My true home was to be found in Christ Jesus

In Lent 2025, I set out on pilgrimage along the Via Francigena, the medieval trail used by pilgrims who make their way between Canterbury and Rome. I had been there before. In July 2022, I had spent a week at a theological conference in Oxford. The parish where I had been serving at the time had given me a gift that made it possible to spend some additional time in the United Kingdom. I had recently reread The Canterbury Tales and was enthralled with the idea of pilgrimage. A friend had also recently gifted me a book about medieval pilgrimage sites in England, which described how central they were to the spiritual life of that world. I wanted to understand what had been so captivating to these medieval pilgrims about these sites and trails.

I eventually decided that I would make my way to Canterbury Cathedral after the conference. I wanted to take in the life of the mother church of our Communion and to walk part of the Via Francigena. The only problem was that the day after I arrived in Canterbury, I fell ill with Covid. There was no way I could walk the trail. Eventually, I was able to spend some time around the cathedral, and I wandered through the ruins of St. Augustine’s Abbey, but I left for home feeling rather thwarted.

Three years later, a lot had changed in my life, including a move to Toronto from Halifax and settling into a new parish. I had spent 20 years in Halifax and for some time had felt a call to move further afield, but I had never taken the leap until now. Frankly, I did not want to leave home, but I also knew I needed a change. Now, after all the changes, I knew that I needed to take some time to pray. I also needed to try that pilgrimage route again. I didn’t know why I wanted to go back to Canterbury, nor did I know what I would find there, but in my heart, it seemed like there was unfinished business there.

On this second trip, I spent my first few days taking in the life of the cathedral, attending the daily offices, the daily Eucharist, sitting alone in the crypt, talking with the clergy. The rhythm and stability brought me back to myself after a very busy few months, and I was surprised to discover how familiar the cathedral suddenly seemed: it felt like home.

Eventually, I set out along the Via Francigena. I had only a week, so Rome was not on the itinerary, but I wanted to go as far as I could towards Dover and the English Channel. I was excited to see what I would discover. I found myself walking through the old city and suburbs, dodging speeding cars along old Roman roads and enjoying the tranquility of crossing farmers’ fields. It seemed like an analogy for life: moments of uncertainty followed by peace and serenity. I was surprised to discover that it, too, seemed oddly familiar and much like home, even though I had not been there before.

Of course, the Scriptures are filled with stories of pilgrimage, a desire to return home or to find a home, a place that is safe and familiar. The Old Testament, for instance, tells us about the People of God longing to find or return to a Promised Land, and in the New Testament, the Book of Revelation speaks of the New Jerusalem, a heavenly city where God will dwell with his people and we with God. Indeed, the life of God is often described in terms of pilgrimage: God sends the Son into this world, who, after a journey through suffering and death, returns home to heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father. There is also, of course, the descent of the Spirit, who comes to bring order to chaos, to guide us into all truth and lead us home.

How could Canterbury Cathedral or the Via Francengina feel like home to me, though? I was in a strange land. Initially, I thought it was because I had been to the cathedral before, and so its surroundings felt somewhat familiar. However, I had never walked the Via Francengina. It made no sense.

A few days later, while sitting at Choral Evensong back at Canterbury Cathedral, praying and reflecting on that day’s journey, it finally occurred to me: it was not the building or the surroundings that made me feel like I was at home. Rather, it was the spiritual life of the cathedral: her rhythm of daily prayer, the Scripture, the worship and the music, and knowing that I was part of nearly a millennium of pilgrims, both past and present, who had spent time in this holy place seeking after God. I felt at home with souls who, like me, were seeking to know Jesus and to make their way home to the kingdom of God; who, also like me, were seeking special graces in these holy sites where grace had been found before. My true home was to be found in Christ Jesus. Sometimes, it seems, you have to leave home in order to find home.

You don’t have to travel to Canterbury to make a pilgrimage home. The season of Lent is a spiritual pilgrimage home into the life of God that ends with the cross and the resurrection. The spiritual disciplines of “self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, and by reading and meditating on the word of God” (see page 282 of the BAS) are the means of that pilgrimage – the way in which we make our way home to Jesus. At Canterbury I found that my true home is a life lived with Jesus Christ. I hope you will find the same this Lent and make your way home to him.