That Which We Have Heard & Known

Occasional thoughts of an Anglican Episcopal priest

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Reflections on the Tenth Anniversary of “9/11”

The following is a sermon I will preach at St. Paul’s Parish, Church of Ireland, Banagher, County Offaly, Republic of Ireland, on 11 September 2011, the tenth anniversary of the Al Qaeda terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and possibly the White House (the third of three hijacked planes crashed into a field in Pennsylvania when passengers fought the hijackers). The closing prayer is adapted from a litany adapted by the Rev. Paul Gaston from WCC materials.

Good morning! Let me tell you a little bit about who I am and how I happen to be standing in front of you offering a few thoughts about our lessons from Holy Scripture on this tenth anniversary of the Al Qaeda attack on the World Trade Center.

I am a priest of the American Episcopal Church, a part of the Anglican Communion. In our church it is the usual practice for clergy to take sabbaticals after some period of service, usually somewhere between five and seven years in a given parish. I’m the rector of St. Paul’s Parish in Medina, Ohio, and have been since the summer of 2003; was unable to take a sabbatical in the normal course because of a variety of obstacles, but this year it proved possible, so here I am spending time in Britain, Ireland, and Scotland visiting places important in Celtic Christian history, reading and translating old Irish hymns, and arranging some music.

Part of my sabbatical design was to also spend time with my adult children, who with their partners have each spent a week with me based here in County Offaly and visiting different places around the country. This is my fourth trip to Ireland, so I had some ideas of things they might like to do; they had places they wanted to see; and they found more things to do and places to visit once they got here. So I’ve driven all over this island and gone to many places many of you may never have seen. (I have found in my own life that my wife and I only visit attractions near where we live when we have guests and there are many places in the Cleveland area that, after eight years of living there, we’ve still not been. So I suspect the same may be true of you.)

Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin, Ireland

Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin, Ireland

One of the places that I visited for the first time while my son Patrick and his wife Michael were here last week was Kilmainham Gaol. As one interested in Irish history, you would think that I’d have gone there before now, but it just never happened until last Monday. It was a fascinating place to see and our tour guide’s comments about the actions of the British officials at the time of the Easter Rising of April 24, 1916 got me to thinking about the reaction of the American government to the events of 9/11, and both seem to me to highlight something about our lessons from Scripture today.

You know your own history, I’m sure, but let me just remind you that Rising was not popularly supported! It caused a great deal of death and destruction and there was considerable antagonism towards the rebels. After their surrender on April 29, as they were marched away by the British troops, they were hissed at, pelted with refuse, and denounced as “murderers” and “starvers of the people”. The British soldiers had to protect them from the civilians!

The 1916 Corridor - Cells Where the Volunteer Leaders Were Incarcerated

The 1916 Corridor - Cells Where the Volunteer Leaders Were Incarcerated

It was what happened just a few days later that turned the tide of public opinion – the courts martial and subsequent executions of the Volunteer leaders: Patrick Pearse, Thomas MacDonagh and Thomas J. Clarke on 3 May, of Joseph Plunkett, William Pearse, Edward Daly and Micheal O’Hanrahan on 4 May, of John MacBride on 5 May, of Eamonn Ceannt, Micheal Mallin, J.J. Heuston and Cornelius Colbert on 8 May, and James Connolly and Sean MacDiarmada on12 May. As well, the tale of the hastily arranged pre-execution wedding of Joseph Plunkett and Grace Gifford, and the treatment of the couple by the authorities affected public sentiment.

Stone Breakers' Yard at Kilmainham Gaol, Where Executions Were Carried Out

Stone Breakers' Yard at Kilmainham Gaol, Where Executions Were Carried Out

Now, I don’t want to suggest in any way that the Al Qaeda terrorists who flew those planes (and their innocent passengers) into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and that field in Pennsylvania are the moral equivalents of the leaders of the Rebellion; they are not. But I would like to suggest that the subsequent actions of the United States government led at the time by President George Bush bear an uncomfortable resemblance to those of the British authorities in 1916.

On September 12, 2011, the tide of world opinion was essentially the same as that of the Irish people on April 24, 1916 – it ran decidedly against the Muslim extremists just as Irish opinion ran against the leaders of the Rising. But just as the British authorities squandered the goodwill of the Irish people by their vengeful and unnecessarily quick executions of the Volunteers, the American authorities squandered world-wide goodwill toward America by starting not one but two vengeful and unnecessary wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, one of which continues to this day and is likely to continue for the foreseeable future, both of which have proven exceptionally costly to the people of those countries, to America, and to the whole world.

Recently, Robert Hutchings, Dean of the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas in Austin has said, “Sept. 11, 2001 was a watershed event in this country and throughout the world. Now, with the passing of 10 years, it is a unique time for reflection.” Similarly, your president Mary McAleese has referred to the Easter Rising as “that watershed event in Ireland’s narrative.”

Which brings me to today’s Scriptures….

In our reading from the Book of Exodus we are told that “the waters were divided. The Israelites went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left.” The Exodus was a watershed event par excellence, one might say, the major turning point in the history of the Hebrew people, the one to which they look back as the moment which defines who and what they are, the one which they re-enact each year in the Feast of Passover as the defining moment of their community.

The "New" East Wing of Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin, Ireland

The "New" East Wing of Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin, Ireland

We should note that the response of the national authority (Pharaoh and his army) to the departure of the Hebrews was not terribly different from the response of the British authorities to the Easter Rebellion nor of the American administration to the attacks of 9/11 – it was military reaction, a violent reaction, and ultimately a response which has failed. Our world is neither safer nor more peaceful than it was a decade ago; some would argue it is just the opposite.

As history has shown over and over in many countries and many contexts, such responses by those in power are ultimately doomed to failure – the
response of the British Raj to the nonviolent revolt of the Indian people led by Mahatma Gandhi, the response of segregationists to the Freedom Riders in the American South and the Civil Rights movement of Martin Luther King, Jr., the response of the Apartheid regime of Southern Africa to efforts of the non-white population – all echo and repeat the response of Pharaoh and his army to the freedom march of the Hebrews. We and our political leaders again and again, over and over forget the lessons of history.

Again, I do not want to suggest in anyway that the murderers who killed 3,000 or more people on September 11 are equivalent to the Hebrews, the Irish Volunteers, or those who marched for freedom in India, America, or South Africa. But I do want to suggest that the responses of those in power in all those instances were similar and all resulted from our human failure to learn the lessons of history and of Holy Scripture, that ultimately the violent military reaction is doomed to failure.

In contrast, in the Gospel lesson for last Sunday, Jesus laid out a plan of conflict resolution for the community we call the church. You may remember that in last week’s lesson Jesus said: “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” In other words, in a conflict situation, we followers of Jesus are admonished to seek reconciliation, not retaliation; to respond with measured deliberation, not react with hasty violence; to forgive, not to avenge.

Mural of the Virgin Mary Painted on her Cell Wall by Grace Gifford, Kilmainham Gaol

Mural of the Virgin Mary Painted on her Cell Wall by Grace Gifford, Kilmainham Gaol

In today’s Gospel lesson, my favorite apostle Peter (who never quite seems to get things right) questions Jesus about this: “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.” Other translators insist that this text should be rendered “seventy times seven times.” And scholars tell us that this number, whether “seventy-seven times” or “seventy times seven” is an example of Aramaic hyperbole representing limitless, unfathomable infinity. Jesus is telling Peter to always forgive, to constantly seek reconciliation, to never react in retaliation.

