Tag Archives: Columba

Take not food until you are hungry.

Posted on February 21, 2012 | 2 Comments

Take not food until you are hungry

The Rule of Columba

Elitism is a destructive force and I am mindful of it as I write on fasting. The early British monk and historian St Gildas writing in the early 6th century was openly critical of what he saw as elitist monks who spent more time fasting than working and in doing so had made fasting and aestheticism an idol, rather than a practice through which to draw close to God.

Yet fasting has never been optional extra for those that follow Christ, it is clearly an expectation,

‘When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full‘ (Matthew vi, 15).

As my exploration of Columban spirituality has developed, I have been mindful and challenged by the simply put ‘take not food until you are hungry‘. Although not an explicit reference to fasting, it is pertinent challenge to the overweight consumption of our fast food culture. A direct addressing of our relationship with food of which every living creature naturally has a vested interest in. For many in the monastic churches of Britain and Ireland, food was taken only as required.

“When the stomach is full, it is easy to talk of fasting” St Jerome (340?-420)

Equally it has begun to sensitize me to the issue of appetite and the role food plays in suppressing and controlling the development of personality and culture. If I agree with the basic supposition that my life is dysfunctional, my character out of alignment with Gods, then I, like others am faced with stark choices as to how to respond. Food has become, I would suggest, more than meal, a shared table of hospitality, a means by which we are able to demonstrate Gods compassion for the hungry, or our daily link to the health and inherent goodness and provision of creation. The cult of food and the fulfilling of immediate appetites has become a curse to great to bear for the west, as the obesity epidemic gripping our societies indicates, as the food miles of the supermarkets cripples the environment and impoverishes poor farmers through unfair terms of trade on supply contracts and commodity exchanges.  The unequal distribution of food and the millions globally malnourished as a result, is the disgrace of our scandalous selfishness that we seemingly wear with pride as we tuck into a 99 cent plastic burger in the name of ‘good value’. Are the golden arches the gateway to spiritual oblivion? These external manifestations of greed linked to appetite only exist because the internal world of the souls goodness, mingled with the grace of God has become polluted and the self substitutes this with an idol; in our case a wrong relationship with food.

As I prepare for what has become for me an annual fast leading up to the celebration of the Celtic Easter date of 15 April, one of my aims this year will be to explore fasting in a more proactive intentional way of calling out the ‘Monastic Churches of Britain and Ireland’ (as I will blog separately on this over the next few weeks of Lent I won’t explore this further in this post) This may sound counter-intuitive given that fasting is an intentional activity by definition, but I do believe for many fasting, especially in the protestant tradition has become something we do, a bit like a sanctified diet, if at all, and to a minimal impact. I hear of television fasts, chocolate fasts, my favorite computer game, Indian take away (one my wife consistently encourages). My fasting becomes the removal of a small part of the edge of my lifestyle, which may act as a reminder of Christ, but will not radically alter that trajectory of my lifestyle that may in turn move the very ground on which my relationship with God is built.

Another aspect of fasting, alongside the external political implications it can have on publicly standing against over consumption, is that it actively addresses the internal imbalance and our over reliance on sustenance that does not reflect the incarnation of God. It is only in Christ that the moral paradox of the incarnation of God as a poor man born into poverty and simplicity whom we are called to imitate, as opposed to what Julius Nyerere the first President of Tanzania once said in regards to the plight of his nation, ‘that God created humanity in his own image. I refuse to believe in a God who is poor, starving and illiterate’ can be reconciled. Fasting therefore catapults us towards being rooted in a symbolic re-imagining and imitation of the life of Christ. That life rooted in truth and the search for veracity in the earth and dust of my life.

I know Jesus fasted, and I am always drawn to the relationship between fasting and the desert. The desert a place of being alone with self, stripped of all props that crowd our life and distract us from our core being. The desert a silent place where only the cries of wildlife act as partners in our prayers. The desert a place were you are alone to battle the demons of your own self and the phantoms of your own perverted appetites. Fasting and the desert are Gods chosen partners in stripping us down to bare essentials and testing our resolve to put God before everything.

