Every time we set out on the road together—whether on the sunbaked paths of the U.S./Mexico borderlands or the cobbled way of the Camino de Santiago—we are doing more than walking.

We are engaging in a sacred practice.

We are taking part in an ancient tradition that has long shaped the spiritual lives of seekers and prophets alike. But beyond prayer and personal growth, we are also participating in something intensely public and profoundly theological.

Let’s take a moment to explore what that means.

What is Public Theology?

Public theology is the way our faith speaks not just in churches or cathedrals, but in the world—out in the streets, on the border, in neighborhoods, and even in courtrooms and congressional halls. It’s when our spiritual values are expressed in how we act, serve, and stand with others in public life. Public theology asks: What does love look like in the face of injustice? How do we embody compassion and truth in systems of exclusion or violence?

Public theology isn’t just about words—it’s about practice. It’s about how we live our beliefs in the real world. That’s where pilgrimage comes in.

Pilgrimage Is More Than A Walk

Many of us come to a pilgrimage with hopes for renewal. We carry questions, grief, longings, or a need for healing. But pilgrimage is not just a personal retreat. It’s a journey that gets us proximate to the pain we are often taught NOT to see. It confronts us with the very real suffering of the world—and invites us to respond.

Remember those old handheld AM radios? I used to have a little blue one I’d sneak into bed with me at night so I could listen to Giants and Warriors games if they ran past my bedtime. To make out what the announcers were saying, I’d have to turn the tiny knob so the static would fade and the voices would grow clear.

I often describe Pilgrimage as intentionally tuning into the frequency of God that is always humming below the surface of the “static” of our busy lives, but that we rarely take the time to tune into. When we tune into that frequency, we begin to hear more clearly the voice within ourselves, our neighbors, and the Divine who has been there all along.

In his book The Art of Pilgrimage, Phil Cousineau reminds us that true pilgrimage involves intention, transformation, and often, discomfort. It’s not about arriving quickly or easily, but about being shaped by what (and who) we encounter along the way.

Walking the Camino, we remember the footsteps of the “cloud of witnesses" who have walked before us over the past 1000 years. When we walk along the U.S./Mexico border, we move alongside the stories of migrants and families seeking safety and dignity.

These journeys are filled with prayer, silence, solidarity—and protest. They become spaces where the spiritual meets the political, where prayer meets justice.

Pilgrimage as Public Witness

César Chávez, the great labor leader and Catholic activist, once led a 300-mile pilgrimage from Delano to Sacramento. It was a walk of penance, prayer, and protest—an act of public theology. He believed the farmworkers’ suffering was not just a political issue but a spiritual one. Their dignity, like ours, was sacred.

That march wasn’t just symbolic. It moved hearts. It changed laws. It reminded the world that walking with the suffering is a powerful form of proclamation.

Likewise, when we walk the borderlands today, we do so with a similar spirit. We walk to remember those who have died crossing. We walk to demand justice for the displaced. We walk to learn from local communities and to call attention to policies that dehumanize. Each step becomes a prayer—and a statement.

The Border as a Sacred Space

Many people think of pilgrimage sites as distant holy places: Rome, Jerusalem, Santiago. But sacred ground can be found where God’s people suffer and struggle for life. The U.S./Mexico border is one such place. It’s a site of hospitality, grief, violence, hope, and resilience.

When we gather in vigil near a border wall, when we offer water in the desert, or hear testimonies of families torn apart by policies—we are engaging in public theology. These are embodied ways of saying: *These lives matter. This land is sacred. This suffering is not invisible to God—or to us.*

We believe God is present not only in churches but also in the dust of the migrant trail, in the calloused feet of seekers, and in the whispered prayers of the weary. Our presence there is part of the Gospel.

Camino de Santiago: An Inner and Outer Journey

The Camino de Santiago is often framed as a profoundly personal journey—and it is. But it also shapes how we reenter the world. Along the Way, we experience simplicity, community, and interdependence. We carry only what we need. We listen more. We reflect deeply. Walk at our own pace.

The Camino teaches us that the spiritual life isn’t separate from everyday life. What we learn while walking—about justice, generosity, and humility—returns with us to our neighborhoods and workplaces. It’s not just a spiritual vacation. It’s formation for a more compassionate public life.

Pilgrimage, when practiced intentionally, connects the inward journey of the heart with the outward work of justice.

Becoming a Pilgrim People

In both sacred traditions and social movements, pilgrimage has always been about more than movement. It’s about meaning. About letting ourselves be changed by the journey—and becoming co-creators of a more just world.

So, as we look ahead to upcoming border pilgrimages and Camino journeys, we ask the questions:

What am I walking toward?
Who am I walking with?
How will this journey change how I live?

Pilgrimage is not an escape from the world—it’s a deeper immersion into it. And together, we’re learning that every step can speak of healing, repentance, and solidarity.

As we journey home to our hearts (true self), we trust we will better contribute to a society where everyone has a home.

Buen Camino!

Pilgrimage as Public Theology