A Stay at Iona

I hurry past by St. Martin’s Cross, a fourteen-foot Celtic cross carved from a single slab and standing sentinel since the 9th Century, on my way into the sanctuary of the Iona Abbey. Fellow pilgrims are already waiting mutely in contemplation and from somewhere unseen a flute’s melody is calling us, the sheep outside, and possibly all creatures to pause before their Maker. I slip into an open seat in the choir stalls and open my ritual book to the morning praise. It is time to worship, but there is no rush. Indeed, that is the unspoken message of this place, this hallowed island. The rounded rocks along the shore during my morning walk had even glinted the message, “there is time enough for all things.”

The journey here attempted to prepare me for this. A nine-hour flight from the states, crossing from Edinburgh on the trains, waiting for the ferries, and the excruciatingly long bus ride across the desolate island of Mull on a one lane road, together uniformly declared that time was no longer master of all. Fellow travelers and I crossed to Iona on the Fionnphort ferry at dusk and walked the final mile to the cloisters of 15th century monastery. There we were welcomed with warm soup, the chatter of pilgrims meeting one another, and finally, the stability of evening prayers.

Perhaps that quality was already there when St. Columba arrived from Ireland in 563 CE. After all, the marble from the abandoned quarry on the south end of the island has been carbon dated at 2 billion years, a vast difference from the 290 million year old rocks just across the strait. Columba and his followers established a monastic life together, giving the hours of the day to God in prayer, work, and reading and copying the scriptures. From that base, they carried the gospel of Christ to the mainland and onto the continent. In response, pilgrims came. Chieftains and kings came. Bishops and commoners came. They came to meet God in this thin place.

I had come for the same reason. On a month’s sabbatical from my church, I wanted to delve into my Scotch-Irish heritage and the Celtic way of faith. Yet my journal from those first days at Iona reads, “the excitement of exploration and discovery is not what I am seeking, but a better sense of peace, wholeness, and companionship with God.” A stay at Iona offers that, without forcing it.

The members of the Iona Community welcome you into their paced life. There is time enough for worship, for meals in common, for assigned chores, for solitude, for sharing, and for enjoying the beautiful landscape. I was surprised how “at home” I felt in a strange place and with a different pattern to the day. But in giving myself over to the communal life, I began to experience the rhythm of abundant time. Breathe in; breathe out. Trust God, and let go. The tide goes out, and the tide comes in. Worship flows out into the world, and gathers into the sanctuary. Trust God, and let go.

Iona is an experience as much as it is a destination. You can find out more about the Iona Community at www.iona.org.uk. Their liturgy and music is published by Wild Goose Publications (www.ionabooks.com) and it’s worth a look. But for a taste of the Iona timelessness near to God, make the pilgrimage.