Although more than a decade has passed since I visited the Hebridean island of Iona, I have never stopped thinking about the feelings I experienced on those couple of days when I found myself transported away from the hustle and bustle of the world to a reality that was more spiritual than temporal in nature.

It must have been October 2006; I was living in Scotland where I spent four years (2004-2008) working in different parishes in Dalkeith, south of Edinburgh, and later on, in Dundee. In previous years, the parish had organised pilgrimages to Iona. I was curious to know what was so special about it.

Coming from the Mediterranean, Iona was not a familiar name for pilgrimages. Rome, Lourdes, Fatima and the Holy Land, or perhaps Santiago, were the names synonymous with pilgrimages. Iona had never crossed my mind, and if it had, it was a far away place lost in the mist of the northern islands of Scotland.

However, now it was different. Having lived in Scotland for three years, I felt I could not lose the opportunity. My younger brother, who was spending a year in Edinburgh, was also interested to visit Iona. So we decided to visit with a friend. To get there, one has to drive up to Oban, take the boat to Mull on the west coast of Scotland, and then another boat to Iona.

While the three of us were planning the journey we decided to stay at the Iona Catholic house of prayer on a three-day visit. There was a website for the house that one can still visit; it seemed the right place to stay at.

I remember e-mailing the person in charge to book our rooms. The three of us were so excited; it was going to be our first to the Hebrides and we looked forward to it as an adventure we would never forget.

The journey from Edinburgh to Oban was long but the voyage to Mull was calm. It seemed as if we were travelling to the edge of the world.

Iona [is] a peculiar place where time seems to have stopped

The stay at Iona was more than an adventure. It was unforgettable. It was truly a spiritual experience in the broadest sense of the word, not a purely religious visit as when one goes to Lourdes or visits the Holy Land, two places I went to later on.

Iona is a small island; perhaps two miles long by one mile wide. The main spot on the island is the abbey church that dates back to the time of Saint Columba, the fifth-century British missionary who lived on the isle.

It is now home to the Iona community, an ecumenical body that comes together to pray on the island and which was founded by George MacLeod, an inspirational figure whose name is now tied to the island and its history.

The old Iona Abbey building.

Everything about Iona makes for a thorough spiritual experience: The sparsely-populated island, the abbey at the edge of the eastern side of the isle, the vivid and suggestive colours of stone, sea and sky, the peaceful and tranquil environment that surrounds the place, the pilgrims walking to and from the abbey, the romantic ruins of the nunnery and the primitive milieu all help to make Iona such a peculiar place where time seems to have stopped and man has not yet prevailed.

No wonder that English writer Samuel Johnson had this to say about the place: “That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Iona!”

Iona has, in fact, inspired several poets, musicians and painters. After visiting the island for the first time, the German composer Felix Mendelssohn wrote: “When in some future time I shall sit in a madly crowded assembly... and the wish arises to retire into the loneliness, I shall think of Iona... .” Scotland’s wild nature and the sound of waves breaking on the rock inspired his well-known Hebrides Overture, written between 1830 and 1832.

In more recent times, the Anglo-Catholic writer and mystic Evelyn Underhill recalled the words of a Scottish gardener who, on meeting someone newly returned from the island of Iona, remarked, “Ah! Iona is a very thin place”. When asked what he meant, he answered, “There’s very little between Iona and the Lord” (from Collected Papers of Evelyn Underhill, edited by Lucy Menzies, 1946).

I believe that if there is a ‘thin place’ where the mystic and the contemplative want to experience the divine, Iona is one such spot. When I searched online to understand the term better, I came across the following: “Thin places are places of energy. A place where the veil between this world and the eternal world is thin. A thin place is where one can walk in two worlds – the worlds are fused together, knitted loosely where the differences can be discerned or tightly where the two worlds become one.”

Marble Celtic Cross war memorial with wreath on Martyrs’ Bay.

I can vouch that Iona is one such place, a place where the mind stands still, the soul feels at home, the spirit feels its thirst quenched and the body feels relieved.

Having experienced the peace and serenity of a singular place as Iona, I felt called to share what I went through myself. Feelings of spiritual warmth and being at home, notions of wanting to go back, not just to visit but to stay for a couple of days and simply be there to enjoy the harmony of creation; a creation that has not yet been tainted by human interference are what make Iona a special place for me.

Being not so easily accessible is part of the mystique that the place offers. It is a shame that the ‘sacred island’ of Iona is not as popular as Lourdes and Compostela, but then, who knows, perhaps it would be better to remain just like this to allow the place to remain so primitive and bare. God seems to be more at home where nature has not yet been spoilt. May Iona remain so for centuries to come!