Paul Stutzman » The Burn Pile at the Edge of the World: Notes from Camino

Taking the day off in Finisterre. My feet are happy feet today. Walked the three kilometers to the lighthouse where pilgrims used to think the earth ended. The edge of the earth must be at least 20 miles wide since that’s how far I need to hike yet tomorrow. That will be the end of the actual hike. I’ll take a bus from there to Santiago where I have a small room reserved in a monastery.

The lighthouse was quite inspiring for me. It reminded me that there is a lighthouse available to all of us who mess up and reach the end of our own personal worlds.

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The light from that Heavenly lighthouse can guide us to safety.

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When I climbed down over some rocks, the analogy became even clearer.

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There was a cross down a ways from the lighthouse. The light from the lighthouse can lead a person to the cross where burdens can be unloaded. At the base of the cross was a burn pile where hikers had burned old boots and clothes. It reminded me again of what should happen there. Some folks drop their personal burden at the cross and have a hallelujah high for a while only to return to riffle through past baggage. That’s why I liked the burn pile–the garbage is gone for good.

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Up beyond the cross, someone has painted the number 13 on a concrete base. For most, that’s graffiti. Obviously someone finished the hike in 13 and felt a need to leave a mark. Little did he/ she know that it would inspire me. Thirteen is the number God shows me so often. Beds were assigned to me with the number 13 and on and on. Sure, I now look for it since, to me, it’s God’s way of telling me all is well. When I see it, I know I’m right where I need to be. Some of you will understand that, some won’t. God moves in mysterious ways to speak to folks, I believe.

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As I was about to leave, a flock of goats appeared over the cliffs and grazed among he rocks. You can come up with your own meaning about those.

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Jamie Page

Oh how bright and sunny that looks. When Christine and I left our rooftop enclave that morning, you may recall it was raining a bit….actually a lot!! As we climbed the road passed the bus filling with pilgrims heading back to Santiago, I must admit there was a bit of envy watching them slide comfortably into their warm dry seats having completed their journey. Ours was not yet finished. We headed up the road out of town towards the lighthouse and within seconds, the rain was driving at us with a ferocity that reminded me of the story of Noah….. ‘the fountains of the deep were opened’. What was not covered with waterproof raingear was soaked instantly. By the time we came to the lighthouse, the sun was beginning to peak through the clouds. After walking around the grounds of the lighthouse for a bit, I too climbed down to the number of monuments that have been erected on the rocks. I marveled at the collection of items that people had left as a symbol of the end of their journey…old hiking boots, shoes, socks, gloves and even a bra. It was at this point in my journey that I had the most overwhelming feeling of the presence of The Almighty that I have ever had … was it the desolation looking out on the expanse of ocean….was it the small altars that previous travelers had left behind…I don’t know. I just know that Finisterre will remain burned in my conscience as the spot that once again God and I connected. After so many years of walking away from how I was raised, I realized that during that process of alienating myself from my organized religion, I had also alienated myself from God. We found each other again!