A bronze statue stands in honor of my longtime friend and mentor, the late Jesuit priest, Jim Bowler. If you visit my alma mater, Fairfield University, and wind your way toward the DiMenna-Nyselius Library, you can see it for yourself.
Who does the statue depict? Not Jim, of course; he was quite clear about that when he told me it was being installed. A great Jesuit saint? Good guess, but no. It’s an Irish saint from the sixth century. An old monk, in fact — not a Jesuit at all. And what’s more, he’s holding a nest of blackbird eggs.
I asked Jim what the significance of the statue was. “Why St. Kevin?” I wondered. “Why an Irish saint?” Jim changed the subject, as was his way, never giving me a straight answer. And after his death, I forgot about the statue, about its mysterious depicted saint and the bird clutched in the bronze man’s outstretched hand.
That is, until I was invited to give a series of retreats and workshops in Ireland earlier this month. Would you know that not far from where I stayed on the outskirts of Dublin lies the enchanted valley of Glendalough? Why is that important, you ask? In that valley, nestled on a pair of lakes, sits the monastic community that St. Kevin founded, as well as the legendary cave in which the old monk nurtured a blackbird and its offspring in one weary, outstretched hand.
I visited that place. I went in part to discover what an Irish saint and his mystical bird had to do with the legacy of my own spiritual mentor. But more than that, I went to see what an Irish legend had to teach me for my life today. And I didn’t go alone.
My guide was Fr. Brendan McManus, SJ, something of a master pilgrim himself. Brendan led me through the monastic ruins and alongside the gentle lapping waves of the lakes. More importantly, Brendan led me into silence and stillness. This is the heart of St. Kevin, Brendan insisted. This is the heart of pilgrimage.
St. Kevin, it is said, was adept at praying in utter stillness and silence. It was his statuesque, upturned, contemplative palm that led the supposed blackbird to find the saint a suitable nesting place. And Kevin, ever attentive to God’s Spirit, remained still and silent until the blackbirds were hatched. And so, the legend of St. Kevin boils down to a simple series of questions: Can we sit with God in stillness and allow God’s creative spirit to bloom in our lives? Can we practice the required patience and trust and, ultimately, gratitude that connects us to our God of the universe?
My old friend, Jim Bowler, often pointed to a similar horizon for prayer: gratitude and trust and a casting of oneself into the vastness of God.
I’m excited to share with you the fruits of my Irish pilgrimage, to take you with me into the heart of Glendalough. Click here to listen to this week’s episode of “AMDG: A Jesuit Podcast.” When you do, you’ll get a chance to walk with Fr. Brendan and me as we pick our way through the myths and wonders of ancient Ireland, one that might be more relevant to today than we might at first think.
Take a look at some of the sites we visited.
