As I walked the Camino del Norte about three weeks into my journey, I was a little ahead of my projected schedule. I had previously read about the Camino Lebaniego which split off from the del Norte and traveled four days south through the Picos de Europa and takes you to a monastery where the last large intact piece of the True Cross is kept. It is considered one of the most important Christian pilgrimage sites in the world.
I had spent some time in some terrain where I had the marks of bramble bushes with little cuts that were healing on my arms and legs. As I examined them the day before I arrived at the turn off towards the Lebaniego, I saw two cuts on the top of my right hand near the thumb that made the shape of a cross. I figured that this was the sign I needed to make my decision.
There is a reason that early Christians chose this site to protect the relics of the cross. The mountains are significant. The route is highly isolated and there are relatively few pilgrims on the route, even fewer from outside Spain. There are required stops for food and lodging because there are few services along the way. It is also one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.
Arriving at the monastery in the midst of busloads of tourists coming through, I walked into the square wearing my collar. A woman ran up to me, greeted me and asked if I wanted to join the priests to do the pilgrim mass. I told her that I was Protestant and she instead invited me to come to the chapel fifteen minutes ahead of the mass. She would clear out the tourists and give me some time alone in the 8th century chapel with the cross for prayer and contemplation. I gratefully took her up on her offer.
As I sat alone in the cool chapel after a long hot walk, I contemplated the cross and I was overwhelmed. Let me be clear, I do not hold a firm belief in relics. In the end, the veracity of claims made about its origins are not something I have spent a lot of time considering. A relic does, however, create a physical encounter with the story of its origin. I’m convinced that items like this get imbued with the power of their story whether or not they are truly from the place they are purported to be.
It prompted me to reflect on the horrors of empires that seek to control through power and violence. I could feel the pain and grief of those who stood at the cross with Christ. I felt a deep and direct connection to the events of Good Friday in this little chapel, alone with the cross. That experience stays with me to this day, almost as if those fifteen minutes were more clearly etched in my memory than most other things. It prompted me to feel ever more connected with seeking justice and creating space for tolerance, understanding and love.
Sacred moments like this are key reasons why I’m a person of faith. When a connection to divine spirit can transport you through time, imbed you into an experience and all of its emotions and implications, it is harder to deny the presence of that spirit. It is impossible to deny our connection to one another as a result of the connection with the spirit.
All of our communities of faith should be creating space for the sacred encounter and witness. We all need moments of connection and the occasional ‘reboot’ that reminds us that we are not just physical or intellectual beings. Our spiritual health and relationship to the world and all its joys and pains is not something to take lightly. In the world and the context in which we are living, it is more important than ever that we carve out some time for spirit connection and seeing the bigger picture. Time for our hearts to be reshaped and attuned to one another. I’m convinced it is what will change the world for the better and bring about the radical transformation we all need. I dream of our communities being that sacred space for connection and transformation.
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