The historical origin of this “not-to-be-missed” spot on the Camino adds to the fascination of this shrine. The focal point: a wooden pole standing roughly seven meters (twenty plus feet) high, anchored in an impressive mound of small stones of about half its height. Affixed atop is a Christian cross made of iron. It is unique in its raw simplicity, and at the same time its origin is claimed by many faiths.
No matter how this shrine came to be, it is tradition for pilgrims to carry a stone to place at the foot of the cross. Some collect a stone on the trail just before arriving, while many others carry one all the way from home. For some on The Way, their stone represents their gratitude. Others leave a stone in hopes of forgiveness. Still others believe that their stone represents some heavy burden in their life, therefore, the name, “burden stones.” For all, the stone is released at the foot of the Iron Cross in hopes of God’s healing and grace.
Cruz de Ferro holds a spiritual presence. Out of respect for other pilgrims’ display of reverence, most who arrive observe a respectful silence to allow some privacy for the kneeling pilgrim at the foot of the cross, some of whom may be sobbing deeply. Other arrivals stand or sit at a short distance from the mound in stunned silence by the reverence and emotion of fellow pilgrims.
My Camino
Hope is being able to see the light, despite all the darkness. Desmund Tutu
Before leaving for The Camino, I shared the details about the tradition of the burden stone with close friends and family and asked if they would like me to carry a specific one-word burden prayer for them. I prayed for each person and their “prayer word” every day along my Camino. My list of eighty-three, one-word prayers comprised heart-rending needs ranging from infertility, cancer struggles, broken relationships, to life threatening diseases. My burden stone represented all these burdens as well. It was my honor to pray these burdens to Cruz de Ferro and to surrender them at the foot of the Iron Cross.
Fast forward to this morning in the town of Rabanal del Camino. I emerged from my albergue to a gift left by nature during the night–a heavy, two-inch blanket of snow. This is not unusual for an altitude of one thousand one hundred fifty meters (three thousand seven hundred feet). The Camino trail blazed ahead through gorgeous wildflowers, shrubs, scrub pines, and flowering heather shrouded under a brilliant white snow cover. With large, gently falling snowflakes still dancing earthward, it was like walking in a snow globe.
The pretty, snowy trail was a stark contrast to what was pressing overhead. A heavy, low-lying, smoky-grey cloud cover pressed down from overhead. Fear struck as I caught sight of the trail’s horizon. Yikes! Off in the distance was the ridgeline of Cruz de Ferro. How will I manage a three hundred fifty meter (one thousand one hundred fifty feet) climb over seven kilometers (a little over four miles)? Staring at the elevation before me, I swallowed a gulp of chilly air as I shivered a bit, frightened by an even more intimidating challenge. A snow storm was apparent in the dark clouds hanging over the upcoming mountain peaks. I gulped a new prayer, Have faith, Willie. You have eighty-three burden prayers you’re carrying for loved ones back home.
Slippery step after slippery step, I made my way upward. It was not the snowy trail or the temperature that kept my attention. It was the dark, heavy cloud cover that weighed on my spirit. I am not sure which prompted a short depressive episode during the walk. Is it the low hanging dark cloud cover or the weight of the burdens some carry? Oh, Lord, what heavy crosses some carry. And the weight of these crosses. Many have carried them for so, so long!
Biting snow and pelting sleet stung my face. The gloomy cloud cover that hovered a short distance overhead continued to weigh down my spirit. The weather was the perfect backdrop for the burdens I prayed for along the ascent. The context of each burden recycled in my memory. Each loved one’s burden weighed so much, and the wait was so long. Immersed in each story behind their prayers, I felt their hopelessness. I cried for them. I prayed deeply for them, hour after hour.
My reflection came to a dramatic halt with my first sight of the monument. Cruz de Ferro creates an exhilarating first impression. At roughly a hundred meters (three hundred feet) away, I spotted the rusty, iron medieval shape of the cross high in the air. The cross is fixed to a wooden pole standing roughly six meters (twenty feet) high. At its base, the mountain of stones is built up about three meters (ten feet) from the trail’s base. This gave me a chill. Millions of pilgrims over the centuries have placed their burden stones here.
After waiting for my turn at the cross, I trudged up history’s story of pain to the cross’s base. Oh, if these stones could tell their stories! I wriggled my knees into the rubble of snowy stones, all in a myriad of shapes and sizes, and some with messages written on them. When I held up my stone to the cross, the word on it suddenly held an echo of divine irony. I walked this Camino with the burden of desiring more hope to be found at many levels of my life.
The irony struck me.
I was carrying eighty-three names with their burdens, but my single word HOPE was the answer for all of us! We have HOPE in the One who has “plans to prosper and not harm us!” Jeremiah 29.
Just as I stood to leave the cross, the sun burst through the dark clouds. Heaven’s flood lamp of “Son light” illuminated the monument and me.
I stood there, sunbathed in hope.