And that is what the hasty, violent, military response is … a reaction. Forgiveness, on the other hand, is a decision. Forgiveness does not mean forgetting; it does not mean blotting out painful memories, but it does mean not reacting out of them. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who headed South Africa’s post-Apartheid Truth and Reconciliation Commission, once said:

In forgiving, people are not being asked to forget. On the contrary, it is important to remember, so that we should not let such atrocities happen again. Forgiveness does not mean condoning what has been done. It means taking what happened seriously … drawing out the sting in the memory that threatens our entire existence.

Forgiveness means saying to ourselves and to others, “I will not allow what has happened to control my life. I take control of my life back from the perpetrators. From now on I will control my life.”

Jesus calls us to make the decision to forgive, to take control of our lives and of our world, to foreswear violent reactivity, to be deliberative in reconciliation, to always seek peaceful resolution.

Dean Hutchings, whom I quoted earlier, said that on this tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attack, our task should be to “honor those whose lives were lost on that day, but [also to] continue to try to understand the longer-term meaning and import of those events, even as we tackle a host of new challenges.” It was a watershed event which has changed the very nature of our world.

I suggest to you that the extreme polarization we see in current American politics, the rise of the so-called “Tea Party” on the Right and their counterparts on the Left, is in large part a result of the reactive, violent, military response to the events of 9/11 (though its roots probably go back further than that). I suggest to you that in large measure the shape of the American and world economy is a result of the costs of two wars started in that reactive response, one of which continues at a cost (according to some estimates) of about a third-of-a-billion dollars a day or more.

I challenge you to consider this question – what might our world be like today, ten years on, if the US government had responded differently to 9/11? What might Ireland have been like if the British authorities of 1916 had responded differently in the days following the Easter Rising? We can never know, of course … but we do know this … that in contrast to violence, in contrast to reactive war, in contrast to hasty executions, a different response – the decision to forgive and seek reconciliation – is the Gospel mandate.

Chapel at Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin

Chapel at Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin

Let us pray:

God of peace and justice, we recall today those who lost their lives, those who lost loved ones, and those who gave themselves in service on September 11, 2001, and in the violent decade that has followed. We hold the whole of your world in prayer, praying that violence may be overcome and the path to peace and reconciliation may be found. God of life, God of love, in the face of tragedy we turn to you. Hear our cry, listen to our prayers and to the heavy silence of our hearts, which we offer in the name of your son Jesus Christ who trod the path of peace and forgiveness in the face of violence. Amen.

St. Brendan and the Cathedral at Clonfert

A few days ago I took a short drive and visited an ancient cathedral dedicated to St. Brendan the Navigator. It is currently a Church of Ireland church, part of the multi-point benefice that includes Banagher. It is in Clonfert, Co. Galway, only about 10 kilometers from my cottage outside of Banagher on the other side of the Shannon River.

St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

According to the church tradition, St. Brendan was born in about 484 in Ciarraighe Luachra near the port of Tralee, County Kerry, in the southwest of Ireland. He was taken from his home as a small boy and raised to become a monk. His early education was overseen by St. Ita in whose convent school little boys were taught “faith in God with purity of heart; simplicity of life with religion; generosity with love.” He completed his education with St. Erc (that’s “Erc” not “Eric”) whom St. Patrick is said to have ordained as Bishop of Slane. St. Erc ordained Brendan to the priesthood.

St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

Brendan is the patron saint of travelers and sailors because of the numerous voyages accredited to him. Although most of the legends of St. Brendan agree that he was an adventurous traveler, discrepancies concerning the direction of his travels remain. A few sources talk about his trips to Scotland and Wales, and there are place names in both countries supporting the idea that he journeyed there. Others cite the coast of Brittany and islands surrounding Ireland where he worked tirelessly to establish monasteries and spread the word of God.

Doorway of St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

Doorway of St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

The most famous story of St. Brendan is that of his search for a land of plenty in the far west, which is recounted in Navigatio Sancti Brendani (“The Voyage of St. Brendan”). This story is in the form of an immram, an epic poem style peculiar to Ireland that describes a hero’s series of adventures in a boat. According to this legend, Brendan and his companions had several adventures along the way including an encounter with a talking bird, a visit to Hell complete with demons, and landing on the back of an enormous whale which they mistook for an island.

Interior of St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

Interior of St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

The story is usually assumed to be a religious allegory, but there has been considerable discussion as to whether the legends are based on actual events, including speculation that the “Isle of the Blessed” was actually North America. Whether St. Brendan really took this journey and “discovered” America is question for debate. There are several individuals, scholars, and groups that firmly believe that the voyage took place. In the 1970s, after much preparation and research, documentary maker Tim Severin duplicated the trip in a small vessel modeled after the traditional Irish curragh. It is also said that artifacts have been found in America proving that Brendan and his fellow monks had landed there.

Cathedra at St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

Cathedra at St. Brendan's Cathedral, Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

Whether these voyages are fact or fiction, it is without doubt that Brendan was the founder of the monastery where the cathedral is located in Clonfert.

St. Brendan's Grave at Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

St. Brendan's Grave at Clonfert, Co. Galway, Ireland

St. Brendan died around 580 AD and his body was buried at Clonfert.

Headstone on St. Brendan's Grave

Headstone on St. Brendan's Grave

Illness

To followers of this blog, an apology:

I’d hoped to post several pieces here this week now that my son and daughter-in-law have concluded their visit to Ireland. I’ve been working on some of the music from the Dánta Dé hymnal, mostly just getting it transcribed into the Sibelius software, but had planned to take some time each day to enter some thoughts here.

Unfortunately, as the Scottish poet Robert Burns famously observed, “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley.”

In this case, that scourge of travelers, intestinal distress, struck with a vengeance. I haven’t left the cottage in three days and haven’t felt much like writing (or anything else). Doing the musical transcription, which simply entails copying notes and doesn’t take much effort, is about all I’ve been able to get done.

I still hope to get something posted and will do my best to do so.

Sport

Today my son, daughter-in-law, and I watched the All-Ireland Hurling Championship final match between Kilkenny and Tipperary. It was an exciting game and raised some questions for me:

a. Why don’t we have exciting sports like this in the States? This game is non-stop. Except for a brief moment of about 5 minutes duration when the referee’s nose was injured by a player’s hurley, there was no let up during the first 35 minute half … an only a few brief slow-downs in the second half. We (the US) have sports riddle with timeouts and slow-downs, and our national sport (baseball) is about as slow as one can get with all kinds of dead-time. I much prefer the constant action of GAA football (peile) and hurling.

b. Why do we have to have over-paid, over-privileged professional athletes? The hurling and GAA football players are all amateurs. The only paid “position” on a county team (I was told by someone in the pub where we watched the game) is the bainisteoir (“manager”). Everyone else is a volunteer. And the Kilkenny bainisteoir elects to be unpaid! He does this, I was told, for the love of the game. And for these amateur players, the stadium (Croke Park) was PACKED!

c. Sportsmanship … I suppose there are poor sports in Ireland, but as well-fought as this game was (and it was!) at the end of the game there was much good sportsmanship in evidence – both from the losers (Tipperary) who congratulated their victorious opponents, and from the victors (Kilkenny) whose spokesman congratulated the Tipperary players and led a cheer for them. I seldom see that on American sports fields – what I see is disgruntlement and whining, or excessive jubilation and silly dances (like those end-zone hi-jinks when a touchdown is made).

