Thursday, June 9th was the feast day of St Columba, one of the great sons of the Irish Church. Born in Gartan, Co Donegal in 521, he came under the influence of leading church figures such as St Finnian and played an important role in promoting the monastic tradition in Ireland which gave us a Celtic church with its own distinctive character and customs and a measure of independence.
Columba left Ireland circa 563 AD following, it is said, a violent conflict. He settled on the island of Iona where he created the monastic community that would play a major role evangelising Scotland and the north of England. He would have felt at home on Iona because from at least the 5th to the 9th century, there was a Gaelic Kingdom of Dalriada, (Dál Riada) comprising parts of northeast Ireland and much of the Inner Hebrides and Argyll, in Scotland. Ulster Gaels had been colonising the west coast of Scotland in previous centuries and it is even thought that Iona might have been given him by the King of Dalriada. Those historic links between Ulster and Scotland are interesting given the current controversies about identity and borders on and around this island.
Columba, like us, lived in unsettled times but it is clear from his writings that he had a strong, simple faith that enabled him to feel secure irrespective of what was going on in the outside world. As someone living alone during the Covid lockdown I particularly valued words attributed to him which speak of his deep and personal sense of God’s presence especially when alone: “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?” (Church Hymnal 560)
During the Covid restrictions many experienced loneliness, cut off as they were from family, friends and work colleagues but as the American author Harry Cargas says in his book Encountering Myself being lonely and being alone are two different things. “The word lonely connotes isolation and dejection, a missed absence of companions when it is applied to persons. The root of alone, however, is in two words: all one. This means the opposite of isolation and dejection. The emphasis is not on the one but on the wholly one. It means complete by oneself. How many of us can actually feel that way? It is not easy to be full in oneself, to respect oneself, and to self-develop to such a degree that a person looks forward to long periods of being alone… (but)… for some who enjoy this oneness, they realise that because of their relationship with Christ they are never lonely. They cultivate the chances to be alone so that they can actually savour the moments with God alone, the moments when their unity with the creator can be both enjoyed and developed.” He goes on to suggest that the pace of modern life prevents us from engaging with our inner selves, resulting in a space in our lives which, according to St Augustine, only God can fill: “You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless, until they can find rest in you.”
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Covid had many negative sides especially for those who became ill or lost loved ones, but it also broke the cycle of busyness and provided an opportunity, at least for some, to reflect on what really matters. And people of faith, however simple that faith, were perhaps reminded that we are “never less alone than when alone”. St Columba again: “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…. The child of God can fear no ill, his chosen dread no foe; we leave our fate with thee, and wait thy bidding when to go. ‘Tis not from chance our comfort springs. thou art our trust, O King of kings.”