Saint Cuthbert , évêque
Né vers 634, il est élevé
en Écosse, il travaille d’abord comme berger. A 15 ans, il décide après une
expérience spirituelle, de devenir moine. Il est reçu à l’abbaye de Melrose,
dont le prieur, Saint-Boisil, lui enseigne les Écritures et les principes de la
vie religieuse. Quelques années plus tard, il accompagne l'abbé Eata au nouveau
monastère de Ripon, où il exerce la charge d'hôtelier. Il retourne ensuite à
Melrose, où il est élu abbé en remplacement de Boisil, décédé de la peste en
664. Un conflit s'étant produit à Lindisfarne, monastère frère de Melrose, il
se rend sur place, parvient à ramener la paix et y demeure plus de douze ans
comme abbé, où il introduit la liturgie romaine. Il se retire ensuite sur l’île
de Farne et s'installe dans une caverne. Huit ans plus tard, tous les notables
de la région lui rendent visite et le supplient d'accepter la dignité
épiscopale. Il refuse tout d'abord, mais finit par accepter, et c'est à York
qu'il est finalement consacré comme évêque de Lindisfarne, en 685. Moins de
deux ans plus tard, cependant, il tombe malade et abandonne son siège pour
passer les deux derniers mois de sa vie dans son île de Farne où il meurt le 20
mars 687.
Saint Cuthbert
Évêque de
Lindisfarne (+ 687)
Confesseur.
Cuthbert fut d'abord
évêque de Lindisfarne en Angleterre. Il établit le rite de la liturgie romaine
dans son diocèse. Il préféra reprendre la vie monastique au monastère de
Melrose, de tradition irlandaise, et s'en fut solitaire dans la paix de
Dieu.
Et c'est là que saint
Herbert, son meilleur ami, venait le rejoindre chaque année pendant
plusieurs jours pour parler des choses de Dieu. Ils connurent la grâce de
mourir à quelques jours l'un de l'autre et à la même heure.
Dans l’île de Farne en
Northumbrie d’Angleterre, l’an 687, le trépas de saint Cuthbert, évêque de
Lindisfarne. Il montra dans son ministère pastoral le même empressement
qu’auparavant au monastère et en ermitage. Il sut harmoniser pacifiquement les
austérités et la manière de vivre des Celtes avec les coutumes romaines, et
termina sa vie dans son ermitage insulaire.
Martyrologe romain
SOURCE : http://nominis.cef.fr/contenus/saint/837/Saint-Cuthbert.html
Cuthbert
of Lindisfarne. Fresko aus dem 11. Jh. in der Galilee-Kapelle der Durham
Cathedral
Saint-Cuthbert,
thaumaturge de Grande-Bretagne, est né en Northumbrie autour de 634. Lors qu’il
était encore jeune, gardant les moutons de son maître, il eut une vision
d'anges emmenant l'âme de saint Aidan au Ciel dans une sphère de feu. Quelques
jours plus tard, il apprit que l'évêque Aidan de Lindisfarne avait reposé à
l'heure même où Cuthbert avait vu sa vision.
Adulte, saint Cuthbert
décida de quitter le monde et d'embrasser la vie monastique. Il entra au
monastère de Melrose, où il se consacra au service de Dieu. Son jeûne et ses
veilles étaient si extraordinaires que les autres moines l’admiraient. Il
passait souvent des nuits entières en prière, et ne mangeant rien pendant des
jours et des jours. Saint Cuthbert fut ensuite choisi pour être higoumène de
Melrose, guidant les frères par ses paroles et par son exemple. Il fit des
voyages dans toute la région environnante pour encourager les chrétiens et
prêcher l'Évangile à ceux qui n’en avaient jamais entendu parler. Il accomplit
également beaucoup de miracles, guérissant les malades et libérant ceux qui
étaient possédés par des démons.
En 664, Cuthbert étant
nommé prieur, il partit à Lindisfarne. Pendant son séjour à Lindisfarne, saint
Cuthbert continua comme à son habitude de visiter les gens du commun afin de les
inciter à chercher le Royaume des Cieux. Bien que certains des moines
préféraient leur style de vie négligent à la voie ascétique, par sa patience et
sa douce persuasion, saint Cuthbert les amena progressivement à l'obéissance et
à un meilleur état d'esprit. Le saint n'hésita pas à corriger ceux qui se
comportaient mal. Toutefois, sa gentillesse lui faisait rapidement pardonner à
ceux qui se repentaient. Quand les gens se confessaient à lui, il pleurait
souvent en sympathie avec leur faiblesse et souvent lui-même accomplissait
leurs épitimies.
Saint Cuthbert fut un
vrai père pour ses moines, mais son âme aspirait à une solitude complète, alors
il alla vivre sur une petite île ( à présent île Saint Cuthbert), à une courte
distance de Lindisfarne. Après avoir obtenu la victoire sur les démons par la
prière et le jeûne, le saint décida d'aller encore plus loin de ses semblables.
En 676, il se retira à Inner Farne, un lieu encore plus éloigné. Saint Cuthbert
y construisit une petite cellule qui ne pouvait être vue depuis le continent. A
quelques mètres, il construisit une maison d'hôtes pour les visiteurs de
Lindisfarne. Il resta là pendant près de neuf ans.
Un synode à Twyford, avec
le saint archevêque Théodore comme président, élit Cuthbert évêque de Hexham en
684. l’évêque Cuthbert resta humble comme il l’avait été avant sa consécration,
en évitant les parures et il porta des vêtements simples. Il remplit ses
fonctions avec dignité et grâce, tout en continuant à vivre comme un moine.
Cependant Il servit comme évêque pendant deux ans seulement. Sentant que le
moment de sa mort approchait, saint Cuthbert renonça à ses fonctions
archipastorales, se retirant en solitude pour se préparer.
Conseillant ses frères
immédiatement avant sa mort, saint Cuthbert parla de la paix et de l'harmonie,
leur enjoignant de se tenir en garde contre ceux qui encourageaient l’orgueil
et la discorde. Bien qu'il les ait encouragés à accueillir les visiteurs et à
leur offrir l'hospitalité, il leur recommanda également de ne pas avoir de
relations avec les hérétiques ou avec ceux qui menaient une mauvaise vie. Il
leur dit d'apprendre les enseignements des Pères et de les mettre en pratique,
et d’adhérer à la règle monastique qu’il leur avait apprise. Après avoir reçu
des Saints Mystères du Christ, saint Cuthbert remit son âme sainte à Dieu le 20
Mars 687.
Onze ans plus tard, le
tombeau de saint Cuthbert fut ouvert et ses reliques furent trouvées non
corrompues. Dans les siècles subséquents, les reliques furent déplacées à
plusieurs reprises en raison de la menace d'une invasion. Elles furent
finalement portées en lieu sûr, à Durham. Les reliques du saint furent ouvertes
à nouveau le 24 août 1104, et les reliques incorruptibles et fragrantes furent
placées dans la cathédrale, récemment achevée.
En 1537, trois
commissaires du roi Henry VIII vinrent piller la tombe et profaner les
reliques. Le corps de saint Cuthbert était encore intact, et il fut inhumé plus
tard. La tombe fut ouverte à nouveau en 1827. Dans le cercueil intérieur il y
avait un squelette enveloppé dans un linceul et cinq tuniques. Dans les
vêtements, une Croix d'or et de grenat fut trouvée, c’était probablement la
Croix pectorale de saint Cuthbert. On trouva également un peigne en ivoire, un
autel portatif de bois et d'argent, un épitrachelion, des morceaux d'un
cercueil en bois sculpté, et d'autres articles. Ceux-ci peuvent être vus à ce
jour dans le trésor de la cathédrale de Durham.
Saint Cuthbert est fêté
le 20Mars.
Version française Claude
Lopez-Ginisty
d'après
http://www.oodegr.com/english/biographies/
arxaioi/Cuthbert_Lindisfarne.htm
SOURCE : http://orthodoxologie.blogspot.ca/2010/04/saint-cuthbert-eveque-de-lindisfarne.html
Also
known as
Thaumaturgus of England
Wonder-Worker of England
4
September (translation of relics)
Profile
Orphaned at
an early age. Shepherd.
Received a vision of Saint Aidan
of Lindesfarne entering heaven; the sight led Cuthbert to become
a Benedictine monk at
age 17 at the monastery of Melrose,
which had been founded by Saint Aidan.
Guest-master at Melrose where he was know for his charity to poor travellers;
legend says that he once entertained an angel disguised
as a beggar.
Spiritual student of Saint Boswell. Prior of Melrose in 664.
Due to a dispute
over liturgical practice,
Cuthbert and other monks abandoned Melrose for Lindisfarne.
There he worked with Saint Eata. Prior and
then abbot of Lindesfarne until 676. Hermit on
the Farnes Islands. Bishop of Hexham, England. Bishop of Lindesfarne in 685.
Friend of Saint Ebbe
the Elder. Worked with plague victims
in 685.
Noted (miraculous) healer.
Had the gift of prophecy.
Evangelist in
his diocese,
often to the discomfort of local authorities both secular and ecclesiastical.
Presided over his abbey and
his diocese during
the time when Roman rites were
supplanting the Celtic,
and all the churches in the British Isles were brought under a single
authority.
Born
634 somewhere
in the British Isles
20
March 687 at Lindesfarne, England of
natural causes
interred with
the head of Saint Oswald,
which was buried with
him for safe keeping
body removed to Durham Cathedral at Lindesfarne in 1104
his body, and the head
of Saint Oswald,
were incorrupt
bishop accompanied
by swans and
otters
bishop holding
the crowned head
of Saint Oswald
hermit with
tau staff being fed by an eagle
incorrupt body being
found with a chalice on
his breast
man praying by
the sea
man rebuilding a hut and
driving out devils
man rebuking crows
man tended by eagles
man tended by swans
man tended by sea otters
man with a Benedictine monk kissing
his feet
man with pillars of light
above him
—
Hexham and Newcastle, England, diocese of
Lancaster, England, diocese of
Additional
Information
Apostle
of Northumbria, by Leonora Blanche Lang
Book
of Saints, by the Monks of
Ramsgate
Book
of Saints and Friendly Beasts, by Abbie Farwell Brown
Catholic
Encyclopedia, by Edwin Burton
Golden
Legend, by Jacobus
de Voragine
Legends
of Saints and Birds, by Agnes Aubrey Hilton
Lives
of the Saints, by Father Alban
Butler
Lives
of the Saints, by Father Alban
Butler
Our
Island Saints, by Amy Steedman
Saints
of the Day, by Katherine Rabenstein
Saints
of the Order of Saint Benedict, by Father Aegedius
Ranbeck, O.S.B.
Short
Lives of the Saints, by Eleanor Cecilia Donnelly
books
Our Sunday Visitor’s Encyclopedia of Saints
other
sites in english
Christ
Church stained glass window
Christian
Biographies, by James Keifer
Life
and Miracles of Saint Cuthbert, by Saint Bede
images
ebooks
Life
of Saint Cuthbert, by Edward Consitt
sitios
en español
Martirologio Romano, 2001 edición
fonti
in italiano
Readings
According to F. Cashier,
the swan is chiefly assigned to this saint, for this bird has been chosen as an
emblem of men who are particularly attached to a solitary life, since it is
generally very silent. However, we are inclined to think that the bird here
mentioned was the downy goose, and not the swan.
Let us judge from what M.
de Montalembert says, “They used to swarm on the rock (of Lindisfarne) in
former days, and are still found there, though in much smaller numbers, on
account of the people who come and steal their nests and shoot them. These
birds were found nowhere else in the British Isles, and were called the birds
of Saint Cuthbert. It is he who, according to a monk of the thirteenth century,
inspired their hereditary confidence because he took them for companions of his
solitude, and was careful that no one should disturb them in their
habits.” – from “The Little Bollandists” by Monsignor Paul Guérin, 1882
MLA
Citation
“Saint Cuthbert of
Lindisfarne“. CatholicSaints.Info. 4 November 2021. Web. 28 January 2023.
<https://catholicsaints.info/saint-cuthbert-of-lindisfarne/>
SOURCE : https://catholicsaints.info/saint-cuthbert-of-lindisfarne/
St. Cuthbert
Bishop of Lindisfarne, patron of Durham,
born about 635; died 20 March, 687. His emblem is the head of St. Oswald,
king and martyr,
which he is represented as bearing in his hands. His feast is
kept in Great Britain and Ireland on
the 20th of March, and he is patron of the Diocese
of Hexham and Newcastle, where his commemoration is inserted among
the Suffrages of the Saints. His early biographers give no
particulars of his birth, and the accounts in the "Libellus de ortu",
which represent him as the son of an Irish king
named Muriahdach, though recently supported by Cardinal
Moran and Archbishop Healy, are rejected by
later English writers as legendary. Moreover, St.
Bede's phrase, Brittania . . . genuit (Vita Metricia,
c. i), points to his English birth. He was probably born in the
neighbourhood of Mailros (Melrose) of lowly parentage, for as a
boy he used to tend sheep on the mountain-sides near that monastery.
While still a child living with his foster-mother Kenswith his future lot
as bishop had
been foretold by a little play-fellow, whose prophecy had a lasting
effect on his character. He was influenced, too, by the holiness of
the community of Mailros, where St.
Eata was abbot and St.
Basil prior. In the year 651, while watching his sheep, he saw in
a vision the soul of St.
Aidan carried to heaven by angels,
and inspired by this became a monk at Mailros.
Yet it would seem that the troubled state of the country hindered him from
carrying out his resolution at once. Certain it is that at one part of his life
he was a soldier, and the years which succeed the death of St.
Aidan and Oswin of Deira seem to have been such as would
call for the military service of most of the able-bodied men of
Northumbria, which was constantly threatened at this time by the ambition of
its southern neighbor, King Penda of Mercia. Peace was not restored to the land
until some four years later, as the consequence of a great battle which was
fought between the Northumbrians and the Mercians at
Winwidfield. It was probably after this battle that Cuthbert found
himself free once more to turn to the life he desired. He arrived
at Mailros on horseback and armed with a spear. Here he soon became
eminent for holiness and
learning, while from the first his life was distinguished by supernatural occurrences
and miracles.
When the monastery at
Ripon was founded he went there as guest-master, but in 661 he, with
other monks who
adhered to the customs of Celtic
Christianity, returned to Mailros owing to
the adoption at Ripon of the Roman Usage in
celebrating Easter and
other matters. Shortly after his return he was struck by a pestilence which
then attacked the community, but he recovered, and became prior in
place of St.
Boisil, who died of the disease in 664. In this year the Synod
of Whitby decided in favour of the Roman Usage, and St.
Cuthbert, who accepted the decision, was sent by St.
Eata to be prior at Lindisfarne,
in order that he might introduce the Roman customs into that house.
This was a difficult matter which needed all his gentle tact and
patience to carry out successfully, but the fact that one so renowned for sanctity,
who had himself been brought up in the Celtic tradition, was loyally
conforming to the Roman use, did much to support
the cause of St.
