My Proof of God on the Camino

Hubert Rappold, sexton of St. Stephanus in Unterschwillach, walked for about a week every year over a number of years – from his home village all the way to Santiago. When his then seven-year-old daughter doubted God, he found the answer in an experience from the Montes de León.

My then 7-year-old daughter Anastasia informed me with a critical expression and a slightly sceptical look: "Papa, God doesn't even exist."

I was surprised and taken aback at the same time – after all, we're Catholic, and the family have been sextons for several decades:

"Anastasia, what makes you say that?"

"You can't see him, you can't hear him, and some kids at school say so too."

I felt a little helpless and out of my depth, and now seriously asked myself how I could convincingly prove the existence of God to my good little girl, who still believes in St Nicholas – he does come to the house in person every year, after all – in a way that would make sense to a child.

The stories of salvation from the Bible, or the various stories of saints, including those from our own church, which as a sexton's child she naturally knows, as well as the theoretical and lofty theological derivations of Immanuel Kant, Thomas Aquinas or Anselm of Canterbury, seemed far too abstract and theoretical for a child.

A fall in the Montes de León

I thought about it and found help in something that had happened to me on the Camino in Spain, and so I began to tell her:

"Anastasia, you know that Papa always goes on the Camino, don't you?" Once a year, over a number of years, I spent about a week walking from my home village of Unterschwillach all the way to Santiago.

"One day I was walking all morning completely alone through the dusty, lonely Montes de León." The Montes de León are a barren, dry range of uplands beyond the former royal city of León in Castilla y León in Spain, hence the name.

"I was walking along by myself when I suddenly tripped over a tree root, fell flat on my face at full length and landed on my chest, heavy rucksack and all. I was even a bit dazed for a moment, cautiously sat up and had to get my bearings first, I was so shaken."

And then, to explain the danger and the gravity of the incident to my daughter – since I had grazed my knee and it was bleeding – I said: "Anastasia, I was even bleeding."

That didn't fail to have its effect on my tender-hearted daughter. "And then what?"

Suddenly there was a kind voice asking what had happened and whether he could help. All of a sudden, after I had been walking alone for two hours through a dusty range of hills, had fallen and hurt myself, a person had surprisingly appeared out of nowhere and offered me help.

"You see, Anastasia," I said, "at the very moment when I was alone, unsettled, felt abandoned, lonely and hurt, suddenly someone was standing behind me and offering me help.

That is the proof of God for me."

Since I hadn't really hurt myself seriously, I brushed the dust off my clothes and took a sip from my water bottle.

"And when I swung the rucksack back onto my shoulders, the man was already gone again, as if the earth had swallowed him up. You see, Anastasia, that's why I believe that God exists. You can't see him, you can't hear him, you can hardly feel him, but when you need help or are in trouble, God reveals himself. You just have to want to see him and recognise him in what he does."

Traces in the heart

This little anecdote from my pilgrimage has left its mark, on me and on my daughter, and so I hope that it will also leave a mark on your hearts and let us feel the joyful message in our daily lives too.

Even today we sometimes still talk about "my" proof of God – simple, child-friendly, taken from life and not loftily theoretical.

Hubert Rappold
Sexton, St. Stephanus Unterschwillach

The route in Camino Ninja

The Montes de León, where Hubert fell, lie on the Camino Francés – with stages, map and accommodation in Camino Ninja.