Feast of St Aidan - Flame of the North

Aidan - Flame of the North 

Genesis 1:3

And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. 

Today sees the feast day of St Aidan and a week of celebrating the the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne and her saints.

For a wonderful account of the life of Aidan see Canon Kate Tristam's article here. 

St Aidan's Bamburgh

from the Baptistry

When I have the time, my visits to Lindisfarne include paying my respects to Wilfrid at Hexham and then Aidan at St Aidan's in Bamburgh. By tradition, Aidan died in an earlier wooden church on this site and the beam he was leaning against has survived two major fires. Benedictines rebuilt the church in the 12th Century, honouring the memory of the Celtic 'apostle'. 

In a symbol of resurrection the beam is now part of the roof work over the baptistry. 

There is a simple shrine over the ground where he lay and, touchingly, prayer tokens take the celtic shape of shells, pebbles and feathers tucked into a little stone recess at the side.  

Then it is often a case of racing the tide for the crossing - it seems to be another personal tradition to only just make it one way or the other. 

This year was the first year that I made the crossing on foot - in bare feet to be precise - following the sentinel posts that mark safe passage. The poem and post Pilgrim Sands celebrates the experience of walking in the footsteps of all those who wander for the love of Christ.  

There are probably a thousand ways of expressing Celtic spirituality -  Aidan is one who carries God's hospitality with him. Wherever he was, he was the doorkeeper to the Kingdom - and his lamp was always lit.

Blessing of Aidan 

May you  shine with Heaven's Light 

May your heart be Light

in Love's longing

May your words be Light 

in dark times

May your hands be Light

in life's struggles

May your feet be Light

in sharing journeys

and bringing all to the Feast

May you shine with Heaven's Light

Blessed be

wordinthehand2013

Mindfulness

Hobthrush Isle off Lindisfarne

Mindfulness

The Island teaches attention

To the nature of passing time;

The Island teaches rhythm

Ocean’s ebb and flow:

The Island teaches patience

And learning in the waiting;

The Island teaches presence

Stillness in the landscape:

The Island teaches faith

God’s finger on your pulse:

The Island teaches life

And death.

 

The Island teaches

It is not you who decides.

wordinthehand2012

Lindisfarne Days - the Sabbath Day

Ita - Heart Mother

Genesis 2:3

And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, 

Information on the life of St Ita here

Another early saint and a mother of the church a generation later than Brigid but equally honoured as a 'wetnurse of Christ'. 

Unlike Brigid who appears to have managed to be a 'wanderer of Christ' despite her gender, Ita brings a particularly rooted and maternal influence to the faith,  yet Ita was known to spend much time in contemplative prayer - it is what she brings out of that prayer that 'mothers' her charges. 

As a foster mother of many early saints including Brendan, these young souls benefitted not only from her pastoral care but from her gifts as mystic, healer and soul-friend. 

Her symbol of the celtic heart shaped knot speaks of a rhythm of faith that moves into the heart of the cross and spirals outwards to the heart of the world. 
A rhythm of Love between the Sacred Three - Father, Son and Spirit- that reached out to others in invitation. 
A rhythm of courage and humility that fed the vocations of those that moved out across the land. 

The gift of 'nursing' the Christ child is not given to many  - it is not asked for by many. Once we have given ourselves over to God; we imagine that God needs to be the one in charge; we are His children. 

We are not Jesus' children - our relationship is relational - Jesus enters our time zone so that, at times , we are brother and sister; at other times mother and father. The incarnation brings God into our lives as a newborn; utterly helpless; as we have been. 

How hard is that to comprehend?

Who, finding a baby on their doorstep, would willingly take the responsibility of nursing it; of caring for it; of bringing the child up as their own; of being father or mother? 

Who wants to be responsible for the wellbeing of God?

But isn't that what being a disciple is all about?

The desire to say 'yes'.

it may not be seasonal yet it seems appropriate to remind myself of this one word that opens the heart to all that our faith asks of us: 

Blessed be

For Northumbria Community's Sunday Compline see here

Lindisfarne Days - the Sixth Day

Patrick - dear saint of our Isle

Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground."

