2 Corinthians 13.11-13, Matthew 28.16-20
Trinity Sunday, 7 June 2020 - churches closed
Wash your hands often - it’s the best form of protection. So we are told, and it’s good advice. But today I’d like to invite you to join me in an appreciation of the works of Alexander Carmichael, a Scottish civil servant and antiquarian who died on 6 June 1912 after a lifetime spent travelling the Hebridean islands collecting folklore and local traditions, among them many of the prayers which the islanders said day by day. These were prayers they spoke, not whilst gathered in churches, but whilst in their own homes, going about their day. Many of these prayers seek God’s protection.
So - I invite you to join an island crofter making her morning prayers as she pours water into her wash bowl. Taking a palmful of water in her hands she says:
A palmful for thine age
A palmful for thy growth,
A palmful for thy throat,
A flood for thine appetite.
You can picture her, with each line of this prayer, splashing water over her face, her neck, her throat, awakening herself to a day when God will be present, protecting her. She continues:
The three palmfuls
Of the Secret Three,
To preserve thee
From every envy,
Evil eye and death;
The palmful of the God of Life,
The palmful of the Christ of Love,
The palmful of the Spirit of Peace,
Triune
Of Grace. [2]
Now scholars reckon that Alexander Carmichael tidied up many of these prayers, theologised them a bit. But they still retain a sense of coming from people living inseparably with the soil, the creatures and the elements, and with the spirits of the earth too; and there’s a very strong sense that the three people of the Godhead, Father Son and Holy Spirit, were as close to them as the family who shared their simple homes. Listen to this fire-lighting prayer:
I will kindle my fire this morning
In presence of the holy angels of heaven,
Without malice, without jealousy, without envy,
Without fear, without terror of any one under the sun,
But the Holy Son of God to shield me.
Without malice, without jealousy, without envy,
Without fear, without terror of any one under the sun
But the Holy Son of God to shield me. [3]
What would that crofter do first thing, besides washing and lighting the fire? Maybe make her bed: and so consider for a moment this bed, likely the bed she was born in, the bed her mother, and her mother before her slept in. The bed of her daughters to come. The prayer she says as she plumps the pillows and smooths the sheets is this:
I make this bed
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost,
In the name of the night we were conceived,
In the name of the night that we were born,
In the name of the day we were baptised,
In the name of each night, each day,
Each angel that is in the heavens. [4]
To that crofter, God is there in that intimate moment and place, of conception, birth and baptism (for women baptised their own children on those islands where priests were scarce). God is invoked for the protection of that space for that day and every day: for these folk were keenly aware of their mortality, the hazardous nature of their lives lived in a harsh environment, at the mercy of natural forces beyond their control. And so we also find farmers’ prayers for the protection of the cattle, and prayers which fishermen made for the protection of their boat at sea.
Now, these are anxious days we’re living through. Anxieties about our own health and that of others; about coming out of lockdown and all the attendant risks; about the shape and security of life going forward. As a people we’re more aware now than we’ve been for a long time of just how deeply connected we are to the rest of nature; not dominators after all; for we’re learning how nature adapts our disruptive activities, mutating them into climate patterns and viral forms which threaten us. [5]
So what better way to spend our days than invoking the protection of God in our hearts and homes, on our journeys and at our places of work. Protection against our harmful states of mind, too: meaning learning to be humble partners in the life of the earth. These prayers of our ancient forebears might become our prayers too: asking the Father to secure us as we begin our days, asking the Son to shield us in all our ways, asking the Spirit to guide us away from harmful activities to learn to live together in ways where we, the earth and others flourish.
And these are lonesome days we’re living through. Despite a recent loosening of restrictions we’re still by necessity more apart from each other than we’ve ever been. So there’s a strength in living each hour conscious that we’re united together with all the believers, and the saints and angels, in the company of The Three in One God.
Until that day when we can once again greet each other with a holy kiss (as St Paul invites us to); until that time we can once again go out and make disciples (following Jesus’ direction), we can still commune, in the safety and security of the God of love and peace.
A final ancient Gaelic prayer, which Carmichael called a Charm Against Venom:
Be the eye of God between me and each eye,
The purpose of God between me and each purpose,
The hand of God between me and each hand,
The shield of God between me and each shield.
The desire of God between me and each desire.
The bridle of God between me and each bridle,
And no mouth can curse me.
Be the pain of Christ between me and each pain.
The love of Christ between me and each love.
The dearness of Christ between me and each dearness,
The kindness of Christ between me and each kindness,
The wish of Christ between me and each wish.
The will of Christ between me and each will.
And no venom can wound me.
Be the might of Christ between me and each might,
The right of Christ between me and each right.
The flowing of Spirit between me and each flowing,
The washing of Spirit between me and each washing,
The bathing of Spirit between me and each bathing,
And no ill thing can touch me. [6]
Notes
[1] This talk draws on my earlier sermon, John 17 - God’s Protection, preached in Devon, 2012.
[2] Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica: Hymns and Incantations from the Gaelic. ‘Bathing Prayer’, p.61.
[3] Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica. ‘The Blessing of the Kindling’, p.231.
[4] Douglas Hyde, Religious Songs of Connacht, Vol. 2, ‘I make this bed’. p. 207.
[5] “The coronavirus epidemic can be seen as an assemblage of a (potentially) pathogenic viral mechanism, industrialised agriculture, fast global economic development, cultural habits, exploding international communication, and so on. The epidemic is a mixture in which natural, economic and cultural processes are inextricably bound together.” Slavoj Žižek, Pandemic! Covid-19 Shakes the World. p.117.
[6] Alexander Carmichael, Carmina Gadelica. 'Charm Against Venom', p.57.
Comments