There Are No Coincidences: Reflections on the Camino de Santiago

by Michelle O’Neal

What if—coincidences are when God works a miracle and chooses to remain anonymous? I invite you to think about this idea and relate it to your own life. I was privileged to experience or learn of several miracles before, during, and after my pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago on northwestern Spain in September 2024.

The word ‘coincidence’ comes from the compound Greek word synkyrian which means “together with supreme authority.” It is a combination of the words syn and kurios. Syn means “together with,” and kurios means “supreme in authority.” So the word, coincidence, itself suggests that what people look upon as random or chance may be evidence of God working behind the scenes.

My dream of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage started in summer of 2023 with curiosity and longing, followed by an opportunity and a call, and I was careful not to brush it away. A journey to the shrine of Saint Anne de Beaupré in Québec had whetted my appetite for Christian pilgrimage—holy sites, mass spoken in foreign languages, relics, incense and candles, art and sculpture, and leaning on the faith of others when one’s own faith is shaky.

Many of us feel unsteady; human systems are in disarray, and we need to lean on something bigger. Atheist or Christian, Muslim or Jew, Democrat or Republican, we are in need of community and belonging and common ground. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of other believers who have made this same trek dating back to the 9th century—feet that have walked the same paths—and fall into the simple routine of: sleep, eat, walk, pray for 115 kilometers, to the cathedral where the remains of the Apostle James are buried. Maybe it is in this repetition that I, and we, can find restoration.

Miracles are not just healing the sick or giving sight to the blind, as Jesus did. It can be seemingly mundane happenings. Like thrifting. I encountered God at the Goodwill store in Woodland Park, Colorado, 20 minutes before the store closed. I walked into the store and went directly to a rack where a new Camino de Santiago T-shirt, in my size—with Spanish tags still on it—was waiting. Ready for me to take on my pilgrimage in six weeks. It cost me $3.49. Goosebumps covered my arms and I made a Facetime call to my family to testify that thin spaces exist in thrift stores.

I watched with gratitude as family and colleagues got creative to support my upcoming pilgrimage. Spanish lessons were offered in my workplace. A friend gifted me a silver cross that belonged to her Croatian grandmother. Another found and gave me Camino socks—complete with maps on the ankles. A journal sent by my Colorado friend arrived the evening before my departure.

Miracles, and compassion, also show up in airports. Through no fault of our own, Pastor Melanie and I nearly missed our connecting flight in Charlotte, but they opened the door and allowed us on the plane at the last moment and somehow, the luggage made it to Madrid, too.

In no particular order here are some other miracles and moments of delight that our group of 10 pilgrims encountered on the Camino:

• well-timed Kleenex
• a swarm of butterflies—a sign of resurrection and a departed sister
• a lost ‘sheep’ found after a few hours of concern
• wild blackberries growing by the side of the trail
• a loving German shepherd who leans against you
• a robin who accompanied someone on a day when she needed it most
• watching leaves float by on a stream, finding space for forgiveness and the peace that follows
• a found and returned iPad thanks to the efforts of many kind helpers
• a really hot shower after a dreary, wet day of walking
• a goat cheese & apple salad that tastes like heaven
• the sun warming your shoulders after days of grey clouds and rain
• a heart-shaped rock found at our feet after a moment of collective grief
• ripe plums and peaches left in baskets for pilgrims on the road
• gracious airline staff who helped us make a connection on the return flight

Pastor Melanie Hardison and I took a detour from the Camino on Sept. 5. We were inspired by stories of a church and former monastery that was off the trail about 5 km (but turned out to be an extra 5 miles). The Iglesia de San Salvador de Vilar de Donas is a Romanesque temple built in the 12th century and legend says that it was the women of the family who built it and are represented in the main nave.

We saw only two people on the path—pilgrims who reported that the church was closed. We chose to continue and at least see its exterior. As we approached, we saw a man standing in the middle of the road. It was unclear if he was beckoning us or telling us to leave. We learned through our broken Spanish that he was offering to unlock the church. Over the next 45 minutes we were treated to a private tour of this stunning structure, which once housed the Order of Santiago, knights who swore to protect the Camino and care for the sick. With warmth and hospitality, he used his cane to point out the art and frescoes on the walls. He also gestured to himself and said, “noventa y seis años.” This man was 96 years old. Then he introduced himself: “Jesus Garcia.” I would not make this up. We prayed in the ancient space, thanked our host—who gave us a recommendation for lunch and vehemently refused our donation for the church—and we left utterly rocked with awe.

As Melanie reflected later: Jesus was made known to the disciples in “the breaking of the bread.” Jesus was made known to us that day by the man’s storytelling and hospitality. It did not feel like it was coincidence that the gentleman we encountered in the road was named Jesus.

What magic or miracle have you witnessed when you’ve slowed down, gotten still, or wandered off the path? We tend to think that our God is concerned with ‘big things’—assuming God would not meddle with the miniscule aspects of our lives. But God’s power is limitless and so is God’s love. If the Lord tracks every sparrow that falls to the ground, as Jesus says in Matthew 10:29, then nothing is too small for God’s attention. And maybe, some of God’s favorite work is done in Goodwill stores and on well-worn Spanish paths.