Every Earthly Blessing

Sermon | March 16, 2025
First Presbyterian Church
Sandusky, OH

As tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day, it is only fitting that we start with a quote from the saint himself:

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun
Brilliance of moon
Splendor of fire
Speed of lightning
Swiftness of wind
Depth of sea
Stability of earth
Firmness of rock.

Although perhaps not readily apparent I find these words reminiscent of our reading from the Psalms. When David beholds God in the “sanctuary,” it is not some building that he is talking about. Rather it is the earth and the heavens—creation.

Look at the words of Patrick—heaven, sun. moon, lightening, wind, sea, earth, rock. These are natural terms – and in them Patrick, as does David, senses the divine.

There are many threads that make up my spiritual pilgrimage. The one that weaves it all together is that of Celtic Christianity.

In particular, two aspects: Celtic Christianity before it became Romanized. And the period known as the “Celtic Latins.” Latin speaking theologians from Celtic lands. The common tread that ran through these theologians was the early Celtic Christian notion that theology is derived from our God-experiences, rather than our God-experiences determined by our dogma, our creeds.

And this brings us to those early Celtic Christians and our theme: “Every Earthly Blessing.”

When Christianity came to the Celtic peoples they embraced it, not as something new, but a continuation of the old ways. The Welsh Bard, Taliesin, claims that “There was never a time when we (the Celts) were not Christians. We just didn’t know it.”

Before Christianity, they were monotheistic. Their god was father, mother and child. The so-called Celtic gods were but various aspects of their god. Just as the Hebrew scriptures describe God in various ways. Water was considered holy, the feminine, nurturing aspect of god. Fish (and in particular, salmon) because they swam in water were embedded with divine nurturing wisdom. If eaten, then that Divine Wisdom was conveyed to us. Not much different than the Logos being conveyed to us as listen to the Spirit of God, that is Divine wisdom. Or even as we do through partaking of the Communion elements.

And that sense of the divine was for the early Celtic Christians as it was for those before Christianity arrived: Every earthly thing was sparked by the divine image. Everything was a divinely blessed. And as such, every thing – individually –blesses every other thing, animate and inanimate. And as each blesses the other, all collectively bless in a manifold way the wholeness of creation.

This is what I find exciting about Celtic Christianity! Celtic Christianity reminds us that we –animate and inanimate – are family. Celtic Christianity reminds us that we have a responsibility for the well-being of the entirety of creation.

Celtic Christianity knocks us off of the pedestal. It reminds us that we are part of a larger scheme of things. As a kid I often heard the Irish maxim, “Heaven is only a foot above your head.”

The Celtic peoples had an interesting concept of heaven as a place. For them heaven envelopes and permeates the cosmos. I like that idea. It is not unlike Jesus teaching the Kingdom of God is present. Sometimes we get glimpses of that presence. We enter what the Celts called the “thin spots.” We sense the blessing.

Generally, however, we need to humble ourselves, to get out of our sense that God owes us something because we are Christian. We need to yearn for, and seek those thin spots. The Celtic monks called it “Finding places of Resurrection.” They sought them out in the hermitage, the pilgrimage, waling the labyrinth. They found them not as a flash of lightening or the roar of thunder, but in the soft voice of bird, the trickle of a creek, the rustle of a leaf, even the markings of a stone.

No different than the Psalmist who declares that the we behold God in stars, that that all of creation cries out in praise of God.

Upon the reading of the saints’ lives, we find that they were often mystically accompanied by those who passed on before.

These “thin spots” are found in the words of our reading from Hebrews. The writer reminds us that we are surrounded – picture the Celtic concept of enveloped and embedded – surrounded by those who have preceded us. They’re not just standing their watching. They’re cheering us on.

And this, says the writer of Hebrews should give us hope as we move along our pilgrimages, as we find our places of resurrection, our thin spots.

And when they did experience thin spots, it was not for them alone. The insight was to be shared in word or deed with the whole.

We Presbyterians often shun the mystical, yet Celtic Christianity teaches us, if Christianity is to be practical, it must also be mystical. For it is in the mystery that we experience God.

Which brings us to a bit of theology: The Word, or Logos, as God. I am going to paraphrase our gospel reading as the Celtic Latins might have, especially, the Celtic Latin known as John Scotus Eriugena:

In the Beginning was the Breath (“logos” is derived from the Greek word for breath) and the Breath was of God and was God from the beginning. Through the Breath all things were made….

The prologue of John’s Gospel resonated with the Celtic Christian monks, I believe, for a very specific reason: They understood the Logos of God not only as the breath of God, but more importantly a Holy Melody. The Celtic story of creation in a nutshell goes:

The breath of God (that is, the divine masculine energy) moved across the waters, that is the divine feminine, nurturing energy, and the two combined as the Divine Creative Song, and there was life. [Did you note that the Creator God has both strong and nurturing energy?] To put it poetically,

Quiet—
Eternal Quiet.
Not even the sound of the restless, stirring, dark waters could be heard.
Then, a great spiraling strain of Melody moved across the endless waters.
Subdued at first,
then quickly gathering momentum until it reached a great crescendo. And, then, there was Life!
But the Melody did not stop.
It continued its song,
filling all of Creation with its divine harmony.

And so it continues today,
for all those who listen.

For Celtic Christians Jesus as the Divine Melody was mystically present in every moment, just as he was for the post-Easter Christians. He was in the baby. He was in the song. He was in daily.

The Celtic Latin, John Scotus Eriugena writes,

Christ wears two shoes in the world: scripture and nature. Both are necessary to understand the Lord, and at no stage can creation be seen as a separation of things from God.

The Jesuit Scholar, Teilhard de Chardin who was greatly influenced by Eriugena, puts it this way:

By virtue of Creation, and still more the Incarnation, nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see.

Applying it to the present: The Kingdom of God is present in every moment, in every aspect of life. The Kingdom of God is the rhythm of the Universe. It is the thread that holds it all together.

We close with a tale from Irish legend of the Fianna (finna), a band of Hunter-Warriors led by the Warrior-Seer Fionn mac Cumhaill (finn mac cool). Patrick might well have known them.

One evening as they were around fire, Finn asked them this question: “What is the sweetest sound of all?” “A newborn’s cry,” one answered. Another, “The dogs’ bray during hunt.” And another, “Two people in love.” They went around the fire, each saying his thought. When it came full circle, Finn replied, “All these are sweet sounds indeed. But the sweetest sound of all is the music of what happens.”

It is music of Every Earthly Blessing!

We must make it ours, both individually and as the human family