Historical Setting: 793 C.E. Lindisfarne Monastery
I came looking for the Gospel of John to read again John Chapter 15 because I wanted to remember Jesus dancing the vine dance or sitting at the table with us, all of us, the world of us, and saying, once again what he says so often, “We are all one vine, beloved together.” It was that oneness that took us through the pain of seeing Jesus himself and so many others murdered on crosses by the Romans. It wasn’t a passionate murder, rather an abuse of love. It was simply a fear that a great unity of love, which Jesus revealed in his simple words, that must have seemed so terrifying to those who had staked their lives on power and wealth. If God is all there is and God is love, then empire is meaningless. Now, here I am, reading from this beautiful rendition of the gospel that the marauders couldn’t see as valuable while my own imagination, sees all the glosses by the inks of imperialists striving for power.
The Norsemen came for the simple things that would sell for gold at earthly markets.
It is high tide now and Brother Ealdwin runs up here to tell me to come to the shore.
“They are coming back! I see the boats – There is a whole flotilla of boats rowing toward us from the mainland. Come and greet them!”
I follow him, running down, down to the shore just as the little hide currachs are being drawn onto the shore. Each little boat is peopled with men dressed in the monks robes familiar here, dark clothes for mourning.
“It is the bishop, himself who leads them.”
Brother Ealdwin runs into the waves, and I follow after him to help haul the boats higher onto the sand. These mourners who had fled, return today and wade ashore.
Brother Ealdwin is crying on the shoulder of the bishop. Bishop Higbald will soon see this tearful greeting is not the only thing here that will shatter his stately presence. Brother Ealdwin guides this procession to each station of destruction. He shows them the stone he is carving so any visitor will know that on one side is an army of endings, and the other the names of their Norsemen’s victims. When finished, that will mark the newer place where we buried the dead. Brother Ealdwin speaks the name of each mound of earth we’ve heaped here. The mourners genuflect and weep. At each little mound of earth, stories are shared of the remembrances.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 