By Lyn Zahorik
Special to The Message
Editor’s Note: Evansville’s All Saints Catholic Parish and Mt. Olive Galilee Baptist Church led a human rights pilgrimage to Henning and Memphis, Tennessee, in April. This was the group’s fourth pilgrimage. Lyn Zahorik joined the group and provided the following reflection.
In April, Evansville’s All Saints Catholic Parish and Mt. Olive Galilee Baptist Church led a human rights pilgrimage to Henning and Memphis, Tennessee. This was the group’s fourth pilgrimage.
I had the privilege of joining the recent Peace and Justice Pilgrimage sponsored by All Saints Parish and Mt. Olive Galilee Baptist Church. I’m certain I won the unofficial award for “Person Who Traveled the Furthest,” having come from Oshkosh, Wisconsin, where I am the director for spiritual engagement for two parishes. My niece, Pamela — All Saints parishioner and my favorite co-conspirator — invited me along for the journey.
Back home in the Fox River Valley, the Black community is small. I thought we were an integrated community. I truly did. But this pilgrimage revealed how much of my understanding came from a few tidy chapters in a history book — not from lived truth. My mind and heart were far less integrated than I ever realized.
I once thought it was lovely that the Black community had their own day to visit the zoo — until I learned that Thursdays were cage-cleaning days, when the animals were hidden away and the air was thick with the stench of waste. I once thought it was good that Black workers were paid with checks — until I learned those checks were useless, because no bank would allow them through the door.
The Civil Rights Museum tore at my heart. In the early 1960s, I marched with Father Jim Groppi in Milwaukee, believing I understood the struggle from the photos and news clips I’d seen. But this trip put flesh on those memories. It put breath in them. It put weight on my shoulders.
I have always admired Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., but standing near the spot where he was assassinated, learning that he stepped onto that balcony while sick, exhausted and still choosing to show up for justice — deepened that admiration into something almost reverent.
The pilgrimage was heavy. It was holy. It rearranged something inside me.
But God, in his mischievous mercy, ended my journey with a wink.
On our final day, we visited the Rock and Soul Hall of Fame. Rock is not exactly my spiritual language, but Starbucks is — so after a quick tour of the exhibits, I made a beeline for the Starbucks patio across the street. As I sat there with my chai, letting the weight of the week settle, a parade suddenly appeared: the “Africa in April Diversity Parade”, bright and alive and full of joy. It felt like God whispering, “See? Justice has a rhythm too.”
To the people of All Saints and Mt. Olive (several of which I had the privilege to converse with on the trip), thank you for investing your time, talent and treasure in Brenda (Meyer) and her Justice Ministry Planning Team. You are walking in the footsteps of Jesus, and you invited me to walk with you.
And yes, as a student of art icons, I was fascinated by the recent addition to your chapel. “I’ve been there, done that, and my niece bought me the T-shirt!” I will wear it proudly, as a reminder to myself and to anyone who reads it: Do not be afraid of being a saint.