Wilfrid. In this matter St. Cuthbert's influence on
his time was very marked. At Lindisfarne he
spent much time in evangelizing the people. He was noted
for his devotion to the Mass, which he could not celebrate
without tears, and for the success with which his zealous charity drew
sinners to God.
At length, in 676, moved
by a desire to attain greater perfection by means of
the contemplative life, he retired, with the abbot's leave,
to a spot which Archbishop Eyre identifies with St.
Cuthbert's Island near Lindisfarne,
but which Raine thinks was near Holburn, where "St. Cuthbert's
Cave" is still shown. Shortly afterwards he removed to Farne Island,
opposite Bamborough in Northumberland, where he gave himself up to a
life of great austerity. After some years he was called from this retirement by
a synod of bishops held
at Twyford in Northumberland, under St. Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury.
At this meeting he was elected Bishop of Lindisfarne,
as St.
Eata was now translated to Hexham.
For a long time he withstood all pressure and only yielded after a long
struggle. He was consecrated at York by St.
Theodore in the presence of six bishops,
at Easter,
685. For two years he acted as bishop,
preaching and labouring without intermission, with wonderful results. At Christmas,
686, foreseeing the near approach of death, he resigned his see and
returned to his cell on Farne Island, where two months later he was seized with
a fatal illness. In his last days, in March, 687, he was tended by monks of Lindisfarne,
and received the last sacraments from Abbot Herefrid,
to whom he spoke his farewell words, exhorting the monks to
be faithful to Catholic unity and
the traditions of the Fathers. He died shortly after midnight,
and at exactly the same hour that night his friend St. Herbert, the hermit,
also died, as St. Cuthbert had predicted.
St. Cuthbert
was buried in his monastery at Lindisfarne,
and his tomb immediately
became celebrated for remarkable miracles.
These were so numerous and extraordinary that he was called the
"Wonder-worker of England".
In 698 the first transfer of the relics took
place, and the body was found incorrupt. During the Danish invasion
of 875, Bishop Eardulf and the monks fled
for safety, carrying the body of the saint with
them. For seven years they wandered, bearing it first into Cumberland, then
into Galloway and
back to Northumberland. In 883 it was placed in
a church at Chester-le-Street, near Durham,
given to the monks by
the converted Danish king,
who had a great devotion to the saint,
like King
Alfred, who also honoured St.
Cuthbert as his patron and was a benefactor to this church.
Towards the end of the tenth century, the shrine was removed to Ripon,
owing to fears of fresh invasion. After a few months it was being
carried back to be restored to Chester-le-Street, when, on arriving
at Durham a
new miracle, tradition says,
indicated that this was to be the resting-place of the saint's body.
Here it remained, first in a chapel formed
of boughs, then in a wooden and finally in a stone church, built on
the present site of Durham cathedral,
and finished in 998 or 999. While William the Conqueror was ravaging
the North in 1069, the body was once more removed, this time to Lindisfarne,
but it was soon restored. In 1104, the shrine was transferred to the
present cathedral,
when the body was again found incorrupt, with it being the head of St.
Oswald, which had been placed with St. Cuthbert's body for safety — a fact
which accounts for the well-known symbol of the saint.
From
this time to the Reformation the
shrine remained the great centre of devotion throughout the North
of England.
In 1542 it was plundered of all its treasures, but the monks had
already hidden the saint's body
in a secret place. There is a well-known tradition, alluded to in Scott's
"Marmion", to the effect that the secret of the hiding-place is known
to certain Benedictines who
hand it down from one generation to another. In 1827 the Anglican clergy of
the cathedral found
a tomb alleged
to be that of the saint,
but the discovery was challenged by Dr.
Lingard, who showed cause for doubting the identity of
the body found with that of St. Cuthbert. Archbishop Eyre,
writing in 1849, considered that the coffin found was undoubtedly that of
the saint,
but that the body had been removed and other remains substituted, while a later
writer, Monsignor Consitt, though not expressing a definite view,
seems inclined to allow that the remains found in 1827 were truly the bones
of St. Cuthbert. Many traces of the former widespread devotion to St.
Cuthbert still survive in the numerous churches, monuments,
and crosses raised in his honour,
and in such terms as "St. Cuthbert's patrimony", "St.
Cuthbert's Cross", "Cuthbert ducks" and "Cuthbert
down". The centre of modern devotion to him is found at St.
Cuthbert's College, Ushaw, near Durham,
where the episcopal ring of gold, enclosing a sapphire, taken
from his finger in 1537, is preserved, and where under
his patronage most of the priests for
the northern counties of England are
trained. His name is connected with two famous early copies of
the Gospel text. The first, known as the Lindisfarne or Cuthbert Gospels (now
in the British Museum, Cotton manuscripts Nero
D 4), was written in the eighth century by Eadfrid, Bishop of Lindisfarne.
It contains the four gospels and between the lines a number of
valuable Anglo-Saxon (Northumbrian) glosses; though written by
an Anglo-Saxon hand it is considered by the
best judges (Westwood) a noble work of old-Irish calligraphy and
illumination, Lindisfarne as
is well known being an Irish foundation.
The manuscript,
one of the most splendid in Europe,
was originally placed by its scribe as an offering on the
shrine of Cuthbert, and was soon richly decorated
by monastic artists (Ethelwold, Bilfrid) and provided by
another (Aldred) with the aforesaid
interlinear gloss (Karl Bouterwek, Die vier Evangelian in
altnordhumbrischer Sprache, 1857). It has also a history scarcely
less romantic than the body of Cuthbert. When in the ninth century
the monks fled
before the Danes with the latter treasure, they took with them
this manuscript,
but on one occasion lost it in the Irish Channel.
After three days it was found on the seashore at Whithern,
unhurt save for some stains of brine. Henceforth in the
inventories of Durham and Lindisfarne it
was known as "Liber S. Cuthberti qui demersus est
in mare" (the book of St. Cuthbert that fell into the sea). Its
text was edited by Stevenson and Warning (London, 1854-65)
and since then by Kemble and Hardwick, and
by Skeat (see LINDISFARNE). The second
early Gospel text connected with his name is the
seventh-century Gospel of St. John (now in possession of the Jesuit College at Stonyhurst, England)
found in 1105 in the grave of St. Cuthbert.
Burton,
Edwin. "St. Cuthbert." The Catholic Encyclopedia. Vol.
4. New York: Robert Appleton Company, 1908. 19 Mar.
2016<http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/04578a.htm>.
Transcription. This
article was transcribed for New Advent by Paul Knutsen.
Ecclesiastical
approbation. Nihil Obstat. Remy Lafort, Censor. Imprimatur. +John
M. Farley, Archbishop of New York.
Copyright © 2021 by Kevin Knight.
Dedicated to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
SOURCE : http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/04578a.htm
Saint
Cuthbert. Detail from Christopher Whall window in Gloucester Cathedral.
Saint Cuthbert
St. Cuthbert (634
-687) was thought by some to be Irish and by others, a Scot. Bede, the
noted historian, says he was a Briton. Orphaned when a young child, he was a
shepherd for a time, possibly fought against the Mercians, and became a monk at
Melrose Abbey.
In 661, he accompanied
St. Eata to Ripon Abbey, which the abbot of Melrose had built, but returned to
Melrose the following year when King Alcfrid turned the abbey over to St.
Wilfrid, and then became Prior of Melrose. Cuthbert engaged in missionary work
and when St. Colman refused to accept the decision of the Council of Whitby in
favor of the Roman liturgical practices and immigrated with most of the monks
of Lindisfarn to Ireland, St. Eata was appointed bishop in his place and named
Cuthbert Prior of Lindisfarn.
He resumed his missionary
activities and attracted huge crowds until he received his abbot’s permission
to live as a hermit, at first on a nearby island and then in 676, at one of the
Farnes Islands near Bamborough. Against his will, he was elected bishop of
Hexham in 685, arranged with St. Eata to swap Sees, and became bishop of
Lindisfarn but without the monastery. He spent the last two years of his
life administering his See, caring for the sick of the plague that dessimated
his diocese, working numerous miracles of healing, and gifted with the ability
to prophesy. He died at Lindisfarn. Feast day is March 20.
SOURCE : http://www.ucatholic.com/saints/cuthbert/
.jpg)
St
Cuthbert, Ackworth, West Yorkshire, England. The nave and chancel were restored
by John West Hugall in 1852-1854. The 15th century tower remains. Some carving
by Robert Mawer, and some by Catherine Mawer and William Ingle. This is St
Cuthbert above the porch door, carved by Catherine.
.jpg)
CUTHBERT OF LINDISFARNE.
634 A.D. – 687 A.D.
Cuthberts’ Call…
When Cuthbert was a child
he was not interested in anything spiritual, he loved sports and he loved to
play. He was always looking for a challenge or a challenger..One day while he
was playing a game in a field, at about eight years old, a little boy of around
three years old ran up to him. The child asked Cuthbert why he was playing and
wasting his time on sports when he should be praying and preparing to serve
God. When Cuthbert laughed, the little boy threw himself on the ground and
began to sob. The other boys tried to console the child but it was no use.
Cuthbert also tried to comfort him. The little boy got up and addressed
Cuthbert sternly, “Why are you so stubborn in playing these games when God is
calling you to serve him?” The child prophesied that one day Cuthbert would be
a Bishop. Cuthbert was amazed and he hugged the child who immediately stopped
crying. He knew that the words had reached Cuthberts’ heart.
Later on Cuthbert was a
shepherd, and one night when he saw a light streaming from Heaven he discovered
that Aiden the Beloved Bishop of Lindisfarne had died, he immediately went and
took the sheep to their owner and decided to become a monk at the monastery at
Melrose.
Cuthberts’ life was
filled with incredible spiritual miracles including incidents with animals and
birds which was fairly common with the Celtic church (came from the stream of
the church which flowed from the Desert fathers in Egypt).
Cuthbert and the Otters
One of the young men
wanted to find out where Cuthbert went in the night-time when he left the
monastery and so he followed him secretly. Cuthbert went into the river up to
his neck and stayed for several hours worshipping and praying. When he came out
of the water two otters came to him and stretched themselves out beside him,
warming him with the heat of their own bodies. The young man who had followed
him was so frightened he had difficulty making it back to the monastery. When
he saw Cuthbert he fell at his feet asking forgiveness for his spying.
Cuthbert and the birds…
Cuthbert decided, having
left the monastery that he wanted to emulate the lives of the Desert Fathers,
and live by the labor of his own hands. He asked the monks to bring him barley
seeds to sow. Having planted the barley, it soon sprang up, but just as it was
ripening, some birds flew down and began to eat it.. Cuthbert came out and
began to scold the birds, “Why are you eating that which you didn’t sow? Is it
that your need is greater than mine? If so, you can have permission to help
yourselves; if not go away, and stop taking that which does not belong to you.”
The birds left and the barley was harvested. A while later the birds returned
and began taking straw from the roof for their nests. Cuthbert again came out
and shouted at them, “In the name of Jesus Christ, depart at once; do not dare
to cause further damage.” When he finished speaking the birds flew away. Three
days later they returned when Cuthbert was digging, and they came and stood in
front of him with their heads bowed down. Cuthbert was happy to forgive them
and invited them to return. Next time the birds came back bringing a lump of
pigs lard which Cuthbert kept in the guest house for his visitors to grease
their shoes. He said, “If the birds can show humility, how much more should we
humans seek such virtues.” The birds remained on the island with Cuthbert for
many years, building nests with materials they found THEMSELVES.
Just prior to his death
Cuthbert felt a fire in his stomach and the same day a minister/ priest arrived
by boat. Cuthbert knew that he was going to leaving this world and sat down and
dictated his final instructions for the brethren. “Live at peace with one
another, when you meet try and agree and be of one mind. Live at peace with
those around you and never treat anyone else with contempt. Always welcome
others to your monastery. Never imagine that you or your way of life is
superior to others, all who share the Christian faith are equal in Gods
sight..” When he had finished speaking he was very quiet. He stayed quiet until
the evening when he took communion. As he took the bread he lifted his arms
upward as if embracing someone, then his face filled with joy, he gave up his
spirit to God.
O’Hanlans Lives of
the Irish Saints
FROM CELTIC FLAMES-KATHIE
WALTERS
Cuthbert of Lindisfarne, OSB B (RM)
Born in Northumbria, England (?) or Ireland, c. 634; died on Inner Farne in
March 20, 687; feast of his translation to Durham, September 4. Saint Cuthbert
is possibly the most venerated saint in England, especially in the northern
part of the country, where he was a very active missionary. Yet his real
nationality is debated. His biographer, Saint Bede, did not specify it. Of
course, the English claim him, but so do the Scottish.
There is a good
likelihood the he was an Irishman named Mulloche, great-grandson of the High
King Muircertagh of Ireland because, according to Moran citing documents in
Durham Cathedral, the rood screen bore the inscription: "Saint Cuthbert,
Patron of Church, City and Liberty of Durham, an Irishman by birth of royal
parentage who was led by God's Providence to England." The cathedral's
stained glass windows, which had been registered but destroyed during the reign
of Henry VI, depicted the saint's life begin with his birth "at
Kells" in Meath. This fact is corroborated by an ancient manuscript viewed
by Alban Butler at Cottonian Library. One tradition relates that his mother,
the Irish princess Saba, set out on a pilgrimage to Rome, left Cuthbert in the
care of Kenswith, and died in Rome.
Thus, Cuthbert, like
David, was a shepherd boy on the hills above Leader Water or the valley of the
Tweed. Of unknown parentage, he was reared in the Scottish lowlands by a poor
widow named Kenswith, and was a cripple because of an abscess on the knee made
worse by an attempted cure. But despite this disability he was boisterous and
high-spirited, and so physically strong that after he became a monk, on a visit
to the monastery at Coldingham, he spent a whole night upon the shore in
prayer, and strode into the cold sea praising God.
According to one of Saint
Bede's two vitae of the saint, when Cuthbert was about 15, he had a vision of
angels conducting the soul of Saint Aidan to heaven. Later, while still a
youth, he became a monk under Saint Eata at Melrose Abbey on the Tweed River.
The prior of Melrose, Saint Boisil, taught Cuthbert Scripture and the pattern
of a devout life. Cuthbert went with Eata to the newly-founded abbey of Ripon
in 661 as guest steward. He returned to Melrose, still just a mission station
of log shanties, when King Alcfrid turned Ripon over to Saint Wilfrid. It was
from Melrose that Cuthbert began his missionary efforts throughout Northumbria.
Cuthbert attended Boisil
when the latter contracted the plague. The book of the Scriptures from which he
read the Gospel of John to the dying prior was laid on the altar at Durham in
the 13th century on Saint Cuthbert's feast. Thus, in 664, Cuthbert became prior
of Melrose at the death of Boisil. Soon thereafter Cuthbert fell deathly ill
with the same epidemic. Upon hearing that the brethren had prayed throughout
the night for his recovery, he called for his staff, dressed, and undertook his
duties (but he never fully recovered his health thereafter).
