Greetings from Hornillos del Camino, a little village in Northern Spain. This column has taken a break this past week while I’ve been walking 100 miles or so on the Camino Frances, part of the ancient Camino de Santiago or Way of St. James pilgrimage route from St. Jean Pied de Port, France, to Santiago de Compostela, Spain.
According to Catholic tradition, the Disciple of Jesus and Apostle St. James— Santiago in Spanish — went to Roman Spain to evangelize before returning to Jerusalem, where he was martyred. His remains were returned to Spain and “rediscovered” in the 800s in the field of “Compostela”, where a shrine over his grave and later a cathedral in his honor were built. Between 1000 and 1400 AD or so, it became popular for Christians to make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela along a number of routes, one of which was the “French Way.”
You can also think of the pilgrimage to Santiago as an early middle ages version of an economic development program. Remember that this was during the time of the Reconquista, when both the Church and local Christian rulers were battling for control of the Iberian peninsula, which been captured by Islamic caliphs beginning in the early 8th century. Both Church and State had a great interest in encouraging Christians to come to the area and support the Christian expansion. They built monasteries, cathedrals, “hospitals” and accommodations for pilgrims along the way.
Of course, times have changed. What were once the castles of kings and rulers such as El Cid have fallen to dust and the major towns along the Way have dwindled to the extent that the Spanish government is concerned about depopulation of the area. The distance I’ve covered in almost a week of hiking along roads built by the Romans I could have driven in 90 minutes on the N-120 expressway, which my trail followed for much of my trip from Logroño to Burgos. The world has moved on.
To some extent, I sort of felt at home. I used to preside over juvenile court in Jefferson County (Louisville), Georgia, a rural county in the east central part of the state with a population of no more than 16,000 souls. But at one time, 200-plus years ago, Louisville was the Capital of Georgia. The judicial circuit I covered was the Middle Circuit, so named because there were only three judicial circuits and it was in the center of it all. The judges who sat where I did included signers of the US Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. But, like these little former “border” towns I’m walking through in Spain, times changed. What was once the center of political intrigue became a backwater.
Thus far, you’re probably wondering: is this just a gloat about my vacation, or does it have anything to do with child welfare, ostensibly the subject of this column. Who knows? I’ll let you decide, but here are a few thoughts.
First, when you are on the Camino, you are walking with people from all stations of life, from all over the world. In 2022, over 400,000 people walked the trail, and others tackled it by bicycle or on horseback. Each of these individuals had a unique reason for walking what some would consider an obsolete path to an unimportant destination. But whatever their reason — religious, spiritual, losing weight, doing something new — each peregrino has a need to fulfill that “itch.” And I think that’s true of all the families we work with. Some folks on the trail hustle along without problems. Others stumble and are injured or end up with swollen feet and blisters. Life’s a hard trail, but we’re all headed to the same place, and we need to support each other as we go.
Second, one of the most fascinating places I stopped was in Atapuerca, where paleontologists have discovered a site in which humans and our hominid ancestors (or cousins) lived almost continually for the past 1.4 million years. The climate changed. Humans evolved, from homo heidelbergensis to Neanderthal. Our species, homo sapiens, took over the site around 200,000 years ago. And what struck me from the guide’s lectures and a subsequent visit to the Museum of Human Evolution in Burgos was this: human nature has not really changed. We care for our weakest. We are capable of committing horrid acts against our enemies, including their children.
Third, we build on what we received. As I noted, many of the roads I walked were built by the Romans. They might be pretty torn up at times, but they are still there. The city of Zaragoza was the Roman colony of CaesarAugusta, and I find it both hilarious and appropriate that the locals got lazy in the pronunciation.
Which leads me to a point. There are those who want to throw out our child welfare system and who use US history from the past 200 years or so to justify their arguments. But history also shows us that whether we’re discussing our hominid cousins from a million years ago, or the practice of early Christians in rescuing children left to die on the dung heap, or the foundling wheels of the Middle Ages, or even the perhaps misguided Orphan Trains, we are a species that tries its best to protect its most vulnerable. Just as no one ripped up the Roman roads or intentionally tore down the ancient castles and monasteries that dot the Camino, neither should we destroy the foundations we’ve built in hopes of protecting children and serving families.
The Camino fell into obscurity for generations and really didn’t become a “thing” again until the late 19th century. Maybe foster care isn’t the right answer for children in danger of abuse. Maybe we should focus more efforts on prevention. A lot of us who have worked in this field for a long time have outdated ideas and may be walking into obsolescence. But let’s not tear up the road as we go.