c. 2003 Religion News Service

SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA, Spain _ They come sunburned and sore-kneed from Sweden, San Diego and Sri Lanka. They come with boots spattered with mud of the Pyrenees, with blisters hardened into calluses many miles ago. They come to heal suffering. To find faith. To make the hike of a lifetime.

Since the Middle Ages, pilgrims have come to this saintly, Galician city built, it is said, on the remains of the Apostle James. But they have never been so many, or come from so far.

Over the past two decades, the recorded number of pilgrims trekking to Santiago de Compostela has soared from just 120 in 1982 _ when certification of their journey was reintroduced _ to nearly 69,000 last year. Add religious visitors flocking in by tour bus, airplane and train, and the yearly total may surpass 2 million, experts say.

The figures are deceptive, since no accurate accounting exists of the thousands of pilgrims who arrived before 1982. Nonetheless, pilgrimage researchers say, the recent surge has been astonishing, and attests to a new era of spiritual uncertainty and seeking.

For Europe’s Roman Catholic clergy, the pilgrims fuel their ongoing battle for a religious heritage reference in a draft European Union constitution.

“The idea of pilgrimage, particularly to Santiago, shows how Europeans centuries ago had a sense of common identity, which was strongly influenced by Christianity,” said John Coughlan, spokesman for the Commission of the Bishops’ Conferences of the European Community, in Brussels.

Catholic leaders are organizing an April conference in Santiago, coinciding with Santiago’s holy year, and with the entry of 10 new countries into the European Union.

But for pilgrims like Suzanne Da Rosa, 52, who ended her journey to Santiago on a recent sunny autumn afternoon, the road raises more basic concerns.

“Much of it is just about walking,” said Da Rosa, as she searched for a hotel room with half a dozen fellow travelers. “You’re thinking about which side of the road has fewer rocks. Or whether you can make it to the next bathroom stop. Your feet and legs hurt. You’re tired. You’re hot.”

A poet from Glen Ellen, Calif., Da Rosa vowed she would take the Santiago road after attending an art exhibition on the pilgrimage. After her youngest daughter graduated from high school, Da Rosa packed her bags.

Now, 500 weary miles later, clad in worn boots and hand-washed clothes, she groped to explain the experience.

“It wasn’t a journey in the religious, spiritual sense,” said Da Rosa, a non-practicing Catholic who began her journey from Ronces Valles Pass, in the Spanish Pyrenees, with her oldest daughter, Georgia.

“I grew up in the ’50s and early ’60s, when religion was something you feared. But along the camino, I began looking at Mary, the mother figure, in churches of towns I passed by. I began to identify with her.”

Along Santiago’s narrow, cobblestone streets, pilgrims like Da Rosa are scruffy but tolerated fixtures. They plop heavy backpacks alongside pews during Mass at the city’s soaring, granite cathedral. They salute each other at tapas bars and cafes, renewing alliances sealed by shared dormitories, Band-Aids and chocolate bars during a journey simply called “the camino.”

“These tourists don’t make any trouble for us,” said Alberto Fernandez Garrido, who owns a silver shop in Santiago’s historic district. “They’re quite polite. They’re very cultured tourists.”

According to legend, early Christians placed the body of the martyred St. James in a boat and pushed it out to sea. It came ashore on the rocky beaches of Galicia. In the ninth century, a hermit discovered the apostle’s tomb in a forest. The first pilgrims arrived soon after, and the city of Santiago de Compostela was born.

Over the centuries, the numbers of pilgrims rose and fell, mirroring the social and political times. Spain’s Muslim rulers completely destroyed Santiago in A.D. 997, reportedly sparing only the apostle’s tomb.

But today, a mix of practical and spiritual factors has sparked an unprecedented renaissance in the Santiago pilgrimage _ particularly in Europe, experts say, where, paradoxically, church attendance is plummeting.

“There’s a general recognition that the pilgrimage goes beyond a purely religious phenomenon,” said Olivier Cebe, a French member of the International Committee of Experts on the Road to St. James. “It’s become a social phenomenon, a cultural institution in Europe.”

Efforts to upgrade the main, muddy, medieval-era route to Santiago from France helped fuel the renaissance, Cebe said. Church and lay associations built hostels along the way and installed road signs decorated with the trademark, scalloped shell of St. James. The United Nations proclaimed Santiago a World Heritage Site that now draws Christians, Buddhists, Jews and even atheists.

The improvements coincided with surging European interest in hiking _ and, particularly in France, a renewed appreciation for the country’s heritage. Pilgrimage clubs mushroomed. So did a network of alternate routes to Santiago; not just from France, but from Portugal, Norway, Switzerland and the Netherlands.

The pilgrimage boom is hardly unique to Santiago. Travel agencies crowd the Internet, promoting packages to Jerusalem, Tibet and Lourdes. But much of Santiago’s spiritual significance, experts say, comes from an often-arduous trek that winds past cathedrals, Roman ruins and picturesque villages.

“Many take the road at a moment of change in their lives,” Cebe said. “They’ve just retired or have family difficulties. Or they’ve been diagnosed with an illness. They want the feeling of walking the steps of pilgrims of the Middle Ages. And for some, to be the seekers of God.”

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Over the summer, up to a thousand visitors arrive daily at the city’s pilgrimage office to receive their compostela _ a certificate by the Roman Catholic Church, attesting they have walked at least 60 miles along the camino.

Pamela Mathews and her husband, Gabriel Shcranz, both Catholics, took to the road 150 miles away, in Astorga, Spain.

“We came to find peace, but also because my brother is dying of cancer,” said Mathews, 63, a native of Sri Lanka who now lives in the Canary Islands.

She bowed her head, fighting back tears. “I know he won’t get better,” she said. “But at least I think he’ll die in peace.”

But for Patrick Debois, sitting nearby, the road to St. James offers little spiritual payback. “For me, it’s a way to discover Spain,” said Debois, 46, a hotel owner from Bayonne, France. “I hike all over the Pyrenees. But the camino is different. It’s a cultural voyage. Physical exercise comes second.”

Canon Jaime Garcia Rodriguez, who overseas Santiago’s pilgrimage office, dismisses such easy explanations. “We know the truth because people write what their motives are when they come here,” he said. In September alone, Garcia said, 94 percent of the pilgrims wrote they came for religious reasons.

“Pilgrimage is something that comes from the soul,” he said. “And the soul doesn’t always speak out.”

KRE END BRYANT