Loading...On the first full day of our trip, we went out to Clonard, a tiny farm village that is now within commuting distance of Dublin. Today, there are just a few houses and plenty of cows and sheep. But in the 6th Century, Clonard was the site of a major monastic house and school – a hymn to the founder of the abbey, Saint Finnian,
says (perhaps with poetic license) that 3,000 people studied there at one time.
Among its “alumni” were the group of saints known as the Twelve Apostles of Ireland. These men took Christianity to Scotland and northern England and were prominent in the broader Celtic effort to keep religious and intellectual life going through difficult times.
So it is a bit of surprise to see how little is left where it all started. There is a former church (now a barn), and a holy well (still maintained, but in need of some litter removal), and a few slightly rusty signs.
A little research showed that the abbey was sacked repeatedly by Vikings and greedy local warlords, and finally disappeared some time in the 9th Century. And even if it hadn’t, the depredations of the seizure of religious houses under Henry VIII would have finished it off anyway.
The lesson I take from it is that sometimes it is less the thing that matters than what it produces. We tend to become attached to places and objects and mourn their loss, in the process losing sight of the less tangible legacy they leave behind. This may be worth remembering in an age of shrinking – and disappearing – churches.
II
In Edinburgh, I had a surprise encounter with an old friend. As I walked through the Scottish National Gallery, I found myself in front of a painting by Paul Gauguin (The Vision of the Sermon) that shows some Flemish ladies and their minister as he retells the story of Jacob wrestling with the angel. I had seen it in electronic form and used it for Christian education lessons many times. But here it was, so to speak, in person.
I was struck again by how Gauguin used the modern characters as part of the ancient scene – Jacob’s family and servants watching from across the river. But now I saw also how the viewer is drawn in too. We are not much further away than the painted church-goers.
There is much to be said for virtual experiences. They bring things to us in a quantity and variety that our grandparents could not have imagined. But there is still something about being there, being in the presence of the original. I will look at the picture differently now that I have seen it face to face.
III
For historical and spiritual purposes, the trip ended at Durham Cathedral, the last resting place of Saint Cuthbert and the Venerable Bede, and close to where the Latin South and the Celtic North met uneasily in the early Middle Ages. In later centuries, the fortress-like cathedral was the seat of the prince-bishops of Durham, who defended England’s northern border against Scottish raids while they also worked to save souls.
In these latter days, the cathedral’s mission is less about physical defense than it is about helping a culture that often knows little about religious faith of any kind to hear the message of Christ and its meaning in the lives of ordinary people – a charge ironically similar to that of the first Celtic monks who came to the area 1,500 years earlier.
The cathedral and its surrounding buildings are a UNESCO world heritage site, so there are plenty of people coming through the doors. And unlike any great churches in Europe, Durham charges no admission fee. All around the inside of the church are signs and displays, some describing the history of the building and its construction, but others answering questions like, “How should I pray?” and “What do Christians believe about Jesus?”
Like many English cathedrals, Durham is also a storehouse of examples of ancient skills and arts still being practiced that might be lost today without its support – needlework, stained glass, metalwork, choral music. It is striking to see how much of this looks and feels quite modern. They seem to have taken in the lesson that the church can’t afford to be too stuck in nostalgia. Even the things we have received from our ancestors (like that glorious building) have to belong to us.
And so, once again, I discover that it is in traveling that we learn something about ourselves.
Blessings
Howie+