OK … there I’ve said my piece about sports. As most people who know me know, I don’t follow sports. And as the above question should suggest, the reasons are that I find them boring, I object to the high price of sport in the US, and I find the players less that sportsman. I could follow hurling or GAA football, however.

A Choir Anthem: The Trinity of Friendship

This is a picture of stone found at (and now on exhibit at) the monastic ruins of Clonmacnoise in County Offaly, Éire. In the center of the cross is a design known as a “Celtic triskele.” This symbol appears in many places and periods, it is especially characteristic of the Celtic art of the continental La Tène culture of the European Iron Age (a Celtic society which predates Celtic Ireland).

Inscribed Stone with Center Triskele from Clonmacnoise, Co. Offaly, Éire

Inscribed Stone with Center Triskele from Clonmacnoise, Co. Offaly, Éire

This symbol was often used in the artwork of the early Irish Christians as a symbol of the Holy Trinity. Often seen in Irish art is a triskele of three conjoined spirals. Although it is considered a Celtic symbol, this type of triskele is in fact pre-Celtic; the triple spiral motif is a Neolithic symbol in Western Europe. It is found, for example, carved into the rock of a stone lozenge near the main entrance of the prehistoric Newgrange burial monument in County Meath, Ireland. Newgrange which was built around 3200 BCE, well before the arrival of the Celts in Ireland.

This is another example of an inscribed cross with a triskele in the center, also from Conmacnoise:

Inscribed Stone with Center Triskele from Clonmacnoise, Co. Offaly, Éire

Inscribed Stone with Center Triskele from Clonmacnoise, Co. Offaly, Éire

Another familiar Celtic symbol of the Trinity is the triquetra or “Celtic Trinity knot”. One finds items of jewelry bearing this symbol for sale in all the tourist trinket shops in this country, and variations of both the triskele and the triquetra grace the Book of Kells and other Irish illuminated manuscripts.

A Triquetra Pendant

A Triquetra Pendant

Celtic Christianity is exuberantly Trinitarian, as these designs suggest. However, getting a real “handle” on a settled Celtic theology of the Trinity is quite difficult. One of the earliest Celtic theologians was Pelagius, a 4th Century British contemporary of St. Augustine of Hippo. Unfortunately, we have few, if any, original texts by Pelagius, only Augustine’s assertions about what Pelagius taught and a few quotations from Pelagius in other sources. In any event, the heresy which now bears Pelagius’ name (whether he actually taught it or not) was quite at odds with Augustine’s own teaching of “original sin”. According to Augustine, Pelagius taught that human nature is basically good and refuted the concept of original sin; people, said Pelagius (according to Augustine), have the ability to fulfill the commands of God by exercising the freedom of human will apart from the grace of God. This teaching was condemned by the church and early Celtic theology is remembered today mostly only as the source of this heresy called “Pelagianism”. (Whether Pelagius or the Celtic church were truly Pelagian or not, it has been suggested that Pelagianism is “the besetting sin of British theology.” “British theology,” theologian Karl Barth once remarked, “is incurably Pelagian.”)

In any event, Pelagius did produce a treatise on the Trinity entitled On Faith In The Trinity: Three Books of which one scholar has said:

By the time of Pelagius then, there were two accepted doctrines which had been hammerred out against the heretics and laid down by the Church in black and white, those of the Incarnation and the Trinity. No one could, or did, accuse Pelagius of denying these two fundamental doctrines; on the contrary, his teachings show that he lost no opportunity of attacking any who had done so, and not even Augustine claimed that his christology was other than orthodox. (Pelagius: Life and Letters, B.R. Rees, 1988, pp. 24-25)

A second influential Celtic theologian was Johannes Scotus Eriugena in the 9th Century; his name means “John, the Irishman, born in Ireland.” He has been called the Celtic world’s most significant philosophical thinker; Bertrand Russell called him “the most astonishing figure of the early Medieval period.” Unfortunately, like Pelagius before him, he was condemned as a heretic. Perhaps ahead of this time, he constantly wrote of God as “nothing”; for example, Eriugena called God nihil per excellentiam (“nothing on account of excellence”) and nihil per infinitatem (“nothing on account of infinity”). By using the term “nothing” (more accuretly, “no thing”), Eriugena seems to have meant that God transcends all created being. He also insisted on describing God as “nature which creates”; this eventually got him condemned as a pantheist and a heretic, and his books were burned in the 13th Century.

Nonetheless, we do have quotations from Eriugena which show that like Pelagius, he was thoroughly a Trinitarian:

The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit consume our sins together, and by theosis convert us, as though we were a holocaust, into their unity.

and

From the deformity of our imperfection after the fall of the first human being, the Holy Trinity brings us up to the perfect human being and trains us for the fullness of Christ’s time.

From the known writings of these two important Celtic theologians, then, we know that early Celtic Christians honored the Triune God. There is a pious legend (probably dating from no earlier than the 1700s) that St. Patrick brought the doctrine of the Trinity to Ireland and explained it to his converts using the shamrock as an illustration. When I was hiking with him through the bogs of County Galway a few weeks ago, historian and archeologist Michael Gibbons scoffed at that notion. The shamrock is relatively uncommon, even though in the 19th Century it became a symbol of rebellion against the English. Gibbons suggested that if Patrick used any plant, it was probably the trifoliate bogbean, which grows in profusion.

The Celts were probably predisposed to easily accept the doctrine of the Trinity. Irish (and other Celtic) folk lore is replete with proverbs (seanfhocail) in the form of triadic sayings. Here are a few:

There are three kingdoms of the happy: the world’s good word, a cheerful conscience, and firm hope of the life to come.

Three leaderships of the happy: being good in service, good in disposition, and good in secrecy; and these are found united only in those with a noble heart.

In three things a person may be as the Divine: justice , knowledge , and mercy.

Three things lovable in a person: tranquillity, wisdom, and kindness.

Three things excellent in a person: diligence, sincerity, and humility.

Three things which show a true human: a silent mouth, an incurious eye, and a fearless face.

[There are many websites dedicated to these triads; one of the best is Trecheng Breth Féne – The Triads of Ireland.]

Other evidence of a solid Trinitarian theology in Celtic Christianity includes the hymn bearing Patrick’s name, St. Patrick’s Breastplate. This hymn is a long invocation of the Trinity in the poetic form known as a lorica, a Druidic incantation for protection on a journey. It is best known in the metrical translation by Cecil Frances Alexander found in many hymnals (including The Hymnal 1982 of the Episcopal Church). The first lines in her translation are:

I bind unto myself today
the strong Name of the Trinity,
by invocation of the same,
the Three in One, and One in Three.

This hymn also appears in Dánta Dé, where one finds these lines translated by Douglas Hyde in this way:

I arise to-day
In strong power, strong prayer to the Trinity,
And in powerful faith in the Three,
In humble pure confession of the Unity,
High Creator of all elements.

In Celtic poetry, therefore, is a strong sense of the power of the Triune God, but there is also an amazing sense of the intimacy of the Trinity. Belief in the Trinity in Celtic thought is closely bound with a sense of the closeness, the friendship of God. In Dánta Dé is a hymn described as a “folk song for the morning” in which God is addressed as a Rí na gcarad. I translate this as “the King of friends” and Dr. Hyde has rendered it “the King of friendship.” One finds a similar sense of God as companion in a morning invocation from the Carmina Gadelica, a collection of folk charms, songs, and prayers collected by Alexander Carmichael in Scotland at the end of the 19th Century. In fact, this is the piece with which Carmichael begins his collection:

I am bending my knee
In the eye of the Father who created me,
In the eye of the Son who purchased me,
In the eye of the Spirit who cleansed me,
In friendship and affection.