There's a fair amount of information on St Patrick  this site is fairly open to both legend and fact - such as it is.

Patrick's missionary work was nowhere near Lindisfarne and centuries earlier than the brothers and sisters we celebrate this week.

Which, I suppose, is the point on several levels. 

To be reminded that we are all 'dwarves standing on the shoulders of giants'. That we are all beholden in our belonging and our traditions to those who have gone before. We have all sat at the feet of someone who told us this story that we seek to be a part of. 

Also, that Lindisfarne, and anywhere else that we regard as sacred, may be places for rest and renewal, but our ministry is most often in the place where we live and the people that we meet in our ordinary but 'extraordinary' lives. 

And then, that we should be aware of this world where we live; that the missionaries carried the faith across the country; the holy road led everywhere; reached everyone. And that there are memories are left behind if we only open our eyes.

St Patrick's Well isn't my nearest sacred space but the one I would probably have never visited if I hadn't made the commitment to 'look at the ground beneath my feet'.



Part of the nature reserve - known as the 'Wirral Way' - travels through Bromborough, about five miles from my home.

Bromborough is one of the possible sites of an epic battle in 937, the Battle of Brunanburh, This is the first battle where England came together as one country, to fight the combined forces of the Norsemen and the Scots, and historians consider it the birthplace of England; this area is known as Dibbinsdale being centred around the River Dibbin. It's a mixture of meadow, riverside wetland and retains some of the ancient woodland of the 12th Century forest.

A breath of water and woodland surrounded by busy rush hour traffic; industrial units and a shopping outlet; I have driven past hundreds of times always on my way to 'somewhere else'.

This summer I turned into the sandstone lined lane; came to a halt in the tree encircled car park and took a look at the reserve map with the philosophical comment 'you are here'.

And on one of the many woodland walks there was a label and a small detour over a wooden bridge to a spot marked 'St Patrick's Well'.

St Patrick is reputed to have blessed this well, a scarce source of fresh water at the time, before his mission to Ireland in 432. Tradition or otherwise - this little corner has kept the title ever since.

Water has always been a sacred place in pagan and celtic spirituality. It would make perfect sense as the celts moved from pagan to Christian belief to have their source of water blessed by a man who embodied the strengths of the Druids and the Christian faith. You would wonder why it wasn't more famous; why, indeed, it didn't have it's own pilgrimage trail?

                                                  On seeing the sign I was a little hesitant to go further; what if it was neglected; vandalised; graffittied? What if it was a dreadful disappointment? What if it wasn't even there?

But it was; the walk lead downhill into a sandstone gorge. I found myself following a path below the surface of the modern road - beside the path the runoff from the rain mingled with the cascades of a brook that widened into small river.  An arrowed sign that seemed to lead nowhere and there it was - a small squared-off entrance with markers of ancient masonery held in the grip of the deep roots of a beech tree. The water clear and bright above the debris of nature's leavings - seed pods, twigs, leaves and crab apples.

A certain neglectful elegance; a stillness; a sense of presence that was both spiritual and remarkably mundane.

There was nowhere to sit apart from the floor and the weather wasn't kind - leaning against the rocky outcrop the sound of the traffic above faded into a quiet humm. Any sense of moving on disappeared; stillness descended.

As dogwalkers and bmx bikers passed by there was a sense of timelines crossing; boundaries being pulled down. Sixteen hundred years plus of people coming to the Well; a place of life, of faith, of hope. And here I am today seeking the same refreshment of life.

Even if Patrick hadn't been here although there was a plain-ness and a practicality that would have certainly suited his spirituality - this place, this water was valued; was important; was sacred in a discrete way; sacred enough to remain inviolate. Somewhat returned to Creation; but why not? Why not?

God in the Everyday; the Everywhere - in a walk through woodland; across tidal  sands or sitting in a ancient church. Holy men and women have come before us whether or not we know their names - we are all part of a greater realm - we just have to take the time to step out of the normal way of things now and again.

