From before my first Camino: I journeyed through northern Spain some years ago, from Barcelona to Montserrat, to the shrine of Our Lady of the Pillar at Zaragoza, and onward to Santiago and Fatima. My companions were fellow priests from around Los Angeles, pilgrims all, making our way from one ancient shrine to the next. We were traveling through mid-summer – perhaps a mistake? I had finally gotten used to the heat, but only because I knew I could escape it. I moved quickly from the air-conditioned bus to the air-conditioned restaurant, walking briefly through the heat again to the somewhat less oppressive cathedral. It had been like this for days.
Granted, the bus was comfortable, the companionship more than pleasant, and the plazas of the towns we passed through were magical, but only after about ten each night. By that point, it had cooled enough to enjoy them. I could appreciate the odd sleeping and eating patterns of Spain – take a siesta through the blast furnace of the afternoon, work into the evening, dine and promenade from one tapas bar to the next during the pleasant, nighttime respite from the relentless sun.
It was long enough ago that I only have vague pictures left in my memories of the places we visited. I remember enjoying the food and the companionship. I remember the heat. And I remember the backpack laden pilgrims, viewed from a distance, walking through the heat, as they made their way to Santiago de Compostela.
I was seated in an air-conditioned bus, with my small wheeled bag in luggage below; they were making their way, shaded only by their hats, burdened by their possessions, carried in packs. Those who were still walking in the afternoon, looked weary and worn out…and happy. Their embrace of difficult means and uncomfortable circumstances had an authenticity that teased at my comfortable, large windowed, pleasantly conditioned, bussed conveyance to the holy.
Luke 9:57-58 – “57 As they were proceeding on their journey someone said to [Jesus], “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 Jesus answered him, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.”
For reflection: Sometimes even the special needs reconsideration. There I was making a lovely, spiritual journey in the company of brother priests. I was enjoying their company, and diving deeply into the spiritual opportunities offered by the pilgrimage we were taking together. It was a perfectly lovely pilgrimage. There was no reason to disparage or discount it. And yet, the witness of this utterly alternate form of pilgrimage, backpack rather than bus, presented an opportunity, offered a challenge, one that took several years to ferment before taking root in my life.
Who would have thought that empty space, and less, much less of the comforts of life, could be so very much more?
Since then, I’ve made not one, but two pilgrimages to Santiago by foot. These experiences still haunt me for their richness, in spite of the void of possessions, and the complexity of experiences they offer, even though the process of rising, walking, bathing and dining is so utterly simple.
I wouldn’t want to discourage bus pilgrimages, because they offer the modern believer the opportunity for spiritual adventure when no other means can be conceived. And yet, the invitation to reconsider everything in which one once found contentment can open us up for amazing opportunities. The emptying process of the Camino can do that for us. And in that emptying, we just might encounter Jesus on the road, who also had nothing, not even a place to lay his head. Can we say, as did someone in the Gospel, “I will follow you wherever you will go”? We may find it awkward finding a place to lay our own heads in walking with Jesus on pilgrimage. Could that very uncertainty be the gift our well-planned lives need to open ourselves to other unplanned opportunities from the Lord? Can I join them in the heat…and the happiness?
