Ten Steps at a Time
In a recent audit of our camp equipment in search of an excuse to go to the outdoor store, I poked through our outdoorsing bins while asking of each item, “was this from the Camino or more recently?” Equipment purchased for that 30-day waltz across Spain would be understandably out of date; I could justify buying a new headlamp with more than a piddly 70 lumens if it had been in use since that grant-funded-shoestring-budget trek 15 years ago. Post-Camino gear, however, would have to suffice until it broke down.
If you’ve seen the black and white photo in my office or have heard me talk about the Camino de Santiago, you might know that it was a physically painful slog. A 2-day flight delay to Madrid and subsequent missed trains, no financial safety net, and a 20-year old’s lack of rational logic meant that we had to get from St. Jean Pied du Port to Santiago (by foot) as fast as humanly possible to fulfill the promises we made in our grant proposal.
On day one, my Camino buddy and I ran up and slid down the soggy Pyrenees, still stiff from the delayed planes, re-booked trains, and last-minute two-hour taxis. What I now know was profound Achilles tendinitis set in the first night, plaguing my Camino for the next 30 days.
I set west across the country ten painful steps at a time. “Ten more steps, then you can take a break.” “Get to that tree, then you can stop.” “Just down the hill, then you can rest.”
From Spain’s eastern border to its western end, ten steps at a time. But I kept going.
Eventually, I was forced to take a rest day. My Camino buddy could not fathom such a thing, so we separated. We hoped to connect again before our flight back to Madrid and then to the US at the end of the month. Neither of us had phones, but every few days we had access to Internet cafes and could share our whereabouts by posting on each other’s Facebook walls. We were extremely dramatic about the ordeal; anyone within 2 days walk of us knew the saga (recall, my Camino buddy and I were both 20).
In surprise to myself most of all, my Camino bloomed from that day on. I still had tendinitis, took far more ibuprofen than I realized, and carried an astonishing limp the entirety of the journey, but it was manageable enough for me to traverse the requisite daily kilometers and discover the brilliance of the other pilgrims walking that same road.
Until that rest day, I hadn’t realized how little I’d listened to the stories of our fellow travelers; how uninterested I had been in inviting them into my own story. Taking a breath for just one day not only let me focus on my own body and spirit, but also opened me in an unexpected way to the journeys of others. In turn, these strangers of all ages and country developed a holy belonging with one another; all solo on the trek, and yet very much together.
As a congregation we’ve just finished a 3-week breath though our series, Unhurried. We focused on our own bodies and spirits through scripture, story, and meditation, remembering to find God by the still waters, to put down our to-do list and notice our bodies, and to pause.
After this collective breath, it is my prayer that we have listened to our own bodies and spirits in such earnest that we have even more spaciousness for the listening and sharing of those bodies and spirits that walk this same road with us.
In worship these next weeks, we’ll consider our fellow travelers. What brings us from solo travelers on the way to companions together on the road? What makes a church a community where we find belonging?
Sometimes, this journey is slow. Some of us have been part of a community- perhaps this community- for years without feeling that comforting spark of belonging. It can feel like you’re trying to walk across an entire country, ten steps at a time. Sometimes we need a rest day. Sometimes, in just as much a surprise to us as anyone else, that belonging suddenly blooms.
After I took a rest day on the Camino, I began to know the strangers who were also walking the trail. This motley crew quickly became friends who would drift in and out of each other’s days as we walked in parallel: like neighbors with no permanent address. Of those, some would share their stories, their grief, their hopes, their reason for walking the Way. It was these who shared deeply – and with whom I shared deeply of myself - that solidified into my Camino Family.
No longer solo travelers, we shared a holy belonging with one another. Each day we’d set our destination, stop at the same cafes, and break bread together at the end of a long day- each of us walking at our own pace. Sometimes together, sometimes apart, always looking out for each other on the road we shared.
This is the rhythm of our life together in faith. Whether you want to show more interest in the stories of others or you want to invite others into your own story, we’ll uncover our participation in God’s ongoing work of creating a beloved people who feel holy belonging- where we share with trust and listen with grace. Through invitation, meaningful conversation, and accompaniment, our community can offer more than just a welcome to we who happen upon it; we can discover the brilliance of others on this same journey of faith.
It can be a community where strangers become neighbors, neighbors become companions, and companions help one another follow Christ.
Since that first trip in 2011, I have yearned to walk the Camino again: this time with a little more disposable income, a more developed decision-making brain, the insight of 15 years, and my life’s partner to share it with. Until then, I walk this journey on shorter hikes not so far afield with the hope of holding the same curiosity and willingness to share that allows me to discover the brilliance of others walking the same road.
To get into the spirit of our series and meet First Church folks along the trail, it’s not too late to join our intergenerational First Church Hike and Scavenger Hunt this Saturday, August 22 at 10:00am! Spend the morning being curious about nature and your fellow travelers on the trail, making connections and experiencing the awe of God’s creation. It will not be as arduous as my Camino but will end with a group bring-your-own picnic lunch (as any good walk should)! Paul and I will be there, trekking shoes on and curiosity at the ready.
On the Saturday hike and in Sunday worship, come and see what brilliant and holy discoveries await in each of us. This week in Washington Park, perhaps next time in Spain!
Buen Camino,
Pastor Karyn
P.S. Thank you to Johnny, Darragh, Tim, Ali, Jake, Lars, Joanne, Caroline, Sam, Fred, and so many others for your curiosity, deep sharing, and willingness to walk the Way together.
