Reflections on My Scottish Pilgrimage

“The heavens are telling the glory of God,
    and the firmament proclaims God’s handiwork.
Day to day pours forth speech,
    and night to night declares knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words;
    their voice is not heard;
yet their voice
goes out through all the earth
    and their words to the end of the world.”

(Psalm 19:1-4)

For years I have heard colleagues and friends speak of the “motherland” of Presbyterianism – the land of John Knox – with much affection.  This was especially true of their tales of Iona and its beauty – as a place where heaven and earth meet – allowing one to experience the divine.  According to Celtic tradition, there are 3 feet that separate heaven from earth.  The tradition speaks of places and spaces – physical, spiritual or relational – where the presence of that distance collapses and a veil is lifted if you will, allowing for humanity to encounter the divine.  Those moments – known as “thin places” – invite us into a deeper awareness of the Creator – renewing our spirits, compelling us into a moment of transformation.

Over the years, I have found myself in those “thin places” – geographically, spiritually or relationally.  These are places that allow us to be transformed – and in that transformation, invite us to become agents of that transformation in the world.  This mini-sabbatical trip has escorted me once again to a place that has touched me in profound ways.  As Edward and I traveled to the highlands of Scotland, there was no denying “God’s handiwork” along the way.  The island of Iona is as beautiful as I had been told.  I understood why so many colleagues have spoken of it as a “thin place.”  But for me, the Isle of Skye whispered even louder.  There was no speech or words necessary.  The landscape of the cliffs meeting the North Sea dramatically spoke of God’s handiwork.  It was like experiencing the work of a potter – an artist intentionally etching into the earth with textures and colors – shades of greens as they met with the grays and browns of stone coming up against the blues of an ocean.  I remain humbled by God’s creative work in creation.   My words fail to capture its grandeur.

I also found myself relationally transformed while in Scotland.  To be invited to preach at St. Giles Cathedral, the high Kirk of Edinburgh was at first overwhelming and intimidating.  The invitation came just two days before I left for Scotland.  Notwithstanding my reticence, I have learned to trust that God’s powerful spirit would be with me – even in my uncertainty.  So, I added 5 pounds to my suitcase, packing robe, co-moderator stole and cross, uncertain about the content of my sermon.  That being said, I was deeply blessed by the reception of the leadership, Rev. Dr. Calum MacLeod and his pastoral team.  Calum quickly tutored me in the rituals of the service and thankfully my background in the Anglican church served me well.  As I was escorted up into the pulpit, I found a peace in my spirit as I brought greetings not only from the denomination, but from our presbytery – given our historical connection. The first moderator of our presbytery was a Scotsman as was the first person to be ordained in the Americas

About 30 minutes before worship would begin, the Rev. Dr. Iain Torrance gifted me with a preaching band.  Preaching bands (also known as Geneva bands) are the traditional strips of cloth that are connected to clergy collars.  They symbolize the two tablets of the Ten Commandments given to Moses.  I wore my new band with a sense of gratitude.  Iain served as president of Princeton Seminary for much of my 12-year tenure on the Board of Trustees.  He has also faithfully served as chaplain to the late Queen Elizabeth II and as Chancellor to the University of Aberdeen.  I was so touched by his gift – and the hospitality afforded us after worship.  Perhaps these acts of grace should be expected, but from where I have come – A Latinx woman – I don’t easily assume such grace and embrace.   For me, this experience reflects a thin place – where I am mindful of the divine that meets us in transformational relational spaces, helping us break assumptions we carry from our personal histories and narratives.

Before returning home, I met with the leadership of the Church of Scotland.  That would also become another thin place of sorts.  Strangers brought together to speak of our experience in the larger church.  I am sorry we did not record our exchange – as it was a powerful witness to both our unique and common challenges.  We are clearly bound by our common commitment to be a people of hope for a time such as this.  Both Edward and I left that encounter with our hearts filled with gratitude by our connection to these saints across the ocean.  As we were leaving, their current moderator, the Rev. Iain Greensleeves presented me with a small hand-carved cross which he informed me was like the one he gave Queen Elizabeth one week before she died.  What generosity of word and spirit.

Clearly there is so much more that happened on this trip for which I am grateful.  My words feel insufficient, but I hope you can at least get a sense of how this pilgrimage has touched me ways that the words don’t reach.   I return renewed – thank you for being part of my journey.