A Camino Pilgrimage: What else could we possibly be made for?

We first received the invitation to pilgrimage in late November of 2023. The Rev. Matt Babcock and The Rev. Nicole Lambelet proposed this unusual and intriguing adventure to join them on the Camino de Santiago in June of 2024: six days of walking on the Camino Frances from Sarria to Santiago and 10 total days of travel. A beautiful assortment of 26 would-be pilgrims, ages 18 to 79, signed up over the course of the next few weeks for various reasons: deeper discernment, exploration, time to listen and encounter God, entries into new seasons of life, space to ask more questions, to grieve, to open to possibility, and to trust in the hope of the unknown. For me, personally, my spirit was willing, but my flesh felt so weak. What about my responsibilities? What about caring for my dear mama? What about tending to my body that felt plagued by years of overuse and injury? What if? What if? What if? There was such uncertainty and such trepidation and therefore, an ongoing secret search for a “no” to this strange calling. And yet, at every opportunity for a “no,” there came a gentle and reassuring “yes” – from my mama, from doctors, from my closest friends, from two angels named Matt and Nicole, and from God.

On June 2, with 25 other voices who, too, offered their courageous “yes,” we embarked on a journey to Spain. We were a large group, especially once joining with St. Paul’s from Greenville, North Carolina, but somehow, we began to connect in such easy and natural ways – even while navigating the highs and lows of air travel, foreign airports, sleep deprivation, and lengthy bus rides. On the morning of Tuesday, June 4, shrouded by a soft, fog-like mist, we were ready to begin our 115 km trek from Sarria to Santiago, knowing very little of what would lie ahead, which was perhaps the point. Each of our six days was different, walking between 10 and 15 miles through all sorts of terrain. Sometimes, we walked through dense woodlands and eucalyptus forests; sometimes, we climbed steep, rocky ascents (which made me rejoice and be glad for trekking poles!); sometimes, we walked on the sides of highways lined by farmlands and rich vegetation. Expansive wildflower meadows filled with deep purples and vibrant yellows became familiar as did the sight of massive windmills stretching their tall necks and circulating heads above the distant horizon. All along these varying vistas of the Way, we encountered strangers, offering and receiving the common greeting “Buen Camino!” with joy and welcome. No matter our origins, here we were connected, joined by a common pattern of footfalls, a common acceptance of call, and on a common path traveled by millions of pilgrims over centuries. Throughout the course of each day, this path became a place of belonging, of acceptance, of encouragement. Conversations shared among fellow pilgrims – former strangers – now friends – gave rhythm and depth to the meditative walking, and, though clearly important, each day’s destination did not seem to matter. On one infamous day, some beloved pilgrims, without realizing it, overshot our designated stop by miles. It was and is always about the journey – the shared talks, stories, questions, wonderings, laughter, sightings, silence, and of course, the charming cafes where we would stop, rest, and enjoy a café con leche and delicious meals along the way. Our collective steps, mingling with our breath, brought us closer – to each other, to our Creator, and to our true selves. We were stripped down to what was essential – our bodily needs and what we carried on our backs – and better able to listen to our soul needs – so far away from the comforts we had left behind. The harsh interruption of the fearful “what if?” faded into a gentle, reminding whisper of “right here,” as the daily walking woke us up and called us to pay attention to where our feet were. One step at a time. It’s extraordinary how clear our vision can become when we let go of the distractions that often hinder and even blind us. This letting go can be scary, and this letting go can begin the most liberating dance.

It was not just the daily walking that brought rhythm to our days but also what waited for us once we landed in each destination. Each evening at 6pm, we would gather our tired soles and deepened souls for evening prayer and time for reflection on “the heart of our day.” Matt, Nicole, or Andrew (rector of St. Paul’s) would also lead us through a portion of their carefully selected quote by Howard Thurman, which provided another guide for our journey:

“There is in every person an inward sea, and in that sea there is an island and on that island there is an altar and standing guard before that altar is the 'angel with the flaming sword.' Nothing can get by that angel to be placed upon that altar unless it has the mark of your inner authority. Nothing passes 'the angel with the flaming sword' to be placed upon your altar unless it be a part of 'the fluid area of your consent.' This is your crucial link with the Eternal.”

Like the visible sign posts that marked the path, these words lived in and among and between us throughout our days on the Camino. They challenged and directed us, even as they brought up more questions and provoked further discussion. What churns in our sea? What is on our altar? To whom/what do I give my consent? Where/what is my connection to God? These questions became threads in our dinner-time conversations, which, despite the early call to rise, often lasted late into the evening; we were in Spain after all. It was a gift to stay with these particular words of Thurman and let them soak in over the course of our journey and even now, five weeks since our return.

Many may think our journey ended with our triumphant entry into the plaza of the Cathedral of St. James that Sunday, the elation and emotion visible on our faces and in the way we embraced each other. Some may think it ended with our moving eucharist shared in Santiago’s beautiful Anglican church that evening, while others, when we finally arrived home. However, what we pilgrims know now is that our journey has actually just begun. How will we live into what the Camino taught us and gave us so generously? Some of us have already planned our next Camino while others have had to dig into more pressing realities, but all of us, I am confident, have a flicker of new life – like a pilot light – awakened inside, reminding us of what is possible when we open up to something new and put our faith in our active, imaginative, and ever-creative God. We get to choose now how to live, how to remember, how to awaken again. And continue to walk – whatever that might look like.

I do not think I have ever been so thrilled to see a group of humans in my life than at church the first Sunday after our Camino. It had been only four days since we pilgrims had last been together, but the depth of our connection and shared experience made me feel “home” again in their presence. And perhaps this is one of the many Camino gifts that continues to give. I had imagined this trip would cultivate a lot of solo time – for discernment to take place between me and God only. However, new relationships and deep friendships forged along the Way have dazzled both my mind and heart and allowed me the freedom to become more myself and remember my true self. Could there be more important discernment? Saying “yes” – albeit reluctantly – to this pilgrimage has been, is still, and will continue to be one of the most profound blessings of my life. All thanks be to God. I have surely been transformed; we have surely been transformed, but we are not done yet. As the journey continues, we will keep walking, steadied by the love of God and of each other. What else could we possibly be made for?

Thank you, St. Luke’s, for your prayerful presence with us along the Way.