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"The Way of a Pilgrim" is a 19th-century book that describes a pilgrim's walk across Russia, searching to practice St. Paul's advice that Christians should "pray without ceasing" (1 Thes 5:17).

My wife, Karen, and I recently completed the Camino Santiago de Compostela, a Christian pilgrim route that has been walked by countless people for over 1,000 years. The Camino ("the way of St. James") is a pilgrimage to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Spain where, according to legend, the remains of the Apostle James are buried.

Our route, the Camino France, took us on a 495-mile journey from St. John Pied-de-Port in France to the cathedral. The exterior journey was a portal for a journey of the heart and spirit.

In its document on the Church, "Lumen Gentium" ("Light of the Nations"), the 1960s' second Vatican Council reminds us that on earth we follow the Lord "as pilgrims in a strange land." On the path to Santiago, the meaning of that phrase came to life.

We left a routine life at home. On the Camino, with our belongings in our backpacks, we were known only as "peregrinos": pilgrims on the way to Santiago. We were in a strange land, walking with peregrinos from all over Europe, speaking different languages but united in an arduous walk and a common destiny.

The daily walk of 12 to 18 miles began in morning darkness and ended with afternoon arrival at a hostel for pilgrims. One of the highlights of each day was gathering at a café with other pilgrims to share a meal and commiserate about our aches and pains!

These meals were like United Nations meetings; despite the language barriers, we made lasting friendships. We became close to a young Italian who had cystic fibrosis. He had a severe cough and difficulty breathing, but was determined to finish the Camino. He said he needed to find himself.

Catholic by tradition, something inside called him to walk this ancient path. Many other young people expressed similar sentiments. In a world that seems to have lost its spiritual center, thousands of pilgrims seek that center, walking on a remote path in Spain.

Whenever we saw this young man, his frail frame weighed down by a pack, we drew strength from his persevering spirit and prayed he would find himself and discover God again.

Our simple work each day was to follow the scallop-shell markers and arrows that mark the path. As our feet connected with the earth, we became more grounded and in communion with the soil, with the living creatures around us and with God.

Though our bodies were tired and our boots wore thin, our spirits were refreshed on the sacred ground which bore the footprints of so many pilgrims before us. When we could, we blogged about the ways God blessed each day (http://karedsol.wordpress.com).

It is impossible to fully describe the impact this pilgrimage continues to have on our lives. The images, experiences and people we met on the Camino permeate our consciousness.

Recently, while climbing an Adirondack mountain, I relived our first day's strenuous climb from a village in France over the rugged Pyrenees and into the Basque region of Spain. A powerful wind had forced us to hold onto each other for safety.

Watching sheep grazing on the summit in this wind, we considered crawling through the mountain pass. At the summit, the valley below us was blanketed in an enormous white cloud. It was a mystical moment on the mountaintop: We had entered the heavenly realm.

About 150 miles from Santiago, the path makes a steep ascent to the highest point on the Camino, Cruz de Ferro. A simple iron cross stands atop a weathered pole, surrounded by thousands of rocks deposited by pilgrims. We placed small rocks we had carried from home on the pile, representing all the people we held in prayer.

Those rocks held their suffering, dashed dreams, death, the brokenness we all feel and the brokenness of our world. We were again on Calvary with the Lord who was broken on the cross for us.

In one of the churches on the route, a poster with the smiling face of Jesus welcomes pilgrims with the words, "Yo soy el Camino" ("I am the Camino"). When we reached Santiago, we began to understand the meaning of those words. The joy we experienced entering the cathedral with hundreds of pilgrims for Mass was overwhelming.

At the end of the liturgy, an enormous incense burner was hoisted high above the dirty and tired pilgrims. Incense filled the sacred space, a balm for our weary bodies. We were finally home - but the Camino did not end at the cathedral.

The real Camino is the journey we make each day. Each human person is on a Camino. Jesus is our Way. When our eyes are open to see the Lord in the details of our lives, revealing God's goodness in the tiniest flower and each face on the street, we will have learned what the Russian pilgrim set out to learn: to pray without ceasing. Buen Camino - blessed journey!

(Deacon Solomon serves at St. Joseph's parish in Greenfield Center.)[[In-content Ad]]

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