(Scotland, day 10 )
Merciful One,
Blessed Trinity,
We turn to you in faith
as a baby turns into the shoulder of her mother.
You have kept us safe
from the sun’s setting to its rising, Lord Christ,
and watched over us as we slept.
Spirit of the Living God,
set our hearts and wills aflame,
that we may bear your glory into the world,
and testify to the beauty of your gospel of love.
Guide us in our roaming
and protect us in our homing,
covering us with traveling mercies throughout our day.
Hear the whispered prayers of your beloveds,
and gather within your embrace
all those for whom we pray, O Merciful One.
Amen.
(Scotland, day 9 )
God of Mercy,
we rise to give you praise,
our eyes delighted in the sweep of your creation,
our spirits filled with wonder and awe.
Holy One of Blessing,
place the gentle breeze of friendship at our backs,
make the road soft beneath our feet,
and guide us by the light of your wisdom.
Place the kiss of your grace and peace
upon all who call upon you, Blessed Savior,
especially those we now name.
Amen.
(Scotland, day 7)
Almighty Creator,
Your song of love resounds
within the wave and the shore,
the wind and the trees,
the birds and the sky,
calling us to You,
and we rejoice at your care of us.
May we reflect your love, O Christ,
like the sea reflects the rosy rise of dawn,
and abide within the enclosure of your mercy,
breathing in your wisdom,
breathing out your peace upon all.
Mend the tattered corners of our hearts
by the soothing balm of your compassion,
O Merciful and Beneficent One,
and gather within your embrace
all those whom we lift before You.
Amen.
Our group arrived at Iona on a Saturday, converging first in Glasgow from east and from west, eager to reach the holy island via a successive means of conveyance: plane, bus, ferry, bus, ferry. The way of the pilgrim should not be easy— but in our impatient age the greatest inconvenience we endured was the pace of travel, the completion of a leg, then the wait to begin another, which would be completed in its own time.
Here St. Columba had arrived from Ireland in the sixth century, self-exiling himself from his beloved Ireland— there are a variety of theories offered as to why, but the story is that he kept sailing until he could no longer see the island of his birth. Setting out boldly on choppy seas in a leather-skinned boat, he arrived here with a few companions, he climbed the tallest hill nearby, and, when he could no longer see Ireland from it, it is said that he came down and set the boat on fire so that he couldn’t return home, perhaps thinking of Jesus’s instruction to those who would follow him that anyone who looked back after putting their hand to the plow was not fit to follow him— harsh words, but forthright. Nonetheless, there had been a push, there had been a pull, and Columba listened and went.
What does it mean to be a pilgrim? Perhaps it starts with feeling the push and the pull, and giving way to that force, allowing the wind of the Spirit to fill your sails, then to run before that wind until it takes you where it will.
We’d worshipped in the restored Abbey, and walked among the fallen stones at the Nunnery. The footsteps of pilgrims have resounded here since before Columba’s time, sure, but especially after his arrival, his founding of the monastery here, which itself spawned monasteries from Lindisfarne to the mainland of Scotland and southward into Ireland. When Viking raids forced the retreat of Columba’s monks back to Ireland, soon Benedictines arrived, and Augustinian nuns, and Columba’s wooden buildings were replaced with stone, defiantly proclaiming their intention to stay. This small island is hewn from some of the oldest rocks on the planet— many times older than on the island of Mull just to the east and visible across the sound. You can feel the ages here, and the song of the ages in the rocks still resound in the stones which were also used to build these buildings in which we now pray.
What does it mean to be a pilgrim? Perhaps it means to carry forward with determination, to establish and re-establish a base for yourself, to recognize and treasure the holy spaces when you encounter them, to feel the ancient song of God in your bones, calling you forward despite the obstacles.
We were hiking on a narrow sheep path that wound along a broad, sandy extended beach called a machair. Our guide, Sarah, was explaining how the machair was transformed and fertilized by the people of the island by laying kelp upon the ground. On this tiny island this was what seemed to be the sole broad, flat area on this rocky little outpost lying off the bigger rocky outpost of Mull, which lies off the rocky coast of Scotland proper. But here was a plain, covered with tiny white and yellow flowers, The earth seemed to ripple from the narrow plots that each villager had been given to till years ago: it was too hard to turn the plow, they’d found, so each villager received one long strip exactly a plow’s width wide. And now that no one farmed it, the islanders had converted the machair into a golf course, groomed by grazing sheep. Of course.
