Ben’s lips and jaw trembled. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
In a small cafe on the Camino de Santiago, or Way of St. James — an ancient pilgrimage route from parts of Europe through Spain to what tradition holds are the remains of St. James the Apostle — my brother, Paul, and I were discussing with Ben the reasons we were on this journey.
As we talked, Ben paused before explaining that he was walking the Camino to sort out what had happened between him and his late brother, Peter.
“You must have loved your brother very much,” said Paul, and Ben replied, “Apparently, not enough.”
We didn’t ask. It appeared there had been a rift, and Peter died without Ben present. It might have been a violent death, or a death foreseen and Ben had not been invited to be there for his brother. Paul invited Ben to forgive himself, knowing the mercy of God and the difficulty we can have in accepting God’s mercy. Ben tried, then and there. He said he couldn’t. He was not ready.
We had met Ben briefly the day before, and as we entered the cafe on this sunny afternoon, he gestured broadly for us to join him at his table. And now we explained to Ben, who shared his first name and that he came from Germany, that back on the trail he was our St. Raphael, an angel come to take our photo.
Paul and I were preparing to take a selfie at a well-known marker showing 100 kilometers to go before reaching our destination, Santiago de Compostela, when Ben suddenly appeared, handling rosary beads and asking if he might take the photo. We accepted and volunteered to take his picture, an offer he declined as he moved on.
In the cafe, we thanked him for that unexpected assistance and talked about the divine providence of meeting up with him again. Ben interjected: “No, I think you were here for me. I needed this.” He excused himself, explaining he wanted to take all this in.
We didn’t see Ben again. But he remains in our prayers.
That is an example of providence on the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage that encompasses many different routes to the Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela and the relics of St. James. Backpacks, walking sticks, strong coffee, almond cake (Santiago cake) and great comaraderie with fellow seekers are part of being on the way. As he does always in every situation, the Lord walks with each pilgrim, or peregrino, providing guidance, grace and understanding. But that accompaniment seems to manifest in a more transparent way on the Camino, because that is the environment created by the effort. Hearts and minds are opened.
In our March 19 through April 1 trip this year, one woman shared that she was walking the Camino because she knew God in her head, but she hadn’t felt him in her heart. Another woman said she wanted to do the Camino because she was often too eager to please others, and she wanted the discernment and strength to do what the Lord seemed to be calling her to do. We spoke with people from Brazil, the Czech Republic, Ireland, Denmark, Australia, the United Kingdom and points in between who shared their own spiritual, physical and psychological reasons for doing the Camino.
Paul — assistant director of human formation and director of counseling services at The St. Paul Seminary in St. Paul — walked the Camino eight years ago on a route from France across northern Spain. He wanted to walk the Portuguese Way, and he invited me. I eagerly accepted.
My preparation included several walks of five to 10 miles that helped break in a pair of tennis shoes and a pair of hiking boots with special inserts that cushioned the blow to a long-ago broken toe. My brother gifted me with an interior frame backpack that carried just what we needed and that fit as carry-on luggage for the trans-Atlantic flights. We brought much-needed rain gear, light clothing, a hat and a wool sweater.
Listen to Joe Ruff’s April 11 interview about the Camino on the “Practicing Catholic” radio program
More important, I sought prayer petitions from family, colleagues and friends. I wrote them down in a prayer journal and prayed with them over and over. I was grateful to feel the Lord’s power through prayer in ways I had not experienced before this trip.
We had minor challenges, including a deeply embedded wooden splinter and infection in my right hand that required three stops to hospitals in Portugal and Spain for antibiotics to carry me through the trip and into surgery as soon as I got back to St. Paul.
The first of those stops led to a train ride partway up the trail so we could be sure to finish the pilgrimage on time. After disembarking, we walked six days of 10 to 15 miles each day, more than enough for the 60 miles needed to earn our certificate of completion, spelled out in Latin, at the cathedral.
On a practical note, the way is carefully marked for pilgrims with periodic stone markers indicating the number of kilometers remaining to reach Santiago de Compostela. The locals spray paint yellow arrows pointing the way on roads and highways, buildings and power poles. For sleeping, there are bunk bed arrangements in hostels or private rooms in pensions with shared restrooms, and even elegant hotels. Coffee shops and restaurants are readily found.
Paul and I walked through major cities and industrial areas. We walked dirt paths through eucalyptus trees and along swiftly running streams. We walked on cobblestone and gravel, grass and concrete. We found ourselves gazing at open vistas onto beautiful small farms, many growing grapes, with those working in the fields using shovels or at most small earth turners. There were roosters and chickens, horses, sheep, cows, cats and dogs. Neighbors visited one another at all hours of the day. It seemed to be a healthy culture and economy of small farms. We attended Mass each day that we could — another wonderful gift.
At the end, we enjoyed the special noon peregrino Mass at the cathedral, which includes a giant thurible of incense hoisted up and swung back and forth by six men heaving on large ropes. Watching the joyful, crazy ride of the thurible, with the incense rising, we sent still more of our prayers to heaven.
The author is editor-in-chief of The Catholic Spirit.
