This month sees the celebration of two Celtic Saints, David (our patron) on the 1^st March and Patrick on the 17^th. Both of these Saints lived in dangerous times; the old order and stability of the Roman Empire had given way to anarchy and the rise of tribal ‘War Lords’. New invaders in the form of Angles, Saxons and Jutes were arriving on the scene. Patrick, who may have been Welsh, was captured in his youth by Irish pirates who were making the most of our undefended waters. To be a Christian at that time singled you out as someone different in a world of competing pagan religions.

The Oritory at Glendalough

Despite all the danger and opposition David, Patrick and others were able to establish monastic settlements. These monasteries were nothing like those great stone ruins we visit today. The church was often small and made of wood and around it grew up all the buildings needed for community life. There was accommodation, kitchens, schools, libraries and workshops representing many different trades. In reality they had become villages, but villages with a difference, unlike the villages around they had a heart – the Church in which prayers were said regularly throughout the day.

Talking with many people I sense that many people today believe that we are living in dangerous times. I’m not sure how true that may be but there is certainly taking place a breakdown in structures that for many years have underpinned our society. Saying you are a Christian is more and more placing yourself in a minority. A worker with British Airways was suspended for wearing a cross, a long serving nurse was suspended for offering to pray with patient. We have more an more people listening to  the ravings of the likes or Richard Dawkins who has a pathological hatred of  Christians. We have the National Secular Society which would like to see all religion confined behind the door of Churches, Mosques, Synagogues and the like. True, in this country are not yet in fear of their lives but in certain circumstances life can be made difficult for anyone professing their faith.

I started by saying we are celebrating two Celtic Saints this month, but there is one more celebration; this month St. David’s is 70 years old. In 1940, one of the darkest periods of the Second World War, the church opened its doors for the first time to the people of the parish and has been ministering ever since.

The Church at the centre of the Celtic Monastery offered stability and comfort to the people. It was here prayers were said not just for themselves but the whole of the community and the surrounding countryside. That’s how I see St. David’s – at the centre of our community offering stability in a word that has changed much since its doors were first opened those seventy years ago. It is a place where prayers are said each week for all of the parish and its inhabitants.

Hopefully, like those Churches established by David and Patrick we are at the heart of our community. Their Churches were not the domain of a few monks but were open for all the people, men and women, boys and girls, Christian and Pagan. I would like to think we are the same, open to all, whether you are a person of faith or none.

One last character of Celtic Monasteries is their ability to grow whilst maintaining the stability the people desired and that is our challenge at St. David’s as we face the next few years. It is not something we can do alone, we need God, but we need the whole of the community and ultimately that means you.

Patrick is a priest in the Church of Ireland (Anglican), Director of Spiritual Formation at the Church of Ireland Theological Institute, and a Canon of Christ Church Cathedral Dublin.

If you are interested in things Franciscan it is well worth a read.

PATRICK’S BLOG

It  was written by Saint John of the Cross, a Carmelite priest in the 16th century, describing his mystical development.

The modern extract below is just the first part of this poem. It narrates the journey of the soul from her bodily home to her union with God. It happens during the night, which represents the hardships and difficulties she meets in detachment from the world and reaching the light of the union with the Creator.

The poem was adapted by Loreena McKennet on her album The Mask and the Mirror and it is that version whose words are below.

Upon a darkened night
the flame of love was burning in my breast
And by a lantern bright
I fled my house while all in quiet rest

Shrouded by the night
And by the secret stair I quickly fled
The veil concealed my eyes
while all within lay quiet as the dead

Oh night thou was my guide
of night more loving than the rising sun
Oh night that joined the lover
to the beloved one
transforming each of them into the other

Upon that misty night
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
than that which burned so deeply in my heart

That fire t’was led me on
and shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
it was a place where no one else could come.

Within my pounding heart
which kept itself entirely for him
He fell into his sleep
beneath the cedars all my love I gave

From o’er the fortress walls
the wind would his hair against his brow
And with its smoothest hand
caressed my every sense it would allow

I lost myself to him
and laid my face upon my lover’s breast
And care and grief grew dim
as in the morning’s mist became the light
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair

St Bernard of Claivaux

I’ve always had a soft spot for Bernard ever since Reading some of his writings whilst studying at University. As an evangelical I found in them a depth and Intensity that I had not come across before and they caused me to think that Medieval Christianity contained more than my fellow evangelicals were prepared to admit. His writings, along with a tour of Cistercian Abbeys in England, lead me into a love affair with Benedictine Spirituality that has stayed with me to this day. Although now a Franciscan I believe that a modified form of the Benedictine life has much to offer Christians of all denominations today. A good example of this can be found in the writing of Abbot Christopher Jamison

Like all Saints Bernard was not perfect: what for example are we to make of his preaching of the First Crusade? But there is no denying that his influence has shaped our lives. During his lifetime Cistercian Abbeys sprung up throughout the UK and became very influential. Even after the Dissolution and the Reformation Benedictine based worship still continues in the Church of England with whole chunks of Morning and Evening Prayer being taken from their Daily Office.

For the past four years I have had the privilege of working at Fountains Abbey for a few days. This year I wore the robes of a 15c

Fountains Abbey

Greyfriar and somehow I felt more ‘at home’. How many Greyfriars had stayed as guests I wonder.

Now I’m not getting all sentimental about the past, I am, however musing on the fact that what we are as Christians today is in part down to those who have gone before. Without reading Bernard my Christian life might be completely different to how it is now; I might have never taken the path that has lead me to my present vocation.

I like where I am and so here is a big thank you to Bernard and a prayer that our lives too will be lived in such a way as to influence other to good in the ages to come.