The work, not of men, but of angels. —Gerald of Wales

With quills and ink of iron gall on folded vellum, 
monks in their cells labored in hives of stone, 
producing pages that glistened like honey, 
sweetening the word of God. On this page, the chi 
commands the eye, its arm swooping to the left
in an elegant scrawl, the smaller rho and iota 
nestled to the right. Knotwork fills each letter 
to the brim. Three angels fly from the crossed
arms, heaven and earth intertwined, coiled spirals 
connected by curves. Despite the gleam, no gold 
is used, just layers of color built up like enamel.
In the interstices, creatures of air: birds and moths; 
creatures of sea: fish and otters; creatures of land: 
cats and mice. For the whole world was holy,
not just parts of it. The world was the Book of God. 
The alphabet shimmered and buzzed with beauty.
~Barbara Crooker “Book of Kells: Chi Rho”

In the summer of 2013, Dan and I wrapped up our 3 week Ireland trip with one day in Dublin before flying home. I wasn’t sure I could take in one more thing into my super-saturated brain but am grateful Dan gently led me to the exhibit of the Book of Kells at Trinity College along with the incredible library right above it.

I needed to see the amazing things of which man is capable. My weariness was paltry compared to the immense effort of these dedicated writers and artists.

The Book of Kells is an intricately illustrated ninth century version of the four Gospels on the Isle of Iona, meticulously decorated by young Irish monks with quill pens and the finest of brushes and artistic flourish. Two original pages are on display at the library, changed every eight weeks – the brief look one is allowed scarcely does justice to the painstaking detail contained in every shimmering letter and design. No photography is allowed of the book itself.

Upstairs, is the “Long Room” of 200,000 antiquarian books dating back centuries, lined by busts of writers and philosophers. It is inspiring to think of the millions of hours of illuminated thought contained within those leather bindings.

The written word is precious but so transient on earth; it takes preservationist specialists to keep these ancient books from crumbling to dust, a slowly disintegrating alphabet of letters potentially lost forever to future generations.

The original Word is even more precious, abiding forever in the hearts and minds of men, and exists everlasting sitting at the right hand of God, never to turn to dust. He is the inspiration for the intricate beauty of the illustrated Gospels we saw that day.

God is the ultimate source of wisdom for civilization’s greatest writers and poets. He alone has turned darkness into light even in man’s most desperate hours. Our weariness dissipates along with the shadows.

God is no stranger to us – He meets us in His Word and our reading is our ladder up to Him. In that meeting, we are forever His.