From Santiago de Compostela: On my first camino, my friend, Jim, and I spent only one half day in Santiago, before catching plane flights the next morning, he to England, and I to southern Spain. It was a mistake to move on so soon. There was a need to linger at the tomb of the apostle James, to wander the streets of the city, and to have a good meal or two.
So, on my second, longer camino, I spent two whole nights in Santiago after my arrival. I visited the cathedral several times to pray. I met fellow pilgrims who had become friends in the great plaza in front of the cathedral. I concelebrated at the pilgrim’s Mass, and as the only native English speaker among the priests, read the one Prayer of the Faithful in English. By happy chance, the great botafumeiro swung for us.
I ate dinner with friends I had met on the way, and joined them for a tour of the roof of the cathedral, something I never would have thought of doing by myself. It ended up being much more interesting than I predicted. I had a chance to move slowly through the Museo de las Peregrinaciones y de Santiago, allowing its richness to sink into my memory. It was splendid.
Of all the moments in those two days, though, the one that intrigued me most was the discovery of a yellow arrow in the Praza do Obradoiro, right in front of the great Parador of the Catholic Kings. Except that it wasn’t leading to the cathedral, nor the shrine of the apostle. The Costa do Cristo road ran right in front of the parador, then down a ramp to the Rua das Hortas to some other, unnamed, place.
It made no practical sense to me. Perhaps it was to guide people to Muxia or Fisterra, the “end of the world.” I never found an explanation, and so I am left free to provide my own.
Mark 10:46-52 – 46 They came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a sizable crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind man, the son of Timaeus, sat by the roadside begging. 47 On hearing that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” 48 And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he kept calling out all the more, “Son of David, have pity on me.” 49 Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” So they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take courage; get up, he is calling you.” 50 He threw aside his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus. 51 Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replied to him, “Master, I want to see.” 52 Jesus told him, “Go your way; your faith has saved you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way.”
For reflection: In the Gospel story, there is an encounter with Jesus, actively sought by blind Bartimaeus, as soon as he discovers who passes by. Among the possible goals of pilgrimage is the active pursuit of God, to encounter Jesus, and perhaps to journey with him.
In the passage, disciples assertively hinder Bartimaeus, and then are ordered to call him over. Pilgrimage both throws up obstacles, and provides ready access to the Lord in unpredictable patterns. There is pain, and there is companionship, an opportunity to struggle, but also to experience Eden in the beauty of Spanish countryside, people and food.
When invited, the blind man throws off his cloak and springs up to address the Lord. Before beginning the Camino, we leave so much behind. Hopefully, we leave even more behind as we journey, our fears, the aching wounds of our histories, the preoccupation with possessions, the relationships that strangled our joy.
We do well to ask ourselves who was really blind in this story, Bartimaeus, who knows where his salvation lies, or the disciples who tried to silence him? On pilgrimage, we are invited to scrutinize our own blindness and, if possible to unveil the truth that lays just past it. It’s hard to know what you don’t know, to recognize your blindness. Who has been trying to help us see our blindness? Are they right? The way is a safe place to dwell on our blindness. Recognizing, and perhaps overcoming, our own blindness can be among the many Camino blessings.
In the passage, a blind man comes to see. On pilgrimage, if we are so blessed, we might also have received enlightenment. In the open space of the Camino, so many things become possible. We might know ourselves better. Perhaps we have made some important decisions about our lives. We may have healed some deep inner wounds. We have had the opportunity to push past physical limits, and find new boundaries, and the willingness to push past them as well. Light can be shed on so much of the history and life each pilgrim brings to Santiago.
But does all that end here in Santiago de Compostela? In that one arrow leading out of the Plaza del Obraidoiro, out into the great wide world, is the invitation to stay on pilgrimage, to live on pilgrimage. Of all the points for our consideration in the story of brave Bartimaeus is the call, perhaps the call from Jesus, to Bartimaeus and to us, to go our way, our journey, our Camino. Jesus did not constrain Bartimaeus. “Go your way” is utterly permissive. “Do as you will. Follow your own path.” Immediately, the passage says, Bartimaeus received his sight and followed Jesus on the way. “The way” here was one of the earliest descriptions of the life of the disciple, who chooses to follow Jesus’ way. Who will you follow? Will you stay on pilgrimage? Will you follow that arrow out of the Plaza del Obrairoiro into the great wide world, still in pursuit of transformation, and the encounter with the divine? Life awaits.
