Iona

In January 1992 I found myself setting out from London for the lengthy journey via Glasgow and Oban to the Isle of Iona, off the coast of Mull in the Inner Hebrides.

The exiled Irish monk St Columba established a monastic community on this isolated rock in the 6th century, a thriving centre which passed through phases of Irish and Benedictine monasticism before passing into the hands of the Bishop of the Isles by the 16th century. This spiritual centre, reputed to be the burial place of Scottish kings (including Macbeth), then fell into disuse, and the island became home to a simple crofting and kelp gathering community belonging to the Dukes of Argyll. (1)

Under normal circumstances the island would be an attraction for anyone interested in history, especially the spread of christianity in northern Britain. Aside from the Abbey and fine cathedral (the Abbey church) there is a ruined nunnery, a number of pre-christian archaeological sites (including the remains of a small hill fort), some fine crosses, and even a full scale late Victorian/Edwardian steam powered marble quarry, abandoned in situ at the start of WWI. (2)

My primary purpose for going to Iona, however, was to live and work for a time with the lay christian community which now occupies the ancient restored Abbey, and maybe to answer for myself questions such as; how much did this modern lay, "alternative", ecumenical community draw upon the traditions and spirit of the monks who preceded it centuries before? I was drawn by a curiosity about the lifestyle and work of the Community, an interest in Celtic monasticism and modern lay communities, a curiosity about the "creation spirituality" movement which draws much inspiration from the early Irish monks. And, I suppose, a desire to get away from the rat race of London, to be reminded that it is possible to live in other ways and by other priorities.

The original community founded by Columba was a creation of tragedy and hardship, born of Columba's exile from his homeland due to a petty feud. Out of this came a monastic establishment which influenced the evangelisation of northern Britain, and may have produced great works of art such as the Book of Kells.

The present day restored Abbey, run by the Iona Community, was born of the Great Depression and the vision of Rev George MacLeod (later Lord MacLeod of Fuinary), a Church of Scotland minister who saw restoring the ruined Abbey as an activity to help break down the barriers between work, politics and prayer, between unemployed craftsmen and seminary students. The restoration work, completed in 1965, is of the ruins of the Benedictine monastery, built on the site of the earlier establishment of Columba, and in many ways owes something more to imagination than to strict accuracy.

At first glance Iona is a bare and windswept island, miles from anywhere. It nevertheless possesses a great natural beauty, enhanced by the clear surrounding sea, colourful sandy beaches and mysterious rocky coves. It has a quality of remoteness about it even in this day and age such that, 10 minutes walk from the village towards the centre of the island one can feel hundreds of miles from anywhere. Walking on Iona is not easy on a soggy, windy winter's day. Although a relatively small island, three miles long by one mile wide, it covers some very different territory; inhospitable moors, rocky hilltops, peaceful glens and fields, beautiful beaches. The rugged beauty and sense of isolation must have appealed to Columba, and provide a very appropriate setting for the modern visitor to seek new perspectives away from an artificial modern world. It also provides an ideal spiritual home and anchor for the Iona Community, most of whose members are to be found living and working in the heart of urban society throughout Scotland and around the world. Their commitment to help the poor and the exploited, to work for justice and peace, are central to their existence, while seeming a world away from the island of Iona itself.

The influence of Celtic Christianity upon the spirituality of the community is clear to see. "Celtic spirituality" has become a buzz word in certain strands of christianity over recent years, and the 'creation spirituality' movement has drawn much on what it perceives to be Celtic. In the Iona community one feels that the Celtic influence is a natural and positive one, not simply an attachment to things romantic or alternative. With it's attention to and respect for the sights and sounds of nature, its awareness of and search for the reflection of God in surrounding creation, the celtic influence is found in the prayers and liturgy, in the art and music of the community, and in such a place as Iona it does not appear affected. It feels very much to be something which has grown from and belongs to the island, and the people who have lived there over the centuries.

The past is all around us. We are the inheritors of the Celtic tradition, with its deep sense of Jesus as the head of all, and of God's glory in all of creation. So we use prayers from the Celtic Church for welcome, for work, and in expressing the needs of the world. We are the inheritors of the Benedictine tradition, with its conviction that 'to work is to pray', its commitment to hospitality, and its sense of order, all reflected in our services and our lifestyle...(3)

The Reverend George MacLeod, founder of the Iona Community and rebuilder of the Abbey, said that Iona was a very thin place, that there was very little separating the material world from the spiritual world. It is a perception which comes easily when standing on a bare piece of moor looking out to sea, or walking along beaches sprinkled with multi-coloured stones, or sitting by an open fire with the wind and rain howling outside. There is a sense that centuries of prayer and spiritual life have seeped into the rocks and soil, as indeed the spiritual life owed much of its own identity to the island in which it grew. Certainly the striking physical character of the island brings the individual face to face with the natural world, and with vestiges of ancient crofting and monastic ways of life rarely to be found in the outside world.

For most of the year members of the community at the Abbey are busy providing hospitality and running sessions for the many guests who come for a variety of retreat programmes which are run from week to week. In the winter these programmes are suspended, and the small resident group form a compact community of their own, living, working, eating and praying together just as their monastic predecessors did. This quiet period is an opportunity to recharge the batteries, to plan the year ahead and to sort out spiritual and personal priorities. As a volunteer in January it was this aspect of life at the Abbey which I shared, and which perhaps resembled an enclosed monastic atmosphere more than it does in summer, when the island and Abbey are full of guests and day tourists. The residents settle into a pattern of prayer, work and meals together. When the nights close in and the wind comes up, inhabitants of an isolated island find themselves thrown back on their own forms of entertainment, opening up creative outlets in painting, singing, storytelling, and writing.

