The Builder Saints

The past couple of days--from Santo Dominico to San Juan de Ortega--I have been walking on roads and passing over bridges built 900 years ago by two local men who were good friends, Dominic and Juan. According to his hagiography (saint´s story), St. Dominic was born around 1040 in a small town on the way to Santiago. He twice applied to monarseries for study, but they found him to be illiterate (modern scholars believe he may have had a learning disability). Dominic became a hermit, but as years passed, he noticed the trouble pilgrims had with local hills and rivers. This monasterial reject began building a bridge near his cave to help pilgrims on their way. He dedicated a chapel for their use--this grew into a church. With the help of Alphonso VI, he opened a hospital, improved the roads for miles to and from his buildings, and started his own monastery. Juan became a convert to Dominic´s cause, and from a location about 35 miles away, connected roads, built more bridges, and opened his own church and hospital complex. Between them, these two men reached out over more than 50 miles of the Camino.

Today, we still use the bridges. The crypts of these two saints are part of the large churches they helped establish. Of course, modern roads have succeeded the crude ones they helped build. The hospital complex of San Juan is little more than rubble outlined in the arid desert. Dominic´s hospital was nationalized by the Spanish government several years ago and is today a swanky tourist resort. Most of the pilgrims I know couldn´t or wouldn´t afford a night´s stay (170 euros--over 200 bucks!), but they do let us poor pilgrims into the lobby to take pictures.

I don´t know how you assess this information. Percy Shelley´s poem "Ozymandias" uses as its theme that the works of men are short-lived and will be subsumed by nature. I know it´s true. Nevertheless, it seems too abstract to frame our lives in such a historic perspective. Dominic and Juan saw needs and reached out; I´m not sure that they were concerned with longevity or later judgments. As an educator, I know that many of the things I say or teach in class will soon evaporate from the minds of my students--sometimes before lunchtime. But we´re still out there building bridges and roads and even mending ignorance from time to time. Will it last? Most of my colleagues just see the immediate needs of the community and reach out, leaving longevity to take care of itself. I teach with a lot of builder saints.