In 664, when Saint Colman
refused to accept the decision of the Synod of Whitby in favor of Roman
liturgical custom and migrated to Ireland with his monks, Saint Tuda was
consecrated bishop in his place, while Eata was named abbot and Cuthbert prior
of Lindisfarne, a small island joined to the coast at low tide. From
Lindisfarne Cuthbert extended his work southward to the people of
Northumberland and Durham.
Afterwards Cuthbert was
made abbot of Lindisfarne, where he grew to love the wild rocks and sea, and
where the birds and beasts came at his call. Then for eight years beginning in
676, Cuthbert followed his solitary nature by removing himself to the solitude
of the isolated, infertile island of Farne, where it was believed that he was
fed by the angels. There built an oratory and a cell with only a single small
window for communication with the outside world. But he was still sought after,
and twice the king of Northumberland implored him to accept election as bishop
of Hexham, to which he finally agreed in 684, though unwillingly and with
tears.
Almost immediately
Cuthbert exchanged his see with Eata for that of Lindisfarne, which Cuthbert
preferred. Thus, on Easter Sunday 685, Cuthbert was consecrated bishop of
Lindisfarne by Saint Theodore archbishop of Canterbury, with six bishops in
attendance at York. For two years Cuthbert was bishop of Lindisfarne, still
maintaining his frugal ways and "first doing himself what he taught
others." He administered his see, cared for the sick of the plague that
decimated his see, distributed alms liberally, and worked so many miracles of
healing that he was known in his lifetime as the "Wonder-Worker of Britain."
Then at Christmas in 686, in failing health and knowing that his end was near,
he resigned his office and retired again to his island cell; but though
seriously ill and suffering intensely, he refused all aid, allowing none to
nurse him, and finished his course alone.
In the very act of
lifting his hands in prayer "his soul sped its way to the joys of the
heavenly kingdom." News of his death was flashed by lantern to the
watchers at Lindisfarne. Bede reports: "As the tiny gleam flashed over the
dark reach of sea, and the watchman hurried with his news into the church, the
brethren of the Holy Island were singing the words of the Psalmist: "Thou
hast cast us out and scattered us abroad . . . Thou hast shown thy people heavy
things."
He was buried at
Lindisfarne, where they remained incorrupt for several centuries, but after the
Viking raids began his remains wandered with the displaced monks for about 100
years until they were translated to Durham cathedral in 1104. Until its
desecration under Henry VIII, his shrine at Durham was one of the most
frequented places of pilgrimage for the power of healing that Cuthbert
possessed during his lifetime lived on after him. The bones discovered in 1827
beneath the site of the medieval shrine are probably his. He is said to have
had supernatural gifts of healing and insight, and people thronged to consult
him, so that he became known as the wonder-worker of Britain. He had great
qualities as a preacher, and made many missionary journeys. Bede wrote that
"Cuthbert was so great a speaker and had such a light in his angelic face.
He also had such a love for proclaiming his good news, that none hid their
innermost secrets from him." Year after year, on horseback and on foot, he
ventured into the remotest territories between Berwick and Galloway. He built
the first oratory at Dull, Scotland, with a large stone cross before it and a
little cell for himself. Here a monastery arose that became Saint Andrew's
University.
His task was not easy,
for he lived in an area of vast solitude, of wild moors and sedgy marshes
crossed only by boggy tracts, with widely scattered groups of huts and hovels
inhabited by a wild and heathen peasantry full of fears and superstitions and haunted
by terror of pagan gods. His days were filled with incessant activity in an
attempt to keep the spirit of Christianity alive and each night he kept vigil
with God.
But unlike the Celtic
missionaries, he spoke their language and knew their ways, for he had lived
like them in a peasant's home. Once, when a snowstorm drove his boat onto the
coast of Fife, he cried to his companions in the storm: "The snow closes
the road along the shore; the storm bars our way over the sea. But there is
still the way of Heaven that lies open."
Cuthbert was the Apostle
of the Lowlands, renowned for his vigor and good-humor; he outstripped his
fellow monks in visiting the loneliest and most dangerous outposts from cottage
to cottage from Berwick to Solway Firth to bring the Good News of Christ.
Selflessly he entered the houses of those stricken by the plague. And he was
the most lovable of saints. His patience and humility persuaded the reluctant
monks of Lindisfarne to adopt the Benedictine Rule.
He is especially appealing
to us today because he was a keenly observant man, interested in the ways of
birds and beasts. In fact, the Farne Islands, which served as a hermitage to
the monks of Durham, are now a bird and wildlife sanctuary appropriately under
the protection of Cuthbert. In his own time he was famed as a worker of
miracles in God's name. On one occasion he healed a woman's dying baby with a
kiss. The tiny seashells found only on his Farne Island are traditionally
called Saint Cuthbert's Beads, and are said by sailors to have been made by
him. This tradition is incorporated in Sir Walter Scott's Marmion.
The ample sources for his
life and character show a man of extraordinary charm and practical ability, who
attracted people deeply by the beauty of holiness.
His cultus is recalled in
places names, such as Kirkcudbright (Galloway), Cotherstone (Yorkshire), Cubert
(Cornwall), and more than 135 church dedications in England as well as an
additional 17 in Scotland. A chapel in the crypt of Fulda was dedicated to him
at its consecration (Attwater, Attwater2, Benedictines, Bentley, Colgrave,
D'Arcy, Delaney, Encyclopedia, Fitzpatrick, Gill, Montague, Montalembert2,
Moran, Skene, Tabor, Webb).
The following legends
about Saint Cuthbert reveal as much about their author, the Venerable Bede as
they do about Saint Cuthbert. Though they repeat in detail some of what is
outlined above, they show the historian's care to note source and authority and
show his quick eye that observes nature in detail. The complete biography can
be found at the Medieval Sourcebook.
"One day as he rode
his solitary way about the third hour after sunrise, he came by chance upon a
hamlet a spear's cast from the track, and turned off the road to it. The woman
of the house that he went into was the pious mother of a family, and he was
anxious to rest there a little while, and to ask some provision for the horse
that carried him rather than for himself, for it was the oncoming of winter.
"The woman brought him kindly in, and was earnest with him that he would
let her get ready a meal, for his own comfort, but the man of God denied her.
'I must not eat yet,' said he, 'because today is a fast.' It was indeed Friday
when the faithful for the most part prolong their fast until the third hour
before sunset, for reverence of the Lord's Passion.
"The woman, full of hospitable zeal, insisted. 'See now,' said she, 'the
road that you are going, you will find never a clachan or a single house upon
it, and indeed you have a long way yet before you, and you will not be at the
end of it before sundown. So do, I ask you, take some food before you go, or
you will have to keep your fast the whole day, and maybe even till the morrow.'
But though she pressed him hard, devotion to his religion overcame her
entreating, and he went through the day fasting, until evening.
"But as twilight fell and he began to see that he could not come to the
end of the journey he had planned that day, and that there was no human
habitation near where he could stay the night, suddenly as he rode he saw close
by a huddle of shepherds' huts, built ramshackle for the summer, and now lying
open and deserted.
"Thither he went in search of shelter, tethered his horse to the inside
wall, gathered up a bundle of hay that the wind had torn from the thatch, and
set it before him for fodder. Himself had begun to say his hours, when suddenly
in the midst of his chanting of the Psalms he saw his horse rear up his head
and begin cropping the thatch of the hovel and dragging it down, and in the
middle of the falling thatch came tumbling a linen cloth lapped up; curious to
know what it might be, he finished his prayer, came up and found wrapped in the
linen cloth a piece of loaf still hot, and meat, enough for one man's meal.
"And chanting his thanks for heaven's grace, 'I thank God,' said he, 'Who
has stooped to make a feast for me that was fasting for love of His Passion,
and for my comrade.' So he divided the piece of loaf that he had found and gave
half to the horse, and the rest he kept for himself to eat, and from that day
he was the readier to fasting because he understood that the meal had been
prepared for him in the solitude by His gift Who of old fed Elijah the solitary
in like fashion by the birds, when there was no man near to minister to him; Whose
eyes are on them that fear Him and that hope in His mercy, that He will snatch
their souls from death and cherish them in their hunger.
"And this story I had from a brother of our monastery which is at the
mouth of the river Wear, a priest, Ingwald by name, who has the grace of his
great age rather to contemplate things eternal with a pure heart than things
temporal with the eyes of earth; and he said that he had it from Cuthbert
himself, the time that he was bishop."
And a second story
recorded by Bede:
"It was his way for
the most part to wander in those places and to preach in those remote hamlets,
perched on steep rugged mountain sides, where other men would have a dread of
going, and whose poverty and rude ignorance gave no welcome to any scholar. . .
. Often for a whole week, sometimes for two or three, and even for a full
month, he would not return home, but would abide in the mountains, and call
these simple folk to heavenly things by his word and his ways. . . ."
[He was, moreover, easily entreated, and came to stay at the abbey of
Coldingham on a cliff above the sea.]
"As was his habit, at night while other men took their rest, he would go
out to pray; and after long vigils kept far into the night, he would come home
when the hour of common prayer drew near. One night, a brother of this same
monastery saw him go silently out, and stealthily followed on his track, to see
where he was going or what he would do.
"And so he went out from the monastery and, his spy following him went
down to the sea, above which the monastery was built; and wading into the
depths till the waves swelled up to his neck and arms, kept his vigil through
the dark with chanting voiced like the sea. As the twilight of dawn drew near,
he waded back up the beach, and kneeling there, again began to pray; and as he
prayed, straight from the depths of the sea came two four-footed beasts which
are called by the common people otters.
"These, prostrate before him on the sand, began to busy themselves warming
his feet with pantings, and trying to dry them with their fur; and when this
good office was rendered, and they had his benediction, they slipped back again
beneath their native waters. He himself returned home, and sang the hymns of
the office with the brethren at the appointed hour. But the brother who had
stood watching him from the cliffs was seized with such panic that he could
hardly make his way home, tottering on his feet; and early in the morning came
to him and fell at his feet, begging forgiveness with his tears for his foolish
attempt, never doubting but that his behavior of the nights was known and
discovered.
"To whom Cuthbert: 'What ails you, my brother? What have you done? Have
you been out and about to try to come at the truth of this night wandering of
mine? I forgive you, on this one condition: That you promise to tell no man
what you saw, until my death.' . . . And the promise given, he blessed the
brother and absolved him alike of the fault and the annoyance his foolish
boldness had given: The brother kept silence on the piece of valor that he had
seen, until after the Saint's death, when he took pains to tell it to
many"
Bede relates another
story:
After many years at
Lindisfarne Abbey, Cuthbert set out to become a hermit on an island called
Farne, which unlike Lindisfarne, "which twice a day by the upswelling of
the ocean tide . . . becomes an island, and twice a day, its shore again bared
by the tide outgoing, is restored to its neighbor the land. . . . No man,
before God's servant Cuthbert, had been able to make his dwelling here alone,
for the phantoms of demons that haunted it; but at the coming of Christ's
soldier, armed with the helmet of salvation, the shield of faith and the sword
of the Spirit which is the word of God, the fiery darts of the wicked fell
quenched, and the foul Enemy himself, with all his satellite mob, was put to
flight."
Cuthbert built himself a cell on the island by cutting away the living rock of
a cave. He constructed a wall out of rough boulders and turf. Some of the
boulders were so large that "one would hardly think four men could lift
them, and yet he is known to have carried them thither with angelic help and
set them into the wall. He had two houses in his enclosure, one an oratory, the
other a dwelling place. . . . At the harbor of the island was a larger house in
which the brethren when they came to visit him could be received and take their
rest. . . ."
At first he accepted bread from Lindisfarne, "but after a while he felt it
was more fit that he should live by the work of his own hand, after the example
of the Fathers. So he asked them to bring him tools to dig the ground with, and
wheat to sow; but the grain that he had sown in spring showed no sign of a crop
even by the middle of the summer. So when the brethren as usual were visiting
him the man of God said, 'It may be the nature of the soil, or it may be it is
not the will of God that any wheat should grow for me in this place: So bring
me, I pray you, barley, and perhaps I may raise some harvest from it. But if God
will give it no increase, it would be better for me to go back to the community
than be supported here on other men's labors.'
"They brought him the barley, and he committed it to the ground, far past
the time of sowing, and past all hope of springing: and soon there appeared an
abundant crop. When it began to ripen, then came the birds, and its was who
among them should devour the most. So up comes God's good servant, as he would
afterwards tell--for many a time, with his benign and joyous regard, he would
tell in company some of the things that he himself had won by faith, and so
strengthen the faith of his hearers--'And why,' says he, 'are you touching a
crop you did not sow? Or is it, maybe, that you have more need of it than I? If
you have God's leave, do what He allows you: but if not, be off, and do no more
damage to what is not your own.' He spoke, and at the first word of command,
the birds were off in a body and come what might for ever after they contained
themselves from any trespass on his harvests. . . .
"And here might be told a miracle done by the blessed Cuthbert in the
fashion of the aforesaid Father, Benedict, wherein the obedience and humility
of the birds put to shame the obstinacy and arrogance of men. Upon that island
for a great while back a pair of ravens had made their dwelling: And one day at
their nesting time the man of God spied them tearing with their beaks at the
thatch on the brethren's hospice of which I have spoken, and carrying off
pieces of it in their bills to build their nest.
"He thrust at them gently with his hand, and bade them give over this
damage to the brethren. And when they scoffed at his command, 'In the name of
Jesus Christ,' said he, 'be off with you as quick as ye may, and never more
presume to abide in the place which ye have spoiled.' And scarcely had he
spoken, when they flew dismally away.
"But toward the end of the third day, one of the two came back, and
finding Christ's servant busy digging, comes with his wings lamentably trailing
and his head bowed to his feet, and his voice low and humble, and begs pardon
with such signs as he might: which the good father well understanding, gives
him permission to return.
"As for the other, leave once obtained, he straight off goes to fetch his
mae, and with no tarrying, back they both come, and carrying along with them a
suitable present, no less than a good- sized hunk of hog's lard such as one
greases axles with: Many a time thereafter the man of God would show it the
brethren who came to see him, and would offer it to grease their shoes, and he
would urge on them how obedient and humble men should be, when the proudest of
birds made haste with prayers and lamentation and presents to atone for the
insult he had given to man. And so, for an example of reformed life to men,
these did abide for many years thereafter on that same island, and built their
nest, nor ever wrought annoyance upon any" (Bede).
In art, Saint Cuthbert is
dressed in episcopal vestments bearing the crowned head of Saint Oswald (Seal
of Lindisfarne). At times he may be shown (1) with pillars of light above him;
(2) with swans tending him; (3) as a hermit with a tau staff being fed by an
eagle; (4) rebuking crows; (5) rebuilding a hut and driving out devils; (6)
praying by the sea; (7) with a Benedictine monk kissing his feet; (8) when his
incorrupt body was found with a chalice on his breast (Roeder); or (9) tended
by sea otters, which signifies either his living in the midst of waters, or
alludes to a legend. It is said that one night as he lay on the cold shore,
exhausted from his penances, two otters revived his numb limbs by licking them
(Tabor). There is a stained-glass icon of Cuthbert in York Minster from the
late Middle Ages, as well as paintings on the backs of the stalls at Carlisle
cathedral (Farmer).
