100. Just Another Sunday

Going for a swim in the Atlantic at 60 degrees was not on my bucket list. But at a B&B breakfast I met Kevin from Cork who was going to take a dip in Dingle Bay.  I thought . . . maybe. Isn’t that part of the Irish “Wild Atlantic Way.” Then I heard another older couple say they also planned on going swimming at a lake nearby. These were not youthful athletes, nor members of the “polar bear club.” I thought again . . . why not. 

After a  luxurious scrambled eggs and salmon, why not chill in Dingle Bay. Kevin drove us to one beach where the tide was coming in. High waves and rocks. No go. Then we meandered to another with shallower flats that allowed us to wade out quite far up to our waist. I was thinking this is good for the legs. But then we dove in for a couple of minutes and floated on our backs. To my surprise it was not freezing. Just invigorating. It was my second baptism in 75 years. Kevin stepped on a crab on the way back. I had “smooth sailing.”

Back in Dingle, I grab a cappuccino at the Pig & Leaf Cafe. Next to me was a local, Michael, who currently is in the Irish Navy. They have six ships in total. The Air Force has six planes. I asked him what he actually did on ship. “Two things,” he replied. “We enforce fishing protections and drug interdiction.” The first is making sure the fisherman are using proper nets etc. The drug intervention is stopping boats from South America delivering narcotics to Ireland. Sometimes there is confrontation. Special forces are called in. Hmm, so the U.S. isn’t the only one trying to prevent Venezuela’s exports. After we blew up a drug ship last week, Ireland might be seeing even more cross Atlantic drug traffic. It’s a safer gamble here. There's only six ships.

All of this happens before noon, which leaves me time to walk across the street from the Grape Vine Hostel and go to an Anglican service at St. James. This is a smaller, older church in need of renovation, much like it’s adjacent graveyard. Last Friday I was there for a music concert of traditional Irish pipes, fiddle and guitar. So I'm no stranger.

I grew up Catholic and am used to stain glassed windows and visual statuary of the saints and Christ. But this Church of Ireland in the Anglican tradition had none of that. On the walls were only images of “text” from Scripture. This appeared to emphasize a more rational, intellectual approach, post Gutenberg, than the other worldly imaginations of the supernatural in a Roman Catholic setting. So I returned this Sunday morning, back to St. James, to see how it differs from my childhood upbringing at a Catholic Mass. This was really my first time for an Anglican Service,

I knew it’d be different but I quickly realized I was not in Kansas anymore. There were only twenty people here in this small church. From the start they were extremely friendly, greeted me and carried on conversations out loud among the pews. No solemnity here. The Hymnal had over 700 songs. Definitely not Catholic. Too much participation. The Common Prayer Book seemed to emphasize the laity and not the clergy. Then the priest came out in a roman collar, but she was certainly not Catholic. And not Irish. She was from Indiana. Many participants were actually expats from the States. I made a critical mistake to sit in the front, but quickly realized I couldn’t tell if the others were sitting or not. Definitely not kneeling. That’s way to Catholic, a veiled gesture of submission. Not here. I gazed over my shoulder once to see if I was the only one standing, which I was.   

There was no transubstantiation . . . what the heck is this? The ritual ended after the Offering. Then we went across the street to a very posh establishment, the Benning Hotel, for coffee and tea. A type of communion, friends among friends, wherever two or more are gathered. We didn’t jump a stone wall, but we did cross from sacred to secular.

Henry VIII would be proud of what his Church of England has morphed into, the Church of Ireland as well as American Episcopalian. But to me this Prayer Service was still Catholic with a different coat of paint. Yes, more democratic, but still 2,000 years old. Heavily scriptural with still a taste of Original Sin. I would have been more at home in the beehives of early Irish Christians who had more of a sense of Original Grace and used a Celtic cross that embedded the sun at its center, a sun that shined freely on All. 

I excused myself because I still had a three hour Slea Head Tour around the peninsula, We drove along the beautiful coastal route where sometimes the road was just a lane and barely big enough for two cars comfortably. Somebody has to stop.

Stunning scenery. Stone beehive ruins. And Star Wars film locations. All of this before 5pm. Just another Sunday in Dingle. Actually, it was my only Sunday. The one thing I didn’t do was have some chocolate whiskey ice cream. But that’s what Monday’s for!