Jesus went out, along with His disciples, to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way He questioned His disciples, saying to them, “Who do people say that I am?” – Mk. 8:27
We had a physicist friend to dinner last week. In honor of the occasion, Chris wore his geekiest math t-shirt and practiced his newest physics joke. He greeted our guest with the straight line “What’s new?” To Chris’ utter delight, our visitor came right back with the punch line: “Cover lambda!” The joke is all about light and how fast it moves – C is the speed of light.
A couple of days later I walked into Bryn Mawr to run an errand. As the cars whizzed past, I briefly regretted that I had chosen this much slower method of transportation. Everyone else seemed to move at the speed of light by comparison; surely my time could be better spent.
As I walked, it occurred to me that in one sense I was moving at the speed of light. Christ is Light from Light, True God from True God, the fundamental constant in the universe from which the rest flow, and yet He chose to move at this same deliberate pace. No timesaving, miraculous translations. He walked. This was the speed of Light.
So I walked. No longer anxious about how fast I was moving, I opened my eyes to see what Christ might see if He walked these same streets with me, and my ears to hear what questions He might have for me, as He had for those who accompanied Him 2,000 years ago.
Walking makes you aware of what you carry and what you choose to pick up and take home. Needs and wants suddenly must be balanced against their cost, at least in space and weight. How often do I think about the cost of what I need – or those for whom the cost is more than they can bear? A mistake in direction takes more effort to correct when you walk than when you drive. Walking encourages you to think before you step: am I going in the right direction?
Creation is not once removed when you walk, but under your feet and within reach. So, too, is the trash on the ground and caught in the trees and shrubs. When you slow down and look, even the small bits of trash – the gum wrappers and bits of glass – are glaringly obvious. When I slow down and look at my own life, can I see that which mars what God has created me to be? I find as I walk that I am resolved to pick up some of the litter that is caught around my soul.
Like the disciples who walked with Jesus in Caesarea Philippi, questions dogged my footsteps. But I returned home sure that while Christ intended those walks to be instructive for His disciples, as they were for me, it is not the fundamental reason He took to the roads. He walked because when you are on foot, there is no shield between you and your fellow travelers.
The older woman I have seen so many times heading into town with her walker is no longer a nameless blur as I sail by in my car, someone to whom I might give just a passing thought. Now? I know her name; I know that she is going to the library; I know how much she cherishes the freedom of these walks. Christ walked with us so that He would know our names, our stories and our destinations – and we His.
Sovereign God, ruler of our hearts, You call us to obedience and sustain us in freedom. Keep us true to the way of Your Son, that we may leave behind all that hinders us and, with eyes fixed on Him, walk surely in the path of his kingdom. Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever. – Opening Prayer for the 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C
Michelle Francl-Donnay is a member of Our Mother of Good Counsel Parish in Bryn Mawr. She can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org.