The shrine of Saint
Cuthbert is at Durham, but he is also venerated at Ripon and Melrose. His feast
is still kept at Meath, Saint Andrews, and the northern dioceses of England
(Attwater2). He is the patron of shepherds and seafarers, and invoked against
the plague (Roeder). His patronage of sailors was the result of his appearance
in the midst of violent storms at sea, wearing his mitre, as late as the 12th
century. He is said to have used his crozier sometimes as an oar and at other
times as a helm to save the struggling sailors from shipwreck. He is also said
to have appeared to King Alfred, the conquering Canute the Dane, William the
Conqueror, and others at critical moments. Thus, until the time of Henry VIII,
soldiers marched under a sacred standard containing the corporal Cuthbert had
used at Mass (D'Arcy).
SOURCE : http://www.saintpatrickdc.org/ss/0320.shtml
Frontispiece of Bede's Life of St Cuthbert, showing King Æthelstan (924–939) presenting a copy of the book to the saint himself. 29.2 x 20. Originally from MS 183, f.1v at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. circa 930. The National Portrait Gallery History of the Kings and Queens of England by David Williamson, 1998
Golden Legend – Saint
Cuthbert
Article
Here next followeth the
Life of Saint Cuthbert of Durham.
Saint Cuthbert was born
in England, and when he was eight years old our Lord showed for him a fair
miracle for to draw him to his love. For on a time, as he played at the ball
with other children, suddenly there stood among them a fair young child of the
age of three years, which was the fairest creature that ever they beheld, and
anon he said to Cuthbert: Good brother, use no such vain plays, ne set not thy
heart on them. But for all that Cuthbert took none heed to his words, and then
this child fell down and made great heaviness, wept sore and wrung his hands,
and then Cuthbert and the other children left their play and comforted him, and
demanded of him why he made such sorrow. Then the child said to Cuthbert: All
mine heaviness is only for thee, because thou usest such vain plays, for our
Lord hath chosen thee to be an head of holy church; and then suddenly he
vanished away. And then he knew verily that it was an angel sent from our Lord
to him, and from then forthon he left all such vain plays and never used them
more, and began to live holily. And then he desired of his father that he might
be set to school, and anon he drew him to perfect living, for he was ever in
his prayers, night and day, and most desired of our Lord to do that which might
please him and eschew that should displease him. And he lived so virtuously and
holily, that all the people had joy of him, and within a while after, Aidanus
the bishop died. And as Cuthbert kept sheep in the field, looked upward and saw
angels bear the soul Aidanus the bishop to heaven with great melody. And after
that Saint Cuthhert would no more keep sheep but went anon to the abbey of
Jervaulx, and there he was a monk, of whom all the convert were right glad, and
thanked our Lord that had sent him thither. For he lived there full holily, in
fasting and great penance doing. And at last he had the gout in his knees,
which he had taken of cold in kneeling upon the cold stones when he said his
prayers, in such wise that his knees began to swell and the sinews of his leg
were shrunk that he might neither go nor stretch out his leg, but ever he took
it full patiently and said: When it pleaseth our Lord it shall pass away.
And within a while after,
his brethren for to do him comfort bare him into the field, and there they met
with a knight which said: Let me see and handle this Cuthbert’s leg; and then
when he had felt it with his hands, he bade them take the milk of a cow of one
colour, and the juice of small plantain, and fair wheat flour, and seethe them
all together, and make thereof a plaister and lay it thereto and it will make
him whole. And as soon as they had so done he was perfectly whole, and then he
thanked our Lord full meekly. And after, he knew by revelation that it was an
angel sent by our Lord to heal him of his great sickness and disease.
And the abbot of that
place sent him to a cell of theirs to be hosteler, for to receive their guests
and do them comfort, and soon after our Lord showed there a fair miracle for
his servant Saint Cuthbert, for angels came to him oft-times in likeness of
other guests, whom he received and served diligently with meat and drink and
other necessaries. On a time there came guests to him whom he received, and
went into the houses of office for to serve them, and when he came again they
were gone, and went after for to call and could not espy them, ne know the
steps of their feet, how well that it was then a snow; and when he returned he
found the table laid and thereon three fair white loaves of bread all hot which
were of marvellous beauty and sweetness, for all the place smelled of the sweet
odour of them. Then he knew well that the angels of our Lord had been there,
and rendered thankings to our Lord that he had sent to him his angels for to
comfort him.
And every night when his
brethren were abed he would go and stand in the cold water all naked up to the
chin till it were midnight, and then he would issue out, and when he came to
land he might not stand for feebleness and faintness, but oft fell down to the
ground. And on a time as he lay thus, there came two otters which licked every
place of his body, and then went again to the water that they came from. And
then Saint Cuthbert arose all whole and went to his cell again, and went to
matins with his brethren. But his brethren knew nothing of his standing thus
every night in the sea to the chin, but at the last one of his brethren espied
it and knew his doing, and told him thereof, but Saint Cuthbert charged him to
keep it secret and tell no man thereof during his life. And after this within a
while the bishop of Durham died, and Saint Cuthbert was elected and sacred
bishop in his stead after him, and ever after he lived full holily unto his
death, and, by his preaching and ensample giving, he brought much people to
good living. And tofore his death he left his bishopric and went into the holy
island, where he lived an holy and solitary life, unto that he being full of
virtues, rendered his soul unto Almighty God and was buried at Durham, and
after translated, and the body laid in a fair and honourable shrine, where as
yet daily our Lord showeth for his servant there many fair and great miracles.
Wherefore let us pray unto this holy saint that he pray for us.
SOURCE : https://catholicsaints.info/golden-legend-saint-cuthbert/
Statue
of St Cuthbert, at Lindisfarne Priory, Northumberland. The east end of the
priory church is visible beyond the statue.
.jpg)
Saints
of the Order of Saint Benedict – Saint Cuthbert, Bishop
At an early age Saint Cuthbert’s thoughts were turned
to religion by a vision, in which, while engaged in prayer in the night-time,
he saw Saint Aidan’s soul surrounded by a brilliant light, entering Heaven at
the very moment that Saint died. This vision made Saint
Cuthbert betake himself to the Monastery of Melrose, which at that time was
governed by Saint Eatta. The young novice was so pious, so strict an observer
of the Rule, and so courteous and pleasing in manner, that, six years after his
profession, he was entrusted with the duties of guest-master. On one occasion,
when proceeding early in the morning to the guest-house to attend to the duties
of his office, he found in front of the door a young man, who seemed exhausted
from exposure to the weather and from want of food. The guest-master, pitying
the stranger’s condition, took him indoors, washed and warmed his feet, and
bade him wait till he prepared and brought him some food. When the Saint
returned, he was amazed to find the stranger gone. On the table lay two loaves
of surpassing whiteness, which gave forth a delicious perfume, and showed that
the Saint had entertained an angel unawares. This was not the only occasion on
which Saint Cuthbert enjoyed the converse of angels; often was he honoured by
receiving his food from their hands.
It was Saint Cuthbert’s
custom, when on a journey, to pass the night in prayer, and unknown to his
travelling-companions, to slip out to a church, or to wherever the fervour of
his devotion carried him. Once his companions missed him, and curious to know
what Cuthbert was doing out of doors at that hour of the night, they followed
him, and found him praying, immersed to his neck in the sea. By his holy life,
and by preaching the Gospel to the rude inhabitants of the mountainous
districts, Saint Cuthbert won them over from their superstitious and idolatrous
practices, and gained such an influence over them that they confided to him the
secrets of their inmost hearts. They were afraid to conceal from him whatever
sins they had committed.
On the death of Boisil
the Prior, Cuthbert was chosen in his place. The new Prior inspired his
disciples with a zealous desire to emulate his virtues. Many miracles too were
wrought by him, such as the driving out of devils, and the extinguishing of
sudden outbursts of fire. It is said that, when he was worn out by want of food
on one of his journeys, some fish was brought to him by an eagle.
By the command of Eatta,
Cuthbert was summoned to Lindisfarne to reform the monks of that abbey, who had
become somewhat lax. This he soon effected by his patience, by his persuasiveness,
and above all, by his example. When he had succeeded in this task, he, at his
urgent request, was allowed by Eatta to retire to the Island of Farn, to lead
the solitary life. There for years he subjected himself to the most severe
penances, and every day brought himself nearer and nearer to God. By sending
her his girdle to wear, he was enabled to cure the Abbess Elfleda, a lady of
royal birth, when all hope of saving her life was abandoned by the physicians.
He also foretold the death of King Egfrith in the battle against the Picts, the
plague that soon after devastated England, and his own departure from his
hermitage to the Cathedral of Lindisfarne.
Many letters and
messengers had been sent by the Synod of Bishops and by King Egfrith to summon
Cuthbert to undertake the charge of this See, but the Saint’s humility shrank
from the honour; at last Egfrith himself sailed to Farn and compelled Cuthbert
to accompany him to the Synod at York, where he was consecrated.
In this high office Saint
Cuthbert preached and laboured for two years, never relaxing the strict
discipline of his former life. Finding his strength failing, he retired to his
old retreat of Farn to prepare for death. There two months later he breathed
his last, on the 20th March, A.D. 687.
When Saint Cuthbert’s
body was dug up, four hundred and eleven years after his death, it was found
quite free from any signs of corruption. It was again found whole and incorrupt
in 1537 by the men who were sent by Henry VIII to destroy the shrine and to
scatter the relics of the Saint.
– text and illustration
taken from Saints
of the Order of Saint Benedict by Father Aegedius
Ranbeck, O.S.B.
SOURCE : https://catholicsaints.info/saints-of-the-order-of-saint-benedict-saint-cuthbert-bishop/
Ernest
Ange Duez, Saint Cuthbert, 1879,
huile
sur toile, partie centrale du triptyque. 334 x 134, Paris, Musée d’Orsay
March 20
St. Cuthbert, Bishop of
Lindisfarne, Confessor
From his life written by
Bede, and from that author’s Church History, b. 4. c. 27 to c. 32. Simeon
Dunelm, or rather Turgot, Hist. Dunelm. published by Bedford: the old Latin
hymn on St. Cuthbert. MS. in Bibl. Cotton. n. 41. apud Wanley, p. 184. and four
Latin prayers, in honour of St. Cuthbert, MS. n. 190. in the library of Durham
Church. Warnly, Catal. t. 2. p. 297. Harpsfield, sæc. 7. c. 34. Hearne on
Langtoft, t. 2. p. 687. N. B. The history of Durham, which is here quoted, was
compiled by Turgot, prior of Durham, down to the year 1104, and continued to
the year 1161 by Simeon.
A.D. 687
WHEN the Northumbrians, under the pious King Oswald, had, with great fervour,
embraced the Christian faith, the holy bishop St. Aidan founded two
monasteries, that of Mailros, on the bank of the Tweed and another in the isle
of Lindisfarne, afterwards called Holy Island, four miles distant from Berwick.
In both he established the rule of St. Columba; and usually resided himself in
the latter. St. Cuthbert 1 was
born not very far from Mailros, and in his youth was much edified by the devout
deportment of the holy inhabitants of that house, whose fervour in the service
of God, and the discharge of the duties of a monastic life, he piously
endeavoured to imitate on the mountains where he kept his father’s sheep. It
happened one night that, whilst he was watching in prayer, near his flock,
according to his custom, he saw the soul of St. Aidan carried up to heaven by
angels, at the very instant that holy man departed this life in the isle of
Lindisfarne. Serious reflections on the happiness of such a death determined
the pious young man to repair, without delay, to Mailros, where he put on the
monastic habit, whilst Eata was abbot, and St. Boisil prior. He studied the
holy scriptures under the latter, and in fervour surpassed all his brethren in
every monastic exercise. Eata being called to govern the new monastery of
Rippon, founded by King Alcfrid, he took with him St. Cuthbert, and committed
to him the care of entertaining strangers; which charge is usually the most
dangerous in a religious state. Cuthbert washed the feet of others, and served
them with wonderful humility and meekness, always remembering that Christ
himself is served in his members. And he was most careful that the functions of
Martha should never impair his spirit of recollection. When St. Wilfrid was
made abbot of Rippon, St. Cuthbert returned with Eata to Mailross; and St.
Boisil dying of the great pestilence, in 664, he was chosen provost or prior in
his place.
In this station, not content by word and example to form his monks
to perfect piety, he laboured assiduously among the people to bring them off
from several heathenish customs and superstitious practices which still
remained among them. For this purpose, says our venerable historian, he often
went out sometimes on horseback, but oftener on foot, to preach the way of life
to such as were gone astray. Parochial churches being at this time very scarce
in the country, it was the custom for the country people to flock about a
priest or ecclesiastical person, when he came into any village, for the sake of
his instructions; hearkening willingly to his words, and more willingly
practising the good lessons he taught them. St. Cuthbert excelled all others by
a most persuasive and moving eloquence; and such a brightness appeared in his
angelical face in delivering the word of God to the people, that none of them
durst conceal from him any part of their misbehaviour, but all laid their
conscience open before him, and endeavoured by his injunctions and counsels to
expiate the sins they had confessed, by worthy fruits of penance. He chiefly
visited those villages and hamlets at a distance, which, being situate among
high and craggy mountains, and inhabited by the most rustic, ignorant, and
savage people, were the less frequented by other teachers. After St. Cuthbert
had lived many years at Mailros, St. Eata, abbot also of Lindisfarne, removed
him thither, and appointed him prior of that larger monastery. By the perfect
habit of mortification and prayer the saint had attained to so eminent a spirit
of contemplation, that he seemed rather an angel than a man. He often spent
whole nights in prayer, and sometimes, to resist sleep, worked or walked about
the island whilst he prayed. If he heard others complain that they had been
disturbed in their sleep, he used to say, that he should think himself obliged
to any one that awaked him out of his sleep, that he might sing the praises of
his Creator, and labour for his honour. His very countenance excited those who
saw him to a love of virtue. He was so much addicted to compunction and
inflamed with heavenly desires, that he could never say mass without tears. He
often moved penitents, who confessed to him their sins, to abundant tears, by
the torrents of his own, which he shed for them. His zeal in correcting sinners
was always sweetened with tender charity and meekness. The saint had governed
the monastery of Lindisfarne, under his abbot, several years, when earnestly
aspiring to a closer union with God, he retired, with his abbot’s consent, into
the little isle of Farne, nine miles from Lindisfarne, there to lead an austere
eremitical life. The place was then uninhabited, and afforded him neither
water, tree nor corn. Cuthbert built himself a hut with a wall and trench about
it, and, by his prayers, obtained a well of fresh water in his own cell. Having
brought with him instruments of husbandry, he sowed first wheat, which failed;
then barley, which, though sowed out of season, yielded a plentiful crop. He
built a house at the entry of the island from Lindisfarne, to lodge the
brethren who came to see him, whom he there met and entertained with heavenly
conferences. Afterwards he confined himself within his own wall and trench, and
gave spiritual advice only through a window, without ever stirring out of his
cell. He could not however, refuse an interview with the holy abbess and royal
virgin Elfleda, whom her father King Oswi, had dedicated to God from her birth,
and who in 680, succeeded St. Hilda in the government of the abbey of Whitby.
