United with Christ on Pilgrimage

For 1,000 years. Yes, for 1,000 years. Pilgrims like me have walked these grassy roads and dusty roads to have their sins atoned at the tomb of St. James. But even more importantly, people like you and me, have gone to Spain to experience union with God. Isn't that what it is all about after all? Yep. It is. In the 15th chapter of the book of John, Jesus says, "We have come to make our home in you." And Jesus is not just talking about a metaphorical sense of speech. Jesus declares the truth. On pilgrimage, we get to experience the "home" that Christ came to reside in. Our home is our greatest home, the home between our ears. 

After Rome, this pilgrimage to Santiago is the number one travelled Christian pilgrimage in the world! One story stands out from my trip. It was my fourth day of hiking. My feet were sore. My back was tired from carrying a 35-pound backpack through mountains, wetlands, and four lane highways. We had awoken at 4:30 that morning and gotten started. Our primary task was to beat the heat. Since we were trying to beat the heat, we only stopped for bread and cheese along the road. We stopped for about ten minutes. I could have fallen asleep. I was so tired. I continued. My friends Miati and Steph encouraged me. That day they decided to teach me some Spanish. We laughed as I tried to piece together strange phrases from my days in an American Elementary school. But as the day grew toward dusk, I remember the moment when my deepest hurts, my deepest longings, and my aching back went through a metanoia.

As we walked towards the village of Belorado, we noticed a barn that was barren and dilapidated. We began to joke about the number of days before the barn would become a part of the earth. It looked as if only a small breeze could topple the structure. As we joked we began to get concerned about our accommodations. As we eased around the corner of the dusty and dry “camino road,” we were shocked to see a fountain. Inside the fountain were white bottles glistening in the sun. Water poured over them, all twenty-five of them. As we inched towards the monastery where we were to live for the night, we could see smoke. The smoke got more pleasant with each step. We then realized a group of men were making chicken and rice. When I asked them about it, the old Spaniards said, “We have come to feed the pilgrims, go grab a bottle of wine for each of you, the feast is prepared.” I am used to drinking wine in a glass. These men were tilting the wine up and drinking it straight from the bottle. I asked the very fat farmer, “Where did this come from?” he said, “ Oh, we made that last week from my grapes in that field over there.”

In a flash of a moment, my life went from death, to life. I feel that pilgrimage is a journey between death and life. Pilgrimage is grounded in our daily experiences in the earth, on the earth, and with the people that God has graced on this earth. Pilgrimage, as I see it, is like a cat. It pounces on you without your consent. This experience in Spain changed me; I was no longer a disgruntled walker with dust in my eyes, clothes, and fingernails. I was like the prodigal son, coming home to feast with an awaiting father.