On an island high above Newquay’s beach perches a house. You can rent it for your holiday – your own private domain for a week. We watched as a family dragged their cases and carried thei
r food across the narrow bridge. (Sainsbury’s don’t deliver to the door, I imagine!). Practicalities aside, the romance of staying there probably appeals to many of us. We’re an island nation, islands are in our DNA. What is it about islands? The sense of independence? Of safety? Of peace? Of feeling special somehow? Something in our souls is drawn to islands, perhaps even needs them, if only for a while.
St Cuthbert did islands. Though a people-person, he made a hermit-home on an Inner Farne island off the wild Northumberland coast. Why? As a place of connection to his God, far from the madding (and perhaps maddening) crowd. That soul thing. To an August holiday long-past. The family cassette player, wedged on the backseat of our Austin between my sister and me, plays the soundtrack to the passing scenery, Simon and Garfunkel. “I am a rock, I am an island… And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries.” That’s not such a good island to be on. The famous counter-words come from poet John Donne: “No man is an island, Entire of itself.” We yearn for island sanctuary, yet yearn for mainland companionship too. Cuthbert, communing with Christ on his crag, battered by waves and wind, might whisper to us words heard from Christ: “I am the island (of sanctuary).” Echoes of Christ’s ancient reassurances. Yet also “I am the boat, and the bridge,” as Cuthbert rows back to his beloved people, knowing Christ as the one who helped folk restore life’s broken bridges of relationship and no longer be islands of despair. May our souls find the islands of sanctuary we need. And the courage to cross those restorative bridges – even if, like that Cornish one, they may look a little scary.
Rev David Carrington
Team Vicar of Feniton with Escot and Payhembury
The Rectory, Station Road, Feniton 01404 850905 revdavidcarrington@gmail.com
