I set off for Santiago de Compostela in the darkness, flashlight in hand, unable to sleep any longer in anticipation of the final 20km walk. There was an odd mix of relief and sadness at the thought of completing an extraordinary journey that had taken me across the vast and enchanting landscape of two countries, provided new friends from around the globe, and instilled a newfound and profound appreciation for the absent creature comforts of home. I had been walking (or limping) for 2 weeks now, and I felt clear and focused as I prepared to head out into the darkness of the early morning. Emotions stirring, I took one more look at the prayer cards I'd been carrying in my rucksack.
Santiago is a comparatively large city of 100,000 residents in the northwest corner of Spain, in the autonomous community of Galicia. The area now occupied by the city began as a Roman cemetery in the 4th century, and it grew in importance as the Roman Empire collapsed in the centuries that followed. Following the crucifixion, the apostle James the Great came to this northernmost portion of Spain, formerly referred as Finis Terrae, or "end of the world" in Latin, to preach and convert the people of the Iberian Peninsula to Christianity. Establishing a church in this region of the world proved difficult, and James returned to Palestine in 44. A.D. where he was taken prisoner by King Herod, beheaded, and thus became the first martyred apostle of the Christian church. His supporters returned his remains to the Iberian Peninsula, to rest alongside the fledging church he'd worked to establish there.
Tradition holds that centuries later, a shepherd named Pelayo saw a bright light in the sky over the city, and he followed the phenomenon until he reached a burial mound, where the remains of the apostle St. James had been laid to rest all those years prior. The bishop Teodomiro being informed of the events in the field, commissioned an investigation, whereupon the remains were discovered and authenticated, and moved to a chapel that eventually became the imposing and awe-inspiring Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.
Santiago = St. James
Compostela = Campus Stella, Latin for "field of stars"
St. James of the Field of Stars. Simply beautiful.
I knew I was approaching Santiago as the density of buildings and people began to increase. Before long, I had crossed a long bridge over the River Sar, and reached the city's welcome sign, confirming the journey was nearing an end. The path through the city was not as well marked as the winding roads I'd followed to get here, but I knew I had to reach the Plaza do Obradoiro, and there was a sea of backpacks ahead of me. Adrenaline took over, and I felt no pain for those final 3km through the city.
I'd been walking towards the city center for about 20 minutes, when I turned a corner, and saw the top of the first spire of the cathedral. My heart skipped a beat and I smiled, hesitating for a moment before digging my hiking poles into the concrete again and pressing ahead. The streets grew narrower, and the clamor of the city grew louder. The atmosphere was full of positive tension, those ahead knowing what we were about to encounter as we made the final turn through the tunnel that emptied pilgrims and tourists alike into the plaza. A lone bagpipe player stood at the far end of the tunnel, his traditional tunes drowning out all other sound as they reverberated off of the concrete. I walked through the tunnel, stopped at the end, and closed my eyes.
I've lived my entire life as an overly sentimental sort of guy; emotions on my sleeve, never really afraid to shed a tear. It's an asset, I think, and it has kept me honest in my interactions with others by not allowing me to mask or misconstrue my feelings about a particular situation or series of events. Emotion fuels me, and yet, I still wasn't ready for what came next.
Momentarily blinded by the bright midday Spanish sun, I walked into the center of the Plaza do Obradoiro and turned around to see the magnificent façade of the Cathedral of St. James. I was exhausted, and I undid my pack, setting it down behind me before turning around for a second, longer look. As if recognizing the end of the journey, my knees wouldn't bend anymore, so I leaned forward and touched my forehead to the top of my hiking poles, gave thanks, and wept.
For an emotional guy, it was a completely unexpected and powerful wave that overtook me as I slowly crouched down to the concrete, and then sat down in the plaza for some undetermined period of time. It wasn't over, but I was here. I made it. I'd climbed one of my mountains, and for as tired and completely spent as my body was, I felt as though there was no challenge I couldn't face. Using my rucksack as a pillow, I laid down in the plaza, closed my eyes, and in one breath, released 37 years of burdens into a gentle Spanish breeze.
I was close, but I wasn't finished. St. James was in the crypt beneath the altar, and we hadn't met just yet. I wandered a few blocks over to the official pilgrim's office, checked my pack, and applied for my Compostela. Then, I made my way back over to the cathedral, and went inside to be awestruck once more.
When you walk into the cathedral, you approach the altar from the right-hand side, unable to immediately appreciate how grandiose it really is. As you make your way to the center of the cathedral, you notice the spotless silver botafumeiro, which swings majestically across the transept of the church, perfuming the pilgrims who once had no warm showers on the way to Santiago. The first reference to the botafumeiro is made in the Codex Calixtinus, a 12th century manuscript meant to provide pilgrims on the Camino with practical advice, sermons, and other liturgical texts often associated with St. James. Photos and video are not permitted during the service, but you can get an idea of what the botafumeiro is like in action here: https://youtu.be/w9JmVHthZYI
Behind the high altar stands a statue of St. James, also dating from the 12th century, followed by a long line of pilgrims in a queue to climb the stairs to hug and kiss the statue, a centuries-old tradition of thanksgiving for safe passage and arrival at the cathedral.
Beneath the altar, in a 19th century silver ossuary housed in a cold and simple room, are the remains attributed to St. James the Apostle. There was a simple pew with a kneeler in the center of a circular space, where most visitors would stop silently for a moment or kneel in prayer, and quickly snap a photo before climbing back out of the chamber. It's hard to know whether the relics contained within the ossuary are in fact those of St. James, but it was clear to me in that moment that it didn't matter. Reverence, prayer, and gratitude were the order of the day, and this is where I had come to have my prayers and petitions heard. I knelt for a few moments and supplied my own prayers of thanksgiving, before climbing back into the main hall.
The first part of the journey was over. I still had to find my way to Madrid to deliver the prayers collected from the congregants at St Elizabeth's, but first I'd return for the pilgrim's mass at noon the following day. Even so, there was closure in that moment as I walked out of the cathedral, and back into the main plaza. I looked over my shoulder at the archway I'd walked through to reach my destination, and saw the end of one road, and the beginning of another. Taking the next step, would be the hardest part.
A part of me was gone, but something new was growing in its place. I left a piece of my heart on the Camino, and I knew I'd never look at another one of those silly yellow arrows the same way again.
Offered as the parting blessing following the pilgrim's mass in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela:
Father God we ask your blessing on these pilgrims who have come to venerate the tomb of your Apostle Santiago.
As you kept them safe on their Camino way, may you keep them safe on their journey home. And, inspired by their experience here, may they live out the values of the Gospel as their pilgrimage through life continues.
We ask Saint James to intercede for us as we ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, your Son and our Redeemer.
Amen.
