Camino Log: May 27, 2019
From Melide to O Arca (O Pedrouzo)
In Exodus, chapter 3, Moses is out in the middle of nowhere tending his father-in-law’s flock — when all of a sudden, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. It’s a bush on fire with the presence of God! But the bush wasn’t on Moses’ path. He had to take a detour. The story records Moses’ conversation with himself, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” Moses’ decision to take a detour changed his life, and quite arguably, changed the world.
I didn’t see any burning bushes along the Camino today. But I did take a bit of an unexpected detour. I was chugging along, singularly focused on keeping a decent pace, when all of a sudden, I heard Mozart! Yes, Mozart! The sound of a piano concerto caused me to look up from the path in front of me, and there, just off the path, was a beer garden.
Now, there is no shortage of cafes, snack shops, and restaurants along the Way, and every one of them sells beer. But this place was different. The music. The shade trees. And the DECOR! The entire garden was decorated with bottles inscribed with messages from pilgrims who had visited the place over the years. They were everywhere! Plus, if pilgrims wished, they could write messages on the furniture as well. The whole place was a monument to the thousands of pilgrims who had stopped in for a beverage break during their journey.
I decided to take a break. I found a table, dropped my pack, and got a beer. I sat down and put my feet up, and then I spent fifteen minutes or so witnessing the joy of community created amongst strangers simply because a beer garden owner had set aside physical space as a place of hospitality and welcome. People were engaged in crafting messages to write on their empty bottle, or they were happily inscribing things on the tables and chairs, or they were taking pictures of each other, or they were laughing, or they were hugging…and all the while Mozart concertos continued to waft about in the background.
After I left the beer garden, I couldn’t help but think of the common spaces most church types like me are familiar with — parish halls, Sunday School Rooms, church “pretty rooms,” and the like. Ostensibly, these spaces are for the benefit of the parish community and for guests who visit those communities. And yet, what often happens in these spaces is we settle for the “everything must always be in order” rule. We adopt customs around all of those spaces which can often give the vibe to visitors, “DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION!” Just like I felt welcome to write a message in white perma-marker on a beer garden table without any explicit instructions, guests in our parishes understand all too well that the “communal property” doesn’t belong to them (and perhaps never will).
Creating an atmosphere of welcome is about more than hanging a sign which says, “All are welcome.” Creating an atmosphere of welcome means opening ourselves to being changed by the people we welcome into our communities and our community spaces. Sometimes things will get scribbled on. Sometimes walls will get scratched. Sometimes furniture will break. Sometimes people will add wear and tear to a place. But after today’s unexpected gift of a Camino beer garden, I’m hoping that we church types would rather have worn out furniture than empty buildings with no people.
After Moses turned aside, he encountered the Holy One who spoke to him out of the burning bush. After I turned aside this afternoon, I encountered the power of welcome to create community amongst strangers. The Lord told Moses to take off his shoes because he was on holy ground. Listening to Mozart in a beer garden in Spain, I was tempted to do the same.
