At our last meeting in Australia we were given a pebble to carry with us on pilgrimage. For me, a stone represents some hardness in my life; a part of myself that I refuse to let God change; a piece of clay that is no longer useful to the Potter. Everyone in our pilgrim group carried a pebble with them on their journey to Spain and today we were letting them go.
After our tour of Astorga we travelled by bus to Foncebadón, a roadside village stop along El Camino de Santiago or 'The Way of St. James'. We were going to make a short 3.5km pilgrimage walk along this track that weaves its ways around Spain for many hundreds of kilometres. Our destination was the 'Cruz de Ferro' (Cross of iron) where we would have the opportunity to cast off our pebbles at the foot of the cross as many thousands of pilgrims had done before us.
We began our journey at the Foncebadón village, heading out along the track. We found our way by following the clamshells and arrows that mark the Camino for pilgrims. The group began together walking through the village, but slowly we spread along the track as each person 'found their own pace' as they walked with their God.It is impossible to express the meaning and significance that each person may have found in this journey, but in order to give you a glimpse of it, I would like to share part of my reflection on the walk.
As I walked along the white gravel track, amongst the native brushes and green, gently sloping hills I noticed church ruins, distant wind power turbines and the gentle breeze. The conditions were excellent for walking: warm with clear skies and a cooling breeze.
By this time, more firmly back on the track, my pace had placed me in step with Tim, who was also enjoying the weather and scenery, as well as collecting photos along the way. I listened as Tim shared some stories about his life and his wonder at the surrounds. As we walked something of my bonds to the pebble I carried began to loosen inside of me. I did not have to speak here, I just had to be present.
We walked on up a hill and were overtaken by a pilgrim from León (as Tim later found out). As he was overtaking us, he held out a rock and spoke some Spanish that I didn't understand. In reply I held out my pebble and an expression of recognition spread across his face. He wished us both "Buen Camino" and continued on his way. Again my internal grip on the pebble relaxed a little more. I was starting to find a peace within myself that had not been there before. This time I had communicated with a simple gesture/symbol.After some more time walking with my companions and the pebble, the Cruz de Ferro came into view: a simple metal cross about 40cm tall, that was mounted on top of long wooden pillar and planted in a mound of rocks and pebbles. Here at the cross I would let my pebble go.
I scaled the mound of loose rocks, dodging around other pilgrims and slipping a few times. At the foot of the cross I touched my pebble to the pillar and gave it one last squeeze. Then I turned and rolled it down the mound of stones between other pilgrims in our group. It was lost amongst all the other stones that lay there. I didn't try to seek it out again. One of my companions left.I had found a peace through my experiences on a walk. A resolution to the problem that first presented itself at the beginning of the trek. Maybe when we feel we need God to 'speak' in answer to our prayers, it is not a voice that we need in those times. Perhaps it is the presence of our God in that moment that is really what our inmost self needs; and God, being the loving Father, the friendly Son and the transforming Spirit gives us exactly what we need. After all, can a child always know what it is they need?
This was my Camino reflection, a short walk with my God amongst other pilgrims and cooled by a gentle breeze.
Matthew Tonini
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