What is it about the human psyche that makes us always want to be somewhere else? For all our talk about mindfulness, being present, and living in the moment, we spend much of our lives in a fantasy world. It doesn’t seem to matter what we’re doing now; regardless of where our bodies may be, our minds are off climbing distant mountains, lying on white beaches, or sipping cappuccino at a Parisian sidewalk cafe.
And then, when we do have the chance to visit one of those destinations, we often spend our time musing about the next stop on our itinerary, or even about our return home. It’s almost as if an unseen cosmic force prods us to keep moving, driving us toward some undefined ultimate destination.
However, this is nothing new. Back in the Middle Ages, Christians in Europe dreamt of going on pilgrimages to the Holy Land. When those fortunate enough to make the trip would pass through villages along the way, the townspeople asked where they were headed. The pilgrims replied, “A la sainte terre—to the Holy Land.” And so they became known as sainte-terre-ers, or saunterers.
Which brings us to our latest entry in the Ethical Lexicon:
Saunter (saun·ter/ sawn-ter) verb
To walk in a slow, relaxed manner, without hurry or effort.
At first blush, the modern definition of the word seems at odds with its origins. Weren’t those medieval saunterers counting the days until they finally arrived in the land that held so much meaning for them? Didn’t they quicken their pace in eagerness to reach their journey’s end?
Not necessarily.
For one thing, it took many months to reach the Holy Land from Europe. Without patience, the trip would be an agonizing exercise in delayed gratification. As a pilgrim, you either practiced patience or you drove yourself mad.
The paradox of acquired impatience
Ironically, the slow pace of life forced people to enjoy taking their time. They savored the trip, amusing themselves by telling stories. This is the backdrop of Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales—although those pilgrims were only traveling from London to Kent. Even so, their mindset is one we’ve lost today. The easy access we have to conveniences and rapid transit renders us incapable of tolerating the slightest delays. The faster we can get places, the less inclined we are to take pleasure in the journey.
And that’s a shame. Because the cliché is undeniably true: The journey really is the destination. If we give ourselves the chance, we will likely profit more from going on our way than we will once we’ve gotten where we’re going.
Indeed, that is the underlying idea of a pilgrimage: not merely to arrive at some place but to undergo a metamorphosis between departure and arrival. It’s a concept with roots going back much farther than medieval Europe.
Change the world literally, one step at a time
What brings about this metamorphosis? Part of it is the experience of visiting new places and meeting new people. But it also depends on which stories we choose to tell along the way.
And the man [Elkanah, father of Samuel the Prophet] was accustomed to go up from his city in each appointed season to worship and bring offerings [at the Tabernacle] in Shiloh.
~Samuel 1:3
Rabbinic tradition records that, in the last days of the Judges, the people of Israel had come to neglect the thrice-yearly pilgrim festivals. But one man, Elkanah, never missed the triannual celebration. Not only that: On each occasion he traveled by a different route, encouraging the fellow travelers he met along the way to set aside their plans and join him on the pilgrimage to Shiloh. Little by little, his efforts bore fruit. Inspired by his example, people in greater and greater numbers took part in the pilgrimage until, after 30 years, the entire nation had resumed the practice.
Think of this ancient narrative as an allegory for the personal journeys that transform us and, in the process, may also transform the people around us. When leaders compose stories that project purpose, values, and ethical idealism, their followers will find inspiration in their vision and example.
The relentless complaints that employees today are unmotivated and disengaged should awaken leaders and potential leaders to recognize the responsibility they hold to forge a culture in which work is not merely a job but truly a higher calling.
Needless to say, employees want to be well-compensated, want job security, work-life balance, a diverse workforce, and the opportunity to utilize their talents and abilities. But more than that, employees long for a sense of purpose and belonging, deeper connection, and the opportunity for personal growth. And those aspirations depend on leaders not merely scrabbling to get to the top, but who are recognized as walking on a meaningful, upward journey.
Like the pilgrims of old, leaders today can model a commitment to a higher purpose through the stories they tell and road they travel. By doing so, they inspire their people to join them in their vision and mission. With such a mindset, you too can be a renaissance leader who guides your people to the promised land of healthy company culture and enduring prosperity.