This sense of intimacy in and with the Holy Trinity is similar to the theology and practices of Eastern Orthodoxy with which the Celtic Christians were very familiar. When St. Augustine of Canterbury arrived in Britain at the end of the 6th Century, his missionaries found that Christianity was already there and had been since probably the late 2nd or early 3rd Century! (The martyrdom of St. Alban, first martyr of Britain, has been dated by some scholars to as early at 209; St. Patrick’s missionary activity in Ireland was accomplished in the middle of the 5th Century.)

The Roman missionaries found that the Celts used a very early system to determine the celebration of Easter, a system they had learned centuries before from Eastern Christians. They also found the Celts using an order of service for baptism similar to the Eastern Orthodox service. Furthermore, although the Celtic Christians had celibate monks and nuns, they had married priests in keeping with ancient tradition which still exists in Orthodoxy and which was reclaimed in the West by the reformed churches.

So it is not surprising that we find in Celtic Christian belief and practice a sense of the Trinity not dissimilar to that of the Eastern church. Ian Bradley in The Celtic Way writes:

The Celts saw the Trinity as a family … For them it showed the love that lay at the very heart of the Godhead and the sanctity of family and community ties. Each social unit, be it family, clan or tribe, was seen as an icon of the Trinity, just as the hearthstone in each home was seen as an altar. The intertwining ribbons of the Celtic knot represented in simple and graphic terms the doctrine of perichoresis – the mutual interpenetration of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. (The Celtic Way, 2007, p. 44)

Perichoresis is term from Eastern Orthodox theology which describes our understanding that in all actions of God each of the Persons of the Holy Trinity takes part. Anglican theologican Alister McGrath writes that it “allows the individuality of the persons to be maintained, while insisting that each person shares in the life of the other two.” (Christian Theology: An Introduction, 3rd ed., 2001, p. 325)

The word itself is a compound word with two Greek roots: peri, which means “around”, and choreia, which means “dance”. Thus, it describes the Holy Trinity as eternally dancing: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit moving and flowing together in creation, in redemption, in sanctification, and drawing life from one another in a dance of perfect love. John of Damascus, who was influential in developing the doctrine of the perichoresis, described it as a “cleaving together”. It is an image of intimate friendship.

In Dánta Dé there are two short morning hymns with which I’ve been particularly taken. The first is the one to which I alluded earlier naming God as the “King of friendship”. Ms. ní Ógáin attributes the English translation in the hymnal’s appendix to Dr. Hyde:

O King of friendship, our Saviour’s Father art Thou;
O keep me erect, until the evening shall cool my brow.
O teach and control, lest I unto any sin should bow,
Save Thou my soul from the foe who follows me now.

O King of the world, Who lightest the sun’s bright ray,
Who movest the rains that ripen the fruit on the spray;
I look unto Thee, my transgressions before Thee I lay,
O keep me from falling deeper and deeper away.

The second is entitled An Réalt (“The Star”) and is described as an “old song of Ireland”. This is my translation of the Irish:

O Jesus, be in my very heart’s memory every hour,
O Jesus, be in my very heart’s quick repentance,
O Jesus, be in my very heart’s unfailing fellowship,
O Jesus, true God, do not cut yourself off from me.

Without Jesus my thoughts are not pleasing to myself,
Without Jesus neither my writing nor the words of my mouth;
Without Jesus my actions in life are not good
O Jesus, true God, be before me and behind me.

Jesus is my very King, my friend, and my love;
Jesus is my refuge from sin and from death;
Jesus is my joy, my constant mirror,
O Jesus, true God, do not part from me forever

Jesus, always be in my heart and on my lips,
Jesus, always be first in my understanding,
Jesus, always be in my memory like readings,
O Jesus, true God, do not leave me by myself.

Inspired by these two hymns and their melodies, I’ve written new lyrics picking up some images from the originals, together with the metaphor of the dance, and set them to a combined arrangement of the music. This is my poetry and below it a link to a five-minute MP3 of the arrangement. The music is synthesized piano and a synthesized SATB choir. I have neither a piano, nor a choir, nor recording facilities in the 300-year-old farm house cottage in which I am on retreat, so a computer synthesis will have to do. Unfortunately, the synthetic sounds are not as good as I would like and the playback is a bit uneven. Still, it gives an idea of the sort of thing I’ve been working on during this sabbatical. I look forward to polishing this up and working with a real choir and accompanist on this piece.

Be in our world, O Father, our refuge and our king.
Be in our world, O Father, forever sheltering.
Before us and behind, from sin and death our souls protecting.
O Father, the source of grace, our refuge and our king.

O author of friendship, the One, Holy Trinity,
In the dance of creation you formed us for community.
With your love lead and guide us, as you invite us to the dance ev’ry day.
We follow your lead for we trust in your saving way.

Be in our hearts, O Jesus, with your unfailing power.
Be in our hearts, O Jesus; be with us ev’ry hour.
Do not leave us alone, our constant friend and our companion,
O Jesus, the Son of love, with your unfailing power.

Be in our minds, O Spirit, and always in our praise.
Be in our minds, O Spirit, our actions and our ways.
Be first upon our lips, first in our thoughts and understanding.
O Spirit, our unity, always be in our praise.

O author of friendship, the One, Holy Trinity,
In the dance of creation you formed us for community.
With your love lead and guide us, as you invite us to the dance ev’ry day.
We follow your lead for we trust in your saving way.

O Trinity of friendship, always be in our lives;
O Trinity of friendship, surrounding us with light.
Community of love forever offering us welcome,
O Trinity, our Lord and God, always be in our lives.

O author of friendship, the One, Holy Trinity,
In the dance of creation you formed us for community.
With your love lead and guide us, as you invite us to the dance ev’ry day.
We follow your lead for we trust in your saving way.

O Father of grace, Son of love, Spirit of unity,
In the dance of salvation you show what you call us to be;
As we join in the fellowship of your dance, loving you as we ought,
O Trinity of friendship always be in our hearts.
O Trinity, our Lord and God, always be in our hearts.

Click on the title, Trinity of Friendship, to listen to the synthesize piano and choir.

Snoring, Gardening, and Prayer

I wear a mask at night when I sleep … it is connected to an air pump called a “CPAP machine”. CPAP stands for “continuous positive air pressure.” The members of my congregation may remember that I used my CPAP machine as a sermon illustration on Christmas Eve. (That sermon may be found online here.)

This machine is supposed to keep me breathing by preventing the collapse of my airway during sleep; it also prevents snoring….

Out of curiosity, I went looking to see if there might be a particular saint one would invoke with regard to snoring. St. Blaise is invoked with regard to illnesses of the throat including coughs, but I’m not sure that would include the airway. Prayers to St. Winnoc supposedly also can cure coughs, and also Sts. Walburga and Quentin. St. Bernardine of Siena has jurisdiction over the lungs and respiratory problems; St. Casimir of Poland, who died of some lung disease, is also invoked for cure of these. But no saint seems to have been given particular responsibility for snoring itself as a separate matter.

