[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]It\u2019s a common custom, among some, to take up a little extra reading in Lent\u2014something different, something spiritual, something to open the mind and the heart. I do this; I try at least to read something good for the soul, something different, something I\u2019ve not read before or not for a long time. It\u2019s good for me; it\u2019s better than television; it helps me think and pray and focus.<\/p>\n
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This Lent I\u2019m reading The Pilgrim\u2019s Progress<\/em> by John Bunyan\u2014rereading it, for it\u2019s been a long time. It\u2019s a classic of literature, a spiritual classic too. It\u2019s the story a man named Christian, a pilgrim making the arduous journey to the \u201cCelestial City,\u201d to heaven; it is an allegory of the Christian life, romantic and fanciful. It\u2019s a Puritan text, not Catholic at all. The pope does make an appearance in the book, but it\u2019s not flattering; he appears as an old man sitting at the mouth of a cave grimacing at pilgrims who ignore him as they pass by. For that reason, it may not be as well known among Catholics. But still, it\u2019s a good book, one that has always taught me and strangely comforted me.<\/p>\n It belongs to that great genre found in so many of the profound stories of human culture. A story of a quest, a pilgrimage, a journey: it belongs to all those stories from Abraham to the Hebrews wandering in the desert to Dante to the Wizard of Oz. There\u2019s just something we understand in stories like these, something that touches us, something true these stories tell us\u2014and that is we are each of us individually and together on a journey going somewhere; and sometimes that journey is difficult and even dangerous, sometimes the paths are full of light and ease; sometimes they\u2019re dark and winding and frightening.<\/p>\n The Pilgrim\u2019s Progress<\/em> was a favorite\u2014I\u2019ve said before\u2014among the British soldiers in World War I. There was a trench, for instance, named \u201cPilgrim\u2019s Progress,\u201d and many of the soldiers saw themselves in the main character, Christian. As Christian carried a great burden on his back, so did the soldiers with all their gear. In the story of this Puritan pilgrim, men in the trenches saw their story.[1]<\/a> It\u2019s why we like these stories so much, why they remain in the culture and in our consciousness, because they tell us something profound, something we know, each of us, about the journey that is this thing called life.<\/p>\n One scene particularly has struck me thus far in my reading it again, and that\u2019s when Christian and his companion Hopeful lose their way. They took what they thought looked like an easier path, a short-cut, but found themselves quickly in the dark; come to a place called \u201cDoubting-Castle,\u201d they became prisoners of a rather monstrous figure called \u201cGiant Despair.\u201d Day and night, they remained trapped by Giant Despair in his Doubting Castle. They began to think they wouldn\u2019t get out of there alive, that Despair would kill them. Giant Despair threatened them every day, and even suggested to them that they end themselves, that that would be a more merciful thing to do. These pilgrims, having got lost a little bit, found themselves in great danger, and they were afraid, morbidly afraid. It is a dark moment in the story, this allegory of the Christian life. Perhaps you understand it.<\/p>\n But then the beautiful moment: It was, as the story goes, as the sun was rising, still locked in the dungeons of Doubting-Castle, that Christian finally spiritually woke up, \u201cas one half-amazed,\u201d it says, like he just remembered something important that had always been true. \u201cWhat a fool,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cI have a key in my bosom, called promise, that will\u2026open any lock in Doubting-Castle.\u201d And so, Christian pulled from his heart the key called promise and unlocked the door, and then the next door and then the next. By the time Giant Despair found out what had happened, there was nothing he could do, because Christian and Hopeful had found the King\u2019s Highway again, beyond Despair\u2019s reach. And then they were able to sing again, pilgrims making progress to the heavenly city.[2]<\/a><\/p>\n A simple little story, simple like a children\u2019s fairy tale: still, it speaks to me, saying something quite grown-up, something some of us\u2014perhaps many of us\u2014might need to hear. And that is, for we Christians, there is a key in our heart called promise. It\u2019s there; we need to remember it\u2019s there. The promise is, of course, of God\u2019s redemption, the work of his love for us. We are in Christ; the Holy Spirit has been poured into us and so we are sons and daughters of the Father; we can pray to the Father.[3]<\/a> Grafted into the promise to Abraham alongside our Jewish sisters and brothers, we too belong to that ancient hope to belong eternally to the one God, to be in his family with him forever, to be surprised, to laugh, to hear when it\u2019s all said and done from God himself, \u201cBehold, I make all things new.\u201d[4]<\/a> That is, the promise is of our destiny which we possess by faith; which we should remember\u2014especially in moments of darkness and despair and even sin, no matter how grotesque\u2014that we have within our hearts a key called promise, and that we just have to find it to use it to unlock all those doors closing us in. This, of course, is an allegory, a symbol. But perhaps it speaks to your life right now.<\/p>\n The gospel today is of the transfiguration of Jesus. On his way to Jerusalem, a pilgrim but also a savior, Jesus is changed mystically and miraculously, his face and his clothes shining like the sun.[5]<\/a> Just for a moment he was revealed thus; only a few disciples saw it, this eternal yet fleeting glory, before they resumed their journey to Jerusalem and to the Cross, a pilgrimage undertaken for us. The transfiguration was like the key of promise for the disciples: it revealed their destiny, showing them what\u2019s eternally real, what\u2019s transcendently true. And it\u2019s a miracle we\u2019re meant to remember, in which we\u2019re meant to find hope as we walk with Christ too\u2014to our own Jerusalem and to our own death and resurrection. Which is the point, that in Christ we should have hope, that we can have hope\u2014no matter the darkness, no matter how giant or frightening our despair.<\/p>\n No matter your despair. Because you belong to the God who created you, who redeemed you in Christ, and who will not let you go. Because he loves you; he really does. And it\u2019s love that will not fail you. If you\u2019ll just look in your heart and find the promise that\u2019s always been there, and then unlock the door. Amen<\/em>.<\/p>\n [1]<\/a> Paul Fussell, The Great War in Modern Memory<\/em>, 138<\/p>\n [2]<\/a> John Bunyan, The Pilgrim\u2019s Progress<\/em> (London: Penguin, 1987), 168-169<\/p>\n [3]<\/a> Romans 5:5; 8:14-15<\/p>\n