My personal practice, and one I have been developing since 2008, is to eat one meal a day after sundown. As I have repeated this each year I have built in new facets, like no alcohol, no take away food, or eating out. Each year growing in confidence that I can take another step in exploring the benefits of fasting. Last year I made the fatal mistake of externalising my fast to include greater levels of transparency and honesty in the gold trade. By the end of this fast the Christian company I was working with had defaulted on a project in Sierra Leone, been exposed as deceitful in intent, spiritually manipulative in saying because this was in the name of the Kingdom it was ok not to pay bills and left my household without an income for most of the year. This month I discover they have gone down for $2.8 million, leaving thousands without hope in the DRC and elsewhere in Africa. God honoured my fast last year, and I was totally unprepared for the consequences. A salient lesson in be careful what you ask for.

Fasting I have found creates the space both internally and externally for God to move more freely. It creates an environment of light in our lives that reveals the content of who we are and what surrounds us and hopefully will move us in such a way that as we emerge on the other side, we are more conscious of our need of grace so we may not only dream of truth, but may find the will to live with it.

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A Regular Spiritual Heartbeat.

Posted on November 13, 2011 | 1 Comment

St Columbanus referred to life as ‘the great peregrinatio‘, yet what strikes me as so powerful about the Celtic saints, such as Columbanus, was that their story was not just about extraordinary travels and exploits and their mastery of the seas and the mountains, but also their rigorous personal spiritual disciplines that measured the quality of the internal journey. This axis of internal and external journey, although in no way unique to Celtic Spirituality, did manifest itself in a quite remarkable fashion through those who were indigenous to the British Isles.

In my personal journey with and towards Christ, this very axis has become the biggest point of contention and opportunity in my walk with God. There is no doubt in my mind that the current state of Christianity in the British Isles is out of sync with the heartbeat of God. The heart of the British church is beating certainly, but not in its natural rhythm. I also recognise that in my own life I suffer from an irregular spiritual heartbeat, my condition a perplexing mix of my own shortcomings as a person and the pollution that exists in the atmosphere around me. How does a fish define water?

With so little attention paid in modern life to the internal journey, the feeding of the soul and the formation of Christ in the internal world has become a priority for me. The words of St Paul, ‘I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate’ (Romans vii, 16) has taken on new meaning as I explore the question ‘what is a regular healthy spiritual heartbeat?’

This question disturbs me as I find myself engaging in a process of ‘apophatic thinking‘, or ‘negative thinking’ to find my way forward. I know what I do not want to do, I know how I do not want to behave, I know what in society I do not like, yet I remain at the mercy of the very atmosphere I despise. I know for example that the pervasive religion of ‘material capitalism’ impregnates every aspect of our lives and its destructive and ungodly forces shape our behaviour and are being felt across the world, creating untold misery for millions on every continent, yet I also know I am not free of the disease and the problem is internal as well as external. Therefore Christs’ salvation in my life is incomplete.

It is to the Celtic saints and their spiritual practices, I find myself turning more and more as I seek a daily rhythm, perhaps cure is a better word, for my liberation. More specifically to the Rule of Columba, and an exploration of his contemporary meaning and application. This is for me no mere intellectual exercise. If it was I would have failed at the first hurdle on the journey, as intellectual rationalism and the disconnect it creates between thought and practice is one of the very foundation stones of the amorality that exists within the very fabric of our society.

The ascetic disciplines and practices of the Celts are very foreign to our modern culture, yet I believe they offer us a route towards a new future. The current rise of ‘post-modern monastic’ expressions of lifestyle and community give testimony to the fact that the ancient ways are no longer ancient, but are in fact timeless and eternal and are attempting to find a way of breaking into our prison cells of individualism and materialism and setting us free.

