The first leg of our journey today was a long stretch. The guide book called it “a slog.” After all the the knock out beauty of the countryside we’ve passed through I guess the word fit. The stone path went almost perfectly straight through seventeen Kilometers of one wheat or barley field after another with no small towns for cafè con leche o zoom de naranja naturale. At the top a small hill Peggi broke out the second little package of chocolate covered espresso beans that she brought all the way from Starbucks on Ridge Road at Goodman.
I fell asleep last night reading the fantastic story of Santiago, James the Greater, and the reason for the 1000 year old pilgrimage. About ten years ago my mother let me borrow an article that was in one of the magazines she subscribed to. It was titled “Jesus Without The Miracles – Thomas Jefferson’s Bible and the Gospel of Thomas.” She thought I would like and I did. It has really stuck with me.
The gist of the article is the similarity between the gospel of Thomas, one of the early gospels that the church hierarchy snuffed out, and Thomas Jefferson’s version of the King James Bible. Thomas story of the life of Christ had no miracles in it, not as sensational a story as the four evangelists. And Thomas Jefferson took a pair of scissors to his New Testament and cut out all the miracles. Both were left with an exceptional but believable Jesus. Of course they took all the fun out.