Celtic Deserts

That was the title of a course which I attended last week at St. Deiniol's Library, Hawarden, North Wales. The course was lead by David Keller, a former Steward of the Episcopal House of Prayer at St. John's Abbey Minnesota and Emily Winter, a Julian Scholar. The course was designed to reflect on the shared wisdom of the Desert Fathers and Mothers and the Celtic Saints, examining the implications for our personal living, for society in general and the Church in the 21st Century. It was, on the surface, a strange mix of academic study, contemplative prayer, and pilgrimage to Celtic sites around North Wales.

St. Deiniol's Library was constructed as a memorial to William Gladstone and is of late Victorian Splendour, far removed from the lives of both the Desert Fathers and the Celtic Saints. It seemed to me that many attending the course were clergy who possessed 'Oxford' English accents. I confess that I soon began to wonder how God could ever work in this environment.

Well, God proved me wrong. I have been on many courses with many groups but I have yet to find one which seemed to gel as this one as we shared together not only the teaching, but the mystical experience we each felt as we visited the 'thin' places on our days out. I rarely cry, but I cried a lot towards the end when I heard others describing the exact same experiences that I had witnessed. Most importantly I began to see Christ in others for whom in the natural way of things I would not have an affinity.

I have deliberately left off writing this blog for a few days because I wanted to make sure that the 'emotion' of the week away had time to subside. However, I am still left with the feeling of a great seed change in my thinking. The people I meet everyday no longer seem to be just another person, but someone in whom God is revealed and is speaking. What I fully feel is hard to put into words at this stage but I am sure God has his plans!

St Seiriol's Well
One of the sites we visited which was of particular blessing

Small Actions Make Big Changes

St Mawgan-in-Pydar

On Saturday, as I sat in the Thirteenth Century Church of St. Mawgan awaiting the start of Sarah and Jon's Wedding I began to think on all the hundreds of other weddings that must have taken place there in the past seven hundred and fifty so years. There would have been many rich patrons and vastly more poor couples who had stood and recited their vows before God. Ceremonies would have changed over time and,as the site is even more ancient that the church, some may not have even been Christian.

However much time and customs may have changed, all those couples, from whatever age, would have held similar hopes for the future. Prosperity, children and a myriad other things would have been on their minds. Some would have married for love, some for local political expediency, others because a child was on the way. Each ceremony would have represented the coming together of two lives that were, without them knowing it, going to change the future.

As today, many of those couples would have no idea that the simple act of their union would bring about change. We may think that real change is made by those in power but the more I study history the more I realize the part we all have to play. John Donne said that 'no man is an island'. Each life and each action of life changes the actions of others, and so the effect of the original action is multiplied.

It is a sobering thought to realise the things I do today may well have repercussions not only today but well into the future

I am sure we have all had the experience of visiting somewhere, only to find that there seems to be something special, something sacred about the place. It has happened to me on a number of occasions. I have visited grand cathedrals which despite their beauty have left me cold. Yet I have also entered small, insignificant, churches where I have felt that I have been standing in the presence of God.

A few years ago, Chris Peck, who was director of Lay Training in the Diocese of Liverpool (UK), set out on a journey around Britain to seek out sacred places. In his mind was a series of questions, for example: did some places have a natural sacredness of their own which was recognised by our forbears, or were places made sacred, by acts of worship over the centuries? Chris came to the conclusion that both seem to be true. Some places, like the island of Iona, seem to have a holiness of their own.

I visited Iona some nine years ago, staying at the Abbey. It was a difficult time for me, made more difficult by the fact that I did not get on at all well with the rest of the guest. The services in Iona Abbey where not to my liking and the whole thing could have been a disaster. However, releasing myself from the guests and the abbey I spent quite some time sitting outside on a rock, said to be the place where St. Columba had his cell. Here I communed with God, and it was as if heaven and earth were the same place. It was a sacred place.

As a family we have just returned from the Isle of Mann. Towards the end of the holiday we visited Peel Castle. One the two occasions I had visited the island before I had wanted to visit the site but had been thwarted; finally I got my wish.

The castle is built on St. Patrick’s Isle, an ancient site that has been used for many things throughout the years. At one time it was a Celtic Monastery and one of the original chapels still stands. Despite there being the ruins of far grander churches on the site, it was in this small space that I felt the veil between heaven and earth lifting. It was if I was at one with all my brothers and sisters who had worshipped there in the past. – Truly, for me it was a sacred space.

Creating our own Sacred Space

Sacred space is good; it is a place where we meet with God. Visiting such places is also good but it is also possible to create our own. We must remember God is omnipresent and can meet us anywhere Why not think about setting aside some place where you can meet with God on a regular basis. It need not be large; it can be the corner of a room. Place in it something like a picture or a candle on which you can focus your attention as a window into heaven. As you use your space so it becomes sanctified. It becomes the place where you and God can meet. A place that draws you into God, a place where your strength is renewed.

Dave

Walsingham

On Saturday, we finally made it to Walsingham after promising ourselves a visit for more years than we care to remember. In many ways it proved interesting but at the same time disappointing. It was interesting because of what we saw and learned, but disappointing because neither of us felt anything particularly special about the place Some would say that such places are not about feeling, but for me it is important. Iona, Lindisfarne and a whole host less well known sites around the UK and abroad have proved to be places where I have felt particularly near to the Divine but I could not say that about Walsingham, even though I know it is special to the thousands of pilgrims that visit each year.

A few years ago, Chris Peck, who was director of Lay Training here in Liverpool, set out on a journey around Britain to seek out sacred places. In his mind was a series of questions, for example: did some places have a natural sacredness of their own, which was recognized by our forbears, or where places made sacred, by acts of worship over the centuries? Chris came to the conclusion that both seem to be true. Some places, like the island of Iona, seem to have a holiness of their own whilst I think places like Walsingham have more to do with the centuries of prayer and devotion by the pilgrims.

At the start I mentioned Iona. Gill and I visited the island some eight years ago, staying at the Abbey. It was a difficult time for us both, made more difficult by the fact that I did not get on at all well with the rest of the guests. The services in Iona Abbey where not to my liking and the whole thing could have been a disaster. However, releasing myself from the guests and the abbey I spent quite some time sitting outside on a rock, said to be the place where St. Columba had his cell. Here I communed with God, and it was as if heaven and earth were the same place. It was a sacred place. I would gladly return to Iona simply for that quality.

Although St. Francis set up many hermitages, he was always drawn to St. Mary of the Angels, down in the valley from Assisi. It was to this place he came when he knew death was near. Again, I have had the privilege of visiting the church and, despite the crowds of pilgrims and tourists, I could sense something of the sacredness of the place.

So what it is about sacred places, do we have to 'feel' something, or do they posses properties that can be sensed by some people and not by others? Would some people who find Walsingham special not find anything for them at Iona?

That's what we like about God - the way he meets different people, with different needs, in different places and in different ways. Humans like to standardize while God likes to diversify. We constantly need to take care that we don't try to force people into seeing God through our eyes and our own experience. Perhaps one of the hardest lessons for Gill and I to learn is that we don't have all the truth and that other people's experiences are just as valid as our own.