Duilisc before Carcair

Activist Christianity struggles to grasp this but, honestly, the work and worship of God transcends filled diaries. Look at this section from a wonderful old Celtic prayer-poem, attributed (possibly correctly in this case) to Columba;

At times kneeling to beloved Heaven -

At times psalm singing;

At times contemplating the King of Heaven

Holy the chief;

At times at work without compulsion

This would be delightful.

At times plucking duilisc from the rocks

At times at fishing;

At times giving food to the poor;

At times in a carcair:

The poem pictures a life devoted to God in which formal worship is offered at times to the Chief of Heaven. But there are also times to pluck duilisc.

Although beaches often feature in today's commercials the people on the beach are almost always running or jumping (or surfing, or horse-riding, or driving).  Even the sea edge has become a busy place in our society.

Columba, in common with all Celtic saints, knew that God would not be neglected by taking time to enjoy his handiwork. Thus we imagine the breezy summer Atlantic shoreline and a man in a habit plucking juicy seaweed (duilisc) from the rocks just because he can, and it's free, and God is there. Duilisc washes in on the tides from June to September; you won't get to pluck any in January even if you can stand upright on the windswept, gloomy, wave-lashed shore. Get plucking because there are also times in a carcair.

We don't know exactly what carcair meant for Columba. A carcair was a prison - it may have meant the enclosed hermitage or imprisonment by hostile communities. But either way it was a great loss of the freedom that the seaweed-plucker enjoys!

We are wise to remember how, a little further inland, the Lord said in his greatest discourse, 'Consider the lilies of the field how they grow'. He credited us with the intelligence to realise that such consideration would only happen by taking the opportunity while it blooms and before the carcair, or in his case the cross, at a time yet to be.

Columba

I'm still looking forward to 2011 but as so often happens even the first week has had its sadnesses.  The wise Columba realised that we need God in the whole circle of life:

My dearest Lord,

be a bright flame before me,

be a guiding star above me,

be a smooth path beneath me,

be a kindly shepherd behind me,

today and for ever more. Amen



Summer

August.

‘The cloakroom pegs are empty now and locked the classroom door’;

so begins Philip Larkins’ poem The School in August.

When school stops, it really stops. Yet when church activities stop (as they do in August in the UK), the greater purpose that they serve continues - it just continues in a different way. Look at this section from a wonderful old Celtic prayer-poem, attributed (possibly correctly in this case) to Columba;

At times kneeling to beloved Heaven

At times psalm singing;

At times contemplating the King of Heaven

Holy the chief;

At times at work without compulsion

This would be delightful.

At times plucking duilisc from the rocks

At times at fishing;

At times giving food to the poor;

At times in a carcair:

The poem pictures a life devoted to God in which formal worship is offered at times to the Chief of Heaven. But there are also times to pluck duilisc. Columba, in common with all Celtic saints, knew that God would not be neglected by taking time to enjoy his handiwork. Thus we imagine the breezy summer Atlantic shoreline and a man in a habit plucking juicy seaweed (duilisc) from the rocks just because he can, and it’s free, and God is there.

Duilisc washes in on the tides from June to September; you won’t get to pluck any in January even if you can stand upright on the windswept, gloomy, wave-lashed shore. Get plucking because there are also times in a carcair. We don’t know exactly what carcair meant in Columba's mind. A carcair was a prison - it may have meant the enclosed hermitage or imprisonment by hostile communities. But either way it was a loss of freedom that the seaweed-plucker enjoys!

We are wise to remember how, a little further inland, the Lord said in his greatest discourse, ‘Consider the lilies of the field how they grow’. He credited us with the intelligence to realise that such consideration would only happen by taking the opportunity while it blooms and the carcair, or in his case the cross, belongs to a time yet to be.