Having settled in the indigenous British spirituality of the Celtic Church, I discover a vast panorama of potential right outside my doorstep and the challenge before me now is to allow The Holy Trinity – the perfect community – to harness me to that potential and help me move away from ‘negative thinking’ towards positive practice.

The Columban rule outlines a daily rhythm of ‘prayers, work and reading’ (rule 15), of ‘regular vigils from eve to eve’ (rule 14), offers direction on silence and solitude (rules 1, 5, 21), in fact covers a multitude of disciplines that engage not only the internal world of devotion and intimacy with Christ, but also the external world of ‘alms giving & work’ (rule 18 & 16) and how in simple ways to interact with others (rules 5, 6, 21). In the few years I have been working with this rule I have found its true wisdom rests in its power to re-orientate the inner life in a direction that is contrary to the course of the world. It echoes St Paul again when he cries;

all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is the very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are Children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ (Romans viii, 14-17a)

These rules act as guide to lifestyle and behaviour that in turn assist in attuning me to the course of the flow of the Spirit in life. Rather like a river that flows through the landscape of our lives. If the virtue of following an external rule is building those rules into your life and this very act in turn builds discipline that brings stillness and receptivity to the presence of God, then the building of the river banks is a sacred pursuit. On reflection the only form that the Spirit of Christ desires to dwell in and upon is the natural one that was created by God in the first place. The skin I am in and the land I walk on is the only home I have that God can dwell in naturally so I must become the vessel we journey together in.

What I am enjoying about the exploration of the Rule of Columba, is it takes place in the land from which it was born. In this world of homogenous global culture, of which Britain, as a historical empire and an eminent financial and military power has helped to shape, I am rediscovering the indigenous Spirit of the Creator in the beauty of this land that is being liberated into a new and emerging story. I know it to be a story that began with the ‘believing diaspora’ who fled the Roman Caesar’s persecution of the ‘followers of the way’  as they landed on these shores seeking safety. A story that blended and filled out the native culture that in the words of the Welsh bard Taliessin ‘we always new Christ as Creator, but never knew his name’.

It will again be a story that in the pagan barbarianism of unfettered materialism that is now the dominant culture, can find its voice, a discipline and a power to connect the Christ of all creation ‘to all who would receive him‘ (John i, v12).

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The Rule of Columba – Rule 2 – and the Evangelists.

Posted on July 9, 2010 | Leave a comment

In this series of short reflections on the Rule of Columba my aim is to explore the wisdom of Columba’s life in Christ and creation and to seek to apply this ancient rule, this daily walk to my own personal exploration of the life of the Spirit. In doing so I hope that in some way the principles of the Columban rule can find a newer expression and vitality in the modern era.

Rule 2.

What has continually amazed me the most as I have attempted to understand and practice the rule of Columba has been the natural balance that continually emerges. Not a balance as one would immediately assume between two polarities, but more a movement of harmony amongst a community of relationships. Although I have come to view this as a naturally Trinitarian movement, it has not impacted my life as a reflection on a theological doctrine. It has been more an encounter between creation – creator – my own humanity. An emergent conversation between the three of us as we walk together as experienced in my own life.

“and the evangelists’ draws me out of myself, draws me to focus not just on my relationship with Christ, but links me into world of spirituality that is almost lost to us in the western tradition. Namely that of the embrace of the heavenly host and the company of saints. I am confident that Columba is pushing me to focus on the practice of following through identifying with others.

The evangelists (or apostles) where men and women who gave their all and in most cases their very lives because of this great encounter with Jesus.

  • Andrew: Martyrdom by crucifixion (bound, not nailed, to a cross).
  • Bartholomew (Often identified with Nathaniel in the New Testament): Martyrdom by being either 1. Beheaded, or 2. Flayed alive and crucified, head downward.
  • James the Greater: Martyrdom by being beheaded or stabbed with a sword.
  • James the Lesser: Martyrdom by being thrown from a pinnacle of the Temple at Jerusalem , then stoned and beaten with clubs.
  • John: Died of old age.
  • Jude (Often identified with Thaddeus in the New Testament): Martyrdom by being beaten to death with a club.
  • Judas: Suicide.
  • Matthew: Martyrdom by being burned, stoned, or beheaded.
  • Peter: Martyrdom by crucifixion at Rome with his head downwards.
  • Philip: Martyrdom.
  • Simon: Martyrdom by crucifixion  or being sawn in half.
  • Thomas: Martyrdom by being stabbed with a spear.

