St Michael of Mercy

 

As I drift off to sleep on this 7th day of St Ives, I think of the Mercy we all saw today inside the Church of St Michael. It is something I had seen before and could not wait to see it again.

"Emmie?"

"Yes?" she said.

"You are about to see my most favorite part of St Michael's Mount, and you're going to love it!"

She took my word for it, graciously (as she always does, while knowing that one can never really predict what an American might do, or say, or like). We proceeded up the cobbled path that led us to the Castle.

There were splendid pieces of furniture, and weapons, and dishes, and silver, and rooms filled with ancient artifacts that dazzled the eye. In each room stood a Docent, willing and talented at explaining any-and-every thing about the families who used to live there, and the family in residence now. They spoke of the family as though they were normal, hard-working and kind, caring for those who work in that magnificent place. We were told that the Church holds services at 11am each Sunday, and that if we wished to go, we could. I decided instantly: I WILL go! Just the thought of ascending that steep hill, not to observe or sight-see, but to Worship. 

And it is this that brought us to my most favored of all the items in the castle of St Michael's Mount: St Michael, himself, standing on a simple pedestal holding the cross, and subduing Lucifer. Michael did not look harsh, or alarmed, or any of those earthly tendencies that might come forth when faced with something or someone evil. The angel's body leaned toward Lucifer, his hand in the UP position, held out, not in domination but in Mercy. As if remembering that they two had once been in Heaven together before Lucifer took it upon himself to become like God. 

I have not studied this statue, nor the theology surrounding Michael; nor do I understand yet why the sculptor placed the hand upward. All I know is that it touched me, and will go on doing so.

After that splendid moment, we descended the cobbles and began walking back across the causeway - which was fine, until all of a sudden the tide came in and made us think of getting into boats. But it was too late for boats! Someone shouted, "My feet! My shoes!" and then everyone around us scrambled. Now halfway between the Mount and the shore, there was nothing for it but to take off socks and shoes, and dash.

It is past my bedtime, dear Readers, so I've got to stop it right there. Tomorrow we will pack up and leave our cottage...and we will have to say goodbye. I don't want to think about that right now, but I will have to tomorrow when the suitcases are filled, and the car holding Rosie and Ted, and the train with Emmie inside, make their way back to reality, leaving the SconeLady behind.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady