 The Camino takes many shapes. Here it is a narrow but well-worn path between a cow pasture and Spain's northern coast. This past April, Yesenia and I spent three transformational weeks walking the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain. I wrote this piece originally as a paper for a class in my graduate program. It is more academic than most of my posts (complete with footnotes!), but I think it is very readable. The first half offers an overview of pilgrimage in the Christian tradition and explores the fascinating history of the Camino de Santiago. My personal reflection on the experience is found in the latter half of the post. Enjoy!  Pilgrimage or the act of sacred travel, is a spiritual practice found in nearly all major religions. Jews travel to the Holy Land, Muslims to Mecca, and Hindus to Mount Kailash, which Buddhists call Mount Meru. Within each of these global religions are numerous pilgrimage paths and sites, where the faithful journey in hopes of finding healing, redemption, salvation, or simply a deeper connection with God or the divine nature of being. Pilgrimages don't have to be inherently religious, but for obvious reasons, many of the most popular pilgrimage sites have religious roots. For Christians, there have been three main pilgrimage sites since the Middle Ages: the Holy Sepulcher of Christ in Jerusalem, the tomb of Saint Peter in Rome, and the remains of the Apostle James in Santiago de Compostela in Spain. The practice of Christian pilgrimage predates the life of Christ. The bible is full of stories of God calling his people to leave their homes to journey to another. Abraham left for the land of Canaan after God called on him to do so, "Go from your country… to the land that I will show" (Gen. 12:1). Generations later, Moses led the Hebrew people from Egypt to the promised land, which included forty years of wandering in the wilderness (Exodus 2:20). Following a star, the Magi journeyed from afar to visit the infant Jesus shortly after his miraculous birth. Christ carried his cross down the Via Dolorosa, "the way of grief" in Latin. Saul's supernatural encounter with the Christ and his subsequent conversion took place while traveling the road to Damascus. The sacred practice of pilgrimage may be a reoccurring religious practice because the outward physical act of travel mirrors the inward journey of the soul towards the divine. The prophet Jeremiah writes, "Thus says the Lord: Stand at the crossroads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way lies; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls" (Jeremiah 6:16 NRSV). New Testament writers use the language of pilgrims to describe the state of our soul on earth (Hebrews 11:13-16 and 1 Peter 2:11). It seems an essential practice of the spirit to be on the move. The act of pilgrimage stands in contrast to the perception that in order to achieve a true spiritual state, one must be in a meditative or idle position. There are times the path to God is found by walking. The great religious traditions understand this, and Christianity is no exception.
The Camino's "Norte" route is mix of dirt trails, cobblestone pathways, and paved roads. Signposts with yellow arrows and the shell symbol reassure peregrinos (pilgrims) that they are on the right path. The Camino de Santiago, in English, the "Way of Saint James," is an early medieval period pilgrimage route to the shrine in Santiago de Compostela, where it is said the remains of James the Apostle are buried. The story of the Camino de Santiago is a mix of legend and church history. James was the brother of John, both of whom were two of Jesus' first four disciples. The brothers were known as the "sons of thunder" (Mark 3:13), perhaps for their fiery tempers and fierce loyalty. James was part of Jesus's inner circle and witness to miracles (Mark 5:37), the Transfiguration (Mark 9:2), and Jesus's anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane (Mark 14:33). He was beheaded by King Herod Agrippa in 44AD (Acts 12:2). This is where the biblical account of James, the son of Zebedee, ends, and church history and legend begin. The Spanish story claims that James was a missionary to the Iberian Peninsula after the death of Christ. He was not a very successful missionary, converting only a few disciples. He eventually returned to the Holy Land, where he became the first recorded martyr in the New Testament. After his death, his remains were smuggled back to Galicia in the northwest region of modern-day Spain on a sail-less boat, where his disciples, the few that he had, received his remains and placed them in a cave.1 His remains lay hidden there for nearly eight centuries. Around 813, the hermit Pelayo heard music and saw lights shining over a cave in the woods. He dug up the sight and discovered bones and a parchment, presumably identifying the remains of Christ's disciple. The bishop authenticated the site as the remains of James the apostle.2 It wasn't long before word of the discovery spread, and pilgrims began making their way to the tomb. A small chapel was constructed to guard the relics, and a small town grew up around it. The timing of the discovery was fortuitous. By the 9th century, the Moors had gained control of much of Spain. Christians in the north and northwest of Spain were desperate. The discovery of the holy relic may have empowered the Asturian army to face the much stronger Moor force, which carried their own holy relics into battle. In the pivotal and tide-turning Battle of Clavijo, which some scholars believe never actually happened, legend says that Saint James appeared on his white horse and led the Christian armies to victory.3 Word of the infamous Santiago spread. Thus, James became the patron saint of Spain serving dual roles as Santiago Peregrino, James the spiritual pilgrim, and Santiago Matamoros (James the Moor-slayer). As word spread, pilgrims from across Europe began flooding the area. The emergence of the Codex Calixtinus manuscript around the 1130s provided a list of miracles attributed to St. James, the history of the route, and advice for pilgrims, including warnings of dangers.4 The city of Compostela grew to accommodate the crowds arriving daily.
All along the way we encountered signs of a bygone world. Religious markers erected in fields where livestock graze today. The door of this centuries-old stone chapel bears the marks of long ago visitors. The 11th and 12th centuries marked the period of the greatest pilgrimage activity, not coincidentally, as the veneration of holy relics reached its apex.5 The importance of iconography in religious experience during the Middle Ages cannot be understated. The majority of people were illiterate and dependent upon educated clergy to recite scripture. Hymns served to help believers remember sacred texts. Iconography filled in the gaps where words could not be read. Relics, images, and symbols became important ways for everyday people to strengthen their faith, reinforce their beliefs, and connect with the sacred. Though the medieval attraction to relics was so strong, it became superstitious for some, believing certain images were necessary for healthy living or a good harvest; for many, it was their way of experiencing God. St. John of the Cross (1542–1591) wrote about their importance: "Our Lord frequently bestows these favors by means of images situated in remote and solitary places. The reason for this is that the effort required in journeying to these places make the affection increase and the act of prayer more intense.”6 The claim that the relics of the apostle James were resting in Europe would have been irresistible for many spiritual seekers during this period. At the peak of the Middle Ages, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims made their way across Europe to Santiago de Compostela. It was a harrowing effort with no certainty of arrival. Up to the point of debarking for Compostela, most pilgrims would have never ventured far from their homes. This pilgrimage involved traveling hundreds of miles over terrain their eyes had never seen, vulnerable to all kinds of dangers—violent robbers, extreme weather, wild animals, and deadly disease, to name a few. Why? Pilgrims traveled for varying reasons. For many, the veneration of relics offered a strong pull, but so did the demands of penances. Other pilgrims may have sought healing and miracles. This is understandable considering the bubonic plague ravaged Europe during the 14th century killing one-third of the European population. In her book, Women Pilgrims in Late Medieval England, Susan Morrison notes that a large number of pilgrims were mothers traveling to shrines, often barefoot, for the healing of their sick and dying children.7 Some travelers may have desired an adventure. Whatever their reasons, scores of pilgrims during the Middle Ages risked greatly to be counted among those who made the Way of Saint James.
Our journey took us through many villages, towns, and cities. On the left, we stopped to look back at the quaint seaside city of Zumaia. On the right, evening sets on San Nikolas church in Balboa (one of our favorite cities on the tour). There were critics of pilgrimage. As early as the 4th c., Jerome (c. 347–420) argued that a holy life is more important than a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.8 However, the fiercest critiques of pilgrimage in the Christian tradition came during the Reformation in the early 16th century, when Luther and Calvin argued for salvation based on faith, not works. The Protestant reformers offered a message of faith alone that warned against idolizing humans or objects or confining God's presence to particular places. This message stood in contrast to the medieval expression of pilgrimage as salvific with it its emphasis on iconography, sacred relics, and penance. During the Reformation, the number of pilgrims traveling to Santiago de Compostela dwindled but did not disappear. There were Christians who still viewed pilgrimage as an undeniably biblical practice. For example, English Puritanism of the 16th and 17th centuries recovered an Augustinian understanding of pilgrimage.9 Additionally, literary works like John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress (1678) allowed the discipline of pilgrimage to survive the Reformation. The Camino de Santiago became less popular during the Enlightenment period with its emphasis on religious skepticism, but the Camino never stopped altogether. The number of guides and memoirs written during the last half of the millennium indicate that there has been constant pilgrimage activity focused on Compostela.10 The Camino de Santiago saw a resurgence of pilgrims during the 20th century due in part to Spain's investment in making the Camino easier to travel and the rise of mass media, which spread stories of the Camino through songs, memoirs, and films. In more recent years, social media has fueled its popularity. In 2019, according to statistics gathered by the official Pilgrim's Office, more than 340,000 pilgrims representing 190 different countries trekked the Camino de Santiago in that year alone. Yesenia and I walked the Camino de Santiago on the "Camino Norte" route across Spain's northern coast. For us, as with the thousands of other peregrinos, the reasons for choosing this pilgrimage were both personal and universal. Personally, the journey was about transformation from my life as a single adult to a married man. Yesenia and I were married on April 22nd, the 12th day of our pilgrimage. We left for Spain as two individuals, and we returned as one. The experience of walking for weeks alongside my partner was as significant and spiritually meaningful as the short walk down the aisle of the church on our wedding day. In this way, the pilgrimage was a way for me to shed my old life and be reborn anew.  
Photo credit to our wonderful photographer, Luis, at Love Mas Love (www.lovemaslove.com) I want to be careful not to over-romanticize Pilgrimage. It was hard. We averaged 10-15 miles a day. Our longest day of walking was nearly 20 miles. By the end of each day, our feet were swollen and our legs were aching. We spent most evenings rubbing ointments on each other's soles. We prayed that our shoes would withstand the stress and our feet would remain free of blisters. Pilgrimage is a spiritual practice, but the irony is that most moments on our pilgrimage did not feel spiritual; it was quite the opposite, as most moments felt very human. Our skin was, at times, sun-slapped and covered in sweat; other times, it was drenched in rain. We experienced a range of human phenomena, hunger and thirst, weariness and impatience, and longing and satisfaction when we reached our destination. There was a need to use a toilet when none can be found. In this way, pilgrimage is the antithesis of quiet meditation. Instead of sitting still in contemplation, you are on the move, your mind wandering. And then, at once, you snap back to attention when you think you've taken a wrong turn or lost the trail. And yet, through the daily rhythms of the outward journey, something is reborn inside you. Paulo Coelho writes in The Pilgrimage, "When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys, you don't even understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favor from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life."11
Rain or shine we trekked forward each days stopping for only one day - the day we got married. The theme of transformation reoccurred in many of the peregrinos we met. On the train from Barcelona to San Sebastian, we sat next to a gentleman in his seventies. He asked us if we were here for the Camino—our backpacks gave it away. We asked him what inspired him to walk the Camino. He told us that he lost his wife of fifty years in 2020. The Camino de Santiago was something they always talked about doing but never did. He was there to walk the Camino for both of them. He questioned if his aged body would be up for the long journey, but he said he knew his wife would be with him. My wife and I traveled to Spain to start our lives together. He traveled there to transition to a life apart. We met an American man in his twenties traveling solo with sunscreen chalked on his face and a camera strung around his neck. He told us that he had spent the last several years working long days in the high-stress world of finance in New York City. He had enough and quit his job. Before making the transition back to to his home in Northern California, he decided to take some time off and reorient himself by walking the Camino de Santiago for five weeks. In his book The Way is Made by Walking, Arthur Paul Boers writes about the paradox of pilgrimage. Is it necessary for one to travel across the world to begin their walk? Why not walk wherever you are? Pilgrimage is, in its truest sense, travel for the purposes of encountering God. So what if people who walk with no religious affiliation at all? Are they "true" pilgrims if they are simply taking a long walk? What about the privilege of pilgrimage?How many people have the resources and time to afford to take weeks out of their lives to walk for the sole purpose of spiritual edification? The majority of Christians in the world will never be able to make a pilgrimage like the Camino de Santiago. Are they somehow being denied some epiphany into the nature of God by staying home? The questions are valid, and I struggle to give a satisfying answer to them. Of course, you can walk where you are, and it would make far less of an impact on the environment. It is true that non-religious people can find meaning in the act of pilgrimage sans any traditional spiritual affiliation, and I don't think that embarking on a pilgrimage is essential for spiritual enlightenment. However, it is important not to devalue the importance of pilgrimage as a spiritual practice. As noted above, there is a Biblical precedent and pattern of God calling people to travel, to walk the long road, often through the "wilderness," to draw nearer to the will and presence of God. In a mythical sense, since humankind's eviction from Eden, humanity has been on the move, searching for its way back to spiritual union with God. Pilgrimage, while not mandatory, can be a way for seekers to create an environment for a divine encounter. As Boers writes, "Pilgrimage is about integration, body and soul, feet and faith".12
