I walk. I walk pretty much every day. Those walks provide me with moments of reflection and prayer. They refresh and energize me. I have walked for causes: the CROP Walk, the Martin Luther King Walk. And, as a Catholic, I have done my share of ritual walking. From making my way down the aisle of the church to begin Mass to setting out for pilgrimage destinations, I have walked, and those walks have been my prayer.

But, there is one walking experience that stands out in my memory.

A few years ago, I happened to be in Pujili, Ecuador. It is a small city, high in the Andes. We were there for the Catholic feast of Corpus Christi. Now that celebration often means a procession. But, my history with Corpus Christi has been pretty tame. We walk around the block, through the parking lot, and end in the church. We sing our hymns, pray our prayers, and we are done in less than a half hour.

When I was invited to participate in Pujili’s Corpus Christi celebration, I quickly said “yes.” As soon as the Mass in the church ended, the procession began. Now, mind you, I was in a city I had passed through on several occasions. I recognized some of the sights. I certainly knew what the church looked like.

But, then we started down the hill from the church. We meandered through the city streets, stopping for brief prayers at shrines decorated with mountains of fresh flowers. A band and a choir accompanied us. After the third shrine, with its song and prayer, I thought we would be turned around towards the church. But, no, we continued. We stopped before a tavern, at the local soccer field, through the market (which was still up and running at that hour), and in front of the city hall.

People weaved in and out. Dogs were underfoot. Evening started to fall. Folks who had done this every year were ready to light candles for the rest of the route. I wasn’t so smart. I was surrounded by people, most of whom didn’t speak my language. I had some Spanish and absolutely no Quechuan. I couldn’t ask the questions, where are we going and when will it end?

There was nothing to do but walk in the twilight. And trust the community. Trust that together we would walk in faith and arrive safely home. Twenty little shrines and two hours later, we did just that.

For most Christians, we will be celebrating Palm Sunday this weekend. Many of us will pick up our palm branches when we come to church and remember Jesus’ last entrance into Jerusalem. When I do that tonight and tomorrow, I hope I walk with the faith I rediscovered that night in Pujili. I hope we all walk, whatever darkness we might find in our lives or in our world, in the bright faith that our God offers us, sustained by a community that walks alongside us in loving prayer.

The Rev. Glenn McCreary, St. Boniface Catholic Parish, 326 Washington Blvd.