The evangelists if embraced as living people, resurrected and eternally in the presence of the Father become an example of ‘how to follow Christ’. Naturally a short blog piece cannot explore this huge idea in detail yet for me their witness has come to mean the following;

  • They all received a call to follow Christ to the exclusion of everything else.
  • Their allegiance was to Christ even to the point of death – except for a few of the early witnesses like Mary and John.
  • They dedicated themselves to prayer, fasting, teaching and witnessing to the resurrection of Jesus.
  • They all (with the odd exception) took the gospel message beyond the shores of their native land.

The journey of the inner life is not an abdication of responsibility to the world around us, rather it is the purity of purpose and quality of this engagement that is constantly called into question. This purification of purpose and focus is the great challenge. The early followers of Jesus gave of themselves to their last breath. Columba and the men and women like him gave their lives to exile for Christ, to prayer, fasting and teaching and in every way they could, in  order to imitate the evangelists in the quality of their dedication to Christ, given that ‘red martyrdom’ as the Celts called it, was not likely given the embrace that the British islands gave to the gospel.

Again I note that the call to imitate Christ and the Evangelists is rooted in a relational way, not primarily in concepts or intellectual ideas.

Finally and with great relief to me, the imitation of the evangelists became for me the opportunity to understand my own failings, as all the evangelists were to some degree or another failures at critical moments in their lives. It is almost as if this failure, most notably their abandonment of Jesus in Gethsemane and their subsequent restoration through the witness of the resurrection and the breath of the Holy Spirit gave them the moral courage to eventually face the ultimate test of martyrdom. John records in one of his letters that ‘if we say we have not sinned, then we make him a liar and his word is not in us’(1 John 1 v10).

I am glad that the naked imitation of Christ and the Evangelists means I can fail, it takes the pressure off the next step.

Sources.

http://www.apostles.com/apostlesdied.html

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The Rule of Columba – Rule 2 – Be naked in your imitation of Christ.

Posted on June 13, 2010 | Leave a comment

In this series of short reflections on the Rule of Columba my aim is to explore the wisdom of Columba’s life in Christ and creation and to seek to apply this ancient rule, this daily walk to my own personal exploration of the life of the Spirit. In doing so I hope that in some way the principles of the Columban rule can find a newer expression and vitality in the modern era.

Rule 2.

Quite a number of years ago I came to an obvious realisation that it is was not enough to believe in Jesus, but I needed to believe in the things that Jesus believed in. I am sure for many people this is a rather obvious statement, but for me it was an important moment. It altered the course of my journey from becoming a word based person, where my relationship with God was defined by the levels of information I took in and what I could regurgitate through intellectual discourse, to a person who was intentionally seeking to understand what Jesus believed in and then trying to outwork that in my life. To be honest I am not convinced I have done a particularly good job of this, but the shift in my way of viewing the life of the Spirit was subtle yet profound for me. It led me to a series of changes that although turbulent at the time, I am now glad I took.

The first was moving away from evangelicalism, not an outright rejection of it. Evangelicalism became for me an interesting form of understanding The Trinity that seemed to be more about Father Son and Holy Bible than a honest encounter with the Triune God. In my simplistic world I could not reconcile the Scriptures claims that Jesus is the Word of God, as John so eloquently writes in the first chapter of his Gospel and the preachers claims that the Bible is the word of God. Are there two words? Is the bible Jesus? Is Jesus a book? Have we reduced Jesus down to a book? The questions however naive were very real to me and I plumped for Jesus being the eternal word and the Scriptures helping me to understand this.

