The Morning Is Yours

Almighty God, Creator:
the morning is yours, rising into fullness.
The summer is yours, dipping into autumn.
Eternity is yours, dipping into time.
The vibrant grasses, the scent of flowers,
the lichen on the rocks, the tang of seaweed.
All are yours.
Gladly we live in this garden of your creating.

But creation is not enough.
Always in the beauty, the foreshadowing of decay.
The lambs frolicking careless:
so soon to be led off to slaughter.
Nature red and scarred as well as lush and green.
In the garden also:
always the thorn. Creation is not enough.

Almighty God, Redeemer;
the sap of life in our bones and being is yours,
lifting us to ecstasy.
But always in the beauty:
the tang of sin, in our consciences.
The dry lichen of sins long dead, but seared upon our minds.
In the garden that is each of us,
always the thorn.

Yet all are yours as we yield them again to you.
Not only our lives that you have given are yours:
but also our sins that you have taken.
Even in our livid rebellions and putrid sins:
you have taken them all away
and nailed them to the Cross!
Our redemption is enough: and we are free.

Holy Spirit, Enlivener:
breathe on us, fill us with life anew;
In your new creation, already upon us,
breaking through, groaning and travailing,
but already breaking through,
breathe on us.

Till that day when night and autumn vanish
and lambs grown sheep are no more slaughtered:
and even the thorn shall fade
and the whole earth shall cry Glory
at the marriage feast of the Lamb.
In this new creation, already upon us,
fill us with life anew.


--George Macleod (1895-1991), Church of Scotland, founder of the Iona Community

Iona Invitation to Communion 5

This table does not belong to any denomination,

church or community.
It belongs to Jesus.
It was at table that he met people,
heard their stories and shared his.
It was at table that he deepened his friendship
with poor folk and prostitutes,
the business class and puzzled bystanders.
It was at table that he shared profound insights
into who God is and what God wants.
And it was at table, with bread and wine,
that he initiated the sacrament we now celebrate.
So come to this table.
Leave behind any baggage of arrogance or unworthiness.
Do not think, ‘This is not for me.’
Think rather of Jesus saying, ‘I am for you,’
and accept his invitation to be the friend
he cherishes and longs to feed.

--from the Iona Community

Iona Invitation to Communion 4

We are here because Jesus has called us –

strangers and friends,
locals and visitors,
believers and doubters,
the certain and the curious.
It is always a mixed company that Jesus gathers
and invites to his table where, in bread and wine,
he meets us
and through him we, who are different,
are joined to each other.
So come,
not because you understand,
but because you are understood.
Come,
not because of how you feel,
but because God has food for you.
Come, not because you deserve a place,
but because Jesus invites you,
just as you are.

- from the Iona Community

Iona Invitation to Communion 3

As Jesus broke bread,
we break this bread.
As Jesus shared wine
we share this cup.

-- Iona Community

Iona Invitation to Communion 2

Take this bread, share this wine.

In these Christ comes to us
with love from God.
The gifts of God for the people of God.

-- From the Iona Community

Iona Invitation to Communion

Come, not because you are strong 

but because you are weak.

Come, not because of any goodness of your own,

but because you need mercy and help.

Come, because you love the Lord a little 

and would like to love him more.

Come, because he loves you 

and gave himself for you.

--George McLeod, from the Iona Community

Honestly

I have searched for God
in the dry echo of tall stone buildings
where the laws are written upon the walls.

I have found God
in the broken bread of light across the moorland,
as it silvers from the miracle of the earth.


--Kenneth Steven, Scots poet, from Iona: New and Selected Poems (Paraclete poetry)

Finding

It is not about going on a particular night in the knowledge of finding a foal;
it is the chance of it, the perhaps – the making of time to try.
The struggling up at three in the morning in the strangeness of the dark
to get ready in soft voices; the going out into the fields on padded feet,
no longer worrying about what tasks have been completed, which left undone.
It is about walking together leaving silvery trails, uneven, through long lush grass;
about coming at last to the place where you hoped it might happen,
for some things are not certain – in this world where almost everything
is written down and long decided – and always it has been that way.
This water meadow where there is always scent of something not quite known;
a bowl made of low hills and round it the ancient trees held in the still dark.
However many yards away the foal already trying to hobble onto legs ridiculously big,
and she pouring into him all the love that she possesses.
Unselfconsciously and with reverence
it is about kneeling in the long wet grass to watch, to wonder.

--Kenneth Steven, Scots poet, from Iona: New and Selected Poems (Paraclete Poetry).

Prayer for the Journey

Alone with none but thee, my God

I journey on my way.
What need I fear, when thou art near
O king of night and day?
More safe am I within thy hand
Than if an host didst round me stand.

-- St Columba (c.521-597) of Iona, whose feast day is today.

