one else. Again, I'm not sure whether Paul would support that position or not--but I'm sure I don't. We are always dependent on others; we simply cannot survive without the help of others. We only deceive ourselves when we attempt to use dollar bills to convince everyone that we are independent. Inter-dependence is a fact of life, and a very good and holy gift of God. Jesus himself clearly lived a inter-dependent life. He was constantly provided with food from other people's tables and shelter under other people's roofs (and he taught his disciples to do the same: Mt 10.8-11, which contains that beautiful command, "You received without paying, give without pay"). Jesus preached and lived a radical dependence on God, who met all his needs through others. Just as God meets our needs through others.
	But back to Paul. As much as we hear about Paul working to 'pay his own way,' that was not always the case. Often he writes about gathering money at churches to support other churches, and sometimes part of that support was paying his way (2 Cor 11.8-9):

I robbed other churches by accepting support from them in order to serve you. And when I was with you and was in want, I did not burden any one, for my needs were supplied by the brethren who came from Macedonia. So I refrained and will refrain from burdening you in any way.

[Also note Phil 4.16, where Paul talks about receiving financial support from the Philippians when he was in Thessilonica.] Here we see Paul 'not burdening' in the same way Jesus did. Some people gave freely to him, so he could give freely to others. Especially when it came to preaching the gospel, 'giving freely' was very important to Paul. I think that's what made him so obviously uncomfortable about receiving anything from the people he was preaching to. He often defended the preacher's "right" to expect help from the congregation, but Paul wanted the gospel to be free of charge. This is demonstrated in 1 Corinthians 9. First Paul reiterates the preacher's "rights," then:

But I have made no use of these rights, nor am I writing to secure any such provision. For I would rather die than have any one deprive me of my ground for boasting. ...What then is my reward? Just this: that in my preaching I may make the gospel free of charge... (1 Cor 9.15,18)

Boasting aside, I think Paul's got it exactly right here. The important thing is, not paying your own way, not independence, but being able to give freely (and in Paul's case the gift is the highest: the gospel). Earning money by selling our services is one way to be able to give freely; and perhaps Paul did encourage this and do this himself. But this method requires us to not give freely to some people (our customers) so that we can give freely to others. Plus there are other objections against requiring payment from others for our services (Jesus himself raised them; for example, Lk 6.33-35, and Lk 14.12-14). But is there any other way? Paul himself demonstrated another way: Accepting help from those who want to give freely to us enables us to give freely to others. That way, all our human interactions are guided by the generosity of love and all witness to our common dependence on each other and, ultimately, on God. Not surprisingly, Jesus lived just like this. And for those who worry that living this way won't provide the necessities of life, Jesus said, "Look at the birds and the lilies."(Mt 6.25-33) 
	I keep shifting from Paul to Jesus, but I don't think Paul would mind. I will conclude, however, with Paul's words about the ideal form of (Christian) society, where we give when others are in need, and accept when we are in need. Where we don't worry about 'getting paid' or 'paying our own way' or becoming rich, but imitate Christ, who was willing to become poor so that we all might receive his riches:

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich. [...Here Paul mentions a donation the Corinthians had apparently promised for another church...] I do not mean that others should be eased and you burdened, but that as a matter of equality your abundance at the present time should supply their want, so that their abundance may supply your want, that there may be equality. As it is written, "He who gathered much had nothing over, and he who gathered little had no lack." (2 Cor 8.8-9,13-15)

Note that Paul is not talking about heaven here, or just addressing the clergy. This is to a whole community, on earth (and it sounds much like the real, earthly community described in Acts 2.44-47 and 4.32-35). Those whose creative work has produced some abundance are encouraged to give freely to those who are in need. They give what they can give, and they receive what God provides for them through their own work and the gifts of others. No payment required. And this does not necessarily result in idleness or anyone being "burdened." These problems may arise, so we need to hear Paul's warnings. But warnings are not a model for goodness. Jesus is our model for goodness--and his life clearly showed us the way.

	1.18
	O Nature, and O soul of man! 
	how far beyond all utterance are your linked analogies;
	not the smallest atom stirs or lives on matter, 
	but has its cunning duplicate in mind.

