Green Shores, Quiet Souls: Students on Pilgrimage

Anna Burnham, and the Rev. Alanna Sullivan took a group of eight students, Claire Jiang '28, Vargas Avellan '27, Louise Kim '27, Marty Martinage MDiv III, Luis Pabon Rico (GSAS '28), Felix Chen '29, Charlotte Stokes '27, and Jake Dixon '28, to the Isle of Iona following Commencement in May. 

By Anna Burnham
Student Programs Manager
The Memorial Church

In the 1930s, a Presbyterian minister serving under-resourced neighborhoods in the industrial city of Glasgow undertook a massive project. Like St. Francis before him, the Rev. George MacLeod decided to rebuild a church. 

The church was the ancient abbey on the Isle of Iona—a tiny island off the west coast of Scotland, so remote that it takes planes, trains, and multiple ferries to reach. Established in 563 by Irish abbot and missionary St. Columba, the abbey had deteriorated into ruins before MacLeod and his followers rebuilt it in the 1930s. 

The island has always been known as a thin place” where the veil between heaven and earth is particularly see-through. That tradition of pilgrimage to the island was revitalized, and there was now a vessel to hold and facilitate it: the Iona Community, the ecumenical community founded by MacLeod that still runs the abbey and its guesthouse, and welcomes people from all over the world to stay and experience life within its walls. 

Just after commencement, the Rev. Alanna Sullivan and I led a group of eight Harvard students on a pilgrimage to this remote, holy place. I had visited Iona during a summer in Scotland in 2018 and remained deeply moved by my brief time there, always longing to return. As my years working with students at MemChurch continued to tick upward (this year will be my sixth school year!), that longing evolved into a desire to bring students there and to host my favorite form of student programming: the creation of a vessel in which students can have experiences, seek transformation, ask big questions, and leave room for a spark of the divine to show itself.

The Iona Community welcomes people from around the world, and no one really knows who will be part of the community for the week until arrival day. Our group of 10 was met by another large group: 19 German pastors who quickly became friends. There were also guests from the Netherlands, throughout Great Britain, and other parts of Europe. 

The days at Iona Abbey unfold in a rhythm of worship, meals, work, and programming. Everyone is assigned to a “task team.” Many of our group were assigned to bathroom duty, which they undertook with total grace, diligence, and humility. There is worship twice daily, interwoven with programming, open space for personal reflection, and conversations over heartfelt meals prepared for us by the abbey staff and volunteer team. 

Strangers on Saturday become a community by Friday. Friendships, recurring jokes, and little patterns form. It’s exceptional to witness.

It’s hard to articulate the beauty of Iona in words, to adequately describe how sacred it feels there, how the air feels extra fresh, how the wind whips off the Atlantic, how every shade of green and blade of grass seems to speak to the vision and cosmic palette of the Creator. It is deeply of this world and yet apart from it, too. There is a sense that this is a place where things out of time and place can happen. 

Over the course of our week, I was able to observe the students as they experienced this sacred place, watch as they had experiences that were both fulfilling and thought-provoking, and facilitate conversations as they were given time, space, and opportunity to wonder, “What is my understanding of God? What kind of worship style speaks to me most? Where do I find deepest spiritual fulfillment?” 

I watched their bonds with each other and with the other guests at the abbey grow. I watched them plot wild adventures around the island and sit in silence, staring at the water. On Tuesday’s walking pilgrimage around the island, I saw them fall into comfortable conversations with people from different cultures who had been strangers just days before. I spoke with them as they processed unexpected emotions and memories that arose. I felt proud when they volunteered to take leadership roles in daily worship. I felt moved when other abbey guests commented on the joy and spirit the youth of our students brought them. 

I also felt grateful for all they taught me, the wisdom and joy they offered; the bravery they showed in asking hard questions of me, of themselves, and of each other. 

The hope of a pilgrimage is that one will be transformed in some way by the act of undertaking the journey. I cannot speak for each of our eight students and what they experienced or underwent internally. I hope they will share more of that story with you in time. I only know that movement of the Spirit happened, and that these travel and pilgrimage experiences remain irreplaceable for the space they create for that movement of the Spirit, and that I am grateful for it all.