Category: Ireland (Page 4 of 6)

Snoring, Gardening, and Prayer

August 25, 2011 / eric / 2 Comments

I wear a mask at night when I sleep … it is connected to an air pump called a “CPAP machine”. CPAP stands for “continuous positive air pressure.” The members of my congregation may remember that I used my CPAP machine as a sermon illustration on Christmas Eve. (That sermon may be found online here.)

This machine is supposed to keep me breathing by preventing the collapse of my airway during sleep; it also prevents snoring….

Out of curiosity, I went looking to see if there might be a particular saint one would invoke with regard to snoring. St. Blaise is invoked with regard to illnesses of the throat including coughs, but I’m not sure that would include the airway. Prayers to St. Winnoc supposedly also can cure coughs, and also Sts. Walburga and Quentin. St. Bernardine of Siena has jurisdiction over the lungs and respiratory problems; St. Casimir of Poland, who died of some lung disease, is also invoked for cure of these. But no saint seems to have been given particular responsibility for snoring itself as a separate matter.

You’d think there would be a “patron saint of snoring”! After all, snoring has been around a long-time, probably longer than human beings. (Many animals snore – my dog snores up storm!) Consider the Reeve’s Tale from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in which a husband and wife are described as snoring together:

This meller hath so wysely bybbed ale,
That as an hors he snortith in his sleep,
Ne of his tail behind took he no keep.
His wyf bar him a burdoun a ful strong,
Men might her rowtyng heeren a forlong;
The wenche routeth eek, par companye.
Alleyn the clerk, that herd this melody,
He pokyd John and seyde, ‘Slepistow?
Herdistow ever silk a sang er now?’

[Modern English translation:
This miller had so roundly bibbed his ale
That, like a horse, he snorted in his sleep,
While of his tail behind he kept no keep.
His wife joined in his chorus, and so strong,
Men might have heard her snores a full furlong;
And the girl snored, as well, for company.
Alain the clerk, who heard this melody,
He poked at John and said: “Asleep? But how?
Did you hear ever such a song ere now?”]

Chaucer’s duet notwithstanding, it is a particularly important thing for a married person not to snore! One’s spouse (unless he or she joins in like the miller’s wife) tends to lose sleep because of one’s snoring and this can make him/her cranky. According to Peter Beresford Ellis in A Brief History of the Celts, writing about the Brehon Laws of ancient Ireland: “One reason a woman could divorce in Irish law was if her husband snored.”

Although I doubt it is codified anywhere, snoring still seems to be a cause and grounds for divorce. One writer on sleep disorders asserts that it is a major cause of marital dissolution: “Snoring is the number one medical cause for divorce. Snoring is cited as the third most frequent cause of divorce between couples following only financial problems and infidelity.”

Monks are often depicted in literature as snorers. There is a famous Buddhist story of enlightenment called “the tale of the snoring monk.” It is said that before he was killed (accidentally or purposely is unknown and the subject of historical debate) by being shot with an arrow during a hunt, William II of England received a letter from the Abbot of Gloucester warning him that one of the friars had had a prophetic dream of the king’s demise. The king read the letter just prior to the hunt, but burst out laughing, refusing to believe in what he called “the dreams of snoring monks.”

I wonder if the early eremitic monks of Ireland sought solitude in their beehive cells not so much because of a desire to pray in privacy as to get away from someone else’s snoring? There’s no record of that reason, that I know of, but there were plenty of monks who went away to be alone.

One of them was St. Fiachra, the patron saint of gardeners. (He’s also invoked in prayer for the cure of venereal diseases. Supposedly this is because of his reputed aversion to women, as well as his skills with medicinal herbs, but I’ve found no further justification for his link to venereal disease.)

Lake at St. Fiachra's Garden, Irish National Stud, Kildare

Here in Ireland, on the grounds of the Irish National Stud (a thoroughbred horse breeding facility in Kildare owned by the Irish Government) one finds St. Fiachra’s Garden (the saint is also known by the French spelling of his name “Fiacre”). It is a rather wild and unkempt garden which includes a lake, a modern recreation of a beehive cell (in which there is an in-ground crystal sculpture created by Waterford Crystal), and a statue of St. Fiachra contemplating a seed. My daughter Caitlin, her friend Jeff, and I recently visited St. Fiachra’s Garden.

Crystal Sculpture inside Beehive Cell, St. Fiachra's Garden

St. Fiachra is not mentioned in earlier Irish calendars, but it is said that he was one of the Celtic church saints, born in Ireland early in the 7th Century. Initially, he lived his monk’s life in a hermitage in County Kilkenny, but his fame has an herbalist and healer led to his being sought out be too many people. he went France in quest of greater solitude in which to devote himself to God without the distractions of the world.

Beehive Cell, St. Fiachra's Garden, Irish National Stud, Kildare

In Meaux, Bishop Faro gave him a solitary dwelling in a forest which was his personal property. According to legend the bishop offered him as much land as he could turn up in a day and St. Fiachra, instead of driving his furrow with a plough, turned the top of the soil with the point of his staff. The legend goes on to say that a local woman complained that he was digging too quickly and so, in anger, he decreed that no woman could enter the enclosure of his hermitage, and he extended this prohibition even to his chapel. Apparently this prohibition continued after this death, as there is a story that in 1620 a lady of Paris, who claimed to be above this rule, going into the oratory lost her mind upon the spot and never recovered her senses!

Fiachra cleared the ground of trees and briers, made himself a cell with a garden, built an oratory in honor of the Virgin Mary, and made a hospice for travelers which has developed into the village of Saint-Fiacre in Seine-et-Marne. It is said that any resorted to him for advice and for relief from diseases. His hagiography records that his charity moved him to attend cheerfully those that came to consult him; and in his hospice he entertained all comers, serving them with his own hands, and sometimes miraculously restored to health those that were sick.

St. Fiachra and Caitlin Funston in Contemplation

I don’t know if Fiachra snored, nor if any snorer ever consulted him about the problem, but I’m quite sure that his ministrations must have been successful, else his fame would not have continued so long that he is still known to us. I’m also sure that prayer, in addition to application of medicaments (whether herbs or modern medicines), is an effective part of the healing process.

The Dánta Dé hymnal includes many songs and charms in which God’s healing power is invoked, including this short piece, an anonymous Christmas prayer which Ms. ní Ógáin tentatively dates to the 18th Century:

A sholus-Mhic fuair crochadh ar chrois an chrainn-chéasta,
Dár dtabhairt-ne ó dhochar-bhruid na bhfír-phéine,
Ós follas duit sinn-ne i mbochtaine ‘s i ndaor-ghéibhinn,
Ó fortaigh sinn ‘san Nodlaig-se le Do chaoin-daonnacht.