Secondly it caused me to engage the plight of the poor and the Spirits’ cry for justice in the earth as a vocational calling. Justice stopped being the outworking of a law prescribed by God for all people to follow and to be punished if disobeyed, rather it became a doorway through which I could draw close to God and be embraced by the Spirit of Justice. Justice does of course transcend law as God is just and to pursue justice is to pursue God as Gods’ moral characteristic is justice. God can be nothing other than morally consistent and as the creator this moral consistency is what I have come to understand as justice.

Thirdly it caused me to reflect and to try to act upon this idea of Imitating Christ. Not easy and perhaps why Columba links the naked imitation of Christ with the evangelists as well, but more of that in a later post. Once again I found the inner journey more telling than the external one. Yet as with all things in the Divine the internal always has an external outworking. Nakedness is not a theological idea, it is a word that captures heart, spirit and compunction. It is a state of being. Naturally the practice of literal nakedness in the British climate would be an act of ridiculous stupidity and would mean death by exposure and certainly not a pleasant sight in the eye of the beholder. It became for me and what I believe to be the true intent of the rule, an idea of spiritual intent.

Nakedness is raw intimacy -  the sense of the immediate, the truly close, beyond the individual. Nakedness in relationship to Christ is a place of total vulnerability and exposure to the power of the Trinity. As I reflected on it, it became not only that child like state of natural innocence and uninhibited freedom, it also became that mature condition in adulthood of passion, climax and connectedness. So many of the relationships recorded in Scripture and mystical history have attempted to capture this full exposure to the immanent and invasive presence of God. Perhaps the pinnacle of this is the Song of Songs; a rich erotic love poem exposing the disarming power of love, the passionate sexual desire it calls out, the physically disabling nature of this when lost and the prudent reminder to everyone to beware arousing this condition if it cannot be fully satisfied.

I began to understand why Columba would order his rule for living in such a way as to ensure the follower of Jesus had secured their location and space to be ‘alone and separate’ first, before engaging in the pursuit of naked imitation of Christ. Once you open your soul to the surging motion of Gods’ creative passion and love, you must be in the place to fully immerse yourself in the relationship without distraction, as there is nothing that can compare to this exposure to the Divine fire and love. The naked imitation of Christ starts with the naked exposure that mirrors the Son with the Father. Alone and withdrawn on the mountain of prayer. Not the liturgical prayer of religious obedience, rather the open, vulnerable, relational union that fulled the core of Jesus and created within the Son of Man the humanity the world finds so divinely attractive.

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The Rule of Columba – Rule 1 – ‘if your conscience is not prepared to be in common with the crowd’

Posted on May 27, 2010 | Leave a comment

In this series of short reflections on the Rule of Columba my aim is to explore the wisdom of Columba’s life in Christ and creation and to seek to apply this ancient rule, this daily walk to my own personal exploration of the life of the Spirit. In doing so I hope that in some way the principles of the Columban rule can find a newer expression and vitality in the modern era.

Rule 1.

BE ALONE IN A SEPARATE PLACE NEAR A CHIEF CITY , IF YOUR CONSCIENCE IS NOT PREPARED TO BE IN COMMON WITH THE CROWD.

Crowds don’t have individuality, they are collections of individuals who loose their individuality. They can become a swath of non-personalities who adopt a corporate identity that leads to conformity. Joining a crowd is a matter of conscience, it is a statement that you are prepared to sacrifice some of your uniqueness to blend into a more mainstream existence. Perhaps it is around this compromise that the conscience plays it true part. Some are clearly called to be involved in the mainstream, yet it should be treated as a matter of exception and conscience rather than as the normal Christian experience.

In recent years I was involved with founding an organisation that works with small scale miners. As it became more successful it began to develop traits of institutionalisation. Its culture became one of conformity and the expectations of its members increasingly insisted on conformity rather than diversity. Conforming to process, to language, rules to govern freedom to speech, clauses inserted into contracts to control freedom of association and many other practices, all in the name of protecting the organisation. I found myself moving from being at the centre to the margins of the group because I was not comfortable with conforming with the unwritten rules that emerged. My conscience was unable to accept the being in common with the new crowd. It was time to leave.

