A man lived in an old stone cottage that was badly in need of repair. He made do, day-by-day, and got on with his life, struggling to wrench a living from the meager land. Eventually the rain that leaked in on him got too heavy and the wind around his ears was too cold. He had to do something about the gap in his wall.

Up on the hillside there was an ancient Celtic cross. It had stood there since time immemorial. It was silent and uncomplaining in the Atlantic gales that swept over it, but its very silence said something about continuity, community, and interrelatedness. It had become a part of the local imagination and without ever really thinking about it, the people knew, with a sound instinct, that it was very important. It had something to say about what they hoped to be. It has some…