	So says Ahab. And I think that's true. There's an intricate symbolism in nature that gives us innumerable clues for our spiritual life. Melville was obviously interested in the way symbols reveal inner truths. His masterpiece, "Moby Dick," is packed with powerful symbolism. Yet Melville (through his narrator) expressed worry that his story would be taken as "a monstrous fable, or still worse and more detestable, a hideous and intolerable allegory." Even though "Moby Dick" was fiction, Melville tried to keep it as close to reality as possible, so that his symbols would be real, not contrived. Anyone can invent a symbol and assign it some arbitrary meaning (why should a red octagon mean 'stop'?). Real symbols, however, are not invented; they are discovered. Nature symbolism, for example (such as sleep/night/winter/death). Real symbols speak to the universal human experience, providing a universal language. Like nature, they are gifts of God. So it's not surprising that real symbols reflect something of God's nature: powerful, timeless, deep.
	Much of the satisfaction I expressed in the entry on the 15th has to do with my discovery of real symbolism in pilgrimage. I've mentioned this before. From the first days on the road, I began to see that much of my 'preaching' would have to occur silently, through the symbolism of pilgrimage. That disappointed me, a little. But then, slowly, I realized that this symbolism could be even more powerful (and more universal) than words. And it allows a continual preaching, rather than isolated speaking events. This coincides with St. Francis's advice: "Preach always, and if you need to, use words."

	1.19
	I've noticed that much of the real symbolism of pilgrimage appears in the story of Israel's Exodus from Egypt, that grand Biblical pilgrimage. That story holds a central place in Jewish life, as the origin of the seder meal, and as a model of faith. References to the Exodus are sung throughout the Psalms. But this pilgrimage story is not just for the Jews. It's often referred to in the New Testament as well; and it is the source of many of the best-known Sunday school stories. So I thought I'd look at some of the major (real) symbols in the Exodus story, highlighting the pilgrimage themes and offering some possible connections to the spiritual life.
	The first powerful symbol I want to look at is the crossing of the Red Sea. The story appears in Exodus 14 and 15 (14.29-31 quoted here):

The people of Israel walked on dry ground through the sea, the waters being a wall to them on their right hand and on their left. Thus the Lord saved Israel that day from the hand of the Egyptians; and Israel saw the Egyptians dead upon the seashore. And Israel saw the great work which the Lord did against the Egyptians, and the people feared the Lord; and they believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses.

As the Israelites come up against the Red Sea, it stands as a frontier, a line of demarcation: here slavery ends; here security ends; the freedom of the wilderness is beyond. Yet this is not a fence to be hopped over. It is a vast sea; and at first it appears to be the end of Israel. They find themselves caught between Pharaoh's army and the sea, between death and death. That's part of the real symbolism here: the sea signifying death. Often water is a symbol of life. But here--a cup of water may symbolize life, but a sea of water symbolizes death. As it is often presented in "Moby Dick," the sea is violent, merciless, unfathomable, cold and dark. All of us have likely experienced being submerged and airless for several long seconds. Even that short time is enough to assure us that water can mean death; we gasp with relief upon breaking its surface. And because the sea serves well to symbolize death, we see it in other Bible stories as well. The flood wreaks God's vengeance on a wicked earth. Jonah sinks in the violent sea for his disobedience. And if we are still unsure of the death symbolism contained in the wide Red Sea, we need only gaze again at the lifeless bodies washed up along its shore.
	Yet the Red Sea does not prove to be the death of the Israelites; instead, they pass through the sea. Believing in the Lord, the people of God passed through death. I see this as the most important use of symbolism in this story. God's people passing through death, out of slavery into freedom, symbolizes faith. As the author of the letter to the Hebrews recalls: "By faith the people crossed the Red Sea as if on dry land; but the Egyptians, when they attempted to do the same, were drowned."(Heb 11.29) I've already written much on faith as the 'death' of self, the most radical spiritual self-surrender. So I think it will be obvious how well the through-the-sea symbolism serves to communicate the reality of faith. I'll only add the connection to baptism. The passing-through-water of baptism is also a symbolic death, indicating faith. It also reminds us of Jesus, who didn't just symbolize faith, but lived perfect faith in his actual passage through death. Paul writes to the Colossians, "You were buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead."(2.12) And when Paul talks about baptism in the same way in Romans 6, he also connects this death with a freedom from the slavery of sin. As the Israelites escaped from Egypt, passing through the depth of the Red Sea, we also escape slavery as we continually pass through death by faith.
	But let me make this more concrete. I believe the symbolic 'message' is true, but it's nothing compared to the reality of all those human beings, threatened with death by soldiers and the towering water, then miraculously set free. Trembling, they cry with joy on the far bank. That's the reality of faith. And that's what I want to symbolize on pilgrimage. Of course there's no chariots or walls of water, but I think the through-death-to-freedom of faith can be symbolized in other ways, maybe a bit less dramatic. The Israelites didn't just take a walk through the sea; they left the security of their homes for the uncertainty of the wilderness (as they often reminded Moses later, with much complaining). Such letting-go is also a symbol of death. And that symbolism is a part of pilgrimage--without the Hollywood flash of waters being parted, but still pretty effective. People notice the self-stripping of pilgrimage (leaving income, home, community); they feel the reality of the sacrifice. And it's also hard to miss the resulting freedom. So at least part of the Red Sea symbolism appears concretely in pilgrimage, offering an instant, deep impression of the meaning of faith.

