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I would like to introduce a Korean folk song. The title is Wanderer, and it goes like this:
“Life is a journey of a sojourner. Where did we come from, and where are we going? Like drifting clouds, a path I wander.”
It is quite poetic and, at the same time, leaves us with a lingering thought.

As we think of our life, from our birth, we are almost thrown into the world. No one knows what we are born into, and we do not have any choice in our preferences. Once we are born, we strive to survive and hopefully thrive. Like someone plunged into water, at first it is hard even to float, but then we begin to move toward somewhere.

This journey includes continuing challenges—learning, gaining, obtaining, competing. Sometimes we fail, sometimes we succeed. Sometimes we move forward, sometimes we fall back. Sometimes we stick with what we planned, and sometimes we are pushed onto an unknown path.

There are also countless encounters with other people. Sometimes these develop into meaningful relationships; sometimes they fade away. Some people offer love and care, while others bring pain and suffering.

Then we leave this life. Just as with our birth, we do not know where we are going. At some point, we may stumble upon deeper questions: What is the purpose of life? Who am I?

Many have tried to define the main drives of human life. Freud suggested that the will to pleasure is our primary motivation. Adler proposed that it is the will to power and control. As we look around, these ideas seem to reflect what many people pursue.

Yet we also know that, at a certain point, pleasure and power lose their meaning. Accomplishments and possessions fade away like sand slipping through our fingers—especially in the face of illness, aging, and death, whether our own or that of someone close to us. Life challenges us to look deeper, even beyond suffering and despair.

Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist, philosopher, and Holocaust survivor, devoted his life to exploring meaning in the midst of suffering. He proposed that the search for meaning is the fundamental essence of human existence. When people fail to find meaning, they often fill the emptiness with power, materialism, obsessions, or compulsions.

So what is the meaning of life for us?

Eastern wisdom often emphasizes living each moment fully. A famous line from a Chinese poet says, “What is life? Smiling without answering, the heart remains at ease.” A Buddhist monk once said, “Do not ask why we live or how we should live. There is no fixed rule or formula. We simply live, adapting to the world because it is good.”

Perhaps simply being present and fully engaged in each moment is a wise way to live. Yet we also sense that life is not random—it has direction. When we are aligned with that direction, doubt and emptiness begin to fade, and we recognize that we are where we are meant to be.

Often, we learn this not from theories, but from people who speak from lived experience. The wisdom of life is not speculation; it is the fruit of a lived journey. Those who take risks, explore unknown paths, endure failure, and wrestle with deep questions often discover what truly endures.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks about where he is going and where his followers are to follow. This takes place during the Last Supper, just before his crucifixion—his final teachings and promises to his disciples.

At first glance, his words may seem abstract, but within the broader message of his life, they become clearer. First, Jesus tells them where he is going—to the Father’s home. Second, he reveals who God is, and who he himself is.

Jesus was deeply united with the Father and revealed God’s love and mercy. The God he showed was not merely one who demands reverence or judges moral behavior, but one known through relationship. Jesus embodied and expressed this love fully and faithfully.

Near the end of his earthly mission, Jesus makes it clear that these truths are not only about him, but about his followers. Those who remain in him will share in his destination with God. Those who keep his commandments will reflect him, just as he reflects the Father.

In the end, love brings us together, unites us, and allows us to shine with the goodness of God in our own unique ways.

“Life is a journey of a sojourner… Where did we come from, and where are we going?”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus responds to this restless question: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”

As we enter into relationship with Jesus, the path is no longer hidden. Our questions are not ignored, and life no longer feels empty. We may imagine life as drifting clouds—uncertain and without direction—but Jesus gently reminds us: we are not drifting; we are being led.

Like Thomas, we may ask, “How can we know the way?” In moments of confusion, grief, or transition, Jesus answers clearly: “I am the way.”

He gave his whole self—loving, caring, forgiving in both word and action. The way is not merely a set of teachings or ideas, but a relationship.

There are many ways we grow in that relationship: through nature, Scripture, the Church, and our relationships with one another. As we recognize Jesus in our experience, we draw closer to him. And as we draw closer, we begin to reflect him to others.

The meaning of life is not something we solve from a distance. It is something we grow into by walking with Christ—step by step, day by day.

So perhaps the question is not only, “Where are we going?” but also, “Who are we walking with?”

If we walk alone, life may indeed feel like drifting clouds. But if we walk with Christ, even uncertainty has direction, suffering has meaning, and death is not the end.

This is where our question finds its deepest answer.

Yes, we are sojourners. Yes, life is a journey. But we are not lost. We come from God, and we are going to God. And in Jesus, the Way is already before us.

 

Fr. James