Tag Archives: celtic

The Celtic Hearth – epicenter of community and spirituality

The hearth is the heart of the Celtic home. There is a very old tradition of burning turf, or dried earth, for warmth and cooking in the hearth. The hearth also serves as a gathering place for community, family, and friends, a fact that may hint at a link between two Gaelic words: teallach (“hearth”) and teallagh (“family”).

The hearth is a place where stories are told. It is a place where the family traditionally gathers befre the start of a day and at the day’s conclusion. From the sound of the fiddle to the giggles of children listening to old family stories, from the hot water of a boiling teakettle splattering on stones to a fresh loaf of bannock bread beng pulled fro the fire: the hearth is a hub of activity in the Celtic world, ancient and modern.

In the Celtic tradition the hearth is the heart of the family, both biological and spiritual. Traditionally, the hearth is a site where the Celtic family gathers for both physical nourishment (for cooking and eating) and for spiritual nourishment (in the form of story telling, spiritual teaching, prayer, and healing). It is widely understood in the Celtic world that the hearth is a sacred place. It is a practical, yet spiritual, epicenter of Celtic culture. In essence, with the nourishment of the soul through spiritual practice at the hearth, we see very clearly John Scotus Eriugena‘s notion of the spiritual cosmos of the human being in the Celtic hearth tradition. Heaven and earth are enjoined in this single place within the home. Nourishment of the body and nourishment of the soul become interconnected; a spiritual cosmos is born and sustained.

- Frank MacEowen, The Mist-Filled Path: Celtic Wisdom for Exiles, Wanderers, and Seekers

The Celtic Martyrs

In similar thought with my last post about martyrdom and whether emergents can be called martyrs, I have found the Celtic Christians’ (some of the first emerging Christians) perspective on martyrdom to be one of great interest and perhaps offering some insight into our current culture. I just finished How the Irish Saved Civilization, by Thomas Cahill, and have found some good summaries in Sun Dancing, by Geoffrey Moorhouse.

Ireland is unique in religious history for being the only land into which Christianity was introduced without bloodshed. There are no Irish martyrs… And this lack of martyrdom troubled the Irish, to whom a glorious death by violence presented such an exciting finale.. If all Ireland had received Christianity without a fight, the Irish would just have to think up some new form of martyrdom…

The Irish of the late fifth and early sixth centuries soon found a solution, which they called the Green Martyrdom, opposing it to the conventional Red Martyrdom by blood. The Green Martyrs were those who, leaving behind the comforts and pleasures of ordinary human society, retreated to the woods, or to a mountaintop, or to a lonely island… there to study the scriptures and commune with
God. (Cahill)

They didn’t go alone however. Most often went with twelve others, also remaining available to those who seek insight, instruction and baptism. As more began to stay these hermitages gave way to what many know as the monastery. The monasteries, centers of learning, writing, and languages, preserved much of what was lost as the Western empire was collapsing.

Green martyrdom, however, failed, “both because of the apparently unquenchable Irish tendency to sociability and, perhaps even more important, because of the natural fertility of Ireland itself, which possessed nothing resembling an Egyptian desert…” (Cahill)

With the monk, Columcille, a new martyrdom began in order to reach continental Europe with the gospel. Monks setting off in boats
doing the hardest thing an Irishman could do, a much harder thing than giving up his life: he was leaving Ireland. If Green Martyrdom had failed, here was a martyrdom that was surely the equal of the Red; and henceforth, all who followed Columcille’s lead were called to the
White Martyrdom, they who sailed into the white sky of morning, into the unknown, never to return. (Cahill)

It was in this way that Christianity was revived in Europe.

So that leaves us with today’s emerging church. Are some of them martyrs? False martyrs? Is everything according to traditional orthodoxy? When was any movement completely in line with traditional orthodoxy? Only time will tell as to what difference is made through those of us who are seeking to live out our faith in a way that seems more authentic for us in this day and age.


The time between times

…It was the fullness of time that the ancient Celts grabbed on to when they talked about the “time between times.” I suppose in my own life, these are the most profound moments. The time between times was always at dawn and at dusk. They believed it was at these times that the veil between the spiritual world and the physical world (the Otherworld and ours) was at its thinnest. There was a deep mystery during these times… one that you could almost reach out and grab… that you could breathe.