I count the four hour plus drive to Lindisfarne as well worth it even when it is just for the day; but I can't do it every day.  Perhaps this is a good reminder that before we start out on our pilgrimages of faith we should first know where it is we start from.

As Mary Oliver says:

"Instructions for living a life.

Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it." 

wordinthehand 2012

The Northumbria Community's Compline for Saturday  here

Lindisfarne Days - The Fifth Day

Boisil - Healer and Teacher

                                              Genesis 1:22

God blessed them and said, "Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth.

Saint Boisil, Confessor, was a Northumbrian trained  at Lindisfarne Priory by Saint Aidan.  He became a monk and quickly rose to be Prior of Melrose Abbey. Bede tells us that the saint was a man of  virtues as well as an eminent scholar.  He was widely known and sought after for his herbal remedies, and for his blessing of the healing properties of the two local springs containing iron salts. Interestingly, these wells are clearly marked on the OS maps of today - the Wellbury Well in the bank just below his chapel, and the Hare (corruption of ‘Heir’ meaning ‘Holy’)Well which lies near St Boswells Burn.  When the young Saint Cuthbert came to Melrose Abbey rather than the more famous Lindisfarne, Boisil welcomed him at the gate and said  to the monks with whom he was standing: "Behold the servant of the Lord". The Abbot soon gave permission for Cuthbert to enter the community, and Boisil ensured that he "watched, prayed, worked and read harder than anyone else". They became great friends. Both were given to travelling amongst the villages neighbouring Melrose and preaching to the local people. In AD 659,  Boisil became Abbot of Melrose. Two years later, Boisil showed a gift of foresight, or health knowledge,  when a great plague swept through the monastery. Cuthbert was affected by the disease and came close to death, but Boisil confidently announced that he would recover. He also predicted his own death from the same epidemic, to which he, indeed, fell victim. Shortly before the end, Boisil made his most famous prophecy, foretelling that Cuthbert would be a great influence in the Church and would, one day, rise to Bishop. The growth of the faith may have been led by the lights of saints such as Aidan and Cuthbert - but on their own they could well have fell into legend and folklore.  The monasteries and abbeys provided places of academic and spiritual learning, a place for a community of faith to develop and support each other; a place for a lineage of faith to grow.  Whilst having every faith in the gift of prophecy I feel Boisil expressed it through his talents as a teacher; awareness and compassion as a healer. When you take the time to get to know people then you can 'know' a great deal.  George Bernard Shaw wrote ' he who can - does, he who cannot - teaches'; which becomes a paradox if the 'can' is 'teach'. Christianity became fruitful and filled the villages, farms and lanes with those who could and did - but with thanks to those who could and taught.  Cuthbert was guarding sheep when Aidan's light called to him - this poem seems appropriate for a Abbot who probably treated his students like so many lambs.  The images are of the more northerly scottish isles - a reminder of the web of faith that had spread across the land to Lindisfarne and then back out into the world. Lambs wordinthehand2012

The Northumbria Community's Compline for Friday is here

Lindisfarne Days - the Fourth Day

Ebba -Warrior Princess

Genesis 1:16,17

  God also made the stars. God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth,

Moon through the Rainbow Arch, Lindisfarne Priory

Having just celebrated Ebba's feast day my post on her is here

 

Another saint with a few legends and fewer facts considering her position as prioress of the double monastery at Coldingham.  The reports tell that she was a devout and holy woman so suggests that perhaps she wasn't particularly interested in promoting her own achievements to the world. Some people make better stars than suns and moons.

As the sister of Oswald and Oswy she certainly had great value as a marriage partner. But although some tales tell that she entered religious life to escape the attentions of a prince; as a new found Christian this may not have been a decision forced upon her. 

it may well have been that, like her brothers, Ebba saw herself as not as a handmaid but as a soldier of Christ (a name the Irish monks had used for themselves) and took on the vocation of teacher and missionary with all the academic and diplomatic skills that the royal household will have taught her. The Angles of the North-East would not have been pushovers. And Wilfrid has her to thank for settling more than one dispute between him and her nephew Ecgfrith the then King of Northumbria; including getting him out of Dunbar prison for acting like a lord rather than a monk.

