Durham Cathedral

Feast Day: March 20th

Thanks to Bede, our first glimpse of Cuthbert (ch. 1) is of a young boy playing games with his friends, keen and always eager to win, until one precocious infant (‘no more than three years old’) urged him to more serious pursuits, addressing him as ‘most holy priest and bishop’: ‘how ill it befits you to play with children, you whom the Lord has marked out to instil virtue into your elders!’ That God had plans for the young Cuthbert was even more apparent some years later (ch. 4) when he was shepherding a flock of sheep in the hills, on night watch while his companions slept, and was granted a vision of angels descending to escort ‘the spirit of some holy man’ up into heaven. This was 31 August 651, and next day Cuthbert was told that his vision had coincided with the death of Aidan, bishop of Lindisfarne and indeed a man of outstanding holiness, who had been summoned from Iona by king Oswald to further the spread of Christianity throughout Northumbria. The young man took the vision as a sign that God was calling him to follow in Aidan’s footsteps, and abandoning his shepherding he ‘decided to enter a monastery’.

Childhood prophecies and visitations of angels are, of course, the stuff of hagiography (tinged with echoes of biblical stories). It is, however, a matter of history that the monastery entered by Cuthbert was Melrose, and thus likely that the hills where he had been shepherding were located in what we now call the Scottish borders, but in the seventh century were part of that great swathe of lands from the Humber to the Forth which made up the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria. The choice of Melrose for Cuthbert, rather than Aidan’s Lindisfarne, was perhaps because it was his ‘local’ monastery; more specifically it was down to the influence of the prior of Melrose, Boisil, who is another of those who had premonitions that Cuthbert was destined for holiness. Boisil (ch. 6) saw Cuthbert arrive outside the monastery gates and entrust his ‘horse and spear’ (the trappings of his secular status) to a servant, then enter the church to pray. Boisil was the first to welcome the young recruit, hailing him to his fellow-monks ‘Behold the servant of the Lord’, and recommending him to abbot Eata for admission to the community.

Under Boisil’s guidance, Cuthbert zealously adopted the monastic life: he ‘watched, prayed, worked and read harder than anyone else.’ When abbot Eata moved south in what proved to be an abortive attempt to establish a monastery at Ripon, Cuthbert was one of the monks who accompanied him, appointed as guest-master of the new foundation: then, with Eata and his brethren ejected from there by Wilfrid, Cuthbert returned to Melrose and the tutelage of prior Boisil, only to be struck down by the plague then sweeping the country (ch. 8). His fellow-monks spent the whole night in a vigil of prayer for his recovery, ‘for they felt they could not do without him on account of his holiness.’ Cuthbert survived, albeit subject to bouts of continued pain for the rest of his life, but strengthened in the knowledge of the prayers of his brethren. When Boisil in turn succumbed to the plague, knowing that death was not far off, he spent the last seven days of his life reading his copy of St John’s Gospel together with Cuthbert, and hinting (like the child in the playground) that his favoured disciple would one day be a bishop. It is perhaps to these final moments with Boisil that the future bishop Cuthbert traced his love of the fourth gospel, a copy of which would one day lie beside him in his own coffin.

Around 662 Cuthbert succeeded Boisil as prior of Melrose, setting a high example of the religious life for his monks to follow (ch. 9). His influence extended well beyond the monastery walls, as he followed the example of Boisil and Aidan in undertaking extensive journeys (‘sometimes on horseback, more often on foot’) to preach and teach the word of God. Legend has it that on one such journey he pitched his tent in the country outside the walls of Edinburgh, the site commemorated by successive churches dedicated to St Cuthbert below the castle rock. Another journey brought him to the coast at Coldingham, where St Ebba, hearing of his reputation, invited him to her monastery ‘to exhort the community’ (ch.10); and where he was observed going down to the beach at dead of night to spend hours in prayer ‘up to his arms and neck’ in the cold waters of the North Sea, emerging to have his feet warmed and dried by a pair of otters, who received Cuthbert’s blessing before slipping back into the sea. Once on his travels (ch.12) he and a boy accompanying him found themselves without food, and spotted an eagle land on the riverbank with the prize of a newly captured fish. The boy grabbed the fish, only to be instructed by Cuthbert to cut it in half and return a portion to the eagle, whom God had sent to provide for their needs. Like the prophets of the Old Testament, and Jesus in the wilderness, Cuthbert, the faithful man of God, trusted that he and his companion would not go hungry.

Later in the 660’s (?) abbot Eata transferred Cuthbert as prior to the monastery on Lindisfarne (ch.16), to lead the community there by the example of his holy life, a regime of prayer and self-discipline, accompanied by an increasing repute for the miraculous cures attributed to his intercessions. But the main reason for his move to Lindisfarne was probably the demand for his diplomatic and peace-making skills in the wake of the Synod of Whitby and its acceptance of ‘Roman’ practices. Cuthbert faced opposition from ‘some of the monks who preferred their old way of life to the rule’, but such was his saintliness and patience that he gradually and painstakingly won over their obedience. In Bede’s summary of his efforts, we can detect something of the move away from ancient habits derived from Iona to the more formal structure of a monastic rule.

The demands on Cuthbert in the monastery, and his ever-increasing reputation outside it, fostered in him the desire to retreat into solitude, and to pursue his life of prayer in company with God alone (ch. 17). He first withdrew to a more secluded spot on Lindisfarne, the rocky outcrop known to this day as ‘St Cuthbert’s Isle’, and then across the water to the inner Farne, an island reputedly ‘haunted by devils; Cuthbert was the first man brave enough to live there alone.’ Here with the assistance of his brethren he built three structures – a dwelling for himself, an adjacent oratory, and a guest-house for visitors – much of the labour done with his own hands, shifting heavy stones ‘with the help of angels’. Despite the rocky ground, a pit was dug which, thanks to Cuthbert’s prayers, became a well-spring supplying him with water. He lived off the crops he grew for himself, once he had tamed the island’s birds out of carrying off the grain for themselves (when they were not stealing straw from the roof of the guesthouse to build their nests), one contrite raven even returning with the gift of a lump of pig’s lard, which Cuthbert liked to show to visitors and invite them to grease their shoes with it (chs. 19-20). Cuthbert’s easy rapport with the birds of inner Farne was to become one of the most endearing of the stories which came to surround him, but it is not until the writings of Reginald of Durham in the later 12^th cent. that we first hear specifically of his protection of the island’s eider ducks (’Cuddy’s ducks’).

Cuthbert may have yearned for isolation, but the visitors still came across the water from near and far to be consoled by his preaching and cured of their ailments through his prayers. Nor in the end could he keep at bay the wider troubles of the Northumbrian church, and that prophecy of Boisil’s which haunted him that he would one day become a bishop. The moment came at a synod presided over by Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the presence of king Ecgfrith of Northumbria, which named Cuthbert bishop of Hexham (ch. 24). It took a delegation sailing across to the inner Farne led by the king himself to plead with Cuthbert in person – and an arrangement with his old abbot and master Eata to exchange the see of Hexham for that of Lindisfarne – finally to persuade him out of his reluctance. Cuthbert was consecrated bishop of Lindisfarne at York on Easter Day 685.?.

For Bede, Cuthbert was the model bishop (ch. 26), ‘protecting the flock committed to him by constant prayer on their behalf.’ The travels of this ‘holy shepherd …. doing the rounds of his sheep-folds’, preaching to his people far and wide, and his prayers effecting many miracles of healing, took him over to the west at Carlisle (chs. 27-8) and south to ‘a convent of virgins close to the mouth of the Tyne’ (ch. 35, S. Shields?) – pastoral journeys recalled still in the exquisitely jewelled pectoral cross and portable altar removed from his coffin and on display in the Cathedral museum in Durham – but his heart remained on the inner Farne: sensing that he did not have long to live, he had returned here to his hermit’s cell before the end of 686, in only the second year of his episcopate. Bede (chs. 37-40) records his final days through the eye-witness account of the monk Herefrith, who tended to the dying Cuthbert, passing back and forth between the inner Farne and the brethren waiting anxiously for news on Lindisfarne. It was Cuthbert’s wish to be buried in the solitude of his hermitage ‘where I have fought my fight for the Lord’, but the monks wanted his resting-place to be with them at the heart of the monastery, befitting the public memory of their beloved brother (and perhaps, more prosaically, where they might control access to his tomb). Cuthbert at last acceded to their wishes, and on his death his body was transported back to Lindisfarne, to be buried (on 20 March 687) beneath the floor to the right of the altar in the monastery church.

Eleven years later (ch. 42) the monks prepared a new wooden coffin with the intention of ‘elevating’ Cuthbert’s remains to greater prominence and visibility, and his body was exhumed from its burial place. To their amazement, ‘they found the body completely intact, looking as though still alive, and the joints of the limbs still flexible: it seemed not dead but sleeping.’ So began the sainthood of Cuthbert, their revered prior and bishop not only interceding for them in the heavenly realm but now miraculously revealed in his incorrupt body to be a ‘living’ presence among them on earth. So in the centuries to come, eventually uprooted by the Viking invasions, the monks of Lindisfarne went nowhere without the treasured coffin and its saintly contents, spending long years at Chester-le-Street and finally settling around the turn of the first millennium on the peninsula of the river Wear in Durham. Then came the Norman conquerors, who lost no time in turning the presence of Cuthbert to their own advantage, in 1083 supplanting the last of the Anglo-Saxon community with a new Benedictine foundation to guard his legacy, and ten years later beginning the building of their majestic cathedral to house his remains. On 29 August 1104 the treasured coffin, after being reverently opened to reveal the still ‘intact’ body of Cuthbert, was placed in its shrine behind the High Altar of the partially-completed cathedral. When, at the end of 1539, the agents of Henry VIII arrived on their mission to destroy the shrine, Cuthbert’s miraculous presence would successfully defy attempts to throw away his bones, enabling him to be reburied on the very same spot where his shrine had stood, and where he rests to this day.

(David Hunt, Durham: May 2025)

Dr David Hunt is a retired Senior Lecturer in Classics and Ancient History at the University of Durham. He has contributed three chapters on the late Roman empire to the new Cambridge Ancient History, and has also written articles on the theme of Christianity in Ammianus Marcellinus; he is currently Lay Canon Emeritus at Durham Cathedral.

On March 8 we celebrate the feast day of Saint Duthac, a Bishop of Ross in Scotland. Although it seems that there was some disagreement over the exact period in which he flourished, the consensus seems to be that the saint reposed around the year 1068. In his account of Saint Duthac, Canon O’Hanlon provides a good overview of the sources for the Bishop’s career, his links with Ireland and some of his miracles.

St. Duthac or Dubthac, Patron and Bishop of Ross, Scotland.

[Eleventh Century.]

Despising alike the applause of princes and of people, this holy man avoided company, banqueting, and all worldly comforts. Yet, by this course of life, he acquired fame among the people of Britain and Ireland, where his travels produced grace. A Life of St. Duthac was written by Father Patrick Anderson, a Scotch Jesuit, who compiled Lives of the Scottish Saints, which manuscript had been preserved, in the Scotch College, at Paris. He flourished, in the beginning of the seventeenth century.

The Rt. Rev. Bishop Challenor, the “Memorial of British Piety”, Rev. Alban Butler and Rev. S. Baring-Gould have their respective notices of Duthac. Also, the Bollandists, and Bishop Forbes, who give an account of this saint, tell us, that he sprung from no ignoble family of the Scoti, and that his wise instructors early imbued him with a knowledge of the Christian Faith. While engaged at his youthful studies, it pleased God to perform a wonderful miracle. His preceptor having sent him for fire to a workshop, snatching up with a tongs some burning thorns, the workman there cast them into the youth’s bosom. His clothes even remained unsinged and unscathed, while Duthac carried the burning thorns safely to his master. By Divine direction, it is stated, that Dubthac crossed over to Hibernia. There, he applied to study the precepts and laws of the Old and New Testament, and on his return to Scotland, he taught these publicly with all gentleness. Shortly after, he was consecrated by his co-bishops, as universal and chief pastor. He was remarkable, for his gift of miracles. One of these throws a picturesque light, on the manners of his time. Duthac had been invited to a feast, where one of the company, after drinking, had a sick headache. He had sent a portion of swine’s flesh, with a gold ring, by one of Duthac’s disciples; but, the latter, on passing a cemetery, laid down the flesh and ring there, desiring to offer prayers, for the souls departed. Meantime, a hungry kite snatched them up and flew away across a river, towards a dense wood. Fearing the anger, both of the donor and of his master, the disciple straightway returned, with an account of what had happened. Whereupon, St. Duthac retired for a few minutes, and he prayed; when the kite soon returned, and laid what he had taken, at the saint’s feet. Blessed Duthac accepted the ring, but he restored the flesh to that kite, which anon flew away. Again, in the case of a cake, made with honey and butter, food was miraculously increased, and the remains worked cures. While celebrating the feast of St. Finbarr of Cork, a canon of Dornoch Church caused a fat ox to be killed for the poor. Determining to carry a portion of it himself to St. Duthac, during a dark and stormy night; the spit, on which this food was carried, gave a light both coming and going.

According to Dempster, he wrote a Book, “Meditationes solitariae,” a Book “De Vanitate Philosophorum,” and a Book, “De Dei Nominibus ex S, Dionysio.” While some state, he flourished A.D. 807, others have it at A.D. 1249. The Office and Lessons of St. Duthac or Dubthac occur in the Breviary of Aberdeen, on the 8th of the March Ides, when his death occurred, and when his festival is celebrated. The date for his demise, given by Bishop Forbes, is A.D. 1068. If the supplement to Fordun may be trusted, St. Duthac had another tie to Scotland, in his disciple Malisius or Maeliosa, who, he prophesied, should become Episcopus Scotorum. The Annals of Ulster enter his decease, at A.D. 1065; and, while calling him Albanach, the principal Confessor of Erin and Alban, they state, that he rested at Armagh. He was venerated in Ross, and indeed throughout all Scotland, by princes and people. He flourished during the time of Vilhelmus, or Gulielmus, the ninety-third King of Scotland, according to Lesley. This should bring him into the twelfth century. Again, Hector Boece states the report, that St. Duthac lived, during the reign of Alexander II., and, it is said, he was preceptor to Blessed Gilbert, Bishop of Cathanensis. He is greatly honoured, in the Church of Tayne, in the diocese of Ross, and to this place, great numbers of pilgrims resorted.

Seven years after death, his body was found incorrupt, and his relics were translated to a grander shrine. His shirt, his stock, and his bell, were preserved. The following places in Scotland are named after him: Kilduich, at the head of Loch Duich; Kilduthie, near the Loch of Leys; Arduthie close to Stonehaven, and the Chapel of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of St. Dupthac, at Arbroath. He is reputed to have foretold an invasion of the Danes, which happened A.D, 1263, when they were defeated by Alexander Stuart, the great grandfather to King Robert. In the Kalendar of Hyrdmanstoun, at the viii. Ides, or 8th of March, is entered St. Duthac, Bishop and Confessor. The same entry occurs in the Kalendar of Arbuthnott, and in that of Aberdeen, his feast is similarly noted, with the remark, that he had a Duplex Office, consisting of Nine Lessons. In Adam King’s Kalendar, at the 8th of March, is entered S. Duthake bischope and cofess. in scot, vnder King Alexander 2. Dempster states, that in the town of Thana, Duthac, Bishop of Ross, whose holiness was proved by frequent miracles, had been venerated, on the 8th of March. Also, David Camerarius, at the same date, has St. Duthac, Confessor and Bishop of Ross, renowned for his sanctity, in the provinces of Ross and Moray, in Scotland. We also find this holy bishop noted, in the “Circle of the Seasons,” and in the Martyrology of Cologne.

Written by Michele Ainley

Michele founded and writes in OMNIUM SANCTORUM HIBERNIAE. Since 2009 she has set out to document Irelands many Saints. A proportion of them have a great deal of cross over with Scotland’s saints - many of whom are actually from Ireland - St Columba, St Moluag, St Adomnan to name just a few. Michele has kindly allowed us to reproduce this article here.

If you also fancy a pilgrimage why don’t you look up the Northern Pilgrims Way a website dedicated to helping people rediscover Northern Saints and the ancient pilgrimage routes of the area.

On March 10, we commemorate a Scottish saint, Kessog (Kessoc) of Lennox, also known as Kessog of Luss . It is claimed that this saint was a native of Cashel and related to the ruling family of Munster. One of the sources, the lessons from the Aberdeen Breviary, begins: ‘Kessog, the noble confessor of Christ, drew his origin and name from the state of Munster and the stock of illustrious Irish kings…’ However, the saint appears to be unattested in Irish sources, his name is not found on the Irish calendars of the saints, nor in the Irish genealogies or Annals. It was suggested by W.J.Watson in his 1926 study of Scottish place names that our saint may be the same as a Saint Cessán who acted as a chaplain to Saint Patrick:

Cessóc, Ceaság, March 10, is stated by the Aberdeen Breviary to have been born in Cashel in Munster, of royal family, a statement which would be of much interest if it were confirmed. He is perhaps the same as Cessán, who is styled ‘son of the king of Alba, and a chaplain of Patrick.’ His name is a reduced form of some compound beginning with cess, a spear. He is specially connected with Luss on Loch Lomond. In 1566 (RMS) mention is made of ‘the lands of Buchquhannan, with the bell and alms of St. Cassog’ (cum campana et elimosina S. Cassogi). On the east he is the patron of Auchterarder, ‘ecclesia Sancti Mechesseoc de Kohterardeuar,’ 1200 (Chart. Inch.), ‘ Sancti Mahessoc de huctherardouer,’ 1211, 2b. Tom mo Cheasaig, ‘my-Kessock’s knoll,’ and Féill mo Cheasaig, ‘St. Kessock’s fair,’ are at Comrie and Callander in Perthshire. Cladh nan Ceasanach in Glenfinglas, near Glen Main Burn, seems to mean ‘graveyard of St. Kessock’s people.’ In Strathearn there is ‘ Barrnakillis (Church-hill) with the chapel and holy bell of St. Kessog,’ 1538, 1542 (RMS). Port Cheiseig, Kessock Ferry on the Beauly Firth, is probably named after the saint. In 1270 (Reg. Pasl.) ‘Mauricius filius Gilmekesseoch ’ was witness at Paisley.

