PILGRIMS FOR PEACE
Even non-believers can revel in the tranquility and history to be found at holy sites, writes Cornelius Kelly
VISITING religious sites around the world might not be everyone’s cup of tea. But even confirmed atheists might be surprised to discover that they too can enjoy the peace and solace to be found at sacred places.
A nonbeliever myself, I have over the years visited many holy sites and enjoyed their unique and calming atmosphere.
One of the most memorable of these pilgrimages was a journey to Iona several summers ago. A tiny coral island in Scotland’s Inner Hebrides, Iona was the first place to which Irish monks, led by Saint Columcille, took Christianity in the sixth century. From here it spread to the Scottish mainland, England and the European continent.
After Columcille’s death, Iona continued to be an important monastic settlement. For centuries it has been a pilgrimage destination and a place for those seeking eternal rest. Many of Scotland’s early kings are buried here as well as kings of Ireland, Norway and France. The Book of Kells, the most famous of Ireland’s illuminated manuscripts, was written here. When the Vikings descended on the British Isles, it was taken to Iona’s sister monastery at Kells, Ireland, for safekeeping.
To get to Iona, we took a ferry from Oban to Mull. After a twohour scenic drive across Mull’s stark landscape on single-track roads, we took the ferry across the 3km sound that separates Iona from Mull. Knowing that Iona attracts many day-trippers, we decided to book a two-night stay at the Argyll Hotel, a small establishment in Baile Mor, the island’s only town.
Though we found the day-trippers did little to spoil the idyllic atmosphere, the peace of evening did indeed “come dropping slow” when the last ferry of the day departed.
That first evening, after an excellent meal prepared with organic vegetables from the Argyll’s garden, we strolled through the deserted ruins of the 14th-century nunnery. Next day we visited the abbey, which was built in the 13th century and closed by Henry VIII in the 16th.
By the 1930s, the abbey had become a picturesque ruin when George McLeod, a Church of Scotland minister, and a group of unemployed artisans set up a nondenominational community here. They restored the building and today the cloister bears witness to their labours, with capitals in weathered granite alternating with others that have a distinctly ArtDeco look. This was the beginning of the Iona Community, which survives to this day.
What distinguishes Iona from other destinations are the diversions it offers. Though there are no souvenir shops or bazaars, there are several small chapels where one can pause for a few minutes of quiet solitude. And alhough I came for the history, it was the contemplative atmosphere of the island that I enjoyed most.
Another sacred site that retains its aura of spirituality is Skellig Michael, a towering rock located 12km off the southwest coast of Ireland. In the 6th century, monks set up a monastery here and built a collection of beehive huts of corbelled stone in the saddle atop the steep, vertiginous rocky islet. There, cut off from the world, these brave souls survived on fish, bird eggs and what vegetables they could coax from the shallow patches of soil between the crags. Today, Skellig Michael is just one of two Unesco World Heritage sites in Ireland (the other is Brú na Bóinne in County Meath).
To reach Skellig Michael, a group of friends and I set off early one morning from Balinskelligs in County Kerry on a choppy sea. Within minutes, most of us on board were seasick and turning green. An hour later (and only halfway there), our skipper informed us that it was unlikely that he could get us on the island, which meant our ordeal would have been for nought. However, we pressed on and as we approached the island, conditions changed dramatically and we moved into a different weather system. Our skipper did manage to get us on shore and, blessed with warm sunshine, we began the challenging hike up the narrow stone stairs without the benefit of a handrail. When we reached the top, our group was rewarded with warm gentle breezes and unsurpassed ocean views.
On the return journey, the good
I return to experience the cloistered life of quiet and contemplation
weather held and the smooth seas and warm sun felt as if we were sailing the Mediterranean. But the roughness of the outward journey had allowed us to experience something of that sense of uncertainty and then deliverance the monks must have felt when they rowed across in their frail, hide-covered boats.
Every year I spend part of the summer in Casentino, a relatively undiscovered valley in the mountains east of Florence, Italy. And without fail, each summer I visit La Verna, a Franciscan friary perched, in Dante’s words, on “that rugged rock ‘twixt Tiber and Arno”. Here, overlooking the verdant Tuscan hills, can be found the cave where St Francis is said to have received the stigmata. Francis, a native of Assisi, had renounced the life of an aristocrat for one of poverty. In 1224, with three companions, he made his way to this remote spot to fast and pray.
Whether I come alone or with friends, the journey usually starts at Bibbiena. As the narrow road snakes upwards, the climate and flora change perceptibly. The temperature at La Verna is usually several degrees colder than the valley below — a welcome relief from the intense heat of the Italian summer.
Though not as well known as Assisi, La Verna is today a pilgrimage site for Christians, especially for those who revere St Francis. The complex includes the friary, church, museum and several small chapels. An air of peace prevails here as a rule of silence is imposed, though not always strictly observed. The reason I keep returning here is to sit quietly in the basilica and marvel at the perfectly preserved Della Robbia ceramics and to walk the cool, silent cloisters.
With friends, I come to picnic in the shady woods or walk the many secluded trails. But the main reason I return is to be able, if only for a short time, to experience the cloistered life of quiet and contemplation.
Such holy places take us back to a time when pilgrims and travellers were one and the same. These sites were established by people seeking peace, quiet and contemplation and that air of spirituality still lingers today. Because these sites don’t have the hustle and bustle that spoil so many other tourist destinations, visiting them offers travellers something different. It provides a chance to escape the noisy throngs and experience for themselves the tranquility that brought these fearless pilgrims here so many centuries ago. Even nonbelievers may be tempted to believe. — © Cornelius Kelly