Our Stories
This is a regular feature in which we highlight the unique lives of the Jesuits in English Canada province.
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Paul Robson, S.J.
My Pilgrimage Story
Before I set out on pilgrimage, I had decided to try to make it as far as Mexico City, to the shrine and basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Why Mexico City? The idea had come to my mind months previously, perhaps simply because it is a well-known pilgrimage destination. Also, for a while I have admired and venerated the famous image of Our Lady. Before leaving St. Paul, I told my fellow novices that I wasn't too worried about whether I actually made it to that destination or not, but was more interested in the journey itself. Upon further reflection, I'd say that that's not quite true: the destination was important, but was only one part of the journey and of the overall experience.
My basic plan before leaving, which was purposely not very detailed, was to hitchhike down to Texas somewhere; then to take the bus to Mexico City and back; then to hitchhike back to the novitiate. I had a month in which to complete my trip. I was, thanks be to God, able to complete the intended itinerary.
Here is the approximate route that I took on the first leg of my trip, from St. Paul, Minnesota, to San Antonio, Texas
Without many plans and without much money (I left the novitiate with $35), I was attempting to make myself open to relying on God rather than on myself. Later on, during and after the trip, I became better able to explain how God was working on me and in me during this time (and I will expand on this topic later). Before departing, though, I tried to express what I was seeking on this journey through the following "Pilgrimage Prayer":
Dear Lord Jesus, be my companion on this journey;
or rather, may I be your companion.
Help me to be kind and good in all circumstances;
May I be grateful and receptive;
May I pray more often, be with you more often,
and experience the joy of Easter.
Lord, may I be open to living uncomfortably, as well as comfortably;
or, make me more comfortable with discomfort.
Don't let me stumble;
or, let me stumble, and then comfort me;
or, allow that my stumbling does not bother me.
Help me, Lord, to trust in you and not in myself;
Help me to trust in your Food more than in earthly food,
and in your Word more than in the words of others.
Jesus, with you by my side, enough has been given,
and nothing can shake me.
Three Particularly Memorable Days:
1. April 16:
On the third day of my trip, I started the day in Beatrice, Nebraska (pronounced "Beátrice"). I had slept in a hotel, as a nice man named Duane, whom I'd met at the local Catholic church the previous evening, had offered to pay for a hotel room for me for the night. I prayed and read a bit in my hotel room, then walked down the road to the church for Mass. After Mass, the priest there, Fr. Major (who I'd also met the previous day) invited me up to the front of the church to tell the school children who I was and what my pilgrimage was about. I recall that the children asked pertinent questions such as, "What's your favourite colour?" After that, a very kind and friendly woman named Monica Brightinger offered to take me out for breakfast at McDonald's. She then drove me across the border to Marysville, Kansas.
As I recall, I hadn't been walking along the side of the highway (Highway 77) for very long when I was picked up by Jeannie. Jeannie drives a big tractor-trailer with which she hauls cows around. She said that she doesn't usually pick up hitchhikers, but that something told her to pick me up that day. She ended up driving me almost all the way through the state of Kansas, for about 5 hours. During that time we had a wonderful conversation. We discussed our shared Christian faith, including where we find God in our lives, in both good times and bad. She told me about her boyfriend, who did not seem to be very supportive of her faith, and about her children, who are (or were at that time) rebellious teenagers and not interested in religion. We also listened to Randy Travis gospel music along the way.
Here's the approximate route that I travelled with Jeannie
Those 5 hours spent with Jeannie were a really special time. It was one of those moments where I felt like I was in the right place at the right time. I was able, by the Holy Spirit who had helped put me in good spirits that day, to cheer Jeannie up and encourage her. She said that I was a godsend to her, and I said the same thing about her. I thought to myself that day that my pilgrimage could have ended now and would've been a worthwhile experience. However, there were a lot more adventures yet to come!
Jeannie dropped me off in Winfield, Kansas. There, I spoke to a woman who suggested that I might be able to spend the night at a Salvation Army shelter in Ponca City, Oklahoma. I went back to the highway then, and was able to get two more rides. The second ride was from Rex Luis (pictured here). He was kind enough to drive quite a ways out of his way for me, to the shelter. Once there, I was given a nice meal; I called my parents to let them know I was all right; and I took the dog, Choco, for a walk before bed.
2. April 30:
I woke up on the 30th of April at a hotel in Mexico City, at around 2:30 in the morning. I didn't have a watch, though, and so wasn't aware of how early it was. I had wanted to get an early start to the day, and was excited about it. I'd planned to spend the day in and around the basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I got up, got dressed and went outside. I wandered around the deserted streets for a few minutes, then found someone whom I managed to ask, in Spanish, about the time. Then I decided to go back to the hotel and back to bed.
