The I can hardly even begin to express the joy and inspiration I experienced in my recent pilgrimage to Ireland. Going to see the Irish premiere of my play Heaven Sent was just the excuse that got me there, along with knowing my son, screenwriter/playwright Jacob Dorn and his wife Alexis would be there to help me stay out of trouble. I arrived in Dublin on Saint Patrick’s Day, and we attended an amazing parade in nearby Newbridge, which was a joyous celebration of community that can scarcely be described. Also, I received a blessing from Saint Patrick himself!
I tried to take a picture of every church and graveyard I could find. There are a LOT of them in Ireland, old and new! This abbey was founded in 1180. A wedding had just taken place and the bride and groom were still posing for pictures. This kind of history and antiquity is EVERYWHERE! Even driving by sheep pastures, we came across ruined fortresses that don’t even appear in Google Maps. What an adventure!
Holy Cross Abbey. EVERY town has an abbey or two (or four), most of which are in ruins (Thanks a lot, Oliver Cromwell. BTW, how’s Hell?).
In Mitchelstown (famous for its cheese), I visited a sacred shrine to one of my all-time favorite early Christians, Saint Fanahan (a contemporary of Patrick) who won pagans to Christ by thumping them with a shillelagh until they converted. We walked along a tree-lined straight and narrow path to the sacred well. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I burst into tears. Fanahan was REAL. All this HAPPENED. A radical (if sometimes misguided) faith transformed a people and created a nation. Later, we visited the ruins of Fanahan’s monastic settlement, which had some of the coolest overgrown and burst-open graves I’ve ever seen.
The elm-lined straight and narrow path to Fanahan’s Well, Mitchelstown.
Graveyard dating to about 700 AD in Brigown, on the site of Fanahan’s monastic community. Still in use today (on the other side of the ruins).
Fanahan’s Well, updated in the 1920s. A bit brisk for a March baptism, IMHO.
It wasn’t ALL churches and graveyards on my (tax-deductible) Christian writer’s pilgrimage to Ireland. Just mostly. We went 200 feet down and 1 km into the Mitchelstown Caverns to see the stalactites and other eerie limestone formations.
Then we went to the incredibly photogenic (and haunted) vacant castle at Duckett’s Grove. And if THAT’S not enough inspiration for a horror story, there was an enormous tree in a snow-swept field that was completely enveloped by a mind-boggling, gigantic CROW’S NEST. It was more than a murder of crows. It was a COLONY of crows. Hundreds of the ravenous scavengers circled the tree, and the whole time I was there, I just KNEW they were watching, waiting…and remembering!
The haunted Duckett’s Grove castle. Eerie, rising up from a snow-swept plain.Terrifying crow’s nest at Duckett’s Grove.
Occasionally, my solemn pilgrimage spirit and writerly determination were supplanted by moments of silliness, joy, weirdness, and the best, biggest cafe mocha of my entire life.
Confessional booth at St. Kevin’s Monastery, Glendalough.
One hefty mocha!
In Dublin, I really got my touristy groove on, with visits to the usual places, and a few off the beaten path locales. Among my favorites were the Molly Malone statue (the Tart with the Cart), the somber Kilmainham Gaol historic tour, the dusty mummies in the crypt at St Michan’s church, and the glorious Augustinian Friary, which effortlessly whisked me off to a mystical place deep in my soul. I was about to take the tonsure and sign up, but my son reminded me that we hadn’t yet popped into the Brazen Head, Ireland’s oldest pub. So much for the monastic life. Also, I was missing my wife a whole lot!
Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin
Crypt at St. Michan’s Church, Dublin
Finally, the crowning high point of my week-long visit to Ireland was seeing the Clontarf Players present the Irish premiere of my play “Heaven Sent.” What a humbling, touching experience. Under the direction of the brilliant Breffni McGuinness, this troupe performed in three different churches over three nights in the Clontarf district of north Dublin. The cast was wonderful, the audience was fully caught up in the religious comedy, and the show closed on Palm Sunday, even as I was winging my way back to Denver. A perfect conclusion to a thrilling, deeply moving, and inspiring journey.
The poster for my play was about three times the size of the sign listing Holy Week services. Yikes!
The Clontarf Players
My heart is overflowing with love and appreciation for all the people of Ireland, and with them, I pray that someday Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland will be reunited in freedom and peace.
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