A Journey to Santiago de Compostela
Established through a generous anonymous donation and managed directly by our faculty, the AIS Summer Travel Study and Research Grant Program supports the professional development of teachers each summer. One of this year’s recipients shares her story in this issue.
In July of 2004 I embarked upon a spiritual journey to Spain. Along with four other travelers I chose to walk sections of the El Camino de Santiago or The Way of Saint James. For those of you unfamiliar with this story, The Way of Saint James entered history early in the ninth century when the remains of the Apostle Saint James (the Great) were discovered in a field in northwestern Spain. The location of this discovery later became known as the city of Santiago de Compostela. To find his remains so far away from where he was martyred in Jerusalem was considered a miracle and thus began the practice of the faithful making the pilgrimage to Santiago for the salvation of their souls. While pilgrimages of those earlier centuries were undertaken for specific religious purposes, the resurrection of the pilgrimage route in the early 1980s was a phenomenon of broader spiritual development. Since that time, people young and old have come once again from all over the world to walk, run, bicycle, ride on horseback, or motor El Camino.
My journey began in Roncesvalles on the border of Spain and France and ended in Santiago, 750 kilometers away. Our guide selected 10-15 mile routes per day for us to walk the most diverse terrain, the most interesting villages, and the most memorable historic cathedrals and buildings in order to maximize the experiences of our 14-day trip. It is hard to speak of highlights because my walk was as much about my internal reverie as it was about the external steps I took. Yet I do have to mention a few of my favorite sites.
Early in the walk we came upon an eight sided stone church in Eunate, Navarre. Though no longer in use, it still carried the voice of the Templars of Jerusalem who founded the church in the 12th century. Stonebuilders left their mark on each stone. Carvings in the floor stones told who was buried there as well. The pristine little village of Burgette, where in his day Ernest Hemingway could be found fishing, found my little group outrunning a herd of frightened cows. After the herd passed our guide explained that the shepherd had yelled for one of us to jump in the road and stop the runaways. Hmmm. A request none of us seemed unhappy to have declined. The town square or plaza in Pamplona comes alive in the late afternoon when families, peddlers and musicians, and young and old lovers alike come out to stroll, shop, and visit. Actually this was the custom in all towns and cities and I learned to enjoy the plazas of my journey immensely. I also found myself at home in what became my favorite church of the pilgrimage, the Cathedral of Santo Domingo de la Calzada. The entire small town was the work of St. Dominic, a hermit of the 11th century, who spent his life building roads and bridges in the surrounding area to facilitate the pilgrim travelers. The Cathedral is still used; a wedding of huge proportions was in progress when we visited. The most unusual thing about the church, however, is the occupation at all times of a live cock and hen in a cage kept inside the entrance of the church. The story tells us that a young maiden smitten with a traveling pilgrim made advances which he declined; she then wrongfully accused him of theft and he was set to be hanged. The young man’s family begged for mercy from the village magistrate. The magistrate, who was eating a hen at the time, said in sarcasm that he would only free the young man if the hen he was eating got up and walked off the table. It did and the young man’s life was saved. The cock and hen tradition lives and is seen symbolically everywhere in the village of Santo Domingo.
Perhaps the most immense and impressive of the cathedrals, aside from that of Santiago de Compostela, was the Burgos Cathedral. This elegant Gothic cathedral has been declared a World Heritage Site and is most famous for the beautiful openwork spires of its external towers and its well-illuminated intricate stained glass windows. In contrast to such an elegant site was the primitive village of Cebreiro in the mountains of Galicia. The village, believed to be of Celtic origin, also houses the small church of Santa Marie where a 15th century miracle of host transfiguration was to have occurred. Cebreiro was a difficult and steep five mile ascent that occurred on our tenth day out. It is often at Cebreiro that vision and insight surface for the pilgrim. You wonder why you chose to undergo the pilgrimage, or why you have blisters to show for it rather than a more typical gift in return. Actually, there can be a moment of reckoning anywhere on the path. It can be an expected insight to the traveler or a lesson provided without even the pilgrim knowing why. The reason I chose to walk this path is simple: I wanted to be open to El Camino’s teaching—to listen, to hope, to renew. I am so glad I walked as I did.
I will finish with the purification process that at journey’s end all pilgrims find necessary before passing from the Camino to daily life. The burning of objects—boots, socks, walking stick—is common. Some pilgrims, if they go on to Finisterre (beyond Santiago de Compostela to the coast) bathe in the Atlantic Ocean. But most pilgrims pay homage at the Pilgrim’s Mass at the Cathedral Santiago de Compostela. Words cannot say enough of its size, beauty, and importance to the faithful, many of whom fall to their knees and weep at their arrival. The Pilgrim’s Mass is offered once a day, more on weekends; during a Holy Year, it is offered several times a day to accommodate the arrival of so many pilgrims. Names of pilgrims are read, mercies are chanted, sacrifices are left, and prayers for all the world are offered.
I am truly grateful for this shared human experience of walking. My journey binds me forever with those who have gone before and those who have yet to come.