Columba and my calling.

A fierce dove racing in a fiercer gale

A fierce dove racing in a fiercer gale

June the 9th is Saint Columba’s day, a saint who has a special place for me, as somehow, he feels bound up in my own journey to Faith. When I was 19, and moving from  atheism, towards a greater spiritual openness, but by no means yet a Christian, I went for a long slow walk round Ireland. I went without a map because the Zen practice in which I was interested at the time, and on which I still draw in prayer, was always emphasizing ‘The map is not the reality”! You must utterly and absolutely be in the place you’re in, and let that place be what it is and teach what it has to teach without any overlay from your maps and preconceptions. So I took that literally and walked round Ireland without  a map, just keeping the sea on my left! One evening, St. John’s Eve it was, right at the end of my journey, I came round a headland at sunset into a beautiful little bay and inlet on the west coast in Donegal, just as the fires were being lit around the headlands for St. John’s Eve, and there was drinking and fiddle playing and dancing round the fires that evening. And I asked where I was, and they said Glencolmcille, and I felt a sudden quickening and sense of connection, as though a memory stirred. And they asked me my name and I said ‘Malcolm’, and they said, ‘Ah that is why you have come, because he has called you’, and I said ‘who?’ and they said ‘Colm has called you, Malcolm, for this is the place he fought his battle and gathered his disciples and from here he left for the white martyrdom and Scotland. And they told me the story of St. Columba, and the battle he had fought, of his repentance, his self-imposed exile, his journey with twelve disciples from this glen to Scotland where he founded the abbey of Iona from whence Scotland and much of the north of England was converted. ‘Of course he is calling you here’, they said, ‘for your name, in Gaelic means’ servant of Colm’, which is Columba. And as they spoke I remembered at last, right back into my childhood, how I had been told stories about this saint, and how I was named for him, and how my grandmother had published poems about him and sung her lullaby for the infant Columba over me as a child. I wandered down to the shore whence he had set sail and felt how thin the veil was, how something of heaven, whatever heaven might be, seemed to glimmer through the sky and the sea itself in this place. And I thought: ‘I’m not a Christian, and I don’t see how I could ever become one, but if I do ever become one, I’ll remember Columba and I’ll go to Iona and thank him’. Which I did, and I did. Now here’s my sonnet for the saint. This poem is now collected in my book The Singing Bowl from Canterbury Press which you can get on amazon, or better still, order from your local bookshop! Click on the title or the ‘play button to hear me read the poem!

I am happy to announce that I will soon be joining ship with a project called Navigators of Faith, which seeks prayerfully to recreate the voyages of the early Celtic saints including Columba. Read about it Here 

Columba

 You called me and I came to Colmcille

To learn at last the meaning of my name

Though you yourself were called, and not the caller,

He called through you and when He called I came.

Came to the edge at last, in Donegal,

Where bonfires burned and music lit the flame

As from the shore I glimpsed that ragged sail

The Spirit filled to drive you from your  home,

A fierce dove racing in a fiercer gale,

A swift wing flashing between sea and sky.

And with that glimpse I knew that I  would fly

And find you out and serve you for a season,

My heaven hidden like your native isle,

Though somehow glimmering on each horizon.

Glencolmcille, scene of a small epiphany

Glencolmcille, scene of a small epiphany

14 Comments

Filed under christianity, imagination

14 responses to “Columba and my calling.

  1. Erika Hoffmann

    A wonderful telling of your name, your calling – crowned with your beautiful sonnet. Thank you.

  2. Helen Glover

    Dear Tessa and Oliver, I hope you don’t mind me sending you this, an interesting story.

    It’s very humid here already. Yesterday we went to a Marche Gourmand, with Harry and Lynda. Very enjoyable. And did some gardening, lawn and roses. Did Oliver ever get to read Stephen Fry’s book on mythology from the library?

    Hope you are both well and enjoying life. Love Helen x

    Sent from my iPad

    >

  3. Thank you, Malcolm, for this beautiful commentary and poem. I have been following your blog for several years and enjoyed this post more than any other so far. Blessings be on you this St Columba’s day.

  4. Susan Ashmore

    A beautiful and perceptive story and a wonderful poetic resumé of it. Thank you very much Malcolm.

  5. Reblogged this on Pastor Michael Moore's Blog and commented:
    A beautiful poem for St Columba’s Feast Day… thank you, Malcolm ❤️

  6. Lynda Lineberry

    The Holy Spirit at work…

    Sent from my iPad

    >

  7. Lovely account, Malcolm. Almost finished the marvelous book written about him by Nigel Tranter. I didn’t get the connexion of the names, though. Makes it all the more interesting. Happy onomastico!

  8. That’s a lovely story, Malcolm. I love the fact that you came there unknowing but came all the same, and as it unfolded for you you felt known.

  9. Navigators of Faith looks forward to having you join us Malcolm. Today we crossed Corrywreckan whirlpool where once Columcille had a vision of a bishop approaching through the dangerous waters (according to Adamnan). He wrote..
    ‘(He) is in great danger in the rolling tides of the whirlpool of Brecan, and sitting in the prow, holds up both hands to heaven and also blesses that stormy and threatening sea; and yet the Lord is thus frightening him not that he is to be overwhelmed in the waves by the wreck of the ship in which he is sitting, but rather that he may be roused to pray more earnestly that God, being propitious, he may pass over to us after the danger is over.’

  10. You found the thin place in your own soul. There is a great deal to be said for a rustic, uncomplicated sense of spirit and history. Thank you for sharing this pivotal moment in your calling.

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