	1.20
	The next major symbol is described right after the Red Sea story; the Israelites called it "manna." Exodus 16.13-21:

...In the morning dew lay round about the camp. And when the dew had gone up, there was on the face of the wilderness a fine, flake-like thing, fine as hoarfrost on the ground. When the people of Israel saw it, they said to one another, "What is it?" For they did not know what it was. And Moses said to them, "It is the bread which the LORD has given you to eat. This is what the LORD has commanded: 'Gather of it, every man of you, as much as he can eat; you shall take an omer apiece, according to the number of the persons whom each of you has in his tent.'" And the people of Israel did so; they gathered, some more, some less. But when they measured it with an omer, he that gathered much had nothing over, and he that gathered little had no lack; each gathered according to what he could eat. And Moses said to them, "Let no man leave any of it till the morning." But they did not listen to Moses; some left part of it till the morning, and it bred worms and became foul; and Moses was angry with them. Morning by morning they gathered it, each as much as he could eat; but when the sun grew hot, it melted. 

	The first thing that stands out is the wonder of this miraculous bread. "What is it?" the people ask. We know bread; it's a very common and powerful symbol of life. But this bread seems unusual because it is given directly by God, who rains it down as dew. This bread seems to come right down from heaven. But is this so unusual? All of our food comes 'from heaven,' really. The sun beams down, the rain descends, feeding all the earth's vegetation; which then feeds us, as well as all the animals that also feed us. We acknowledge that God provides for all living things, yet the symbolism of manna makes this reality even more apparent. Manna becomes the perfect symbol of bread, food, sustenance.
	Yet there are also other characteristics of this symbol that we notice immediately. It is distributed fairly, according to need. "He that gathered much had nothing over, and he that gathered little had no lack." There has perhaps never been a more just distribution of resources in all the communities and economies that followed. Not surprisingly, Paul recalled this aspect of the manna symbolism when advising the Corinthians about sharing their goods with others (as I pointed out in the entry on the 16th; 2 Cor 8.13-15). The other characteristic we notice is the perishability of the bread from heaven. It lasted only one day (except on the Sabbath). We are, of course, familiar with the perishability of food; most edibles have a very limited shelf-life. But the manna exaggerates this aspect, prohibiting any hoarding, and causing the people of Israel to look to their providing God every single day. It anticipates Jesus' prayer: "Give us this day our daily bread." And we should notice that all the characteristics of the manna are inter-dependent. God gives the bread generously, so the people are encouraged to distribute it justly, according to need, and not hoard. And the bread's perishability makes it impossible to hoard, encouraging sharing and continual dependence on God.
	Overall, I think the manna symbolism shows the right way to handle all material goods. So that's something I also want to symbolize on pilgrimage. True, I've got no hoarfrost bread. But there is the daily dependence on God for food (not asking anyone, just waiting for God to move someone to offer). And when you carry only one small bag, there's little opportunity for hoarding. Plus there's the conscientious objection against an economic system that resists a just distribution of material goods (the poor must always be enticed by wealth, but remain relatively poor, to maintain the profit margins of the wealthy). So pilgrimage symbolizes some of the same truths that God showed us through the manna. In a momentary image, it silently preaches Jesus' words:

Do not be anxious, saying, "What will we eat?" or "What will we drink?" or "What will we wear?" For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be yours as well. (Mt 6.31-33)

And: "Freely have you received, freely give." (Mt 10.8)

	1.21
	The third Exodus symbol I want to look at, the pillar of cloud and fire, actually appears before the Red Sea crossing, in Exodus 13 (21-22):

The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night; the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night did not depart from before the people.

