Leòn has bragging rights to the ancient Roman wall. This city’s name is a derived from a hybrid of Rome’s legions who were encamped here in addition to the Spanish word for lion. The spider web of short, disconnected streets meet at the town’s central, stunning structure, Cathedral of Leòn, also known as “House of Light.” It is a jaw-dropping, stop-you-in-your-tracks, inspiring French-Gothic architectural wonder dating back to the early 1300’s. Situated in the center of a large town square with broad expanses of open sidewalks, its spires and columns stretch thirty meters (one hundred feet) and covers a thousand eight hundred square meters (roughly nineteen thousand three hundred square feet). The sheer size causes one to crane their neck painfully.
The cathedral’s intricate stone carvings are most interesting. However, its notoriety comes from all the stain glass which many claim rivals the world’s most famous Cathedral of Chartres, eighty kilometers (fifty miles) southwest of Paris. The Cathedral of Leòn proudly displays seven hundred seventy stained glass windows straining twelve meters (forty feet) in height, making it an architectural jewel. The glass artistically captures sacred moments in the Christian scriptures and the saints’ lives.
It is no surprise that the cathedral is the town square. Happy, festive pilgrims crowd and stream through narrow side streets to get as near to this riveting, towering gothic structure as they can. Afterall, the Meseta nears its end here and the terrain will now get more challenging. It’s time for robust laughter and wine-induced raucous story-telling to overflow from countless outdoor cafes and bars. It is an experience that buoys the soul. Here, Norma, a Camino pilgrim I met, shared a fascinating post on her Facebook page.
“I don’t get a little bit out of prayer. I don’t get a little bit out of church. AND I don’t get a little bit out of God.” Sounds like a popular complaint amongst our youth and even some of our adult friends. True? I know I’ve heard this all too often from those fallen away from their faith life.
As I reflected upon this statement and the dilemma of listening to those close to me turn from prayer, church, and even God, the comments came roaring back to me as my own past attitude and position on those matters. In my 20’s I was finishing college, starting a career, and blazing a new life direction. Prayer, church, and God were nice things that I put up on a shelf, and they could be called upon when I needed them, like seasoning off the shelf or a tool on a workbench. I knew where they were, but I didn’t really need them to keep all MY plans moving forward. God, I can do it all my self, “thankyouverymuch.”
I reflected upon that episode of my life when I lived the attitudes of not getting a little out of a faith life. Today on the Camino I saw those days in a new light. In order to more clearly relate this new insight, I’ll share a memory from Thanksgivings at my parent’s home.
My precious little Italian momma loved us with food. Thanksgiving holidays were a love feast. She did not cook one meal, she cooked four big entrees: turkey, a ham, spaghetti, and a lasagna. Each were a favorite by a family member. The table cloth was unrecognizable by all the platters covering it. The meal would launch with a confusion of knives and forks hitting plates, multiple platters hovering over other monstrous platters, and the barking out of “pass the sweet potatoes” and the like. Because there were four full different meals, you were expected, dare I say demanded, to try at least a little from each. And this was only the first course.
Ma cooked artichokes like they were made back in Italy. OMG they were an ambrosia. No matter how much you’ve eaten, an artichoke the size of Muhammed Ali’s fist was irresistible. In short order it was time to lounge in armchairs and relaxing was all too soon interrupted by the offer for dessert, “Canolis!” My sweet momma loved us with all the favorites until we were nothing short of . . . STUFFED.
So why do I share this gluttonous story? For this purpose of illustrating an episode in my life when I allowed myself to be STUFFED with myself. I was beginning my career, cutting a path toward my life direction, setting a course of following my plan. The thought of adding any time for prayer, church, and/or God was like considering a double Whopper burger right after Ma’s big meal. I made no room for God because I stuffed myself with, well, myself.
Gratefully I had a moment of decision: More of Me or more of God. It’s amazing what happened when I gave up trying to be God of my life. The less I stuffed that God hole with worldy things, the more starved I became for more of Him.
The message on Facebook rang so true in my life. “I don’t get a little bit out of prayer.” I don’t get a little, I get a lot. Prayer is that intimacy with the God who loves me beyond any measure. “I don’t get a little out of church.” No, I get a fountain of blessings by being in communion with fellow believers. I belong to a body of others who are striving to grow in the knowledge and service of Christ. And, “I don’t get a little out of God.”
As the Facebook message further pointed out, “We have much to lose. “Ego, greed, depression, insecurity, fear of death.” These are ugly qualities we lose, which is ultimately a gain.” The riches we gain in prayer, church, and God are not little, they are huge.
It’s an enigma. Starving ourself of self is the path to stuffing us with more of God’s love and mercy.
Buen Camino!