A Dhéig-Mhic na Maighdine beannuighthe breágha,
Léighis-se ár dteinn-luit is cneasuigh ár gcneádha;
Tabhair deimhin-fhios is foighde dhúinn, cneas-dacht is grádha,
Le n-a ragham ar Do thealghach go flaitheas na ngrásta.

This translation is Ms. ní Ógáin’s:

O radiant Son, Who wast crucified on the Cross of the Rood,
To bring us from the hard oppression of true pain,
Since our poverty and bondage are clear of Thee,
Comfort us this Christmas with They gentle humanity.

O Good Son of the Maiden blesséd and beauteous,
Heal our sore hurts and close our wounds;
Give sure knowledge and patience to us, honesty and love,
Whereby to come to Thy home-hearth, to Heaven of the graces.

St. Fiachra, by the way, is also the patron saint of cab-drivers, especially those of Paris. French cabs are called fiacres because the first business set up to let coaches on hire, in the middle of the seventeenth century, was established in Paris on the Rue Saint-Martin near to and possibly in connection with the Hôtel de Saint-Fiacre.

So the next time you have an issue with snoring, or with gardening, or with a taxi-cab (I’m hoping none of my readers will have any problems with venereal diseases!), consider invoking the intercession of St. Fiachra.

Circles of Protection: The Dúns and Cahers of Ireland, and the Christian Community

August 24, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

One of the places I visited with my daughter Caitlin and her friend Jeff was the Caherconnell Ring Fort in the Burren of County Clare. A ring fort is an early medieval farmstead enclosed by one or more roughly circular dry stone walls or earthen banks. Although called “forts”, these dwelling-places are believed to have not been designed for defense. Rather, the role of the walls was to give shelter and security to the family, their livestock, and their possessions. The scale and complexity of the banks or walls may also have served as an indicator of the occupier´s status.

Caherconnell, according to an archeologist quoted on its website, “is a large and perfect fort 140-145 feet in external diameter, nearly circular in plan. It is 12 feet thick and from 6-14 feet high. The masonry consists of large blocks many 3 feet long and 2 ft. 6 in. high. The inner face is almost perfect.” It is a large and impressive place believed to have been originally built circa 400-600 AD and inhabited (and possibly rebuilt) up to the 15th or 16th Century.

Caherconnell Ring Fort

Gateway of the Caherconnell Ring Fort, from Outside the Fort

Gateway of the Caherconnell Ring Fort, from Inside the Fort

The interior of the fort was divided by a stone wall and there are foundations of buildings which may have been dwellings, workshops, livestock enclosures, or for other purposes.

Interior of the Caherconnell Ring Fort with Remains of Dividing Wall

Caitlin and Jeff Studying the Caherconnell Ring Fort Interior

Archeological Dig Currently Underway inside Caherconnell Ring Fort

Although Caherconnell and the other ring forts of the Burren (it is estimated there may be as many as 450 in that area) date from the middle of the first millennium AD, this style of stone enclosure is quite ancient in Ireland. A few years ago, my wife Evelyn and I visited Dún Aonghasa on Inis Mór (the largest of the Aran Islands), and a couple of years after that, with a class from Acadamh na hOllscolaíochta Gaeilge, I visited Inis Meán (the middle island) where one finds Dún Chonchúir. These forts are believed to date from pre-Christian times, perhaps the 2nd Century BC.

Dún Chonchúir, Inis Meáin, Exterior

Dún Chonchúir, Inis Meáin, Interior

Notice that the names of these earlier structures include the term dún which means “fort” and was sometimes used to describe a castle. The later structures, the ring forts of the Burren, are named with the term “caher”, an Anglicized form of the Irish word cathair, which seems to have originally meant “a dwelling place” and in modern Irish means “city”. Both are terms for shelter and protection. St. Augustine used the image of a city as a metaphor for heaven in his treatise The City of God. In an earlier post, Translating Hymns (Part 3) (22 June 2011), I posted a hymn from Dánta Dé entitled An Dún Áluinn (“The Beauteous Fort”) in which the 13th Century Irish bard Donnchadh Mór O Dálaigh (who may also have been Abbot of Boyle Abbey) used the image of a dún as a metaphor for heaven. Both, of course, are drawing on the imagery of the Book of Revelation in which John of Patmos received a vision of heaven as a walled city: “And I John saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” (Revelation 21:2)

John continues:

I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:3-4)

Again, shelter and protection are the dominant themes, just as they were the purpose of the circular dúns and cathairs of Ireland.

Earlier this year Christian leaders in the United States, including the Presiding Bishop of my own tradition, the Episcopal Church, issued a statement entitled A Circle of Protection. In it, they remind our political leaders that “budgets are moral documents, and how we reduce future deficits are historic and defining moral choices.” As leaders of and spokespersons for the larger Christian community, they “urge Congress and the administration to give moral priority to programs that protect the life and dignity of poor and vulnerable people in these difficult times, our broken economy, and our wounded world.” The statement includes these key principles:

The nation needs to substantially reduce future deficits, but not at the expense of hungry and poor people.
Funding focused on reducing poverty should not be cut. It should be made as effective as possible, but not cut.
We urge our leaders to protect and improve poverty-focused development and humanitarian assistance to promote a better, safer world.
National leaders must review and consider tax revenues, military spending, and entitlements in the search for ways to share sacrifice and cut deficits.
A fundamental task is to create jobs and spur economic growth. Decent jobs at decent wages are the best path out of poverty, and restoring growth is a powerful way to reduce deficits.
The budget debate has a central moral dimension. Christians are asking how we protect “the least of these.” “What would Jesus cut?” “How do we share sacrifice?”
As believers, we turn to God with prayer and fasting, to ask for guidance as our nation makes decisions about our priorities as a people.
God continues to shower our nation and the world with blessings. As Christians, we are rooted in the love of God in Jesus Christ. Our task is to share these blessings with love and justice and with a special priority for those who are poor.

Among the morning hymns of Dánta Dé is a short prayer for shelter and protection. In the spirit of the Circle of Protection statement, I offer it here on behalf of the poor and hungry. It is set out below in the original Irish, in the translation by Úna ní Ógáin, and in my own translation:

Rí na naomh dár ndíon gach lae
Ar shaoigheadaibh daora an dhiabhail
Noch bhís go gear ar tí gach naoimh
De chlainn bhoicht Éabha riamh
Mo mhile lean-sa claoidhte faon
Faoi gach éiliomh dian,
Acht tríot-sa, a aon-mhic dhilis dé,
Go dtigeam-na saor ó phian

Ms. ní Ógáin’s translation:

The King of the saints be our shelter each day,
Against the dangerous darts of the devil,
Who is ever keenly pursuing each saint
Of the poor children of Eve
My thousand sorrows, worn, exhausted,
Because of each hard temptation;
But through Thee, o dear Only Son of God,
May we come safe from pain.

