2015

 Martin Sheen's film The Way is how many of us imagine the Camino, but much of it is of course fiction. I think I believed in the idea of "the Camino family", that like Martin Sheen's character you'd pick up some friends in the early days and then walk the whole route together and cross into Santiago all holding hands. This doesn't seem to be anybody's experience that I can see. My little group has gone off in many directions. A group of four whom I met on day 2 who seemed so tight that I was sure they'd become an instant Camino family have now scattered (I see a couple of them here and there), and the Scandinavian choir boys also seem to have split. 

But what does happen (at least in my experience) is the same people keep reappearing every few days, often to one another's surprise when you thought that the other was miles away. For me at the moment that is German father and son Torsten and Paul, Italian med student Giuseppe, non-singing Norwegian Anders and young Canberra couple Luke and Olivia who are cooking dinner behind me right now. Every new re-meeting becomes delightful. 

But as we are all learning on the Camino, especially with farewells, never say never. With 14 days to go who knows if a new group will coalesce with these people or someone else who is about to walk into the alberge in the next moment. 

One thing I've noticed is that while I'm meeting lots of older people (usually retired or close to it), the people I'm mainly spending time with are the younger people. And I realised that it's because the older people are usually travelling in pairs, and staying in hotels, and mostly keeping to themselves, while it's the younger, povvo uni students and perpetual world travellers who are staying albergues where the connection really happen, although there are a few brave souls older than me who also prefer the albergue challenge. 

Today I again caught a bus to shave off a few kilometres both to aid my blisters and to avoid what is really just walking along a highway through industrial estates into Leon. 

The highlight of Leon is meant to be the cathedral, which is impressive as an example of high gothic architecture. It is interesting to look up to the 30m high vaulted ceiling and think that, as in Pillars of the Earth, workers poured their entire lives into this building. 

 

 I don't mean to be cynical, but once you've seen Chartres Cathedral (France) nothing else quite compares. 

What actually stood out for me in Leon today was the kindness of strangers. The kind optometrist who repaired my glasses for free (which seems to confirm that you get better service if you ask in Spanish, no matter how bad your Spanish may be). Then the man in the hardware store who found a clever solution for a problem with walking poles and charged me one euro. And the effervescent lady who exchanged my last wad of Australian dollars for euro. 

I'm now in an outer suburb of Leon called La Virgen del Camino at another church-run albergue for the night.

I find that in parish life I spend the first year or so with the Pastoral Council just asking questions and coming to understand the story and culture of the parish. It's only a couple of years in that I find we can do more substantial visioning or planning where strategy won't be eaten for breakfast by culture. I find that detailed pastoral plans are usually obsolete by the time they're published, because parishes are subject to the vaguaries of clergy appointments changing, and volunteers who choose to take up ministries or not. 

But in Kincumber in 2015, after reading "Divine Renovation" and "Rebuilt" together we then worked on articulating a mission statement. And we boiled it down to just two words: Be Disciples. That is the point of church, that we be disciples of Jesus Christ. Having something so pithy made it easy to memorise, communicate, and internalise. I could often ask the congregation "What's our mission?" and get a strong "Be Disciples" in return. 

We then looked at 4 expressions of discipleship, and started to organise parish life around them: evangelisation, prayer, justice and fellowship (community). 

It was in 2015 that one of the best things I have ever experienced in church happened: I was asked if we would like to have a Jesuit tertian come to the parish for 6 weeks and lead the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises. I jumped at the chance, and we had a remarkable Vietnamese priest whose name I am embarrassed to have forgotten come and stay with me for 6 weeks. 

Jesuits are the ninjas of the priesthood. Their initial formation is robust, but ten years or so after their initial vows, and prior to final vows they take a 4-6 month sabbatical which is always overseas, and part of it involves giving the Spiritual Exercises. 

An Australian Jesuit Michael Hansen developed a program called the First Spiritual Exercises in which he distils a theme or section of Ignatius' full 30 day silent retreat and makes it accessible for people with no background in prayer. 

The priest (assisted by some great CLC volunteers) lead 6 weekly groups in which on day 1 they would scaffold a prayer exercise for the group, debrief their experience, then give instructions for how to pray that exercise every day for the coming week, then present a new exercise next week. 

I thought I had done a good job in parishes teaching people about prayer and how to pray, but nothing I have ever done has been as effective as this process of leading people into prayer and helping them through any resistance and discomfort to learn how to truly pray with their lives and with scripture (rather than just saying prayers).  It was marvellous to experience, and I have been using this program ever since. I was blessed to have another Tertian, Fr Titus from Myanmar last year also.