Here, the cloud and fire obviously symbolize the presence of God. This is real symbolism, nature symbolism again. Fire and mist are visible and active but not solid; we perceive them moving, but cannot grasp them. So they serve well as symbols of a living, spiritual being. And both are also used in other Biblical stories to indicate the presence of God: the burning bush, Mt. Sinai, the transfiguration. Thus the mysterious pillar symbolizes that this people is led by God.
	And the behavior of the pillar further emphasizes that God is leading:

Whenever the cloud was taken up from over the tent, after that the people of Israel set out; and in the place where the cloud settled down, there the people of Israel encamped. At the command of the Lord the people of Israel set out, and at the command of the Lord they encamped; as long as the cloud rested over the tabernacle, they remained in camp. ...Whether it was two days, or a month, or a longer time, that the cloud continued over the tabernacle, abiding there, the people of Israel remained in the camp and did not set out; but when it was taken up they set out. (Num 9.17-18,22)

The pillar led them along the way, and signaled when to camp and when to proceed. That's leadership. The pillar also protected them, holding off the Egyptians until the Red Sea opened (Ex 14.19-20). Even the laws for this people came out of the cloud and fire, which crowned Mt. Sinai (Ex 19.16-18). The symbolism points to God as sole leader. Moses may have stood before the people, but they clearly understood that he was only a mouthpiece, given because they feared the direct voice of God (Ex 20.18-19). At this point, God was the only leader of Israel--it would be many years before they asked for a king.
	I think this symbolism can still speak to us today, though we are overwhelmed by leaders. Politicians pack our capitols, and countless corporate leaders claim our allegiance with equal (or greater) power. But each of us knows the feeling of being lost and vulnerable, needing guidance and protection. That common, powerful need keeps the politicians in business (and the businessmen in politics). And yet we are continually dissatisfied with our leaders. The pillar symbolizes a better way. Not that the people of Israel consistently modeled this 'way'; there was plenty for Jesus to improve upon ("You have heard that it was said... but I say to you..." Mt 5.21-48). But just as the Israelites followed the pillar, so Jesus also followed the leadership of God alone. And just as God ruled Israel with authority in whatever land they occupied, so Jesus also recognized the authority of God above every local ruler:

[Pilate] entered the praetorium again and said to Jesus, "Where are you from?" But Jesus gave no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, "You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?" Jesus answered him, "You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above..." (Jn 19.9-11)

There are also plenty of us today who say (if not in words, then in actions), "We have no king but Caesar!"(Jn 19.15) So we still have much to learn from the symbolism of the cloud and the fire.
	Again, this is something I also want to symbolize on pilgrimage. And again, I've got no visible flaming pillar floating before me. But just as God provided the Israelites (and Jesus) with guidance and justice and protection so they didn't need earthly rulers for these things, so also God provides guidance and justice and protection on pilgrimage. Peace despite vulnerability indicates that there IS a pillar ahead. Only it takes faith to see it. Also, as with the manna symbolism, there's a conscientious objection as part of the pillar symbolism. But here it's political: against self-serving rulers who capitalize on the fears of the people. It is a fearful people that begs for a protector and judge, who will levy taxes and fill prisons and conscript armies. The faithful pilgrim, on the other hand, like the faithful Israelite, believes in the just and merciful leadership of God, and is not tempted to ask for a king. Instead, the symbolism of pilgrimage quietly points to the one worthy Ruler, whose kingship is "not of this world."(Jn 18.36)

	1.22
	The last Exodus symbols I want to look at require some introduction. Jump ahead to the border of Canaan, just over two years after the escape from Egypt (most of that time being spent in camp at Sinai). Israelite scouts return from a forty-day survey, and all but two of them (Joshua and Caleb) report that the land is heavily fortified and full of giant warriors. The people immediately despair of God's leadership (highlighted in yesterday's entry):

Then all the congregation raised a loud cry; and the people wept that night. And all the people of Israel murmured against Moses and Aaron; the whole congregation said to them, "Would that we had died in the land of Egypt! Or would that we had died in this wilderness! Why does the Lord bring us into this land, to fall by the sword? Our wives and our little ones will become prey; would it not be better for us to go back to Egypt?" And they said to one another, "Let us choose a captain and go back to Egypt." (Num 14.1-4)

This was the same wail that Moses heard on the edge of the Red Sea, and again every time food or water seemed scarce. Note how his reply recalls the pillar symbolism:

"Do not be in dread or afraid of them. The Lord your God who goes before you will himself fight for you, just as he did for you in Egypt before your eyes, and in the wilderness, where you have seen how the Lord your God bore you, as a man bears his son, in all the way that you went until you came to this place." Yet in spite of this you did not believe the Lord your God, who went before you in the way to seek you out a place to pitch your tents, in fire by night, to show you by what way you should go, and in the cloud by day. (Deut 1.29-33)

The manna symbolism may also be suggested here ("the Lord your God bore you, as a man bears his son"), but I think the most important connection is with the Red Sea symbolism. There, the Israelites passed through death into freedom, by faith. Here, lacking faith, they fear death so much that they turn back towards the slavery of Egypt. And instead of being delivered from death, they condemn themselves to a death in exile:

"As I live," says the Lord, "what you have said in my hearing I will do to you: your dead bodies shall fall in this wilderness; and of all of your number, numbered from twenty years old and upward, not one shall come into this land where I swore that I would make you dwell, except Caleb the son of Jephunneh and Joshua the son of Nun. But your little ones, who you said would become a prey, I will bring in, and they shall know the land which you have despised. But as for you, your dead bodies shall fall in this wilderness." (Num 14.28-32)

The author of Deuteronomy describes what happened next: "Then we turned, and journeyed into the wilderness in the direction of the Red Sea..."(Deut 2.1)
	That's enough introduction. The symbols I'm interested in are: the wanderer and the pilgrim. We often hear of Israel's 40 years of wandering in the desert, but we should remember that most of that resulted from their own faithless choice. Really, before they turned back from Canaan they were pilgrims: on pilgrimage to Sinai, then on pilgrimage directly to the promised land. They didn't become wanderers until they rebelled against God's leadership. After that, they were 'doing time' on the road. A lifetime of aimlessness. All because they forgot their faith; they forgot the Red Sea.
	The Red Sea symbolizes faith, and faith separates the pilgrim from the wanderer. Both are on a journey, which is itself a real, natural symbol. We have all experienced journeys, and are familiar with nomadic tribes, animal migrations, and other natural travelings. But pilgrimage is different from wandering. And it's not that the pilgrim has a destination in mind; the destination may not be known (Abraham didn't know; Moses didn't know). The difference is that pilgrimage is a journey of obedience. True pilgrimage is obedience to God. That's what gives true pilgrimage its absolute value; and that's why faith is required (if pilgrimage is to be true). It takes faith to recognize God's leading, to see the possibilities where, humanly, no possibilities can be seen. And we have to see the possibility before we can even contemplate taking the next step. Faith sees the fiery pillar; the pilgrim's feet obediently follow. Faith sees the way through the sea; the pilgrim's feet cross on dry ground.
	A pilgrim is often used to symbolize the Christian life. But the reality is that most lives are better represented by the wanderer. The faith to trust God for our food and shelter; the faith to give freely to others; the faith to turn the other cheek; the faith to suffer for the truth; these are not readily apparent most of the time in our lives. Instead, we aimlessly chase shifting desires, and are driven one way then the other by the fear-mongers. The rich and powerful use us like pawns (and are themselves the pawns of others), because we are easily moved. And this goes on and on until our dead bodies fall in the wilderness. That's not pilgrimage.
	Pilgrimage is living by faith. Not just a moment of faith, but a series of moments, strung together in a living existence. Not just a step but a journey. This doesn't mean that to live by faith we must literally take to the road; but actual pilgrimage does offer the perfect symbolism to preach faithful living (recall Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Paul). The pilgrim's journey symbolizes the time-aspect of faith, reminding us that one great act of faith does not make a faithful life--faith is a lived continuum. We can't cross the Red Sea once, then threaten to turn back every time our food runs low, or we come up against fortified cities and giant warriors. We must follow God's leading through the sea again and again. Every time his providence is doubted, every time his leadership is challenged, we must take another obedient step through death by faith. We must walk our whole pilgrimage between those towering walls of water, with chariots at our heels. But if we don't forget where we are, if we don't forget faith, then the reality of God's love will deliver us to freedom with every step of our walk. We will see the manna all around us; we will see the pillar of fire that goes before us. And we will feel God himself carrying us "as a man bears his son," to that far shore--our promised home.
	----------

P.S. One apparent problem with symbolism is its ambiguity; symbols are open to countless misinterpretations. My prayer is that the symbolism of my pilgrimage will serve the same dual purpose as Jesus' symbolic parables (Mt 13.10-16). For those with the faith to understand, his parables provided encouragement and inspiration. But to those without faith--including many who thought they knew the ways of God--his parables offered only confusion, that those people might realize that they lacked understanding. Encouragement and challenge both, packed in such simple symbolism. That's what our lives should be: parables from the mouth of Jesus.