Fog and Crosses

 Greetings from Zubiri, in Navarra region of Spain (Basque country).

It occurs to me that on this pilgrimage there is an overwhelming amount of material about which one could write. The beauty, the people one meets from all over the globe, the creatures great and small and many other aspects of the journey thus far are all fodder for reflection. It is difficult to discern if this is because of there being something inherently exceptional about these or if it is due to one's heightened awareness while on pilgrimage. Probably both of these factor into the equation. 

Having read several books/journals of other pilgrims and watched plenty of video clips of the same, there is also the temptation to forget that this Camino is my own (or our own as Jenny is with me) and it is not important to mimic what others have done with respect to where they stayed, the sights they photographed or the insights they gleaned.  This also rings true regarding this blog.  While I would wish to write as well as others or seem as insightful as they, I am learning to come to terms with who I am and be content in this.  And from this perspective I will be sharing from my own Camino reflections in hope that it might bring  perspective, joy, insight or peace to some of you who chose to follow. With all this in mind, here are the two themes that have been my companions for the  first 2 days of this journey: fog and crosses.

Day one was extremely challenging physically.  We walked perhaps 9 kms ascending almost constantly and at an incline that was beyond anything I could train for in the area we reside. For perspective, at my less than impressive height of 5'8" (sorry for mixing metric and imperial measure, but I suspect I am not alone for Canadians my age in this regard), if I looked straight ahead with a level I would see the feet of a person only 12 yards ahead of me.  Then we descended from this 1400 meters (4600 ft) also at a very difficult angle for perhaps 9 kms.  Finally, we walked relatively flat terrain from Roncesvilles to Burgette and our first accommodation.  

Now, aside from the grade, the most prominent aspect of yesterday's pilgrimage was the fog.  And I don't mean the kind of fog I might encounter at home.  I mean the kind of fog in which at 25 meters you begin to suspect an animal nearby but cannot discern if it is a cow or horse, at 20 you cannot seen another human at all, and the kind that makes your hair drip as though in the rain.  This kind of fog was our constant companion all the way up and part of the way down our first Pyrenees experience. 

The fog was disappointing: we knew we were surrounded by spectacular beauty, high peaks, deep and lush valleys in which we could hear rushing streams and we typically would see great distances and tiny villages below. However, we saw none of this.  Part of my daily prayer includes asking God to help me be attentive to what is real, to what or whom is present rather than living in the realm of "if only", or "I wish".  Panting and stumbling I began to let go of the disappointment of what I could not see and began to attend to what was.  And it turns out that what was, was sounds.  Bells worn by flocks of sheep, by horses and cows.  Voices and the click of trekking poles hitting rock.  Fog was our constant companion but so was sound, so were people and animals.  This  awareness began to give me this odd joy, delight and peace.  The bells made me smile.  The voices reminded me that we were part of a large company of pilgrims. My mind went to the "great cloud of witnesses" of Hebrews 12 and the comfort of those with us, even if not always visible as well as those who have previously travel this pilgrimage, both the physical Camino de Santiago and the more general walk of faith. I am thankful for the fog now, it occluded some things but revealed others.  The former make great pictures, the later make for great "travel" companions in life.

Crosses.  They exist back home, but are ubiquitous here. In two days I have viewed more than I can recount. They are on churches, monasteries, chapels, monuments, memorials, Camino markers and on homes. 

In my first post I mentioned using a daily prayer liturgy organized and by Brian Zahnd in Water to Wine. Here are a few lines from these prayers regarding the cross:

"So that as we draw near to Jesus Christ lifted up, His cross becomes for us the axis of love expressed in forgiveness that reforms the world."

Here is another example:

"Lord Jesus, you stretched out your arms of love upon the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your name. Amen."

These prayers have been shaping me for some time. And as a Jesus follower and pastor the crucifixion of Jesus is obviously central to my life. Yet, somehow seeing these crosses, these prominent visual reminders of stone, wood, metal and paint seemingly everywhere in Spain, have magnified the outrageously generous love of God expressed in the embracing arms of Jesus and have, by extension, been challenging my lack of wide eyed, generous hearted embrace of all God put in my path. Lord have mercy on me.

Posts in this series:
Welcome to The Long Walk
Ent-ish

Fog and Crosses 

Zabaldika

The Alto de Perdon

Peripatetic Prayer

Odds and Ends

Common slogans on the Camino

Holy

Trees and Time

...    

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Ent-ish

I love to walk among the willow trees along the Grand River near our home.  There is something decidedly Ent-ish about these willows. Now I know this blog is about our journey on the Camino de Santiago, however, it is about a week before we leave so I am practicing two things before we leave: walking and blogging.   

Back to the willows. The one in the photo has fascinated me for years.  My photos don't do it justice so let me explain.  The tree is completely broken off at about 12 feet and has been for probably many years.  You can see one main horizontal branch remains and it has a secondary one stemming from it.  I have used an online lumber calculator and "guesstimate" this branch weighs about 1500 pounds. In the same way a five pound weight is easy to hold in close to your body but really tough to hold with your arm extended out all the way, the eccentric load of this branch must create incredible strain at the point at which it joins the trunk.  What my photos don't capture well is that the trunk of the tree, which was 3 feet in diameter is not only split in half, but the remaining half is almost entirely rotted away, leaving a thin 4 inch wall of living trunk around one half of the original circumference.

