Again? Are you walking in Spain, again? (Day 1: Traveling to Porto)

This is my third Camino in four years, and some of my friends hear of this endeavor and say, “again?”  Almost to suggest that doing the same experience twice  is peculiar.  I don’t disagree with them. Traveling almost 4,000 miles to walk 200 is an odd experience for a one time deal, let alone for a repeat experience. But I suppose the same could be said if I told someone I am ingesting the body and blood of a Savior more than once; this is all the more peculiar if I said I do it every week.

John Weborg, a beloved spiritual director and professor, from North Park Seminary, would often tell the story of the Episcopalian and the practice of weekly Eucharist. When his Baptist friends would ask, “why do you take the Eucharist every week? Doesn’t it become routine?” The Episcopalian responded, “Because by Monday I have forgotten who I am.” 

Most of us have forgotten who we are amidst managing the mundane mixed with the extraordinary chaos that comes with changes in jobs, families, and our bodies.  I keep believing that managing my life by doing more with the mundane and fixing more in times of chaos will sooner or later unfold my life in such

a way that I will “arrive” and be clear on who I am. But there is nothing in the Christian tradition that suggests productivity is the way to clarity. In most aspects of the tradition, it is the opposite. Remembering who I am comes by slowing down and taking small bites and simple steps. (Kate Bowler has a great poem/prayer/blessing on Twitter yesterday related to forgetting who we are).

The Camino is similar to the Episcopalian’s eucharist for me. It is where I find the space and time to dwell in the presence of the Lord. Some folks can do this in the quiet of their rooms, or in modest church sanctuaries, or even through meditation. But for me and my energy, it takes something more drastic to get and to keep my attention. Even more, I long for prolonged periods of time to unwind from the intense inner life and external noise in favor of a long and slow walk. I walk slowly alone and eat simple meals with a few others. I recognize the privilege of doing the Camino again, and desire to have integrity in engaging the practice. I’m hopeful to find my life in God through this old practice of pilgrimage.

 Luther’s apocryphal statement that a daily bath is a reminder of our baptism, mirrors my belief that a daily walk is a reminder of a pilgrimage. I walk daily (less so since I moved to South Carolina) and daily walks, whether alone or with a conversation partner, are mini-rehearsals of the pilgrimages that cover weeks and hundreds of miles. I can catch a taste of the pilgrim life by a walk through downtown Holland, on the shore of Lake Michigan, through the Reedy Falls of Greenville, or around AU’s campus. But there is still something sacred about the intentional multi-week pilgrimage that puts the body under duress, invites slowness, and calls forth attention with God. So this is why I do it again and again. This is why I invite others to join me.

 I write this from a coffee shop in AMS - Schipol Airport. This is not a slow or relaxing place; it is bustling today, and I can sense my body’s wrestling with the noise around me. I cannot decide if I want to join it by scrolling my phone, listening to loud music, watching another show, or bustling about trying to find a charger. I sat in several places today until my body finally found a soft surface to unwind. The process of unwinding is not without a restlessness that says write more, watch more, read more, do more. The anxiety of sitting is demonstrated by back spasms, twitching legs, and shifting shoulders. My body wants to let the energy go, but the process of release seems as noisy as this global airport. 

So again I will go through the practice of pilgrimage. And pray my body will unwind like a Tiger in the jungle after a hunting spree (See Peter Levine, Waking the Tiger). The process of unwinding is not painless but worthwhile as I come down from the spinning and bustling of daily mid-life and into the presence by taking small bites and simple steps. Hopefully, I will taste and see that the Lord is good.