Clonmacnoise

Clonmacnoise monastic site

Ever wonder why there are so many monastic sites throughout Ireland? I could paraphrase Thomas Cahill from a fascinating little book he wrote called How the Irish Saved Civilization, but I won’t. He says it so much better himself. 

Ireland was unique in religious history for being the only land into which Christianity was introduced without bloodshed. And this lack of martyrdom troubled them, to whom a glorious death by violence presented such an exciting finale. They developed their own martyrdom, Green Martyrdom. The Green Martyrs sacrificed their lives to God by leaving behind the comforts and pleasures of human society and retreating into solitude—to a green no-man’s-land outside tribal jurisdictions—to study the scriptures and commune with God.

The Green Martyrdom extremes were quickly abandoned in favor of monasticism, a movement which involved a more social contract, something the Irish found it difficult to live without. Since Ireland had no cities, these monastic establishments grew rapidly into the first population centers, hubs of unprecedented prosperity, art, and learning.

Irish monks began copying religious manuscripts soon after St. Patrick converted the island to Christianity, which was just in the nick of time. Many of the original manuscripts were lost when the Roman Empire crumbled only a century later. So Irish monasteries, with their illustrious libraries, became centers for learning in the Christian world. People traveled here from around the world to study and engage in religious discussion and debate. The two most prolific monastic sites in Ireland were St. Kevin’s at Glendalough (which we visited in the Wicklow Mountains) and St. Cierán’s (Kieran’s) at Clonmacnoise in the Midlands (County Offaly).

Today we visited Clonmacnoise, only an hour’s drive from Galway. I was expecting to find just another collection of ruined stone huts, but I was blown away by the beauty of the site and its surroundings. We hadn’t ventured this far inland on the island. The inland terrain is so delightfully different from that of the coast.

the River Shannon

Most striking is how lush the River Shannon is inland. It’s not at all the dark river we saw tumbling over cold, black rock in Limerick. Here at Clonmacnoise the river swells wide, deep, and blue. The banks are lined with reeds, and every now and then a boat passes peacefully upriver as if it has all the time in the world. How could you not love these impressive stone buildings, round towers, and high crosses set against a background of brilliant blue sky, Irish-green grass, and that gorgeous river?

St. Cierán’s memorial

The hut where St. Cierán, founder of Clonmacnoise, lived and died became his burial place, as was the custom at Clonmacnoise. The hut began to lean because pilgrims would remove soil from its base to take home with them. Spreading a bit of St. Cierán’s earth in the four corners of their fields was thought to yield a more bountiful harvest.

We loved the ruins of this sweet little nun’s chapel just a half-kilometer down the lane. The detail on the stone is like lacework, and those wildflowers springing from stone…. Mm, mm, mm!

Serendipity

in the village of Adare

Our last day in County Limerick and the sun was glorious. The most beautiful spot in Limerick to be outdoors on such a fine day? The village of Adare, hands down.

Adare, acknowledged by many as the prettiest village in Ireland, was directly on our path from our last Airbnb on the Dingle Peninsula to the one we’re in now, outside of Limerick. I had intended to stop in transit and spend the day. I have vague memories as we drove through of people sitting outside at sidewalk cafes having lots more fun than I was having hunkered down in the passenger seat of the car clutching my barf bag. “Do you want to stop?” Marcus asked. “Mmph,” I replied. We drove on.

St. Nicholas Church

Remember that blog about backtracking if you can? [Backtracking in the Wicklow Mountains] So, four days later, back we went.

Do you ever have those serendipitous moments when everything just seems to align? Well, our return to Adare was one of those. The main street was quite congested when we arrived, and we had to circle through town twice before the perfect parking space appeared right before our eyes. As I got out of the car, I looked up to see a wee craft shop with some children’s toys out front. The chance of it offering anything I would want to buy was slim, but there was something about the way my car door opened right onto the path to the shop and the crumbling, white-washed wall beside it with little purple flowers growing out of its crevices….

The shop was a cooperative run by the artists whose wares were featured. I love that! Let’s just say I found a few things I wanted to buy, but I also had the most captivating conversation with Keri, the artist on duty that day. She is a potter who makes little bottles used to collect water from holy wells. [Irelands Sacred Water]

We’ve seen signs for these holy wells all over Ireland—hundreds of them—natural springs that were discovered in pre-Christian days and used as sites for pagan rituals. St. Patrick, who brought Christianity to Ireland, was smart to incorporate them into the new religion. Rather than condemning them as pagan clap-trap, he ordained them as holy wells, thereby engaging more pagan converts.

For centuries travelers have sought out holy wells for healing purposes. Not only do they drink and collect the waters, but many soak a piece of cloth in them and tie the cloth on an inflicted part of their body. Before leaving the well, they tie the cloth to an overhanging tree branch. As the rag decomposes in the elements, the infliction ostensibly dissipates. 

I love the folklore, and I love that the Irish can make room in their hearts for their ancient past while respecting their current religious foundations. They have an incredible heritage. Perhaps this is the reason I was brought here today.

The Rock

…of Cashel. A legend. A fortress. A cathedral. A national heritage.

Legend has it that the rock foundation was created when St. Patrick confronted the devil in a cave in the Slieve Bloom Mountains about 20 miles from Cashel. The devil bit off a piece of a mountain leaving a gap in the range—appropriately named the Devil’s Bit—and breaking his teeth in the process. He was so angry, he spit out the rock. It landed near Cashel. [Who makes this stuff up?]

baptism of Aengus by St. Patrick

The Kings of Munster (the southernmost of the four ancient kingdoms of Ireland) built a fortress on the Rock in the early Middle Ages.

St. Patrick baptized the first Christian Munster King, Aengus, here in the 4th century, a major turning point in his mission to convert the entire island. Once the king was baptized, his loyal clansmen would follow suit. And then perhaps the other kings….

During the ceremony, St. Patrick is said to have accidentally stabbed Aengus in the foot with his staff. Blood flowed and tears rolled down his cheeks, but Aengus never cried out. He thought it was part of the ritual!

In 1101, Munster king Murtagh O’Brien gave the Rock to the church in a strategic move to keep it out of the hands of a rival clan. The only building that remains from the Munster dynasty is an amazing 90-foot-tall round tower built around 1100. It’s thought to be a storage tower used to hide valuables when under attack. The entry is 12 feet off the ground and would have been accessed by a rope ladder which was pulled in—and the doorway sealed—to thwart the enemy. 

The Church built a small chapel on the Rock in the 12th century, and wedged an impressive cathedral in between the round tower and the chapel in the 13th century. By the 18th century, the cathedral was in such a sad state of repair that the church gave it up, moving to a newer cathedral in the town of Cashel. The ruins sat abandoned on top of the Rock until 1975 when restoration of the site began to make it available to visitors. We’re so glad they did. This is one of our favorite stops on the trip so far.