This Ent like tree reminds me of the words of Miracle Max in The Princess Bride, "it's mostly dead, which is partly alive", or of Greg Boyd's band called NDY, Not Dead Yet. As I walked past it today I noticed the one and only branch is full of buds and will soon be in full leaf.  It is hard to believe it strong enough to stand let alone healthy enough to produce leaves for another summer.  I love this tree.  I have taken many very poor pictures of it, none of which capture its resilience, its odd and almost humorous shape, its stubborn refusal to give up even though the vast majority of it has long become organic soil. 

Frankly, I'm not too sure why I am writing about this tree. Seeing it doesn't just amuse me, it moves me.  Perhaps I think of it as s symbol for my life, or life generally. Along the way some beliefs fall off when we find they no longer serve us, plans may die and rot away due to changing circumstances, we might suffer some damage along the way inflicted by others or by having allowed our false self to control our narrative for far too long.  And yet, there is life, there is resilience, there is growth and there is strength.  I might even say there is beauty.  Like the willow, which some might see as distorted and disfigured, but I see as special, as having earned its place.  If I spoke Entish I suspect I would learn that this willow is wise and that its hollow trunk has provided refuge for many little critters and its one remaining branch is the favorite perch for many birds.

Posts in this series:
Welcome to The Long Walk
Ent-ish

Fog and Crosses 

Zabaldika

The Alto de Perdon

Peripatetic Prayer

Odds and Ends

Common slogans on the Camino

Holy

Trees and Time

...    

Subscribe to all posts.

Welcome to The Long Walk

 Welcome friends. I am glad you are here.  

I am not exactly an avid blogger. My presence on social media is minimal. I only recently learned what a Google Doc is 😊. However, as I am about to set out on the Camino de Santiago, I decided I would share aspects of my adventure with those who might find value in it and who probably would not have the opportunity to walk the Camino themselves. My good friend Steven was kind enough to set this blog up for me. Thanks buddy.

For those unfamiliar with the Camino, you can find loads of info online and some fantastic videos on YouTube. In particular I would recommend these videos: Faith Walk with Peter and Kristen (Spirit and Nature Productions) for a well made film that tells their story, or Camino Frances (The Fast Hiker) if you want to see a film that is less story and more detailed on the physical aspects of the walk. If you prefer to read, Peri Zahnd has written a great little reflection on her Camino adventure with her husband Brian (one of my favorite authors of late), called Every Scene by Heart.  Basically, the Camino de Santiago is an historic Christian pilgrimage along various routes that all lead to Santiago de Compostela, Spain. The route Jenny and I will be walking is known as the Camino Frances since it begins in France, but after only a day we will be in Spain for the rest of the 780 kilometer trek.  

Frankly, I am not exactly sure how often I will post.  It could be daily, weekly or just randomly when I feel inspired.  My hope is that while walking across Spain I will be able to be fully present and attentive to aspects of the experience: nature, beauty, people, God and the many historical physical testaments to the Christian faith and the pilgrims who have walked this path for over the past 1000 years (churches, monasteries, convents, art, etc.). Since this adventure is taking place during the very beginning of a sabbatical I am hesitant to commit to frequent posting, fearing that it will feel like work. So, I will post when it seems joyful to do so. 

People have been asking me why I want to walk the Camino de Santiago.  To be honest, I am not sure. It's not like I have long dreamed of this. I do know that the sabbatical seems necessary for me at this point: taking a break from pastoral ministry, feeling some residual unease over the polarizing last few years, recently finishing doctoral studies and experiencing major change to our family with both daughters getting married over the last 18 months. Instead of addressing the question of why I want to walk the Camino, I think I can more easily address the question of what I hope to get from the experience. Primarily, I hope to experience the ways in which physically walking, many miles on an old path, correlates with walking through life with Jesus.  This is obviously not easy to articulate and no matter how I attempt to phrase it, it sounds either contrived or silly, perhaps both. Maybe the best I can do is explain this hope in terms of some practices.

First, I plan to use a particular prayer liturgy or pattern as I begin walking each day.  I have often used the liturgy shared by Brian Zahnd in his book "Water to Wine" over past few years and will make this an essential aspect of my journey.  Walking while praying has become very meaningful for me going back to using Matt Canlis's book "Backyard Pilgrim" for Lent for the past 3 years.  

Second, I hope to enjoy quiet, if not exactly silence. This too can be understood as prayer or meditation. As Orthodox Christians engage the "Jesus Prayer" as part of the hesychastic tradition in which they "let the head fall into the heart" and aim at union with God beyond word or image (see Kallistos Ware), I also hope to rest in this experience while walking, to whatever degree I am able.  If in simply putting one foot in front of the other for hours each day I am able to let some of what is in my head settle and be distilled, it will be a great blessing.  It seems to me that following Jesus requires learning and leaning into His values, not just learning information. Perhaps getting away from new information will be a catalyst for this other kind of learning.

Finally, and very simply, I expect that this long walk of the Camino will serve as a powerful metaphor for life long learning, becoming and growing.  I will not be walking to find God, as though He is hiding in Santiago, but walking with Him. While this is an everyday, everywhere pattern for the life of faith, I trust that the actual, physical and undoubtedly challenging trek across the Pyrenees, the Meseta and Galicia will be a memorable lesson in this regard.  

Matt Canlis makes the observation that Jesus walked everywhere and when we walk, we are going Godspeed, about 3 miles an hour. I suppose for about 6 weeks I plan do just that. And as I blog, in some very small way, you will be with me on the journey.

Posts in this series:
Welcome to The Long Walk
Ent-ish

Fog and Crosses 

Zabaldika

The Alto de Perdon

Peripatetic Prayer

Odds and Ends

Common slogans on the Camino

Holy

Trees and Time

...    

Subscribe to all posts.