On the left: A place to sit and rest welcomes us near this now abandoned ermita. A sign out front tells the story of monk that once lived here waiting for pilgrims to pass by so he could offer them food and rest. On the right: swamps of mud made for slow-going. After 19 days and over 230 miles, we ended our pilgrimage in Oviedo, Spain. From the beginning, it was the plan that we would complete this trek in Oviedo, 193 miles short of Santiago de Compostela. We told ourselves that we would return to finish what we started one day. I couldn't help but wonder if I would be disappointed when we arrived. Would there be an anticlimactic letdown that would leave me regretting that we were not walking all the way to Santiago de Compostela? What if we arrived in Oviedo and I felt no sense of spiritual epiphany? We could have gotten married back home in California with friends and family in attendance. I wondered if this pilgrimage was spiritual vanity meant to puff up my ego. The risk of pilgrimage is the possibility of disappointment. Just as true in the Middle Ages as it is today, there are no guarantees you will find what you think you're looking for on the journey. That is not the point of pilgrimage. The purpose of pilgrimage is not a destination or "arrival" at some point, be it spiritual or physical. The purpose of pilgrimage is to draw nearer to the voice that first called you. In a sense, it is about obedience as much as it is about an epiphany. In the not-so-glamorous rhythms of daily pilgrim life, the heart postures itself toward humility. In the hardship and weariness, one rediscovers his need for a holy other. In the unexpected blessings—the beauty that reveals itself around the bend—one re-delights in divine wonder. After we checked into our hotel and cleaned up, we headed to the Cathedral of San Salvador, a gothic church in the heart of Oviedo. Construction of the cathedral began in the 13th century and concluded in the 16th century. For hundreds of years, pilgrims on their way to Compostela would have witnessed the church's rising. The Holy Chamber, called the Cámara Santa, holds the treasures of the Asturias Monarchy like the Cross of the Angels, a gold-plated and jewel-adorned cross from the year 808. It is said to have been crafted by angels because the craftsman disappeared without accepting payment for the masterpiece. The chamber also holds several religious relics with extraordinary claims: a sandal that belonged to Saint Peter; a splinter from the cross that Christ was crucified on; and dirt collected from the home of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Perhaps the most venerated piece in the collection is the Sudarium of Oviedo, or Shroud of Oviedo. According to church history, it is the cloth that was wrapped around the head of Jesus Christ after his death. It sits protected in a plated ark and is displayed to the public only twice a year. Like the Camino de Santiago, the relics lying in the Cathedral of San Salvador are a mix of history and legend. Regardless of the historicity of the artifacts, the power they hold over the beholder is real. It grips one's religious imagination and kindles the desire that humans have to experience something truly sacred. Gazing upon these relics, I felt connected to the countless pilgrims who went before me. It was a fitting place to end our journey. In a way, our pilgrimage was the Camino de San Salvador. Humans are called to places. There is something in human nature that compels us to travel to sacred sites, to walk the paths toward something mysterious. The desire to connect to someone or something bigger than ourselves is always at work in our psyche, if not consciously, then subconsciously. Today, the Camino de Santiago is less about the veneration of religious relics, penance for sins, or search for miraculous healing. I think it is more about the wonder of an ancient story, our universal longing for sacred meaning, and the healing of our battered souls. The Camino de Santiago is the story of thousands of pilgrims the world round who said yes to a simple human desire. I'll go for a walk, and perhaps I will meet God. 
Above: The Cathedral of San Salvador Left: The Holy Chamber holds religious artifacts dating back over a millennia. Right: A facsimile of the Shroud of Oviedo hangs above the ark where the shroud rests.
1 Comment
Brittany
8/15/2022 10:15:29 am
So glad you shared your journey with us! It for sure kindles the ole wanderlust in me. I look forward to hearing more! Leave a Reply. |
AuthorA WRITER AND TRAVELER KEEPING THE FAITH IN LOS ANGELES Subjects
All
Archives
August 2022
© 2022
|
RSS Feed