How much then does this have to do with 'creation spirituality', indeed, what is creation spirituality? Mathew Fox describes creation centered spirituality (as distinct from anthropocentric spirituality) as

an ancient tradition . . . the basic spiritual heritage of native peoples everywhere, the Celtic peoples of Ireland, Scotland and Wales, and the Rhineland in Germany and the native peoples of Africa and Asia, of the Polynesian islands and New Zealand, or of the Aboriginals of Australia. All these peoples had cosmology as the basis of their worship, prayer, economics, politics and morality. All of them honoured the artist in all persons. All expected the divine to burst out of anyplace at anytime. To see the world in this way is to be creation centered. (4)

Fox is a former Dominican monk from the United States who has written several books tracing the ancient creation centered strands of western christianity, and linking them with similar world views in other cultures. There is a danger that such an approach can lead to a simplistic idealisation of native spirituality, leading to a shift of people from conventional religious practice to what are perceived as more worthy and newly rediscovered "traditional" forms of spirituality. I don't believe that the Iona Community falls into this trap, but rather draws on the Celtic tradition as a foundation for their expression of the christian life. It is not surprising that, taking the same view of God, the same gospel, and the same surroundings, they should find sympathy with the spirituality of the early Celtic christians. It is not kept as a stale and dry museum-piece of tradition on Iona, but as a basis for continuing to try to express the link between God, humankind and nature.

Consequently the prayers and liturgy produced by the Iona Community have much in common with those of the early celtic church. Compare for example the following two pieces, the first an Irish work of the 12th century on the theme of St Columba's own hermitage on Iona, and the second a short prayer from the Iona Community:

Delightful I think it to be in the bosom of an isle, on the peak of a rock,
that I might often see there the calm of the sea.

That I might see its heavy waves over the glittering ocean,
as they chant a melody to their Father on their eternal course.

That I might see its smooth strand of clear headlands, no gloomy thing;
that I might hear the voice of the wondrous birds, a joyful tune.

That I might hear the sound of the shallow waves against the rocks;
that I might hear the cry by the graveyard, the noise of the sea.

That I might see its splendid flocks of birds over the full-watered ocean;
that I might see its mighty whales, greatest of wonders.

That I might see its ebb and its flood-tide in their flow . . .

That contrition of heart should come upon me as I watch it; that
I might bewail my many sins, difficult to declare. (5)

 

Deep peace of the Running Wave to you.

 Deep peace of the Flowing Air to you.

 Deep peace of the Quiet Earth to you.

 Deep peace of the Shining Stars to you.

 Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you. (6)

 Anyone who has been to Iona can appreciate the sentiments, and the common inspiration, expressed in these two pieces.

 I would argue that this appreciation of the natural world is not simply escapism, as the modern community of Iona is outward looking and concerned with work beyond the island's shores, just as (by its work of education and evangelism) had been the earlier celtic monks. Even by virtue of the number of people who come throughout the year to sample life in the Abbey for a week, Iona is having an impact on the world outside.

The Iona community does not exist in a vacuum. Since World War Two there has been a growth of new communities throughout Europe. Corrymeela is one such in Northern Ireland which aims to provide a place of peace and healing for the Catholics and Protestants of that country, not so far from Iona across the water. Taize, nestled among the hills of Burgundy in France, was founded 50 years ago as a new and ecumenical monastic community working towards being a sign of reconciliation and hope in a war-torn continent. It is significant that Taize‚ also has an ancient monastic connection, as it is just 10 km from the great medieval monastery of Cluny, and like the modern Iona community was originally founded by people from the protestant tradition. These communities, and others like them, all have their own ways of living and expressing their ideals. They were founded for various reasons, to meet perceived needs which differ from place to place, and each has unique influences upon it. The Iona Community, and its establishment on Iona itself, draws from the celtic traditions of Irish and Scottish monasticism to define its own identity and provide a framework for developing a spirituality which is arguably still relevant today.

It is fitting to let the old Scots have the final word on Iona;

An I mo chridhe, I mo ghràidh,

 Anàite guth mhanach bidh geum bhà

 Ach mu'n tig an savghal gu crìch,

 Bithidh I mar a bha.

In Iona of my heart, Iona of my love,

 Instead of monk's voice shall be lowing of cows;

 But ere the world shall come to an end,

 Iona shall be as it was.

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This article first appeared in The Australian Celtic Journal, Volume 4, 1993.

(1) For a brief historical and archaeological overview see Iona, J G Dunbar and I Fisher, HMSO, 1988.
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(2) For detailed archaeological coverage see Inventory of Iona, Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland, Volume 4, HMSO Edinburgh, 1982. For the marble quarry see The Iona Marble Quarry, D J Viner, Iona Community, 1979, which was reprinted from the Industrial Archaeology Review, Vol 1 num 1.
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(3) The Iona Community Worship Book, Wild Goose Publications, Glasgow, 1991
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(4) Mathew Fox, Creation Spirituality, Harper Collins, 1991, pp 13f
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(5) K H Jackson, A Celtic Miscellany, Penguin, 1971, p279.
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(6) The Iona Community, found on various cards and other publications.
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