Camino 2017-09-25 & 26 - And On the Seventh Day He Rested

I took the train from Coimbra to Espinho, a suburb south of Porto. The walk from Espinho was uneventful. I had to first connect back to the Camino and that was to take a narrow rural highway road to the pueblo of Grijo. There weren't many good options and everything required cash.

If you know me well, you know I don't like cash. I've used electronic payments as a preference since freshman year in college 34 years ago. So I don't bring much with me and hope I can charge it all. Unfortunately I didn't expect so many eateries bring cash only. So I just ate my snacks and trudged on. I saw chestnuts on the ground but figured as snacks they'd be tastier cooked.

The cars on narrow roads are scary. Fortunately there aren't too many ways to get lost until you get to villages. I got lost twice but guessed correctly where to reconnect. Thank goodness for GPS on phones. Signs started to differ because blue signs pointed back to Fatima where I came and forward to Santiago. I ran into three German women heading to Fatima on one stretch of trail.

It occurred to me that I'll be gone a week by now. I've walked 105 miles, mostly on Camino but a good number on my rest days too. Seems like a lot in such a short time. Not a lot in terms of miles but in terms of life. Isn't that what our goals should be? Not how far we go but what we experience? And whether that experience brings us closer to God?

I enjoyed the quiet time alone, pondered my prayers, thought about my time in Fatima and soon found myself in bustling Porto. I toured the cathedral, and some Spaniards struck up a conversation with me in my halting Spanish regarding my Camino. 

They seemed as impressed with the Camino as they were the silver home of the holy sacraments on the cathedral. This unsettled me. I'm not trying to impress anyone with the Camino per se. I might take some pride at my ability to walk long distances but the reason I walk isn't for my ego. I feel God's presence on these pilgrimages very acutely and , well, that's intoxicating.

I found my apartment and was floored. I thought I was renting a room in a place but ended up getting a whole apartment. And it was a block from the exciting river walk area. And the dining room and kitchen had food and snacks. What a deal! Best of all? A combo washer and dryer.

I tested and explored the city, enjoying the sights and sounds, the food and the delicious port wine. And on the next day, I rested. 

Unlike Fatima where I was deep in prayer or in Lisbon where I toured Sintra to start my walking patterns, I slept in and didn't have an itinerary. I just rested.

It gave my a chance to think about this beautiful city and how it made its money harvesting the gold and labor of Brazil and other colonies. Explorer Henry the Navigator was born here and his statue is across the street from my apartment. It made me wonder about the tension between beauty and the means by which that beauty was acquired. Those means weren't civil, but were brutal and demeaning. 

So with every grand church filled with gold and silver, with every towering spire, with every joyful breathe of a bustling maritime society, I thought of the hard work of the laborers who died to meet the needs of their colonial powers.

And I wondered if they got to rest every seventh day.

Camino 2017 - Message in a Bottle

I was pondering all those letters people wrote, filled with petitions and prayers, which I was privileged to leave at Fatima. There they laid for hundreds to see, but who would read them?
I imagine Jesus would or Mary would and pray with us. But they can read our hearts already, can't they?

I wrote a letter too and left it there. What was I thinking? Why did I do it?

I was reflecting on this during my full day in Fatima. What came to me was an old song, a favorite of mine in high school.

Just a castaway
An island lost at sea
Another lonely day
With no one here but me
More loneliness
Than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair

I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle

A year has passed since I wrote my note
But I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life
But love can break your heart

I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle

Walked out this morning
Don't believe what I saw
A hundred billion bottles
Washed up on the shore
Seems I'm not alone at being alone
A hundred billion casatways
Looking for a home

I'll send an SOS to the world
I'll send an SOS to the world
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle

Oh 

The prayers and petitions are our messages, albeit not necessarily in a bottle. We send them out in despair, with hope that someone out there will respond. Will God help us? Will God save us?