Lenten Communion Invitation from Iona

Like a tent in the wilderness 

the table of God stands open and ready 

as a place of sanctuary and safety, 

of hospitality and healing. 

So come, 

all you who are tired and travel-stained, 

footsore and famished; 

come with your fellow travellers 

and find companionship and comfort; 

for here, Jesus – 

who knows what it is to wander, watch and wrestle 

in desert places – 

waits to meet us and welcome us in, 

offering us rest and restoration, 

solace and strength, 

for the journey still to come.

-- Pat Bennet, from Walking the Wilderness: A Communion Liturgy for the Season of Lent (pdf purchased from Wild Goose Publications)

Prayer of St. Columba

Let me bless Almighty God,
Whose power extends over sea and land,
Whose angels watch over all.
Let me study sacred books to calm my soul.
I pray for peace,
Kneeling at heaven’s gates.
Let me do my daily work,
Gathering seaweed, catching fish,
Giving food to the poor.
Let me say my daily prayers,
Sometimes chanting, sometime quiet,
Always thanking God.
Delightful it is to live
On a peaceful isle, in a quiet cell,
Serving the King of Kings.

--St. Columba of Iona (521-597), Irish monastic, abbot, and missionary to the Picts in Scotland

The beautiful image is from a card I received from the artist, Kreg Yingst, who makes amazing religious prints at his shop, wORKINGaRTS, found on Etsy.

The Stone of Witness

 

Joshua said to all the people, 
“See, this stone shall be a witness against us; 
for it has heard all the words of the Lord that he spoke to us… "- Joshua 24:27a

 

This pale stone from St. Columba’s Bay
had lain beneath pilgrim feet for a thousand years before
singing its way to my notice; its delicate web of
fine green tracings draws the eye into the stone, its heft
surprising for a marble-cool thumbprint. Glossy
and silky to the touch, it bears witness

to the caress of tides and the melancholy
wandering of saints. What prayers has it heard
from all who have passed this way—what prayers
can I whisper to it as it slides between my fingers?

Two billion years it tumbled
to the ebb and flow of windswept tide.
From its holy home it now resides
in my pocket most days, a traveler and thus a stranger,
honed by the caress of the sea.

 

And now I recognize the toddler wisdom
in filling one’s pockets
with treasures from the ground: they witness
to the loving embrace of this Earth
carrying us tenderly around the Sun, grounding us
in wonder and awe, bearing testimony
to the holiness arching up beneath our feet.

-- Leslie Barnes Scoopmire, first published at Episcopal Journal's Speaking to the Soul on July 28, 2022.

The Path I Walk

The path I walk, Christ walks it.
May the land in which I am in be without sorrow.
May the Trinity protect me wherever I stay, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Bright angels walk with me - dear presence - in every dealing.
In every dealing I pray them that no one's poison may reach me.
The ninefold people of heaven of holy cloud, the tenth force of the stout earth.
Favorable company, they come with me, so that the Lord may not be angry with me.
May I arrive at every place, may I return home; made the way in which I spend be a way without loss.
May every path before me be smooth, may woman and child welcome me.
A truly good journey! Well does the fair Lord show us a course, a path.


-- Attributed to Saint Columba (521-597 CE), Irish missionary and saint, founder of Iona Abbey

Monday Prayers (For Beginnings)

At every beginning
bless our dreaming
and our doing.

This day (week, month, year) lies before us,
full of the mundane and the miraculous,
the known and the unknown.

Be the breath we take before each step.
Be the source from which we draw strength.
Be the end toward which we direct our hope.

Open our eyes to all that is around us.
Open our ears to the song the soul yearns to sing.
Open our hearts to the love that lives through us,
Open our hands to the task the moment requires.

Let us do the one thing,
the thing before us,
as if all creation
and out very life
depend upon it,

as if You are bent over,
watching and listening
and willing us
to do it well.

--Carla A. Grosch-Miller,  from Psalms Redux: Poems and Prayers, 2017

Prayer of Thanksgiving for Columba

Columba of

the rocks and roots and rolling waves,

of rain-drenched earth, changing skies and empty horizons,

of coming home and moving on.

Columba of

the music of wind and seabird cries,

the poetry of wild geese and lowing cattle,

the vision of sharing bread and stories.

Columba

man of solitude and simplicity,

community and compassion,

soul friend.

We celebrate with gratitude and hope

your being and openness

to the blessedness of all things.

Columba who saw the blessing of beauty

and Iona as a light for all times,

with you

we weep

for depths of poverty

and pinnacles of wealth;

for hostility, impersonality,

suffering, indifference,

and all that harms people

and all living things.

With you

we laugh

for humaity's raucous energy

and generosity of spirit;

for angels, smiling faces

and all that heals people.

