Near the top of the first mountain range climbing out of the Meseta is Cruz de Ferro. There is a long tradition here, that goes something like this. At the beginning of your pilgrimage, you pick up a rock. Then you make this rock yours.
You then carry this rock with you every step of the way, all the way to Cruz de Ferro, which for us was a good 500km. As you walk the Camino, you feel the weight of your pack and the burden it can be. Add to that your realization... ‘this dang rock is in here.’ It holds you back, it weighs you down, and its uselessness becomes more and more apparent with every kilometer. It can even break your sunglasses, and you only brought one pair, cause you needed to make room for this rock 😑. You walk with your rock in the rain, in the sun, up the mountain, down the mountains, you have to keep track of it. You may have ditched the deodorant and stink to high heaven because it was too heavy... but you still carry this rock. And as you walk you pray about this rock. Days are spent in prayer over this rock, step by step, without media or chores to distract you. Ok, so you don’t really pray for the rock, but for what it represents, those burdens in your life. Leaving the rock and the burdens it represents becomes your pilgrimage.
Then you reach Cruz de Ferro (the iron cross), and you lay down your rock at the cross. Drop your useless burden, leaving it at the foot of the cross as thousands of pilgrims have done before you. You don’t get to keep it, you don’t get to stay, you simply get to approach the cross and leave what you no longer need, what you never really needed, if you would just leave it at the cross. It is a holy tradition.
My rock and burden are kind of personal, and my family’s rocks aren’t my stories to share. But I will say this, my rock changed my relationship with prayer on this journey. Let me try to explain:
We may be on an ancient pilgrimage, but we are still connected to a modern world. We are not oblivious to the hurricanes in Puerto Rico, the earthquakes in Mexico, the violence in Las Vegas, or the protests in St Louis. When word reaches us, I pray.
I read a few commentaries and posts lately that in many ways have placed prayer in contrast with action. All I could think of was the Inigo Montoya quote, “You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.”
I guess if prayer means an empty condolence, then by all means... yes please stop that. If prayer means a passive communication before a meal or passing the buck to an empty space then eww... cut it out.
But prayer isn’t those things, and it never was.
I think prayer might be getting this reputation of “inaction” because it doesn’t have a very good record of changing weather patterns or signing into law new gun regulations. And sure, I’ve been unsuccessfully praying a long time for more money, so on this, I agree. There are a lot of things that seem to not change because of prayer. Although prayer is mysterious, and miracles happen, I’ve never figured out the rhyme or reason for that, and I’m not sure we are meant to.
But one thing that I am 100%, sign on the dotted line, sure is a truth truth... prayer is how I change. I would venture to say that prayer is the only way I change. My conversations with God are convicting, cause both of us are the only two that really know my junk. Prayer might not change the hurricane, but it reminds me that I have more to give to those who are without shelter tonight. Prayer might not change the gunman but helps me care for those around me who may feel powerless and angry. Prayer might not create race reconciliation, but it helps me respect the St. Louis Police officers AND recognize I have privilege that people of color do not. Prayer isn’t neutral, but it is powerful enough to understand nuance. So I don’t get to shout at the world, to make them change. When I pray, it’s just Jesus and me, and in this duo, I’m the jerk.
Because biblical prayer requires me to pray for my enemy, it is my perspective changer. I don’t get to choose a side or a group to pray for I don’t get to only pray for those who agree with me. I just pray. And when I spend all day hiking up a mountain with a stinkin’ rock, I remember that my bias, my unchecked assumptions about my neighbor, are a burden that I don’t need. In fact, they are a burden that hurts my neighbor. If I carry a rock, Claire has to carry more than if I was freed up to help her. Prayer doesn’t make Claire stronger, prayer places my rock at the cross so that I might be able to help her with her burden until she is ready to give it up her burden as well. Prayer helps me understand my neighbor to change myself, not express myself to change my neighbor. No wonder I don’t really like doing it and come up with as many excuses as possible back home to not pray. But imagine for just a moment if I got really good at prayer, imagine if I kept praying and kept laying down my burdens, what I could become, who I could help, and what good I could do. Now tell me, prayer isn’t active.
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