Walking the Camino in the Shadow of Belief
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The Weekend Read
/ February 14, 2026
Walking the Camino in the Shadow of Belief
I trudged through Spain as a rift grew within American Catholicism. I returned home with a renewed sense and understanding of faith.
Rhian Sasseen
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A pilgrim approaches the church in the village of Hospital on the Camino de Santiago.
(Xurxo Lobato / Getty Images)
It began with the reckless flip of a coin. Heads, tails. Right, left. Forwards, backwards. “Fate,” or something stranger.
Standing on a sidewalk in Brooklyn beside a man who did not love me but who would not let me leave, I liked to play a game, one borrowed from the Situationists in Paris. I liked to take long walks. Upon reaching an intersection, I’d take a quarter from my pocket kept expressly for these purposes and flip it. Heads, we’d take a right. Tails, left.
Sometimes I’d adjust the rules: Tails would embolden me to walk backward a block while heads meant I would move forward. It kept the uneasy air between me and this man calm, lending a sense of purpose to the otherwise aimless hours we spent together, building toward nothing. With these simple goals, we were distracted, and we would not argue. I could convince myself that he was kind.
One afternoon, after I took myself out on one of these walking games, this time alone, I fantasized about what it might feel like to walk endlessly; to walk out of my day-to-day life and into a happier future. To walk for hours, long past the time I usually spent on these meanders. I was in graduate school, with a student’s schedule for the first time in over a decade, and I’d have the summer off.
A few days later, a photo taken by a stranger in Spain came up on my timeline. It depicted a stretch of something I had once heard of, back in my days of Catholic school: the Camino de Santiago. An ancient pilgrimage dating from the ninth century CE, crisscrossing Spain and ending at the cathedral of the northwestern city of Santiago de Compostela, where the remains of the apostle James supposedly lie, in the last 40 years transformed into a popular and somewhat secularized revival following an enterprising Galician priest’s idea to renovate the trails as a tourist draw.
Current Issue
March 2026 Issue
I turned the quarter over in my palm. Heads, tails. Forward, or backward?
Often, when you toss a coin in the air so as to allow Providence to make its decision, you already know which path you’re going to take.
Of all the various forms of long-distance walking that can be found—the hike, the urban ramble of the flaneur—the pilgrimage is perhaps the truest distillation of one of the principal aims of this kind of walking: …
This deserves loud pushback.
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Walking the Camino in the Shadow of Belief
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Current Issue
The Weekend Read
/ February 14, 2026
Walking the Camino in the Shadow of Belief
I trudged through Spain as a rift grew within American Catholicism. I returned home with a renewed sense and understanding of faith.
Rhian Sasseen
Share
Copy Link
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Ad Policy
A pilgrim approaches the church in the village of Hospital on the Camino de Santiago.
(Xurxo Lobato / Getty Images)
It began with the reckless flip of a coin. Heads, tails. Right, left. Forwards, backwards. “Fate,” or something stranger.
Standing on a sidewalk in Brooklyn beside a man who did not love me but who would not let me leave, I liked to play a game, one borrowed from the Situationists in Paris. I liked to take long walks. Upon reaching an intersection, I’d take a quarter from my pocket kept expressly for these purposes and flip it. Heads, we’d take a right. Tails, left.
Sometimes I’d adjust the rules: Tails would embolden me to walk backward a block while heads meant I would move forward. It kept the uneasy air between me and this man calm, lending a sense of purpose to the otherwise aimless hours we spent together, building toward nothing. With these simple goals, we were distracted, and we would not argue. I could convince myself that he was kind.
One afternoon, after I took myself out on one of these walking games, this time alone, I fantasized about what it might feel like to walk endlessly; to walk out of my day-to-day life and into a happier future. To walk for hours, long past the time I usually spent on these meanders. I was in graduate school, with a student’s schedule for the first time in over a decade, and I’d have the summer off.
A few days later, a photo taken by a stranger in Spain came up on my timeline. It depicted a stretch of something I had once heard of, back in my days of Catholic school: the Camino de Santiago. An ancient pilgrimage dating from the ninth century CE, crisscrossing Spain and ending at the cathedral of the northwestern city of Santiago de Compostela, where the remains of the apostle James supposedly lie, in the last 40 years transformed into a popular and somewhat secularized revival following an enterprising Galician priest’s idea to renovate the trails as a tourist draw.
Current Issue
March 2026 Issue
I turned the quarter over in my palm. Heads, tails. Forward, or backward?
Often, when you toss a coin in the air so as to allow Providence to make its decision, you already know which path you’re going to take.
Of all the various forms of long-distance walking that can be found—the hike, the urban ramble of the flaneur—the pilgrimage is perhaps the truest distillation of one of the principal aims of this kind of walking: …
Walking the Camino in the Shadow of Belief
This deserves loud pushback.
Log In
Email *
Password *
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Forgot Your Password?
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Walking the Camino in the Shadow of Belief
Magazine
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Log In
Search
Subscribe
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Magazine
Latest
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Podcasts
Newsletters
Sections
Politics
World
Economy
Culture
Books & the Arts
The Nation
About
Events
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Current Issue
The Weekend Read
/ February 14, 2026
Walking the Camino in the Shadow of Belief
I trudged through Spain as a rift grew within American Catholicism. I returned home with a renewed sense and understanding of faith.
Rhian Sasseen
Share
Copy Link
Facebook
X (Twitter)
Bluesky Pocket
Email
Ad Policy
A pilgrim approaches the church in the village of Hospital on the Camino de Santiago.
(Xurxo Lobato / Getty Images)
It began with the reckless flip of a coin. Heads, tails. Right, left. Forwards, backwards. “Fate,” or something stranger.
Standing on a sidewalk in Brooklyn beside a man who did not love me but who would not let me leave, I liked to play a game, one borrowed from the Situationists in Paris. I liked to take long walks. Upon reaching an intersection, I’d take a quarter from my pocket kept expressly for these purposes and flip it. Heads, we’d take a right. Tails, left.
Sometimes I’d adjust the rules: Tails would embolden me to walk backward a block while heads meant I would move forward. It kept the uneasy air between me and this man calm, lending a sense of purpose to the otherwise aimless hours we spent together, building toward nothing. With these simple goals, we were distracted, and we would not argue. I could convince myself that he was kind.
One afternoon, after I took myself out on one of these walking games, this time alone, I fantasized about what it might feel like to walk endlessly; to walk out of my day-to-day life and into a happier future. To walk for hours, long past the time I usually spent on these meanders. I was in graduate school, with a student’s schedule for the first time in over a decade, and I’d have the summer off.
A few days later, a photo taken by a stranger in Spain came up on my timeline. It depicted a stretch of something I had once heard of, back in my days of Catholic school: the Camino de Santiago. An ancient pilgrimage dating from the ninth century CE, crisscrossing Spain and ending at the cathedral of the northwestern city of Santiago de Compostela, where the remains of the apostle James supposedly lie, in the last 40 years transformed into a popular and somewhat secularized revival following an enterprising Galician priest’s idea to renovate the trails as a tourist draw.
Current Issue
March 2026 Issue
I turned the quarter over in my palm. Heads, tails. Forward, or backward?
Often, when you toss a coin in the air so as to allow Providence to make its decision, you already know which path you’re going to take.
Of all the various forms of long-distance walking that can be found—the hike, the urban ramble of the flaneur—the pilgrimage is perhaps the truest distillation of one of the principal aims of this kind of walking: …