That she was not so canny at running the monastery is a great criticism of her; however religious life appealed to many members of society as a refuge; avoidance opportunity and retirement home. Not all inhabitants regarded chastity or temperance as particularly important until holy orders were confirmed - and maybe not even then. There wasn't the discernment of vocation that has developed now and, of course,  the communities of religious life were still finding their way and writing their Rules. 

Perhaps  her real skills were in bringing Jesus to those who sought him rather than managing those looking for somewhere to hide. If so, no wonder she would retire and leave them to their own devices. 

Ebba probably never visited Lindisfarne; it seems to have been a male only community - intended, perhaps, to support the choice of celibate living. 

And the cultural, rather than religious practices, would have made it difficult for women to walk the roads as their brothers did. I wonder how much of that decision was made by the women themselves? People seem to always have trouble with St Paul's assertion that there are no 'this or thats' anymore. 

With many men away from home - fishermen, herders, kings - it was the woman who customarily ran the household. Often with great authority, efficiency and hospitality. A monastery was simply a family on a very large scale. 

This pattern of monasteries and missionaries echo the ebb and flow of Celtic life -  wanderers of Christ need somewhere to leave and somwhere to come back to. The hearth was considered to be the woman's spiritual domain. And women's ministry, acknowledged and important as it was, was usually centred around a settled community. 

Being the one with a different calling; a different vision of life has never been easy. I have a great empathy for this woman who - a very unreliable legend has it - cut off her nose to spite her face (there was a prince involved).

 Only to have God restore her. 

This poem is one of a series of Woman's Prayers written on the island - it is inspired by Mary Magdalen - a woman I'm sure Ebba would have welcomed. The other poems are here and here . And the photos are of some of the women who have made it onto the island - in one way or another.

Woman's Prayer - Redeemed

Lord, God of my life
I walk in your footprints
A follower, head bowed
Freed from my demons
I am nothing but yours
I am not worthy

You come to stillness
And say my name
I lift my eyes to yours
A look of invitation
Love’s companion
You take me in your arms
Mercy wrapped in Mercy
And I rest
Clothed in You

Blessed be

wordinthehand2012

The Northumbria Community's Compline for Thursday is here

Lindisfarne Days - the Third Day

Felgild - the Unknown 

Genesis 1:11

Then God said, "Let the land produce vegetation: seed—bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds."

What information there is about Felgild is here

There is so little known about Felgild and I admit that I have never been as far as the Farne Islands. 

It may feel that this day is hardly worthwhile. But then I also agree with the sentiments of the Northumbria Community - the faith is made up mostly of the un-named and the unknown - with thanks to God for having us all written on his hand. 

Like Peter's mother-in-law, Felgild is cured of his illness so that we may be certain that God knows each and every one of us and provides, in one way or another, the means for us to fulfill our particular and perculiar ministries and vocations. 

The history of the Lindisfarne Monks suggests a gathering of at least twelve men with twelve apprentice boys as well as the pastoral and domestic carers needed for such a place to survive. The number of named saints is pretty well limited to the writings of the Venerable Bede. But the faith is more than those who find themselves recorded in history.

Surely there were many, many missionaries carrying the Good News throughout the lands - living out the Good News in their land - surely there are many now?

How is this shown on the island? One way could well be the flora that flourishes here. Most of the island is covered in a matting of greenery and varied vegetation. From a distance or a pacing walk nothing much to look at. Sandals, walking boots and trainers regularly and carelessly cover the ground; climb the cliffs or wander the bridleways without a second glance at what is underfoot. The focus being on where they are going - not where they are now. 