W.J. Watson, The History of the Celtic place-names of Scotland (Edinburgh, 1926), 277-78.

Watson also records the traditions preserved in the twelfth-century Book of Leinster that the Eoganacht dynasty of Munster were the forbears of the mormaer (mormáir) or Earl of Lennox. Doctor Alan Macquarrie, editor of the 2012 edition of the Aberdeen Breviary, suggests that this may provide a context for the claims that Cashel was the birthplace of Saint Kessog:

Perhaps an exotic Munster origin has been constructed for a local saint of Lennox to parallel the Munster origin claimed for the mormáir of Lennox. This may have lifted material from the vita of a Munster saint, but the source has not been traced.

A. Macquarrie, ed., Legends of Scottish Saints – Readings, Hymns and Prayers for the Commemorations of Scottish Saints in the Aberdeen Breviary (Dublin, 2012), 376.

So it seems that, as Watson remarked, the statement in the Aberdeen Breviary that Saint Kessog was born in Cashel in Munster, of royal family ‘would be of much interest if it were confirmed’, such confirmation still eludes us. Canon O’Hanlon, brings in all of the traditional sources in his account of the saint found in Volume III of his Lives of the Irish Saints:

St. Kessog, Mackessog, or Makkessagus, Bishop, and Confessor, Patron of Lennox, Scotland.
[Sixth Century]

This holy bishop is venerated, and not unmeritedly, in the church of Scud, on his natal day, as elsewhere in Scotland. There, while living on earth, he sought out the true way of living for ever in heaven. The Bollandists have the Acts of St. Kessog, at the 10th of March. These consist of two preliminary sections, with the lection of his Life, as found in the Breviary of Aberdeen. From this we learn, that it had been compiled, from a special Life of St. Kessog. Bishop Forbes gives an interesting account of this Scottish bishop. The Rev. S. Baring-Gould has some notices about St. Kessog. He was born,as we are told, in Cashel, the capital city of Munster, while his name and family were derived from the royal race of Irish Kings. From early youth, his virtues were remarkable, and he was distinguished for his miracles. His father was King of Cashel; and, in that station, he not only desired to cultivate the friendship of other Irish kings, but he hospitably invited them to banquets, and he even desired, that his noble guests should be accompanied by their sons. We learn, from the Aberdeen Breviary, that the King of Cashel was accustomed to receive his visitors, in great state, when trumpets and musical instruments welcomed them to his royal city. On one of those occasions, while Kessog, still a child, played with two other handsome young princes, who were sons of a visitor, near a lake, or pond, all fell into it, and Kessog alone escaped with life. He told the tale in secret to his father. A certain Elinthus, a citizen of Cashel, feared that such intelligence should cause a great commotion among the kings; and, he endeavoured, as best he could, to relate all the circumstances of the sad accident, so as to excuse Kessog, who, in some manner, seems to have been blamed, in connexion with its occurrence. Filled with grief and indignation, the strange kings vowed they would burn the city of the King of Cashel, and that they should devastate all his province. But, after a night spent in prayer by Kessog, at the request of his aftrighted father, the boy heard an angel of the Lord say to him, towards morning, “Kessog, rise at once from prayer, for the Lord hath heard you, since the kings’ sons, for whom you prayed, have come to life and are restored.” Soon were their parents satisfied on the matter, and their rejoicing was very great. Many other miracles were wrought by him, as related in his special Life. According to their National Breviary, St. Makkessagus ruled over the Scots, as a bishop. His feast occurs, on the 10th of March, and he flourished, it is said, A.D. 520. According to Dempster’s conjecture, he was elected from the Culdee order. His church was in Levinia, near the county of Menteth, and, it was called, “Templum Portus.” Celebrated for its fair, the place was much resorted to by crowds. He is stated to have written “Manipulum Precum,” lib. i., and ” Catechesin ad Neophytos,” lib. i. He is thought to have lived, in the Island of Inchta-vanach, where he devoted himself to prayer and to evangelizing the neighbourhood.

According to tradition, St. Kessog suffered martyrdom for the truth, at Bandry. There a cairn, and a large stone, on which an ecclesiastic’s effigy is carved, were erected to his memory. Another account has it, that he was martyred in a foreign land, and that, embalmed in sweet herbs, his body was brought to the church of Luss, his native place. There he was buried, according to the Breviary of Aberdeen. These herbs, called Luss, in Gaelic, germinated, and gave name to the parish. At the place of his burial is Carn-ma-cheasaig. Malcolm, Earl of Lennox, granted a charter to John of Luss, “for the reverence and honour of our patron the most holy man, the blessed Kessog.” In 1313, Robert Bruce granted a sanctuary-girth of three miles, to the church of Luss, in a charter, which is preserved at Buchanan. In the Lennox, a bell of St. Kessog was held in reverence, during the seventeenth century. The church of Auchterarder is dedicated to him, and he was honoured at Callander. In this latter place was a curious conical hill, or mound, which seems to be artificial. It is called Tom-ma-chessaig, and there an old church stood. In like manner, the fair of Fel-ma-chessaig is held, on the 21st of March, the 10th, old style. There is a Kessog’s fair, in Cumbrae, on the 3rd Wednesday in March, and there is a Kessog Ferry, at Inverness.

The Rev. Dr. Todd identifies this saint with Moshenoc, of Beitheach, at the 11th of March. According to the Kalendar of Arbuthnott, we find, at the 10th of March, or vi. Ides, St. Kessog, Bishop, and Confessor; while, the same notice occurs, in the Kalendar of the Breviary of Aberdeen, having the addition, that his Office was celebrated with Nine Lessons. Adam King’s Kalendar, at the 10th of this month, enters S. Makkessage bisch. and cof. in Scotl. Dempster, in his “Menologium Scoticum,” at this same date, has in Levinia, Makkessag, bishop, who is depicted in a military habit, and whose intercession is earnestly implored by soldiers. Also, in the Scottish entries, as found in the Kalendar of David Camerarius, we have, at the 10th of March, St. Makkessog, who is also called Kessog, Confessor and Bishop “in Boina Scotie provincia,” celebrated for the lustre of his miracles. The “Circle of the Seasons” has its note of St. Kessog, at this date. In art, it is said, he was represented as a soldier, with a stretched bow and arrows in his hand, and a quiver at his back.

Written by Michele Ainley

Michele founded and writes in OMNIUM SANCTORUM HIBERNIAE. Since 2009 she has set out to document Irelands many Saints. A proportion of them have a great deal of cross over with Scotland’s saints - many of whom are actually from Ireland - St Columba, St Moluag, St Adomnan to name just a few. Michele has kindly allowed us to reproduce this article here.

Saint Fumac is a well known figure in the village of Drummuir in the valley of Botriphnie in Morayshire.

Little is known about Fumac, and there is no evidence that he existed. However, this is not in any way to say that he did not exist! There are many thousands of Saints, but it was not until the year 993 that formal recognition was introduced. Prior to this, and as Fumac lived here around the year 580, a Saint was proclaimed by popular demand, and his saintly nature and good works earned him the title.

St. Fumac is still known and relevant today. Fumac’s Well is still there and its waters are still used for baptisms in the adjacent Church, as it always has been, although it is boiled beforehand as a precaution. The annual Fumac’s Fair has been in existence for as long as records exist, and is still celebrated every May, at Drummuir Railway Station (which today is on the preserved Keith & Dufftown Railway line) A large modern wooden statue of Fumac dominates the site, created by local chain saw carver Gary Shand at the Drummuir 21 Community Woodland Day in 2011. In July 2021 a replacement statue, also hewn from a single tree, was installed, as the 2011 version had deteriorated with the N.E. Scotland weather.

We do not know where Fumac was born, nor when. However, when he was old enough, he went to Saint Ninian’s Candida Casa at Whithorn to study to be a priest. When he qualified, he was sent north to spread Christianity. He walked all the way to Braemar, over the Cairn O’Mount pass, and established a religious community at Dinnet.

Some time later he travelled onwards, and came to Botriphnie, around the year 572 AD. At that time, Botriphnie could have been an important place. The population of Botriphnie was recorded as 953 souls in 1755, dropping to 572 in 1821, rising to 714 by 1841. The 2011 census gives the population for Drummuir as 110 people, although the boundaries may be different.

He certainly found a spring of good, clear water, and decided to settle here. St. Fumac’s Well has never been known to run dry. It is approximately 1.4 metres in diameter, about 45 cms deep, and still produces abundant clear water.

The well did fall into disuse, but the Rev. Dr. James S. Stephen (the last Minister to reside in the Manse) encouraged the Parishioners in 1972 to clear the undergrowth, reclaim the well, and create a path to it.

The well water’s properties are also claimed to be the reason why the Ministers of the Church there, have always been long lived! In the last 2 centuries there have been Ministers serving here for 56 years, 53 years and 51 years.. The present church dates from 1820. In front of it in the graveyard are the remains of the previous church, dating from 1677. This earlier church was dedicated to St. Fumac. This, in turn, replaced an even earlier church dating from the 12^th century.

St. Fumac was well known in the area and was concerned to help the sick and the suffering.

It is also claimed that once a year he would crawl around the boundary of Drummuir village on his hands and knees, praying constantly for the remission of the sins of the inhabitants, and for protection against the plague and pestilence. He also washed every morning, summer and winter, in the well water.

His good deeds and gentle manner endeared him to the inhabitants, so that when he died the people wanted to commemorate him and keep his memory alive. To do this, they would hold a Fumac Fair every May.

A wooden statue of Fumac was made, and on Fumac Fair day it would be processed around the village and down to the Fair, accompanied by bagpipers, singers, dancers and great merriment.

Between Fairs, the statue was in the charge of a widow of the village. One Fumac Fair, the widow took the statue, at the end of the procession, down to the well to wash it. The water from the washing was carefully kept, as it was believed to have curative powers. However, when the woman was washing it, it slipped from her hands into the river Isla which was in spate at that time, and it was washed away.

The statue went all the way down the Isla, and then the Deveron to Banff. Here, it was washed up on the sand banks there. It was spotted and taken to the local Minister, as it may have been a religious icon, or a pagan statue, or even a miracle. The Minister decided that it was a graven image obviously used by idolaters, and promptly had it broken up and burnt.

In the sanctuary of the Church there is a relic of St. Fumac’s days. In the early years following his death, the villagers carved a great Christian cross on a large stone, approximately 1.68 metres high. This standing stone was believed to have been used as a focal point of the Fair (maybe after the statue had been destroyed).

In either 1820 or 1840 the local blacksmith demolished the stone to use part of it as a hearth for his forge. This has been lost over time. However, a part of the stone is still in the church.

Another reminder of Fumac is at the farm of Mid Third. Here, the field nearest to Drummuir has always been known as “Fumac’s Field”. It is also believed that a field at Westerton Farm is also called “Fumac’s Field” and the annual fair may have been held here.

St. Fumac’s fair is organised by the environmental charity Drummuir 21. See www.drummuir21.co.uk, Drummuir 21 promotes the countryside, and the environment in and around Drummuir and Botriphnie, to be enjoyed by everyone. They maintain the all-abilities walking path network, promote the Fair, and many other events.

Tradition says that Fumac wore green tartan – but we have no details. In 2014, the pupils of Botriphnie Primary School studied St. Fumac, and decided that it would be a good project to create a new tartan for him. A group of senior pupils went to Johnston’s of Elgin woollen mills, and with their help, a bright and colourful tartan was produced. The pupils then sold the scarves at £12.50 each, to help school funds.The pupils followed this up with a video – see on “youtube” at botriphnie ad

In 2015, for the Fumac’s Fair, the Inverness Pipe Major, Mr. Lewis Barclay, composed the unique piece “Spirit of Fumac”, a slow air. This bagpipe music was sponsored by Drummuir Castle Estates.

It is good to keep alive this memory of a saintly man. It keeps people rooted in the area, gives a sense of continuing community, and involves local people of all ages in the annual event. Long may it continue.

1. "DRUMMUIR" by Alan C King is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0.

25 May is the feast of one of the greatest historians Britain has ever produced, the Venerable Bede, who died in 735. A saint and scholar whose works were read throughout Europe, Bede has done more than any other medieval writer to shape our understanding of British history in the early Middle Ages.

Born around 673, Bede was just seven years old when he entered the twinned monasteries of Wearmouth-Jarrow, near the River Tyne in Northumbria, where he spent the rest of his life. He never travelled far beyond this small corner of Northumbria, but his mind and his scholarly interests were without limits, ranging very widely through all kinds of historical and theological learning. Wearmouth-Jarrow had an excellent library and well-developed links to the wider international church, so Bede lived in a world of thriving monastic scholarship. In a short account of his life which he included at the end of one of his works, he tells us that the guiding principle of his life was his love of learning: ‘my chief delight has always been in study, teaching, and writing’, he says. This scholarly delight led him to take an interest in many topics, and his known works include numerous Biblical commentaries, poems, hymns, saints’ lives, writings on the calculation of the calendar, and a translation – sadly lost – of the Gospel of John into English.

He’s best known for his Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum (‘Ecclesiastical History of the English People’), which he wrote around 731. This is an invaluable source of information about the early Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, the conversion of the Anglo-Saxons, and the establishment of the English church in the seventh century. It’s full of fascinating stories and characters, giving us a vivid picture of an era which we’d otherwise know little about. Bede’s History was very widely read in the Middle Ages, and it had a huge and lasting impact on the English church’s understanding of its own sense of identity. When Bede wrote, there was no such country as England; the Anglo-Saxons lived in independent kingdoms, and it was Bede more than anyone else who popularised the idea that there was a single ‘people of the English’, sharing a common culture, language and religion. He helped to create the idea of England, which later Anglo-Saxon kings such as Alfred the Great worked to make a political reality.

However, Bede’s work isn’t only important for England, but for the history of Christianity in Britain as a whole. Naturally enough given its geographical location, Northumbria was a region with strong links to Ireland and Scotland, and the Anglo-Saxon Northumbrian church took its distinctive character from its place within this cultural sphere. Bede provides valuable details about the interaction between the Northumbrian kings and their counterparts to the north and west, as well as the monks and missionaries who travelled throughout the region. He’s an important source for the activities of saints such as Aidan, Columba, and Ninian, and for the influence of Iona on early Northumbrian Christianity.

In Bede’s narrative, the influence of the British and Irish churches sometimes comes into conflict with the traditions brought by the Roman missionaries who had converted the southern Anglo-Saxons, beginning with the mission of St Augustine of Canterbury to Kent in 597. In general, Bede identified himself more closely with the Roman than with British tradition, especially when it came to the tricky question of the dating of Easter. In the seventh century, there were alternative methods for calculating the date of Easter, and these variations could result in problems, since in places like Northumbria some people would be feasting while their neighbours were keeping the Lenten fast. Bede writes about this at length in his History, and he had sharp words for those in the Irish and Scottish churches who didn’t share his view. What this suggests, though, is that he cared very much that there should be unity across the church on this important issue. For Bede, as for other medieval scholars, the study of time and the calendar was not just a human science, but a sacred pursuit: the structure of the year reflected profound truths about the nature of the universe, planned and created by God. Time was part of God’s creation; to study it was to learn something about the mind of its divine creator, so getting the date of Easter right was crucially important.

As it turned out, the date of Bede’s own death was significant too. Though his feast is kept on 25 May, he actually died on 26 May, which was a meaningful date for two reasons: it’s the feast of St Augustine of Canterbury, whose story forms such an important part of Bede’s History, and in 735, the year of Bede’s death, it was also Ascension Day. A moving eyewitness account of Bede’s death was recorded by a monk named Cuthbert, a former pupil of Bede’s, who was present at his deathbed. He tells how in his last hours Bede continued to teach his students and to work on his English translation of John’s Gospel, singing to comfort himself the words of the Ascension liturgy: ‘O King of glory, who on this day ascended in triumph above all heavens, do not leave us orphaned, but send to us the Spirit of truth’. At the words ‘do not leave us orphaned’, Cuthbert says, Bede broke down in tears and wept. But his death was peaceful and happy, as he distributed his few possessions (just a few grains of pepper and incense) among his pupils, and bid them farewell. Cuthbert concludes, touchingly, that ‘all who saw and heard of the death of our father Bede declared that they had never known anyone end his days in such deep devotion and peace.’

Written by Eleanor Parker (and kindly allowed to be reproduced here), a Medievalist at Oxford University and well known author. Her most recent book; Winters in the World, draws magnificently on a wide variety of sources taking us through the Anglo-Saxon year. For those of us with an interest in how our faith developed on these Islands this book provides us with a window to understand that. She also has a blog with some of her earlier material on it, which you can find here: www.aclerkofoxford.blogspot.co.uk

Father Charles Balic, O.F.M: “The whole of Scotus’s theology is dominated by the notion of love. The characteristic note of this love is its absolute freedom. As love becomes more perfect and intense, freedom becomes more noble and integral both in God and in man”

The small Berwickshire town of Duns is not widely known for many things – I’m not saying that because I’m from Galashiels and inter-town rivalry is strong in the Borders. I’m saying it because Duns is a quaint little town off the beaten track. However, it punches above its weight when it comes to notable sons and daughters. The town produced former Scottish footballer and now pundit, Pat Nevin. Abraham Robertson, mathematician, James Gray, close friend of Robert Burns and himself a noted poet. It also boasts several rally drivers and a one-time governor of colonial New York. However, most famous amongst them is John Duns Scotus.

Born in the mid 13th century, by the time he was in his early teens he had moved with his uncle to Dumfries where he received the religious habit. He was ordained in Northampton in 1291. From there he went to Oxford, then Paris from 1302 – a time which included an expulsion, his time there ended in the latter part of 1307 when he travelled to Cologne. It was said that his departure from Paris was unexpected and happened whilst relaxing and talking with students. He was approached by the Franciscan Minister General on the banks of the Seine and left immediately, taking little or no belongings with him. Just as unexpected was his death just over a year later in Cologne where his mortal remains are today, in the Church of the Friars Minor, a short distance from the impressive cathedral, a building he would never have seen completed. His tomb bears the famous inscription, often used to describe the well-travelled Franciscan.