And only hope keeps us somehow together. Life on earth as we know it, we yearn for love, and know that it can also break our hearts. Will God give us love? Will God break our hearts?

And like the song, as I delivered the letters, as I saw the thousands of people in prayer each day, I saw a hundred billion messages in a bottle.

And when we pray, we are all sending out an S.O.S. to the world. We are sending our prayers out to God. And there's a hundred billion messages in bottles out there waiting to be read.

I don't feel lonely with you praying with me on this pilgrimage, and I hope you don't feel alone while we pray with you. We don't need to be alone in feeling alone. May our petitions be heard, our tears of despair wiped dry, our all our bottles opened together.

Camino 2017-09-24 Real Rest, Different Guitar

I attended one final mass at Fatima before heading out. There were two other pilgrim backpacks at the back of the Basilica but I couldn't tell for sure who the pilgrims were. After that early service, I went to a majestic grove of olive trees next door, where the sun rose and bathed the field in orange light. I had a tree in mind because of its beauty and form. There a spread some of brother-in-law Tim, so that he can live among these trees and be first in line to talk about peace and restoration.

The bus trip to Coimbra was uneventful. I am largely skipping this walking segment and heading to Porto. I slept and would wake up seeing castles in the mist. Europe is like that, castles popping out for no reason whatsoever.

I got off the bus in Coimbra groggily and was trying to make out the street names when I slipped on a sidewalk that suddenly sloped to make a curb. I scraped me knee and could tell that I would be bleeding soon. I was hoping it wouldn't be a bad one. I started to feel sorry for myself when a young man helped me up. I said I was fine I think, and he smiled and walked away. I happened to be walking in that direction so I followed him. He took a ramp down while I took the stairs. And h wore shorts.

And I could see his false leg.

That made me think the rest of the morning. It's so easy to be inwardly focused when there are so many others with challenges far greater than our own. My first pilgrimage, I went in about me. I came out realizing it wasn't. And on this day of rest, when you have a chance to process what you've experienced, I got a good reminder in the morning.

I checked out the old cathedral which, when I compared to the new cathedral later in the day, turned out quite lovely and interesting. Be sure to ask for your pilgrim stamp I realized because that meant free admission here.

The university was a pleasant visit and it intrigued me that some of it was part of the first Jesuit college. Undoubtedly though to tourists, it's library was the star. Wildly ornate and gaudy, it looked more about wealth and show than substance. Given our current situation at home politically, I felt uncomfortable by this.

I walked down to the river and enjoyed a walk to the parks. I soaked in the laughter and merriment as many were line dancing to Portuguese rhythms. 

Then I caught a Fado show. Fado is a style of guitar music (on a Coimbra guitar) and singing that hints of balladeers and Hawaiians. It was sung and played by men wooing women originally. The unusual guitar is backed up with a regular one creating lovely textures. And I got my first port wine as part of this 10euro show.

I grabbed dinner and was disappointed that what started as a sunny pretty day turned into rain. I had hoped to enjoy a night out. Instead I was going to be resting in my hostal.

And that's good. I needed the rest. Like music, you need the quiet in between the notes.

Camino 2017-09-23 A Day in Fatima

Today was a day of sleep, rest, and prayer. That's pretty much it.

No tourism.

No shopping.

Just me with my thoughts. I prayed on the Valinhos Via Sacra, a remarkably simple nature walk to Aljustrel where the shepherd children were born. I sat and walked, but I had to return. Huge crowds were doing this in the morning in their tourist or prayer groups, and I couldn't move on the narrow path easily.

Which is ironic really. Most Camino pilgrims do it their own way on their own schedule. You can't at Fatima. There's a long schedule of activities going on all day at the various sanctuaries. It's a bit like Disneyland. You get to make your day, but within the proscribed event schedule.