This was held in the isle of Cocket, then filled with holy anchorets. This
close solitude was to our saint an uninterrupted exercise of divine love,
praise, and compunction; in which he enjoyed a paradise of heavenly delights,
unknown to the world.
In a synod of bishops, held by St. Theodorus at Twiford, on the river Alne, in
the kingdom of Northumberland, it was resolved, that Cuthbert should be raised
to the episcopal see of Lindisfarne. But as neither letters, nor messengers,
were of force to obtain his consent to undertake the charge, King Egfrid, who
had been present at the council, and the holy bishop Trumwin, with many others,
sailed over to his island, and conjured him, on their knees, not to refuse his
labours, which might be attended with so much advantage to souls. Their
remonstrances were so pressing, that the saint could not refuse going with
them, at least to the council, but weeping most bitterly. He received the episcopal
consecration at York, the Easter following, from the hands of St. Theodorus,
assisted by six other bishops. In this new dignity the saint continued the
practice of his former austerities; but remembering what he owed to his
neighbour, he went about preaching and instructing with incredible fruit, and
without any intermission. He made it every where his particular care to exhort,
feed, and protect the poor. By divine revelation he saw and mentioned to
others, at the very instant it happened, the overthrow and death of King
Egfrid, by the Picts, in 685. He cured, by water which he had blessed the wife
of a noble Thane, who lay speechless and senseless at the point of death, and
many others. For his miracles he was called the Thaumathurgus of Britain. But the
most wonderful of his miracles was that which grace wrought in him by the
perfect victory which it gave him over his passions. His zeal for justice was
most ardent; but nothing seemed ever to disturb the peace and serenity of his
mind. By the close union of his soul with God, whose will alone he sought and
considered in all things, he overlooked all temporal events, and under all
accidents his countenance was always cheerful, always the same: particularly in
bearing all bodily pains, and every kind of adversity with joy, he was
invincible. His attention to, and pure view of God in all events, and in all
his actions arose from the most tender and sweet love, which was in his soul a
constant source of overflowing joy. Prayer was his centre. His brethren discovered
sometimes that he spent three or four nights together in that heavenly
exercise, allowing himself very little or no sleep. When St. Ebba, the royal
virgin, sister to the kings St. Oswald and Oswi, abbess of the double monastery
of Coldingham, invited him to edify that house by his exortations, he complied,
and staid there some days. In the night, whilst others were asleep, he stole
out to his devotions according to his custom in other places. One of the monks
who watched and followed him one night, found that the saint, going down to the
sea-shore, went into the water up to the arm-pits, and there sung praises to
God. In this manner he passed the silent time of the night. Before the break of
day he came out, and having prayed awhile on the sands, returned to the
monastery, and was ready to join in morning lauds.
St. Cuthbert, foreseeing his death to approach, resigned his bishopric, which
he had held two years, and retired to his solitude in Farne Island, to prepare
himself for his last passage. Two months after he fell sick, and permitted
Herefrid, the abbot of Lindisfarne, who came to visit him, to leave two of his
monks to attend him in his last moments. He received the viaticum of the body
and blood of Christ from the hands of the abbot Herefrid, at the hour of
midnight prayer, and immediately lifting up his eyes, and stretching out his
hands, sweetly slept in Christ on the 20th day of March, 687. He died in the
island of Farne: but, according to his desire, his body was buried in the
monastery of Saint Peter in Lindisfarne, on the right side of the high altar.
Bede relates many miracles performed at his tomb; and adds, that eleven years
after his death, the monks taking up his body, instead of dust which they
expected, found it unputrified, with the joints pliable, and the clothes fresh
and entire. 2 They
put it into a new coffin, placed above the pavement, over the former grave: and
several miracles were there wrought, even by touching the clothes which covered
the coffin. William of Malmesbury 3 writes,
that the body was again found incorrupt four hundred and fifteen years
afterwards at Durham, and publicly shown. In the Danish invasions, the monks
carried it away from Lindisfarne; and after several removals on the continent,
settled with their treasure on a woody hill almost surrounded by the river
Were, formed by nature for a place of defence. They built there a church of stone,
which Aldhune, bishop of Lindisfarne, dedicated in 995, and placed in it the
body of St. Cuthbert with great solemnity, transferring hither his episcopal
see. 4 Many
princes enriched exceedingly the new monastery and cathedral, in honour of St.
Cuthbert. Succeeding kings, out of devotion to this saint, declared the bishop
a count palatine, with an extensive civil jurisdiction. 5 The
great king Alfred, who honoured St. Cuthbert as his particular patron, and
ascribed to his intercession some of his greatest victories, and other
blessings which he received, was a special benefactor to this church. 6 The
present cathedral was built in 1080. When the shrine of the saint was plundered
and demolished by the order of King Henry VIII. the body of St. Cuthbert, which
was found still entire, as Harpsfield testifies, met with greater regard than
many others; for it was not burned, as were those of St. Edmund, king and
martyr, St. Thomas, and others. After the king’s officers had carried away the
plunder of his shrine, it was privately buried under the place where the shrine
before stood, though the spot is now unknown. His ring, in which a sapphire is
enchased, was given by Lord Viscount Montaigne to the bishop of Chalcedon, 7 who
had long been sheltered from the persecution in the house of that nobleman, 8 and
was by him left in the monastery of English canonesses at Paris, which is also
possessed of a tooth of St. Cuthbert. A copy of St. John’s gospel, which, after
the example of his master St. Boisil, he often read to nourish the fire of
divine love in his soul, was put into his coffin when he was buried, and found
in his tomb. It is now in the possession of Mr. Thomas Philips, canon of
Tongres, on whom the present earl of Litchfield bestowed it. The copy is judged
undoubtedly genuine by our ablest Protestant antiquaries, who carefully examined
it.
The life of St. Cuthbert was almost a continual prayer. There was no business,
no company, no place, how public soever, which did not afford him an
opportunity, and even a fresh motive to pray. Not content to pass the day in
this exercise, he continued it constantly for several hours of the night, which
was to him a time of light and interior delights. Whatever he saw seemed to
speak to him of God, and to invite him to his love. His conversation was on God
or heavenly things, and he would have regretted a single moment, which had not
been employed with God or for his honour, as utterly lost. The inestimable
riches which he found in God, showed him how precious every moment is, in which
he had it in his power to enjoy the divine converse. The immensity of God, who
is present in us and in all creatures, and whom millions of worlds cannot
confine or contain; his eternity, to which all time coexists, and which has
neither beginning, end, nor succession; the unfathomed abyss of his judgments;
the sweetness of his providence; his adorable sanctity; his justice, wisdom,
goodness, mercy, and love, especially as displayed in the wonderful mystery of
the Incarnation, and in the doctrine, actions, and sufferings, of our Blessed
Redeemer; in a word, all the incomprehensible attributes of the Divinity, and
the mysteries of his grace and mercy, successively filled his mind and heart,
and kindled in his soul the most sweet and ardent affections in which his
thirst and his delight, which were always fresh and always insatiable, gave him
a kind of anticipated taste of paradise. For holy contemplation discovers to a
soul a new most wonderful world, whose beauty, riches, and pure delights
astonish and transport her out of herself. St. Teresa, coming from prayer, said
she came from a world greater and more beautiful beyond comparison, than a
thousand worlds, like that which we behold with our corporal eyes, could be.
St. Bernard was always torn from this holy exercise with regret, when obliged
to converse with men in the world, in which he trembled, lest he should
contract some attachment to creatures, which would separate him from the chaste
embraces of his heavenly spouse. The venerable priest, John of Avila, when he
came from the altar, always found commerce with men insipid and insupportable.
Note 1. Cuthbert signifies Illustrious for skill: or Guthbertus, Worthy of
God. [back]
Note 2. Bede, Hist. b. 4. c. 30. [back]
Note 3. L. 4. Pontif. Angl. [back]
Note 4. Dunelm, or Durham, signifies a hill upon waters, from the Saxon
words Dun, a hill, and Holme, a place situate in or among the waters. [back]
Note 5. See Dugdale’s history of the cathedral of Durham; and Dr. Brown
Willis on the same. [back]
Note 6. See Hickes, Thes. Ling. Septentr. Præf. p. 8. [back]
Note 7. Bp. Smith, Flores Hist. Eccles. p. 120. [back]
Note 8. Dr. Richard Smith, bishop of Chalcedon, relates in his life of
Margaret Lady Montaigne, that Queen Elizabeth, out of her singular regard for
this lady, from the time she had been lady of honour in the court of Queen Mary
and King Philip, tacitly granted her house a kind of privilege, by never
allowing it to be searched on account of religious persecution; so that
sometimes sixty priests at once lay hidden in it. [back]
Rev. Alban Butler (1711–73). Volume III: March. The Lives
of the Saints. 1866.
SOURCE : http://www.bartleby.com/210/3/201.html
A
stained glass window depicting Saint Cuthbert inside of Saint Martin’s parish
church located within the village of Overstrand,
Norfolk, United Kingdom.
Apostle
of Northumbria, by Leonora Blanche Lang
In the middle of the seventh century after Christ, the
island of Britain was a very different place from what it is now, and great
tracts of land which are at present covered in the summer with corn, or rich
grass, were then wide lakes; cities lying on the East Coast, which were at that
time rich and prosperous, have for hundreds of years been buried under the
waves, and dark forests, sheltering wolves and other fierce beasts, covered the
moors of the north, in these days dotted over with villages. Still,
there were plenty of fields and meadows for the children to play in, and the
games of children are always much the same.
A number of little boys
were gathered on the banks of one of the rivers in the country south of the
Tweed, which we now call Northumberland, but was then part of the kingdom of
Northumbria. They were of all ages, from three to ten, and were chattering fast
and eagerly, apparently settling some races to be run, and choosing the ground
where they might try who could throw a ball the farthest. By and bye, when
everything was arranged, each boy went to his place. The two who were judges
sat on a rock which was to be the winning-post; the two who were to see that
the winners started fairly were at the other end of the course; and the
competitors themselves were drawn up in a line.
Now, cried the starter,
and off they went, heads well up and their feet lifted.
Cuthbert, Cuthbert! was
the cry as one of the smallest boys shot ahead of the rest, and sank panting on
the rock which was the winning-post.
It is always Cuthbert,
muttered one of the beaten runners, and he was right; it always was, both in
racing and in climbing trees, and in wrestling, where the child s quickness of
eye and hand made up for his lack of strength. He loved all such things, and,
after a morning spent by the river side, would go home proud and happy to his
mother, and tell her of his victories, and how very, very nearly one boy had
caught him up, and another had almost succeeded in throwing him.
But Cuthbert’s pleasures
were not to last long. He was only eight when a tiny creature not half his age,
who had watched the races solemnly from a little hillock, came up to Cuthbert,
and, pulling him aside from the other boys as they were planning a new game,
begged him not to waste his time in such idle play, but give heed to the things
of the mind. Cuthbert stared, as well he might, and paid no attention to him.
Let us try how many of us
can bend ourselves backward, till we can kiss the trunk of that tree, he said,
running off to his friends; and after that we can see if we can hold one leg
out stiffly, and bend the other till the stiff leg almost touches the ground.
It is easy enough to go down, but the difficulty is to get up again without
tumbling over. My father can do it; he showed me yesterday. And, forthwith,
they all began to practice, with much laughter and many falls, while the
solemn-eyed boy looked on disapprovingly.
Suddenly a loud cry made
them stop and turn round; the child had flung himself down on the ground and
was sobbing bitterly. The others did not trouble about him. Babies like that
were better at home, they said; but Cuthbert, who always tried to help anyone
younger or weaker than himself, ran up to the little fellow and asked him what
was the matter.
It is you? gasped the boy
as soon as he could speak. The rest may do as they like, but the Lord has
chosen you to be His servant the teacher of others and you will not listen!
Cuthbert did not answer.
It seemed so strange that such words should come from so small a creature, too
young to run or jump, or to play a game of any kind. How could he have got such
notions into his head? Yet there was no doubt that he was very unhappy. So
Cuthbert stooped down and whispered:
Well, don’t cry. At any
rate, I won’t play any more to- day, and he patted the child’s head, and walked
slowly away, in spite of the shouts of his friends to come back and join them.
This was really the end
of Cuthbert’s childhood. From the day that the little boy had spoken to him he
put off childish things, and was as thoughtful and serious as a man. But no one
can tell us how he actually spent those years, and when next we hear of him he
was grown up.
All his life Cuthbert
loved walking, and would go for miles across the mountain or along the
seashore, visiting the dwellers in the scattered huts, and preaching to them.
It was, therefore, a terrible trial to him when at length a large lump formed
itself on his knee so that he was unable to bend the joint, and was continually
in pain. For some time he still dragged himself about, but of course this only
made his leg worse, and soon the pain grew so bad that he was obliged to be
carried. At this period he appears to have been living in some sort of a monastery,
which had servants or porters to help with the work.
The air of the small, close cells was hateful to
Cuthbert, and every day some of the servants took him in their arms, and laid
him down under a tree on the edge of the forest. One morning he was
set in his usual place, from which he could see far away to the south, and
watch the clouds casting shadows over the hills and the moors. As he was gazing
before him, trying to forget the pain he suffered, he beheld a man dressed in
white, mounted on a white horse, riding towards him. When the rider drew near,
he stopped, and, as Cuthbert did not rise in greeting, he asked with a smile
whether he would not welcome him as a guest.
Yes, indeed, answered
Cuthbert; right welcome you are to me and to all of us, but I cannot rise to
greet you as I fain would do with all civility, for I am bound and tied by a
swelling in my knee, and though I have been examined by many a physician, not
one has been able to heal me.
I have some skill in such
matters, said the man, dismounting from his horse. Let me look at it, I pray
you, and taking Cuthbert’s knee between his hands he put some questions to him.
If you will do as I bid
you, you will soon be cured, he said at last. Boil some wheaten flour in milk,
and spread it on a cloth; and while it is hot lay it on the swelling, and in a
short time the swelling will disappear and the pain depart, and your leg will
be whole again. And now farewell. With that he mounted his horse and rode away
over the hills, and Cuthbert was persuaded that an angel had visited him.
Now there was a monastery
on the south side of the river Tyne, and it was the custom of the monks to send
out flat boats or rafts to bring timber from some of the forests near the sea
for their daily use. It happened that on one occasion the little fleet had
returned with its cargo and was just about to unload opposite the monastery,
when a westerly gale sprang up, and it was blown out towards the ocean. The
monks beholding this disaster ran out of the monastery to the river bank, and
launched some boats to help the fast disappearing rafts, but the boats were
blown out to sea before they could get on board them. Then they fell on their
knees and prayed amidst the mocking of the crowd assembled on the other bank, who
taunted them with thinking themselves holier than their neighbours. But
Cuthbert, who stood among these people, checked their evil words, and asked
them if they had no pity for those who were drifting to their death, and called
on them to pray also.
Let no one pray for them,
answered the mockers, for they have taken away our old worship, and given us
that which is strange to us.
