Prayer walks

Spiritual Life, Spring 2002 by Hurzeler, Richard

SINCE I HAVE RETIRED FROM TEACHING, one of my forms of recreation is a daily walk where I cover some two to three miles. The walk is a form of physical activity in which I stretch and tone the muscles of my body. It does, at times, allow for the release of personal and interpersonal tensions. Moving my limbs and striding in the relative quiet is a nice compliment to the hours I spend with my infant granddaughter inside. I do, however, get out for short trips with her as I push the stroller, an activity we both enjoy.

The Time of the Spirit

But the walk I take alone is often a time of building up of spiritual fortitude. In the household with my wife, daughter, and grandchild, there are occasions for labor, interactions, and the sharing of hopes and struggles. The walk is a time for solitude and a change of scenery. It is a great time to look and listen and let the Spirit of God enter where he will. I can claim no bolts of lightning, no startling apparitions, nor any grandiose theological insights from such exercises. Yet in some subtle ways, the Spirit touches my life and gives me strength to continue the journey.

Walking is a routine that has some notable precursors. No bicycles, carriages, and planes were available to Joseph and Mary. A good part of their saintly lives was spent placing one foot in front of the other. Mother Teresa reminds us that "Prayer is in all things, in all gestures."1 Of course, Jesus, the God-Man, the Center Point of all Christians, walked throughout his life's journey. One wonders what conversations he had with the Father and the Spirit as he wended his way through old Palestine.

Praise and Thanks

As I walk through residential streets and see verdant lawns and splendid houses, I realize the source of all this beauty is the Creator.

Whether they realize it or not, those living there are instruments of God. I pass one house where the total effect is serenity. I feel a mood of peace while watching a grassy slope descend to a creek bottom. A canopy of majestic trees frames this still image. One day I see an elderly man out there meticulously picking up twigs. "You are meticulous," I say. He looks at me quizzically and manages a half smile. He says nothing. I nod and move on. Then I think I may have labeled him and try a quick prayer inside of myself. A week later I see him out again. I compliment him on the beauty of the place. He warms up with a full smile and tells me that it is a never-ending task. We talk a little then and on subsequent occasions. Now and then I pray silently for him and his family whom I've never met.

Part of my strolling is through neighborhoods of modest means. Here one can admire simple touches of life. One yard has a single rose plant while another has a scattering of toys. Welcome signs and pets in the yard are reminders of people being around and the presence of all God's creatures. As people emerge from these types of houses, I pray for them. Sometimes people with little income give what they can to others. In my experience they smile more, chat with passersby more, and seem to make real sacrifices for their children. But some do reflect the pains and pressures of life. From time to time I give thanks for the blessings and try to pray for the struggles.

Since I do not always walk at the same time every day or night because of family commitments, I see the surroundings in a variety of ways. It is easier to be grateful to God for wonderful sunsets and towering oak trees, and more of a sacrifice when it is cold, wet, and rainy. And sometimes when I carry the frustrations of the day around with me, I seem to block out God's presence. But somehow, during the course of the walk, I sense there is Someone, Some Power holding this world together. God is in control.

Violent Voices

The tranquility of a stroll can be jolted by sudden interruptions and harsh noises. Some houses are guarded by fierce dogs who emit sharp yelps from fenced yards. They are posted to keep watch over their master's resources. I notice that these canines tend to be overweight, so possibly my passing by allows them a little exercise. Rarely does anyone emerge from these houses. I think about those who are inside or absent and try to pray for their needs as God perceives them.

More startling are the roaring vehicles that throttle down quiet streets without warning. I quickly step on the curb as a sportscar trumpets by. I glance at the driver and see what appears to be a youthful but tense face. At certain hours of the day the visages of drivers in vans, cars, and trucks all carry one message-stress. Maybe they harbor a broken relationship or a tough day at work. Could that person be seriously sick or feel terribly alone? God only knows. When I'm at my spiritual best, I pray God's blessings for all of them. Sometimes it's hard. They disrupt my peace and seem to be so uncaring, but I have to remember there are times when I feel the way they look. Right now, but for the grace of God, I could be in their shoes. These words from Mother Teresa sum up the opportunity: