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In November, 28 people from the Baltimore-Washington Conference, led by Bishop John Schol and the Rev. Susan Keirn Kester, embarked on a pilgrimage that traced the steps of the fourth missionary journey of the apostle Paul to Athens, Corinth, Malta, Syracuse and on to Rome.

Journal of a Pilgimage
by Melissa Lauber

Athens and Corinth: Crave the mystery

A pilgrimage is an outer expression of an inner journey. On a pilgrim's journey, one's destination is never a place, but a new way of looking at things.

It staggers me how much geography can shape a story and our perception of it. History and faith blend with colors, lights and sounds around us. The scenes that unfold in the Bible are ours to reach out and touch. Olive trees line our walkways. Ancient columns stand witness to centuries of unfolding stories of passion, sacrfice, religious zeal and power.

At Mars Hill on the Acropolis, with the city of Athens spread out 230 feet below us, Bishop John Schol read from Acts 17:22-34, which told the story of Paul standing in the same place speaking to the Greek philosophers. In an odd echo of history, the bishop called upon those present to "crave the mystery" as we serve God in the world.

Down the path from where the bishop spoke, was a large, elaborate gate, the Propylaea. The ancient Greeks did not believe it was necessary to put roofs, or even walls, on the places where they honored their gods.

An ornate passageway and four corner posts marked the holy space. The gate made one aware they were entering upon the sacred. In many ways, our days should be shaped like that gate, drawing us into a geography of grace and challenging us to find God there.

Malta: Where Paul is shipwrecked

There's something about arrivals. Malta is a city of honey-colored ancient stone that lines the harbor in walls, homes and churches. Light and geometry create images that speak to the imagination. Carravagio painted here. And as the ship sails into this ancient landscape, it's possible to imagine history's story unfolding.

Malta is a place of mosaics. A gateway between Africa and Europe, its geography and history of conquest has transformed it into a country where cultures have collided over time and shaped themselves into something new.

Paul is everywhere here. St. Paul's Cathedral gave birth to 365 Roman Catholic churches throughout the small country, one for every day of the year.

We visited the underground, cave-like cell, where Paul was held as a prisoner for three months. We also prayed and sang together in a Baroque cathedral in Mdina that bears his name. The legacy of one man's faith astounds.

Paul swam to Malta. The wood Roman galleon, which carried him and 276 others, was shipwrecked off the coast, after being battered at sea for 14 days. The shipwreck was part of his adventure as he took risks to spread the Gospel. Too often in our lives, we settle for an easy, more comfortable faith. In Paul's journey we're reminded, "Ships in port are safe, but that's not what ships are built for."

In a square in Mdina, we walked over a Maltese cross, created by the Knights of St. John during the Crusades. Its eight points represent the beatitudes and its four arms remind us of the four Christian virtues of justice, prudence, temperance and Christian fortitude, which the poeple at my dinner table promptly translated as "guts or Christian chutzpah."

It's Sicily, bella

As we traveled through the ruins of a Greek ampitheater and the surrounding quarry, where slaves worked and died to create the Roman Empire, God seemed present in small and unusual ways. A cave, hollowed out by centuries of water and decades of slave labor, created an echo chamber. Inside we sang hymns and the hall was made hallowed by the sound.

Our tour guide, Atilio, pointed out a simple Acanthus leaf, growing by the walkway. These leaves, he explained, were the inspiration for Corinthian columns. Their shape gave form to the decorative tops of the columns, which now hold up temples to art, democracy and God throughout the world.

In Syracuse, Archimedes was born in the third century before Christ. On the bus each day we have devotions. Bill Buckman of Kentucky explained how this one man, and his "Eureka" inventiveness altered the course of history. "Give me a lever long enough, and a prop strong enough,," Archimedes said. " I can single-handed move the world."

I imagine something similar might be said of Paul -- give him a moment to proclaim and lives might be transformed.

Bill is a radiation physicist. His sense of the sacred seems to come through reason and science. During devotions, Joyce Buckman read all of us on the bus a children's story about Jesus coming to her house. It's been a very long time since I've been read to. I was amazed at how comforting and special it felt -- almost like a lullaby. In this small moment on the road on Sicily, reason and story merged and blended into prayer.

Ancient Rome: Confronted with history

"Andiamo." In Italian it means "let's move along for this moment together." On our first day in Rome we moved through the ancient city, which was founded 753 years before the birth of Christ. In that history, we toured the Colosseum and wandered through the forum down the Via Sacra where victorious Romans made their triumphant marches.