In many respects my experience with the small scale miners group was similar to experiences I have had in certain church groups. The simple idea that our way, our interpretation of events, doctrine and behaviour are correct and therefore must be conformed to is prevalent in a Church that is battered and bruised by the massive cultural movements in our world. It seems it is trying to define its existence through conformity to belief and cultural practice. Conformity manifests itself around a centre, this centre can be a practice like the use of contraception, or it can be a doctrine like a particular view of the atonement or capitalism. These ideas and practices set themselves up and insist that others do as they do, or believe as they believe. I can think of no more obvious ideology in the modern world to illustrate this than the charging of interest on loans. Clearly there is no biblical precedent for this behaviour, yet everyone who confesses Christ in the west, including myself, compromises on this point.

In essence the crowd will always require conformity that leads to the follower of Christ having to make a choice. Will I compromise or won’t I.

‘Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but through the renewing of your mind be conformed to the pattern of Christ’. I think Paul understood the hard choices that the world thrusts upon us and the pressures we come under to conform to patterns of behaviour that are counter intuitive to the radical freedom’s that are inherent in the gospel message.

It is to this issue that Columba so eloquently speaks when he talks about separateness, aloneness and being a part of the crowd. The intentional separateness that we are called to embrace does not only have a mystical inner impact on our relationship with God through the creating of the space for us to conform to the pattern of Christ. It also has a social and cultural impact as well. By not being in common with the crowd we reduce the power of ungodly ideologies by the power of 1. As others follow suit so the overall impact of the crowd is reduced even further. Naturally the danger here is that as we move out of a centre, another centre is formed, in effect creating the very same problem we have just spoken about. By staying in the aloneness with God, helps put the breaks on this happening. Christ is the centre and our practice, our naked imitation, is shaped in the place of solitude first.

For many the pressure to conform is so strong its leads to a breakdown in their faith, disillusionment with the Church, hatred for Godly authority and a crisis in their own identity. Yet it is precisely this non-conformity and commitment to being free that defined the early British church. Their non-conformity to the centralised Roman church practice and doctrine is what made them so dangerous in the minds of their detractors. It is precisely this non-conformity that is so dynamic in the rule of Columba and in my opinion has contributed to the continual festering non-conformist nature of the British church and its people. Christ is the safe haven for the non-conformist in an age of bland cultural obedience. Where space to find freedom is at a premium, being alone in a separate place with God is the harbour of our souls individuality and the greenhouse of its growth. Christ and Columba give us permission, in fact call us to come out of the mainstream and find our identity in the margins of solitude with the Trinity.

It is ok to be different, its ok not to fit in, it is often the first step on the journey to maturity with God.

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The Rule of Columba – Rule 1 – ‘Be alone in a separate place’.

Posted on May 1, 2010 | Leave a comment

In this series of short reflections on the Rule of Columba my aim is to explore the wisdom of Columba’s life in Christ and creation and to seek to apply this ancient rule, to my own personal exploration of the life of the Spirit. In doing so I hope that in some way the wisdom of Columba’s rule can find a newer expression and vitality in the modern era.

Rule 1.

BE ALONE IN A SEPARATE PLACE NEAR A CHIEF CITY, IF YOUR CONSCIENCE IS NOT PREPARED TO BE IN COMMON WITH THE CROWD.

There can be no doubt that the Celtic Saints knew how to choose a location. Aidan’s Lindisfarne, Cuthbert’s Inner Farne, Kevin’s Glendalough, the disciples of Dicuil’s Bosham or Columba’s Iona are places that are inhabited by a true sense of the wild, the wonderful, the dramatic and the intensely beautiful. They were on the very edge of where humanity at the time could exist. The sensory overload you experience when standing in such locations is truly majestic. A view through history captured in the landscape of the Divine. I have always been struck by what overwhelming instinct would drive ordinary men or women to abandon the shelter of their homes and warmth of their partners beds to journey to the ends of the known world and live out a sparse and meagre existence, as in the case of Fionan, who on the wild and exposed rock of Skellig Michael fell into the arms of the wild Atlantic and its Creator.