You’d think there would be a “patron saint of snoring”! After all, snoring has been around a long-time, probably longer than human beings. (Many animals snore – my dog snores up storm!) Consider the Reeve’s Tale from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in which a husband and wife are described as snoring together:

This meller hath so wysely bybbed ale,
That as an hors he snortith in his sleep,
Ne of his tail behind took he no keep.
His wyf bar him a burdoun a ful strong,
Men might her rowtyng heeren a forlong;
The wenche routeth eek, par companye.
Alleyn the clerk, that herd this melody,
He pokyd John and seyde, ‘Slepistow?
Herdistow ever silk a sang er now?’

[Modern English translation:
This miller had so roundly bibbed his ale
That, like a horse, he snorted in his sleep,
While of his tail behind he kept no keep.
His wife joined in his chorus, and so strong,
Men might have heard her snores a full furlong;
And the girl snored, as well, for company.
Alain the clerk, who heard this melody,
He poked at John and said: “Asleep? But how?
Did you hear ever such a song ere now?”]

Chaucer’s duet notwithstanding, it is a particularly important thing for a married person not to snore! One’s spouse (unless he or she joins in like the miller’s wife) tends to lose sleep because of one’s snoring and this can make him/her cranky. According to Peter Beresford Ellis in A Brief History of the Celts, writing about the Brehon Laws of ancient Ireland: “One reason a woman could divorce in Irish law was if her husband snored.”

Although I doubt it is codified anywhere, snoring still seems to be a cause and grounds for divorce. One writer on sleep disorders asserts that it is a major cause of marital dissolution: “Snoring is the number one medical cause for divorce. Snoring is cited as the third most frequent cause of divorce between couples following only financial problems and infidelity.”

Monks are often depicted in literature as snorers. There is a famous Buddhist story of enlightenment called “the tale of the snoring monk.” It is said that before he was killed (accidentally or purposely is unknown and the subject of historical debate) by being shot with an arrow during a hunt, William II of England received a letter from the Abbot of Gloucester warning him that one of the friars had had a prophetic dream of the king’s demise. The king read the letter just prior to the hunt, but burst out laughing, refusing to believe in what he called “the dreams of snoring monks.”

I wonder if the early eremitic monks of Ireland sought solitude in their beehive cells not so much because of a desire to pray in privacy as to get away from someone else’s snoring? There’s no record of that reason, that I know of, but there were plenty of monks who went away to be alone.

One of them was St. Fiachra, the patron saint of gardeners. (He’s also invoked in prayer for the cure of venereal diseases. Supposedly this is because of his reputed aversion to women, as well as his skills with medicinal herbs, but I’ve found no further justification for his link to venereal disease.)

Lake at St. Fiachra's Garden, Irish National Stud, Kildare

Lake at St. Fiachra's Garden, Irish National Stud, Kildare

Here in Ireland, on the grounds of the Irish National Stud (a thoroughbred horse breeding facility in Kildare owned by the Irish Government) one finds St. Fiachra’s Garden (the saint is also known by the French spelling of his name “Fiacre”). It is a rather wild and unkempt garden which includes a lake, a modern recreation of a beehive cell (in which there is an in-ground crystal sculpture created by Waterford Crystal), and a statue of St. Fiachra contemplating a seed. My daughter Caitlin, her friend Jeff, and I recently visited St. Fiachra’s Garden.

Crystal Sculpture inside Beehive Cell, St. Fiachra's Garden

Crystal Sculpture inside Beehive Cell, St. Fiachra's Garden

St. Fiachra is not mentioned in earlier Irish calendars, but it is said that he was one of the Celtic church saints, born in Ireland early in the 7th Century. Initially, he lived his monk’s life in a hermitage in County Kilkenny, but his fame has an herbalist and healer led to his being sought out be too many people. he went France in quest of greater solitude in which to devote himself to God without the distractions of the world.

Beehive Cell, St. Fiachra's Garden, Irish National Stud, Kildare

Beehive Cell, St. Fiachra's Garden, Irish National Stud, Kildare

In Meaux, Bishop Faro gave him a solitary dwelling in a forest which was his personal property. According to legend the bishop offered him as much land as he could turn up in a day and St. Fiachra, instead of driving his furrow with a plough, turned the top of the soil with the point of his staff. The legend goes on to say that a local woman complained that he was digging too quickly and so, in anger, he decreed that no woman could enter the enclosure of his hermitage, and he extended this prohibition even to his chapel. Apparently this prohibition continued after this death, as there is a story that in 1620 a lady of Paris, who claimed to be above this rule, going into the oratory lost her mind upon the spot and never recovered her senses!

Fiachra cleared the ground of trees and briers, made himself a cell with a garden, built an oratory in honor of the Virgin Mary, and made a hospice for travelers which has developed into the village of Saint-Fiacre in Seine-et-Marne. It is said that any resorted to him for advice and for relief from diseases. His hagiography records that his charity moved him to attend cheerfully those that came to consult him; and in his hospice he entertained all comers, serving them with his own hands, and sometimes miraculously restored to health those that were sick.

St. Fiachra and Caitlin Funston in Contemplation

St. Fiachra and Caitlin Funston in Contemplation

I don’t know if Fiachra snored, nor if any snorer ever consulted him about the problem, but I’m quite sure that his ministrations must have been successful, else his fame would not have continued so long that he is still known to us. I’m also sure that prayer, in addition to application of medicaments (whether herbs or modern medicines), is an effective part of the healing process.

The Dánta Dé hymnal includes many songs and charms in which God’s healing power is invoked, including this short piece, an anonymous Christmas prayer which Ms. ní Ógáin tentatively dates to the 18th Century:

A sholus-Mhic fuair crochadh ar chrois an chrainn-chéasta,
Dár dtabhairt-ne ó dhochar-bhruid na bhfír-phéine,
Ós follas duit sinn-ne i mbochtaine ‘s i ndaor-ghéibhinn,
Ó fortaigh sinn ‘san Nodlaig-se le Do chaoin-daonnacht.

A Dhéig-Mhic na Maighdine beannuighthe breágha,
Léighis-se ár dteinn-luit is cneasuigh ár gcneádha;
Tabhair deimhin-fhios is foighde dhúinn, cneas-dacht is grádha,
Le n-a ragham ar Do thealghach go flaitheas na ngrásta.

This translation is Ms. ní Ógáin’s:

O radiant Son, Who wast crucified on the Cross of the Rood,
To bring us from the hard oppression of true pain,
Since our poverty and bondage are clear of Thee,
Comfort us this Christmas with They gentle humanity.

O Good Son of the Maiden blesséd and beauteous,
Heal our sore hurts and close our wounds;
Give sure knowledge and patience to us, honesty and love,
Whereby to come to Thy home-hearth, to Heaven of the graces.

St. Fiachra, by the way, is also the patron saint of cab-drivers, especially those of Paris. French cabs are called fiacres because the first business set up to let coaches on hire, in the middle of the seventeenth century, was established in Paris on the Rue Saint-Martin near to and possibly in connection with the Hôtel de Saint-Fiacre.

So the next time you have an issue with snoring, or with gardening, or with a taxi-cab (I’m hoping none of my readers will have any problems with venereal diseases!), consider invoking the intercession of St. Fiachra.