My own translation:

King of the saints, our shelter every day
Against the furious arrows of the devil
Who is [constantly] sharply pursuing each saint
Of the poor children of Eve
Our thousand sorrows, worn down, helpless
Because of each severe corruption
But through you, God’s only true Son,
May we come free of pain.

Just as the dúns and cathairs of ancient Ireland provided circles of protection for those who lived within them, the Christian community is to be a circle of protection. The difference between the church and the dúns and cathairs is that the circle of protection drawn by the Christian is to be inclusive of all, those without as well as those within. Archbishop William Temple, who was Archbishop of Canterbury during the Second World War, once wrote these words: “The Church is the only society that exists for the benefit of those who are not its members.” And I am reminded of the poem Outwitted by American poet Edwin Markham:

He drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.

Experiment with Facebook Photos

August 24, 2011 / eric / 3 Comments

Just as an experiment…

Facebook’s photo album application says that one can share photos “with anyone” by sending them a link by email….

So I thought maybe I could include that same link would work on the blog.

On the first day my daughter Caitlin and her friend Jeff were here, we had breakfast at Bewley’s Tea Room in Dublin. On leaving, we found a hammered dulcimer player just outside on Grafton Street. Then we went to the Guinness Storehouse for the “Guinness Experience” and finally we went to Black Church Print Makers, a cooperative of artists who work in the same media that Caitlin prefers.

Here are photos from that first day: Dublin with Caitlin and Jeff.

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part Two

August 23, 2011 / eric / 2 Comments

While I was in County Wicklow (Contae Chill Mhantáin), as I have earlier reported, I visited two very different monastic ruin sites: Glendalough, where Naomh Caoimhín (St. Kevin) established a “monastic city” in the 6th Century, and Baltinglass Abbey, a Cistercian foundation established in 1148 by Dermot McMurrough, king of Leinster. The former is now a very large national park with an impressive visitors center and a four-star hotel; the latter is tucked away in a forgotten corner of the town of Batlinglass in the churchyard of a minor Church of Ireland parish behind a national school, with no accommodation for visitors as all.

St. Mary's - Baltinglass, Church of Ireland, on Whose Grounds the Abbey Is Located

This is the second part of a two-part entry; the first part was a description of my visit to Glendalough. This is a description of Baltinglass Abbey.

Baltinglass Abbey

Baltinglass was the second house to be colonized from the Cistercian (also known as “Trappist”) stronghold at Mellifont Abbey. The first was Bective Abbey in Co. Meath founded in 1147.

Mellifont itself was founded in 1142. Known in Irish as An Mhainistir Mhór, literally “the big abbey”, it thrived for 400 years until it was disestablished in 1556. Thereafter, it was used as a Tudor manor house until it was finally abandoned in 1727. New Mellifont Abbey was founded in 1938 and is now an active Trappist monastery. It is located in County Louth, north of Dublin.

Baltinglass was a successful abbey and, in its turn, colonized other foundations, including the more famous Jerpoint Abbey in County Kilkenny in 1180.

Baltinglass Abbey

The construction of the permanent buildings at Baltinglass began only a few years after the initial foundation and the church was raised relatively quickly. The buildings are typical of the Irish versions of the Cistercian Romanesque style.

One of the abbots built himself a “tower house” or castle in the late middle ages, and in 1541 it was reported that Baltinglass owned castles at Graungeforth, Knocwyre, Mochegraunge, Graungerosnalvan, Grangecon, and Littlegraunge among others.

Tower House within Baltinglass Abbey

In the early 16th Century the annual income of the abbey was estimated at £76 in time of war and £126 in peace time. These may not seem like large figures until one considers the comparative value of the pound in the early 16th Century. That pound (actually a monetary unit known as the Angel at the time) would have a current value of £4,910 (or $8,105). Thus, annually the war time income of Baltinglass Abbey would have been £373,000 (about $616,000); peace time income, £620,000 (about $1,023,000). This made Baltinglass one of the richest Cistercian abbeys in Ireland at the time.

Perhaps its financial success is the reason Baltinglass was one of the first five Irish Trappist monasteries suppressed in the first round of closures during Henry VIII’s Dissolution in 1536-37.

Although none of the conventual buildings survive, the abbey church remains relatively unscathed. The church is considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland. The church contains a rich array of carvings, including some with animals and human figures. The northeast crossing pier is decorated with a lion and foliage ornaments. The nave of the church is aisled with alternating cylindrical and square piers, which are of English origin, the bases of which are decorated with a range of unusual designs.

Romanesque Arches at Baltinglass Displaying Decorative Carving

Nave Arches at Baltinglass, Note the Alternating Cylindrical & Square Piers

These were crafted by the so-called “Baltinglass Master” who subsequently worked on the abbey at Jerpoint. A series of tiles have also been discovered at the site; one design depicts a warrior thrusting forward with a circular shield.

Baltinglass Tile showing Ornate Celtic Knotwork

Other features of interest are the bases of two Romanesque doorways in the nave aisle and the well-preserved sedilia in the presbytery.

The Sedilia (Inset Clergy Seating) at Baltinglass Abbey

An odd and very out-of-place addition to the site is a great pyramid style granite mausoleum, built in 1832 as a tomb for the Stratford family who were powerful estate owners in the area.

The Stratford Family Mausoleum

One wonders why, if a leading Irish architecture magazine (Archiseek) has declared that Baltinglass Abbey is “considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland,” this site is not better preserved and presented. I have some thoughts, not all of them complimentary to the Irish people or the Irish church….

First, I would note that Baltinglass Abbey was not an indigenous Irish foundation – it was Cistercian, an order from France. Glendalough, on the other hand, was founded by a beloved indigenous, early Celtic saint. Now this alone is not a reason for it to be so ignored in its little corner of Co. Wicklow. There are plenty of well-preserved and better presented Trappist foundations; Baltinglass’s daughter house, Jerpoint Abbey, is one example.

Second, I think it more important in this regard to not that Baltinglass is not held and administered by the Office of Public Works, Heritage Ireland, or another state agency as the better presented sites are. Rather, it is (as noted) on the grounds of a parish of the Church of Ireland. All of the historic church properties of Ireland after the reformation (especially after the dissolution of the monasteries) became the property of the established church – although this country was a part of the English Crown’s domain at the time, this was not the Church of England. Rather the Church of Ireland came into existence as a reformed church independent of the Roman Catholic Church in 1536 when the Irish Parliament declared Henry VIII to be the Supreme Head of the Church on earth (i.e. Head of the Church of Ireland); Henry actually became head of the Irish church before becoming king of the Irish nation! He was not declared King of Ireland until 1541. (Previously, his title, one granted English kings by the Pope, was Lord of Ireland. The declaration that he was King of Ireland was, therefore, part of the Anglo-Irish ecclesio-political reform.)

