A symbol closely associated with the Camino de Santiago is, without a doubt, the scallop shell. This pilgrimage departs from various places throughout Spain or France and concludes at Compostela, where the relics of the Apostle St James the Greater, kept in this city’s cathedral, are highly venerated. St James was the first Apostle to be martyred by Herod himself, only a few years after the passion of Jesus (see Acts 12:1-2). These scallop shells collected from the Galician Coast, used to be given or sold to pilgrims upon their arrival in the city in recognition and as proof that they had completed the pilgrimage.

There are many legends and local myths that associate the scallop shell with St James. In the third book of the Codex Calixtinus, the oldest manuscript that mentions this pilgrimage, dating back to the first half of the twelfth century, we find that, after St James’ martyrdom, some of his disciples went to Jaffa with St James’ body. Upon their arrival, they found a ship that in seven days took them to Iria Flavia on the coast of Galicia, to bury St James there. In this ancient document we find this written about the scallop shell:

It is said that when people hear the melody of the scallop shell from Santiago, carried by pilgrims, their devotion to the faith increases, the snares of the enemy are banished; icequakes, the awakening of storms, the power of a tempest all subside like a raging fire dwindling to embers; the gusts of wind are subdued and become moderate; the spirits of the air are defeated.

But what binds the scallop shell with St James is one of the 23 miracles that are described in the codex in which he amazingly saves a cavalier from drowning, who comes out of the water covered in scallop shells. This caused the scallop shell to be ascribed with miraculous power.

The scallop shell is also an ancient Christian symbol that was used as an architectural motif. The ridges of the scallop shell grow wider as they progress the rounded edge of the shell, symbolising eternity and therefore reminding us of our pilgrimage towards heaven as “strangers and foreigners on the earth” (Heb 11:13).

Even in our times, the scallop shell is frequently used to administer Baptism, which in the womb of the Baptistry makes us children of God and places us on this road that leads to eternal life. This symbol may tie in with the classic myth that recounts how Venus, the goddess of love and beauty, rises from the sea on a large scallop shell, an image that was immortalised by Sandro Botticelli (1445-1510).

Interestingly, the scallop shell is also found in one of the accounts in the life of St Augustine in the Legenda Aurea. Once, while he was writing his treatise De Trinitate, St Augustine went for a walk along the seashore, hoping to clear his mind to understand the mystery of God as three persons in one Godhead. By the shore he saw a young boy drawing water from the sea using a scallop shell and pouring it into a hole in the sand. When St Augustine asked the boy what he was doing, the boy told him that he was pouring the whole ocean into the hole in the sand. When Saint Augustine told him that it would be impossible, the boy responded by telling him: “That will be easier to do, than for you with all your intelligence to understand the mystery of the Blessed Trinity.”

Along the winding roads of the pilgrimage, we must, like St Augustine, acknowledge that we cannot contain the mystery of God into the narrowness of our perspectives. However, our interior journey allows us to encounter God, face to face, without attempting to explain or comprehend Him completely. It is not surprising that St Augustine declares in his Confessions that God is more inward than our most inward part (3.6.11, PL 32.688), so much so that when he speaks about the moment of his conversion, he frankly declared: “You were within me, but I was outside” (10.27.38, PL 32.795).

St Augustine: Late have I loved You
Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness, I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Those things kept me far from you, even though they were not at all unless they were in you. You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness. You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness. You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and not pant after you. I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours.

The Confessions, 10.27.38