Circles of Protection: The Dúns and Cahers of Ireland, and the Christian Community

One of the places I visited with my daughter Caitlin and her friend Jeff was the Caherconnell Ring Fort in the Burren of County Clare. A ring fort is an early medieval farmstead enclosed by one or more roughly circular dry stone walls or earthen banks. Although called “forts”, these dwelling-places are believed to have not been designed for defense. Rather, the role of the walls was to give shelter and security to the family, their livestock, and their possessions. The scale and complexity of the banks or walls may also have served as an indicator of the occupier´s status.

Caherconnell, according to an archeologist quoted on its website, “is a large and perfect fort 140-145 feet in external diameter, nearly circular in plan. It is 12 feet thick and from 6-14 feet high. The masonry consists of large blocks many 3 feet long and 2 ft. 6 in. high. The inner face is almost perfect.” It is a large and impressive place believed to have been originally built circa 400-600 AD and inhabited (and possibly rebuilt) up to the 15th or 16th Century.

Caherconnell Ring Fort

Caherconnell Ring Fort

Gateway of the Caherconnell Ring Fort, from Outside the Fort

Gateway of the Caherconnell Ring Fort, from Outside the Fort

Gateway of the Caherconnell Ring Fort, from Inside the Fort

Gateway of the Caherconnell Ring Fort, from Inside the Fort

The interior of the fort was divided by a stone wall and there are foundations of buildings which may have been dwellings, workshops, livestock enclosures, or for other purposes.

Interior of the Caherconnell Ring Fort with Remains of Dividing Wall

Interior of the Caherconnell Ring Fort with Remains of Dividing Wall

Caitlin and Jeff Studying the Caherconnell Ring Fort Interior

Caitlin and Jeff Studying the Caherconnell Ring Fort Interior

Archeological Dig Currently Underway inside Caherconnell Ring Fort

Archeological Dig Currently Underway inside Caherconnell Ring Fort

Although Caherconnell and the other ring forts of the Burren (it is estimated there may be as many as 450 in that area) date from the middle of the first millennium AD, this style of stone enclosure is quite ancient in Ireland. A few years ago, my wife Evelyn and I visited Dún Aonghasa on Inis Mór (the largest of the Aran Islands), and a couple of years after that, with a class from Acadamh na hOllscolaíochta Gaeilge, I visited Inis Meán (the middle island) where one finds Dún Chonchúir. These forts are believed to date from pre-Christian times, perhaps the 2nd Century BC.

Dún Chonchúir, Inis Meáin, Exterior

Dún Chonchúir, Inis Meáin, Exterior

Dún Chonchúir, Inis Meáin, Interior

Dún Chonchúir, Inis Meáin, Interior

Notice that the names of these earlier structures include the term dún which means “fort” and was sometimes used to describe a castle. The later structures, the ring forts of the Burren, are named with the term “caher”, an Anglicized form of the Irish word cathair, which seems to have originally meant “a dwelling place” and in modern Irish means “city”. Both are terms for shelter and protection. St. Augustine used the image of a city as a metaphor for heaven in his treatise The City of God. In an earlier post, Translating Hymns (Part 3) (22 June 2011), I posted a hymn from Dánta Dé entitled An Dún Áluinn (“The Beauteous Fort”) in which the 13th Century Irish bard Donnchadh Mór O Dálaigh (who may also have been Abbot of Boyle Abbey) used the image of a dún as a metaphor for heaven. Both, of course, are drawing on the imagery of the Book of Revelation in which John of Patmos received a vision of heaven as a walled city: “And I John saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” (Revelation 21:2)

John continues:

I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:3-4)

Again, shelter and protection are the dominant themes, just as they were the purpose of the circular dúns and cathairs of Ireland.

Earlier this year Christian leaders in the United States, including the Presiding Bishop of my own tradition, the Episcopal Church, issued a statement entitled A Circle of Protection. In it, they remind our political leaders that “budgets are moral documents, and how we reduce future deficits are historic and defining moral choices.” As leaders of and spokespersons for the larger Christian community, they “urge Congress and the administration to give moral priority to programs that protect the life and dignity of poor and vulnerable people in these difficult times, our broken economy, and our wounded world.” The statement includes these key principles:

  1. The nation needs to substantially reduce future deficits, but not at the expense of hungry and poor people.
  2. Funding focused on reducing poverty should not be cut. It should be made as effective as possible, but not cut.
  3. We urge our leaders to protect and improve poverty-focused development and humanitarian assistance to promote a better, safer world.
  4. National leaders must review and consider tax revenues, military spending, and entitlements in the search for ways to share sacrifice and cut deficits.
  5. A fundamental task is to create jobs and spur economic growth. Decent jobs at decent wages are the best path out of poverty, and restoring growth is a powerful way to reduce deficits.
  6. The budget debate has a central moral dimension. Christians are asking how we protect “the least of these.” “What would Jesus cut?” “How do we share sacrifice?”
  7. As believers, we turn to God with prayer and fasting, to ask for guidance as our nation makes decisions about our priorities as a people.
  8. God continues to shower our nation and the world with blessings. As Christians, we are rooted in the love of God in Jesus Christ. Our task is to share these blessings with love and justice and with a special priority for those who are poor.

Among the morning hymns of Dánta Dé is a short prayer for shelter and protection. In the spirit of the Circle of Protection statement, I offer it here on behalf of the poor and hungry. It is set out below in the original Irish, in the translation by Úna ní Ógáin, and in my own translation:

Rí na naomh dár ndíon gach lae
Ar shaoigheadaibh daora an dhiabhail
Noch bhís go gear ar tí gach naoimh
De chlainn bhoicht Éabha riamh
Mo mhile lean-sa claoidhte faon
Faoi gach éiliomh dian,
Acht tríot-sa, a aon-mhic dhilis dé,
Go dtigeam-na saor ó phian

Ms. ní Ógáin’s translation:

The King of the saints be our shelter each day,
Against the dangerous darts of the devil,
Who is ever keenly pursuing each saint
Of the poor children of Eve
My thousand sorrows, worn, exhausted,
Because of each hard temptation;
But through Thee, o dear Only Son of God,
May we come safe from pain.

My own translation:

King of the saints, our shelter every day
Against the furious arrows of the devil
Who is [constantly] sharply pursuing each saint
Of the poor children of Eve
Our thousand sorrows, worn down, helpless
Because of each severe corruption
But through you, God’s only true Son,
May we come free of pain.

Just as the dúns and cathairs of ancient Ireland provided circles of protection for those who lived within them, the Christian community is to be a circle of protection. The difference between the church and the dúns and cathairs is that the circle of protection drawn by the Christian is to be inclusive of all, those without as well as those within. Archbishop William Temple, who was Archbishop of Canterbury during the Second World War, once wrote these words: “The Church is the only society that exists for the benefit of those who are not its members.” And I am reminded of the poem Outwitted by American poet Edwin Markham:

He drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.

Experiment with Facebook Photos

Just as an experiment…

Facebook’s photo album application says that one can share photos “with anyone” by sending them a link by email….

So I thought maybe I could include that same link would work on the blog.

On the first day my daughter Caitlin and her friend Jeff were here, we had breakfast at Bewley’s Tea Room in Dublin. On leaving, we found a hammered dulcimer player just outside on Grafton Street. Then we went to the Guinness Storehouse for the “Guinness Experience” and finally we went to Black Church Print Makers, a cooperative of artists who work in the same media that Caitlin prefers.

Here are photos from that first day: Dublin with Caitlin and Jeff.

