He's Blind!

He’s Blind!

May 8, 2018

Portomarin to Portos

I left town refreshed and walked like my hair was on fire. It didn’t matter; my left foot was painful, but endurable.  The trail turned out to be a far stronger opponent than my renewed strength and zeal.  For those into fitness challenge you’ll recall hearing the express “hiit.” It stands for “high intensity interval training.  I’ve done (survived) fitness classes in this style.  It involves a crazy strong burst of hard exercise or cardio work out followed by a slower paced and short lived lighter exercise for a short period of time. This is followed by another burst of high intensity workout until the next slower interval. Get it?

Well, today’s trail was made for “hiit.”  The first 10km was one steep roller coaster-like ascent followed by a short level trail only to start the next interval of steep 15 to 20 degree slope inclines for a few kilometers until the next interval of level approach.  By midmorning my clothes were soaked with sweat, I was gasping for my next breath at the top of each rise, and was guzzling water.  I’m not sure what crossfit training is, but this would have been in its league.

The weather was merciful. Unlike yesterday with temperatures in the low 70’s with the sun frying our skin, today was heavily overcast, unusually cool in the upper 40’s, and gratefully chilly for overheated hiking.  Different weather could have made this day gruesome. I was grateful.

Since leaving Sarria, the pilgrim count has more than tripled.  There are scores of young high-schoolers from many different countries walking in groups. Not sure when you’ve traveled with adolescents lately, they’re much like big kindergarteners.  They bring loud conversation and abundant laughter to the trail, so much for solitude. No complaints here, though, the Camino has new vitality.

A joy I received were three new Camino friends, three ladies roughly older than me, and purely delightful. They are strong walkers, crazy strong. One has done the Camino 8 times, others several times as well.  Today’s ‘hiit’ trail was there claim to regular walking trails in Ireland.  They’re walking pace and agility humbled me.

Perhaps for the third time of the day our paths coincidentally met at a roadside café.  I was happy to be here. It had, on the premise, a remnant of the Camino heroes’ accomplishments.  The Knights Templar, ancient knights, men of strength and honor in service of pilgrims from the 13^th to 15^th century, had built a small church here. It is one of MANY churches on the Camino built by the Knights. It served as a a church and hospital for pilgrims. 

The lovely Irish ladies entered before me. Upon exiting they shared in gasp and amazement, “He’s blind!” They were staring at their credentials. Pilgrims take the stamps on their pilgrim’s credentials seriously. They walk in pain and sacrifice for the stamps that archive their journey.  Others were pouring out of the little church at the same time saying the same surprising detail, “He’s blind!”  Not at first noticing this fact, they handed the Templar volunteer their credential. He began stamping, and on any credential space or stamp already on their pilgrim treasure, and multiple times. 

I was given one more reminder before entering, “He’s blind! You should guide his hand to help him.” Surprisingly, I entered the small church in a lull in the pilgrim traffic. It was just the two of us.  I kindly handed him euros for the service and gently grasped his hand to guide the stamp to my credential. I was touched by his acceptance and humility in the offer.  There was just my hand gently holding his hand and guiding its direction.  Dare I say, it was a loving encounter between the stranger of Christ in him with the stranger of Christ in me. 

What was most striking about my Christ stranger’s hands were that they were large, soft, and submissive. He could have let pride refuse my help, yet he welcomed my help.  There was such profound humility in this moment.

In that instance, we were Christ’s hands in service of one another.  I sense that is how Jesus entered in care for those He served;  it was His gentle hand touching, holding, and guiding the way. But what it was with our Knight’s Templar servant was a moment frozen in time with my imagination of my hands in Christ’s hands.

As I departed, I ignored the sign posted above his table and snapped a photo to capture this moment.  I paused before my exit and said, “Dios te bendiga!” This means, “God bless you.” Imagine my surprise when he responded by raising his hand and pronouncing a long Spanish blessing over me.

Yea, “He’s blind!” But he didn’t need sight to be Christ’s hands. He didn’t need sight to display love.  He didn’t need sight to be humble. Yea, “He’s blind!” But he didn’t need sight to be Christ to me. It was in his gentle touch.

There’s a lesson in this for me, perhaps for you as well.  I am sometimes blind to what I see of others on the outside.  though, God creates beauty from the inside. What the eyes cannot see, the heart can. My hands can hold Christ’s hands in another, if I am mindful of it. 

Perhaps this Knight’s Templar volunteer was the one being patient with me? Maybe his submissiveness and humility was for me because in his mind he thought of me, “He’ blind!” Be more gentle with him.

How’s your eyesight?

Fondly, Deacon Willie