Yesterday was our last full day in Portugal and did the Portuguese Camino ever provide a gift! After endless days full of intense sunshine, and two very hot walking days, yesterday we were awarded a very thick and persistent marine layer. Loved it!
We stayed in the hills again yesterday and came upon several interesting sites—all again mostly from the 1500’s, tucked in among the rocks and trees.
We came across a totally unexpected, delightful little cafe in the woods, on a little creek, next door to a church that originated in 562. Also unexpected, given our general disillusionment with the lack of the Portuguese use of herbs and spices, we shared a bowl of delicious tabouli, complete with edible flowers from the proprietor’s garden.
Today we had our longest day, so far, and the sun was out the whole time. Thank goodness for a very stiff breeze off the Atlantic! Our first stop was in the town of Caminha, Portugal, where we paid a dude 6 Euros each for a ride across the estuary of the Minho River to Spain. A little steep, we thought, but better than swimming.
We walked 14 miles today, on a mix of rocky beach paths, dirt roads and—UNFORTUNATELY—way too many miles on the asphalt of a bike path along a major highway. That was super hard on the feet, not to mention annoying, and we are pretty much musculoskeletal toast this evening.
We made it, though, after a late lunch on the beach of fried calamari and copious amounts of tonic water and lemon soda and tonight are staying in the little beachside hamlet of Oia. Tomorrow it’s on to Baiona, where we meet our other two peregrina compatriots, Betsy (#2) and her friend Jensen. We are looking forward to traveling with them the rest of the way to Santiago de Compostela!
A couple days ago, my dad sent me a column by New York Times columnist David Brooks that had been written as a sort of memorial to Frederick Beuchner, who recently died at age 96. Beuchner was an American writer that was never quite accepted by either of the camps he worked in—he was too Christian for the literary crowd, and too literary for the theology crowd. David Brooks quoted Beuchner, and I have been carrying these words in my head for two days (there is lots of time to think on the Camino . . . )
“Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward.”
David Brooks gives his own interpretation of this quote: “Faith is sensing a presence, not just buying an argument.”
Over the years, and on many occasions, I have loved what these two men have had to say. These words are particularly suited to my pilgrimage of faith here, and they raise three obvious questions for me. First, as I was reading from James, he views faith as a dynamic journey (“movement toward”) and I would like to explore what that means a whole lot more. Second, “sensing a presence” requires space—headspace, heart space and time, even just a little bit of time out of everything that on any normal day sucks up my attention and energy. The huge benefit of this Camino pilgrimage is the endless time and (sometimes) monotony of walking—and that is by design in order to create that space necessary for searching and reflecting.
And thirdly, the very serious question to myself, that ties all of the above together: am I asking myself the WRONG question? Maybe my question is not, can I re-discover my faith? Maybe instead the question is: is it possible for my perspective on my faith to change?
There is a lot there for me to ponder over the next many miles.
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