Posted on Jul 15, 2009
I arrived on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne ealry in the afternoon after dropping Giles, Sam and Alex at the airport in Glasgow. Last time I came at the end of a 64 mile hike, walking the last 5 miles over the tidal flats. This time it was a quick drive over the causeway. It's a good thing I was driving. Three weeks travelling with the family was wonderful, but three weeks of playing tourguide was exhausting. This time around my Holy Island time was mostly recuperation.
Holy Island can't make up its mind whether it wants to be an island or a peninsula, and depoending on the tides, it is both during the day. When the tide is out and the causeway driveable it is a crowded tourist venue. But when the tide comes in and the causeway is under water, most of the tourists disappear and the population of he island drops to 300. That's when the island comes into its own. Every afternoon I went out to a beach facing the mainland to the North where the waves crash in over the rocks in an impressive fashion. There are supposed to be grey seals, and though I never saw them, I could hear them crooning at night.
I attended Morning Prayer and Sunday eucharist at St. Mary's, the parish church. It is a medieval church whch stands immediately behind the ruins of the Priory. I also attended a quiet, contemplative service at St. Cuthbert's Centre, the Presbyterian Church on the Island. I had spoken with the Rev. Barry Hutchinson at a Centering Prayer group last itme I was there and it was good to get reaquainted.
One day I drove south into Yorkshire to visit the ruins of Rievaulx Abbey. This was the motherhouse of all of the Cistercian Abbeys in Northern England and Southern Scotland, built during a great religious revival in the 12th Century. I managed to get lost along the way, but it was worth the extra driving. It is a very well preserved abbey nestled in the depths of a green valley. It was the home of St. Aelred , who is one of my heroes. He wrote a book called On Spiritual Friendship in which he said that friendship was the human relationship in which we see most closely refelcted our relationship with God.
On Monday, as I was leaving Holy Island, I drove south to Seahouses to take a boat tour of the Farne Islands. Just a few miles off of Lindisfarne, it was on Inner Farne that St. Cuthbert lived the last few years of his life as a hermit. There's a tiny medieval church on the island, whch is fortunate because it rained while I was there and I was able to squeeze in with the other visitors. It is also the home of thousands of Arctic Terns, Puffins, Skags and Cormorants. It's breeding season and the terns divebomb the heads of anyone who walks into their territory (i.e. the whole island). It's hard to imagine a saint being contemplative with the constant noise and the antics of the seabirds.
From Seahouses it was only 16 miles to Nether Springs, the "Mother House" of the Northumbria Community, where I was booked in for a 4 day retreat. The Northumbria Community is a dispersed community. The resident staff maintain Nether Springs a retreat center, but the 200 or so members of the community live out in the world, returning to the Mother House for rest and renewal. They follow a common rule of life, based on the Sermon on the Mount and inspired by the lives of the great saints who planted Christianity in the Northumbria.
It's a very down to earth retreat center, located in a rambling farmhouse with a walled garden. Everyone is expected to pitch in, and I did everything from harvesting blackcurrants to chopping oninons and washing pots. There is alo time for reflection and prayer. Everyone meets to pray in the morning, at noon, in the late afternoon and before bed. I had time to walk out to St. Cuthbert's Cave. Cuthbert was a 7th Century missionary bishop of Lindisfarne, known for his gentleness and the pastoral care he gave even to the poorest of his people. When the Vikings raided Lindisfarne several centuries after his death the cave was where the fleeing monks spent their first night. It is set in a ridge with a tall rock cairn on top. It is easy to imagine one of the brothers keeping eatch and looking back at the flickering flames of the manastery in the distance.
I was also able to visit Old Bewick (pronounced Buick) Church(a href="http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/79636"). We think Lebanon Chapel is old, but old Bewick was built in the 12th Century. It is smaller than Lenanon and a real gem of a Norman Chapel. I spent an hour in the quiet, praying and reading evening prayer.
The community has a balance between contemplation and action. Two of the resident staff are a couple who came for a year to recuperate from years of active ministry with the mentally ill. They will be leaving soon to join a community which ministers to the homeless.
I will be leaving tomorrow to go to Melrose in Scotland. Melrose is where I began my walk two years ago, and I will spend my time visiting the ruins of the great border abbeys. On Saturday I head off to the island of Iona.