Maybe you’ve experienced it yourself… it probably depends on whether you are a morning or a night person… for me it has been in the mornings. I used to go for walks in the morning when I was at college in MN. It was especially on the wet days… fog… drizzle… sometimes with the snow… a hush in the trees. The animals waking up. A rustle over there. A bird, unseen, up in the trees. Haunting almost. But very deep and old. It was during these moments that time seemed to stand still… and I moved through it. There are so many questions that this brings up for me.

What is it about these times… the waking up and the going down. The stirring and the settling in. The rising and the falling. Movement moments. How is it that that the Spirit of God seems so alive in these times? What does it tell me about my own life and when the most valuable moments are? What am I doing during these incredibly rich times? Am I tuning in or am I tuning out?

The Warrior type

I diverge from my thoughts on community, with thoughts on the warrior in some of us. My friend, Bonny, from MN, had a post about the warrior in her daughter. She asks the question, are fierce warrior types ever aware of their presence or status?

As one who is beginning to see|recognize|give life to the warrior in myself, I left the follow thoughts.

I think we become into a deeper realization of the warrior in us. When we begin to realize that this is us, new meaning seeps into our life, sometimes floods. I think though that the challenge of the warrior is to hone and develop the character to “war” and “battle” in constructive ways. We are not necessarily recognized by those around us… until we find those who speak our language and can go to battle with us.

The warrior… some of us have it in us. It makes us fight, tooth, claw, and nail, for the things we love. It gives our lives an epic feel… a sense that there is a deeper purpose to our lives, and if we do not pursue that we are less than the men and women we are made to be. We go into our lives with our heads held high and our mission before us. And at the end of the day… the question we ask ourselves is not, “Did I have fun?” but “Did I do what I was supposed to do?”

It’s strange for me to claim the warrior in myself, being one who is apposed to violence, war, and anger. And yet, in the midst of my very contemplative personality, I can say that still there is a strong warrior inside. I have begun to identify more and more this character inside me as I have delved more deeply into the Celtic story. Thanks to Stephen Lawhead for the many ongoing years of foundation.

I realize that we are indeed called to battle of a kind. We are reminded by Paul that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” We ARE called to battle… but as Greg Boyd puts it so well, when we bring the battle to other humans, we are fighting the wrong enemy. I do not see that fighting hate with hate, death with death, fear with fear, is the way of the true warrior. To love is to drive out fear. It is this I battle for.

And for the daily need for battle and hunger for victory… well, there is always a competition to be had. For me, it’s the tennis, the board games, the mountain biking, the log splitting, the ranch work, and the study. Victory, even defeat, when found in constructive ways, has never felt so good.

Questions on Pilgrimage

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To journey without being change is to be a nomad.

To change without journeying is to be a chameleon.

To journey and be transformed by the journey is to be a pilgrim. ~Mark Nepo

I’ve been reading the latest issue of Hungry Hearts, which is dedicated to the pilgrimage… to journeying. I am left with many, many thoughts.

There is something central to human existence in the journey… the pilgrimage… even the road trip (I’m reminded of the movie, Elizabethtown). Unfortunately, we have lost, to a great extent, the significance in the midst of our busy, money-making, car-using lives. We drive around here and there in our own little worlds, listening to our own music, imagining that no one can touch us. Traveling, unless done cross-country, is far less significant than it perhaps could be.

I have not done a pilgrimage to any traditional holy places on this planet… Ireland, Jerusalem, Southeast Asia…. although there are plans and dreams for me of a journey to the sacred places in Celtic history. I do, though, know what it is like to be on a journey, to be transformed by that journey, knowing that the destination of travel is not the purpose, but the act of being on the journey itself is the destination and arrival. It is in this understanding that we arrive… to a place of being that is always, yet not yet, arriving.

Sometimes a hike in the morning… the warming sun causing a steam on the grass, with the slight cool breeze twisting and turning it… the birds waking, singing their morning song, while the squirrels rustle in the leaves… knowing the place I long to stumble upon, the place where prayer happens and I can sit and listen. This is a pilgrimage. Sometimes, a mountain bike ride… not so many sounds other than my bike and my own grunts and gasping for air… the burn of my lungs and the pounding of my heart… vision blurred as I encounter the next thing in front of me… yet knowing that I long for the summit, where I can finally go downhill, making for a totally different ride… A pilgrimage.

My question is this: What is it about the journey, the pilgrimage, that touches the core of our being? Where does the journey meet you?

Pilgrims often journey to the ends of the earth in search of holy ground, only to find that they have never walked on anything else. ~Scott Russell Sanders – Staying Put