Father Patrick at Glendalough

I wanted to make a few reflections before I depart for dinner and an evening at the Merry Plowboy traditional Irish music pub

(which I know I will love you for the dancing and the music.)

Still, today felt like another sacred day as we met for early morning prayer and then went to the visitor center to hear a video presentation on Glendalough.  Then we were so blessed to have Father Patrick Murphy from the Tearmann Spirituality Center give us a tour of the monastic city.  He led us quietly through the old remains of the medieval monastery highlighting St. Kevin and St. Ciernan.  He then took us on a guided spiritual walk along the green rode, stopping to remind us to turn off our cell phones and put our cameras away. 

He encouraged us to walk as the ancient Celts would have done.  Like the sisters at the Saint Bridget center, he spoke of man’s damage to the earth and overconsumption.  Greed.  Need for solitude and reflection in our lives.  It resonated with each of us because we’re all guilty of wanting and using more than we need. 

He stopped along the way and offered poems and prayers from Scripture, Psalms... he recited  poems from Irish authors...  providing history as well as spiritual insights. 

I wanted to remember each word he said as I reenter my busy life on Friday.  

At the little lake, he asked us to reflect on past hurts in our lives and to go down to the water and with our hands reach down and lift up some water and let it fall back down ... along with all our worries, regrets, hurts. 

One by one, when we were ready... we followed his advice and went down to the waters edge in silence. 

We then walked briskly along the green trail approaching the second larger lake where we made a detour to a small sacred ruin where It is believed that Saint Kevin was buried.  

We had another reflection there read by Deb.  We then walked on to the other side of the lake where we could see some ancient ruins where it is thought the original monastery might’ve been built.

Saint Kevin’s cave/cell is there where he took refuge and lived as the ascetic missionary he was.  

The rain clouds opened and rained on us as we walked back to our hotel.

I was grateful for a couple of hours to stay in my room, relax, and reflect on the messages that Father Patrick gave us. It was another beautiful, beautiful day.

It is a little bit of a strange juxtaposition to be out walking where the Saints walked in their monastery days, where they lived frugally and simply and then to return to a beautiful hotel with beautiful meals.  it is a little bit jarring. 

The day of Bridit

Each day, I wonder how this day can be better than the last... and without fail, I crash in my room at night filled with gratitude for the places I’ve gone, the things I have seen, felt, experienced...

Today we left the Boyne Valley north of Dublin and headed south to Glendalough. As usual, we had morning prayers and a song on the bus... and traveled to St. Brigid’s cathedral in Kildare.  St. Brigid is the second most revered saint in Ireland, only second to Patrick.  She is known for having ties to a pre-Christian goddess and was known for her care of the earth, her generosity and care for the poor.  As Christianity came to Ireland, her goddess characteristics were reflected in her as a Saint. She founded many monasteries and one old Irish manuscript records her as being anointed as Bishop.  Fascinating story from oral tradition passed down through the ages.

We then went to the Solas Bhride, an ecumenical center dedicated to the spirit and of St. Brigid and Celtic spirituality. The Brigidine Sisters welcomed us and we had a beautiful Sunday service with them, with our fellow pilgrim Leslie from Australia presiding, our Episcopal deacon Jackie attending and our Lutheran priest doing the reading, and our another pilgrim doing the homily.  The liturgy was adopted by our leader Teresa from Celtic services at Iona. It was beautiful.  Teresa shared the Mary Blair was celebrating along with us.  Beautiful connection!

We then had lunch in the Center and then traveled to the site of St. Brigid’s holy well.  After brief reflections by the Sisters, we left feeling renewed.

A brief stop at the Wicklow Gap took us for a brief walk down the site of the original pilgrim trail and then on yo Glendalough.  We will be here for four nights before we head for home. Amazing day!

Sunday sun day morning...

Lord, I will trust you, help me in my journey beyond the familiar and into the unknown. Give me faith to leave the old ways and break fresh ground with you. Amen. (From our pilgrimage prayer book)

This morning, in my room after breakfast, and preparing for a very busy day to Glendalough, Saint Bridgets Cathedral, Saint Bridgets well and Saint Kevins way.  One of our pilgrims was formally a Catholic priest and is now very involved in his Episcopal Church at Whidby Island.  He will be doing his sermon today as we worship along the way.

Today I reflected back on a book of prayers that Greg Geare had given me when I was in high school.   It is the work of a French Catholic priest and it is a book I’ve kept my whole life. As I reflect on my busy life this morning I googled his name and this prayer came up. It speaks to me now, in this stage of my life, but it also reminds me to take essential parts of this pilgrimage back to my busy life.

http://pastorpaulkcc.blogspot.com/2013/05/time-poem-prayer-by-michael-quoist.html?m=1

Time (a poem / prayer by Michael Quoist)

All men complain that they haven't enough time.

They look at their lives from too human a point of view.

There is always time to do what God wants us to do,

but we must put ourselves completely into each moment that he offers us now.

I went out, Lord. Men were coming and going, walking and running.

Everything was rushing; cars, trucks, the street, the whole town.

Men were rushing not to waste time.

To catch up with time, to gain time.

Good bye, Sir, excuse me, I haven't time.

I'll come back, I can't wait, I haven't time.

I must end this letter - I haven't time.

I'd love to help you, but I haven't time.

I can't accept, having no time.

I can't think, I can't read, I'm swamped, I haven't time.

I'd like to pray, but I haven't time.

You understand, Lord, they simply haven't the time.

The child is playing, he hasn't time right now..later on...

The schoolboy has his homework to do, he hasn't time..later on...

The student had his courses, and so much work...later on...

The young man is at his sports, he hasn't time...later on...

The young married man has his new house; he has to fix it up, he hasn't time...later on..

The grandparents have their grandchildren, they haven't time... later on...

They are dying, they have no...

Too late!...They have no more time!

And so all men run after time, Lord.

They pass through life running - hurried, jostled, overburdened, frantic,

and they never get there. They haven't time.

In spite of all their efforts they're still short of time.

Of a great deal of time.

Lord, you must have made a mistake in your calculations.

There is a big mistake somewhere. The hours are too short, the days are too short.

Our lives are too short.

You who are beyond time, Lord, you smile to see us fighting it.

And you know what you are doing.

You make no mistakes in your distribution of time to men.

You give each one time to do what you want him to do.

But we must not lose time

waste time,

kill time,

For time is a gift that you give us,

But a perishable gift,

A gift that does not keep.

Lord, I have time,

I have plenty of time,

All the time that you give me,

The years of my life, the days of my years, the hours of my days.

They are all mine.

Mine to fill, quietly, calmly,

But to fill completely, up to the brim.

To offer them to you, that of their insipid water You may make a rich

wine as you made once in Galilee.

I am not asking you tonight, Lord, for time to do this and then that,

but your grace to do conscientiously, in the time that you give,

what you want me to do.