We celebrate with gratitude and hope

your being and your openness

to the blessedness of all things.

Because of imagination, legend and prayer,

because of love and grace,

no act is inconsequential

and no story without significance.

In our knowing and unknowing;

in the quiet held within

that is Columba's vision and forever Iona,

we hold memories, remembrance,

and the whisperings

of a people's pride.

We hold out for others

the poet's bread

and the people's poetry.

We celebrate with gratitude and hope

the holiness of being

and the blessedness of all things.

--Joy Mead, from In The Gift of This New Day: Praying With the Iona Community, edited by Neil Paynter, 2015

Image: Stained glass window from Iona Abbey

Columba's Affirmation

Alone with none but Thee, My God,
I journey on my way;
What need I fear when Thou art near,
O King of night and day?
More safe I am within Thy hand,
Than if a host did round me stand.

My destined time is fixed by Thee,
and death doth know his hour.
Did warriors strong around me throng,
they could not stay his power;
no walls of stone can man defend
when Thou Thy messenger dost send.

My life I yield to Thy decree,
and bow to Thy control
in peaceful calm, for from Thine arm
no power can wrest my soul.
Could earthly omen e'er appal
A man that heeds the heavenly call!

The child of God can fear no ill,
His chosen dread no foe;
we leave our fate with Thee and wait
Thy bidding when we go.
Tis not from chance our comfort springs,
Thou art our trust, O King of kings.

--St. Columba, from A Celtic Psaltery, compiled by David Adam, 2001

The Protecting God

Lord, be with us this day,
Within us to purify us;
Above us to draw us up;
Beneath us to sustain us;
Before us to lead us;
Behind us to restrain us;
Around us to protect us.

--St. Patrick, from A Celtic Psaltery, 2001, compiled by David Adam

St. Columba at Iona

Delightful it would be
From a rock pinnacle to trace
Continually
The Ocean's face:
That I might watch the heaving waves
Of noble force
To God the Father chant their staves
Of the earth's course.
That I might mark the level strand,
To me no less distress,
That I might mark the sea-bird's wondrous band-
Sweet source of happiness.
That I might hear the clamorous billows thunder
On the rude beach.
That by my blessed church side I might ponder
Their mighty speech.
Or watch surf-flying gulls the dark shoal follow
With joyous scream,
Or mighty ocean monsters spout and wallow,
Wonder supreme!
That I might well observe the ebb and flood
All cycles therein;
And that my mystic name might be for good
But 'Cul-ri. Erin.'
That gazing toward her on my heart might fall
A full contrition,
That I might bewail my evils all,
Though hard the addition;
That I might bless the Lord who all things orders
For their good.
The countless hierarchies through heaven's bright borders-
Land, strand, and flood/
That I might search all books and from their chart
Find my soul's calm.
Now kneel before the Heaven of my heart,
Now chant a psalm;
Now meditate upon the King of heaven,
Chief of the Holy Three;
Now ply my work by no compulsion driven
What greater joy could be?
Now plucking dulse from rocky shore,
Now fishing eager on,
Now furnishing food unto famished poor;
In hermitage anon:
The guidance of the King of kings
Has been vouchsafed to me;
If I keep watch beneath his wings
No evil shall undo me.

--Alfred P. Graves (1846-1931), Irish poet, from A Celtic Psaltery, 1917

All Labourers' Helper

All labourers' helper,
Blessed men's ruler,
Chief ramparts' warder,
Deep faith's defender,
Each small man's lifter,
Fashion-plates' humbler,
Great navigator,
Heretic crusher,
Just judges' judger,
Keen sinners' punisher,
Light of good-livers,
Man's sanctifier,
O endless giver,
Perfect in vigour,
Quicken my prayer:
Receive it, Master,
So, though I am no braver
Than the weakest rower
Under loud thunder's
Violent clamour,
Welcome me to the Father's
X- Christ the Kepper's
Yearned-for-Cros,, Saviour,
Zealously may you conquer.
     Per dominum nostrum
     Forever and ever.

-- attributed to St. Columba, translated from Latin, from Iona: An Anthology

God of All

Our God is the God of all,
the God of heaven and earth,
of the sea and of the river;
The God of the sun and of the moon and of all the stars;
The God of the lofty mountains
and of the lowly valleys.
He has his dwelling around heaven and earth,
and sea, and all that in them is.
He inspires all,
He gives life to all,
He dominates all,
He supports all.
He lights the light of the sun.
He furnishes the light of the night.
He has made springs in dry land...
He is the God of heaven and earth,
of sea and rivers,
of sun, moon, and stars,
of the lofty mountain and the lowly valley,
the God above heaven,
and in heaven,
and under heaven.

-- St. Patrick, from A Celtic Psaltery, compiled by David Adam