The Hilltop Church

By Sharon Brothers

Is the Camino a physical event?  It is, after all, miles and miles of hiking on a dusty, rocky path for many days in a row.  The physical demands are real, too, causing blisters, sore legs, feet, back and fatigue that seem to overwhelm the will to walk on at times (daily, for many).

Or is the Camino largely spiritual? One is walking in the footsteps of millions of pilgrims who, since the Middle Ages, have trod The Way in search of spiritual enlightenment, cleansing from sin or simply a soul filled with peace.

I found myself viewing the preparation for my Camino as equally physical and spiritual.  I reflected on what this journey could mean to me, and how I could pull themes of my life that I value into the experience.  I thought about a core value of mine of personal growth and fresh starts.  I even pondered bringing seed packets along with me to give to people I met along the way, sharing my vision of the Camino as a place where our lives can reseed and start to bloom in entirely new, beautiful ways.

What I didn’t expect was the experience on the hilltop, in a little church, reputed to be one of the oldest on the Way, where my rag-tag group of fellow hikers stopped one hot spring afternoon. 

We had left the main trail to see this unique church on the advice of a knowledgeable fellow pilgrim who was working in the village where we stopped for coffee and a brief rest.  He said, “it’s off the main path up a hill.  You’ll be tired and you won’t want to walk the extra steps, let alone climb the hill, but it will be worth it.”

Some miles later, I thought, with a small bit of relief, “We must have missed the turnoff.   I’m sorry we missed it, but I’m hot, tired and eager to get to our stopping place for the day.  We’ll simply have to take his word that it was worth the detour.”

And then we saw the path, clearly marked and complete with a church outlined by the cloudless blue sky above us.  It was clear we were meant to take the path, detour to the church and add a few extra steps to our route this day.

When we reached the church, as was my habit, I carefully removed my pack, walked to the front of the church and knelt on a bench in front of the alter.  I prepared to have my personal meditation of gratitudes and requests for light and joy, when I felt the most overwhelming sense of sadness and sorrow begin to course through my body.  In that moment, I felt as if all the emotional hurt of all the people who were with us that day was filling my heart.  Tears streamed down my face as I felt the pain of Sue’s recent loss of her new husband, Tim’s loss of a beloved eldest son, and my own family’s loss of our intact family unit through a difficult divorce.  For a moment, it felt like my heart was breaking from all the sorrow in the world, there on my knees in front of the alter of the little church on the hill.

 I’m not prone to the metaphysical or supernatural.  I’m a touch it, see it, hear it, taste it sort of person.

But that day, the spiritual power of the Camino was real to me.  That day, I knew that something significant was happening in my heart. 

I was no longer tired of the heat and dusty walking paths.  Rather, I was filled with a sense of connectedness, all of us together, in one of the most profound meanings of being human.  I had discovered that while the Camino is a physical hiking challenge and a beautiful cultural immersion into some of the oldest communities in northwestern Spain, it is also a deep and wonder-filled spiritual experience.  Even for the most weary and skeptical of pilgrims.