On hearing this, Cuthbert
bowed himself on the ground and prayed for the lives of the men in peril. And
as he prayed the wind changed, and the rafts and the boats were blown up the
river again; and when they saw this, a silence fell upon the unbelievers, and
they were converted.
As time went by, Cuthbert
made up his mind that he would lay aside the layman’s dress and spear which he
still used, and live altogether in a monastery, whereas before he had only
dwelt in one for a short while, to rest from his journeys. His days were spent
in going hither and thither, and often he would help any who needed it with his
work, sometimes keeping sheep with the shepherds, sometimes sowing wheat with
the plough men, or aiding the reapers to gather in the harvest.
One cold winter’s day, he
was riding alone to preach at a small village some distance off, when his horse
began to hang his head and to show signs of weariness, for they had already
come many miles. Cuthbert looked about for a place in which the beast could
find food and rest, and perceived a farmhouse a little way off. Here he was
gladly welcomed, and, after leading his horse to the stable, he entered and sat
by the fire. But he would not eat, though the farmer’s wife pressed him, for it
was the rule of the Church to fast that day until the evening. In vain the
woman told him, that if he would not eat now he would be likely to fast until the
morrow, as the country was desolate and bare of houses; but he would not listen
to her, and when towards sunset his horse was rested, he took leave of her and
rode on.
It was growing dark, and
nothing was to be seen but a wild waste of moor, and Cuthbert was wondering
whether he and his horse would not have to pass the night under some sheltering
rock, when he noticed a little to the right a group of half-ruined huts, once
inhabited by shepherds.
Here we can rest well, he
said to himself, and dis mounting, he fastened his horse to a wall, and gave
him some hay which the wind had blown thither. But the horse had come far and
was hungry, and the hay was not enough to satisfy him, so when he had finished
it, he pulled some of the straw from the thatched roof, and as it fell, a linen
cloth folded up fell with it. Cuthbert, who was singing the day’s Psalms, heard
the noise made by the horse and turned round, and when his prayers were ended
he went to see what was in the cloth, as it was a strange place for it to come
from. Little he guessed that he should find wrapped up half a loaf of hot bread
and some meat, and when he beheld them, he suddenly felt – that he, as well as
the horse, was exhausted for lack of food; and after this miracle had happened
to him, he was even more ready than before to fast on the days appointed.
Some time later Cuthbert
journeyed to the Abbey of Melrose, for, as has been told, he wished to leave
the world and to be received into the priesthood by the man whom all held to be
the holiest in the kingdom of Northumbria, Boisil the Abbot, after whom the
town of Saint Boswell’s was afterwards called. He stayed at Melrose for some
years, going for a short while with Eata, who was made Abbot on the death of
Boisil, to the new Abbey at Ripon, but right glad was he to return to Melrose
and the country that he loved. Still, it would be a mistake to think of him as
shut up between walls, and doing nothing but pray. He kept up his old custom of
visiting the scattered houses and villages, and preaching to the people, many
of them yet pagans at heart, and he would be absent from Melrose for days or
even weeks together.
It happened one day that
he received a message from the Abbess of Coldingham in Berwickshire, entreating
him to come down and give some teaching to herself and her nuns. Cuthbert lost
no time in setting out, for the ride was a long one, and he bade the Abbot of
Melrose not be surprised if his return was delayed for many days. After his
arrival at Coldingham he walked, while it was light, to the fishers huts
gathered on the shore; and in the night, when the nuns slept, it was his habit
to steal down to the sea and to sit on the rocks, when he prayed silently for
hours.
Late one dark evening,
when all was quiet, he went out as usual and took the path down to the cliffs,
followed, though he knew it not, by a monk, curious to find out whither he was
going. Right to the edge of the water Cuthbert went, the monk keeping in the
shadow behind him; but what was the man’s surprise when he saw the saint enter
the sea and walk forward till it reached up to his neck. Thus he remained till
dawn, chanting aloud the praise of God. With the first streaks of light he sank
on his knees on the sand, for the tide was ebbing fast, and two seals swam
towards him from a rock, and breathed over his cold feet to warm them, and
rubbed them dry with their hair; and Cuthbert stroked their heads, and thanked
them and blessed them, and they lay on the sands in the sun’s rays, till the
tide rose again and they returned to the island where they dwelt.
When the monk saw these
things he was filled with shame at having thought evil of so holy a man, to
whom the very beasts offered service. Indeed, so great was his penitence that
his legs shook with grief, and they could scarcely carry him home to the
monastery. After morning prayer he hastened to Cuthbert and besought pardon for
what he had done, never doubting but that it had been revealed to him already.
But in that he found he was mistaken, for the saint, beholding his distress,
said gently:
What is it, my brother?
What is the ill-deed that you repent of? Is it that you spied upon me last
night when I prayed upon the seashore? Be comforted, for you have my
forgiveness, only see you tell no man that which you saw, for I would not be
thought holier than I am. So the monk promised, and departed homewards, after
Cuthbert had blessed him.
The years were going by
fast and Cuthbert was no longer as strong as he had been in his youth, and his
long walks tired him. But still he would not let another monk take his place,
for the people loved him and looked for his coming.
On an autumn morning he
left the monastery to visit a distant spot, taking with him a boy as his
companion, and after walking many miles they sat down to rest, for the way had
been steep and rough. The village is still far off, said Cuthbert; tell me if
there is any house on the road where they will give us food, for you are of the
country, whereas this part is strange to me. Yet, though he spoke thus to his
companion, he himself knew what would happen.
I was wondering as to
that also, answered the boy, for I know not a single hut near our path, and we
have brought no food with us. Yet if we eat nothing we shall faint from hunger.
Fear not, but trust in
God, replied Cuthbert. Behold that eagle flying through the sky above us. It is
she that will feed us, so let us continue our journey with a good heart. The
boy’s face brightened as he listened, and he jumped up eagerly, and with light
feet went by the saint’s side along the road till they came to a river.
Look! said Cuthbert, standing still, and pointing to a
rock at a little distance. Do you see where our handmaid the
eagle is sitting? Run I pray and search, and bring back quickly whatsoever the
Lord may have sent us. And the boy ran and brought back a salmon, which the
eagle had caught and laid on the bank. Now the salmon was so large the boy
could scarcely carry it.
Why have you not given
our handmaid her share, my son? asked the saint as the boy staggered towards
him. Cut it quickly in two and give her the half which she deserves. Then the
boy did as he was bid, and they took the other half with them till they beheld
a cottage, where they entered; and the woman of the cottage cooked the fish for
them, and there was enough for them all, and to spare.
Opposite the coast of
Northumberland there is a small island, called Lindisfarne, or Holy Island,
which you can reach on foot when the tide is out. It was to this place that
Cuthbert was sent in 664 to teach the brethren afresh the rules of the Church
and of the holy life, for they had grown careless, and each followed his own
will. It was hard work, for not only did he instruct the monks of Lindisfarne
and the poor, and those who took advantage of their riches and strength to
oppress them, but he visited the sick people as he had done from his boyhood,
and was as strict as he had ever been in fasting and in denying himself all
that was not absolutely needed. At first the monks of Lindisfarne declined to
obey the new rules of discipline which Cuthbert introduced, and followed the
old ones, if they followed any at all, but he was much too wise to quarrel over
it. When he saw that they were in a bad temper and likely to be troublesome, he
would quietly break up the meeting without taking any notice of their
ill-behaviour, and at the next assembly began the same discussion and repeated
the same things, just as if he had never said them before. In the end this
method, and still more his example, gained his point. The monks ceased to be
angry if anyone woke them from their sleep at night, or roused them from their
rest at midday, and as Cuthbert’s dress was woven of the natural colour of the
sheep’s wool, by and bye the brethren were content to lay aside their brighter
gowns, and wear it also.
As time went on, Cuthbert
grew more and more anxious to lay down the burden which he found so heavy, and
devote a few of the years that remained to him to thinking about his soul. With
the consent of the Abbot he had chosen one of a group of seventeen small
islands, which lay to the south, as the place of his retirement, and when the
monks left him on the little beach he was perfectly happy happier perhaps than
he had ever been before. For one thing he was alone. His only companions were
the multitudes of wild birds which built their nests in the island rocks. He
knew he must not run the risk of making himself ill by sleeping out under the
sky as he had often done in his youth, so he began at once to scoop out from
the ground a little cell with two rooms in it one an oratory, the other a
living room. This he thatched with straw, and surrounded it with walls of loose
stones, which he brought up from the beach. Down by the shore he afterwards
built a larger house, so that the monks who came over from Lindisfarne to see
him might have somewhere to sleep if a sudden storm prevented their getting
back to the monastery.
For a short time after he
first took up his abode in Fame Island, he had no bread save what the monks
brought to him in a boat, but soon he began to feel that he ought not to put
them to that trouble, so he begged them instead to give him some tools and some
seed of wheat, that he might get bread for himself. It was spring when he sowed
the wheat, but it never came up, and he thought that the soil did not suit it.
Bring me, I pray you,
some seed of barley, he said to the brethren when they next paid him a visit,
and the barley when sown sprang up apace, and soon its ears waved in the wind,
and the birds beheld it, and came in flocks to eat it. But Cuthbert was angry
that his toil should be wasted, and he spoke in wrath to the birds: Begone, you
thieves! What do you here? Do you think to reap that which you have not sown?
Begone, I say, and the birds departed with a great flutter of wings, as hastily
as the asses did from Saint Anthony’s garden.
No more feathered robbers
were seen trying to steal Saint Cuthbert’s corn, but he was not to live in
peace for all that, for one day he perceived two crows who had settled on the
island pulling out bits of straw from the roof of the monks house, in order to
build a nest for themselves. Then Cuthbert was moved to anger at them also, and
forbade them to touch the roof, but, tliough they flew away for a moment, they
returned to their task as soon as they thought the saint had departed. This he
had expected, so was watching, and, finding the two crows busily employed as before,
he suddenly appeared before them, and commanded them in the name of the Lord to
cease spoiling his thatch and to go, which they did sorrowfully.
Three days after, when
Cuthbert was digging near the spring, one of the crows alighted on a stone
before him, and, spreading its wings, bowed its head twice to the ground,
uttering plaintive cries. Cuthbert at once understood that it was asking for
pardon, and answered:
O, bird, I forgive you
for your thievish tricks! Return if you will.
On hearing this the crow
flapped its wings joyfully and flew off, returning in a short time with its
mate, both carrying between them a large piece of fat, which they laid at his
feet in token of gratitude.
This fat the saint kept
to grease the leathern gaiters of the monks, his visitors.
It was in the year 684
that Cuthbert, much against his own wishes, was made Bishop of Lindisfarne;
but, when once he had accepted the office, he worked hard and faithfully for
his people. Many were the journeys that he took, and the holy men that he
visited, even travel ling as far as distant Derwentwater to take counsel with
Saint Herbert, the hermit, in his cell on one of the islands in the middle of
the lake. In that same year a plague was raging in Northumbria, and whole towns
and villages were left desolate. Some of the monks feared the infection, and
shrank away; but, whenever it was possibe, the Bishop was to be found at every
bedside praying, and comforting the sick and dying.
Men shook their heads as
they looked on his worn face, which yet was full of peace and joy; and when the
plague was over, the Bishop felt that his work was done, and he might now leave
it for someone else to carry on.
Yet a great deal remained
to be got through before he could resign his bishopric, and he must go round
the houses and monasteries of his diocese, to encourage his people to persevere
in holiness, and to see that all was set in order as far as he could do it.
It chanced that he was
summoned by the Abbess Elfleda to consecrate a church, lately built near her
monastery in Whitby, on the coast of Yorkshire. It was a long journey for a man
as weak as Cuthbert now was, but he did not hesitate, though he was very tired
by the time he arrived. There was a large gathering of monks from all the
neighbouring monasteries, eager to see the famous Bishop, and supper was spread
on the day of the consecration, in the big refectory; but, while speaking of
the condition of the Church in the North, and the number of monasteries which
had increased so greatly during his lifetime, Cuthbert’s knife dropped from his
hands, his tongue grew silent, while his face became pale and his eyes stared
before him. The company looked on in wonder; something, they felt, was taking
place which they did not understand, and at length a priest leaned forward and
said to the Abbess:
Ask the Bishop what he
has seen, for I know that not without cause do his hands tremble so that he can
not hold the knife. His eyes behold a vision which is hidden from us. The
Abbess touched the Bishop s sleeve and begged him to tell her why he had ceased
to eat; for, said she, of a truth something has happened to which Cuthbert
answered with a smile:
Do you think I can eat
for ever? It is time that my knife had a little rest! but she urged him all the
more. Then he said gravely:
I have seen the soul of a
holy man carried up to the Kingdom of Heaven.
From whence did he go?
asked she.
From your monastery.
But what is his name? she
inquired.
That you will tell me
tomorrow when I am celebrating Mass, answered he; but the Abbess, not satisfied
with this saying of the Bishop, sent over to the larger monastery to know if
anyone was dead.
Now, when the messenger
had reached this monastery, he found all in it alive and well; but as it was
late, they besought him to spend the night there, which he did. In the morning
he was returning to the abbey, when he met some men driving a cart containing
the dead body of a shepherd, who drove the Abbess’s sheep daily to find
pasture.
Who is that, and how did
he come by his death? said the messenger, and the men answered:
Hadwald is his name, and
he fell last night from the branch of a high tree, and we are taking him to his
burial.
When he heard that he
hastened to the Abbess; and she, overcome with amazement at the strange tale,
entered the church where the Bishop was performing service.
Remember in your prayers,
my lord Bishop, she cried, interrupting him, my servant Hadwald, who died
yesterday from a fall from a tree.
Thus was the Bishop’s
prophecy fulfilled, that during Mass she should tell him the name of the dead
man, which had not been revealed to him.
The moment had now come
when Cuthbert had finished his work, and could resign his office. A small ship
was ready to carry him over to Fame Island, and a crowd of monks and poor
people were gathered on the shore to bid him farewell.
Tell us, my lord Bishop,
said one, when you will return to us? The Bishop paused as he was about to
enter the boat, and, looking the man in the face, he answered:
When you shall bring my
body back to its burial. So he passed on, and came no more alive to
Lindisfarne.
During the first two
months of his stay on the Island of Fame he was well and content, rejoicing in
having no cares to distract his thoughts from the next world, which he was so
soon to enter. After that he suddenly fell ill, and when the Abbot of Lindisfarne
happened to visit him. he was shocked at the paleness of his face. But Cuthbert
made light of his sickness, so the Abbot did not understand that he was
stricken to death, and only asked for his blessing, as he might not delay,
having much business to do at Lindisfarne.
Do so, Cuthbert answered,
and return home in safety. But when the Lord shall have taken my spirit, bury
me in this house, near my oratory, towards the south, over against the eastern
side of the holy cross, which I have raised there; and know that there lies
under the turf, on the north of the oratory, a stone coffin, given me long ago
by Cudda, the Abbot. In the coffin is some linen woven by the Abbess Verca; in
that, wrap my body and place it in the coffin.