The Church of Ireland was disestablished by The Irish Church Act of 1896, which empowered the commissioners of the Church of Ireland to transfer all important churches and ecclesiastical buildings into the care of the Irish State, to be preserved as national monuments and not to be used as places of public worship. One hundred thirty-seven ancient buildings, apparently not including Baltinglass Abbey, were listed for transfer to the Commissioners of Public Works. The paramount consideration was the saving of the nation’s architectural heritage. Had Baltinglass Abbey been transferred to the Public Works department, there would be a better chance of it having a better presentation.

Why do I think this would be the case? Two reasons. First, the Church of Ireland is not a wealthy church by any stretch of the imagination. I believe it is incapable of properly funding the support of its aging buildings, especially those which are not in regular use. In my travels around this country, I have been distressed to see the poor state of repair of many Anglican churches. If I were asked (and I haven’t been, admittedly) I would recommend to the Church of Ireland that it undertake a program of building renewal and refurbishment, and in some cases of building divestment – including divesting itself of antiquities it cannot properly maintain.

Second, the Church of Ireland is a minority church; in 2006 (latest year for which I can find statistics) less than 3% of the people of the Irish Republic declared themselves members of the Anglican church here. Nearly 87% declared themselves Roman Catholic. The other ten percent are shared among other Christian traditions and other religious faiths, as well as a large group (more than half the size of the Church of Ireland) who state they are non-religious. Despite being a modern, secular state (although one with heavy involvement from the majority religious body, especially in the area of education), Ireland is a very divided culture.

I remember being in Donegal and asking about the whereabouts of members of the Funston family there or in neighboring counties. The very lovely and gracious lady with whom we were talking was from the village of Pettigo and recalled that there were Funstons living there, “but they weren’t our people,” by which she clearly meant they weren’t Roman Catholic. (As it turned out, the Funstons we did eventually meet were Anglicans.)

I believe this divide deprives Church of Ireland antiquity sites like Baltinglass Abbey of the broader publicity and support they might otherwise get. I was surprised to find that, although there is public signage to other places in the village of Blatinglass (including Roman Catholic churches), there is none indicating where one can find the Abbey! (Remember, this is a place “considered one of the finest examples of Romanesque architecture in Ireland”!) I had to stop at a petrol station to ask how to find it….

I may be wrong … but the difference in the treatment of these two monastic sites in the same county suggests to me that the Republic of Ireland still has a long way to come in the dealing with the divide between “Catholic” and “Protestant” (which Anglicans are here considered to be … and for now I won’t get into that debate).

Nonetheless, having visited both Glendalough and Baltinglass Abbey during my stay in County Wicklow, I give thanks to God for the witness of the men and women who lived and worked in such foundations. I offer in celebration of their faith the closing doxology of the Dánta Dé hymnal, first in Irish and then in translation:

Dennacht ocus étrochta,
Ecna, altugud buide,
A mórnert is comachta
‘Con Ríg comic na huile.

Glóir is cáta is caendúthracht,
Molad, airfitiud adbal,
Rográth ón uile chride
Do Ríg nime ocus talman.

Forsin Trínóid togaide
Ré cách, iar cách, do ellacht
Bennacht ocus bithbennacht,
Bithbennacht ocus bennacht.

And the English translation:

Blessing and radiance,
Wisdom and thanksgiving,
Great power and might,
Be to the King who rules over all.

Glory and honor and sweet-devotion,
Praise and wondrous music
Ardent love from every heart
To the King of heaven and earth.

To the exalted Trinity
Before all, after all, hath pertained
Blessing and eternal blessing,
Blessing-eternal and blessing.

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part One

August 23, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

This will be a two-part entry consisting first of a description of my visit to Glendalough.

The name Glendalough comes from the Irish Gleann Dá Locha, meaning “Glen of Two Lakes”, so as you might guess, the site is quite large. It is encompasses the two lakes, several ruined buildings, and a round tower. I spent nearly three hours there and saw only a small part of site. (It was a cloudy day, so my pictures are rather dark.)

One enters the “monastic city” by way of a gateway which is unique among Irish monastic ruins. Other monasteries or abbeys may have had such gateways, but this seems to be the only one that has been preserved. The gateway originally may have been roofed over for several meters. The gateway signified that one was entering a place of sanctuary or refuge.

Entering the Monastic City through the Gateway

Gateway to Monastic City Seen from within the City

As one enters the monastic city now, what one mostly sees are gravestones. Like nearly all ruined monastic cites (and many ruined churches) it has continued to be considered holy ground and thus an appropriate place for the burial of the faithful. Most of the buildings that would have comprised the city at its largest size were probably thatch-roofed wattle-and-daub structures which are long gone. The monastery in its heyday would have included workshops, areas for manuscript writing and copying, guest houses, an infirmary, and farm buildings and dwelling for both monks and a large lay population. What remain are a few stone structures, including a “cathedral” and a round tower. Most of the surviving buildings probably date from between the 10th and 12th Centuries.

The round tower is constructed of mica-slate and granite; it is about 30 meters high, with an entrance 3.5 meters from the base. At one time it was thought that these high entrances to round towers were for defensive purposes, but it is now believed that they are that high simply to provide the most solid possible foundation for the structure, to prevent leaning or collapse.

Round towers were meant to be seen; they were built to provide a landmark for pilgrims making their way to the monasteries. There are 52 known round towers in Ireland, all associated with monasteries, abbeys, and cathedral churches, places of pilgrimage. They were probably also meant to be heard. The Irish word for a round tower is cloigtheach, which means “bell house”.

The Round Tower at Glendalough

The largest structure on the site is the “cathedral”. It is constructed of mica-shist and granite. It is thought that a smaller structure was replaced in the 12th or 13th Century with the current building.

Interior of the Glendalough Cathedral

A few steps from the front door of the cathedral is “the priest’s house”. The original purpose of this building is unknown, though it is thought that it may have housed the relics of St. Kevin. It’s current name comes from the practice of interring priests here during the 18th and 19th Centuries.

The Priest's House

The only roofed structure on the site is St. Kevin’s Church, also called St. Kevin’s Kitchen. It is a nave-and-chancel church from the 12th century. It has a small round belfry above the west doorway, which apparently was added to the church after the original construction. Only the foundations now remain of the chancel, and beside it still stands the stone-roofed sacristy.

