Lenten Camino
Walking is good for the body and the soul. Pilgrims for centuries have walked well-trod paths to sacred sites, such as the famous Camino de Santiago to the tomb of the Apostle James on the coast of Spain. I made my own sort of pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in 2001; although I didn’t technically walk the Camino, finding my way there by train after an arduous flight into Madrid provided sufficient challenges that I’m counting it as a bona fide pilgrimage. It was the start of a three-month trip around the world I took after discerning that I would drop out of seminary and follow a different path to God than the one I had trod for the previous three years. An apt point in one’s life to embark on a pilgrimage, and where better to begin than the great Medieval shrine to Saint James? But that’s a whole other story.
The Camino came to mind recently as I was strolling in the woods and considering how I might profitably observe Lent this year. The traditional Lenten practices are prayer, fasting and almsgiving. In previous Lents, I’ve fasted by giving up things like beer, and television, and fast food. And I remember as a kid practicing Lenten almsgiving by collecting money in a little cardboard container for Catholic Relief Service’s Operation Rice Bowl. I’m still mulling over how to be better at giving alms; lately I’ve made it a point to tip servers at restaurants more generously, regardless of the quality of service. (God knows I wouldn’t want to work in a restaurant these days.) Prayer has been a bit of a struggle for me lately… and as I walked quietly through the woods of Fontenelle Forest on Ash Wednesday, a kind of prayer was welling up inside me that prompted me to consider walking as a suitable Lenten practice this year. Not just walking briskly to get from Point A to Point B — but walking for a substantial period of time each day (say, an hour or so) along trails and paths that might or might not take me anyplace in particular. I’d call it recreational walking, but what I have in mind is more than simple recreation. There’s an aspect of physical and spiritual rejuvenation that I want to attach to my Lenten walking.
Walking is good for the body and soul. It’s meditative and relaxing. It clears the mind and affords time for fresh ideas to come and go in that empty, fertile space between the ears. Walking in nature helps puts you in touch with the Creator and all creation. Walking in the city lets you rub elbows with your fellow pilgrims on the Camino of life. Walking in good weather helps you appreciate simple pleasures like sunshine and fresh air. Walking in poor weather toughens you up and helps you appreciate things many people don’t have — like dry clothes, a roof over their head, a place to call home. Walking when you’re not feeling well reminds you of the complexity and fragility of the body that carries you through world — and will one day carry you out of it. Walking at dawn lets you greet the day with fresh enthusiasm, and walking at dusk lets you review your day and examine your conscience and count your blessings.
So, that’s my Lenten discipline for 2024: I’m going to walk intentionally each day for the 40 days of Lent — a sort of Lenten camino that will bring me at length not to the tomb of a moldering Apostle, but to the empty tomb of Christ at Easter. There are a gazillion trails and paths around here to explore, so I expect new adventures each day. Maybe I’ll meet some folks along the way; or maybe I’ll just revel in the gift of solitude. Some days I may be inclined to pray, or sing, or talk to myself and the squirrels; most days I expect to just quietly cogitate… ruminate… contemplate. But I think this is something I can reasonably commit to as a good plan for walking through Lent this year.
Buen camino!