Sunset over the Farne Islands

What was striking to me as I began to read Columba’s rule was that he placed the location of the encounter with Christ before the ‘naked imitation of Christ’. The more I reflected upon the location of my encounter with The Trinity, the more I began to understand the simple logic in this, as well as the profound impact that such a step could have in my own life.

Alone and separate did not mean lonely and isolated. There can be no doubt that to embrace the idea of being alone, can be a terrifying experience for many people. Walking away from the noise and bustle of modern society and the sense of self-importance derived from eating at this table, is an intentional step that is extremely counter intuitive in society and conventional church culture.

Daily life and activity is intent on bombarding ones senses with images, noises and activities that in the final analysis are questionable regarding the value and legacy they impress upon ones eternal reality. To intentionally remove ones self from this narrative of society became a bold step away from feeding my ego. Given that our world seems to be about the communication of fear and/or desire over love and justice this may not be such an unwise move. It is fascinating to reflect upon the crude nature of advertising as an example. It would appear its three primary drivers are;

  • Desire to possess what we do not have or need,
  • Fear of what may happen to us through what we cannot see or control,
  • Ownership of the product that will satisfy the desire or alleviate the fear.

All this gives us the illusion of being in control over the natural order and the domesticating of the world around us.

Being separate and alone moves me to a place where I have to live with my own inner turmoil, conversations, fears and desires without the ‘soma‘ of modern living to drown out the voice of my true self. Yet finding that place is not easy. For Columba and his many followers this was the first step. Find your space, find your location, find your stillness, find your place where you can be alone with the Trinity.

It then seems that location becomes more than just a place of personal stillness and prayer, it becomes an external manifestation of the relationship with Christ. A place that  embodies the dynamism, drama and breadth of the encounter of the living Christ as this extract from Columcille Fecit beautifully illustrates,

‘Delightful would it be to me to be in Uchd Ailiun

On the pinnacle of a rock,

That I might often see

The face of the ocean;

That I might see its heaving waves

Over the wide ocean,

When they chant music to their Father

Upon the world’s course;’

Naturally this practice can take on many shapes and forms. It can be a location, it can be a meditative state that opens one up to the eternal presence, it can be a image that triggers humility. Yielding to the ‘aloneness’ of self, ushers in the face of Christ in whom we encounter our true identity. It is here we are discovered and discover that we are never alone.

The opening phrase of the Rule of Columba began to capture for me the true kernel of what the indigenous Christian spirituality of the British Isles was all about. The yearning for intimacy with Christ  is the total abandonment of self to love and passion can only be experienced through naked intimacy (one cannot be intimate in public after all, as society and institutionalised religions, classes that as indecent).

Yet this aloneness and the richness that flows from it is set in an eternal location. The inner journey is captured in the outer landscape. That landscape needed to be discovered and needed to be remote, wild, exposed and inhabited by His and my presence alone. It seems to me that human beings are the only creatures on earth who intentionally build shelters for themselves to escape the power and rawness of creation, domesticate their surrounding landscape, call it normal and expect everything else to conform to this behaviour.

Yet in the world of God’s Spirit intimacy means naked exposure,

‘as deep calls to deep, in your rushing waters:

and all your torrents, all your waves have flowed over me’.

The psalmist could only capture the depth of God’s presence in the language and experience of being overpowered by the nature of water.

Columba understood that aloneness meant ‘togetherness without distraction’ and that the created order was the bed upon which we lay down with the Godhead. As I am enfolded in the dynamic personality of the Spirit, the immanence of Gods-self in the wonder and beauty of the created order allows me to be my natural self.

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