Thursday I arrived at the Dublin airport, loaded my rental car with bicycle and baggage, and, with a short stop to visit a friend at Adelaide Road, made my way to Carlow. I was greeted graciously by one of the church members and ushered into my home for the next two months, the manse (pastor’s house). Tomorrow (Tuesday) I will pick Nancy up at the airport in Dublin, return here and we will be together for the adventure of the summer. In the next days/weeks/months I will fill this blog with the doings, joys and challenges of ministry and life in this Irish town, but first a P.S. to the month I spent in Greensboro between Mexico and here.

I have already written about the church Nancy and I have started attending, and the wonderful spirit and attitude which we have found there—in the whole church and in particular in the young adults’ class. I had the privilege of leading the class for a month, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I have mentioned their Stimulus Movement initiative, challenging people to use the money received from the government in the form of an economic stimulus check for needs beyond their own family. In regards to that a potluck was held and about a dozen people and organizations presented their rationale for receiving some of the funds donated—it was quite an evening of committed people and valuable organizations. The congregation is now voting on which of these needs to support, and the money collected will be distributed accordingly. What a great idea!

Another blessing to Nancy and me was to be called forward my last Sunday and prayed for. New members were being welcomed into the church, and we were asked the same questions that they were asked, and then commissioned to go and serve. A very high percentage of the people at Oak Ridge Presbyterian Church have gone on mission trips, mostly to Chiapas, Mexico, and to each is given a bandana as a symbol of the sending church and the mission they are doing. Nancy and I received bandanas along with prayer, and I wore the bandana this past Sunday here in Carlow, and told them of the prayers for us and for them from Oak Ridge, North Carolina. A tangible expression of the universality and connectionalism of the body of Christ!

One more note. Nancy often walks from our house in Greensboro to the local supermarket in order to buy a few small things. The journey to the market and back usually takes her about 20 minutes. Last week I took our granddaughter Colette on the same walk—it took 2 ½ hours. Along the way we looked at bugs and leaves and goose droppings and rocks and dogs and airplanes and construction equipment and much more. To her every sound and every sight was a wonder, something worth stopping for and examining. The journey was slow but not boring…And it made me think once again about life and time. It made me wonder whether or not in the rush to get from one place to another and to do just one more thing in the seconds we can eke out of a day, we do not miss the wonder along the way—the wonder of people and places and things. The wonder of little things and big things. The wonder of life itself. Life in Carlow will probably be much slower than life in Shoreline or Clarkston or even in Greensboro. And that can either be frustrating if we measure our worth by what we do and how much we accomplish. Or it can be a blessing, a time to listen and watch and learn—from the little things and the slow things.

Years ago Nancy and I were visiting the National Art Gallery in Washington, DC. I have been in some of the great art galleries and museums in the western world, and this is one of them. But usually I have gone from hall to hall, with a guide or a book, and looked for a few seconds at some great masterpiece. This time I did something different. I chose one painting, a Monet, and sat in front of it for nearly the whole time in the museum. Because I did this I can not say that I saw certain paintings that educated people long to see, but I can say that I saw one great one. And I more than glanced at it, I saw details and nuances in it, I absorbed it. And this experience mirrors a walk with a child.
Psalm 46:10 says, Be still, and know that I am God. The journey of a small child is not still, it is filled with motion, but it is a reminder of how we are to live—perhaps not all the time but at least some of the time. It is a reminder of the importance of slowing down and looking, listening and feeling the world in which we live but so often do not notice. It is a reminder of the importance of being in a place, not just passing through it. It is a reminder of our connection with a place, a reality check on our desire to control and shape. And if we take the time it may just change how we feel about and value the times of rushing and running and achieving…

Since returning to Dublin following a week away, we have been spending time visiting local sites and learning about the city and the nation. And it has been fascinating.

First we went to an ancient site called Newgrange. Located in the valley of the river Boyne, about 45 minutes north of Dublin, it is one of the oldest signs of human habitation in Ireland. The site includes three large stone mounds, each with an inside passageway that opens onto a burial chamber. We took the official tour of the site and learned that scientists have been able to discover almost nothing about the people who built the mounds, who was buried in them, or why they were built in the shape they have. There is writing in the passageway but no one knows what it means. The mounds are dated about 3000 BC, but beyond that nothing much is certain. Fascinating.

We then went to Dublinia, the Viking center of Dublin, and learned about the Vikings and the city. It seems that at the city of Dublin first became a city with the arrival of the Vikings at the end of the eighth century, and for several centuries it remained as such—separated from the rest of the country, which was made up of feuding clans of Irish with loyalty to one of the several kings. Gradually the Vikings blended with the surrounding population, but they maintained their important merchant and trading positions. On Good Friday, 1014, internal struggles between the several Irish provincial rulers boiled over into a battle at a place called Clontarf, a battle in which the Vikings joined with the soldiers of the area around Dublin (Leinstermen). Romanticists identify this battle as the end of the Viking era in Irish history, but many would say that it was more an internecine battle with the Vikings playing a part, and in fact the Vikings remained as a significant force in Dublin itself for many more years.


The next era we looked at was represented by the Dublin castle. This era began with what is called the Norman Invasion of 1169, an event which some would prefer to label as the Norman Invitation as it technically began with the English responding to a request of an Irish leader for help in his political ambitions. In any case the English arrived, settled into Dublin, built the castle on the site of an earlier primitive fortification, and began a centuries-long gradual expansion into the whole of the island.


