Travelogues: Grace and Human Capital

 Christianity among all religions is unique because it is (as far as I am aware) the only faith tradition in which the human founder claimed to also be God. Because of this fusion of the Divine with the earthy humus (human), adherents of this religion must follow in their Mast’s footsteps: birth, suffering, transcendence, redemption. Christians cannot be so ethereal that they betray or become forgetful of their human nature and condition; nor can they be so chained to the world that the wings of flight become clipped. Training to be a Christian means learning how to accept our humanness without being limited by it. Learning this complicated waltz involves recognizing both our radical dependence on grace and Providence, but also that that grace is actuated in the interdependence we have with members of our human race.

I was reminded of this when I set off yesterday on the two-wheeled pilgrimage/journey I alluded to in my previous post. Though I’m not in the habit of quoting Thomas Merton, I think his often-quoted prayer from Thoughts In Solitude is fitting here:

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. 

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

Though I have been thinking about and planning this solo retreat for a couple months, I found that the valley I have to pass though to get to the mountain top (figuratively and literally) involves a lot of my fellow human beings.

I set off at sunrise on Sunday on my electric bicycle, with a goal to reach Allentown (my first night’s destination) before sunset. I stopped for an 8am low Mass 25 miles from home at an FSSP parish, charging my battery next to a statue of (St Francis? St Philip Neri?) in the vestibule, assuring a few bystanders not to worry, “It’s not a bomb.” [nervous laughter]. I went to confession before Mass, accidentally butting in the front of the line without realizing it. I offered to go to the back of the long line when I embarrassingly learned my mistake, but the man next to me insisted I stay. Grace.

After Mass, I realize there is a bike path 500 yards from the church that takes me all the way to my next stop (20 miles away), my friend Russ from high school who offered me his home while he was away to charge my battery, eat, and nap. Grace.

After I recharge, I have another 40 miles to ride, through rolling Lehigh Valley farmland on backroads. I stop at a pizza shop after nervously running low on juice, and grateful the owner has no problem with me charging my bike outside while I eat. Grace.

As the sun starts to make its way to the horizon, and as I weave my way through the city, I arrive a little before dusk to the house of Joe—a friend of a friend who I have never met, but who graciously opens his home to me for the night. Over lasagna, Joe and I get to know each other, and though it is a little trying at times (Joe is deaf), I’m grateful for the mutually-beneficial arrangement. I log a solid nights sleep, and an out the door at sunrise again…but not without breakfast from my host. Grace.

I had a couple possible routes, but decided to take the D&L trail from Catasaqua to Scranton (90 miles), which was yet another grace-inspired circumstance. Hard-packed gravel, no cars, essentially flat with only gradual elevation gain, and towns along the way to stop and refuel/charge, it was longer but much more enjoyable with extended sections through the woods. I pass a bench dedicated to someone’s dad that has an inscription: “Sit and talk awhile,” and I get teary-eyed thinking of my own dad.

 Lehigh Gorge and Jim Thorpe were beautiful, especially with the Fall foliage. I stop in Slatington at a laundromat to charge my battery, then on to White Haven where I stop for coffee at a Dunkin Donuts with plenty of outlets. A man in the parking lot even gives me a couple eclairs leftover from the church bake sale. Grace.

Leaving town now, I connect with my friend Mike D from college. I still have a long haul from White Haven to North Scranton, but Mike ends work early and offers to meet me at the town of Mountain Top, PA, shaving off a good twenty miles for me (which was good, because I was running out of daylight). He buys me dinner and beers, and we stop by his buddy Paul’s auto shop to check out the progress being made on Mike’s Chevy’s heat coil replacement. 

Paul impresses me because he is a true master of his craft, refusing to take short cuts or do a hack job, even though it involves removing the entire steering column. He also talks with pride about his new air compressor, and I consider it an insider lesson in this blue-collar world I’m not usually privy to as a guy who lives in a white collar world. 

Mike and I talk til midnight on his porch about life, stoicism, and being INFJs. He’s a truly unique guy, and again, the arrangement is mutually fulfilling. He agrees to drive me up the mountain, again shaving another 15 miles off a 80 mile day til I finally reach the hermitage (God willing) tomorrow. Grace.

And so you see, no man is an island, no man self-sufficient. There is grace in the receiving, and grace in being the opportunity for others to give (and being blessed for it, ie Mt 25)

The Holy family took refuge in a inn stable. Our Lord spent time at Lazarus’ house, and asked for a drink from the woman at Jacob’s well. We all need each other, our human family, to make life work.

That’s it for today. Long leg tomorrow, but hope to arrive at the Friary by nightfall. Goodnight and God bless.