It’s time to leave, to turn our backs on the blonde stones caressed by the Maltese sun. We must return to our cold, wet France and take comfort in the trees that have taken on their fiery colors – it’s chestnut season. In short, we have to tell our inner child that the holidays are over. And yet the decision to make room in our lives for something else remains. Pilgrimage is a time of listening and finding that it is only possible when we make ourselves available, when we pause our daily routines. What was this gap in time filled with, then?
With the undeniable beauty of Malta. The island fulfills the dreamlike promise that preceded it. Its very human scale makes it an ideal place of pilgrimage, at once close in its warm welcome and impressive in the wealth of its treasures; a land where you can receive much without exhausting yourself. Beautiful by land and sea, beautiful in the visible and the invisible – a true haven.
This is a land of saints. From the great figures of Sts. Luke and Paul, to the many Marian shrines, to the impressive figures of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, wherever you turn your eyes you will find a figure that uplifts and inspires.
We can’t help but want to read more about these men and women who lived evangelical radicalism and served “their masters, the poor.” In a time of retreat, the breadth is dizzying and invites us to find ways to be open to others in our own time.
“Making Church”
Making a pilgrimage like ours, guided by the Liturgy of the Hours, is also “making church” –like the first Christians in the catacombs of St. Paul. It’s about escaping the trials and tribulations of everyday life, with a group of people united by the same faith, looking together in the same direction. I’m leaving with the golden trace of this island in my eyes and in my heart – an island that is a witness to the light.
See earlier installments:
