The Way”: a successful, if tightly-wound, ophthalmologist who has a strained relationship with his free-spirited son Daniel (Emilio Estevez, Sheen’s actual son, who also wrote and directed the film). When Daniel dies in an accident while walking the famed Camino de Santiago, Tom decides to complete the pilgrimage in his stead, spreading his son’s ashes along the way. He’s in his seventies, he doesn’t know the route, and the extent of his fitness routines are golf outings that he mostly spends in the cart. In other words, it’s not a logical choice. But grief has its own logic. When Henri (Tchéky Karyo), a French policeman who knows the Camino well, points out the difficulties Tom will face, Tom insists this is something he has to do for his son. “You walk the way for yourself,” Henri cautions. “Only for yourself.”

How can something so spiritual, meant to focus your attention outwards towards God be “for” you? But there is wisdom in Henri’s advice. Every pilgrim on the Camino is taking an individual journey with God, carrying unique questions and hopes, longing for a private grace. You can’t walk the Camino for someone else, because the revelations you find along the way are so deeply personal. But that doesn’t mean you do it alone, as Tom discovers. Although he starts out solo, and does his best to push others away, a small, close group of fellow pilgrims gather around him. Each of them has their reasons: Joost (Yorick van Wageningen) says he wants to lose weight, Sarah (Deborah Kara Unger) says she wants to quit smoking, and Jack (James Nesbitt) is hoping to cure his writer’s block. But as the journey progresses all four discover that what they’re really searching for is healing, each in their own way. Estevez cited “The Wizard of Oz” as an influence on the film, and you can see it here: a journey that reveals the deepest desires of the heart. Advertisement. I found it especially poignant to watch “The Way” during Lent. Tom says he wants to honor his son, but his journey seems more like penance. He regrets the distance between them and, perhaps, a lifetime spent on focusing on the safe and the practical. In the early stages of the pilgrimage he walks relentlessly, head down, silent as a stone, often rushing ahead so he can spread Daniel’s ashes without his fellow travelers seeing. While he never admits as much, the pilgrimage is a punishment, one he believes he deserves. We all recognize that feeling: Sometimes there’s relief in self-flagellation. But sometimes we wallow in penance because it’s easier than laying our burdens down and moving forward. That would require not only acknowledging our sins, but learning from them, which would require radically changing our lives. During Lent, we are called through death to new life. In “The Way” that journey becomes literal: Out of grief, Tom discovers a call to a change of heart, a new way of living. That’s not what he’s after when he starts out, but few of us know our true destination when we first set foot on the road. The way reveals itself as we travel it.