A long walk into the unknown

by Diocese of Des Moines | December 18, 2023

The following reflection by Father Tim Fitzgerald was shared at "The Lessons, Carols, and Reflections of Christmas" event Dec. 17 at St. Ambrose Cathedral in Des Moines, Iowa. The reflection was part of a concerty by Umeri, the Drake University alumni choir under the direction of Aimee Beckmann-Collier.

“A long walk into the unknown.”

It could be said of the immigrants and refugees and exiles and survivors in our day, of the scattered people and shattered households of Ukraine; said of the Syrians and the Afghans coming to Polk County, Iowa, or of the Burmese and Sudanese, the Congolese and Eritreans, the Vietnamese or Cambodians or Mongs here before them:

looking for safety and shelter, for schools and jobs,

for a future they can survive.

We encounter masses in every part of the earth likewise on the move—

terrifying escapes and journeys,

fleeing for their lives,

risking all for their children.

 

“A long walk into the unknown.”

It was a journalist’s phrase, last month, about an old man and his household fleeing northern Gaza, hoping to survive.

An apt description too for so many journeys…

of the newlywed couple setting out together,

of the household whose newborn has special needs,

of the aged or the infirm and their companions,

of the spouse who is terminally ill.

 

It describes, too, the epic journey of Abraham and Sarah and nephew Lot,

with their belongings,

with the people they owned,

with the livestock and all.

Leaving behind country and clan and culture, like the refugees in our midst.

They had no idea where they were going, how the journey would unfold. 

They could not see or imagine what it would entail.

But here, in Abraham and Sarah, our long, slow dance with God begins—

with a vague invitation,

an ill-defined promise,

the call to be partner and companion,

a call

and

a response in faith.

By the steadfast mercy of God and our elders’ response in faith, this nomadic family endured.

Both famine and plenty would come to them,

freedom and slavery,

peacetime and war,

hatreds that remain

and love that stirs us still.

And in the years of the Exile, 

when this people was without hope,

the prophet speaks of a future and of an anointed leader, 

of that steadfast call to be partner and companion, 

the resolute promise to be with you, 

as with those aged travelers so long ago.

To begin, once again, a long walk into the unknown.

Not all journeys end well, not all refugees thrive or escape death.

Still, each crossing or passage or escape, simple or tragic, embodies a call:

a longing to begin anew,

a summons toward a better place and future,

a new start both arduous and full of hope.

And the journey, each journey, solicits a response:

Step out in faith. I will walk with you.

And what of the journey we are on?

What of the households and clans on the road, what of our call to accompany them?

What will we learn from these fellow travelers with us?

These displaced and immigrants and refugees and exiles teach us

to step out in faith,

to remember the promise that we are never alone,

to accompany and lean on each other,

to believe in and receive the impossible.

Their strength and endurance,

their faith and hope,

their trust in what is yet unseen—

It is all worthy of Abraham and Sarah and nephew Lot,

who heard a call and set out in faith,

not knowing where to,

unsure how this journey will unfold,

trusting that God our surprising God journeys with them,

journeys with us.