On Arriving in Santiago

At 4:00pm on Saturday afternoon, we named Amy “Lorena.” Camino tradition has it that the first person atop Monte de Gozo (mountain of joy) who spots the long-awaited cathedral in Santiago becomes king, or queen, for the day. The boys were vying for the privilege of becoming “Le Roi” (King Lee Roy!), but Amy spotted the spires among the tall pines across the valley first. Since the Spanish word for queen is “reina,” Lorena seemed the most appropriate designation. After a quick visit to the nearby chapel, and another requested round of both of our two original pilgrimage songs, we again headed West, with Lorena leading the way through the valley and into the city of Santiago.

Our last night was not spent as a traditional pilgrims would have spent their last night along the Camino… but it didn’t bother us one little bit to spend it in the lap of luxury instead of curled up by a fire along a creek or in a densely forested wood! The Paxo do Areana, a few miles off the Camino in Pedrouzo, is a 300 year-old Spanish manor house that is now a county inn, a haven for pilgrims and other Galician travelers. The original stone stables have become a very comfortable suite of rooms for tired pilgrims, and the grounds and gardens are still immaculate. Dinner, three courses served in the main house, was amazing, and we were treated to an unusual, slightly spooky indulgence following the meal.

In the middle ages, when penitents began walking to Santiago to pay homage to the bones of St. James and to seek absolution for their sins, more than Christian mystery and ritual (and a healthy amount of its own superstition) was alive and well in the hills of Galicia. There were spirits and goblins, witches and warlocks running loose. The “queimada” (kay mahdu) was developed as a pagan ritual to cleanse its participants of the curse (or the power to curse) of the evil spirits which ran amuck in the land. A potion of coffee beans, sugar, lemons, and a liquid spirit that might as well have been kerosene, was boiled in a black cauldron and then lit and stirred until the flame died. While it's burning, the fiery brew is lifted high with a ladle and released, over and over, back into the cauldron. As the potion was prepared, a pagan priest/ess read an incantation which, in combination with the consumed potion, was to protect the innocent from the harms of the night. As our hostess prepared the traditional brew (including the traditional kerosene spirit!), Kate, our guide, read the enchantment – the only line of which any of us can remember is the naming, among dozens of other evil spirits, of “the eternal flatulence of everlasting bums” (OK, so that was Kate’s Bri’ ish interpretation, but our Galician host agreed that she had pretty well nailed the original content!) Well… a sip or two of this magical potion was all we could take – but it must have been enough. At 5:45 pm today the Deans of Park Road Baptist Church were standing in the plaza of the spectacular cathedral, and a few minutes later, had collected our official “Compostela,” complete with our Latin names, and authorization of Rome.

Our "compostelas" will make a nice souvenir, an interesting conversation piece – but arriving at the cathedral, though spectacular in its architecture, and collecting our official document, was almost a let-down. I simply cannot put into words this experience… the physical exertion, the camaraderie along the way, the inspiring views, the connection to a thousand-year history (walking in the footsteps of countless thousands of other pilgrims), the family bonding, and the spiritual anticipation… Our prayer had been that we might find “The More” along the way… and “more” hardly scratches the surface.

Daily, we prayed and sang together. Daily, we read letters that many of you had prepared before we left Charlotte. Daily, as we passed the frequent marking stones, engraved with the ubiquitous scallop shell and either a directional marking or a number indicating the diminishing distance in kilometers, we placed a rock on the top, naming a friend or family member, or a family member from Park Road Baptist Church – so many of you, literally, became our prayers of thanksgiving as we walked. And when we arrived in the square in front of the cathedral, upon that final shell, etched in the stone pavement, we placed a rock and named Park Road Baptist Church. So even here, so far from home, you are connecting us to an ancient Christian history… you are woven into this experience of a lifetime… you are helping us to see God…

Even here, you are with us, and even here -- we are grateful.

Russ, Amy, Jackson and Bennett