"a less oriental mode of expressing friendship": What happened to the holy kiss?

In reading some articles about the historical development of liturgy, I came across a quote which I thought would be of especial interest to my friend Mark Simpson:

The "Offertory" was followed by the silent prayer of the celebrant and the collect "Ad pacem," after which the people saluted each other, the sexes seated apart, with the "Kiss of peace," or the "Pax." This had a place in every ancient liturgy, and is founded upon the apostolic injunction, "Salute one another with a holy kiss;"* but it is now replaced by a less oriental mode of expressing friendship. In the Roman order it is confined to the celebrant and assistant clergy. In the Anglican office it is omitted altogether. Other liturgies direct the communicants to bow to one another, or to clasp hands, and some are content with the versicle and response, "The peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all;" "Amen."
* Rom. 16:16; 1 Cor. 16:20; 2 Cor. 13:12; 1 Thess. 5:26; 1 Pet. 5:14.
(T. F. Fotheringham, '"The Offering" or the Eucharistic Office of the Celtic Church', The American Journal of Theology, Vol. 9, No. 2. (Apr., 1905), 309-322 (p. 314))

There are some moments of human interest in this article. One that I liked was the following:

"Something has just come into my heart," said one of the laborers at Iona; something has just now come into my heart. I know not what it is that makes me so glad that I do not feel the weight of the burden I am carrying."
"It is caused," said another of the company, "by the prayers of our good pastor Columba, who, because he cannot always be with us in person, sends out his prayers to visit us with refreshment in the fields."
(Ibid, p. 320 (reformatted))

While my carrying of physical burdens is largely limited to carrying bags and suitcases overladen with books, I can think of moments where I could have said, "Something has just come into my heart [...] I know not what it is that makes me so glad that I do not feel the weight of the burden I am carrying."

I have at times had an experience of an anxiety suddenly lifting off me without any apparent reason. It wouldn't surprise me if this was because of someone else's prayers at that moment.

Celtic Christianity has become something of a bandwagon in recent years. One of the dangers of bandwagons is not only that they encourage an unthinking, undiscerning, misapplication of the set of ideas in question but also that the tastelessness of the brand as marketed tempts others to reject what is often a helpful insight that got the wagon rolling. Hence I am rather unqualified to comment on Celtic Christianity as it truly was, but, on the evidence of this article (which is perhaps a little overeager to argue the continuity between ancient Celts and the Presbyterians of the author's own time), there was a mixture of a vibrancy and spontaneity with a sense of right order that verged on severity (such as flogging the minister if he tripped over his words at one part of the communion service):

In a church founded by Finian the Leper (the Apostle of Deeside) anyone who became drowsy was "ducked in the waters of the neighboring lake, because Finian said that his church was built for prayer, not for sleep."*
*Lee Lecture.
(Ibid., p. 321)