UNDERSTANDING THIS PILGRIMAGE

A silence and contemplation pilgrimage, also called a contemplative pilgrimage, takes a person worn out by noise to the places where the Church learned to be quiet with God, such as Carmelite Ávila, the hermitages of St. Francis and St. Benedict, and monasteries that still keep the hours of prayer, and it is made slowly enough that the pilgrim can actually pray there. No experience of silent prayer is needed to begin. It borrows the stillness of a retreat but remains a pilgrimage: you travel to holy places with the Church, and the silence is kept for the sake of listening to Jesus Christ, not for its own sake.

What this pilgrimage is: a pilgrimage, not a retreat

A pilgrimage and a retreat are close relatives and worth telling apart. On a retreat you go to one house and stay there, usually in silence and often with a director or a series of talks; the withdrawal is the point. On a pilgrimage you travel to a holy place, the road and the arrival are both part of the prayer, and you go with the Church to where a saint lived or the Lord acted. A writer in a seminary's journal, who expected the one and was given the other, put it simply: a retreat involves sitting or kneeling, and a pilgrimage involves walking.

A silence and contemplation pilgrimage sits between them on purpose. It keeps the destination, the saints and the shared road of a pilgrimage, and borrows from the retreat its slowness and its protected quiet. If what you need is several days of unbroken silence in one place with a spiritual director, make a retreat; many monasteries and retreat houses receive guests for exactly that, and the Church's letter on meditation says that a Christian needs certain periods of retreat into solitude. If you want to pray where Teresa prayed, or climb to the cave where Francis slept, and to have time to be quiet once you are there, this is the pilgrimage.

Why someone is drawn to it

Few people come to this kind of pilgrimage out of curiosity. Most come tired. Some are tired of noise in the plain sense: the phone, the feed, the office, a house that is never quiet. Speaking in a Charterhouse in 2011, Benedict XVI observed that some people are no longer able to remain for long in silence and solitude, and warned that in a life filled at every moment with sound and images the virtual risks predominating over the real. Many pilgrims recognize themselves in that description and want to find out whether they can still be still.

Others come because their prayer has outgrown its old form. They have said their prayers faithfully for decades, sense that they are being asked to say less and listen more, and do not know how. Others are carrying a decision, a grief or a long weariness from ministry or caregiving, and need room more than they need input. And some have made the great pilgrimages, loved them, and came home wishing there had been one hour at the grotto or the tomb with nothing scheduled after it.

It is fair to say why someone might hesitate, too. Silence can be uncomfortable, especially at first; what noise has kept at a distance tends to arrive when the noise stops. That is one reason the tradition surrounds silence with structure: the Mass, the psalms, a page of the Gospel, a set time, a place where other people are praying. Nobody is asked to sit alone facing a blank wall.

The Catholic foundation: silence in order to listen

Christian silence is not an achievement and it is not an escape. It is what a person does in order to listen to Someone. The Gospels show Jesus doing it: Mark records that He rose very early, before dawn, and went off to a deserted place to pray. Benedict XVI, near the end of his catecheses on the prayer of Jesus in 2012, pointed to the Lord "withdrawing to lonely places, away from the crowds" at the decisive moments of His mission, and drew the conclusion for us: "Inward and outward silence are necessary if we are to be able to hear this word."

The Catechism gives contemplative prayer a section of its own and opens it with St. Teresa of Ávila, for whom it is nothing else than a close sharing between friends, time taken frequently to be alone with the One who we know loves us. It goes on to call this prayer a gift that can only be accepted in humility, a gaze of faith fixed on Jesus, a hearing of the Word of God, and silence. It quotes the peasant of Ars who explained what he did before the tabernacle: "I look at him and he looks at me."

Two things follow for a pilgrim. First, place matters. The Catechism says that the choice of a favorable place is not a matter of indifference for true prayer, and among such places it names monasteries, which offer the solitude that more intense personal prayer needs, together with pilgrimages and shrines. Second, none of this is reserved to monks and nuns. St. John Paul II wrote at the opening of this millennium that it would be wrong to think ordinary Christians can be content with a shallow prayer, and he pointed the whole Church to the teaching of St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Ávila.

The Church is equally clear about what this silence is not. Her 1989 letter on Christian meditation describes prayer as "a personal, intimate and profound dialogue between man and God", says that it does not rest on technique, and observes that the emptiness God asks of us is the renunciation of selfishness, not a blank mind. A pilgrimage of silence is a pilgrimage toward a Person. The quiet is there so that Jesus Christ can be heard.

The traditions that kept the silence

The Church did not learn silence from a single school. The Catechism traces it to the desert fathers and to the hermits, monks and nuns who have given their time to the praise of God and to intercession for His people. St. Benedict lived three years alone in a cave at Subiaco before he wrote a Rule; Benedict XVI called those years a time of solitude with God. Around 1012 St. Romuald came to the forest of the Casentino in Tuscany, where Camaldoli still joins a monastery to a hermitage of small cells. In 1084 St. Bruno and six companions asked the Bishop of Grenoble for a place of solitude and began the Grande Chartreuse, mother house of the Carthusians. Benedict XVI summed up their life for the monks of Serra San Bruno in Bruno's own phrase: to leave what is fleeting and to grasp what is eternal.

Carmel is the tradition most people have in mind when they speak of contemplative prayer. Benedict XVI recalled that the slopes of Mount Carmel are dotted with caves once used by hermits, that the most famous of these men of God was the prophet Elijah, and that the Carmelite order arose under his inspiration. It was Elijah who, on Horeb, met the Lord not in the wind, the earthquake or the fire but in what one translation renders as "a light silent sound". In sixteenth-century Castile St. Teresa of Ávila and St. John of the Cross reformed that order and wrote books on prayer that the Church has never stopped recommending. Both are Doctors of the Church.

St. Francis belongs here as well. He returned throughout his life to the Carceri, a hermitage in a wooded gorge on Mount Subasio above Assisi, and in the summer of 1224 he withdrew to the mountain of La Verna. St. John Paul II, speaking on that mountain in 1993, said that it was there that the Poor Man of Assisi received the stigmata, as a seal of his constant and passionate search for God. The Franciscan family keeps the feast of the Stigmata on September 17.

One correction is worth making early. The orders best known for silence do not take a vow of silence. The Trappists say so themselves: their vows are stability, obedience and conversion of manners, and silence is a discipline kept for the sake of prayer, with speech permitted when work, community life or spiritual guidance needs it. The Carthusians, whose life is more solitary still, name the same three vows, and their own account of the life includes a weekly walk on which the fathers converse freely.