Scotia me genuit. Anglia me susceipt. Gallia me docuit. Colonia me tenet.

Scotland brought me forth. England sustained me.

France taught me. Cologne holds me.

The genius of Scotus is mixed. A man who was undoubtedly a great thinker, his abilities have gone largely unnoticed as he came in the wake of Thomas Aquinas. Why was that? In the case of Aquinas, his teaching tenure was lengthy, Scotus only taught for 10 years, and experienced no broad development of thought. Instead, records show he tinkered with corrections on a small scale, re-working some arguments but making no systematic break through. Ultimately, that lack of systematic work in his studies hamper a proper understanding of his thought, whilst St Thomas was scrupulous in the systematic formation of his works – and the result is clear for all to see in the durability of the work of Aquinas.

Whilst there is a lack in the collective works of Scotus, some of his thought stands out. Take for example the radical doctrine he proposed of the Univocity of Being. Scotus rejected the position of the neo-Augustinians under Henry of Ghent, who defended the doctrine of Divine Illumination – which says our empirical-rational knowledge is based on the illumination of God – a position which raises questions about human knowledge and its autonomy. Aquinas added clarifications but held to the key aspects of the doctrine. It was Scotus who radicalised the whole study of metaphysics when he posited his work. He said that it was not God but Being that was the proper object of human knowledge. His argument was that as humans it is impossible to consider being something, without first conceiving that something as having existed or existing. The position of Scotus denied any distinction between essence and existence and so followed the original position of Aristotle, being qua being, diverging from the work of Aquinas who had argued that in all finite beings, the essence of a thing is distinctive from its existence.

The realism of Scotus and the view he held on hylomorphism gives rise to a term closely associated with him. Haecceity or ‘the thisness’ however, is only one part of his work in this area - Scotus spoke of matter that exists with no form at all. He described prime matter as the matter which underpins all change. It was also the view of the eponymous thinker that amongst the vast number of created substances – not all of them are to be thought of as composites of form and matter – what does that mean? For Scotus it meant that spiritual substances do exist.

However, it is the idea of individuation in the work of Scotus that introduces haecceity. The thisness of an entity describes the ultimate unity of an individual, it is never the same and so completely contrary to a common nature that is also present in individuals. Our friendly thinker uses this as a basis which allows him to hold the position whereby he could say that only individuals exist, a point around which he structures his understanding of reality. Whilst the thisness is an intermediate distinction between a real and conceptual distinction, the conclusion of his thinking leads to the position which would allow a Scotian philosopher to say that the human soul exists in a state separate from the body and able to know, through intuition, the spiritual.

In his theological musings, Scotus is widely associated with the school of voluntarism, a position which is seen most clearly if we compare him to Aquinas. The former's approach meant that he often applies to God and His creatures, terms with the same meaning whilst St Thomas considered such a move ridiculous, instead employing analogical predication so that the words used to describe God would have different meaning to those used for creatures. Such a move for Scotus meant he often encountered difficulties when trying to counter the work of Aquinas with his theory of univocity. In some ways it reflects the systematic development of Aquinas and the rather messier dossier of work left by Scotus – the distinctions that St Thomas used were clear and precise whilst Scotus was often left falling over himself trying to explain that the same word used for different things could suitably explain his position. The confusion ultimately caused extensive difficulties to subsequent Scotian thinkers.

Natural theology provided fertile ground for the mind of Blessed John and his work De primo principio lays out a metaphysical argument for the existence of God. The work is widely seen as an exemplary piece of work in the particular field of theological thinking. His argumentation is typically complex with layers of arguments running throughout the work. His starting point considers a distinction between what are essentially ordered causes and accidental ordered causes. One of the parts of the accidental series still requires to be caused. An accidental cause is something which has no causal effects, the thing will still be something without the accident.

An example is probably helpful - so consider three sheep in a field. The old ewe is the mother of the mother and grandmother of the lamb – Ewe 1 generates Ewe 2 who then generates her own daughter lamb. The lamb that comes from Ewe 2 doesn’t depend on Ewe 1 because Ewe 1 could have fallen foul to predators on the hillside before Ewe 2 is brought to lambing – this is an accidentally ordered series of causes.

The essentially ordered series means that events that happen way after the first are dependent on the first happening. An example for this could be your body in any situation. If you like walking on the beach, then you won’t get going unless your hips rotate to extend your legs allowing your feet to move independently of each other.

These distinctions provide a lens for us to consider the argument of Scotus for the existence of God.

1. An effect cannot produce itself,

2. An effect cannot be produced by nothing at all,

3. A circle of causes is impossible,

4. An effect must be produced by something else,

5. No infinite regress in essentially ordered series of causes,

6. It would not be possible for an accidentally ordered series of causes to exist unless an essentially ordered series exist,

7. Thus, a first agent must exist.

After further defining final causality and a being first in pre-eminence, Scotus' argument culminates in his proof of the so-called triple primacy, a being first in efficient cause (the 7 steps above), final causality and pre-eminence, that has intellect and will and is eternal and of which there can be only one.

These are perhaps not obvious elements we recognise in the practice of the faith, but where Scotus is perhaps most widely recognised is his defence of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. His argument was included in Pius IX’s declaration of the dogma in 1854 which stated that “at the first moment of Her conception, Mary was preserved free from the stain of original sin, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ”. During his time at the end of the 13th and start of the 14th century the argument on the subject was raging with the opinion edging towards a suitably reverential respect for Our Lady whilst struggling to get over the question that the removal of original sin was dependent on the Passion of Our Lord. Many of the great thinkers denied the Immaculate Conception – Thomas Aquinas among them.

However, Scotus took the principle of Anselm of Canterbury, “He could do it, it was appropriate, therefore He did it” and developed the argument that whilst needing redemption, like the rest of humanity, Mary received – through the merits of the crucifixion – the blessing of conception without the stain of original sin. Such an argument does allow for three possibilities, that Mary never bore original sin, that she was marked for an instant or she was purged from sin in an instant. His statement - that whichever of the three was the most excellent should be attributed to Mary – was drowned out by waves of criticism in Paris. However, time eventually lifted the thought of Scotus to be exalted as “a correct expression of the faith of the Apostles” as the dogma of the Immaculate Conception was declared in 1854. Pope St John Paul II described him as the “defender of Mary’s Immaculate Conception” during his beatification in 1993, and so, no matter what the opinions of his more confusing thought – of which there is undoubtedly a lot – Scotus can be recognised as the early formatter of an important dogma of the Church.

Those words of John Paul II were echoed by Benedict XVI in a catechetical audience on Scotus, quoting his predecessor, Pope Benedict said that they “sum up the important contribution that Duns Scotus made to the history of theology”[1] Benedict reminded those listening to him – and us today – that Scotus was prepared to go against the flow of his contemporary Christian thinkers when he spoke of the coming of the Son of God as man even if humanity had not sinned (cf. Reportatio Parisiensis III Sent., d 7, 4). In this thought of Scotus he expressed his position that, in the history of salvation, the Incarnation stands out as “the greatest and most beautiful work” which exists with no strings attached because it is the original idea of God that His creation is united with himself in the Flesh and Person of the Son.

In the same audience, Benedict spoke of an aspect in the work of Scotus which remains pertinent today – Freedom. Scotus considered freedom to be a fundamental quality of the will. This aspect of our subjects thought has provided probably the greatest problem for him in time. With the passage of time this position of Scotus became known as voluntarism, a contrary position to Augustine and Thomas’ suggestion of intellectualism. This thought of voluntarism was not Scotus’, it developed through subsequent thinkers – but our subject did not propose it.

Benedict’s interpretation of Blessed John’s position is that a free act comes from the interaction of intellect and will, a relationship in which will always follows intellect. The conclusion of this thought – and which Pope Benedict pointed to as being of importance to modern society – is the dream in the modern era - for freedom. The modern search for freedom has become separated from truth which goes against Scotus who recognised that the two should be bound together, for freedom reaches its perfection in an open relationship to God, the Truth.

The sad reality is that despite his contribution to the proclamation of the Immaculate Conception, the mark of John Duns Scotus on the Church is not an entirely obvious one, certainly not when compared to figures like St Thomas Aquinas, St Augustine or St Ambrose. His role in the development of Church thought has been overshadowed by the neo-scholastic movement that featured Aquinas, ironically over one of the biggest names from the so-called High Scholastic Period. Modern interpretations have, in this case, done Scotus a disservice, and diminished his contribution. However, this doesn’t change the fact that Scotus is a doctor of the Church. His contribution cannot – and should not – be overlooked. Whilst the mark he leaves is not altogether obvious, it is there, a subtle, light touch that requires proper investigation and understanding. Ultimately, such a discreet mark is perhaps fitting to the one known as The Subtle Doctor.

[1] Benedict XVI, General Audience, 7th July 2010

Fr Robert Taylor starred on the BBC’s Priest School and was ordained a Priest in the Archdiocese of Edinburgh and St Andrew’s.

This article, split into parts and slightly abridged, originated from the blog of Stephen Mark Holmes, Priest of the Scottish Episcopal Church (SEC) and Provost of St Ninian’s Cathedral in Perth. He was formerly Rector of the Church of the Holy Cross, Davidson’s Mains, Edinburgh. The blog is largely concerned with Christian liturgy, theology and history. You can find his blog here: Amalarius.

Part 1

For the past three years I have been learning about the saints who lived in my local area. It is a short walk from my front door in north-west Edinburgh to a place in the grounds of Lauriston Castle where I can look across the Firth of Forth to St Columba’s isle of Inchcolm, the ‘Iona of the East’. The island, with its twelfth-century Augustinian Abbey, is an ancient Christian site on the route from Iona to Lindisfarne. Nearby is Cramond Kirk, also dedicated to St Columba, which is on the site of an earlier church built in the praetorium of the Roman fort. Further down the Forth are the Bass Rock and the Isle of May, each with their own native saints. The Firth of Forth, with its islands and surrounding land, is a clearly defined area and has been studied from an environmental point of view in TC Smout and Mairi Stewart’s ‘The Firth of Forth: An Environmental History’ (Edinburgh, 2012). The Firth also has its own distinct spiritual ecology with a host of saints integrated in its landscape and seascape, including Adrian, Baldred, Cuthbert, Fillan, Margaret, Serf, and Triduana, as well as other saints who have become native such as Bride, Mary and Michael.

This series of posts aims to present the hermit Balthere or Baldred who lived on the Bass Rock. Some, remembering a popular TV series, may find his name funny. A genuine medieval Scottish knight called Sir Baldred Blackadder was almost certainly named after him. The aim, however, is less to amuse than to inform and to allow people to form a relationship with him. Balthere certainly existed and now lives with God, as someone wrote shortly after his death in 756, he ‘entered the way of the holy fathers by departing to him who had formed him in the image of his Son.’ May he pray for us and for the people of East Lothian.

Baldred is a local saint of the East Lothian coast whose memory has endured for well over a thousand years. He is said to have lived on the Bass Rock and three churches close to each other all claimed to have his body in the middle ages: Tyninghame, Auldhame and Preston (Prestonkirk, East Linton). There will be more on his multiple bodies later. All four places had churches dedicated to him and there was probably also a chapel of St Baldred at Tantallon Castle, by Auldhame and overlooking the Bass. Baldred has an enduring presence in the landscape along this stretch of coast in rock and water. On the map of this area we find rock features such as Baldred’s cradle, Baldred’s boat, and St Baldred’s cave. There are also two wells named after St Baldred at Auldhame and Prestonkirk (pictured below) and local histories mention St Baldred’s Whirl, an eddy or pool in the local river Tyne at Prestonkirk.

His presence lived on in the locality after the Protestant Reformation which attacked the memory and cult of the saints. A statue of St Baldred remained at Prestonkirk until 1770 when it was smashed, in 1824 James Miller of Haddington published a poem ‘St Baldred of the Bass: a Pictish Legend’, and in 1862 the Episcopalians of North Berwick opened a new church dedicated to St Baldred, which now has a statue of St Baldred and a stained glass window dedicated to him. Local Presbyterians have also installed stained glass windows of Baldred at St Andrew, Blackadder in North Berwick (1935) and Prestonkirk (1959). Roads are named after him in North Berwick and there is also a St Baldred’s Cottage at Tyninghame. Through the centuries down to today Baldred has not been forgotten in his locality.

Baldred is thus clearly a local saint. With a few significant exceptions, his cult seems not to have spread much beyond this closely bounded part of East Lothian but it remained alive. A Mass of St Baldred for his feast on 6th March is found in a fragment of a fifteenth century missal from Haddington, the local market town, used in binding the post-Reformation burgh court books. Baldred’s cult was, though, so local that it seems not even to have spread south when his Tyninghame body was removed to Durham Cathedral in the early 11^th century by Elfred son of Westhou, sacristan of Durham and great-grandfather of St Aelred of Rievaulx. Baldred’s bones (‘ossa… Balterii’ in Latin) are included in a mid-twelfth century Durham relic list, where they are noted as being in the shrine of St Cuthbert together with Cuthbert’s incorrupt body, the head of St Oswald and the bones of other saints. Despite being in the most sacred spot in Durham, there is no trace of an active cult of Baldred at Durham after this point and his feast is not found in Durham calendars, not even the calendar from Coldingham Priory further down the coast in the Scottish Borders.

A local cult can, however, spread with local people. Baldred is mentioned in a great Scottish Chronicle, the Scotichronicon of Walter Bower (1385-1449). Bower was the Abbot of Inchcolm, another island in the Forth, and he was born in Haddington, the nearest town to Baldred’s churches. He is also mentioned in the writings of the philosopher and theologian John Major (1467-1550), who was born at Gleghornie, about a mile south of Baldred’s church at Auldhame, and went to school in Haddington. Interestingly, both of these mention that Baldred’s body multiplied after his death, a story hard to avoid if you grew up in pre-Reformation East Lothian where three churches claimed his relics. It may be East Lothian merchants who caused Baldred to appear in the calendars of some books of hours produced for the Scottish market at Rouen. He is also in the calendar of an Augustinian psalter made for Holyrood Abbey, by Edinburgh, about 1200. This was a few decades after King David I granted to the canons of Holyrood the parish of Hamer or Whitekirk adjoining St Baldred’s parishes. Canons seem to have regularly served this church and would have been familiar with the cult of Baldred. His name was also added to a fourteenth century breviary when it came to Aberdeen, which is harder to explain. These, together with people outside the area who bore his name such as Baldred Bisset (1260-1311), the Scottish lawyer, and the fifteenth-century knight, Sir Baldred Blackadder, suggest that his cult, while local, was not solely confined to a part of East Lothian. Baldred and his legend are also found in the 1510 Aberdeen Breviary but the team of scholars gathered by Bishop Elphinstone to produce the breviary sourced material on Scottish Saints from all over the country and most probably obtained the Baldred texts from East Lothian.

The evidence thus suggests a lively medieval local cult centred on the shore by the Bass Rock and associated with people from East Lothian, but not unknown among the wider Scottish community at home and abroad. Today his fame is spreading, for example he has recently been the subject of an American Catholic children’s podcast and an Eastern Orthodox icon, available on the internet in a poor quality image. The Orthodox have shown a great interest in British and Irish saints in recent years in response to the prophecy of St Arsenios of Cappadocia (1840-1924), ‘The Church in the British Isles will only begin to grow when she begins again to venerate her own Saints’. It is thus the right time to introduce Baldred to a wider audience and make known the historical evidence and his spiritual power. Part two of this series of articles will look at the evidence for the historical Balthere -who was the real St Baldred?

Part 2: Who was the real St Baldred?

Part 1 looked at the importance of St Baldred as a local saint in East Lothian but we were left with the question: who was the real St Baldred? Fortunately we know more about Baldred than about many other early Scottish saints. He was a Northumbrian hermit whose name was Balthere, ‘Baldred’ is a later medieval version of this, and he was associated with the community of St Cuthbert at Lindisfarne. His English name Balthere suggests that he was not, as some have suggested, an Irishman or a Pict. Although East Lothian is now in Scotland, from the seventh century it was part of the English Kingdom of Bernicia, the northern part of Northumbria

The Northumbrian Annals record the death on the 6^th of March 756 of ‘the man of God and priest Balthere, who lived as an anchorite at Tyninghame, and entered the way of the holy fathers by departing to him who had formed him in the image of his Son’. This, together with his Anglo-Saxon name, places him in the first century of Northumbrian rule in Lothian. He would have been a contemporary of disciples of St Cuthbert (634-87) such as Ethelwold, Bishop of Lindisfarne 721-740, and of the production of the Lindisfarne Gospels. He appears in the list of anchorites associated with Lindisfarne in the early pages of the ninth-century Durham ‘Liber Vitae’, shown below. He is named as ‘Balthere p[res]b[yte]r’ and the date of his death is confirmed by his thirteenth place in the list which is headed by Cuthbert’s successors on Farne. Balthere is fourth before the hermit Echa, who died in 767 and is mentioned after Balthere in a poem by Alcuin discussed below, and eighth before Bilfrith who made the metalwork for the Lindisfarne gospels and whose relics were placed with those of Balthere’s in Cuthbert’s coffin.

The fullest account of his life, and it is in no sense a biography, is in Alcuin’s poem on the bishops, kings, and saints of York, probably written in the 780s. The relevant section is found at the end of this post. It places him upon what must be the Bass Rock, though it is not named: ‘a place completely encircled by the ocean waves / hemmed by terrible cliffs and steep crags’. The poem describes how Balthere fought the demons to save the soul of a lustful deacon and how he fell off a high cliff but walked away on the sea until he found a boat. These early texts show that Balthere was a priest and anchorite, following the holy fathers by being formed in Christ, protecting people and fighting demons, and living in the borderland between land and sea. The poem is remarkable in its evocation of the sea and in making Balthere a saint of the ocean and coastlands. His spiritual context is the Northumbrian world of Cuthbert and Bede with its links to Iona, but as an ascetic saint fighting for his people against the powers of darkness he is typical of many throughout the Church in its first millennium.

