Several years ago, we travelled with a group of church members and friends to Ireland, Scotland, and England on a trip intended to explore the legacy left to us by ancient Celts who embraced and practiced Christianity in their own unique way in those lands.
On monastic grounds we saw curious stone round towers, constructed as bell towers or perhaps as places of refuge from marauding Vikings. There were beehive huts built of corbelled stone that housed monks drawn to the remote islands to devote themselves to God.
Mysterious Lindisfarne monastery was built on a tidal island reachable by land bridge only twice each day where it offered retreat for religious seekers wishing to leave behind the day to day world. Towering stone crosses, carved with Biblical images and characters, appeared to defy gravity with their heavy arms raised to tell the old, old stories.
But perhaps the most intriguing remnant of Celtic Christianity was to be found on the Isle of Iona.
While several ancient buildings dot the tiny island of Iona, floating off the western coast of Scotland, the greatest gem is the Abbey Church, founded over 1400 years ago.
The Abbey Church is perched on a spot thought to be holy for many centuries and said to be the burial place of numberless kings from Scotland, Ireland, Norway, and France. Across the years the old building had been sacked by invaders, and then left in disuse to fall prey to decay.
But from 1938 to 1965 teams of craftsmen, clergy, architects, and artisans worked to restore the building to its original condition and make it ready for a modern worshiping community. When the exterior was painstakingly completed, the interior was refurnished with a new lectern, pulpit, and altar.
Finally, skilled craftsmen were asked to make eight large wooden plates to hold the bread for communion. It was decided that a different scripture verse would be carved around the rim of each plate. The first seven verses were easily chosen, but an eighth remained to be selected.
The supervising architect was asked to choose the final verse and his choice was this phrase from Matthew’s Gospel: “Friend, why are you here?”
That question was posed by Jesus in a moment of betrayal shortly before his arrest and trial. But the poignant timelessness of the question makes it a relevant one for religious seekers of every place and age.
The ancient Celts believed a sort of thin veil separated this world from the holiness that lay just beyond their sight, and that in unusually beautiful and remote places the veil was thinner and the holy more accessible.
And so they chose the loveliest places they could to build their churches and monasteries. That’s why they were there.
Why do we go where we do to worship?
Some of us, like the ancient Celts, may sense the surprising and unusual nearness of the holy in the place we’ve chosen for worship.
Some of us probably worship as we do with less well-defined motives. Some of us attend worship out of habit. Some may go out of a sense of obligation. Some look for peace, some for comfort, some for forgiveness, some for understanding.
Perhaps the question that has resounded across the ages is one worth being asked anew.
Next time you’re at prayer or engaged in your place of worship, imagine being asked the timeless question: “Friend, why are you here?”
