The Book of Durrow and Would History Repeat Itself
Durrow Abbey
Durrow Abbey High Cross
Book describing The Book of Durrow
photos of The Book of Durrow
photos of The Book of Durrow
We didn't have a lot of time.
We were given a brief tour of the city, and then we were dropped off at Durrow Abbey to hear about the historical significance of this country church in Ireland.
We didn't have a lot of time, and how do you cram centuries of history into one short hour?
The white-haired historian did her best.
Stories of raids and conquerors and the rise and fall of power.
On this one small piece of land.
This one small piece of land where the faithful came and prayed.
And believed.
Married. Baptized. Buried the dead.
The cemetery with lichen and moss-covered gravestones bore witness to this tale.
As did the worn wood of the pews inside the sanctuary.
The original abbey was established in the 6th century and was known as a center of education, along with other nearby monasteries. Durrow was frequently raided by the Vikings, and later the Normans.
A mid-9th century High Cross stood inside the sanctuary, highlighted by the natural lighting of the surrounding windows. Scenes from the Old and New Testament are carved in sandstone on all four sides: Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. David wrestling with a lion. Pilate washing his hands. The arrest, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ. A panel next to the cross stated that the focus of the stories was on man's need for redemption.
The historian showed us these things as we snapped photos.
We glanced at our watches. Almost out of time.
This small country abbey also made at least one other significant contribution to history: The Book of Durrow, "the earliest surviving fully decorated insular Gospel manuscript." Many of the pages are embellished with precious jewels and textiles, including the opening words of each of the four Gospels. The book resides now at Trinity College in Dublin.
This then, was the crowning jewel of this country abbey and the historian was just getting to the apex of her story, when we ran out of time.
No time for the high point. The summit.
No time for the climax of the tale.
(How can you put a story down just when you are getting to the entire point?)
But put it down we did and walked out to the car, leaving untold the story of the Book of Durrow. We carried with us images of early Christian grave slabs, of a sandstone cross, and a passionate historian with so much to tell and not enough time.
We apologized profusely, excusing ourselves to go to a next appointment.
"In the United States we are babies to you in regard to history," I said in a parting comment.
She disagreed. "You have the Grand Canyon."
I wanted to stay. I wanted to explore this thought. I wanted to spend more time with this person who viewed all things through the lens of history.
But in an ironic twist, we didn't have time for history, because we didn't have time for even now. I couldn't help but wonder if I would be one of those who failed to learn from the past and then would be doomed to repeat it.
Seatbelted into the car, we began to back down the driveway lined with ancient oaks, but stopped at a tap on the passenger window.
In the hands of the storyteller was a book entitled, The Book of Durrow: A Medieval Masterpiece at Trinity College Dublin.
She handed it to us.
"This is my copy with all the pages marked, but you can read about The Book of Durrow on your own."
She smiled and waved as we drove away.
I thumbed through the book that contained photos of many of the pages of the Book of Durrow, along with a detailed "guided tour of the masterpiece."
In my hands I held history.
But more than that.
A reminder.
In my conversations -- today -- with those who want to share with me their passion. Their point.
Their story.
Will I make time for now or will history repeat itself?
Next week I am going to share another Irish story about the suitcase full of books that came home with us. Stay tuned.