Camino de Santiago - Stamped in Faith… (Overi o veri)
CAMINO DE SANTIAGO
Stamped in Faith… (Overi o veri)
(My Camino...)
I am writing this text in Serbian, and later I will probably wrestle with how to translate the title I came up with. It is a play on words—just one small space shifts the meaning completely. And that meaning together forms the theme of today’s blog.
(In Serbian, “OVERI” means to make something official, legitimate, usually by putting a valid stamp on a document. “O VERI” means to speak about faith, to share one’s thoughts or beliefs about it. —Author’s note)
Stamp it ... ( Overi )
On the Camino, there is a beautiful ritual of collecting stamps for the Compostela. Pilgrims carry their passports, and as they pass through the places where they sleep—in albergues—or along the road where they stop, in cafés, cathedrals, or simple rest spots… they receive stamps.
And the stamps… come in different shapes, different meanings… yet each carries the same weight. Some remind you of the significance of Saint James’ path, while others are nothing more than an advertisement for the establishment. One of the most beautiful—a red wax seal inscribed with Buen Camino and adorned with a dangling shell—I received after waiting in line for half an hour and paying one euro. Normally, they are free.
Even more precious, though, were the wax seals I received as a gift from a beautiful Black woman and her little son, who were selling souvenirs near my lodging in Santiago.
Whether something is free or discreetly offered as donativo, leaving you wondering how you could possibly refuse a saint—that, I’ll leave for another story.
On Faith (O veri)
During my time in Portugal and Spain, I read a post on Facebook about the resistance some feel toward the sheer number of pilgrims, dismissing us as turegrimos. The criticism was aimed at those of us who walk “only” the required 100 kilometers, or who send extra belongings ahead by taxi to the next albergue, and so on.
At the same time, in my own country, other critiques followed: why would I go to honor a Catholic saint when I have my own? And these came from people who seek exclusively to benefit themselves, from both our saints and others’.
But my St. Luke, St. Elijah, or St. Petka are certainly not narrow-minded enough to forbid me from honoring another. On the contrary. They are certainly not selfish enough to demand that I withhold love if it is not of the “right” faith. On the contrary. That is why I love them. That is why I missed them when I wandered through the cathedral in Santiago; I missed the voices of my priests and their chanting.
At the same time, moving through different cities, I visited cathedrals. There, I absorbed the breath of peace and calm that I needed at that moment. Saint James did not cast me out because I entered wearing sandals, or because I am of a different faith. On the contrary.
Am I a turegrinos? Can someone who has taken their first step on a spiritual path, walked the minimum 100 kilometers, and honored a saint, call themselves turegrimos? And who is it that measures, counts, and decides in his name? Perhaps the same one who determines where you may or may not go based on church affiliation?
Who stamps the seal?
On Faith, With Faith
All those questions and answers, traveling from Porto to Santiago, circled around us. They marked clearly the difference between essence and form, between commerce and tradition. Sometimes intertwining, sometimes blurring the truth, just as the Cunning one knows how to do. And the real truth was within each of us. Different. Different in the same way we ourselves were different. Acceptable only if we accept diversity without judgment.
By learning about another, we learn about ourselves. By honoring them, we honor ourselves.
This kind of learning requires stopping the wheel of time—a feat inaccessible to modern man within his strict dogma—and remains merely a written word in the farthest corner of some old, dusty library. The one who knows where the book is carries the responsibility to ensure that the word is not lost. It seems the same, like the stamps in the Compostela. But it is not. Like Overi and like O veri. A choice freely made.
For me, wisdom is wisdom. Faith is faith. I do not question whose it is, who preaches, or who modernly records a podcast. I let my heart judge. I let it feel. I let the path guide me. Some may criticize this, seeing me as a lost sheep that might stray. Perhaps. Or perhaps it is simply the path I am meant to walk.
next step link Where Do You Sleep Tonight…?
Buen Camino.
If you feel called to stay a little longer in this quiet space,
you can find my novel Whispers of Veloria here.
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