The only thing of note that perhaps I want to share is that I left letters from home at the Chapel of Reconciliation. It's my favorite place in Fatima. It's an indoor-outdoor prayer spot. Mary is the visual focal point. But Jesus is just behind us and that makes sense for this place. If you're in a place where petitions are given, where we ask each other and Mary to pray with us, then the fact that she's staring out to Christ the whole time comforts me.

I did ponder my slight detachment from the devotion. Yes, I enjoy doing the rosary because like Taize, the repetition and rhythm allow me to tap in unison to the heartbeat of a group of people. To be one with them no matter our languages. And yet my love for Mary and communal prayer is always focused on Christ. I can see how non-Catholics view the worship of Mary as an end goal, which is where I differ with some here. To me, Mary is holding my hand, and I hers, as we pray together.

I ended the night again in vigil. It was windy and cold. The procession grew larger, to maybe 20,000 people. And we prayed together.

Camino 2017-09-22 I Want Jesus to Walk with Me

Today threatened to be a tough one. Depending on the trails I find, I could end up with 45km (28 miles)

So I already knew the hymn I needed to focus on today:

I want Jesus to walk with me

I want Jesus to walk with me

All along my pilgrim journey

Lord, I want Jesus to walk with me.

In my trials, Lord walk with me

In my trials, Lord walk with me

When my heart is almost breaking

Lord, I want Jesus to walk with me

In my sorrows, Lord walk with me

In my sorrows, Lord walk with me

When my heart is aching

Lord, I want Jesus to walk with me

When I'm in trouble, Lord walk with me

When I'm in trouble, Lord walk with me

When my head is bowed in sorrow

Lord, I want Jesus to walk with me.

It's a wonderful Gospel hymn that resonates with me. It's yearning for help, accepting of frailty, and yet powerfully committed to moving forward.

I didn't meet any pilgrims today. I perhaps did, hoping to find Jesus walking with me on this road to town. But it wasn't meant to be. And I was challenged. I had stunning views of riverfront farmlands for the first couple hours. This morphed into a more hilly forest walk. About halfway to Fatima I stopped at a church, aired out my feet, and snacked.

And then the uphill climb started. First the temperature swelled to the mid80s. But he uphill trudge through Monsanto wasn't enough. The Camino took you away from the highway for safety: right over a rocky, gravel-slipping trail with thorny plants grabbing at your clothing. And if that natural trial wasn't enough, the trail for a bit ran along side a barbed wire fence.

I stopped every few feet to suck down water and find my balance. Life can be like that don't you get think? Sometimes you just have to make sure you won't fall over.

I reach the top in a far slower time than had I followed the road. I rest at the picnic tables and peer at the town Minde below. Little did I know that I would again have to climb out of this valley on the other side.

I decided to pause to eat and get more liquids. But as I searched for a restaurant, an older woman started chatting with me. She was offering me some apples out of her bag, presumably from her yard. She wouldn't let me say no. So I took one and thanked her generosity, albeit I spoke in Spanish not Portuguese. And then she gave me more apples.

As I neared the top again, I saw windmills. It looked like Alto del Perdon outside of Pamplona, but without the cool statue.

I wanted to see Fatima in the distance but the forest made that impossible. I eventually made it down, found my hostal, napped and went into Fatima sanctuary space.

I won't recount the things I did but I appreciated the occasional "bom Caminho" comment.

I watched the pilgrims who come in on their knees. The congregants did the rosary together.

There's something amazing to me about a multilingual service. Every few minutes, the chant leader would switch out, usually with someone speaking a different tongue, and you'd hear a different representation of the readings. This is such a marvelous way to bind us together.we are one bread one body. It continued that way even into the night at the vigil.

The nightly procession was a good size of 7-10,000 people. It was definitely more organic than the one at Lourdes and that maybe made it feel more intimate. I appreciated the call for commitment, to real reparation, and in doing so find peace and love universal. I think our country could use a little of this right now. But we walked together. 

So it felt like, yeah, I got what I wanted. I got Jesus to walk with me.