What does it mean to be a pilgrim? Perhaps it is to encounter the resistance to turning, and to find a way forward nonetheless.
At one point in our long hike it had started to rain hard, and we were all soaking wet, and when we would stop for a meditation we all huddled in a circle, listening, praying, and singing. At one moment I looked up and noticed the sheep who could not find a bunker on the golf course were huddled in a circle exactly as we were, butts facing outward against rain and wind. But then the sun broke through the clouds, and we made our way down to the beach where Columba had landed over a millennium ago. We were encouraged to pick up two stones from the rocky shoreline. One was to represent all that you wanted to cast away, all that weighs you down— that one was to be flung into the waves. Another was to represent what you hoped to carry away from the pilgrimage, to carry back with you into your everyday life to further strengthen you in the path you follow in the day-to-day. That one was to be brought home with you, to abide with you as a gossamer remembrance reminding us of that intention, that promise given in God’s name.
What does it mean to be a pilgrim? Perhaps it means knowing what to cast off, and what to treasure and to retain.
This was first published at Episcopal Cafe's Speaking to the Soul on June 5, 2019.
(Scotland, day 6)
Most Merciful God,
may we hear your voice
as it croons to us
as a Mother sings to her child,
as You call us to peace and compassion.
We praise You, O Creator,
in the morning light,
that opens our eyes to your wonders.
Strengthen our desire for good, Lord Christ,
so that we may defend it,
body and soul,
and renounce and shun what is evil,
especially when inaction is easy or comfortable.
Beloved Savior, may we always walk in your ways;
help us stand firm in faithfulness,
and share with those who have any need.
So may we welcome the enfolding night
at day’s end,
that we may rest in security and faith,
knowing of your tender care over us
as angels stand watch in our sleep.
Pour out your wisdom and guidance
upon each step today, O Holy One of Blessing,
and draw beneath your sheltering wing
all those for whom we pray.
Amen.
(Scotland, day 5)
Beloved Savior, settle your peace upon us,
peace beyond our ken,
peace that drops soft and slow
like the rays from the sun at the clouds’ parting.
Light us from within, Lord Jesus,
with the beauty of your gospel of grace and mercy,
that we may radiate your love
as a beacon to the world.
Help us be truly present
in each moment with You, O God,
that we may be filled with the wisdom
of compassion and charity,
walking in truth and integrity with each other.
Breathe upon us your Spirit, O God,
that we may be utterly at peace
and grounded within your love.
Trusting in your unfailing goodness,
we commend to your care those we lift before You.
Amen.
(Scotland, day 4)
Most Merciful God,
whose hand upholds us in all our journeys,
we gather before you in gratitude
to sing your praises with joy!
May your word be to us
like rain on thirsty ground,
awakening us to new insight and clarity
as we grow deeper in wisdom and compassion,
nourished by your gospel, Lord Christ.
May we walk the good road with you, O Savior,
and our companions in the Way of Love,
building up the bonds of kinship
with all whom we encounter today.
Anoint us with the power of the Holy Spirit,
that we may be filled
with the knowledge of our unity, O Blessed Trinity.
Press the kiss of your blessing
upon all who seek You, O God,
and grant your peace beyond understanding
to those for whom we pray.
Amen.
(Scotland, day 3)
Creating God,
whose Spirit breathed goodness over creation,
lead us to your altar,
rejoicing as we worship You.
Our hearts are stirring
with a song of praise,
joining with the chanting stars
and swooping swallows
to give you thanks and glory.
May we live and serve You, Lord Christ,
with integrity and compassion,
faithful to your call
to love one another in all things.
Merciful God,
who gathers all the world
under the sheltering wing of your grace and mercy,
pour out your blessing over us,
and over all those for whom we pray.
Amen.
(Scotland, day 2)
Holy One, we raise our praises
as we rise and see the wonders of your creation
blooming within
and blooming without.
Help us to walk more closely with You, Beloved Jesus,
our Brother and Guide,
that we may live out your truth in joy.
Sustain us with your blessing,
O Spirit of Holiness,
and grant your peace to those for whom we pray.
Amen.
