Surprised by Byland

On the way to Ampleforth I passed through Byland, a tiny settlement with, as far as I could tell, a pub and a couple of farms. And some very impressive looking ruins. It all looked intriguing, so I made a mental note to circle back after the service in the monastery. 

Well, what a revelation. Byland Abbey, a place I'd never heard of, turned out to be one of the biggest and most significant Cistercian abbeys in medieval England. At its heyday it was home to around 240 monks and lay brothers, and even though it's been a ruin since the Reformation, the remains are extensive and very evocative ... oh, and thanks to English Heritage, really well maintained and completely free to visit. 

I did what I love to do around these shells of the medieval world: wandered around trying to enter into the life experience of those who'd been there at it's height. Thinking of the hardships, yes; the disease and discomforts, the cold and hunger, the troubles of incessant warfare. But also thinking of the glories of it all. Imagining the beauty and artistry of the place before the misplaced iconoclasm of the reformers brought such unnecessary destruction. Trying to feel the intensity of devotion that led to the creation of such places. Standing in the wreck of the choir and listening for the faintest echo of the inspired chants and prayer that used to resonate through the stones hour upon hour, day after day, a seemingly endless flow of love towards God. It was a delight to join in for a while, even if I was five centuries late.

In both these pilgrimages I've found that the places which have affected me most have been surprises, not the big famous places I expected to have the greatest impact. Byland Abbey is certainly one for this trip, a place that will live with me. 

///fiery.hopes.somebody