These early texts place Balthere at Tyninghame and on what is probably the Bass Rock. This island, which dominates the view from the coast from Dunbar to North Berwick, is very significant for his cult, justifying his modern title, Baldred of the Bass. Alcuin’s poem shows this but so does a peculiarity in the Mass of St Baldred in the fifteenth-century Haddington missal fragment, shown below.

All the early texts describe St Balthere as an anchorite and priest but a later tradition, reflected here, said he was a bishop. The chants and readings here of the Mass of St Baldred the bishop (written above in Latin as ‘S[ancti] Baldredi ep[iscop]i’) are mostly taken from the common texts used for a bishop, but one chant, the tract which replaces the alleluia during Lent, is unusual and not found in the Sarum or Roman missals commonly used in medieval Scotland, ‘Ecce vir prudens’.

The Cantus database of medieval chants gives just one example of it, without giving a reference to the manuscript, for the feast of St Gregory the Great on 12 March, just after Baldred’s feast. The text is ‘Ecce vir prudens qui aedificavit domum suam supra firmam petram’ (‘behold the prudent man who built his house on a solid rock’) which is appropriate for Pope Gregory, successor of Peter the rock. This is an allusion to Matthew 7.24 where the wise man (vir sapiens) builds his house on rock (‘supra petram’) with the solid (firma) quality of the rock possibly taken from the alleluia for the Mass of the dedication of a Church ‘Bene fundata est domus Domini supra firmam petram’ (‘the house of the Lord is well established upon solid rock’). Why did those who put together the Mass of St Baldred choose this text? It can only be because they saw his hermitage in the ocean on the massively solid rock of the Bass. From the East Lothian coast the Bass looms large and by an optical illusion often appears much bigger than it is and closer to the shore. The Bass rock as a fact in the life of Balthere is interpreted spiritually as if it were itself Scripture in the light of Matthew 7.24 as it has been received in the catholic liturgical tradition.

Balthere is thus a holy man in the tradition of St Cuthbert and Lindisfarne but also a saint rooted in a particular place, a corner of East Lothian centred on the Bass Rock, and the Rock is part of his identity.

Bibliography

Cantus: A Database for Latin Ecclesiastical Chant,

https://cantus.uwaterloo.ca/

The death of Balthere in the Northumbrial Annals is found in: Symeon of Durham, Libellus de exordio atque procursus istius, hoc est, Dunhehnensis, ecclesie: Tract on the Origins and Progress of this the Church of Durham, ed. D. Rollason (Oxford, 2000), pp. 80-81 (Lib. II c. ii).

Appendix: Alcuin’s verses on St Balthere.

Now I shall touch on you in lyric measure, holy Balthere
and mark a place for you in this my poem
with your calm spirit, I pray, preserve and guide
my frail craft through the ocean depths
among the sea monsters and waves as high as cliffs
that it may safely reach harbour with its cargo.

There is a place completely encircled by the ocean waves
hemmed by terrible cliffs and steep crags, where
Balthere, the mighty warrior, during his time on earth
vanquished time and again the hosts of the air
that waged war upon him in countless shapes.
This saint fearlessly crushed his enemies forces and the arms
of wicked demons, always opposing them with the weapons of
the Cross, the helmet and shield of faith, in successful combat.

That pious man was once alone and praying fervently,
his only thoughts were of heaven,
when, of a sudden, he heard a terrible uproar and din
like that of a host charging the enemy.
From the upper clouds there fell at his feet
a soul which quivered in great fear.
Hard on its trail followed a terrifying, menacing throng
bent on torturing the unhappy man with various punishments.
But that pious father clasped it to his bosom in gentle embrace
and immediately asked it what it was, why it was in flight
and what wrong it had done. To him the soul replied:
‘I was once a deacon, but with evil intent,
I once laid hands on a woman’s breasts – no more.
When I lived on earth I was afraid to admit my sin.
And so the cruel demons have been pursuing me relentlessly
for thirty days in order to torment me. I have
not been captured, but I have never been free from anxiety.’
Then one of the demons, terrifying him, cried out:
‘Today you will not escape, no, not if you were clasped
in the arms of St Peter. You will suffer the punishment
you deserve, evil one.’ The saint grew angry at the insult to
Peter, and said: ‘I am a hundred times less worthy that that
prince of the apostles, but with trust in God’s goodness
I say to you, tyrant ruthless and cruel, that you shall not
carry this soul off to hell with you today!’
The, in kindly meditation, he prostrated himself upon the ground
and implored God with tears for the guilt of that soul,
ceaselessly pouring forth holy prayers,
until he saw with his own eyes that it was carried high over
the stars in heaven in the arms of angels.

In his clemency Christ achieved another miracle through this pious father,
which was the exact equivalent of one performed in ancient
times. For just as Peter trod the waves of the sea,
so did this holy father. Once while walking
along the steep border of a high cliff,
he chanced to fall. Buoyed up by the ocean waves
he passed over the water with dry feet,
walking on the waves as if stepping in a country field, except
the wave received him more smoothly when he hurtled down
that the unyielding earth would have taken a falling man.
When he fell, the wave flowed to prevent it injuring him,
remaining as firm as earth beneath his steps lest he drown
and so he walked on the sea, as if on a solid path of earth
until he came to a boat adrift on the waves,
into which he climbed – his journey made safely on foot.
There was not a drop of water on his clothes, no dampness
on his boots: what nature denies Christ’s power can dispense;
at Christ’s command sea-waves become a path for the just;
the earth is turned into a whirlpool to punish the wicked,
the sea bears up the humble while the earth engulfs the proud.

But now, holy Balthere, we reverently implore you
that, just as the wave carried your body from the sea,
bearing you back in perfect safety to familiar shores,
so with your prayers you may help our souls escape
the storms of this world and enter the port of salvation.

From: Alcuin, The Bishops, Kings, and Saints of York, ed. P. Godman (Oxford, 1982), pp. xxxix-xlvii, 104-9.

Part 3: Balthere and the Christian Aesthetic

Balthere is a saint of the sea and the coastlands of East Lothian and this post will concentrate on the saint’s places, beginning with the most dramatic. In Alcuin’s poem the Bass Rock, in addition to representing the rock from the gospels, is understood as a ‘desert’ in the context of the Christian ascetic tradition as received in the insular churches (the churches of Britain and Ireland). In Adamnán’s ‘Life of Columba’ we meet the monks Báeán and Cormac who sail off in search of a ‘desert in the ocean’ (‘in oceano disertum’, i.20, 25b) or a ‘hermitage in the ocean’ (‘heremum in oceano’, 1.6, 17a). This is a major theme in insular monasticism and we find many island hermitages and monasteries around the coast such as Skellig Michael in County Kerry and Eileach an Naoimh in the Inner Hebrides. Alex Woolf has also suggested frequent pairings of a monastery, sometimes itself on an island, with an island hermitage: Iona and Hinba, Lindisfarne and Inner Farne, the Isle of May and Kilrenny, Inchcolm and Aberdour, and possibly St Serf’s Isle in Loch Level and St Serf’s community at Culross or Dunning. All of these, by location or tradition, have some connection to Balthere’s community (Living and Dying at Auldhame, 167).

We should, however, beware of just thinking of Balthere’s ‘desert’ as nothing but a way of escaping people and attending to God alone. In early medieval Britain seaways were major routes for travel and Balthere on the Bass may be likened to Antony Gormley’s sculpture the Angel of the North by the A1 today. The Bass Rock is also very visible all along the coast from North Berwick to Dunbar and we may compare Balthere to another ascetic, St Daniel the Stylite, who lived his life in the fifth century on top of a pillar just outside the great city of Constantinople, where he was visited by many including Emperors. Closer to home, the great Father of Balthere’s own tradition, Cuthbert, withdrew for prayer and ascetic struggle to the Farne Islands which, although he built a wall to restrict his own gaze, were in sight not only of his monastery on Lindisfarne but also of the royal power-centre of Bamburgh. David Petts has identified a similar arrangement in East Lothian, with the hermitage on the Bass, monastic sites at Tyningham and Auldhame and the secular power-centre at Dunbar, as shown in the map below . The map, although accurate, is actually quite deceptive. If you stand today on the site of the Bernician settlement at Dunbar, the Bass Rock looms up offshore at the end of the coast much larger than one would imagine from looking at the map. The rock with its hermit would thus be a permanent presence in the eyes and minds of the secular leadership, ensuring they could not ignore the power of God and his Church.

The classic text on ascetic struggle in the desert for Balthere and his contemporaries was the Life of St Antony by St Athanasius of Alexandria. Although written in Greek, it had been translated into the Latin they spoke by Evagrius of Antioch in 373 and was well known in Britain and Ireland. Basil Krivoshein explains its teaching on the desert in a way that also applies to our anchorite, ‘Monasticism itself was considered by St Athanasius and his contemporaries not merely as the way to individual salvation and sanctification, but primarily as a fight against the dark demonic forces. Certainly, every Christian had the duty to take part in this spiritual war, but the monks constituted the vanguard or shock troops, who attacked the enemy directly in his refuge, the desert, which was regarded as the peculiar dwelling place of demons after the spread of Christianity into inhabited localities. Retreat from the world was not understood as an attempt to escape the struggle against evil, but as a more active and heroic fight against it.’ (Krivoshein, ‘The Eastern Orthodox Tradition’, pp.24-25). Alcuin’s poem suggests that the main arena for Balthere’s ascetic fight was the Bass Rock but the sources reveal that various sites on the nearby coast were also included.

Tyningham is mentioned in Balthere’s obituary as the place where he lived as an anchorite and the Bass Rock was his place of ascetic withdrawal, but what was his church at Auldhame? Today it is just a bleak headland with the ruins of a sixteenth-century house nearby in some woods, but in the middle ages it was one of the three churches with his body and excavations in 2005 have revealed its importance. These found a cemetery, which was in use from c. 650 to 1650, and a sequence of medieval buildings beginning with a timber oratory constructed at the foundation of the graveyard and ending with a stone church which was rebuilt in the early sixteenth century and later abandoned. The burials suggested a first, monastic, phase of use which ended around 900, an ending euphemistically said to be ‘an event that may or may not have been influenced by Viking activity around the coast’ (Living and Dying at Auldhame, 171). Confirmation that this first phase was monastic is found in the discovery of an Anglo-Saxon glass inkwell, one of only six found in Britain, and a pile of dog-whelk shells of the type used to produce a purple dye used in book production. These suggest the presence of a scriptorium and thus a monastery, which is also suggested by a boundary ditch or vallum across the headland, filled in during the tenth century and typical of early monasteries.

Auldhame is first mentioned in 854, in the Northumbrian Annals which list a circuit of church sites claimed by the Church of Lindisfarne. This includes Edinburgh (St Cuthbert’s under the Castle?), Pefferham (Aberlady?), Auldhame, Tyninhgame and Coldinghame (Woolf, From Pictland to Alba, 82). That at this early date it is called the old (auld) minster-estate (hame) caused Alex Woolf to suggest that it was Balthere’s original church before his community moved to a more spacious home at Tyninghame, and Auldhame is certainly a convenient point from which to sail to the Bass (Living and Dying at Auldhame, 166-67). It may even be that, as the monastery of Lindisfarne pre-dated its patron Cuthbert, so, as the radio-carbon dating allows, the Auldhame monastery predates Balthere. Woolf even suggests that Auldhame remained as a church and burial place after the move to Tyninghame as part of a ritual landscape where pilgrims and monks could look out to the Bass Rock and ‘encounter the very landscape the saint had inhabited and reflect upon famous instances in his life and spiritual struggles’ (Living and Dying at Auldhame, 168). In this context he notes that Scoughall, the only other settlement in the small parish of Auldhame, is derived from the old English scucca meaning demon which may recall Balthere’s spiritual combat. Although St Baldred’s cave at Seacliffe beach was probably a nineteenth-century invention, the name dates from its discovery by a local landowner in 1831, other natural features such as the rock called St Baldred’s boat, his ‘cradle’, a rock with a deep fissure on the shore near Tyninghame, and the two wells of St Baldred may have been part of this sacred landscape.

St Baldred’s ‘boat’ (scapha – Latin for a light boat or skiff), also called his tomb (tumba), is a rock which the legend of St Baldred in the Aberdeen Breviary claims that the saint stood upon and sailed out of the path of passing shipping. Today the name is sometimes attached to the crescent-shaped rock formation with a cross-topped beacon at the end, the South Carr beacon, just to the north of Seacliffe beach. It is, however, the detached rock just to the east of the Carr which is labelled as St Baldred’s Boat on Ordinance Survey maps such as the 1894 25 inch ‘Haddingtonshire III.10. Confirmation of the boat being a small rock is found in James Millar’s ‘Saint Baldred of the Bass and Other Poems’ (Edinburgh, 1824) where he writes, ‘a small rock, at the mouth of Aldham bay, still bears the name of Baudron’s Boat’, and RP Phillimore in The Bass Rock, its History and Romance (North Berwick, 1911) who notes that the boat ‘stands close to the Carr beacon’.

The early burials at Auldhame are mixed and do not suggest a celibate male community, so it may have been a ‘para-monastic’ community of married lay people and clergy attached to the main monastery at Tyninghame in a manner common in the insular world. Tyninghame has not been excavated in a similar way to Auldhame but ninth-century cross fragments found in the remains of its twelfth-century church suggest that this church was built on the site of the dependency of Lindisfarne at Tyninghame listed in 854, associated with St Balthere, and burnt in a Viking attack in 941 (Living and Dying at Auldhame, 137, 140, 166). If, as is probable, the main monastery was sited there, Woolf has even suggested that Auldhame survived the move of the community to Tyninghame as an ‘associative relic’ of Baldred, in a similar way to the church of St Aidan on Lindisfarne. The Auldhame community may thus have acted as ‘the curatorial staff of the hagiological landscape’, celebrating Mass and showing pilgrims round the sites associated with Balthere. The eleventh-century History of Saint Cuthbert (Historia Sancti Cuthberti) notes that all the lands between Lammermuir and the Esk were dependent on the Church of St Baldred at Tyninghame. This suggests that it acted as a mother church for a large shire-like area in a way similar to St Ebba’s Church of Coldingham in Berwickshire (Living and Dying at Auldhame, 166-70). This gives a firm grounding for the local cult of Balthere and the idea of a sacred landscape.

The idea of a ritual landscape sounds artificial to the desacralized modern mind and conjures up images of a holy theme park, but this irreverence is the product of a mind artificially limited by modern science and separated from God and the natural world of creation. Even for a Christian it takes an effort to separate oneself from the secular and disenchanted world in which we live. The Orthodox theologian and ecologist Philip Sherrard makes an attempt to describe the traditional view in his book The Rape of Man and Nature: ‘The medieval Christian world was a kind of sacred order established by God in which everything, not only man and man’s artefacts, but every living form of plant, bird or animal, the sun, moon and stars, the waters and the mountains, were seen as signs of things sacred (signa rei sacrae), expressions of a divine cosmology, symbols linking the visible and the invisible, earth and heaven. It was a society dedicated to ends which are ultimately supra-terrestrial, non-temporal, beyond the limits of this world. Indeed, a great deal of effort in this world went into preserving, fostering and nourishing the sense of realities which we now call supernatural. Throughout the length and breadth of this world visible images of these realities were set up and venerated, in icons, crosses, churches, shrines, in the collective ritual. They were the endless pursuit of monasteries, as of the saints and holy men who moved among the populace as naturally as birds among the leaves. Even when these saints and holy men retreated into solitude, everyone living in the world was aware that in the woods and hills, the wilderness and caves surrounding his home were peopled with these men ready to give counsel and benediction.’ (Sherrard, The Rape of Man and Nature, 63)

It is, however, possible to get too rosy a view of this pre-modern world. The idea that the original foundations associated with St Balthere seem to have ended with ‘Viking activity around the coast’ is supported by evidence from the Auldhame graveyard and by the mention in the chronicles of a Viking attack on Tyninghame in 941. As the archaeologists excavated the cemetery around Baldred’s lost church at Auldhame, among a thousand years of burials one stood out as unusual. SK752 was the burial of a young man, aged 26-35, with a spear, spurs and a belt of the type worn in the Irish Sea region around 900 AD. The Viking Olaf Guthfrithson, King of Dublin and Northumbria is recorded as having sacked Tyninghame shortly before his death in 941 and although this may be the body of a local man who served in a royal retinue, it has also been suggested that this may be one of the retinue of King Olaf or even the King himself. This burial occurred at the end of the life of Auldhame as a monastic settlement and two other burials from the same period had axe wounds to the head which could have come from the Viking attack. The Melrose Chronicle says that ‘Olaf burnt and destroyed the Church of St Baldred at Tyninghame, he soon died’ (the Latin is given below), by which the monastic author seems to imply that these two events were connected. Baldred did not protect his followers, perhaps because of their sins, but he did avenge them by the sudden death of the young King Olaf.

Killing people who burn his churches is not high on the list of virtues people look for in saints today but those whose families had been killed by Vikings with axes may have seen things differently. Moreover, if this Viking’s death was seen as the result of provoking the Saint, his burial next to one of Balthere’s Churches may be an attempt to enlist the Saint’s prayers to secure his salvation, just as he did for the lustful deacon in Alcuin’s poem. Balthere was a man of power who could move rocks in the sea and smite the ungodly, but he was also a saint of compassion for sinners. Moving rocks is commended by Jesus (Matthew 17.20-21) and a major theme in Scripture is that the Lord chastises people in order to lead them to repentance. Balthere’s rootedness in place is inextricably linked with his power as a Christian saint.

Bibliography

A.O. Anderson, Scottish Annals from English Chroniclers AD 500-1286 (London, 1908).

Anne Crone, Erlend Hindmarch with Alex Woolf, Living and Dying at Auldhame: The Excavation of an Anglian Monastic Settlement and Medieval parish Church (Edinburgh: Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 2016)

Chronica de Mailros, (Edinburgh: Bannatyne Club, ) p.29, ‘Anlafus incensa et vastata aecclesia sancti Baldredi in Tiningham, mox periit’

Basil Krivoshein, ‘The Eastern Orthodox Tradition’, in E.L. Mascall, ed. The Angels of Light and the Powers of Darkness: A Symposium by Members of the Fellowship of St Alban and St Sergius, London, 1954, pp.22-46.

