
Historical Setting: Jarrow, 793 C.E.
The King’s man Ousbert is making a plan to save these coastal monasteries from the fate of Lindisfarne. Ousbert is asking for details of the cause of the raid, and since I was there, he’s questioning me.
“People who put their trust in saints to be all powerful are blaming the enshrined saint for the failures to protect the monastery. A saint may offer spiritual protection but this wasn’t a spiritual issue.”
I add, “And blaming is not the same as protecting.”
“It is a dangerous vulnerability. The king is considering an edict that prayers can only be said within high walls with watch towers.”
“Watch towers with armed guards?”
“We’ve already offered guard towers here. But the abbot argues that armed guards stifle the prayers of monks and nuns. So why would all these experts in prayer need to gaze on the rivers and sea? Can’t they close their eyes for prayer, like everyone else? After all, God gave us eyelids.”
“Maybe the spaciousness of nature provides the spiritual sanctuary they seek. City walls with guard towers seem antithetical to prayer.”
“You sound like them now. Even the most vulnerable, the holy women of St. Peter at Monkwearmouth are opposed to watch towers.”
“Posting armed guards to keep watch really does seem like an imposition to the very nature of a monastic community.”
“Whatever. My report to the king will push for a visible military guard. Swordsmen would’ve saved Lindisfarne?”
“It is always the conundrum of what is saved and what is lost. Armed guards can save earthly treasures. But swords don’t save lives. The best a sword can do is terrorize and slaughter selectively.”
Ousbert says, “Ugh! But here in the real world, if guards are at these doors then all the prayers and them that prays them will be safe.”
Our argument echoes in the high arches of this ceiling. In Jarrow the buildings are stone like Rome, but we aren’t in Rome. The outside may be stone, but English use flammable wood everywhere. This high ceiling is supported with wooden beams and the wood paneled walls carry every sound to the rafters. It’s no less vulnerable to torches than was the first building of Lindisfarne made of oak beams and thatch. Then it was covered over with sheets of lead to be more solid like the Roman stonework buildings.
I ask Ousbert, “What if the Vikings bring torches?”
(Continues tomorrow)