Looking back on the first year of Berlin Pilgrims: what began as random walks grew into community and lessons learned in leading together.
Dear Pilgrims,
On 27 December 2025, we set out on a familiar path.
Exactly one year earlier, a small group of strangers had met for the very first Berlin Pilgrims hike. Back then, none of us knew each other.
There was uncertainty in the air, especially for me. Was everything planned well enough? What if something went wrong? Would anyone even show up?
One year later, we walked the same route again. What has now become a small tradition.
There were new faces, but also some who had been there from the beginning – people who, over time, had become friends.
The weather had not improved at all. Cold, foggy, icy ground in the morning. A few people cancelled because of it. Still, 22 of us were walking together.
At a small stretch of shoreline overlooking the River Havel, I spoke to the group about the beginning of a new year – about expectations, resolutions, and the pressure that often comes with them. I shared a simple thought: that it can be okay not to have a plan yet.
That the time “between the years” is a space in itself and that our society struggles badly with such in-between moments. We like clarity, direction, control. But life does not always offer that. And neither does the path.
Afterwards, we continued walking in silence along the river. The water pushed gently against the shore, moving thin layers of ice, creating a quiet, almost musical sound.
Later, one of the pilgrims came up to me and said: “That’s exactly what I needed to hear today. It took some of the pressure away.”
That moment stayed with me. For that alone, it was worth putting on my hiking boots again, taking the S-Bahn early in the morning, and heading out into the uncertainty, in wind and weather.
What a year of walking revealed
Looking back, this year has been full of such moments.
There were many conversations with pilgrims who shared their burdens, worries and questions. And there were others who spoke of new beginnings in their lives.
This, too, is pilgrimage.
It is not only about routes and distances, about counting kilometres until the next break.
We also walk inward. We ask: Who am I? What do I need? Where am I going? Each person answers these questions differently – and yet we are connected by the shared act of searching.
I had not expected this. In the beginning, my plan for 2025 was modest: three or four day-long pilgrim hikes.
Instead, there were thirty. The community grew to more than 300 people. Wherever I invited people to walk, there were always a few who came.
Our paths led us through national parks and nature reserves, through forests, fields and mountains, along lakes and rivers.
In November, a small group walked for two weeks on pilgrimage to Rome along the Franciscan Way – an experience that left a deep mark on me through nature, encounters and sacred places.
Despite constantly changing constellations, one thing remained remarkably stable: the atmosphere. Warmth. Openness. A sense of being welcome. Pilgrims supporting one another, radiating calm. What a blessing.
Lessons from my own pilgrimage
This year was not without its inner struggles for me.
After the first successful walks, I entered a quiet crisis.
The growing interest was overwhelming. Could I keep “delivering” meaningful experiences? Would I begin to enjoy the attention too much? For whom was I really doing this – for myself, for others, for God?
I did what has often helped me most: I went on pilgrimage myself.
Two weeks alone on the Camino in Switzerland. I stayed in monasteries, parish halls, and with pastors. I walked, prayed, listened, and spoke with people along the way. Day by day, I examined my faith and my motivation.
Slowly, clarity returned. I realised that I am on the right path when God and people remain at the centre – not my goals, not my ego. Pilgrimage grounded me again. I returned with renewed energy and a deeper sense of humility.
I also learned to let go of control. To step back at times. To allow others to lead. To experiment. It felt more natural, more secure, not to manage everything.
The understanding of leadership shaped by Francis of Assisi – and ultimately by Jesus himself – as service rather than self-assertion, has deeply influenced how I walk with others.
Why Berlin Pilgrims matters
I started Berlin Pilgrims because pilgrimage had been a source of life for me, and I wanted to share that. What I did not anticipate was how deeply it would resonate.
There is a real longing for silence amid the noise of the world and our own lives. For meaning and orientation in the face of endless options and promises. For community and friendship beyond surface-level encounters. For real experiences instead of fast consumption.
With us, people are allowed to come as they are. With their worries and struggles. Without performance or optimisation. Simply being. And that alone can be a quiet sign of hope.
Gratitude for every step
I am deeply grateful.
Grateful to God, who brought people together through chance encounters, online platforms and word of mouth. Grateful for the strength to keep setting out again, to open spaces where people can simply be.
And grateful to all who trusted me this past year, whose curiosity and courage won out, who got up early on Saturdays to walk with strangers and reflect on life.
Thank you for your patience with me, for honest feedback, for every encouraging word and gesture.
We walked together. We were silent, laughed, cried, celebrated and complained. We were simply human.
Looking ahead to 2026
Looking ahead to 2026, I feel both anticipation and humility.
I want to invite new people and organisations into the practice of pilgrimage and explore new paths. At the same time, I want to be careful not to lose what matters most: the atmosphere of attentiveness, mutual care and inner depth.
Alongside day walks, I hope to offer pilgrim weekends – spaces for deeper experience without the commitment of long journeys. Longer pilgrimages will also remain part of the path: two weeks in Spain in April and again in October.
Personally, I want to keep discovering what pilgrimage can hold: how it can touch people more deeply, what new connections and relationships might emerge.
This means stepping into the unknown again and again, facing my own fears and limitations. That is not always easy.
But I trust that I can only fall into God’s hands – and that I am carried by a growing community, walking together, step by step.
Buen Camino,
Alexander
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