Pilgrimage to Iona

Though it is only three miles long and a mile wide, ever since the Celtic saint Columba set sail from Ireland in the 6th century and landed by chance on this Hebridean island, Iona has been a place of pilgrimage, acclaimed by pilgrims and islanders alike as a "thin place" where the spiritual and material realms come together and the presence of the divine is especially felt. This was certainly our experience as well. The journey alone adds to the sense of expectation-- to get there from Glasgow we had to take the train to Oban, a ferry to the Island of Mull, a bus across Mull, and then another ferry to Iona.

The 12th century Benedictine Abbey, built at the end of the Celtic period to assert Rome's hegemony over the British isles, was abandoned during the Scottish Reformation, though pilgrims still made the long journey to sit in the Abbey ruins, drawn both by its history and beauty. In 1938, George MacLeod, a Church of Scotland minister (that's Presbyterian, for those of you who haven't studied your Reformation history), pastor of an inner-city church in Glasgow, proposed a rebuilding of the Abbey, both to provide employment to out-of-work laborers in Glasgow, and as a training ground for young ministers to work in the growing industrial areas of Scotland. It took them 40 years. In the process, the Iona community emerged as a place of pilgrimage, study, work and prayer, where a deep spirituality is forged with an equally deep commitment to social justice. For the past several decades, since the reconstruction was completed, pilgrims-- both clergy and lay, seekers and skeptics-- have come each summer to live for a week within the Abbey walls, joining in the experience of community, with shared work, worship, prayer, study and reflection led by a small staff and a somewhat larger group of summer volunteers (mostly college students), along with guest leaders who lead the group in discussion and discernment related to the role of the church in the world. In the 1980's a second building, the MacCleod Center, was built just up the hill, to house additional guests, and host a second program.

The focus for our week at the Abbey was poverty and the local congregation, led by Kathy Galloway, who is leader of the Iona Community, and Naill Cooper, co-director of Church Action on Poverty, which is based in Manchester. Unlike our week at Taize, where adults my age where in the minority, this week we were all over thirty. (Alas, except for the volunteer staff, Kelsey was the only teenager.) The group consisted of about 45, mostly from the UK, although there were other Americans, as well as Canadians and Australians (all were native English speakers). Several were clergy (mostly Church of Scotland, Presbyterian or UCC).

The pattern of our day was somewhat similar to Taize. We gathered for breakfast in the refectory (the food was much better!), followed by worship in the Abbey Church, work assignments (Kelsey washed the first floor bathroom sinks and mirrors; I mopped the refectory stairs), and then we gathered for the remainder of the morning with Naill and Kathy for our "programme." Following lunch we had free time or an optional activity. There was worship again each night at 9 p.m.

Though substantively different in form and style than Taize, worship at Iona was equally wonderful. The music was led by a gifted song leader who would teach several simples hymns and chants before the service began, quickly taking the 100 or so first-time worshippers and forming them into a choir. Our Abbey group of 45 was joined by the group staying at the adjacent MacLeod Center (where they focused their week on spirituality, sexuality, and the church's welcome to the GLBT community), along with several dozen other visitors on the island (in addition to the Abbey and MacLeod Center, the island has several hotels and hostels). Though there were still periods of silence, and lots of wonderful singing, the Iona worship also included more spoken prayers, along with scripture readings and congregational responses. There was a sermon Sunday morning as well our final evening; otherwise, the services consisted of songs, prayers, and readings.

It's hard to describe exactly the atmosphere for worship. On the one hand, were were gathered in a 12th century abbey church, illuminated by candles as well as a few electric lights, giving the church a mystical quality. Yet the worship was warm, inviting, and participatory, and the tone was casual. (To Kelsey's delight, the music leader, Gillian, led worship the first evening dressed in bright green pajama pants, with red sneakers!). The worship order was traditional, yet the prayers and content consistently focused on contemporary concerns of the world (as one long-time volunteer put it, people often come to Iona seeking peace and quiet-- they leave seeking peace and justice).

Two afternoon activities stand-out: On Tuesday afternoon, we went on "Pilgrimage," walking as a group to several different sites on the island, led by the Abbey "warden," a Methodist minister on three-year assignment. At each stop, we would be told a bit about the history of the site, read a passage from scripture, sing a song, and reflect about our own spiritual journey (e.g., at the island crossroads, we reflected on crossroads in our own life; at the beach, we were invited to find a stone and throw it into the sea, symbolizing all the things we would like to leave behind-- then we were invited to pick up a stone to keep, symbolizing all the things we would like to take with us). I found myself wondering if we could adopt a similar pilgrimage route in DC for our own pilgrim groups!

On Wednesday afternoon we took a boat trip to the uninhabited island of Staffa, about an hour away. The island has a high bluff with wonderful views, unique rock formations unlike anything I have ever seen, including a cave, and is teeming with wildlife, most notably puffins. On the boat we also saw seals and dolphins.

Working, eating, cleaning, praying, singing, hiking, playing with the same small group of people all week creates a strong sense of community (which, of course, was the point). By the end of the week both Kelsey and I felt very close to the other participants. One night a group of us went down to the local pub (Kelsey just had water!). Another night they had Scottish folk dancing, called a "caleigh," and another they had a community talent show (the word "talent" used somewhat loosely). We were somewhat wistful when the week finally came to an end. As we met the ferry, the entire staff came down to the dock to see us off.

The day we left, we picked up a rental car in Oban and drove north further into the Highlands, stopping at Glenfinnin (where the "Hogwarts Express" makes it's journey), passing by Ben Nevis (Scotland's tallest mountain), and then spending the night in a castle south of Loch Ness. The next day we drove around Loch Ness, and then down to Edinburgh, where we met my brother and a friend. Sunday morning, we worshiped at St. Giles Cathedral (where John Knox forged the Scottish Reformation), and then spent another day and a half exploring Edinburgh before making our way home Tuesday. (Worship at St. Giles, by the way, was everything that Iona was not-- stuffy, elitist, and somewhat boring; the only part that Kelsey liked was the choir, which was lovely, and the sermon, which was short). The weather in Edinburgh was drab and rainy, but we enjoyed soaking up the history and the sampling the local food (we even tried haggis on our last night there-- and we actually liked it!).

Now we are home, weary from jet lag, and glad to be reunited with Cheryl and Andrea. I'm home for a week before my last trip, where Cheryl and I will join her father and his wife for several days in San Francisco and northern Sonoma County. I may not blog about that trip, but I will send one final blog, reflecting on this entire incredible sabbatical experience.