O father! cried Herfrid,
I cannot leave you ill and alone. Let some of the brethren remain, I beseech
you.
Not now, said Cuthbert;
but when God shall give you a sign, then come.
For five days a tempest
raged and the waves reared themselves high, and no boat dared put to sea; but
when at last Herfrid, the Abbot, contrived to reach the island, he found the
Bishop sitting in the monks house by the shore. Bidding the brethren sail back
to Lindisfarne, the Abbot himself stayed to tend him, and at Cuthbert’s own
wish a priest and sundry of the other monks returned in the morning, and were
with him when his soul departed to the Lord.
I will that I am buried
here, he said again, shortly before his death. But the monks would not have it
so, and with one accord begged that he would let them carry him over to
Lindisfarne, so that his body might lie amongst them.
Cuthbert did not answer
directly, but at length he spoke:
It was my wish to rest
here, where I have fought my little battles for the Lord, and whence I hoped to
arise and receive the crown of righteousness. And I think that for you, too, it
were better, for at Lindisfarne many evil-doers may fly from the mainland to my
tomb for refuge, and much trouble would you have with their lords. For, humble
though I am, I know full well that I have the name of a servant of Christ.
The words that he spoke
were wise, but the monks would not listen to him, and in the end he gave way to
their urging. Yet one more counsel he did give:
If you will really carry
me to Lindisfarne, then bury me inside the church, so that, though you can
visit my grave when you please, you can shut the doors, and prevent, when it
seems needful, others from doing so.
A great multitude awaited
the boat which bore the body of their Bishop back to Lindisfarne, and followed
it to the grave which had been dug by the altar of the Church of Saint Peter.
Since early morning they had known that he was no longer upon earth, for before
the sun rose they had beheld the light of two candles which one of the monks
had carried to the highest rock of the Island of Fame, and there kindled them,
as had been agreed, and all men read the tale they told and mourned deeply, as
if each had lost his father; for so indeed they felt. For eleven years
Cuthbert’s body was left at peace in the church, and then the monks asked the
consent of their Bishop to gather his bones and to place them in a high tomb
which they had built on the floor of the church itself. But when the coffin was
opened they fell on their knees, for the saint lay as if asleep, and the vestments
wherein they had wrapped him were fresh and unspotted. By command of the Bishop
the vestments were taken off and kept as relics, and new ones brought to clothe
him; and in this manner the body was laid in a chest, and placed in the tomb on
the pavement.
Nearly two hundred years
went by, and a horde of Danish pirates swooped down upon the northern coasts,
burning and murdering as they went. The monks at Lindisfarne had warning of
their coming and fled, carrying with them the body of Cuthbert and all his relics.
These they left for a time in Chester-le-Street, and as soon as that was no
longer safe conveyed them to Ripon, and finally to Durham, and in 1104
Cuthbert’s body was placed in the new cathedral, where it still lies. Simeon
the Chronicler assures us that, though more than four hundred years had gone by
since his death, the saint still bore the semblance of life.
Dead as well as alive
Cuthbert was strong to protect the weak, for, as he had foretold, there was a
right of sanctuary at his grave, till Henry the Eighth suppressed the
monasteries and did away with all such privileges, forgetful how his own mother
in her childhood had sought refuge in the sanctuary of Westminster. No doubt,
as the Bishop had said, many criminals did escape by reason of such places, but
on the whole they saved the lives of a multitude of helpless people in those
lawless times.
– text and illustrations
from The Book of Saints and Heroes,
by Leonora Blanche Lang, 1912
SOURCE : https://catholicsaints.info/the-apostle-of-northumbria-by-leonora-blanche-lang/
.JPG)
Stained
glass in St Cuthbert, Ackworth, West Yorkshire, England. The nave and chancel
were restored by John West Hugall in 1852-54. The 15th century tower remains.
Showing east window by William Wailes. This is the St Cuthbert panel.
In all the countryside there was no other boy so
strong and fearless as Cuthbert, the shepherd lad who dwelt amongst the hills
above the old town of Melrose.
It was in the time when
life was hard and rough, and there were but few comforts or luxuries even in the
houses of the rich. The children in those days early learned to brave many a
danger and suffer many a hardship, and so they grew up sturdy and strong of
limb, accustomed to an open-air life, little heeding the icy winds of winter or
the snow-storms that swept their southern border-lands of Scotland.
But among all these hardy
children of the hills there was none to compare with Cuthbert. In all their
games of skill or strength he easily won the foremost place. Whether it was
winter and they played at mimic warfare, with wonderful snow castles to be
stormed and good round snowballs for their ammunition, or whether it was summer
time and they ran and wrestled on the grassy slopes of the hillside, it was
Cuthbert who led the attack on the victorious side, Cuthbert who was champion
among the wrestlers and swiftest in the race. When others grew tired and cried
for a truce, Cuthbert was still fresh and eager, ready to urge them on, for he
never seemed to know what it meant to give in. And yet there were times when
the boy stole away silently by himself to a lonely part of the hill that
overlooked the little grey road beneath, and there sat as quiet and motionless
as the rabbits that peeped out of their holes in the rocks beside him. So still
did he sit that any one seeing him might have thought he was asleep, if they
had not seen his keen bright eyes and guessed that he was as busy with his
thoughts as he had been about his games.
But there was no one on
the wild hillside to watch the silent boy; only his little furry friends the
rabbits stole out and nibbled the grass about his feet, and the birds came
hopping around him, knowing they had nought to fear from one who never harmed
them, waiting for the meal which he always shared with these his friends.
Sometimes impatient of his long long thoughts, they would come nearer and peck
at his bare feet, and Cuthbert would raise himself and chide them for their
greediness, as he spread the crumbs which he had saved for them.
It was the little grey
road beneath on which his eyes were fixed, and his thoughts followed its
windings until it reached the old abbey of Melrose, the home of the holy monks,
the servants of God. Sometimes he would see two or three of the brothers in
their homespun cloaks passing beneath, and would listen to the soft notes of
the vesper hymn as it floated upwards, and the eager light in his eyes grew
ever brighter as he watched and listened. He knew what these good monks did for
the people around; how they protected the weak, helped the helpless, nursed the
sick, and went about unarmed and fearless through all the dangers that beset
their path. There was something about the look of their kind strong faces that
fascinated the boy, and drew him to watch for their passing and to dream of
their work and their courage. Then he would softly sing over the fragments of
their hymns which his keen ear had caught, and the sound stirred something in
his soul.
“Who knows; some day I
too may become a servant of God,” he would whisper to himself. And it was a
wonderful thought to dream about.
Then came a day which
Cuthbert never forgot. He was playing as usual with the other boys, who were
leaping and wrestling, and in their wild spirits trying to twist themselves
into every kind of curious shape. They were all laughing and shouting together,
when a little boy, scarce more than a baby, ran up and pulled Cuthbert by his
coat.
“Why dost thou play such
foolish games?” asked the child gravely.
Cuthbert stood still and
looked down with surprise into the child’s solemn eyes.
“Little wise one,” he
answered with a laugh, pushing him aside, but with no rough touch, “wilt thou
teach us thy games of wisdom instead?”
The child turned away and
with a sob flung himself upon the ground, crying as if his heart would break.
The children gathered round, fearing he was hurt, but no one could find out
what it was that vexed him, until Cuthbert lifted him up and soothed him with
kindly words.
“Has aught harmed thee?”
asked Cuthbert.
“No, no,” sobbed the
child; “but how canst thou, Cuthbert, chosen by God to be His servant and
bishop, play at foolish games with babes, when He has called thee to teach thy
elders?”
What strange words were
these? The other boys had little patience with the crying child, and roughly
bade him go home. But in Cuthbert’s ears the words rang with a solemn sound,
and he stored them up in his mind to ponder upon their meaning. What had the
child meant? Was it possible that some day the words would come true and he
would indeed be chosen by God to enter His service?
There was so much to
think about that the lonely hours on the hillside grew longer and longer, and
he but rarely joined in the games now. Even at night he could not rest,
thinking those long long thoughts. He knew that the holy monks spent many a
night in prayer to God, and he learned to love the dark solemn stillness when
he crept out on the bare hillside to say his prayers under the starlit sky.
It seemed to be a link
between him and those servants of God, and he thought in his childish way that
if the angels were there to carry the holy prayers up to God’s throne, they
might in passing take his little prayer as well, and in that goodly company God
would accept the best that a child could offer, knowing it was the prayer of
one who longed to serve Him too.
As Cuthbert grew older
there was less time for dreaming or for play. The sheep that were entrusted to
him needed constant watchful care, for it was no easy task to be a shepherd in
those wild days. Many an enemy lurked on the hillside, ready to snatch away a
lamb if the shepherd was not careful. Not only did wolves prowl hungrily
around, but men, not too honest, were as ready as the wolves to rob the flock,
and it behoved the shepherd to be ever watchful and wary.
At night-time the
shepherd lads would gather their sheep together and spend the hours in company
watching round the fire, which they piled high with dried heather and dead
branches from the wood. It was no hardship to Cuthbert, for he loved the long
quiet nights on the hillside, and often while the others slept he watched alone,
using the time for prayer.
He had helped to make the
watch-fire as usual one night and had seen to the safety of the sheep, and
then, one by one, the shepherd lads had fallen asleep in the warmth of the
glowing fire. There was no need to rouse them, for he could keep guard alone,
and he stole away a little apart to spend the night in prayer, as was his
custom.
It was a dark night; the
sky was velvet black, without even a star to prick a point of light through its
heavy blackness, and the reflection of the fire served only to make the
darkness more dense on the lonely hillside. Cuthbert could scarcely see the
outline of the sheep, huddled together for warmth, and in that great silence
and solitude God seemed very near. Then, as he knelt in prayer, gazing upwards,
a vision such as that which gladdened the eyes of the shepherds of Bethlehem
burst upon his view. A great stream of dazzling light broke through the
darkness, as if a window in heaven had been opened, and in that white shaft of
light a company of angels swept down to earth. It was no birthday message which
they brought this time, but their song of triumph told of a good life ended,
the crowning of a victor in a well-fought fight, as they bore upward the soul
of one whose warfare was accomplished and who was entering into the joy of his
Lord.
A great awe and joy
filled the soul of Cuthbert as he gazed. Long after the last gleam of heavenly
light had vanished, the last echo of the angels’ songs had ceased, he knelt on
there. This then was the glorious end of those who entered the service of God.
“Fight the good fight: lay hold on eternal life”; was that an echo of the
angels’ song, or how was it that he seemed to hear the words spoken clearly in
his ears?
With a cry Cuthbert
sprang to his feet and ran back to the fire where the sleeping shepherds lay.
“Wake up, wake up,” he
cried, shaking them by the shoulders as he spoke. “How can ye sleep when ye
might have beheld the vision of God’s angels?”
The startled lads jumped
up, wondering at first whether it might be an alarm of wolves or robbers, but
even they were awed when they caught sight of Cuthbert’s face and saw the light
that shone upon it. With breathless interest they listened to the tale he had
to tell of the angels’ visit and the soul they had carried up to God. What
could it all mean? They wished that they too had spent the night in prayer,
instead of sleeping there.
Early in the morning, as
soon as it was light and he could leave the sheep, Cuthbert found his way to
the nearest hamlet, and there he learned that Aiden, the holy Bishop of
Lindisfarne, had died that night.
So it was the soul of the
good Bishop whose glorious end, nay rather whose triumphant new beginning, had
been heralded by the angel throng. Cuthbert was awed to think that his eyes had
been permitted to gaze upon that wondrous vision, and he felt that it must
surely be a sign that God had given ear to his prayers, and would accept him as
His servant. It was a call to arms; there should be no delay. He was eager and
ready to fight the good fight, to lay hold on eternal life.
Before very long all his
plans were made. It was but a simple matter to follow the example of the
disciples of old, to leave all and to follow the Master. Only the sheep were to
be gathered into the fold and their charge given up; only the little hut on the
hillside to be visited, and a farewell to be said to the old nurse who dwelt
there. Cuthbert had lost both father and mother when he was eight years old,
and the old woman had taken charge of him ever since. She was sorely grieved to
part with the lad, but she saw that his purpose was strong and that nothing
would shake it. With trembling hands she blessed him ere he left her, and bade
him not forget the lonely little hut on the hillside and the old nurse who had cared
for him.
So at last all was ready,
and Cuthbert set off down the hillside and along the little grey road that led
to the monastery of Melrose, beside the shining silver windings of the Tweed.
Snow lay on all the hills
around, and the wintry wind wailed as it swept past the grey walls and through
the bare branches of the trees that clustered round the abbey. So mournful and
so wild was the sound that it might have been the spirit of evil wailing over
the coming defeat in store for the powers of darkness, when the young soldier
should arrive to enrol his name in the army of God’s followers.
At the door of the
monastery a group of monks were standing looking down the darkening road for
the return of one of the brothers. The prior Boisil himself was among them, and
was the first to catch sight of a figure coming towards them with a great
swinging stride. “A stranger,” said one of the brothers, trying to peer through
the gathering gloom.
“It is no beggar,” said
another. “Methinks it is a young knight. His steps are eager and swift, and he
hath strong young limbs.”
The prior said naught,
but he too eagerly watched the figure as it came nearer. A strange feeling of
expectancy had seized him. Something was surely about to happen which he had
half unconsciously long waited for. Then, as the boy drew near and lifted his
eager questioning eyes to the prior’s face, the good man’s heart went out to
him.
“Behold a servant of the
Lord.” Very solemnly the words rang out as Boisil stretched out both hands in
welcome, and then laid them in blessing upon the young fair head that was bowed
before him.
The greeting seemed
strange to the brethren gathered around. Who was this boy? What did their prior
mean? But stranger still did the greeting sound in the ears of Cuthbert
himself, and he could scarcely believe that he heard aright. “A servant of
God”: did the holy man really mean to call him, the shepherd lad, by that great
name?
“Father,” he cried,
almost bewildered, “wilt thou indeed teach me how I may become God’s servant,
for it is His service that I seek?”
The prior smiled kindly
at the anxious face, and bade him enter the monastery in God’s name.
“My son,” he said, “there
is much for thee to learn, much to suffer, much to overcome, but surely the
victory shall be thine.”
So Cuthbert entered the
monastery and the gates were shut. The old life was left behind and the new
life begun.
The prior himself taught
the boy his new lessons, for his love for the lad grew stronger and deeper each
day. Boisil felt sure there was a great future before the youth, and he often
dreamed dreams of the greatness in store for him and the work that he should do
for God in the world,
“Who knows,” he would
say, “what honour God hath in store for thee. If heaven sends dreams, then is
thy future sure, for I have seen thee wearing the bishop’s mitre and holding
the pastoral staff.”