St. Kevin’s Kitchen

Passing St. Kevin’s Kitchen, one makes ones way to the 1.4 km pathway along the mountain-side of the lower lake (a 1.6 km boardwalk path is available along the other side).

Oak Forest through with the Pathway Runs

At the upper lake (which is the prettier of the two lakes) are additional ruins – the Reefert Church, St. Kevin’s Cell (remains of a stone beehive hut), St. Kevin’s Bed (a man-enlarged cave), and Teampall na Skellig (the latter two reachable only by boat) – and natural wonders such as Poulanass Falls.

The Upper Lake

Stream from Poulanass Falls

The only one of these that I visited is the Reefert Church. (My right ankle on which I had Achilles tendon surgery a couple of years ago was complaining by the time I got to the upper lake, so further mountain trails were not inviting). The name derives from Righ Fearta, meaning the burial place of the Kings. Reefert Church is set on the mountain side and is approached by a steep path and a stone stairway.

Reefert Church

I walked back to the monastic city by way of the boardwalk, a longer but easier path.

Boardwalk along the Lower Lake

As one approaches the monastic city, one sees the Round Tower as an approaching pilgrim may have seen it. (In the foreground of the following picture is St. Mary’s Church, a ruin not accessible to visitors.)

The Round Tower Seen from the Boardwalk

St. Kevin’s monastic city thrived from its founding in the 6th Century until it was sacked by English forces in 1398. However it continued as a church of local importance and a place of pilgrimage. Descriptions of Glendalough in the 18th and 19th Centuries include reference to occasions of “riotous assembly” on the feast of St. Kevin (June 3).

Today, it is a tourist attraction as well as a place of pilgrimage. There were tour groups from many nations while I was there (I heard French, Spanish, Italian, and German spoken along the path as I walked between the lakes). There was also a group from Ecuador singing and praying inside the cathedral during my visit. The monastic ruins at Glendalough are an active place!

Not so the ruins at Baltinglass which I will describe in part two of this entry.

So Much To Write About (Part 2)

August 22, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

After our visits to Kildare and Cork (see last post), we went north. On August 19, we drove into the UK visiting County Fermanagh in Northern Ireland. Our first stop there was at Belleek to visit the china manufacturer and take the tour, one of the best “industrial” tours I’ve ever taken.

The Belleek Factory Tour

We then drove around Lower Loch Erne to Enniskillen, stopping along the way on Boa Island to see the Janus Stone (a strange little two-faced statue in a small, ancient-but-still-in-use graveyard on an insignificant island in the middle of nowhere – a picture of the kids with the stone is in Caitlin’s camera). After that we stopped in Kesh for a cup of coffee and a scone in an odd little café (we had to get them to go because the place was packed and there was no seating). We chatted with a couple of workmen from Enniskillen, one of whom knows the Funstons of Kesh whom Evie and I met on our visit there six years ago.

Caitlin Stepping over Stones at Caldragh Cemetery, Boa Island

In Enniskillen we discovered a horrible traffic crunch and simply drove slowly through the High Street past the Anglican cathedral and left it at that. We also discovered that my Garmin GPS is programmed rather oddly – one cannot find Florence Court (a manor house maintained by the UK National Trust) or the Marble Arch Caves Global Geopark (a European Union geographical heritage site also maintained by the National Trust) listed as “attractions” or “points of interest”. I finally found Florence Court listed as “Florencecourt” and designated as a city. The “city” is a cluster of maybe seven buildings (six homes and a small store) about 2 km from the manor house itself. We did not visit the house, but did go to the caves. (Looking at my pictures of that, I discover one more thing … I’m not a subterranean nature photographer!)

Jeff and Catlin at Marble Arch Cave Global Geopark

We ended August 19 returning to Banagher by way of Roscrea, stopping there for dinner at a very nice restaurant in a local hotel. The next day we took a late morning (most of our mornings we rose very early to make the long drive to our day’s destination) and went to Galway for the day. There we walked through Eyre Square, trolled down Shop Street, walked along the River Corrib, visited the city museum, the Roman Catholic Cathedral, the campus of NUI Galway, and the National Aquarium in Salthill.

Jeff & Caitlin at the River Corrib in Galway, Éire

On the way back to Banagher we stopped at Clonmacnoise and visited the ruins of a Celtic monastery founded by St. Ciáran.

Clonmacnoise

At the end of the day, we went to dinner at Flynn’s Pub and Restaurant in Banagher, the same place the kids had had their first dinner in Ireland. Our evening was spent getting their things (and some of mine that they are taking back to the States) packed up and going to bed early for our departure for Dublin early the next morning.

In Dublin, we had a bit of difficulty getting into the car park at the Jurys Inn Christ Church (where they had reserved a room for the night), but eventually we got there, used the restrooms in the hotel, and walked to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells. Unfortunately, you can’t take pictures inside the exhibit or in the Long Room of the Trinity Library, so no photos. After seeing the Book of Kells, we walked to Grafton Street; along the way, Caitlin stopped to meet her predecessor in the fishmongering business, Molly Malone:

Caitlin with Molly Malone, Grafton Street, Dublin, Éire

We had breakfast at Bewley’s on Grafton Street, and walked through St. Stephen’s Green on our way to the National Print Museum which Caitlin wanted to see.

National Famine Memorial Monument in St. Stephen's Green

Caitlin and Jeff at the Irish National Print Museum, Dublin

Before leaving for Dublin, I took their picture in front of the cottage. I have really enjoyed having them with me for the week; Caitlin and I both got teary eyed saying goodbye in the Jurys Inn car park. (I’m tearing up right now!) I love my daughter and to spend this week with her, introducing her to a country I’ve grown to love, was a real treat! And it was good to have Jeff along; he’s a good man, laid back and relaxed.

Jeff & Caitlin at the McDonalds' Chestnut Cottage in Banagher, Co. Offaly, Éire

As I close this post, Continental Airlines reports that they are en route, have been in the air for 2 hours, 15 minutes, and will arrive in Newark in a little under 5 hours. Slán abhaile, kids!

So Much To Write About!

August 22, 2011 / eric / 0 Comments

I have so much to write about! Since I brought you up to date on what Caitlin, Jeff, and I had done during their first three days, these are the things we have done:

On August 17, we visited the Irish National Stud, a government-owned horse breeding facility.

Caitlin and Jeff at the Tour of the National Stud

Next, we visited two gardens on the grounds of the Stud, St. Fiacre’s Garden and the Japanese Garden.