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part Two

While I was in County Wicklow (Contae Chill Mhantáin), as I have earlier reported, I visited two very different monastic ruin sites: Glendalough, where Naomh Caoimhín (St. Kevin) established a “monastic city” in the 6th Century, and Baltinglass Abbey, a Cistercian foundation established in 1148 by Dermot McMurrough, king of Leinster. The former is now a very large national park with an impressive visitors center and a four-star hotel; the latter is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the town of Batlinglass in the churchyard of a minor Church of Ireland parish behind a national school, with no accommodation for visitors as all.

St. Mary's - Baltinglass, Church of Ireland, on Whose Grounds the Abbey Is Located

St. Mary's - Baltinglass, Church of Ireland, on Whose Grounds the Abbey Is Located

This is the second part of a two-part entry; the first part was a description of my visit to Glendalough. This is a description of Baltinglass Abbey.

Baltinglass Abbey

Baltinglass Abbey

Baltinglass was the second house to be colonized from the Cistercian (also known as “Trappist”) stronghold at Mellifont Abbey. The first was Bective Abbey in Co. Meath founded in 1147.

Mellifont itself was founded in 1142. Known in Irish as An Mhainistir Mhór, literally “the big abbey”, it thrived for 400 years until it was disestablished in 1556. Thereafter, it was used as a Tudor manor house until it was finally abandoned in 1727. New Mellifont Abbey was founded in 1938 and is now an active Trappist monastery. It is located in County Louth, north of Dublin.

Baltinglass was a successful abbey and, in its turn, colonized other foundations, including the more famous Jerpoint Abbey in County Kilkenny in 1180.

Baltinglass Abbey

Baltinglass Abbey

The construction of the permanent buildings at Baltinglass began only a few years after the initial foundation and the church was raised relatively quickly. The buildings are typical of the Irish versions of the Cistercian Romanesque style.

One of the abbots built himself a “tower house” or castle in the late middle ages, and in 1541 it was reported that Baltinglass owned castles at Graungeforth, Knocwyre, Mochegraunge, Graungerosnalvan, Grangecon, and Littlegraunge among others.

Tower House within Baltinglass Abbey

Tower House within Baltinglass Abbey

In the early 16th Century the annual income of the abbey was estimated at £76 in time of war and £126 in peace time. These may not seem like large figures until one considers the comparative value of the pound in the early 16th Century. That pound (actually a monetary unit known as the Angel at the time) would have a current value of £4,910 (or $8,105). Thus, annually the war time income of Baltinglass Abbey would have been £373,000 (about $616,000); peace time income, £620,000 (about $1,023,000). This made Baltinglass one of the richest Cistercian abbeys in Ireland at the time.

Perhaps its financial success is the reason Baltinglass was one of the first five Irish Trappist monasteries suppressed in the first round of closures during Henry VIII’s Dissolution in 1536-37.

Although none of the conventual buildings survive, the abbey church remains relatively unscathed. The church is considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland. The church contains a rich array of carvings, including some with animals and human figures. The northeast crossing pier is decorated with a lion and foliage ornaments. The nave of the church is aisled with alternating cylindrical and square piers, which are of English origin, the bases of which are decorated with a range of unusual designs.

Romanesque Arches at Baltinglass Displaying Decorative Carving

Romanesque Arches at Baltinglass Displaying Decorative Carving

Nave Arches at Baltinglass, Note the Alternating Cylindrical & Square Piers

Nave Arches at Baltinglass, Note the Alternating Cylindrical & Square Piers

These were crafted by the so-called “Baltinglass Master” who subsequently worked on the abbey at Jerpoint. A series of tiles have also been discovered at the site; one design depicts a warrior thrusting forward with a circular shield.

Baltinglass Tile showing Ornate Celtic Knotwork

Baltinglass Tile showing Ornate Celtic Knotwork

Other features of interest are the bases of two Romanesque doorways in the nave aisle and the well-preserved sedilia in the presbytery.

The Sedilia (Inset Clergy Seating) at Baltinglass Abbey

The Sedilia (Inset Clergy Seating) at Baltinglass Abbey

An odd and very out-of-place addition to the site is a great pyramid style granite mausoleum, built in 1832 as a tomb for the Stratford family who were powerful estate owners in the area.

The Stratford Family Mausoleum

The Stratford Family Mausoleum

One wonders why, if a leading Irish architecture magazine (Archiseek) has declared that Baltinglass Abbey is “considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland,” this site is not better preserved and presented. I have some thoughts, not all of them complimentary to the Irish people or the Irish church….

First, I would note that Baltinglass Abbey was not an indigenous Irish foundation – it was Cistercian, an order from France. Glendalough, on the other hand, was founded by a beloved indigenous, early Celtic saint. Now this alone is not a reason for it to be so ignored in its little corner of Co. Wicklow. There are plenty of well-preserved and better presented Trappist foundations; Baltinglass’s daughter house, Jerpoint Abbey, is one example.

Second, I think it more important in this regard to not that Baltinglass is not held and administered by the Office of Public Works, Heritage Ireland, or another state agency as the better presented sites are. Rather, it is (as noted) on the grounds of a parish of the Church of Ireland. All of the historic church properties of Ireland after the reformation (especially after the dissolution of the monasteries) became the property of the established church – although this country was a part of the English Crown’s domain at the time, this was not the Church of England. Rather the Church of Ireland came into existence as a reformed church independent of the Roman Catholic Church in 1536 when the Irish Parliament declared Henry VIII to be the Supreme Head of the Church on earth (i.e. Head of the Church of Ireland); Henry actually became head of the Irish church before becoming king of the Irish nation! He was not declared King of Ireland until 1541. (Previously, his title, one granted English kings by the Pope, was Lord of Ireland. The declaration that he was King of Ireland was, therefore, part of the Anglo-Irish ecclesio-political reform.)

The Church of Ireland was disestablished by The Irish Church Act of 1896, which empowered the commissioners of the Church of Ireland to transfer all important churches and ecclesiastical buildings into the care of the Irish State, to be preserved as national monuments and not to be used as places of public worship. One hundred thirty-seven ancient buildings, apparently not including Baltinglass Abbey, were listed for transfer to the Commissioners of Public Works. The paramount consideration was the saving of the nation’s architectural heritage. Had Baltinglass Abbey been transferred to the Public Works department, there would be a better chance of it having a better presentation.

Why do I think this would be the case? Two reasons. First, the Church of Ireland is not a wealthy church by any stretch of the imagination. I believe it is incapable of properly funding the support of its aging buildings, especially those which are not in regular use. In my travels around this country, I have been distressed to see the poor state of repair of many Anglican churches. If I were asked (and I haven’t been, admittedly) I would recommend to the Church of Ireland that it undertake a program of building renewal and refurbishment, and in some cases of building divestment – including divesting itself of antiquities it cannot properly maintain.

Second, the Church of Ireland is a minority church; in 2006 (latest year for which I can find statistics) less than 3% of the people of the Irish Republic declared themselves members of the Anglican church here. Nearly 87% declared themselves Roman Catholic. The other ten percent are shared among other Christian traditions and other religious faiths, as well as a large group (more than half the size of the Church of Ireland) who state they are non-religious. Despite being a modern, secular state (although one with heavy involvement from the majority religious body, especially in the area of education), Ireland is a very divided culture.

I remember being in Donegal and asking about the whereabouts of members of the Funston family there or in neighboring counties. The very lovely and gracious lady with whom we were talking was from the village of Pettigo and recalled that there were Funstons living there, “but they weren’t our people,” by which she clearly meant they weren’t Roman Catholic. (As it turned out, the Funstons we did eventually meet were Anglicans.)

