Hallé, Hallé, Hallé, lu-u-ya, Hallé, Hallé, Hallé, lu-u-ya… acco mpanied by rhythmic clapping, many high-fives and congratulatory smiles welcomed us pilgrims as we climbed the stairs to the Church at the Martyrs’ Shrine in Midland. Our band of 80 pilgrims had walked 189 kilometres together on country roads, railway allowances and hiking paths from Guelph up to Midland. 

When we arrived at the Shrine, we were not surprised by the greeting our volunteers provided for us.  We had heard the Hallé, Hallé, Hallé, lu-u-yas upon completing each lap of the journey.  We heard them on the very first night after completing 27 kilometres to our first camping spot.  With muscles unaccustomed to so much exertion tired and sore, this chant invited us to a circle of white plastic foot basins filled with cool refreshing water and Epsom salts.  It felt so very comforting.

This joyful feeling was then outdone by the sight of our tents, already set up for us, and then by a full course hot meal ready for us in the middle of nowhere, as soon as our feet were dry.  This happened on each of the seven nights.  One night we were treated to a hot turkey dinner with all the trimmings and even a glass of wine. Other nights it was a ham, chicken, schnitzel, spicy sausage, salads and pastas galore, desserts and always fresh peaches, cherries, grapesand oranges.  People with special dietary needs were the first invited to the buffets.  After supper the doctor made the rounds treating blisters, strains and road rash. 

And then, it was the sacred circle.  The young and the elderly, the Catholic, the Protestant, and the ones hesitant to believe, as young as 10 and as old as 76, shared their experience of the day.  Sometimes this was followed by songs and skits until dark, when most were glad to just roll into their tents and rest their tired, happy bodies until the 6:00 am gently-sung wake-up call. 

Each morning as the sun began to rise we celebrated Eucharist.  Being one of only two Jesuit priests on the walk, (the other was one of the organizers, Roger Yaworski) I was privileged to be the presider and to preach at many of these Masses.  Good folk music, many petitions, faith and eager listening characterized these early morning celebrations.  It was so easy to preach, because I was living the experience of the people – the aches and the pains, but also the thrill and the delight of seeing so much beauty in the countryside and so much goodness in each other. 

To our amazement and delight, goodness is what kept coming out of us.  There was never any complaining or second guessing.  It was all cooperation!  Those whose feet and knees began to hurt and even sideline them for periods of time did not sink into disappointment or desolation, but joined the team of generous volunteers who foresaw our every need.

The flexibility and the ability of the pilgrims to find God in the moment, however different it was from their original hopes and expectations, was astounding.  On this walking pilgrimage grace kept surprising us pilgrims.  For me, my sin and God’s redeeming love for me as a sinner were revealed in the times of quiet prayer and in the many conversations I had as I walked along.  We began as total strangers; I knew no one except fellow Jesuit Roger Yaworski.   But as the kilometers and the days passed, we became a community of friends.

Yes, we are very different, one from one another, but bonded by our experience, inspired by the life and death of the North American martyrs and deeply grateful for all we received.  This walking pilgrimage happens every year at the beginning of August.  Even if you cannot walk every kilometer, you too could have the joy of hearing Hallé, Hallé, Hallé, lu-u-ya as you complete what you can of the walk.  If you feel called, google www.ignatiusguelph.ca/pilgrimage.html