David Petts, ‘Coastal Landscapes And Early Christianity In Anglo-Saxon Northumbria’, in Estonian Journal of Archaeology, 2009, 13, 2, 79-95.

Philip Sherrard, The Rape of Man and Nature: An Enquiry into the Origins and Consequences of Modern Science, 3^rd edition (Limni, Evia, Greece: Denise Harvey, 2015).

Alex Woolf, From Pictland to Alba 789-1070, The New Edinburgh History of Scotland 2 (Edinburgh, 2007)

Part 4: The Veneration of St Balthere

The previous two parts have explored the original Balthere and his world. Now we will look at the veneration of Balthere, now called Baldred, as it was in the early sixteenth century. We can do this because of the work of Bishop William Elphinstone of Aberdeen (1431-1514) who complied the Aberdeen Breviary, published in 1510, which includes six lessons for his feast. A translation of the six readings is given below, with thanks to Alan Macquarrie. We know that Elphinstone’s team collected material from all over Scotland and so we can presume an East Lothian origin for this material, probably from one of his churches such as Tyninghame where his feast was kept and a written life preserved. To get a fuller picture of early sixteenth-century devotion to Baldred, the lessons can be read together with other sources such as the Mass of St Baldred from the fifteenth-century Haddington fragment. Given the loss of so many religious books and artefacts from pre-Protestant Scotland we are fortunate to be able to reconstruct the Mass and Office (the daily services in a Breviary) of St Baldred.

In the second post we saw that one of the chants of the Mass, the Tract, reflected the centrality of the Bass Rock in devotion to Baldred. It is possible that the first reading of this Mass might also reveal an emphasis in this devotion. The texts of the Mass of a saint are often taken from the ‘common’, a series of texts suitable for a particular category of saint such as virgins, bishops or martyrs. By the later middle ages Baldred was believed to have been a bishop and most of his Mass texts in the fragment are, as expected, from the common of a bishop and confessor (that is a bishop who did not die as a martyr) as given in the Sarum Missal used in Scotland. This reading, however, is from the common of a bishop and doctor; in Latin the word ‘doctor’ mean ‘teacher’ and the category here refers not to healers but to one of the great teachers of Christianity such as St Augustine and St Jerome. This reading must have been chosen because it suited Balthere better than the other options in the common of a bishop and confessor. It is a composite reading made up of two sections of the Old Testament book called Ecclesiasticus or Sirach (chapters 47.9-12a and 24.1-4). The translation below is from the reading in the Missal and departs in a few ways from the standard Vulgate Latin biblical text.

‘The Lord gave praise to his holy one, and to the most High, with a word of glory. With his whole heart he praised the Lord, and loved God that made him: and he gave him power against his enemies: And he set singers before the altar, and by their voices he made sweet melody. And to the festivals he added beauty, and set in order the solemn times even to the end of his life, that they should praise the holy name of the Lord, and magnify the holiness of God in the morning. The Christ took away his sins, and exalted his horn for ever. Wisdom shall praise his soul, and he shall be honoured in the Lord, and shall be glorified in the midst of his people, and shall open his mouth in the churches of the most High, and shall be glorified in the sight of his power, and in the midst of his own people he shall be exalted, and shall be admired in the holy assembly. And in the multitude of the elect he shall have praise, and among the blessed he shall be blessed’.

This reading may have been chosen to reflect devotion to Baldred as the founder of Churches, but the emphasis on liturgy and choirs would also make sense in a monastic setting so it may well go back before the destruction of the monastery of Tyninghame in 941. Above all, it is appropriate for a local saint, ‘in the midst of his own people he shall be exalted’. It is as such that Baldred is remembered in the Aberdeen Breviary its readings, read at the night office of Mattins, reveal that his cult has seen a number of developments from the earlier devotion to the coastal hermit-priest in the Lindisfarne tradition.

In the readings from the Breviary, Baldred is now not only a bishop but the suffragan or assistant of St Kentigern who is said to have died at the age of 183 in 503. As Kentigern probably actually died at the beginning of the seventh century, an entry in the Annales Cambriae suggests 612, and we know that Balthere died in 756, this is unlikely. Likewise Balthere’s own Lindisfarne/Durham tradition recalls him as a priest and anchorite, not a bishop, and so it is highly unlikely he was ever consecrated bishop, though like a bishop he may have had oversight over a number of churches. David Hugh Farmer, in his entry on Balthere in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, posits two Baldreds, one the Northumbrian hermit Balthere and the other a bishop and follower of Kentigern. This is not necessary, something else is going on here and there is no need to divide Baldred in two. Alan Macquarrie suggests that the Bernician (Northumbrian) conquerors of Lothian wished to associate their church with native saints and there is a persistent legend that Kentigern came from what is now East Lothian. The Aberdeen Breviary says of Baldred on the Bass Rock that ‘over a long period of time he committed to memory his teacher St Kentigern and the holiness of his life.’ Macquarrie suggests that Balthere may have written a life of St Kentigern and this is not improbable. He notes that Jocelin of Furness’s Life of St Kentigern contains evidence of traditions about the saint with a strong East Lothian colouring that are no later than the first half of the eight century and thus could have been written in Balthere’s lifetime. An erroneous pious belief in the early sixteenth century may thus be grounded in fact. It is also worth noting that a saint is not just whatever an historian can find out about his or her earthly life, the legends that grow up around a saint are also part of their identity and, however fantastic, deserve to be taken seriously.

The breviary legend does, however, follow the historical report when it says Baldred ‘sought out lonely, deserted, isolated places and took himself off to the islands of the sea. Among these islands of the sea he came to one called the Bass where surely he lived a contemplative and strict life’. It links him to the parishes of Auldhame, Tyninghame and Preston, which it says he was given by St Kentigern, perhaps a memory of an attempt to bind the new Northumbrian Christianity of Balthere and his companions to the British Church that was in Lothian before the conquest. The readings also describes the miracle behind the detached rock called St Baldred’s boat. This feature was discussed in the previous post and the legend may be a link to the sacred landscape of Balthere described there. The rock is said to have been further out in the sea, closer to the Bass, and to have been a danger to shipping. Baldred had himself placed on it and sailed the rock closer to the shore ‘and to this day it is called St Baldred’s tomb (‘tumba’) or St Baldred’s boat (‘scapha’)’. The saint was thus still remembered in the landscape.

The Aberdeen Breviary says that Baldred died at Auldhame, whereas the Northumbrian Annals suggest he died at Tyninghame. As Auldhame was probably the earliest site of his monastery, it may be that the Breviary preserves an old local tradition whereas the earlier annals simply placed his death in the main site associated with the saint. The Breviary account ends with the miracle of the multiplication of his body which may have some connection with this confusion. Baldred’s three parishes of Auldhame, Tyninghame and Preston all wanted his body ‘that, by showing him due reverence, they might have him as a pious intercessor in heaven whom they had held as their teacher on earth’, a good description of the job of a saint. On the advice of a wise elder they prayed for a sign as to which church the Saint favoured. Overnight his body became three bodies so each church could have one body with a shrine. The breviary concludes that ‘there they are held and venerated in the greatest honour and reverence to the present day’. Such multiplications of a holy body are not unknown in the lives of the saints, the sixth century Welsh saint Teilo also produced three identical bodies for the churches that claimed them. One may suspect that the body was divided and also wonder, given that the Breviary says the three bodies are still in the three churches, whether the pious transfer of the bones of Balthere to Durham in the eleventh century had been forgotten.

The legend of the three bodies was around by 1400 and known by Walter Bower who included it in his Scotichronicon. Another local writer who mentions the multiplication of Baldred’s body is John Major a century later who includes it in his History of Greater Britain and in his Commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard (4.4.10). In both places he notes that the bodies are near to Gleghornie, where he grew up. In the Commentary on the Sentences, where he relates this bodily multiplication to the presence of the body of Christ in the Eucharist, he added that, ‘this is a trite story and an opponent will deny it and I confess that he may do so without incurring the charge of contamination of the faith, since many doubtful things are put down in the lives of the saints’. Respect for the saints could coexist with a healthy scepticism in an orthodox Catholic like John Major.

Our study of the cult of Baldred around the year 1500 is limited by the evidence, which is largely literary and liturgical. If only we still had the statue of him destroyed at Prestonkirk in 1770, some pilgrim tokens, records of pious donations, or accounts of a visit to the shrines like those of Erasmus to Walsingham or Aeneas Piccolomini to Whitekirk. It is, however, certain that there were three shrines to Baldred in addition to the chapel on the Bass Rock which was rebuilt and consecrated in 1542. The buildings, shrines and liturgy all contributed to a highly developed sacred landscape centred on the cult of Baldred in which also existed the popular cult of Our Lady of Whitekirk with its holy statue and well. All this was to be destroyed in the great religious revolution after 1559, but the memory of Baldred remained in the landscape and in people’s hearts. In the final post I intend to ask what were the characteristics of Baldred which were remembered through the ages and made him such a powerful local saint?

Bibliography

Alan Macquarrie, Legends of Scottish Saints: Readings, hymns and prayers for the commemoration of Scottish saints in the Aberdeen Breviary (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2012)

Peter Yeoman, Pilgrimage in Medieval Scotland (London, 1999) – I thank Peter Yeoman for drawing my attention to the mould for making pilgrim badges pictured above, now in the National Museum of Scotland

Proper lessons for St Baldred from the Aberdeen Breviary (Macquarrie pp.70-73).

Reproduced with permission, thanks to Alan Macquarrie and Four Courts Press. 1. After the most reverend father and holy bishop Kentigern, aged 183 years, had been carried by the power of God most high Himself to the heavens, joined with the angelic choir, on 13 January in the year of our salvation and grace 503, at the city of Glasgow over which he ruled, after he had divinely shown many and varied miracles, St Baldred, who had been St Kentigern’s suffragan while he lived in the world, flourished in Lothian by powers and shining miracles, truly a most devout man, renouncing all worldly pomp and its vain cares; and he followed (St) John the Divine as far as he could: he sought out lonely, deserted and isolated places, and took himself off to the islands of the sea.

2. Among these islands of the sea he came to one called the Bass, where surely he led a contemplative and strict life, (and) where over a long period of time he committed to memory his teacher St Kentigern and the holiness of his life, contemplating in constant meditation. Above the rest of his meditations, however, he ceaselessly imprinted the most bitter passion of Christ upon the secret places of his heart, in fasting, weeping and lamentation, by vigils and constant prayers; so much so that he rendered himself pleasing and acceptable to God Himself and to men everywhere throughout the world. .

3. Indeed though, he never forgot his parish churches of Auldhame, Tyninghame and Preston, which he had received to govern from his father St Kentigern, whose cure of souls had also been committed to him by the working of God, preaching the faith of Christ to his parishioners; but he taught and instructed them with humility and zeal as befitted the service of God; and if he found sick people there he healed them and restored them to health by divine power, intervening by words alone [and] the sign of the cross.

q. And among the other signs of his miracles, one comes to mind as worthy to be repeated: a huge rock, massive by nature, which stood fixed and immobile midway between the island (of the Bass) and the adjacent mainland, appearing level with the waves of the sea, presented a very great hindrance to [his] ships and to the rest of those sailing; they used sometimes to be given over to shipwreck [with] their ships. Moved by pity for them, St Baldred caused himself to be placed upon this rock; having done this, by his will the rock is immediately raised up and, like a ship driven by a fair wind, it came to the hither shore; it still remains there as a memorial of this miracle, and to this day it is called ‘St Baldred’s Tomb’ or ‘St Baldred’s Boat’,

But at length, coming to old age through the labours and distress of this most miserable life, so that he might better instruct those over whom he held rule, he arranged to be cared for at the church of Auldhame, where not long after, in a house of his parish clerk, on 6 March, having poured forth prayers, saying farewell, he commended his soul to the Lord, with all patience and eagerness and compunction of heart; while they all mourned the departure of such an outstanding shepherd from his flock (and) from the fleeting world.

6. When the parishioners of the three churches, I say, heard that their most sweet and gentle pastor had ascended to the heavens from this life, they came in three crowds to the location of Baldred’s most lovely body; on all sides they each in turn with great longing earnestly desired and requested the body for their own church, so that, by showing him due reverence, they might have him as a pious intercessor m heaven whom they had held as their teacher on earth. Since they could not agree among themselves, on the advice of an elder they left the body unburied overnight, and all gathered separately in prayer that the glorious God Himself by His grace would send them some sign to which church the body of the blessed man should be carried. But in the morning, a thing seldom heard of appeared: when the dispersed people gathered together as before in their crowds, they found three identical bodies, laid out with the same funereal dignity. They gave thanks with great gladness to almighty God and St Baldred for this miracle, and each parish, singing songs and psalms, lifted one body with its shrine and carried them off to their churches with all reverence, and honourably placed them there; and there they are held and venerated in the greatest honour and reverence to the present day.

For the last part in this series on St Baldred of the Bass I want to bring together all the historical material from the previous posts and ask who he really is. More precisely, what is his spirituality and how is he relevant to those of us today who are Christians or live in the place where he is remembered?

‘No one knows what he himself is made of, except his own spirit within him, yet there is still some part of him which remains hidden even from his own spirit; but you, Lord know everything about a human being because you have made him… Let me, then, confess what I know about myself, and confess too what I do not know, because what I know of myself I know only because you shed light on me, and what I do not know I shall remain ignorant about until my darkness becomes like bright noon before your face’. (St Augustine, Confessions 10.5.7)

The human person is a mystery, even to his or her own self. Only God, from whom no secrets are hidden, can know us fully. We never know another person completely, even those closest to us, and this obscurity is more marked for those distant from us in time. With a saint like Balthere, as has been shown in previous posts, we can at least know some things about them and about what others thought about them. This can be useful to us, as a help in our Christian life or if we are attacked by demons or Vikings. In God’s providence saints pray for us and help us. A saint is someone who lives for God and for others, so it is worth getting to know them.

Spirituality is a word that can mean anything or nothing, but I understand it as the Christian’s life in the Holy Spirit. This is something which is unique for each person but always formed by revelation in Jesus Christ and communion with the Holy Trinity in the Church. From what remains to us, can we say anything about the spirituality of Balthere, about the sort of saint he was and is? The problem is that the human mind naturally tends to conform saints to patterns, primarily the pattern of Christ but also the pattern of the lives of other saints such as St Antony and St Martin of Tours. Even the life of Jesus himself in the Gospels took some of its form from people and stories in the Old Testament, for example Christ as the new Moses. If we are trying to write a biography in the modern sense this may be a problem, but a close reading of the sources can tell us much about what is distinctive about a Saint within this tradition. We have seen this in the choice of chants for his Mass which tie him into the local landscape, specifically the Bass Rock. It should also be clear from this series of posts that a Saint does not die. We can only go so far in excavating the life of Balthere the Northumbrian hermit who lived before 756 AD, but in faith we know that Balthere did not die with his body, or bodies. His story continues to develop, just as Christians believe he continues to be active in our world as an intercessor and patron. The Aberdeen Breviary says of him that ‘he flourished in Lothian by powers and shining miracles’ and this continued after his bodily death, becoming part of his story.

Thus one way to start to understand Balthere’s spirituality is with modern devotion. Here, surprisingly, I found the best place to begin was with the Presbyterians rather than with other churches, such as the Roman Catholics, which explicitly practice devotion and prayer to the saints. The Church of Scotland parish church of St Andrew Blackadder, North Berwick has a double window entitled ‘St Baldred of the Bass; The Apostle of the Lothians.’ It was installed in memory of the Revd James Robert Burt, Minister of North Berwick 1904-1935. Burt’s predecessor as Minister was the liturgical scholar George Washington Sprott (1829-1909) who was one of the founders of the Church Service Society which recalled the Church of Scotland to its catholic heritage. Part of this work involved a renewed interest in Scottish saints and Burt was in the same tradition as Sprott. The two windows are designed to emphasise a double aspect to Baldred’s life. In the left light he is called ‘St Baldred of the Bass’. Here he is depicted as a monk with staff and gospel against the background of the sea, with boats and the Bass rock, and above him are words from a hymn, ‘Be thou my vision O Lord of my heart’. This is Baldred the contemplative and ascetic. In the other light his title is continued and he is called ‘The Apostle of the Lothians’. Here his text is, ‘The Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings’ (Isaiah 61.1; Luke 4.18). He is portrayed holding a cross, reflecting his association with the cross in Alcuin’s poem, and preaching to the people of Lothian. Below this image is a picture of the Lothian shore where his people lived, rather than the Bass rock, and in the main image these folk surround him, attentive to his words.

One could attribute this double image to a Presbyterian concern that our saintly ancestors were not just contemplatives and ascetics but were active in good works and useful in preaching the gospel. This is something that has obscured our understanding of the monastic life in early Scotland, for example seeing St Columba primarily as a ‘missionary’, but so has the firm late medieval and modern Catholic distinction between ‘the active life’ and ‘the purely contemplative life’ seen in commentaries on Martha and Mary in Luke’s gospel. In general the earlier tradition to which Balthrere belonged saw action and contemplation as two parts of the Christian life in general and the window does reflect the traditional image of St Baldred in more ways than just setting him in the East Lothian landscape.