A large portion of that day was spent wandering around the grounds of the shrine and basilica. I walked around slowly and prayerfully, praying in various chapels. I admired the devotion of the Mexican people. I observed a young man crying at the sight of the tilma, the original garment of Juan Diego which displays the image of Mary. I thanked Our Lady for having watched over me on my pilgrimage thus far. I thanked God for the day and for my vocation. I asked God for the grace to be able to be led by His Spirit, and to do whatever I can in His service throughout my life. I recalled the following words written by Simão Rodrigues, one of the original Jesuits:
When I arrive at the church to which I am making my pilgrimage, I will take the saint to whom it is dedicated as one who does me special favours before the Lord. I will give Him great thanks for having brought me to the place in question, and ask for help to persevere in His service. And I will renew all my good purposes and specific intentions about God's service, calling on the saint whose house it is as a witness, asking them that they should always remember me before the Divine Majesty, seeing the obligation that I have to God.
The old basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and another church beside it, at 6 a.m. (the second time I'd got up that day).
I went to a little restaurant at lunch time, and treated myself to a "flauta". Other than that meal, I only ate tea biscuits and drank water during my short trip to Mexico. I purposely tried to travel about during this portion of the trip, and for the most part during these 30 days, as a poor pilgrim rather than as a rich tourist. I didn't take no money with me, as St. Ignatius might have done, but neither did I take a large amount by which I could live comfortably.
Prior to travelling to Mexico City, I had stayed in San Antonio for a week. While there, I had met Fr. Jake Empereur, a Jesuit who ministers at the San Fernando Cathedral. Through him, I had the opportunity to help out with the Cathedral's "Fiesta" celebrations, by selling beer, and I met a lot of parishioners. They were very kind and generous, and gave me money to help with my trip. I gave away most of what I was given, though - again, because I wanted to travel fairly poorly, to rely on God more than on material things.
Later that afternoon, I started walking toward the bus station. (I hadn't known this before I arrived in Mexico City, but the bus station is fairly close to the Guadalupe shrine.) I enjoyed testing out the little Spanish I knew as I asked people for directions along the way. I would ask, for example, "¿En que direccion esta el Terminal Central del Norte?" I found everyone I approached to be quite helpful and friendly.
3. May 3:
My plan for this day involved leaving San Antonio and beginning to hitchhike toward El Paso. I started the day by going to a Mass at 6:15 at the cathedral. Fr. David Garcia, the pastor there, then took me out for breakfast at Bill Miller's. I then started walking toward the highway. I walked to Highway 10, a busy interstate highway; then I changed my mind and walked down to Highway 90, thinking it better to stay off of the interstate.
I got three rides between then and 1:00. The last of the three was from a young man named Justin. He was on his way to Uvalde to do some community service. He kindly gave me $10 which I used to buy lunch. While leaving Uvalde, a young Navy Recruiter, Matthew Stone, pulled over and asked me if I'd ever thought about joining the Navy. I replied that I'm Canadian, and so perhaps not eligible for the U.S. Navy. Matthew and I then had a nice chat as he drove me a short ways out of town.
I'd asked God for the grace of being open to being uncomfortable, and I got the opportunity that day. I was out on the road for the next six hours or so. I walked for the most part, resting once in a while. I entertained myself by praying the rosary and singing, trying to recall as many songs as I could to which I knew the words. After a few hours, I was singing and praying less. It was a hot, muggy day, and I ran out of water after a few hours. The only person who stopped during that time was a man from the Border Patrol (and he said he wasn't able to give me a ride, unless it was to jail - maybe I should've taken him up on it!). Perhaps that's why no one else stopped: because they thought I might be an illegal immigrant, or perhaps there's a law against hitchhiking in that part of the state.
As nightfall approached, I began to worry more. What would I do for the night, if no one gave me a ride into town? Maybe I could walk up to a farm house and ask for a place to sleep; but then, all I saw along the road was miles of fences, and no houses. Maybe I would have to sleep, or try to sleep, in the ditch at the side of the road. I was not looking forward to this possibility; if it were to have happened, though, I'd have survived, I'm sure, and it would've been an occasion where I felt scared and in need of God.
Around 8 p.m., a nice fellow named Fernando stopped and picked me up. He was going to Eagle Pass, which was a fair ways south and not in my intended direction. He offered, though, to take me there, if I wanted. The logical thing to do, I think, would've been to go with him to Eagle Pass, so as to be in a town where I might find accommodation for the night. I followed his advice, though, which was to get down while still on Highway 90. He assured me that I'd get a ride to the next town, which was not far away.
