Earth, Sky, and Sea, as the Creator's Haven

1 I feel the winds of God today;

today my sail I lift,

though heavy oft with drenching spray

and torn with many a rift;

if hope but light the water's crest,

and Christ my bark will use,

I'll seek the seas at his behest,

and brave another cruise. Voices United 625

I've finished reading Emma Donaghue's latest novel, Haven, which is about three men in a tub. They are not the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, rather three monks in a coracle looking for adventure and God. This description of the plot is succinct:

In seventh-century Ireland, a scholar priest named Artt has a dream in which God tells him to leave the sinful world behind. With two monks—young Trian and old Cormac—he rows down the River Shannon in search of an isolated spot in which to found a monastery. Drifting out into the Atlantic, the three men find the impossibly steep, bare island known today as Skellig Michael. In such a place, what will survival mean?

I've had a decades-long fascination with things Celtic and I'm a fan of Donaghue's writing. You may know that she began life in Ireland but has lived and written in Canada for many years. It seems that everyone has read Room, or seen the film, and I enjoyed The Pull of the Stars as well. 

Within a few pages of Haven there is am uneasy sense that the tale will turn out badly, although I should quickly add that there is hope in this story. The supposedly saintly Artt is "so heavenly minded that he is no earthly good", which is problematic, to say the least, because he is in charge. The island is inhospitable rather than a welcoming haven, but it might be habitable if Trian and Cormac would be allowed to employ their practical skills and earth wisdom. 
Donaghue weaves the repeated psalms of the daily monastic office into the narrative in a lovely and ominous way. Somehow God and Jesus are revered yet not heeded. 

The novel is not a condemnation of religious devotion but it does explore the ways in which spirituality which no longer honours Creation can lead to disaster. In a way it is a parable about our disconnection from the "signs and wonders" of the earth and sky and sea, whether we have a sense of the sacred or not. 

There is a lot to like about this novel even though I admit to an ongoing sense of dread about the outcome. I am glad I read it. 

One reviewer suggests that this isolated island resonates with the room of Donaghue's earlier novel, which I suppose is true. My takeaway is that those of us who are religious must regard our planet as our haven to be inhabited with respect for other creatures and the Creator. 

Oh yes, it took me a while to realize that the bird on the cover of the novel is a gannet, a wondrous avian creature which inhabits the air and the sea with remarkable grace. I've been entranced watching them dive from high above in the North Atlantic. 

                                                                             

                                                                               Skellig Michael