Like the great Saint of his tradition, St Cuthbert of Lindisfarne, Balthere seems to have combined periods of solitude and contemplation offshore with active pastoral concern for the people around his churches. The fact that Tyninghame was probably the mother church of this part of East Lothian suggests that Balthere and his monks were closely embedded in the local community and, at least in part, responsible for their pastoral care. This is not explicit in Alcuin’s poem, although the identification of Balthere with St Peter may hint at it, but Balthere’s compassion for the soul of the sinful deacon and the combination of Alcuin’s presentation of Balthere as a patron and the way the poem speaks of the dangers of the sea suggests his concern for those who sail this coast. The later legend in the Aberdeen Breviary is more explicit. It is anachronistic and inaccurate, the parish system was set up long after his death and he lived long after Kentigern, but surely reflects a local memory of Balthere as a pastor: ‘he never forgot his parish churches of Auldhame, Tyninghame and Preston, which he had received to govern from his father St Kentigern, whose cure of souls had also been committed to him by the working of God, preaching the faith of Christ to his parishioners; but he taught and instructed them with humility and zeal as befitted the service of God; and if he found sick people there he healed them and restored them to health by divine power, intervening by words alone [and] the sign of the cross’. In his old age it says that he ‘arranged to be cared for at the church of Auldhame’ ‘so that he might better instruct those over whom he held rule’, and after his death his people ‘all mourned the departure of such an outstanding shepherd from his flock’. At about the same time John Major, when discussing Baldred’s three bodies in his History of Greater Britain in the context of philosophical questions about whether it is possible for a body to be in more than one place, says of Auldhame, Tyninghame and Preston that ‘in these three place Saint Baldred taught the people by word and example’. As John Major grew up in these parishes at Gleghornie, he reflects how the saint was remembered in his day. Balthere was thus remembered and prayed to as a pastor and healer with a special concern for his own part of East Lothian.

Burt’s window is right in portraying him as a pastor and an ascetic but contemporaries would have been clear as to which had priority, Balthere’s power came from his prayer and ascetic struggle. This is the first-millennium vision of sanctity described by Basil Krivoshein in the third post in this series. Alcuin describes Balthere as ‘alone and praying fervently’ and also portrays his prayer as spiritual combat. He is a ‘mighty warrior’ who defeated the demons ‘that waged war upon him in countless shapes’. The Aberdeen Breviary continues this theme, Baldred ‘lived a contemplative and strict life… contemplating in constant meditation’. With reference to the contemplative Evangelist it is said that ‘he followed John the Divine as far as he could: he sought out lonely, deserted and isolated places, and took himself off to the islands of the sea’. This could be said of many saints but Balthere seems to have been known in particular as a great contemplative. His collect (prayer) begins ‘O God, who through the contemplative life of the blessed Baldred’. The ideal of the contemplative life was everywhere in the middle ages but these words seem to be unique among the multitude of Latin collects which suggests that he was above all known as a contemplative. This is as significant as the unusual Tract in his Mass which alludes to the Bass Rock. The Aberdeen Breviary offers further suggestions as to the content of his prayers, ‘above the rest of his meditations he ceaselessly imprinted the most bitter passion of Christ upon the secret places of his heart, in fasting, weeping and lamentations, by vigils and constant prayers’. This sounds rather late-medieval in its emphasis on the passion, but Alcuin had already associated Balthere with the power of the cross.

In the Episcopal Church of St Baldred in North Berwick there are no images of the saint in the early decorative schemes of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, but two images from recent decades, a statue by a pupil from North Berwick High School and a carving in low relief by Esther Wiseman, show him as a classic early ‘Celtic’ monk and are each associated with the Bass Rock, in the former case with a separate bright stained glass panel by Ray Wiseman. Here sanctity and locality are primary and pastoral ministry is absent. The same is partly true of the 1959 window in the Church of Scotland parish church at Prestonkirk, one of Baldred’s original foundations. Here again Baldred is presented as a saint by the Bass rock, but this time as a bishop with a pastoral staff and as a founder, holding a small church representing Prestonkirk. The pastoral staff and connection to the parish pick up themes from the Aberdeen Breviary and John Major of Baldred as a local pastor. This window also draws from the early texts an association of the saint with the passion of Christ, having a crucifix above his head. Modern devotion to St Baldred expressed in art is thus rooted in the historical evidence and interprets it for the modern context. It is devotional in its use of the memory of the saint in his places but it does not explicitly call upon his help. That is our task.

At the start of this series of posts on St Baldred I suggested that the full Christian teaching about saints venerates them as powerful intercessors who help us, as well as being examples of the Christian life. If their prayers help us, knowledge of their stories can still act as an inspiration in our own Christian life. Through this they become our friends and, as no Christian believes the departed are really dead, the friendship becomes a natural context for a relationship and conversation to develop. Different saints emphasise different aspects of the life of faith and they can even make people feel welcome whose lives are not reflected in the public life of the church. In the North Berwick window we see a Minister of the Gospel not only identified with Baldred as a pastor but also with the saint as a solitary and contemplative, things difficult for a busy Minister. The window was given by his wife and we can imagine she saw better than anyone this tension in her husband’s life. Balthere speaks of the priority of contemplation, of rootedness in a place, of fidelity in spiritual combat against evil, of finding God in the wildness of nature, of fidelity to a vocation, of a ministry of healing and service to the community, of a life in communion with the crucified Christ, and of concern for those earning a living on the sea. In his links to St Peter, St John, St Kentigern and St Cuthbert he is an encouragement to those who struggle to live within the Church and its tradition. Not everyone will be drawn to Balthere but through the centuries he has helped many, otherwise he would have been forgotten.

In the Epistle for his Mass given in the last post we also see a hint of the local nature of his sanctity, ‘he shall be honoured in the Lord, and shall be glorified in the midst of his people… in the midst of his own people he shall be exalted’. He is less the ‘Apostle to the Lothians’ of Burt’s window and more the ‘Patron of East Lothian’. As such he cared for his people through miracles, or as the Aberdeen Breviary has it, ‘flourished in Lothian by powers and shining miracles’. In Alcuin’s poem the miraculous fall from the cliff and walking on the sea associated him with St Peter, as he was later linked to St John, but the moving of the rock in the sea, the multiplication of his body, his miraculous healings and the probable slaying of the Viking were all done for the benefit or vindication of his devoted people. He was thus not just a topographical feature but an enduring and powerful actor among those who lived in his sacred landscape. It is as such that he deserves to be remembered today, but more importantly to be called upon to help us. As we ask his prayers for ourselves and the people of East Lothian, let us pray together his collect from the Aberdeen Breviary (notwithstanding its promoting him to the episcopate):

O God, who through the contemplative life of the blessed Baldred, your bishop and confessor, has conferred ineffable grace on your servants; grant, we beseech you, that by his merits and intercessions we may be able to obtain in all things the saving help of your mercy.

Deus qui per vitam contemplativam beati Baldredi, presulis et confessoris tui, famulis tuis gratiam contulisti ineffabilem: praesta, quaesumus, ut eius meritis et intercessionibus opem misericordiae tuae in omnibus valeamus consequi salutarem. Per Dnm.

Holy Father Balthere, pray for us to God!

Bibliography

Alan Macquarrie, Legends of Scottish Saints: Readings, hymns and prayers for the commemoration of Scottish saints in the Aberdeen Breviary (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2012), pp.70-71.

John Major, A History of Greater Britain, tr Archibald Constable (Edinburgh: Scottish History Society, 1892), pp.86-87.

St Baldred in the writings of John Major, translated by Archibald Constable

1. History of Greater Britain 2.7

‘About this a time lived Saint Baldred. It is related of him that his body was laid entire in three churches not far distant one from the other: Aldhame, namely, Tyninghame, and Preston; of which the two first named are villages distant from Gleghornie about one thousand paces; the third, one league. In these three places Saint Baldred taught the people by word and example, and on his death all three fell to arms in strife for the possession of his body. The same body was found numerically in different parts of the house, and thus each of these villages rejoices at this day in the possession of Saint Baldred’s body. I know that there are not wanting theologians who deny that such a thing as this is possible to God, namely, that the same body can be placed circumscriptively in different places; but their proof of this I cannot allow, as I have shown at more length elsewhere in my commentary upon the fourth book of the Sentences.’

2. Commentary on the Sentences 4.10.4

‘God can place the same body circumscriptively in two, three, and so on without end, totally diverse places. The proof of this conclusion: in the Life of Saint Martin we read that the Blessed Ambrose while celebrating at Milan was present at the burial of Saint Martin at Tours. The same appears in regard to the body of the Blessed Baldred, which is said to be at Aldhame, Preston, and Tyninghame, near to Gleghornie and those parts. This is a trite story, and an opponent will deny it, and I confess that he may do so without incurring the charge of contamination of the faith, since many doubtful things are put down in some Lives of Saints. The fact is proved by the appearance of Christ to Peter as Peter was flying from Rome, for the place is known well enough, namely, Domine, Quo Vadis?’

From her earliest childhood Margaret’s soul was touched with a deep love for God. Her parents' deep faith in God showed itself in the love they had for each other and the generous way in which they welcomed six children into the world. Her parents were poor working class people and she was brought up in an area which would today be described as an inner-city slum. The family’s life was centred around the parish of Saint Patrick’s and living the catholic faith through the devotional and sacramental life of the church with a constant sensitivity to the needs of other poor people. From her earliest days not only did she devote herself to prayer but always sought to be a source of joy, peace and friendship within the home and within the school.

She was undoubtedly living at the deepest level of her being in communion with Christ. This was manifested in terms of her spirituality in her great devotion to the rosary and to the Eucharist as she would spend even her lunchtime praying before the Blessed Sacrament. She was extremely honest and hard-working and so impressed her workmates that she was appointed shop steward.

When God called her to enter religious life it meant leaving home and going to live in London which she did with great generosity of spirit.
Within two years of entering into religious life she was struck down with tuberculosis of the throat and after a few short months died.
This was an extremely painful form of suffering as there were in those days none of the painkilling drugs which we have today. As she had done at every other stage of her life she accepted everything in union with Christ and his passion and death and never complained. The joy and the trust with which she had excepted God's will at every stage of her life continued until the end.

​Feast Day: November 24th
Born: March 29, 1900, Edinburgh, Scotland
Died: November 24, 1925, Warley, England

Find out more here: www.margaretsinclair.scot

By Canon Joseph McAuley

“For the Church, pilgrimages, in all their multiple aspects, have always been a gift of grace"

(John Paul II)

My earliest memory of going on a real pilgrimage is as an early teen, visiting the Sanctuary of Our Lady of the Rosary of Fátima, Portugal. Apart from my father pouring holy water on his balding head, I don’t remember much of the occasion. But what did leave a lasting impression were the many people shuffling along on their knees while praying the rosary. Hopeful that their effort in this pilgrimage done for the love of our Lord would bare its fruit. This voluntary suffering during their pilgrimage is an image that has stayed with me all these years.

One of the saints who knows about suffering on a pilgrimage, and whose feast day we celebrate in the month of May is that of 12th Century martyr St William of Perth (died c. 1201). Not a great deal is known about his early life. The Nova legenda Anglie notes that he was born in Perth, he was a baker by trade and in adulthood, he converted to Christianity. In his great charity was accustomed to leaving out a tenth of his loaves for the poor. He went to mass daily and on one occasion he found an abandoned child outside of the church, whom he adopted, teaching it his trade. He names the child Cockermay Doucri (David the Foundling).

The pair undertook a pilgrimage, most likely to Jerusalem. Near Rochester David betrayed his adoptive father by luring him to a remote spot, now near St Williams hospital, and slit his throat, making him a martyr. St William’s body was initially found by a mad woman who roamed about the country half-naked. She garlanded his body with honeysuckle, after which she was reportedly cured of her mental illness. Hearing about this miraclous healing, his body is transferred to Rochester Cathedral by the monks where he is buried. His story made it to Rome and in 1256 Pope Alexander IV canonist him.

Most of the evidence of his shrine is now gone as it was destroyed in 1538 on the orders of Henry VIII. This does however not mean that his witness is destroyed. He is still a saint in heaven and as such much of his saintly life is worthy of imitation. He truly embraced the three theological virtues. The virtue of faith when he converted after a dissolute and profligate youth. In his charity and feeding the hungry and taking care of those on the margins, such as his adopted son. And in his hope, after all, what is a pilgrimage if it isn’t hope.

Our lives are an ongoing pilgrimage of hope. We travel through our lives, and if we keep our ears and eyes open in discernment we are guided in this journey by God. It is not until heaven is reached that this pilgrimage of hope is completed. The moment in which the full beauty of Christ is revealed. As we read in Holy Scripture: “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor 13:12).

A pilgrimage can be both spiritual or physical, but it does always involve movement of some sort and an engagement with God. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church notes a pilgrimage is; “a sign of our personal love for God” (ccc 2101). Jesus tells us to “Go”.

• Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, Go and proclaim the kingdom of God. (Luke 9:60)

• Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. (Luke 10:3)

• Go therefore and make disciples of all nations. (Matthew 28:19)

• But Go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you. (Mark 16:7)

Go is a command to action, not to stand still, but to move out of the love of God. However, “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves” (Luke 10:3) implies the journey will not be easy. Jesus, however, never promised us an easy ride, He is asking us to “Go” and He is promising to be with us always (cf Matthew 28:20), during our lives pilgrimages.

So how could we be pilgrims in our busy lives? Physical pilgrimages are becoming more popular year by year. For instance one of the busiest pilgrimages is the Camino de Santiago, or Way of St. James in Spain, recorded a new high of 446,035 pilgrims in 2023. Without going abroad more local Scottish pilgrimage sites to visit such as Iona, Saint Andrews or the Northern Pilgrims Way are always a good choice. But this is not for everyone, some of us might not be able to take this amount of time out of our busy lives providing for family, or be physically or financially able to undertake such a journey. Lucky for us this does, however, not mean we can not be pilgrims. Aside from pilgrimage of our own life, being actively engaging in bringing people to Christ can take many forms which are all ways of journeying with Christ. As such pilgrimage doesn’t have to mean walking miles for days on end, it implies “going” as He instructed us to.

Furthermore, spiritual pilgrimages can be done without leaving the comfort of our homes. This does not imply we should not put effort into what we might plan to do, but it does give options to those that might not be physically or financially able to leave their homes. Online events have also made it easier to keep “going”. Particularly for those of us that might live rurally and access is difficult. However, online programs run by organisations that do not cost anything more than our time and effort, such as bible studies, ongoing formation courses, Lectio Divina, and prayer groups, all of which will aid our personal pilgrimages of hope. As George Basil Cardinal Hume O.S.B. (1923-1999) wrote “When on a pilgrimage, we are encouraged to keep going because we have the end of the journey to look forward to.”

Pope Francis has declared that 2025 will be a Jubilee, a Holy Year, and the theme he has chosen is ‘Pilgrims of Hope’. Holy Year Scotland 2025, is organising events and pilgrimages, in preparation, throughout 2024. What a wonderful way to start actively engaging with pilgrimages. Do have a look at their website and Facebook page “Holy Year Scotland 2025”. Or perhaps this is your call to organise something within your community. “Pilgrimages evoke our earthly journey towards heaven” (CCC 2691), taking that seriously, becoming creative in our efforts can be the way forward for many of us.

Therefore whether your next pilgrimage is of the spiritual kind or the physical kind, let us take the example of St William of Perth with us. He lived out the three theological virtues in his life, even if it was difficult. He went out on pilgrimage in hope, knowing that he was not alone. He was travelling in this world, on his way to the Lord our God, with every step he took. And while his ending was tragic, his journey was fruitful and done a sign of our personal love for God. His feast day is on May 23rd. St William pray for us.

By Kirsten Schouwenaars-Harms

Sources:

Scriptural passages quoted according to the New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition

Catholic Church, (2016), Catechism of the Catholic Church, London, Catholic Truth Society

Horstmann, J., (1901), Nova legenda Anglie, II Acta SS., XVII, 268; Oxford, Clarendon Press

Hume, B., (1984), To Be a Pilgrim, PP. 121, Slough, St Paul Publication

John Paul II, (1998), The Pilgrimage in the Great Jubilee,

<https://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/migrants/documents/rc_pc_migrants_doc_19980425_pilgrimage_en.htm>

Image: St William of Perth Rochester Cathedral.

St Serf (or Servanus) is a saint venerated in Scotland with a heavy presence especially in Perth, indicated by the spread of place-names associated with him there. His cult spreads into Fife, towards Stirling, and a bit further afield in places such as East Lothian. He is included in the sixteenth-century Aberdeen Breviary, a Scottish breviary created at the direction of King James IV of Scotland, where his feast day is given as the 1st of July.

​Beginning with the Aberdeen Breviary is perhaps the easiest place to start, though you will quickly find that he is not an easy figure to understand. St Serf is noted as a bishop there, and he is claimed to have originated ‘from the race of the Scots’. The Breviary associates St Serf with Palladius, the first bishop sent by Pope Celestine to ‘the Irish believing in Christ’ in the year 432. Miracles of healing and discovering the truth are associated with St Serf in the Breviary, and even resisting questioning by the devil himself and the slaying of a dragon! The only hint we get here of the many threads to untangle is a mention at the end of the entry of ‘another St Serf, an Israelite by race, who at the time of the abbot St Adomnán shone with many miracles in the island of Portmoak; as the deeds done by him are more clearly described in his Life’. A surprise here, perhaps, is the failure to mention Culross or Lochleven as religious sites closely associated with St Serf.

​It seems that multiple versions of the Life of St Serf existed, with some conflicting information arising between them. One version is bound in a manuscript alongside Jocelin of Furness’ Life of St Kentigern and may date to the twelfth century or earlier. This Life focuses on St Serf in west Fife, associates him clearly with the foundation at Culross, and places him chronologically around the beginning of the eighth century, a far cry from the time of and location of Palladius. Even more confoundingly, Jocelin’s Life of St Kentigern makes St Serf a contemporary of St Kentigern, giving him a date around 570, and even naming him St Kentigern’s teacher. St Serf’s Life itself gives yet another temporal association, noting that he asked Adomnán for lands for his familia, his religious followers, and was given lands in Fife between the Ochils and the ‘Hill of the Britons’.

​If we backtrack a moment here and return to the question of St Serf’s familial origins, we have the Aberdeen Breviary associating him with Gaelic culture (through the reference to the Scoti), while an Irish genealogical tract on ‘The Mothers of the Saints’ notes in some places that St Serf’s father was the king of Canaan in Egypt. The Life of St Serf gives his parents as Obeth, king of Canaan, and Alpia, daughter of the king of Arabia. These are very different claims of origin for our saint. We can see more wild claims associated with St Serf by looking at the work of Andrew de Wyntoun.