But the life underfoot and spilling from walls and cliffs is precious and unique. Each flower a miracle in itself; a celebration of creative giftedness as they survive the salt winds and coarse sun to bloom in celebration of life calling to life. Some so delicate you would imagine them cossetted in a glasshouse and admired through a lens.

 And here they are; pilgrims from the mainland; hermits in the clefts and gullies of the rockspaces; martyrs in the giving of themselves; saints in the divine beauty that they reveal. And I know hardly any of their names. 

A visit last year resulted in this reflection -

Blessed be

The Northumbria Community's Compline for Wednesday is here

wordinthehand2012

Lindisfarne Days - the Second Day

Cuthbert - Anam Cara

Genesis 1:6

And God said, "Let there be an expanse between the waters 
to separate water from water."

Information about the life of Cuthbert here

seal off Cuthbert's isle

In my heart I feel a great similarity between Cuthbert and Francis of Assisi. Cuthbert doesn't seem to carry the angst that Francis suffers; perhaps because elder 'brother' Aidan had gone before him. He holds the same sense of mindfulness of the world around him; tales of praying otters and friendly 'Cuddy' (Eider) ducks add to the sense of a man at one with creation.

Like Aidan he carries with him the sense of God's hospitality which results in a ministry of welcoming others with a kindness that is both physical and spiritual. The wildness of Lindisfarne is even now held in a breath of God's peace which captures the pilgrim with the first step onto the island and is in everything.

Massie's Cafe

If you have not visited then you may imagine that the island as some kind of open air cathedral with 'quiet please' signs on every corner. In fact, the change of the tide brings a wealth of visitors; pilgrims, fishermen, photographers, National Trust members, birdwatchers, ramblers, families with buckets and spades. There is a camp for inner-city and underpriviledged children, a varied selection of B&B's, hotels, holiday cottages and, yes, even retreat houses. And people live there, work there and commute there -and back again. In spite of the vaguaries of weather and tide - even the children sometimes have to board off-island - it is a home and a place of welcome. 

view across to Bamburgh; 

The wisdom and healing of Cuthbert called to just as many people way back then - Anam Cara meaning soul friend - despite the difficulties of travelling and the waiting on the capricious nature of wind and wave. And whilst the grace of God may be without measure; there is a human cost; even the most compassionate of friends needs a time to rest. 

Before he headed out to the remote refuge of the Farne islands, Cuthbert found a space apart on a little outcrop isle now known as Cuthbert's Island - this place being cut off even from Lindisfarne itself at certain points of the tide. 

Cuthbert's isle 

Arriving on Lindisfarne my first call is often the hill overlooking the isle to gauge the likelihood of getting on during the day. This has to be measured with care as the tide moves in rapidly over rocks and quicksand catching your balance even when quite shallow. The remains of a chapel capture the heart with thoughts of nights spent in prayer and rest held against the heart of God and sometimes against the furies of the Spirit's storms. The poem below was written on a day of fury and grace.

Cuthbert's chapel

The tip of the isle is called the promontory and is a place to stand against the wind and the gaze of the setting sun - see my post Lindisfarne Pilgrim.

Some Christians question the need for saints; surely the personal relationship with Jesus is all we should strive for. But I have a need of friends who have gone before; as brothers and sisters who can lead me home.  From my first step on this island it felt that Cuthbert has made a space for me. 

Island Madness

Madness rains;

Baltic storms hauled westward

By an intake of Earth’s breath.

This place, a vortex of power;

Creation’s pride overflowing.

Snow, wind and waves

Unbound in glorious fury

Against rock and stone.

While God’s breastplate

defends the Heavens,

glowering at a gunmetal sea.

Madness reigns;

Pilgrims called eastward

By the Spirit’s insistent breath.

Fellowship bound in Faith,

Boundless in Love.

Leaps of laughter,

in defiance of Gaia’s boasting,

are tempered by the

Aweful recognition of earthpower.

Yet it is transient man who is pledged

In Covenant to Creation’s Lord.

Blessed be.

wordinthehand2012

Northumbria Community's Compline for Tuesday here