I believe this divide deprives Church of Ireland antiquity sites like Baltinglass Abbey of the broader publicity and support they might otherwise get. I was surprised to find that, although there is public signage to other places in the village of Blatinglass (including Roman Catholic churches), there is none indicating where one can find the Abbey! (Remember, this is a place “considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland”!) I had to stop at a petrol station to ask how to find it….

I may be wrong … but the difference in the treatment of these two monastic sites in the same county suggests to me that the Republic of Ireland still has a long way to come in the dealing with the divide between “Catholic” and “Protestant” (which Anglicans are here considered to be … and for now I won’t get into that debate).

Nonetheless, having visited both Glendalough and Baltinglass Abbey during my stay in County Wicklow, I give thanks to God for the witness of the men and women who lived and worked in such foundations. I offer in celebration of their faith the closing doxology of the Dánta Dé hymnal, first in Irish and then in translation:

Dennacht ocus étrochta,
Ecna, altugud buide,
A mórnert is comachta
‘Con Ríg comic na huile.

Glóir is cáta is caendúthracht,
Molad, airfitiud adbal,
Rográth ón uile chride
Do Ríg nime ocus talman.

Forsin Trínóid togaide
Ré cách, iar cách, do ellacht
Bennacht ocus bithbennacht,
Bithbennacht ocus bennacht.

And the English translation:

Blessing and radiance,
Wisdom and thanksgiving,
Great power and might,
Be to the King who rules over all.

Glory and honor and sweet-devotion,
Praise and wondrous music
Ardent love from every heart
To the King of heaven and earth.

To the exalted Trinity
Before all, after all, hath pertained
Blessing and eternal blessing,
Blessing-eternal and blessing.

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part One

While I was in County Wicklow (Contae Chill Mhantáin), as I have earlier reported, I visited two very different monastic ruin sites: Glendalough, where Naomh Caoimhín (St. Kevin) established a “monastic city” in the 6th Century, and Baltinglass Abbey, a Cistercian foundation established in 1148 by Dermot McMurrough, king of Leinster. The former is now a very large national park with an impressive visitors center and a four-star hotel; the latter is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the town of Batlinglass in the churchyard of a minor Church of Ireland parish behind a national school, with no accommodation for visitors as all.

This will be a two-part entry consisting first of a description of my visit to Glendalough.

The name Glendalough comes from the Irish Gleann Dá Locha, meaning “Glen of Two Lakes”, so as you might guess, the site is quite large. It is encompasses the two lakes, several ruined buildings, and a round tower. I spent nearly three hours there and saw only a small part of site. (It was a cloudy day, so my pictures are rather dark.)

One enters the “monastic city” by way of a gateway which is unique among Irish monastic ruins. Other monasteries or abbeys may have had such gateways, but this seems to be the only one that has been preserved. The gateway originally may have been roofed over for several meters. The gateway signified that one was entering a place of sanctuary or refuge.

Entering the Monastic City through the Gateway

Entering the Monastic City through the Gateway

Gateway to Monastic City Seen from within the City

Gateway to Monastic City Seen from within the City

As one enters the monastic city now, what one mostly sees are gravestones. Like nearly all ruined monastic cites (and many ruined churches) it has continued to be considered holy ground and thus an appropriate place for the burial of the faithful. Most of the buildings that would have comprised the city at its largest size were probably thatch-roofed wattle-and-daub structures which are long gone. The monastery in its heyday would have included workshops, areas for manuscript writing and copying, guest houses, an infirmary, and farm buildings and dwelling for both monks and a large lay population. What remain are a few stone structures, including a “cathedral” and a round tower. Most of the surviving buildings probably date from between the 10th and 12th Centuries.

The round tower is constructed of mica-slate and granite; it is about 30 meters high, with an entrance 3.5 meters from the base. At one time it was thought that these high entrances to round towers were for defensive purposes, but it is now believed that they are that high simply to provide the most solid possible foundation for the structure, to prevent leaning or collapse.

Round towers were meant to be seen; they were built to provide a landmark for pilgrims making their way to the monasteries. There are 52 known round towers in Ireland, all associated with monasteries, abbeys, and cathedral churches, places of pilgrimage. They were probably also meant to be heard. The Irish word for a round tower is cloigtheach, which means “bell house”.

The Round Tower at Glendalough

The Round Tower at Glendalough

The largest structure on the site is the “cathedral”. It is constructed of mica-shist and granite. It is thought that a smaller structure was replaced in the 12th or 13th Century with the current building.

Interior of the Glendalough Cathedral

Interior of the Glendalough Cathedral

A few steps from the front door of the cathedral is “the priest’s house”. The original purpose of this building is unknown, though it is thought that it may have housed the relics of St. Kevin. It’s current name comes from the practice of interring priests here during the 18th and 19th Centuries.

The Priest's House

The Priest's House

The only roofed structure on the site is St. Kevin’s Church, also called St. Kevin’s Kitchen. It is a nave-and-chancel church from the 12th century. It has a small round belfry above the west doorway, which apparently was added to the church after the original construction. Only the foundations now remain of the chancel, and beside it still stands the stone-roofed sacristy.

St. Kevin’s Kitchen

St. Kevin’s Kitchen

Passing St. Kevin’s Kitchen, one makes ones way to the 1.4 km pathway along the mountain-side of the lower lake (a 1.6 km boardwalk path is available along the other side).

Oak Forest through with the Pathway Runs

Oak Forest through with the Pathway Runs

At the upper lake (which is the prettier of the two lakes) are additional ruins – the Reefert Church, St. Kevin’s Cell (remains of a stone beehive hut), St. Kevin’s Bed (a man-enlarged cave), and Teampall na Skellig (the latter two reachable only by boat) – and natural wonders such as Poulanass Falls.

The Upper Lake

The Upper Lake

Stream from Poulanass Falls

Stream from Poulanass Falls

The only one of these that I visited is the Reefert Church. (My right ankle on which I had Achilles tendon surgery a couple of years ago was complaining by the time I got to the upper lake, so further mountain trails were not inviting). The name derives from Righ Fearta, meaning the burial place of the Kings. Reefert Church is set on the mountain side and is approached by a steep path and a stone stairway.

Reefert Church

Reefert Church

Reefert Church

Reefert Church

I walked back to the monastic city by way of the boardwalk, a longer but easier path.

Boardwalk along the Lower Lake

Boardwalk along the Lower Lake

As one approaches the monastic city, one sees the Round Tower as an approaching pilgrim may have seen it. (In the foreground of the following picture is St. Mary’s Church, a ruin not accessible to visitors.)

The Round Tower Seen from the Boardwalk

The Round Tower Seen from the Boardwalk

St. Kevin’s monastic city thrived from its founding in the 6th Century until it was sacked by English forces in 1398. However it continued as a church of local importance and a place of pilgrimage. Descriptions of Glendalough in the 18th and 19th Centuries include reference to occasions of “riotous assembly” on the feast of St. Kevin (June 3).

Today, it is a tourist attraction as well as a place of pilgrimage. There were tour groups from many nations while I was there (I heard French, Spanish, Italian, and German spoken along the path as I walked between the lakes). There was also a group from Ecuador singing and praying inside the cathedral during my visit. The monastic ruins at Glendalough are an active place!

Not so the ruins at Baltinglass which I will describe in part two of this entry.

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