​Andrew de Wyntoun, prior of St Serf of Lochleven in the early fifteenth century wrote his own history of the saint. In his account, St Serf was elected Pope of Rome after John III (who served as Pope between 561 and 574), while St Serf’s Life only says the see of Rome was vacant when he arrived. We should note that there is no Serf or Servanus, or other similarly named person at this time in the papal lists. In this version of St Serf’s story, he took himself and hundreds of companions by ship to the Firth of Forth, meeting Adomnán at Inchkeith. Wyntoun’s version has the Pictish king Brude giving him the isle of Lochleven rather than Adomnán granting him lands. Both Wyntoun and the Life of St Serf give far more detail about his temptation by the devil than the Aberdeen Breviary does, outlining a series of questions that were answered by the saint. Even the end of St Serf’s life is not free from confusion and disparate stories. St Serf’s Life has his death taking place at Dunning and carried afterwards to Culross, while Wyntoun locates his death at Culross. The Aberdeen Breviary gives no account of his death at all.

​So what are we to make of this saint, whose story is so conflicting? We can be absolutely sure of nearly none of the details of his life. Not his origins, when he lived and who he knew or even where his primary religious foundation was. We would expect there to be some evidence of an early foundation at Culross for it to be mentioned in the Life of St Serf, even if it is from the twelfth century, and indeed there are carved stones there which could be of early Christian date. We do know that a Cistercian monastery was founded at Culross by Malcolm earl of Fife in 1217, but the lack of mention of other Cistercian-associated sites in the Life of St Serf indicates this document was not a backwards looking reference trying to create a history for the new foundation. Alan Macquarrie, a noted historian, indicates the presence of ‘an echo in the exploits of Irish saga-heroes’ in the Life of St Serf, and there is a possibility these eastern origins and associations could be metaphoric references to the Easter Controversy, which saw differences in the calculation of Easter coming to a head in the north of Britain in the seventh century. From here we may look at the text itself to give us some idea of the possible truths that sit at the core of St Serf’s story.

​There appears to be a heavily Gaelic-influenced core of the Life of St Serf, noted in the forms of place-names used, such as ‘Fif’, ‘Culenros’, ‘Atheren’, Cella Dunenensis’ and others being close to their Gaelic forms. Even people’s names, that of Brude f. Dergard, king of the Picts, and Adomnán’s name given as Edaunanus. The foreign origins are likely fanciful invention or meaningful metaphor rather than fact, and we should more likely believe that St Serf was either of Gaelic origin or perhaps Brythonic, which allows for him to have been Pictish. Associations with Palladius can likewise be set aside more easily than those with St Kentigern or Adomnán. He is not mentioned in Bede, but that is not necessarily a glaring mark against him, and we might comfortably associate him somewhere in the eighth or ninth century.

By Dr Carolyn McNamara

Image: "File:West Kirk Culross - geograph.org.uk - 216333.jpg" by Paul McIlroy is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

St Moluag is primarily associated with a monastery on the island of Lismore, which lies just north of Oban and just east of the isle of Mull in the west of Scotland. Lismore occupies a strategic location at the southern end of Loch Linnhe, which provides a point of control for access up the Great Glen. We know that this was a route used to travel between Iona and the Pictish province of Fortriu as it is mentioned in Adomnán’s Life of St Columba. While there is little textual evidence of Moluag that survives, what we have indicates the importance of Moluag himself and influence of his monastery.

Moluag’s birth name was Lugaid and he was born in Ireland. The monastery at Lios Mòr was founded sometime before his death, which is recorded in AU 592. This record of his death makes him a contemporary with Sts Columba, Comgall, and Donnán of Eigg. This information makes it clear that there was more ecclesiastical presence in the west of Scotland than is typically portrayed.

The textual evidence

for Moluag is primarily situated in a few different sources: Martyrologies, including the Martyrology of Óengus, annals, and the Aberdeen Breviary. The Martyrology of Óengus includes a poem that mentions Moluag, whose feastday it marks on the 25th of June:

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Sinchell’s feast, Telle’s feast:
they were Ireland’s heights,
with Moluag pure, brilliant,
the sun of Lismore in Alba.

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While a full Life for Moluag has not survived, there are strong suggestions that one did exist. This can be seen in some of the stories told of Moluag in the Aberdeen Breviary, which coincide very closely with stories in the Libellus de nativitate Sancti Cuthberti, a false Life of St Cuthbert (this is said because additional Lives of Cuthbert survive, which are in line with the knowledge of Cuthbert’s life). This includes miracles such as the forging of a bell, Moluag’s miraculous transportation across the sea upon a stone, and specific travel to Argyll (of which Lismore is part).

​Though Moluag’s birth isn’t recorded in the annals, his death is recorded there in 592, and a few subsequent abbots of Lismore are also included. The Aberdeen Breviary, a sixteenth-century document, created a highly detailed picture of Moluag, likely based on the presence of his veneration across Scotland by that time. The Aberdeen Breviary claims that Moluag travelled as far as Thule (which is possibly thought to be Iceland) as well as attributing travel around Ross and conversion to Christianity in the area to him.

​These created travels are likely the product of the widespread cult of Moluag (cult here meaning the geographic range within which he was venerated) across both the Isles and the Scottish mainland. Place-names associated with Moluag spread from as far as Kilmaluag on Harris in the west to Kildrummy in Aberdeenshire in the east. It’s unlikely that Moluag himself would have personally traversed all these locations. It’s more likely that his cult spread after his death by those who venerated him. The northeastern locations associated with Moluag are more likely the result of the eastern spread of Cenél Loairn (part of Dál Riata) from the eighth century.

​A close relationship between Lismore and Rosemarkie is also indicated in the Aberdeen Breviary, and it seems likely that these foundations could have existed from an early period, as they are on either end of the Great Glen. There’s an interesting story that was recorded by the Scottish Folklorist Alexander Carmichael about Moluag and Columba. According to this story, both Moluag and Columba had their eyes set on founding a monastery on Lismore. Lismore would have been a desirable location due to its size (it’s on the larger side compared to other Hebridean islands) and the amount of arable land that it had. In order to claim the island, they began to race against each other to reach it first and thus win the island for their own. As they raced across the loch they were nearly neck and neck, though Columba started to inch out ahead of Moluag. In order to beat Columba and thus secure dominion over the island, Moluag cut off his pinky finger and flung it from his boat onto the beach, thereby placing himself on the island first. It was after this failure to secure the island (according to legend) that Columba then founded his monastery on Iona, which is much smaller and with significantly less arable land. It’s important to note, however, that this reflects the well-known story of the ‘Red Hand of Ulster’, dated to the thirteenth century, wherein two chieftains were engaged in a very similar race, though the winner cut off his entire hand to fling it upon the shore and win the island.

​Turning to Moluag’s foundation of Lismore itself, there is evidence that it was of high status and importance. This is evidenced through the survival of fragments of the Lismore Cross Slab, which may have stood as much as 2.89m in visible height when it was originally completed. The surviving fragments also show high levels of detail, which would have necessitated the employment of highly skilled craftsmen. Lismore’s continued importance is evidenced by the fact that it was chosen as the seat of the Bishopric of Argyll upon its creation in 1189. The original cathedral on Lismore was built in the twelfth century, with additions made in the fourteenth century. By the seventeenth century the cathedral was in ruins, and it was renovated and adapted to continue serving as a parish church in 1749. There is still evidence inside the current building that indicates its previous life as a cathedral, seen especially in the presence of the piscina.

​Of additional interest is the survival of the Bachall Mór, or ‘Great Staff’ of Moluag, which was on temporary display at the National Museum of Scotland 4-5 years ago. This staff is claimed to have been Moluag’s own crozier, though it has been stylistically dated to the late eleventh or early twelfth centuries. The staff is in the possession of its hereditary keeper, the chief of the Livingstone family, Niall Livingstone, Baron of Bachuil. The staff itself is badly damaged, and of its original length, only 0.86m now remains. There is evidence that it was originally encased in metal, (perhaps of copper, silver, or gold), which is now almost completely missing.

By Carly Macnamara

Image 1: Lighthouse at Lismore Island.

Image 2: "Lismore Parish Church - the windows (1)" by The Carlisle Kid is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Image 3: Lismore Cross slab: Canmore website

You may be surprised to see the Feastday of Maelruba of Applecross in April. In the sixteenth-century Aberdeen Breviary, a Scottish breviary created at the direction of King James IV of Scotland, the date associated with Maelruba is the 27th of August. This date, however, is an error which made it into the Breviary. The earlier (and correct) Feastday of Maelruba is the 21st of April. This date corresponds to the report of Maelruba’s death on the 11th of the Kalends of May in the Annals of Ulster for the year 722. Annals are written materials, usually created in monasteries, which are concerned with the recording of events in chronological order by year. These records can vary dramatically from extremely short entries (such as ‘Soandso died’) to longer accounts of a battle, which includes the names of the kindreds involved, the numbers killed, and the names of the leaders on each side. This error likely came about due to an incorrect correlation between Maelruba and St Rufus of Capua, who was a martyr. This error becomes clear in the Aberdeen Breviary, which instructs the congregation to make the commemoration of St Rufus, martyr as part of the service for Maelruba.

​You may be curious how Maelruba became conflated with Rufus. The answer lies in the tradition of name changes that saints frequently underwent in the early medieval period. For Maelruba this seems to be especially true, with his name transforming variously to: Malrew, Mareve, Mӑree, Ruvius, Rufus, and more. It is possible to see, now, how Maelruba’s transformed name Ruvius or Rufus could become confused with an actual St Rufus. Some place-names in Scotland include Maelruba’s name as Mӑree and even Mӑry, causing confusion with Jesus’ mother, Mary.

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If the Annals of Tigernach are correct in advising Maelruba was 80 years old at the time of his death, reported for the year 722, that would put his birth in 642. The Martyrologies of Gorman and Óengus record that he was a member of Cenél Eogain (of the northern Uí Néill), and supposedly related to St Comgall of Bangor (located in County Down) through his mother, who may have been named Setna. Maelruba, then, was born in Ireland, though his foundation of Applecross is on the western shore of the Scottish mainland, near the Isle of Skye.

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The Martyrology of Óengus includes a poem about Maelruba’s departure to Scotland:

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In Scotland with purity,
after leaving every happiness,
our brother Maelruba went
from us with his mother.

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The annals record the founding of Applecross (from Pictish Apor Crosán, the mouth of the river Crosán). Applecross itself became a high-status foundation, evidenced by Maelruba’s inclusion in annals, martyrologies, and the Aberdeen Breviary. We can further see this on the ground, in the survival of the Applecross Cross Slab. Although today the cross slab consists of 19 fragments, it likely would have originally stood at least 2.2m in height with a possible span of the arms of the cross at 1m. The surviving fragments show intricate carving work that includes interlace, spirals with bird or beast-headed terminals, key-pattern, and even a humanoid figure. The level of detail on these fragments indicate that it would have been someone with a high level of skill who created it, which further means that it would not have been an easy aquisition. It would have required that Applecross have sufficient standing and funding to attract a master carver to undertake the creation of its cross slab. These fragments also reflect a blending of Irish and Pictish carving styles. Similarities of carving style have also been identified at Rosemarkie, and Nigg, which may help us to understand the development of later stories that associate Maelruba with those areas.

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Maelruba was widely venerated in Scotland. Evidence of his cult is seen in place-names associated with Maelruba in the Hebrides and along the western coast of Scotland, but also in the East. Right now I am not making a distinction between sites which Maelruba likely visited himself and those where he was venerated or commemorated after his death (in some cases centuries after). I just want to show how widely spread in geography and time his veneration occurred. In 1656 the presbytery of Dingwall claimed that some Protestants in the area still made traditional sacrifices to ‘St Mourie’ on his feastday in Applecross and surrounding areas. The same source described how pilgrimages were made to Isle Maree, on Loch Maree, where veneration of the saint occurred. Evidence of more easterly veneration is seen in Contin, where the Féil Ma-Ruibhe (Feast of Maelruba) was recorded in the Aberdeen Breviary. A ‘Summer eve’s Fair’ (one of the transformed versions of Maelruba’s name was ‘Samarive’) was held on the First Tuesday in September in Keith, recorded in 1724, where a church dedicated to Maelruba survives.

​Maelruba is created a martyr through two different stories of his death, one in the Aberdeen Breviary, and one reported by William Reeves in the nineteenth century. The Aberdeen Breviary, however, describes a cruel death at the hands of Norwegians on the Black Isle, who struck him with their swords and left him for dead. According to the story, he lived long enough to direct those who found him that his body should be returned to Applecross. The second story has Maelruba dying at Ferintosh, though again indicating his body should be returned to Applecross. Norwegians are again involved, but this time to send a tombstone for him from the daughter of the King of Norway. It should be noted that the record of Maelruba’s death mentioned above, in the Annals of Tigernach, uses the Latin word pausat, ‘paused’ or ‘ceased’, which is typically used to indicate a peaceful death, indicating that both these stories must have been created at a later date as a means of explaining Maelruba’s connection with more easterly areas at the time.

​Maelruba may not be as well remembered today as St Columba, but we can see through the surviving evidence that his foundation of Applecross was of high-status and his cult spread across large parts of Scotland. His name survives in place-names to this day, and when we remember him we are tapping into and participating in an ancient tradition.

By Carly Macnamara

Image: "Bealach na Ba, Applecross" by Nick Bramhall is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

St Kentigern was born on the 13th January 518AD, the son of St Enoch, who at the age of 16 gave birth to one who would be affectionately named Mungo by the Priest who found the young mother and infant by Culross on the River Forth.

‘Mungo’ was a term of endearment. Just like today if you were to lift up a little baby you might call them ‘darling’ or ‘dear one’ – that was the response of the priest. Mungo, which was to become Kentigern’s affectionate nickname translates as just this, ‘dear one’ or ‘my beloved’. The priest of this Christian community, who embraced Mungo, is considered to be St. Serph, although it can’t be said for sure given that much of the information we have from this time is fragmented. The priest and the Christian Community lovingly welcomed Enoch and Mungo as family, despite the risks that came with this. Therefore, it was Culross that Mungo would have called home – the place where Enoch raised him, where he was formed and grew into adulthood, where he learned about God and the world.

Enoch must have been a great teacher; she certainly had received a good education herself. One thing that rubbed off on Mungo was his mother’s love for nature and it’s inhabitants. You can imagine little Mungo out on walks or adventures with Enoch, running about fields, climbing rocks and encountering birds and animals and all. Mungo had a special love for these wild creatures – one that we see in his first ‘miracle’ – the ‘bird that never flew’…

If you’ve ever seen the City of Glasgow’s Coat of Arms then you’ll discover that it features a bird, in fact, it features a bird, a bell, a tree and a fish – all representing miracles attributed to St. Mungo.

The story behind the bird came from Mungo’s childhood. When Mungo was little, some of the local kids began throwing stones at robins that were pecking away at the ground looking for their tea. One of the poor robins took a hit and keeled over. The boys deserted, hoping to not be caught but instead of hiding himself, Mungo ran towards the little bird that was believed to be dead. He picked it up and, holding it in his hands, and prayed for God to heal the bird and restore it to life and the bird came round. The villagers believed this event to be a miracle, whether or not the bird was stunned or actually dead. In this, we see Mungo’s love for this little creature and also his trust in God to provide, to heal.

Mungo was asked to visit an old priest who was poorly in a neighbouring town. Mungo thought he’d be back in Culross by nightfall. However, the priest was really ill and so Mungo thought he should stay on and then later that night the priest died. As a result of this Mungo had a ‘last request’ to fulfil - the priest had asked him to ensure he was buried in a little church a day’s walk away that St. Ninian had founded around 100 years before. So, Mungo did as the priest wished and the morning after his death, he set off to that church. Upon arriving at nightfall, he found a small community of Christians and the next morning he said Mass for the deceased priest and buried him there in the church. After this he was ready to set off home, remember, it was a daytrip that he had set out on two mornings prior. However, his heart broke for that small community of people. They had not seen a priest in years and were living in fear of a large Druid community nearby that was attracting their young and threatening their people. Mungo, feeling their sense of loss, like sheep without a shepherd, offered to remain with the people who gladly welcomed him. Within a short time, the sad and fearful community began to come to life, there was a buzz about the place. Soon after Mungo settled, his mother joined him to assist in the village and in his mission. Quickly she began serving the parish community and was greatly loved.

What a day trip!

This village that Mungo arrived in was called Cathures back in the day. It’s not known as that now. Some suggest that Enoch is responsible for the naming as she loved her little church community and so was said to have named the place “The Beloved Church”, or in her native tongue, “Eglais Cu”, known today in Gaelic as Glashu, or the city that is known commonly in this land as Glasgow.

St Mungo in Exile

Mungo had been sent into exile and he was heading for Wales. However, upon hearing that the people in Cumbria had succumbed to idolatry and paganism, he took a three-year detour. Mungo recognised that these people were lost and met them where they were at, quite literally, gathering round village wells each day. People didn’t just go to draw water but to meet neighbours, catch up on the latest news and trade. It was at these wells that Mungo brought the Good News of Christ and the effects of this were evident. Not only were family and friends reconciling and people amending their ways but these wells that satiated the people’s bodily thirst became fountains of living water where Mungo baptised the multitude of converts. Mungo made many friends, but like all of the saints, he wasn’t winning friends to boost his ego or become powerful but to lead them to Christ. By the grace of God and Mungo’s yesses, namely to have his plans interrupted, Christianity grew rapidly in Cumbria. However, it was not long until Mungo had to flee, again.

St Mungo went off to Wales and like everywhere else he’d travelled to, Mungo made more friends in Wales. From what we’ve heard, you might think that all of Mungo’s friends were happy and saintly people. However, it would be wrong to assume that his friends were kind towards him initially, in fact some of those who Mungo would call friend were exceptionally hostile to him at times but he pursued a friendship with them, trusting in Christ to open their hearts. One of these men was a belligerent king who had once been a monk but was lured away by the riches of his inheritance. This king married then murdered his wife, then after this on another occasion he murdered his nephew then took his nephew’s wife as his own. He was clearly not the happiest or most saintly man. Yet, even though this king had some rap sheet, Mungo still desired to win his friendship so that the king could come to know Christ’s mercy and he did!

