Connected by a Thread
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It has been many years since I first stepped foot onto Iona. I think I was 15 at the time. For me then, nowhere was particularly special; I encountered God wherever I was. And yet, as I put my foot onto the jetty, something changed. It wasn't just the physical beauty of the place, but the community and the environment that was created that helped form such a powerful experience both those many years ago and over the many years since.
So visiting Iona once again during this sabbatical was something I was looking forward to, but it was not something that I anticipated moving me the way it did. I should have learned by now… Yes, it was the beauty of the island, although the weather didn't show it at its best. Yes, it was the stillness in the Abbey; the moments of deep prayerfulness in worship. But there was something far more profound for me. For me, the thing that moved me most was the connection with one another and the community that was formed during our stay. It is a community that, though dispersed, has continued.
Every now and again, a ping on my phone reminds me of a new message. It is a message from these companions. Maybe it is a message from Norway or the States; maybe a message from Germany or Scotland. It is a message that reminds me that though we are apart, we shared something deeply in that week together—something that has bound and connected us. For me, it has served as a reminder of our interconnectedness as humans.
In the daily office of the Iona community, found in the Abbey worship Book there is an affirmation that is shared, an affirmation that talks of how we are ‘made in God's image, befriended by Christ, and empowered by the Spirit’. It states: ‘with people everywhere, we affirm God's goodness at the heart of humanity, planted more deeply than all that is wrong.’ If I'm honest, I'm not completely sure I agree with the essence of that part, for I'm not sure that people everywhere do affirm that goodness, or even know of the heart of that goodness in humanity. Certainly, in the world around us, there is much division and a lack of recognizing the goodness at the heart of the other.
But my time on Iona has reminded me of it—of that deep goodness at the heart of humanity. For the random selection of individuals that formed our community was something truly blessed. It was present on our pilgrimage around the island. It was while sitting in the common room with people from so many different lands, playing pick-up sticks across the generations. It was in the island bar where a group of middle-aged and older people celebrated someone's 18th birthday as if we were the only friends she wanted to be with, even though we'd only met that week. We were connected, we found God in one another, and I found a reconnection with my own sense of humanity and of God's blessing of who I am, in all that I am and am not.
To help mark out those who were staying at the Abbey from those who needed to pay to enter the historic buildings, a simple piece of Iona wool was given to guests: a thread tied around our wrists. It was a simple sign to show at the entrance gate, but that thread became a far deeper symbol of our connection.
It's been a few weeks since we returned from the beautiful island. Every now and again, an image pops up on my phone of someone's wrist, showing the thread of connection. It is still there… reminding them and us of all that we shared. Not all of us are still wearing our threads; mine broke and had to be fixed again. Others have needed to take them off for work, or simply because they wore thin. But whether we are wearing our threads, or not, we are still connected – connected in our humanity, in our journeys of faith, and in the blessing of God that we received during and through our time together, and in all the different places we now find ourselves.
As the closing responses of the daily office put it, ‘In work, rest and worship, God is with us. Gathered and scattered, God is with us. Now and always, God is with us.’
From those morning prayers in the Abbey, people remain standing and go onwards into their daily tasks and the various activities that help to form and keep the community working. For me, that was helping in the garden; for others, it was cleaning toilets (Sarah got that task again!), sorting the common room, or setting a meal… each and every task was not a separate part of our lives, but part of our ongoing act of community and of worship. I hope and pray I can continue to hold that thread in my daily life and to recognise how in all things God is at work and is present, and that all is part of my worship.
My thread won’t manage to stay on my wrist much longer, but what it has come to symbolise will remain and for that I am grateful.
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