As for Cuthbert himself,
he was too busy to think much of dreams or make plans for the future. Just as
he had played his boyish games with all his might, so now he threw his whole
soul into the work of the monastery. Lessons, prayer, fast and vigil, all were
diligently attended to, and it was pleasant to see his glad cheerfulness when
he was set to labour with his hands. The harder the task the more he seemed to
enjoy it, and he rejoiced in the strength of his body which made him able to
undertake much service. Although he now lived in the sheltered convent of the
valley, his thoughts would often fly back, like homing birds, to the green
hillsides, the glens and rocky passes, back to the little lonely weather-beaten
hut where the old nurse lived. He never could forget the people who lived up
there among the hills—poor shepherds, work-worn women and little children. It
was a hard life they lived, with never a soul to bring them a message of hope
or good cheer. Little wonder that their ways were often crooked and evil, and
the thought of God but a far-off, dim, half-forgotten dream. Little wonder that
black magic and witchcraft should still have power to enchain them in their
ignorance and fearfulness.
The good prior often
talked with the eager young brother about these wandering sheep, and when the
time came he sent Cuthbert out with his blessing to work amongst the hills once
more, to gather the flock into the true fold.
How well did Cuthbert
know those steep mountain paths! With what a light heart did he find his way
over the rough hillsides where no paths were, to reach some cluster of huts
where a few poor families lived, or even a solitary dwelling where some poor
soul needed his care. There was something about the young monk that won a
welcome for him wherever he went. Perhaps it was because he was so sure that
all would rejoice to hear the message he brought; perhaps it was because he
looked for the best in every one and so they gave him of their best.
From place to place
Cuthbert went, and it mattered not to him how rough was the road or how
terrific the storms that swept over the border-land. The snow might lie deep
upon the hills, and he might be forced to spend the whole day without food, but
no difficulty ever turned him back or forced him to leave one but unvisited.
Far and near the people
began to look anxiously for his coming, and to listen eagerly to his teaching.
There was always much for him to do; many a tale of sin to listen to, many a
sinner to be taught the way of repentance. There were children, too, to be
baptized, and this was work which Cuthbert always loved. They were the little
lambs of the flock to be specially guarded from the Evil One, who was ever
prowling around to snatch them from the fold. The hut where the old nurse lived
was often visited, for Cuthbert never forgot his friends.
There were other friends
too that Cuthbert remembered and loved. His “little sisters the birds” soon
learned to know and trust him again, and the wild animals of the hills grew
tame under his hand. It is said that on one of his journeys, as he went to
celebrate Mass with a little boy as server, they had finished all their food
and were obliged to go hungry. Just then an eagle hovered above their heads and
dropped a fish which it had just caught. The little boy seized it gladly and
would have promptly prepared it for their meal, but Cuthbert asked if he did
not think the kind fisherman deserved his share. The boy looked at the eagle
and then at the small fish; but he knew what the master meant, so the fish was
cut in half and the eagle swooped down to secure its share of the dinner.
There is another story
told of the kindness shown by his furry friends to Saint Cuthbert, and it is a
story which many people have remembered even when the history of Saint Cuthbert’s
life has been wellnigh forgotten.
It was when Cuthbert went
to visit the holy Abbess of Coldingham, that, as was his wont when night came
on, he wandered out to say his prayers in silence and alone. Now one of the
brothers had long been anxious to know how it was that Cuthbert spent the long
hours of the night, and so he stole down to the seashore and hid among the
rocks, watching to see what would happen.
It was a cold bleak
night, and the sea lay black and sullen outside the line of breakers, but Cuthbert
seemed to have no fear of cold or blackness. Reaching the edge of the waves, he
waded in deeper and ever deeper until the water rose as high as his chest.
Standing thus, he sang his hymn of praise to God, and the sound of the psalms
rose triumphant, hour after hour, above the sob of the sea and the wail of the
wintry wind. Not till the first faint gleam of dawn touched the east with rosy
light did Cuthbert cease his vigil of prayer and praise. Then, numbed and half
frozen, he waded out and stood upon the shelving beach once more, and from the
sea there followed him two otters. The watcher among the rocks saw the two
little animals rub themselves tenderly against the frozen feet, until their
soft fur brought back some warmth and life to the ice-cold limbs; and when
their work was done they stole quietly back into the water and were seen no
more. It is this legend of the kindness of the otters which has never been
forgotten whenever the name of Saint Cuthbert is mentioned.
For fourteen years
Cuthbert remained at Melrose, and when the good Boisil died the brethren chose
the favourite young monk as their prior. But it was not long before he left the
abbey of Melrose and went to the monastery of Lindisfarne, on the wild bleak
island known as Holy Island. Here for twelve years he did his work as
thoroughly and bravely as he had done when he was a monk at Melrose, and within
the monastery his gentleness and infinite patience, his kindliness and wise
dealing, smoothed away every difficulty, and brought peace and happiness to all
the community.
It was no easy life he
led on that bleak, bare, wind-swept island of the North Sea, but still Cuthbert
sought for something harder and more difficult to endure. He longed to follow
the example of the hermit saints of old, and he made up his mind to seek some
desert spot where he might live alone with God, far from the world with its
love of ease and its deadly temptations.
From the monastery of
Lindisfarne, Cuthbert had often gazed across to the little islands which in
summer-time shone like jewels set in a silver sea, and in winter seemed like
little grey lonely ghosts wrapped in their shroud of easterly haar, or lashed
by the cruel north wind until only the white foam of the breakers marked the
spot where they stood. It was whispered by the brethren that evil spirits had
their haunt upon the wildest of those little islands, and it seemed a fit place
for the powers of darkness to work their will. There was not a tree and
scarcely a plant upon the little island of Farne, for the bitter winds blew the
salt spray in from every side, and only the wild sea-birds, gulls, kittiwakes,
puffins, and eider-ducks, found shelter among the rocks to build their nests.
It seemed exactly the
spot that Cuthbert sought for his retreat, and he only smiled when the brethren
sought to dissuade him, and talked of the dangers that awaited any one who
dared to land upon that island.
“Have we not ourselves
heard the demon shrieks and their wild wicked laughter on stormy nights?” said
one brother solemnly.
“Ay, and have we not seen
the glitter of the demon lights set there to lure poor fishermen to their
destruction?” said another.
“The greater need, then,
that I should go,” said Cuthbert. “Christ’s soldier is the fittest champion to
fight the powers of darkness.”
So Christ’s soldier went
out to seek a home on the desolate island, and all alone there he set to work
to found a little kingdom of his own. Whether the demons fled at the approach
of the holy man, or whether they fought for their kingdom and were cast out by
the might of Saint Cuthbert, or whether he found only the shrieking wind and
wail of the wild birds instead of the howls of a demon crew, we know not. But
certain it is that when at last some of the brothers ventured over, half
timidly, to see how their prior fared, they found only Cuthbert and the wild
birds there in peaceful solitude.
The hut which he had
built for himself against the rocks was almost like a sea-bird’s nest, for it
was hollowed out deep within, and its walls were of rough stones and turf, its
roof of poles and dried grass. It must have been a work of great labour to
build that wall, and some of the stones were so large that it seemed as if it
would have needed three men to move them.
“He could not have done
it by himself,” whispered the brethren; “it is God’s angels who have helped
him.” And when, too, they found a spring of clear water gushing from the rock
close to the little oratory, they said in their hearts, “He who turneth the
stony rock into pools of water, hath here again shown His care for His
servant.”
At first it was needful
that food should be brought to Cuthbert on the desolate island, but he was very
anxious to provide for himself, for he always loved to work with his hands. The
first crop of corn which he sowed came to nought, but the next thing he tried
was barley, and that grew and flourished, and Cuthbert was content to think
that now no longer was he dependent on others for his food. Yet it was but a
scanty supply of grain that he had, and it was not without reason that the
people whispered that the angels must bring food to the holy man, for he never
seemed to lack the daily bread.
The wild birds that built
their nests in the island of Farne soon grew accustomed to their new companion,
and ceased to rise in white clouds when he came near. Of all the birds the
eider-ducks were his special favourites and his special friends, and even to
this day they are known by the name of Saint Cuthbert’s ducks. So friendly did
they become that, when the sunny month of June smiled on the little island and
the mother duck was sitting upon her nest, she would allow Saint Cuthbert to
come near and gently stroke her, and even let him peep inside at the hidden
treasure—the five pale olive-coloured eggs that lay so snugly at the bottom of
the nest.
For eight years Cuthbert
lived his life of prayer and self-denial in the little home he had made for
himself, but at the end of that time God had other work for him to do. In the
world of strife and human passions the Church had need of a strong arm and a
pure heart, and it was decided that the hermit of Farne Island should be called
forth and made a bishop.
A company of men landed
on the island and brought the message to the lonely man in his little oratory,
but Cuthbert would not listen to their pleading. The honour was too great for
him, he said, and he prayed them to leave him to his prayers. Then it was that
the King himself, with the bishops and great men of the kingdom, came in a
wondrous procession and besought Cuthbert to come out and do battle for God in
the Church. Cuthbert saw then that it was the will of God, and very sorrowfully
he yielded. It was with a sad heart that he left his home among the wild birds
and prepared to take his place in the world again as Bishop of Lindisfarne.
The dreams of Boisil, the
good prior of Melrose, had indeed come true. The shepherd lad of the hills, the
monk of Melrose, the prior of Lindisfarne, the hermit of Farne, now held the
pastoral staff and wore the mitre of a bishop.
It was no mere sign of
office that Cuthbert held in his hand the pastoral staff. He was indeed a
shepherd and bishop of men’s souls, and he guarded and tended his flock as
carefully as in the old days he had tended the sheep upon the hills. Once again
he trod the rough hilly paths and brought comfort and help to those who were
afar off, and lit the lamp of faith that had grown dim. Sometimes, in the wild
waste districts where there was no church and but few huts, the people would
build a shelter for him with the boughs of trees, and there, in Nature’s
green cathedral,
they would gather the children together for confirmation. Surely none of the
little ones ever forgot that moment when they knelt before the good Bishop and
felt the touch of his hand upon their bowed heads. The pale thin face was worn
with suffering and hardship now, but the old sweet smile still drew all men’s
hearts out to him, and the love that shone in his eyes seemed more of heaven
than of earth. He had always loved the lambs of the flock, and each little fair
head upon which he laid his hand had a special place in his heart, as he
gathered them into the fold of the Good Shepherd.
But it was not only the
souls of his people for which Cuthbert cared, but for their bodies as well.
Many an illness did he cure: many a stricken man owed his life to the Bishop’s
care. It seemed as if his very presence put fresh courage and strength into
those who were thought to be dying, so that the touch of his hand led them back
from the very gates of death. God had indeed given His servant special powers
of healing, and who shall measure the power of a good man’s prayers?
Once, in a far-off hamlet
which had been visited by a deadly sickness, Cuthbert had gone from hut to hut,
visiting and cheering each one of his people, leaving behind him courage and
returning health. He was very weary and worn out, for the work had been heavy,
but before leaving, he turned to a priest who was with him and said, “Is there
still any one sick in this place whom I can bless before I depart?”
“There is still one poor
woman over yonder,” answered the priest. “One of her sons is already dead and
the other is dying even now.”
A few swift strides and
the Bishop was by the side of the stricken mother. No thought had he of the
danger of catching the terrible disease. His strong loving hands gently drew
the dying child from her arms, and, holding the little one close to his heart,
he knelt and prayed that God would spare the little life. Even as he prayed the
child’s breathing grew easier, and the cold cheek grew flushed and warm, and
when he placed him again in his mother’s arms it was a living child she held
and not a dying one now.
But Cuthbert’s strength
was waning fast, and the old splendid health and strength were gone. He knew
his work was drawing to a close and the days of his usefulness were over, and
with the knowledge came a great longing to creep away to the little sea-girt
island, and spend the last few months alone with God.
It was with heavy hearts
that the brothers watched the little boat made ready which was to carry their
beloved Bishop away from their care.
“Tell us, Reverend
Bishop, when may we hope for thy return?” cried one.
“When you shall bring my
body back,” was the calm answer. Then they knew that this was their last
farewell, and they knelt in silence to receive his blessing.
The end was not far off.
A few short weeks amongst the happy birds; a worn weary body laying itself down
to rest before the altar in the little oratory; a glad soul winging its
triumphant flight back to God, and Saint Cuthbert’s earthly life was over.
The end? Nay, there is no
ending to the lives of God’s saints, for they come down to us through the ages,
a golden inheritance which can never die; stars in the dark night shining
steadily on, with a light “which shineth more and more unto the perfect Day.”
SOURCE : https://catholicsaints.info/amy-steedman-saint-cuthbert/
San Cutberto di
Lindisfarne Vescovo
Northumbria, 634 c. -
Farne, 20 marzo 687
Patronato: Pastori
Emblema: Bastone
pastorale
Martirologio
Romano: Nell’isola di Farne in Northumbria, nell’odierna Inghilterra,
transito di san Cutberto, vescovo di Lindisfarne, che nel suo ministero
pastorale brillò per la stessa diligenza dimostrata in precedenza in monastero
e nell’eremo, e armonizzò pacificamente l’austerità e lo stile di vita dei Celti
con i costumi romani.
Nato da famiglia contadina nella Northumbria circa il 634, dopo aver militato sotto il re Oswin, nel 651 entrò nel monastero di Melrose e nel 661 fece parte di un gruppo di monaci inviato a Ripon per fondarvi un monastero. Nel 664, divenuto priore di Lindisfarne, attuò le decisioni del concilio di Whitby che, per realizzare l'unità delle osservanze nella Chiesa anglosassone, si era pronunciato in favore degli usi romani contro quelli celtici; inoltre, diede ai suoi monaci, parallelamente alla regola di s. Benedetto, un'altra regola di cui mancano tracce. Nel 675 si ritirò a vita eremitica in una celletta nell'isola di Farne, ad alcuni chilometri dalla costa in cui si trovava il monastero. Ma nel 684 il concilio di Twyford lo elesse vescovo di Lindisfarne, su proposta dell'arcivescovo di Canterbury, Teodoro, che lo consacrò il giorno di Pasqua del 685, dopo aver vinto le sue tenaci resistenze. Zelante evangelizzatore, Cutberto percorse le campagne predicando e convertendo. Poco dopo il Natale del 686, sentendo imminente la fine, si ritirò nel suo antico eremitaggio di Farne, dove morì il 20 marzo 687. Il suo corpo fu sepolto presso l'altare del monastero di Lindisfarne.
In seguito a numerosi miracoli attribuiti alla sua intercessione, il 20 marzo 698 i monaci di Lindisfarne, col consenso del vescovo locale, Eadbert, lo canonizzarono mediante la forma, allora vigente, dell'elevazione delle reliquie. Queste furono successivamente traslate a Norham e Durham, dove si troverebbero ancora. La festa di Cutberto ricorre il 20 marzo. I suoi più antichi biografi sono un monaco di Lindisfarne, che scrisse verso l'anno 700, e Beda, che verso il 721 ne compose la Vita in versi e in prosa.
Autore: Antonio Rimoldi
SOURCE : http://www.santiebeati.it/dettaglio/46150
Voir aussi : Bede: The Life and Miracles of St. Cuthbert, Bishop
of Lindesfarne (721) - http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/bede-cuthbert.as
https://citydesert.wordpress.com/2014/08/31/st-cuthbert-the-saint-who-tried-and-failed-to-live-in-obscurity/