The ripple effects of Mungo’s perseverance in friendship, even when tough, were mighty with many encountering the love of God and choosing to follow Him.

Back to Glasgow

When things had calmed down north of the border, and Mungo was invited to return to Glasgow, he turned to God in prayer and consulted with his friends who he founded the monastery with. Then, upon discerning it was what God wanted and recognising the massive work that needed done to convert the people who had lapsed, Mungo and over 600 monks made the trip from Wales to Glasgow. It was not a direct trip, door to door, but one that included a stop in Dumfries and Galloway, where Mungo and his companions spent many years preaching and befriending the people there.

When Mungo returned to Glasgow, he was at bus-pass age, that time in life where most people retire, kick back, take life a little easier and enjoy being at home. However, Mungo was still focused on winning hearts for Christ – a compelling desire that led him on a two-year trip to Rome to consult with the Pope. He returned with ‘the bell that never rang’ and the promise of support from the Church to evangelise the English – neighbours whose souls Mungo hoped to win for Christ

In 603AD the great Saint died and went to his eternal home. His legacy is still with us and we pray for his continued intercession for Glasgow, Strathclyde and indeed Scotland.

Mairi-Claire McCeady

As a Keith man born and bred, I have known John Ogilvie for all of my 66 years, becoming more involved with his remarkable life in the second half of that time.

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He was Blessed John Ogilvie in my youth, then in 1976 the Jesuit martyr, a native of my area of Banffshire, became the first Post Reformation saint in Scotland when canonised at St Peter’s in Rome. By then I was a journalist. I reported from afar on the occasion and have written about John Ogilvie many times since.

It is a story that deserves to be told, part of the great heritage of the Catholic Church in Scotland and a source of inspiration for us all, drawing on John Ogilvie to feel stronger and more confident in what we believe in.

I have been asked here to focus more on his early years; me a man from Keith writing about another who through an unwavering strength of faith, courage, perseverance and humility is revered as a major figure of history, in his home town, in Scotland and in the Catholic Church.

John was dead by the age of 36. His relatively short life started in 1579, as the first son of Walter Ogilvie, Baron of Drum-na-Keith, whose brother had the neighbouring Milton Castle and estate. Their father James had been Treasurer to Mary Queen of Scots and the family tree is said to have stretched back to William, King of Scotland, and Queen Margaret, who would also become a Saint.

Twenty years before the birth, John Knox had led the way to switching Scotland’s state religion from Catholicism to Calvinism, later known as Presbyterianism, and there were fierce purges to stamp out the Catholic faith. Although some of the nobility may have had Catholic leanings, few were willing to show them for fear of losing their lands, wealth and status.

So John was a Calvinist and at age 13 his father decided that he should travel in Europe to further his education and experiences of life in order to be better equipped for playing a prominent role in Scottish affairs.

A permit was required to visit still-Catholic Europe. It was granted and he set off with a relative, visiting France, Germany and Italy, coming across scholars, both Calvinist and Catholic, discussing religion. It led to a brave decision at age 17 to convert to Catholicism and we can only imagine the torment this must have caused within his family. It is not known if he ever saw them again.

The Jesuit order was close to his heart and John criss-crossed Europe to achieve his aim of becoming a priest. He enrolled in the Scots College in Louvain, Belgium, he took his vows at Graz In the Austrian Tyrol and in 1610 was ordained in Paris, aged 31.

Appointed a confessor to students in Rouen, France, Father John met priests exiled from Scotland for saying Mass or ministering to people. Realising the heavy burden on Scots Catholics, he longed to return to his homeland.

Twice he was refused permission by his superiors, but his perseverance paid off. There were no other Jesuit priests in Scotland, perhaps no priests at all, so this was an extraordinary vote of confidence in an inexperienced priest.

To evade spies, he landed in Scotland in 1613 as John Watson, a soldier returning from European wars and now trying his hand at horse dealing.

The story from then on is perhaps better known, of how he carried out covert missionary work, mainly around Edinburgh, Glasgow and Renfrewshire. He is said to have penetrated Edinburgh Castle to comfort prisoners. “The harvest here is very great, the labourers here are very few,” he wrote.

But the net was closing in on Father John. He travelled to reconcile five men to the Church, but one was a spy who had contacted the Protestant Archbishop of Glasgow. A trap was set and the priest was arrested on October 14, 1614.

Imprisoned for five months, Father John was subjected to starvation, beatings, torture and sleep deprivation … but he met it all with equanimity, humour and courage. He even engaged in religious arguments with ministers.

Moved from Glasgow to Edinburgh for further investigation by the Privy Council of the King, he endured the torture of the Vigil or Waking which had been designed to ensure confessions of witchcraft. Over eight days and nine nights, he was kept awake by being punched, thrown to the stone floor, and being pierced by sharp instruments or witch’s bridles. Still John refused to give the names of Catholics he had been ministering to, and resisted threats and promises to save his skin.

Banishment for saying Mass, like others, was no longer an option. King James VI of Scotland and I of England had become involved and demanded that Ogilvie repudiate the Pope and accept the ‘divine right’ of the King in all matters, spiritual and temporal. The prisoner refused and was put on trial for treason at the Tolbooth in Glasgow’s Square on March 10, 1615. Father John declared “he would die in defence of the King’s civil authority, but he could not obey him on spiritual matters”. Two hours later the verdict of guilty was announced and he was ordered to be hanged that afternoon. He prayed briefly on the scaffold and threw his rosary into the crowd. With murmurs of injustice in the watching crowd, his body was spirited away to be buried secretly in a criminal’s plot on the outskirts of Glasgow. In the years that followed, the John Ogilvie story was told throughout Europe and he was revered as a martyr.

As a result of the Reformation, the Catholic Church almost died, but was kept alive in corners of Scotland, including in John Ogilvie’s homeland of Banffshire.

In 1929 the martyr was beatified by Pope Pius XI. In the early 1960s two Jesuit priests in Glasgow paved the way for canonisation, with the devotion to John Ogilvie climaxing with a proclaimed miracle in 1967. Docker John Fagin, from Easterhouse in the city, recovered from terminal stomach cancer and church investigations stated there was “no natural explanation” for it.

Mr Fagin attended the canonisation in May, 1976, as did my father James, as part of a group from St Thomas’ Church in Keith. He was invited to take part in the offertory procession, for which he received a special a medal from Pope Paul VI, canonised himself in 2018. The medal was my late dad’s proudest possession, and now it is in my keeping.

In St Thomas’ we have a special side chapel dedicated to Saint John, an exhibition on his life, in the main church a stained glass window from his days as Blessed, and the parish has the title of a diocesan shrine to the Saint.

There is a street named after St John Ogilvie in Keith as one of our greatest historical figures. We are a small town but one with a big story to tell the present and future generations about this remarkable man.

By Mike Collins

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Image: "Shrine of St John Ogilvie" by Lawrence OP is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Comgall is an early Irish saint, contemporary with the well-known St Columba in Scotland. According to the Life of St Columba, the saints were known to visit each other and travel together at times, including on their return trip from participation in the in the convention of Druim Cett. Comgall was reportedly born c. 510 and was part of the kin group known as Dál nAraidi in Ulster. In Irish genealogical material his father’s name is given as Setna, and his mother was Brig(a). He may have also had a sister named Subthan. He founded Bangor monastery in the north of Ireland probably no later than AD 552. His death is recorded in the Annals of Ulster and the Annals of Tigernach, with a great level of detail being included in the second source. Here we are told that Comgall ‘rested’ (or died peacefully) in the 91st year of his age, but in the 50th year, 3rd month, and 10th day of his leadership, on the 6th of the Ides of May (or 10th of May). The 10th of May is the Feast of St Comgall, according to the Irish martyrologies, while within the Aberdeen Breviary his feastday is given as the 12th of May.

​Fine detail on Comgall’s life is uncertain, as the Life associated with him is from the twelfth-century, though we do know that a Rule which he devised and by which his monks lived existed, and was mentioned by name in the Antiphonary of Bangor. It is further mentioned in an Irish Metrical Rule, likely written by AD 800. The twelfth-century Life prioritises expressing the great size and spread of the network of monasteries which looked to Comgall (and therefore Bangor) as it’s head, even claiming that Comgall had to construct additional monasteries all across Ireland in order to hold the 3000 monks. We should take care not to take this claim at face value, and understand that it may be a symbolic, or even merely inflated number. There is, however, some evidence of churches connected to Comgall some distance from Ulster, including in Leinster, at the site of Kinneigh in County Carlow and in Derry at Camus.

​Comgall is noted as the teacher of a number of Irish saints within their own hagiographic traditions, including Fintan of Dún Bleisce (Doon), Molua of Clonfertmulloe (Kyle), Fintan of Tech Munnu (Taghmon), and Daigh of Inis Céin (Inishkeen), among others. Perhaps the best known pupil associated with St Comgall is St Columbanus, who is known for his travel to the continent and founding of monasteries in France and Italy. It is possible that these claims of connection were created or made up at the time of the writing of the saints’ Lives, but if it is true, it still serves to show the importance of Comgall’s status and reputation at the time of their authorship. He seems to have had the respect of Adomnán of Iona, who includes Comgall three times in his Life of St Columba, second only to the number of times Cainnech is mentioned, and in episodes that indicates their relationship is one of equals and colleagues.

​Bangor monastery itself was an impressive foundation that was highly involved in discussions on the calculation of Easter (and thus the Easter controversy) and supported learned monks who were themselves well-known authors and scholars. One abbot, Sillán moccu Mind, known as Mo-Sinu, notably had a particular expertise in arithmetical computation and was mentioned in a continental manuscript as the first of the Irish who learned the computus by heart. The Antiphonary of Bangor contains material from as early as the second half of the seventh century. An antiphonary is a kind of liturgical book which contains chants for use during Mass and the canonical Hours. This antiphonary contains three hymns which especially relate to Bangor: Hymnus Sancti Comgilli Abbatis Nostri ‘The Hymn of Holy Comgall our Abbot’, In Memoriam Abbatum Nostrorum ‘In Memory of our Abbots’, and Versiculi Familae Benchuir ‘Verses of the Family of Bangor’. The second hymn contains a list of the first fifteen abbots of Bangor. Further, through the Antiphonary Bangor has been associated with the ‘Hisperic’ style of literature, which perhaps even originated at Bangor. This style of writing is notable for its very distinctive use of vocabulary and interest in synonyms, sometimes leading it to be called ‘bizarre’.

​A fine bronze bell weighing over 9kg and standing 35cm tall was found in the abbey ruins in the 1790s. It has a ring of key pattern around its mouth and likely dates to the early ninth century. A lead stylus waws discovered during excavation in 2011 amongst material that was radiocarbed dated within 45 years of AD 840. This stylus is further evidence of writing at Bangor.

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Dr Carolyn McNamara

St Adomnan (Eunan) 740AD

23rd September

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A member of the family of St Columba and ninth Abbot of Iona Abbey, this Saint is most notable for his Life of St Columba which we gain most of our knowledge of St Columba from. It is also an excellent source of information on the Scottish church at the time - especially Gaelic monastic life and of the different Pictish groups. Although it is thought that an earlier Vita of St Columba by St Cummine (Cumin) the White was used or inserted into Adomnan’s history.

​St Adomnan is famous is Ireland for the ‘Law of the Innocents’ - agreed in Tara stating that no women, children or clergy could be used in war or taken captive, surely an ancient precursor to the Geneva Convention! He is also well known for his promotion of the Dionysiac Easter dating system seeking firstly to persuade his monks in Iona to drop the older Latercus system - a system that developed in Southern France; and then in Ireland as well. It was on this issue that the famous Synod of Whitby in 664AD had been called to bring clarity to a confusing situation, not least in Northumbria itself where 3 different forms of dating Easter was used! At this time Rome was promoting the Dionysiac as the preferred system for all the Churches.

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It might be worth just mentioning here a little of what the controversy was all about. Until the Nicean Council in the 4th Century Christians would date Easter using the Jewish Passover which was was the 14th day of Nisan, the first Lunar month of the Jewish New year. Eventually Christians began to challenge this thinking stating the Jewish authorities had begun to err and they needed their own system with the Resurrection celebrated on the first Sunday after Passover. Various systems developed across the Christian world, the Dionysiac and Latercus being only 2 of many others. Eventually the Dionysiac system would win out, with Ireland, Briton and Iona eventually accepting it. For Adomnan, who had unsuccessfully tried to convince the Ionan monks to change there mind and resulting in him having to leave Iona - he would never see it dying ten years before the full acceptance.

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St Adomnan was widely venerated throughout Scotland, no doubt due to the influence Iona had over Christianity in Scotland. Some sources say he spent time near Loch Tay in Dull near Aberfeldy where there was a church dedicated to him and evidence of early monastic community. It is said he died here but we know he was buried originally in Iona before his remains moving back to Ireland. He is also dedicated in the following places and I am quoting here from Michael Barratts OSB book A Calendar of Scottish Saints:

Aboyne and Forvie (parish of Slains) in Aberdeenshire ; Abriachan in Inverness-shire ; Forglen or Teunan Kirk in Banffshire ; Tannadice in Forfarshire ; Kileunan (parish of Kilkerran) in Kintyre ; Kinneff in Kincardineshire ; the Island of Sanda ; Dull, Grandtully and Blair Athole in Perthshire the latter place was once known as Kilmaveonaig, from the quaint little chapel and burying ground of the saint. There were chapels in his honour at Campsie in Stir lingshire and Dalmeny in Linlithgow. At Aboyne are " Skeulan Tree" and Skeulan Well," at Tannadice " St. Arnold s Seat," at Campsie " St. Adamnan s Acre," at Kinneff " St. Arnty s Cell." At Dull a fair was formerly held on his feast-day (old style) ; it was called Feille Eonan. Another fair at Blair Athole was known as Feill Espic Eoin (" Bishop Eunan s Fair " though St. Adamnan was an abbot only) ; it has been abolished in modern times. His well is still to be seen in the Manse garden there, and down the glen a fissure in the rock is called " St. Ennan s Foot mark." There was a "St. Adamnan s Croft" in Glenurquhart (Inverness-shire), but the site is no longer known. Ardeonaig, near Loch Tay ; Ben Eunaich, Dalmally ; and Damsey (Adamnan s Isle) in Orkney, take their names from this saint.

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So as you can see he was popular! But if you really want to get close visit Insh Church just South of Aviemore near Kincraig where on top of ‘Tom Eunan’ - Adomnan’s Mound sits a small beautiful church which houses a bell that for many years was attributed to St Adomnan and a basin that is probably an ancient font.

​It is thought now the bell is from the 9th or 10th century but there were many colourful stories surrounding it (as befitting an Ecclesial bell!) including how if anyone rang it one of your family would die an unpleasant death, if it was dipped in water the water would save a woman from death after child birth and how when it was taken away once down to Perthshire it came ringing back up through the glens. A most awkward bell anyway!

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Feast Day 9th June

Otherwise known as the ‘Dove of the Church’ he was born at Garten, Donegal, a member of the Clann O’Donnell and of royal descent. He was educated at the monastic school of Moville under St. Finnian and may have founded the monasteries at Durrow and Derry.

In 560 a dispute arose over a copy Columba made of St. Finnian’s book of psalms. The result was Columba’s instigation of a rebellion by Clan Neill against King Diarmait of Ireland. This culminated in the battle of Cooldrevny in 561 in which 3,000 men were killed.

As a result, St. Columba’s confessor gave him the penance of leaving Ireland and converting to Christianity as many as had been killed in the battle. In 563 Columba, aged 42, set sail with 12 followers arriving first at Southend at the tip of Kintyre and then travelling north to Iona. The island was granted to Columba for the establishment of a monastery by King Conall.

He started evangelising the Scots of Dalriada and then the more difficult Picts of Caledonia. He called on King Brude at Inverness with Saint Com- gall and St. Kenneth. King Brude refused to open the gates to the missionaries. However at the sign of the cross made by Saint Columba the barred gates of the fortress simply opened. The King was overawed, converting on the spot with the rest of the Picts following not long after. He also was said to have saved a man from the Loch Ness monster by ordering it to retreat.

St. Columba died on Iona ón the 9th June 597. It became a place of pil- grimage and has remained so ever since even though his remains were removed in 849 and divided between the Scots and the Irish, some go- ing to Dunkeld and the other half going to Downpatrick.

This is a very simple summary of the Saint’s life but what can we learn from this man who had such a great love of Christ and along with many other Saints from Ireland brought Christianity and the Gaelic language and culture to Scotland, which indeed, helped to form the identity of our nation.

At a Gaelic Mass in Oban last year Fr. William Fraser, in his sermon, made the point, that there was such a great attraction to the Gaelic language and culture in this day and age because people are thirsting for what these early saints had. Their lives were simple , their penance real and they had a great respect for the natural world. Indeed the Gaelic language, in its mode of speech, confirms the existance of God and a need for reparation. Diciadain is Wednesday and means ‘the day of the little fast’. Dihaoine is Friday and means ‘the fast day’. ’S e do bheatha is said as the Italians would say ‘Prego’ in response to saying thankyou and means ‘It is [ belonging to] Him [God/Christ] your life’ .

When Our Lady came to Lourdes and Fatima she was asking of us a return to penance and reparation. This is very much the same spirit of St. Columba and his companions. In our times of many snacks, a cheapness of life, hot water and speedy transport do we not thirst for this same spirit?

By the grace of God Colum rose to exalted companionship

Awaiting bright signs , he kept watch while he lived....

He was learning’s pillar in every stronghold....

A sound, austere sage of Christ: no fog of drink, nor fog of delights- he avoided the fill of his mouth.

He was holy, he was chaste, he was charitable, a famous stone in victory. He was a full light.

He was an ample fort for the stranger....

He was a shelter to the naked, he was a teat to the poor....

His body’s desire , he destroyed it...

He destroyed the darkness of envy, he destroyed the darkness of jealousy....

He fought a long and noble battle against the flesh.

He was constant to the memory of the cross.

What he conceived keeping vigil, by action he ascertained.

Extracts from The Amra Choluimh Chille

Saint Columba – Pray for us.

Didi Fraser