Buen Camino - The Way of St. James

This summer in our Jubilee Year of Hope, I had the blessing of walking El Camino de Santiago with my oldest son – 124 km over seven days, from Sarria to Santiago, Spain. We began each day stepping into the quiet of an early morning, experiencing breathtaking sunrises and walking alongside horses, cows and sheep on our path. We surrendered ourselves to all the unknowns of the day.

Each morning began with the ache of sore muscles, but a pain that felt extremely rewarding.  Without a map, we relied on stone pillars with scallop shells to point the way, we experienced firsthand the truth in the scripture passage: “In my weakness, God is strong.” Some days were grueling, yet the thought of how far we had come gave us strength. We offered up our physical exhaustion as we prayed for our family and friends’ prayer intentions. It was a blessing to participate in the power of intercessory prayers.

We laughed, shared stories, and lifted each other up in ways we hadn’t expected. My son joked that we were always the last ones on the trail as numerous pilgrim groups, including the much older pilgrims passed us up – but that was okay. The Camino wasn’t a race. It was about the journey, not the pace. We had no agenda other than walking, praying, eating and staying present.

There were long stretches of silence, which became sacred. We noticed and appreciated the simple gifts – God’s creation, the rising sun, the quiet rustle of the forest, the vast open fields. I was often moved to tears by gratitude – walking beside my son, in health and strength, on a journey of a lifetime

We prayed the daily Rosary, and from those prayers emerged conversations we never planned –deep discussions that grew from the mysteries and fruits of the Rosary which led us into a better understanding our faith, and each other. Our conversations lead to deep reflections on courage, patience, hope and perseverance. These moments reminded us how God truly directs our steps. We had plans, but the richest experiences came when we surrendered control and allowed the Holy Spirit to direct our conversations. 

We stopped at family-owned cafes, full of warmth, where we’d reconnect with other pilgrims. Some were walking for a week, others for a month, and a couple on their 17^th El Camino.  Each conversation offered a glimpse into someone else’s story – why they walked, what they’d lost, what they hoped to find.

These moments of connection reminded us that we were part of something far larger than ourselves. There were other special moments too – the excitement of getting our pilgrim passports stamped, spotting the iconic shells on fellow pilgrims as we passed through various towns, savoring a cappuccino in the cool morning air, feeling an unexpected breeze on a hot afternoon, or discovering a pilgrim menu featuring Galician octopus. We quickly replaced our usual 'good mornings' and 'good afternoons' with the traditional salutation of 'Buen Camino' –Spanish for 'have a good walk'—which instantly created a bond with fellow pilgrims.

We ended each day of our journey by attending a Pilgrim Mass in churches that dated back to the 12th century. Each Mass felt like a unique moment of fellowship with our Catholic ancestors, who, as volunteers along the route reminded us of while handing out Mass schedules, 'would never have let a single day go by without celebrating the Eucharist.'

Each evening, we found joy in simple comforts – a hot shower, changing into sandals, clean clothes, a comfortable bed, shared meal with house wine and conversations with the various innkeepers.

The hope now is to bring the El Camino spirit back home: to continue each day in prayer, slow down, and embrace life with awe, not fear. Ultimately, whether your Camino is 100 or 800 kilometers, we are all pilgrims. 

The journey’s length doesn’t matter as much as how we walk it – with grace, joy, and trust in God. Let us not limit what God can do in us. Even when we feel burdened, like on day one, with a heavy backpack, God makes a way. Sometimes that means accepting help, letting go of pride and walking forward in faith.

Jerussa Levy is an associate clinical faculty member in the LSUHSC School of Medicine. She and her husband Les are parishioners of St. Clement of Rome Parish in Metairie.