Caitliin & Jeff at the Japanese Garden

We tried to see St. Brigid’s Cathedral in Kildare, but it was closed when we got there. So we went on our way to Emo Court outside of Portlaoise. This is a manor house built in the 1790s and restored in the 1970s-1990s. For part of its life it was used as a Jesuit Seminary. Originally the demesne was 16,000 acres, but most of that was distributed to local farmers during land reforms. Now the house is surrounded by a nearly 300-acre public park.

Jeff and Caitlin at Emo Court

The next day, August 18, we went to County Cork. First, we went into the city of Cork where Caitlin wanted to visit the cooperative Cork Print Makers. After a brief stop at St. Fin Barre’s Cathedral where I chatted briefly with the dean before he began a service of Morning Prayer. From there, we found our way to the print makers and then to the English Market where we enjoyed lunch in the cafe.

Caitlin and Jeff at Cork Print Makers Coop

After Cork city, we went to Blarney and visited the castle. There were busloads of tourists and a wait of more than an hour standing in line to “kiss the Blarney Stone” so we skipped that. We walked the grounds, visiting the Poison Garden and the Fern Garden.

Caitlin and Jeff at Blarney Castle

Our visit to the south of Ireland ended this day at the Jameson’s Distillery in Midleton. This picture shows us at the start of the tour. All three of us got to be “official whiskey tasters” at the end; the picture of that is in Caitlin’s camera.

The Three of Us at the Jameson's Distillery

I’ll end this post here and start another about our next few days when we concentrated on the middle and northern parts of the country.

Places Visited Recently – Pending Posts

August 17, 2011 / eric / 2 Comments

I’ve been traveling a bit the past few days and have been joined by my daughter Caitlin for the week. Here’s where I’ve been since visiting Birr Castle.

First, I spent three days based in a B&B between Avoca and Redcross in County Wicklow. Of course, I visited Avoca where the BBC program about life in a small Irish village, Ballykissangel, was filmed.

Avoca, Ireland, scene of Ballykissangel

About 25 kilometers from Avoca is Glendalough, the early Celtic monastery founded by St. Kevin. It is in a beautiful setting and is a popular attraction both for the Irish and for foreign visitors. I must have heard a half-dozen or more languages the day I was there, including German, Italian, Spanish, French, and Japanese, as well as English (and some I didn’t recognize).

The Round Tour at Glendalough, County Wicklow

In the southwest part of County Wicklow is Baltinglass where one finds another monastic ruin, the remains of Baltinglass Abbey. Unlike Glendalough, Baltinglass Abbey is not a Celtic cite. It is considered one of the most important Cistercian abbeys of Leinster. and was founded in 1148 by Dermot McMurrough, king of Leinster. It was the second house to be colonized by the Cistercians of Mellifont. One finds it now on the grounds of a small Church of Ireland parish tucked back in a corner of the town.

Baltinglass Abbey, County Wicklow

I visited the county town of Wicklow, but it was crawling with a motorcycle touring group and several groups of teenagers in buses visiting the historic gaol. So I didn’t stay long. I visited the other major town in the county, Arklow, and went to the modern shopping center to buy some supplies. I took no pictures in either place.

My daughter Caitlin and her friend Jeff arrived on Monday morning. I picked them up at the airport and we spent the day exploring Dublin. Our first stop was the famous Bewley’s Tea Room on Grafton Street for a bite of breakfast. We tried to see the Book of Kells, but there was a one-and-a-half-hour line so we decided we would return later to do that and come back early some other day. We then walked from there to the Guinness Storehouse and took that tour.

The Guinness Harp

Our first full day together, yesterday, we were blessed with fabulously sunny (if cool and breezy) weather. We visited the Burren. Our first scheduled stop was to be the Burren College of the Arts which Caitlin had read about on-line. However, on the drive there we passed Dungaire Castle and decided to take a look.

Dungaire Castle, County Galway

After the castle we went to the art school:

Caitlin and Jeff at Burren College of the Arts

Finally we went to the Caherconnell ringfort and the nearby Poulnabrone dolmen.

Poulnabrone Dolmen, The Burren, County Clare

Between all this travel and taking my free time to work on translations, I’ve not had time to post to this blog. However, I am making notes and next week, when I am again on my own, I’ll post more photos and comments.

Chronos and Kairos and the Search for Answers

August 13, 2011 / eric / 3 Comments

I left An Cheathrú Rua on Friday, August 12, 2011, and drove (by back roads, not on the motorway) to Beannchar na Sionna, Contae Uibh Fhaili (Banagher, County Offaly – the Irish name of the town, from the words beanna meaning “antlers” and carraig meaning “rock”, means “place of pointed rocks on the Shannon River” – the county name comes from that of an ancient Irish kingdom, the Uí Failghe). I will be renting a cottage there for a month beginning in a few days and wanted to stop at the cottage to drop some things off with the landlords before continuing to Contae Chill Mhantáin (County Wicklow) where I am visiting the following locations:

Glendalough, site of St. Kevin’s Monastery.
Wickow Town, port city and site of an historic gaol (“jail” to Americans)
Avoca, the town where the BBC series Ballykissangel was filmed

Leaving Banagher, I found myself driving through the city of Birr directly beside Castle Birr and decided, “What the heck? I have time. I’ll visit the demesne of Castle Birr.” Castle Birr is the historic home of the Earls of Rosse and is still occupied by the Parsons family today. Thus the castle itself is not open to the public, but the grounds are.

Castle Birr, Biir, Co. Uibh Fhaili, Éire

There has been a castle on the site since 1170. From the 14th to the 17th centuries the Ó Céarbhaill family of Eile (Anglicized: O’Carroll of Ely) ruled this part of Ireland. (Their northen neighbors were the Ó Conchubhair Failghe, from which the county gets its name.) The O’Carroll’s ruled from a castle called “The Black Tower” which no longer exists.

After the death of Sir Charles O’Carroll, Sir Laurence Parsons was granted Birr Castle and 1,277 acres of land in 1620. He engaged English masons in the construction of a new castle making use of the gatehouse of the old Black Tower as its foundation. Flankers were added to the gatehouse diagonally at either side, giving the castle the plan it still has today. Descendants embellished the castle in the 18th century and by 1840 it looked as it now does. It is a 100-room private home!

Castle Birr, Biir, Co. Uibh Fhaili, Éire

The third Earl of Rosse, William Parsons, had no interest in adding to the castle. Instead, his interest lay in astronomy, particularly the study of nebulae, and he took it upon himself to build the largest telescope yet constructed. In 1845 he built on the castle grounds the “Great Telescope”, also called “the Leviathan of Parsonstown”, a reflecting telescope with a 72 in aperture. It was the largest telescope in the world until the Hooker Telescope was built at Mt. Wilson Observatory in California in 1917.

