Whispers from the Camino—Day 11

Ciruena to Granon 12.9 km

A fellow pilgrim after sharing a table in a cafe. From India, he was looking for a new direction in his life.

Years ago when I was married I made it a point to remember four important dates—the day of the month when my children were born, our anniversary date and the day of the month of my ex-wife’s birthday. As a pastor I had a busy schedule and, rather than just celebrate our family birthdays and anniversaries annually, I made it a point of honoring them monthly as well. I knew I couldn’t completely make up for all the evening meetings, but at least there was a monthly reminder that my family was special to me.

This morning I woke up and immediately realized it was my ex wife’s birthday—September 15. She would be 63 years old on this day. I didn’t dwell on it much, but I thought about how different my life was now 17 years after my divorce. I was grateful for our years together and the gift of two children, but as I readied myself for another day of walking on the Camino I was also thankful for how much my life had changed and the new opportunities it had afforded me. Here I was walking the 500-mile Camino, something that I probably would not have been brave enough to do in the context of my marriage.

The village of Granon, Spain

I was especially looking forward to this day. Just thirteen kilometers up the road was the village of Granon. Numerous pilgrims who had walked the Camino in the past had said, “This was a must stop.” I knew they didn’t take reservations so I would need to get there early to secure a bed. All I really knew was that the albergue run by volunteer hospitaleteros provided a communal experience.

On the way there my mind and heart were processing the significant shift I was allowing into my life in the form of this long walk across Spain. I had just spent nearly six years as a presbytery executive. I thought back to the original interview with them in 2017. I remember saying, “I don’t think you are going to need an executive who serves as a manager or administrator. You will need an executive who serves as the soul of the church.” Those words kept working on me this day. In the end, the presbytery probably did want more of an administrator and manager, but my need to be the soul of a community never evaporated from my consciousness.

Granon, Spain, again

I didn’t know what would come next, but I did know that it had to have “soul” to it one way or another, whatever that meant. I thought about Vaclav Havel in Poland and Marianne Williamson in America. They felt like mentors to me—people of heart, soul and spirit who also held a place of authority in their respective countries—Havel as the playwright president of Poland and Williamson as the novelist and spiritual guru turned presidential candidate.

I found myself wanting to go somewhere where I would be appreciated for the work and presence I bring to congregational systems. I had a moment when I realized I was asking for the impossible. I only show up in systems where there is loss and grief and ask people to come to terms with that. Of course, these systems don’t shower me with appreciation. I represent what they are losing. It is important work, but to ask people to say, “Thank you so much helping us see and accept what we have lost,” is just too much.

Communal sleeping room

As I walked I realized that I had to acknowledge my own grief. I expected appreciation for the hard and emotionally complex work of helping systems come to terms with decline and loss. I wasn’t ready for it yet, but I realized that I would have to find a place in myself (or God) to feel that appreciation I was looking for. I was looking for external validation when the real work ahead of me was to find that sweet place where my validation came from a place deep inside me.

I was early to Granon and was able to pick a spot on the floor for my mat next to the six or seven who already had arrived. Unlike the previous albergues that had a handful of bunk beds in a room, Granon offered thin mats that we placed a few inches from each other. I think we had about 36 beds in the mixed gender communal room with a wide aisle between the two rows, but only about six inches between each mat.

Communal clean up crew!

The communal theme continued for the evening as a people were picked to prepare the meal together, others of us to do the set up around communal tables and all of us pitching in to clean at the end. It was a wonderful experience of taking a group of complete strangers, tossing them into a room for sleeping and trusting them to put a large meal together for the traveling pilgrims.

That night we retreated to the balcony of the sanctuary, lit candles, shared a bit about where we each had come from and why we were on the pilgrimage. Then we prayed. It was a lovely, soulful, and rich evening of spontaneous connection. We had come from many places, countries and life circumstances, but we were united by being “on the way” and a common commitment to honor each other’s unique journeys.