When I got home from the first phase of this pilgrimage last year — an amazing, uplifting, spiritually edifying four weeks — I told my wife my concern that the second phase, based on everything I’d read about the Camino Francés that I’m currently walking, was going to be a huge letdown in comparison. I’ve spent almost a year managing my expectations based on that concern.
Now that I’m probably about a week away from Santiago de Compostela, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about whether this second phase of the Camino has met even my low expectations. The truth is, I’m not sure.
Today’s walk took me through some of the most enjoyable natural beauty since I left France. Forests, mountains, livestock grazing. What a change from a week of endless plateau!
However, the highlight of the day should have been the Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross. I remember the poignant scene in the Emilio Estevez film The Way where one of the characters lays bare the real reason for her Camino at the foot of the Cross.
When I reached the Cross, surrounded by selfie-takers with law enforcement looking on for some reason, I felt … nothing.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had some enjoyable experiences on this journey. I’ve met some great people.
However, the crowds have gotten to me. The complete absence of trail etiquette has gotten to me. The offensive pilgrim meals have gotten to me. The government routing the Camino through villages that have no apparent historical connection to the pilgrimage has gotten to me. The cathedrals that want money just to go in and pray have gotten to me. The churches that no longer have real candles to light have gotten to me. The people who say they seek something spiritual along the Camino but automatically reject the Spirit that drew people here for centuries have gotten to me.
And I haven’t even gotten to Sarria yet, which is where everyone says the real circus begins.
Perhaps the problem is me. As low as I set my expectations, perhaps they were still too high.
Today, I was thinking about how, on some Sundays, I feel like I didn’t get much out of Mass, except for the knowledge that I fulfilled my obligation to worship God as I should, because ultimately it’s about Him and not me.
As I’ve written before, I don’t know why I feel called to this pilgrimage. I’ve seriously thought about quitting several times over the last two weeks. What keeps me going is the thought that, if I quit now, it would somehow make last year’s unforgettable journey in vain.