Parsons did not use the telescope for nearly three years after its construction because he turned his attention to famine relief (these were the years of the Great Hunger). But in 1847 he began his work, cataloging and studying nebulae. He discovered 226 of the nebulae and other deep sky objects eventually listed in the New General Catalog compiled in the 1880s by J. L. E. Dreyer and published by the Royal Astronomical Society in 1888.

The Great Telescope, Birr Castle Demesne, Biir, Co. Uibh Fhaili, Éire

After his death in 1867, his descendants used the Leviathan for another forty or so years. However, it fell into disuse and was partially dismantled in 1908; in 1914, one of the mirrors with its mirror box was transferred to the Science Museum in London. The walls remained. The tube, second mirror box, and universal joint survived. Eventually, however, even these were removed for safety reasons.

In the 1990s, the Leviathan was restored. Since there were no surviving plans, the restorers worked from Parsons’ notes, descriptions written by visitors, drawings and photographs. The restored instrument is what one now sees on the demesne of Birr Castle.

The Great Telescope, Birr Castle Demesne, Biir, Co. Uibh Fhaili, Éire

The Leviathan and the work of the various members of the Parsons family in astronomy and other sciences are the reason there is a pretty good “history of science” museum on the castle grounds. As I read about George Johnstone Stoney, one of William Parsons’ assistants who went on the achieve his own sort of fame as a physicist and the originator of the term electron, I thought this post about Castle Birr would be a good place to throw in some thoughts I’ve been having about string theory and God.

While on this trip, I’ve been reading The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene (Vintage Books 2000). I mentioned in another post that, for some reason, my “recreational reading” these days seems to be in the area of quantum mechanics and string theory…. I think this is because I am fascinated by the echoes of spirituality, theology, and religion I find in the comments of the mathematicians and physicists who write in this area for the general public. For example, about halfway into this book, Greene writes:

Imagine a universe in which the laws of physics are as ephemeral as the tastes of fashion – changing from year to year, from week to week, or even from moment to moment. In such a world, assuming that the changes do not disrupt basic life processes, you would never experience a dull moment, to say the least. The simplest acts would be an adventure, since random variations would prevent you or anyone else from using past experience to predict anything about future outcomes.
Such a universe is a physicist’s nightmare. Physicists – and most everyone else as well – rely crucially upon the stability of the universe. The laws that are true today were true yesterday and will still be true tomorrow (even if we have not been clever enough to have figure them all out). (Pp 167-68)

That sounds an awful lot like something in Holy Scripture – this bit from the Letter to the Hebrews: ” Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Heb. 13:8, NRSV) Greene may have been intentionally echoing Hebrews, but I don’t think so. I think the scientific quest for “the theory of everything” springs from the same source as the religious quest for understanding, and that both science and religion seek the stability of that which is, always has been, and always will be true. Later in the book, Greene discusses the application of string theory to cosmology and the ways in which the two fields learn from each other:

[T]he study of cosmology does hold the promise of giving us our most complete understanding of the arena of the why – the birth of the universe – and this at least allows for a scientifically informed view of the frame within which the questions are asked. Sometime attaining the deepest familiarity is our best substitute for actually having the answer. (Pp. 364-65)

I’m taken by that last thought, that “deep familiarity” is a substitute for “an answer”; I might even amend Greene’s thought to suggest that “deep familiarity” is the answer. Throughout the book Greene refers to spacetime as “the fabric” of the universe. For example, close to his conclusion he writes about the question of whether there was something “before” time, “before” space:

[D]escribing the spacetime fabric in [a] string-stitched form does lead us to contemplate the following question. An ordinary piece of fabric is the end product of someone having carefully woven together individual threads, the raw material of common textiles. Similarly, we can ask ourselves whether there is a raw precursor to the fabric of spacetime – a configuration of strings of the cosmic fabric in which they have not yet coalesced into the organized form that we recognize as spacetime. (P. 378)

The Hebrew Scriptures also speak of deep familiarity and use similar metaphors in describing God’s creative action, the metaphor of knitting and weaving. Jeremiah the prophet, for example, records his call to ministry quoting God as saying to him, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you,” (Jer. 1:5) words that I recalled when I read Greene’s passage above about the “raw precursor” before the universe had “coalesced into the organized form that we recognize as spacetime.” In Psalm 139 themes one finds in Greene’s book, light and dark, weaving and pre-existence, are found together in a religious expression of the same yearning for deep familiarity:

If I say, “Surely the darkness will cover me, *
and the light around me turn to night,”
Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day; *
darkness and light to you are both alike.
For you yourself created my inmost parts; *
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I will thank you because I am marvelously made; *
your works are wonderful, and I know it well.
My body was not hidden from you, *
while I was being made in secret and woven in the depths of the earth.
(Psalm 139:10-14 From the American Episcopal Book of Common Prayer Psalter)

In Greene’s discussion of that “raw precursor” before time and space, I was also reminded of the theological terns chronos and kairos, two different understandings of time which come into Christian theology through Greek philosophy. The first, chronos, is time on the move, time with a before and after, time in which we look to the future, experience the present, and remember the past. This is the time Greene writes about when he says, “[W]e, our friends, our belongings, and so forth all move through time … time [is] another dimension of the universe – the fourth dimension.” (p 49) Chronos is measurable, dimensional time.

The second Greek word for time is kairos, which considers time as qualitative rather than quantitative, as significant rather than dimensional; it speaks of time as a moment, time as occasion. Theologically, kairos refers to the “eternal now”, to God’s time, to time outside of time, to the eternal as distinguished from the everlasting. In kairos, there is no sequence, no before and after, no dimensionality, no length to it at all.

Not quite at the conclusion of this book, Greene says:

The astonishment at our ability to understand the universe at all is easily lost sight of in an age of rapid and impressive progress. However, maybe there is a limit to comprehensibility. Maybe we have to accept that after reaching the deepest possible level of understanding science can offer, there will nevertheless be aspects of the universe that remain unexplained. Maybe we will have to accept that certain features of the universe are the way they are because of happenstance, accident, or divine choice. (P. 385)

Reading those words and Greene’s conclusion two pages later, in which he encourages us all to keep striving for answers, to keep seeking to comprehend, I thought how often we have heard scientists, particularly physicists, compared to children playing with fire, and that reminded me of a Scriptural answer to Greene’s “maybe” … that there will be a time when our childish “maybes” will be resolved:

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love. (1 Cor. 13:12-13, NRSV)

The Leviathan of Parsonstown is a monument to that seeking spirit which informs both science and religion, that searching for comprehension that will be answered in the “eternal now” by that “raw precursor” Who was before time and space.

