Travel is ministry. Yes, you read that right: travel is ministry. And there is no clearer connection between travel and ministry than within the context of pilgrimage. The Catholic Church has understood this relationship for centuries and therefore has promoted the concept of and importance of embarking on pilgrimages since the time of Jesus Christ. But it didn’t begin there; Jews also understood the significance of sacred travel, and the Old Testament is replete with stories of pilgrimage. Today, in the twenty-first century, pilgrimages remain a vital ministry and mission of the Christian faith.
But what exactly is “travel ministry”? Let’s first take a look at the word ministry. Ministry is generally defined as the spreading of the Gospel through evangelization, catechesis, and/or fulfillment of the spiritual and physical needs of others. Ministry is the rendering of one’s services to God and people.
Quiltmakers and ministry have a long history together. Missionaries of today and yesteryear have used quilting as a way to preach God’s Word. For the last two centuries, quiltmakers have been gathering in parish basements, rectory halls, and in individual homes to make quilts full of love to spread the Word of God.
These quilts mean many things—warmth and prayers for the sick and abandoned, greetings to newborns, best wishes to newlyweds, fund-raising opportunities for parishes, or messages of hope to those in crises.
In an interview for 60 Minutes in 1987, Sister Thea Bowman, FSPA, told Mike Wallace, “I think the difference between me and some other people is that I am content to do my little bit. Sometimes people think they have to do big things in order to make change. If each one of us would light the candle, we’ve got a tremendous light.”
Remaining true to those words, Sister Thea Bowman crowded a lot of “little bit” into her fifty-two years. In retrospect, much of what she did transcended the adjective little. She made decisions and faced situations that required a great deal of courage and influenced thousands. Part of her “little bit” philosophy was “to try.” Before she died in 1990, she said she hoped her tombstone inscription would read “She tried.” Her wish was later granted.
On the night before he died, Jesus knew his mission was about to be completed. He could return to the Father with a fait accompli. This God-man, however, with his heart of love, wasn’t about to leave us empty-handed. Even though he knew what we were about to do to him, he called together a group of his closest friends and spoke words that were, in effect, his last will and testament.
Though he possessed nothing of value by worldly standards, he left us our greatest treasure. He took bread and wine into his hands and spoke words that would echo down the halls of humankind for all eternity.
As the year begins its slow ascent toward spring, I welcome March—with its release from the bitter cold and a promise of coming crocuses just peeping up from ground level. This time of year always brings with it a sharper realization of how our lives are transformed by God’s cycle of nature and how the blessings of each season drop down like dew on souls that have been tossed and torn by life’s harsh winds.
I was thinking about this phenomenon just the other day as I was leaving the art museum. As I exited the big front door and made my way down the gray granite steps, what I saw (cars and faces, bikes and runners, vendors and a cobalt blue sky) was transformed from everyday ordinariness into an impressionistic painting. It was like I was still in the museum! What a benediction, I thought.
To know me is to love me, and to love me is to accept all my stuff. Just ask any guy who has had the “privilege” of living with me—and all my junk.
Yes, I admit it. I’m a pack rat. I save stuff. My intentions are good: I always think I’m going to need it at some future time that never seems to arrive, or that I’m keeping it until I can give it to just the right person I never seem to meet.
During my recuperation last year I watched a lot of the TV show Clean House, hoping I’d learn a few things. And I did: I learned I sure am glad I’m not like those people, because they have real problems.
Travel is ministry. Yes, you read that right: travel is ministry. And there is no clearer connection between travel and ministry than within the context of pilgrimage. The Catholic Church has understood this relationship for centuries and therefore has promoted the concept of and importance of embarking on pilgrimages since the time of Jesus Christ. But it didn’t begin there; Jews also understood the significance of sacred travel, and the Old Testament is replete with stories of pilgrimage. Today, in the twenty-first century, pilgrimages remain a vital ministry and mission of the Christian faith.
Quiltmakers and ministry have a long history together. Missionaries of today and yesteryear have used quilting as a way to preach God’s Word. For the last two centuries, quiltmakers have been gathering in parish basements, rectory halls, and in individual homes to make quilts full of love to spread the Word of God. 
In an interview for 60 Minutes in 1987, Sister Thea Bowman, FSPA, told Mike Wallace, “I think the difference between me and some other people is that I am content to do my little bit. Sometimes people think they have to do big things in order to make change. If each one of us would light the candle, we’ve got a tremendous light.”
On the night before he died, Jesus knew his mission was about to be completed. He could return to the Father with a fait accompli. This God-man, however, with his heart of love, wasn’t about to leave us empty-handed. Even though he knew what we were about to do to him, he called together a group of his closest friends and spoke words that were, in effect, his last will and testament.
As the year begins its slow ascent toward spring, I welcome March—with its release from the bitter cold and a promise of coming crocuses just peeping up from ground level. This time of year always brings with it a sharper realization of how our lives are transformed by God’s cycle of nature and how the blessings of each season drop down like dew on souls that have been tossed and torn by life’s harsh winds.
