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Living with the Desert Fathers and Mothers |
I am a collector of obscure saints. Every
now and again I unearth a new one and bring it like a bright eyed labrador to
the attention of my wife. A little while back I became fascinated by the
Anglo-Saxon St. Guthlac. I do feel slightly nervous about writing about Guthlac
here in the context of Wales because he spent much of his early manhood
fighting and killing Welshmen... but he did grow tired of this 'cymrucidal'
life and went to a monastery. Yet even here he was not at peace, the other
monks didn't like him, finding him rather too keen and zealous especially
because he refused to drink alcohol. Now, he lived in the middle of England so
he didn't have mountains to escape to, but instead found an island in the
middle of the fen lands where he lived the life of a hermit, obscure and remote
and many people even until modern times, considered him slightly mad. But in
the obscure wilderness of the Fens he learned wisdom and insight and became a
counselor of Kings and advisor of bishops. Now he is remembered in a few
churches in the surrounding counties but is largely forgotten.
PilgrimageOut of North Walsham on a gray dayOver the streaming traffic of the A149 Past Aylsham, the road windy, turning slow corners Stuck for a while behind a skip. We travel across Norfolk on a B road Through villages and small towns straddling the way To South Elham where there are signs to a Saxon Cathedral We motor past But turn off to Castle Acre and the Cluniac Priory The sky heavy, low, gray as if it were dusk already We stop The place is deserted but for a solitary man walking his dog Scrabbling over the gate we wander past chestnut trees to the old flint walls Here is the Abbey Church Here the Prior's house Here the Infirmary Hear the Latrine with stream adroitly redirected In the distance dog walkers stroll through the marsh Returning to the car we set off for the Fens, the sky still heavy as death. Guthlac stayed two years in a monastery before entering the Fens, for us 20 minutes must suffice. We drive north to Great Massingham to see the old house of grandparents The garden is overgrown. The carport needs painting So on past Kings Lynn Around Wisbech All the time the light dying At Guy Hirn we pass an Adult Superstore. Now the land ceases to roll and is entirely flat In the distance lines of trees, orange lights We drive over what was once all water Through the straight street of Thorney Then turn onto the road for Crowland. The earth is black The ditches deep And when we turn to cross the car swings on a sharp bend This flatness is unnerving How could you live here? Then out of the grayness a new road roars And crossing its river of lights we enter the town Turn left. Turn right. Round a corner And the church, floodlit, startles us It looms over the flat land like a beached angel To the right the climbing ruins of the Old Nave The church now inhabits the North Aisle It is a warm place the Church of Mary, Bartholomew and St. Guthlac. At the altar, after Communion, I linger And then, seeking toilets, we find display boards telling Guthlac's story And we talk with the vicar An American from Georgia via Turkey. Outside it is dark I pause before the edifice where Guthlac's prayers grew And we return home, into the black night. Waterlands-- a meditation for St. Guthlac's dayNow we live in waterlands in uncertain places where change is always changing and sea coming, going and river falling, rising We would prefer Dyke Wall Sea defences set in concrete Boundary Clean lines But earth advances and retrenches Leaves slime of mud Detritus of sand The Borderland Where time lives in unsolid earth And so, also, is Spirit and Flesh Here in the Thin Damp place They merge, kiss, embrace Become one And bring life Just as sandpipers prod mud, And crabs grab rock pools St. Guthlac PrayerSt. Guthlac pray for meHoly Melangell pray for me Pega, Godric, Cuthbert pray for me All holy hermits pray for me All holy men All holy women Saints of the Saxons Saints of the Welsh pray for me For I am alone and I need the help of the Holy One Be with me in my distress Oh holy saints of God Oh holy hermits of swamp and fen, forest and mountain, sea and islands, be with me Help me, comfort me Lift me to the throne of God that I may see him face to face and receive His love, His grace, His healing touch St. Guthlac pray for me Holy Melangell pray for me Pega, Godric, Cuthbert pray for me A prayer for St. Guthlac‘s daySt. Guthlac April 14 (also the anniversary of Evening Prayer for Stoke Newington)This Guthlac‘s day we remember: all seekers after freedom all who abandon violence for faith all who commit themselves entirely to the hunger for God And we pray to the God of the wild places, and of the street, and of the park, and of the church: that we may overcome the dark forces within or without which seek destruction that we may find our own 'wild place' in which to encounter the living God and that we may receive that same Spirit which Guthlac received to strengthen us and make the world whole And we thank God for the fenlands and wetlands of this world, praying for their flourishing as havens for the wild and free for the example of spiritual warriors like Guthlac who inspire us and share their wisdom with all who seek it and we thank you for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes! So God preserve to us the memory of Guthlac as we walk through the wilderness of this world with questions seeking and heart's longing, that we, like him, may live the promise of your wild peace. |