The Great Telescope, Birr Castle Demesne, Biir, Co. Uibh Fhaili, Éire

Memories and Good-Byes

August 10, 2011 / eric / 3 Comments

I received word yesterday that Earl, a long-time parishioner and good friend back home, had passed away. This was not a surprise; he had been diagnosed with lung cancer some months ago and we expected that he would die while I was on sabbatical. Still, it has filled the day with sadness. I think of his wife, his children, his grandchildren, all of whom I know, and I know that today is a hard one for them. No matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t. It’s that simple. Death is never easy.

My father died suddenly and unexpectedly when I was not quite six years old; we weren’t prepared. My mother and step-father both died after long and protracted illnesses; we weren’t prepared either time. My mother-in-law passed away after several years of decline into the living death that is Alzheimer’s Disease; even with that long and difficult course, we weren’t prepared. Through the years other friends and family members have died. Parishioners and parishioners’ loved ones have died and I have officiated at their burials and celebrated the Requiem Masses for the repose of their souls. The one thing all of these passings has taught me … no matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t.

The Irish live with death closer at hand than any other people I’ve encountered. Oh, for sure, there are places where the physical reality of death is nearer at the present; places where famine reigns, places like Somalia and in recent years Ethiopia and other north African countries from which we see the pictures of emaciated corpses and children with malnutrition-distorted bodies. The Irish lived through times like those 165 and more years ago; as the saying goes, they’ve been there, done that.

I’ve written earlier about the famine houses and how they are a living, daily memory of that time. I didn’t write in that entry that in addition to the abandoned homes, there are famine houses that were tombs. Starving families would simply close their door and huddle together in a corner of the house and die. There was no food; there was nothing else to do. (I’m told that there are recorded instances of cannibalism during the famine years. I’ve not read those records myself.) The Irish have been there, done that.

The famine houses are not the only reminders of mortality on this island. There are also the ruins of churches, of small parish churches, of missionary encampments, of great monasteries dating back to the first days of Christianity in Ireland. The names of some are well known: Ballentubber Abbey, a ruin now restored as a parish church and described in another post on this blog; Clonmacnoise in County Offaly which dates from the middle of the 5th Century; the Rock of Cashel, the remains of a 12th Century monastery on a site reputed to have been used by Patrick for the baptism of the kings of Ireland in the 5th Century; Glendalough founded in the Wicklow Mountains by St. Kevin in the 6th Century.

Others are not so well known; Teampall Mhic Ádhaimh (“Church of the Son of Adam”) is a local ruin here on An Cheathrú Rua. Local tradition has it that it was built by a Saint Smochan and archeological and architectural evidence points to a 15th Century construction date. This church is located near the water’s edge at Trá na Reilige (“Beach of the Burial Ground”) at Barr an Doire (“Oaktree Point”).

Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh (Church of the Son of Adam), An Cheathrú Rua

Another is Teampall Chaomháin (“St. Kevin’s Church”), the buried church on Inis Oírr, the smallest of the Aran Islands. These churches probably came into ruin as a result of “the Penal Years” when the practice of Roman Catholicism in Ireland was outlawed by the English. They came into ruin, but not disuse.

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Like many local (and monastic) ruins throughout Ireland, these ruined churches were considered holy ground and so they became burial grounds.

Burial Ground at Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Burial Ground at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

I wandered through the graveyard at Barr an Doire and photographed some of the gravestones, many carved in beautiful Gaelic text. This one marks the grave of Bairbre Nic Donncha, who died April 20, 1960, her husband Peadar, who followed her two days later, and their son Peadar, who died a few days before Christmas in 1995. The blessing on the marker reads, Ar deis De go raibh anam – A chlann a thog, which means “May their souls be at the right hand of God, their family prays.”

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

The next stands over the tomb of Chóilín Phádraig Pheatsín, who died April 2, 1959, and his wife Nora, who joined him on March 1, 2002. The prayer reads Taispeáin dúinn, a Thiarna, do trócaire agus tabhair do shlánú (“Show us, Lord, your mercy and grant us your salvation”).

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

And finally this marker over the grave of Bhrid Leainde, who passed away at the young age of 32 in 1959 and was followed by her husband Máirtín, who died at the age of 85 in 1987. I really like the sentiment expressed on this gravestone: Ó bhás go críoch ní críoch ach athfhas i bPárrthas na ngrast go rabhaimíd (“From death to an end not an end but new growth, we go to the Paradise of grace”).

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Though surrounded by reminders of the deaths of the famine years and by the ruins of churches and the graves they contain, I’m sure Bairbre’s and Peadar’s family, that Chóilín’s and Nora’s children, that Bhrid’s and Máirtín’s loved ones were not prepared for their deaths. No matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t. And yet we are sustained by faith, by the faith that assures us that death is not an end, but the beginning of new growth in a paradise of grace where, through the Lord’s mercy, we enjoy the fruits of salvation and sit at God’s right hand.

There is a poem by Máirtín Ó Direáin inscribed on a stone plaque dated August 2000 at Teampall Chaomháin on Inis Oírr. The plaque includes a verse of scripture (Is mise an t-aiséirí agus an bheatha – “I am the resurrection and the life”) and a prayer (Suaimhneas sioraí dar muintir a d’migh uainn – “Eternal peace to the people who have left us”). The poem is entitled Cuimhní Cinn (“Memories”). I’ve tried to find a translation, but failing that have translated it myself.

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Their memory still lives in my mind:
A white jacket and a bright shirt,
a blue shirt and a green vest,
trousers and drawers of homespun;
our honored old men
traveling to Sunday morning Mass,
a long journey on foot
wakening in my youth my own thoughts:
our ground, our earth, still our blessing.

Their memory still lives in my mind:
Long red choir robes,
blue coats dyed with indigo,
neat knitting women
now in heavy shawls up from Galway
traveling to Mass in the same way;
and although they are going out of fashion
their memory still lives in my mind.
Certainly life will come to me from this land.

Earl’s memory lives in my mind – a tweed sport coat, a purple shirt, two canes, a bushy beard, and ready smile. We knew this was coming, but no matter how prepared for death we believe we are, we aren’t. Being in community, traveling together to Mass memories alive in everyone’s minds, helps us get through that unpreparedness. I’m sorry I can’t be there with our church community to say “Good bye”.

May he rest in peace and rise in glory.

Category: Ireland (Page 4 of 6)

Snoring, Gardening, and Prayer

Circles of Protection: The Dúns and Cahers of Ireland, and the Christian Community

Experiment with Facebook Photos

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part Two

Two Monastic Foundations (Co. Wicklow) – Part One

So Much To Write About (Part 2)

So Much To Write About!

Places Visited Recently – Pending Posts

Chronos and Kairos and the Search for Answers

Memories and Good-Byes

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