Santana Tarango and his friend and business partner, Juan
It was about 8:30, and I was watching the sun disappear below the horizon, when amazingly, miraculously even, a car stopped. St. John wrote, "You will be deeply distressed, but your pain will turn into joy" (John 16:22). I felt a surge of joy as I ran up to the car!
Not only did I now have a ride, but I felt greatly relieved and taken care of, considering the hospitality of the driver. Santana Tarango was very kind to me. He offered to let me stay at his home for the night, which was a treat. I had met many generous people as I'd travelled around, but this was the first time that someone had offered to put me up in their own home. Santana's a very devout, religious man. We discussed our Catholic faith on the way to Del Rio, where he lives (although I was too tired to think very clearly!). He suggested that I dedicate each step of my trip to Jesus, and to offer my trials and temptations to Him on behalf of others who don't turn to Him in similar situations.
When we reached Santana's house, I realized how thirsty I was as I gulped down some watermelon juice that he offered me. He also offered me some cereal, which I gladly accepted. He didn't have any milk, though, so we drove to the store to get some. I slept well that night, as you can imagine.
Further Reflections on Graces Received:
All of the experiments that we've done at the novitiate this year take one out of one's element, make one feel somewhat uncomfortable. Being in a new situation, I feel the need to pray more and to trust God more. This is how I felt as I hitchhiked around, and as I travelled in a foreign country. I also found that a situation that is scary and that seems difficult can become comfortable. Thus, the fact that I was travelling with only a small amount of money and without arranged accommodations didn't worry me anymore, or certainly not as much, by the end of the trip.
I stated that I trusted that God would take care of me, and He did. How did He take care of me? Not by making everything easy for me, not by immediately providing me with everything I could possibly want. Rather, he helped me to maintain the proper mood or spirit as I travelled. On a certain day, I might feel worried in the morning about the day to come. I would then pray and try to relax in my room, attend Mass if possible, and continue to pray as I started walking down the highway. The Holy Spirit would then (on a typical day - not at the same time or in the same way each day) fill me with a spirit of joy and confidence, for which I would give God thanks.
Filled with this Spirit, I would then be able to visit well with people - to evangelise, even. I've often wondered about how to properly evangelise, how to properly share my faith. I don't like the idea of "proselytising" in the sense of telling someone about the joy I find in God whether that person wants to hear it or not. Hitchhiking around, people who picked me up were often, naturally interested in knowing what I was doing out there! This inquiry would allow me to tell that person something about my pilgrimage and about myself as a Jesuit novice. When God would grant me the joy and confidence which I've mentioned, then I would be able to share openly and kindly. This is how I felt that day that I travelled with Jeannie.
Also, with the help of the Holy Spirit, I was able to make good decisions. Thus, I was able to discern how much money to keep with me. Or, I tried to discern, as I travelled around, which place to approach first in search for lodging when I arrived in a town in the evening. I suppose I can't be sure that I always made the best decision, and I could've trusted God and made the best of a decision either way. On the other hand, I often felt confident that I was doing what was best.
I should mention again the joy that I found through the somewhat difficult situations that I put myself in, or was put in. I often found myself feeling quite thankful and happy at the end of a day, considering that the day had begun uncertainly and ended well. Now, I feel the same way as I reflect on my pilgrimage as a whole! I pray that I might continue to grow in hope and in the sense of peace and joy that comes from God.
Appendix: An Excerpt from the Web Page of Jerry Harp:
Ironically, I met another traveler here yesterday, Paul Robson, age 28. Paul is studying to be a Jesuit priest and is on a pilgrimage from Winnipeg, Manitoba [actually, from St. Paul] to Mexico City to the Cathedral of Gaudelupe. He is hitchhiking and depending on the "kindness of strangers." Paul copped a free motel room thru the FBC! The pastor did not make inquiries as to the reason for his travels, so could not appreciate the fact that the Baptist church helped a devout Catholic along his way to pay homage to the Virgin Mary!
Paul kindly invited me to use his motel room for the night, but I'm a tent only man on this trip! I did use the opportunity to shower there though, and invited Paul to share my "super" oatmeal at breakfast. He really liked it and had two helpings. He then offered me a bag of totally shredded jerky that he had grown tired of. It was good so I accepted. Paul hiked out of the park to the hwy to continue his journey. And I moved to the library.
Paul Robson sharing my "super oatmeal."
Source: http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/?o=1gci&doc_id=2355&v=HW