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Cornwall Cathedrals Copyright

 

CAMINO FRANCES SPIRITUAL

 

People frequently ask, "What is the Camino, The Way of Saint James?" or "Why are you walking the Camino?"

James was a fisherman in Galilee called by Jesus at the beginning of his ministry, and became an Apostle. He is thought to have spent a number of years preaching in Northern Spain (Called "Finis Terrae" by the Romans to indicate the "end of the world"), before returning to Palestine in 44 A. D. where he was murdered by Herod. The followers of St. James carried his body back to Spain by boat and the current delivered it to the port of Iria Flavia, the province's Roman capital. St. James was buried secretly in a nearby wood. Centuries later, in 813, a hermit named Pelayo (Paio) saw a shining in a wood, and the location was called "Campus Stellae" (Field of the Star), a name that was later to become "Compostela". After an investigation, the tomb of the Apostle was discovered. King Alphonse II of Spain declared Saint James as his patron saint and had a chapel built and the name of the place became Santiago after "Sant Iago or St. James". The original chapel soon became the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela and more and more pilgrims followed the way of Santiago, the "Way of Saint James". St. James is the only one of the apostles to be buried in Western Europe, hence his interest to pilgrims.

So The Way of Saint James has a pedigree going back over 1,000 years and people have been making pilgrimages for this length of time. For many people, it is the religious nature of the pilgrimage which drives them to do it.

Mine was a non-religious calling! The Way appears to the newcomer as a 800 km path from France across Northern Spain that is well defined and well signposted, with the added attraction of "Albergues" which offer a bed to pilgrims at a very low cost, typically for 5 to 10 euros per night. The "Pilgrim Passport or Credential" system whereby the albergues and other stopping places offer stamps or "sellos" each time you stop adds a sense of achievement as one's passport becomes accredited.

But having said that I joined The Way as a long distance walk with convenient mapping and accommodation, I have to admit that I found The Way to be more! It is a time for personal reflection. A period of convening with nature and enjoying the comradeship of other pilgrims, and I can see how people find it life changing. For someone retired it was a challenge to step outside of the normal comfort zone, to accept a new challenge that one had not taken on before. Perhaps with the intransigeance of life this is the way to achieve fulfilment.

I found myself walking to the words of a poem by John Clare, studied at Grammar School at the age of 14 when such things were totally incomprehensible. But in later life the words become more meaningful:-

 

WHAT IS LIFE?  By John Clare

           AND what is Life ?-An hour-glass on the run,
           A mist retreating from the morning sun,
             A busy, bustling, still repeated dream;
           Its length?-A minute's pause, a moment's thought;
            And happiness?-A bubble on the stream,
           That in the act of seizing shrinks to naught.

           What are vain Hopes ?-The puffing gale of morn,
           That of its charms divests the dewy lawn,
             And robs each flow'ret of its gem-and dies;
           A cobweb hiding disappointment's thorn,
             Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise.

           And thou, O Trouble?-nothing can suppose
           (And sure the power of wisdom only knows)
            What need requireth thee:
           So free and liberal as thy bounty flows,
             Some necessary cause must surely be.
           But disappointments, pains, and every woe
            Devoted wretches feel,
           The universal plagues of life below,
            Are mysteries still 'neath Fate's unbroken seal.

           And what is Death? is still the cause unfound?
           That dark, mysterious name of horrid sound?-
             A long and lingering sleep, the weary crave.
           And Peace? where can its happiness abound?-
            Nowhere at all, save heaven, and the grave.

           Then what is Life?-When stripp'd of its disguise,
            A thing to be desir'd it cannot be;
           Since everything that meets our foolish eyes
            Gives proof sufficient of its vanity.
           'Tis but a trial all must undergo;
             To teach unthankful mortals how to prize
           That happiness vain man's denied to know,
             Until he's call'd to claim it in the skies.

            
         1818