Along the roadside were the ruins of temples and imperial buildings. We stopped for a moment at the site where the emperor Julius Caesar was carried after being stabbed on the ides of March. We passed through the Arch of Settimio Severo, who conquered Jerusalem in 160 BCE.

Along the way Hugo, our guide, encouraged us to imagine and visualize what would have been. He showed us pictures from a book. One page would have a photo of the ruins. A transperancy could then be laid over the photo to show you what the site looked like in all its grandeur.

Sometimes, I thought, it would be nice if our lives came with such overlays. We could see an image of ourselves as we are and then, with the flip of a page, see clearly what God is calling us to do and be.

At the end of this triumphant road, next to the Curia, where the Roman senators met, was the prison where Paul spent his final days. It's a dank, underground room that now holds an altar and the opening to a small well from which, the Bible says, Paul baptized his jailors.

In the mids of the former grandeur of Rome, one's mind automatically turns to power and glory. In Paul's prison cell, power and glory seem to mean something very different.

Christian Rome: Glory reigns

There may be a few things on earth more beautiful -- but I wouldn't know how to name or rank them. The Sistine Chapel, whose vault was painted by Michelangelo when he was 33 years old, is one of the best things an artist every created.

Michelangelo was a sculptor. He was forced by the pope to take this commission and spent four years, from 1508 to 1513, contorted and emotionally torn as he crafted a masterpiece. Michelangelo's mission was a simple one -- to make manifest the beauty of God.

This should probably be all of our mission -- those with gifts of every kind, laboring to bring the beauty and love of God to life where we are.

Beauty of this kind is present in St. Peter's Basilica, the largest cathedral in the world. Michelangelo designed the dome of St. Peter's. His Pieta, which feels like grace come to life in marble, sits by the entrance.

Sometimes I worry that the church has lost its inclination toward beauty. In history, church buildings were designed and made to reflect the Kingdom of God. One entered and every piece of architecture, furniture and decor were crafted to draw you into the presence of God. The richness of the symbolism almost made the liturgy secondary.

Today, we've lost some of that creative spirit that draws our imagination into the making and being of church. It's a loss we should consider acting upon.

The Roman Catholic Church has declared this to be the year of Paul to commemorate the 2000th year of his birth. When one enters the Basilica of St. Paul, one passes through a sacred door, a porta santia, which marks the merging of time and space with the holy.

There is a similar porta santia at St. Peter's, which is opened by the pope every 25 years, for one year.

Viewing the Sistine Chapel, one can't help but be struck how it represented the first time in history that an artist took it upon himself to express his soul in his work, rather than just following the forms of tradition or the wishes of a patron. As we pass through the porta santia of our lives, I think we might do well to claim some of the beauty God promises and enhance it with our gifts.

There are masterpieces yet to be created. Paul tells us this, so does Christ. In the name of God, it may be time to get started.

Pompeii: Imagination unearthed

On Aug. 24, in the year 79 AD, Mount Vesuvius erupted. Ash began to fall on the 8,000-year-old city of Pompeii, which was home to more than 20,000 people. Before two days had passed, more than 2,000 people were killed by the heat and deadly fumes and the city was buried in volcanic ash.

In 1764, by accident, remnants of the ancient city were unearthed. Archeologists considered it a miracle as they dug into the preserved homes, theaters, libraries, temples and artifacts of daily life at the beginning of the first millenium.

Walking along the streets of Pompei, one can see a mosaic of a bird stealing a string of beads at the House of the Faun, with a statue of a man dancing still the house's foyer. Bodies are preseerved in their postures of death, some reeling with agony, one kneeling and blockng his face from the fumes, in what seems like an attitude of prayer -- frozen forever. Ancient stepping stones help people cross the muddy streets.

These stepping stones, Bishop John Schol pointed out, are spaced to allow for the wheels of chariots to pass between them. The wheel-span of the chariots is based on the width of the hindquarters of two horses standing side-by-side. More than 1,500 years later in the United States, the width of railroad tracks is consistent with this measurement. Iron horses mimic their ancient counterparts -- and the more things change . . .

Our guide, Antonio, unlocked the secrets of the city, revealing ancient shops, temples, brothels, bars and civic spaces.

He pointed out the white stones that lined the streets. These, he explained, were set out strategically by city leaders to reflect the moonlight and provide light to those who might stumble in the dark.

This seemed an apt metaphore for Christians today, who are called to be out in the world, reflecting the light of Christ to illuminate the darkness for others.

On the way back to the boat, the bishop led the people on the bus in prayer, that "we might be the Gospel." As we begin our journey homeward, this feels like an apt way to honor Paul's legacy -- to be present, and to shine, bearing witness to the glory of God.