Through all of this history, with its various forces and factors, a common thread of Christianity is woven. St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the largest church in Ireland, was built in the thirteenth century, replacing a small wooden church that had stood on the site of a well that the famous saint is said to have used to baptize new believers in the middle of the fifth century. Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin was probably founded around 1030 , and in a rare arrangement shared the status of cathedral with St. Patrick’s. Following the disestablishment of the Catholic church in Ireland both have retained the status of cathedral in the Church of Ireland, while Rome maintains St. Mary’s church as a Pro-Cathedral in recognition of their claim on Christ Church as the rightful seat of the Catholic Archbishop.
At Clonmacnoise, a monastery to the east of Dublin founded by St. Cirian, we walked on paths and entered ruins of a holy site built in the middle of the sixth century. Throughout the Republic reminders of the place of religion in the history of the island, such as shrines, monastic sites, cathedrals and The Book of Kells, abound. And it has been both a task and an interesting journey to see and walk in some of those places.


The more I learn the more I see there is to learn. When we leave Ireland we will know more than when we came, but we will also be aware of new puzzles and big gaps in our understanding that we never knew we had before. I guess that is the way it is supposed to be. It is like our growth in Christ—the more we know about him the more we know we do not know. In The Chronicles of Narnia one of the children made this profound observation about Aslan, the great lion and ruler of Narnia, The closer I get (to him) the bigger he grows. I find that to be true—do you?

Today marks the fourth Sunday I have had the privilege of preaching at Adelaide Road Presbyterian Church in Dublin Ireland. I have chosen to share messages from one of my favorite books while here, the letter of Paul to the Philippians, and the study guides for these messages are being posted on the web site of the church, www.adelaideroadchurch.org. If you are interested, feel free to log on and take a look.
The past week began with a visit to some interesting sites around Dublin, in the company of friends from Lisburn who had shown up for worship at Adelaide Road. It was great to see them, and to spend the next day with them in the Wicklow Mountains, just south of Dublin proper. The word mountains is a little deceptive from the point of view of the mountains we knew in the Seattle area, but when I ascend the winding road through them on my bicycle I know why they bear that name. In the space of only a few miles the road rises above the tree line to Highland-like countryside and vast panoramas of the world below open up beneath.



Our most interesting stop on this trip was at Glendalough, a place of both natural and historical beauty. Glendalough gets its name from the Irish phrase Gleann dá locha, which literally means the ‘Glen of the two lakes’. Situated in the heart of the Wicklow Mountains, and designated as a National Park, it is one of the most visited locations in Ireland. People like us go there to enjoy the lakes and surrounding forests, and also to visit one of the most important sites of monastic ruins in Ireland, an ecclesiastical village known as The City of the Seven Churches.


The story behind this city centers around a 6th century monk named St. Kevin who, in a desire to get away from worldly distractions made his way to the Glendalough Valley, at the time a desolate and remote site. The saint’s piety and devotion attracted others and soon a monastic community grew up around him. St. Kevin died in 617 AD (supposedly at the age of 120), but the community continued for the next 500 years (Ireland's Golden Age) as one of the country’s greatest ecclesiastical foundations and places of learning. The Danes who were based in Dublin regularly attacked and burned the city, but it continued to prosper until the 13th century when the Normans destroyed the monastery and placed the area under the jurisdiction of Dublin. The buildings fell into decay and more than 600 years elapsed before a reconstruction program was started in 1878. Further work was carried out in the 20th century.


At Glendalough several ecclesiastical buildings from the 6th century survive, including one of the oldest high towers in the country. These uniquely Irish architectural features puzzle current scholars, who are not certain what they were used for. Some say they were for storage, others for a place of safety during a raid, and others to lead the pilgrims’ way to the holy place. In any case the whole site is impressive, and the glimpse into an important part of religious history is fascinating. If you want to know more about this history I recommend reading How the Irish Saved Civilization, by Thomas Cahill. It is not only interesting and informative, but also very readable.
On Thursday Nancy and I went north to Northern Island (part of the UK) and visited several friends who we knew from our time in Lisburn, including the Bruce clan. Years ago a number of us from Calvin combined cycling and missions and helped in a seaside youth club at Cranfield, south of Dublin on the border with the Republic. David Bruce was the speaker for the morning this past Friday at the same camp, so Nancy and I went there. It was good to see the work continuing, and to reconnect with some of the team I knew from our time years ago. On the way to the camp, just outside Cranfield and up the road a few miles, we passed the place where CS Lewis spent many childhood summers, and the hill which he immortalized as the site of the castle from which the kings and queens of Narnia ruled, Cair Paravel.


So, all in all it was a very full and interesting week. And it was bookended by a Sunday the 15th visit to a summer mission at Greystone (a town on the coast south of Dublin) which has been held there for the past 111 years…And a Sunday the 22nd Irish picnic—complete with a barbeque sheltered by umbrellas to keep the driving rain away.


Living here is a privilege and a gift, and Nancy and I thank God for it. We are in a position to learn from the people here today, and from those who were here over a thousand years before our nation was begun. And those two forces—the present and the legacy—are important for us to know and learn from. And I guess such is the case wherever we are and whoever we are.