OMNIUM SANCTORUM HIBERNIAE

Author: Michele Ainley

  • Vignettes from the Lives of the Irish Saints: The Miracle of Loch Leamnachta

    January 29 is the feast of Saint Blath, cook to Saint Brigid of Kildare. Although no details of the life of Saint Blath have survived, she is mentioned in the hagiography of her famous abbess in connection with a miracle concerning some unexpected episcopal visitors and a dearth of milk. The miracle of Loch Leamnachta provided the inspiration for writer Alice Dease, in her 1911 work Good Women of Erin, to try and give a little more substance to the person of Saint Blath. In this story aimed at the younger reader, she portrays Blath as a shepherd girl who encounters the holy Abbess of Kildare and develops a deep longing to join her. Although the story of the hungry visiting bishops is retained from the account of the miracle, in her fictional version Dease makes Blath, the humble cook, the heroine rather than Brigid, the illustrious Abbess. Indeed, Saint Brigid is depicted as having forgotten that the milk supply for the day is already exhausted. I have edited the story slightly for length, but the original can be accessed online at the Institute for Irish American Studies at Lehman College, where you can also enjoy the wonderful woodcut illustrations:
    The Miracle of Loch Leamnachta
    WHEN St. Brigid first went to the Plains of Leinster to found her great convent under the shelter of the oak forest, there were no dwellings for many miles round the spot where she chose to build her church and her cells. The forest glades and the grassy plains round about the oak-trees were given up to flocks of sheep and of cattle, and the only human beings that were ever seen in the neighbourhood of Kill-Dara, until the coming of St. Brigid and her nuns, were the women and the girls who herded the cattle and watched the sheep. Amongst these shepherdesses there was a maiden whom her companions called by the name of Blath, which means a flower. She had won for herself this name by her great love for the wild-flowers that grew amongst the grasses on the plain, but there was another reason which made this name doubly suitable to her.
    One day when her sheep were resting quietly in the shade of the oak-trees, Blath wandered away from them, going hither and thither in search of the flowers that she loved. She had picked a great bunch of daisies, when suddenly she was startled by the sound of footsteps, and, looking up, she saw some dark figures approaching her, clad in flowing robes unlike anything she had ever seen before. For a moment she was afraid, and she would have fled, clasping her flowers to her, had it not been that a second glance at the face of the foremost of the strangers chased away all fear, and made the peasant-girl stay where she was, motionless, in wondering admiration .
    “Come hither, little maiden,” said the beautiful lady … Come and tell us your name, and what you are doing in this lonely spot.”
    “My name is Blath,” replied the shepherdess, hanging her head till her soft cheek touched the white petals of the dog-daisies she carried, “and I am minding the sheep that are resting away there,”
    “Blath,” repeated St. Brigid, for it was the holy Abbess who was on her way to Cill-Dara to found her convent, who had spoken to the maiden- “Blath! You are well named, little one, for there is great likeness between your innocent face and the pretty flowers that you carry in your arms,”
    “Do you think they are pretty, too?” asked Blath, for the soft voice had made her forget her shyness. “The other girls laugh at me for loving them.” Then, holding them out with a sudden movement, ” Please, lady, take them. I-I would like to give them to you.” And St. Brigid took the flowers, and bade their little namesake to try ever to keep her own soul as spotless as the petals of the flowers that she loved.
    [The story continues with Blath observing the construction of the monastery at Kildare and the steady stream of women wishing to take the veil there]
    The little shepherdess watched these maidens with envious eyes. Ever since St. Brigid had spoken to her in the forest and had accepted her flowers, Blath had longed to win her notice once again, to hear her speak, as she had done that day, of God and of His great love for innocent hearts, to serve her, and, through her, to serve her Master. But, as time went on, and the convent-bell reminded the little shepherdess several times in the day to join her prayers with those of the nuns, who were praying in the chapel by the oak, a purer, more perfect wish to serve God began to take root in her heart. She longed to have some great thing to give up for His sake, as the noble maidens had who entered the convent almost daily, and for a long time she did not dare to offer the only things she had -her heart and her life- for His service.
    Then, one day, she again met St. Brigid, and, falling on her knees, Blath begged to be received into the convent as the last and least of all the Sisters. St. Brigid at this time was about to make a new foundation at a little distance from Cill-Dara, at a place where some land had been given to her on the borders of a small lake, and, wishing to try the little shepherdess, she told her that there was no work for her to do at Cill-Dara, but if she liked to go to the new convent and ask there for admission, St. Brigid would ask the Prioress to take her in, to work in the kitchen. Blath had pictured to herself long hours spent in prayer in the church that she loved at Cill-Dara, but when she heard the holy Abbess’s decision, her first feeling was one of joy that she should have this sacrifice of her own wishes to offer to God, and her only answer was a prayer to be allowed to go without delay to the new convent.
    The Sisters whom Blath was bidden to help, found her so meek, so diligent at her work, and so obedient to them and to the rules of the house, that before very long she was allowed to take the veil, and then, after the usual novitiate, she made the vows that bound her, of her own will, to the service of God for ever.
    St. Brigid used often to come to the convent, for she was Abbess both of that house and of Cill-Dara, so that Blath, who, as time went on, was given the whole charge of the kitchen, had the joy of serving the Mother she loved so much.
    One day, when St. Brigid was at the convent, eight holy men came to see her and ask her advice. They had travelled a long way, and were weary and exhausted, and as soon as the Abbess had greeted them, she sent word to Sister Blath in the kitchen to make ready a repast for the travellers, and to be sure that they were provided with plenty of milk to assuage their thirst, which was very great after their long and toilsome journey. But, in ordering this repast, St. Brigid had forgotten that the poor people who were always coming to the convent to beg for alms and for food had been given everything, down to the last piece of bread that was in the larder.
    Once some of her nuns had complained to St. Brigid of her great charity to the poor. “Little food have we,” they said, “from thy compassion to everyone, and we ourselves in want of food and raiment.”
    “Give earthly things to God,” St. Brigid had made answer, “and He will give you heavenly things in return.”
    And from that time no one had dared make any complaint as to her generosity.
    But poor Sister Blath, turning from the empty shelves of the larder, went to the dairy, hoping at least to be able to fulfil a part of her Superior’s orders, but the last drop of milk had also been given to the poor, and there was nothing to be seen but a row of empty pails and pans.
    Whilst Sister Blath was wringing her hands in the empty dairy, a messenger came to her, bidding her hasten at least to take the milk to the holy prelates, who were consumed with thirst.
    The holy cook, who, even while working, kept her heart raised up in prayer to God, felt now that only God Himself could help her to obey these orders, and, going on her knees, she begged of Him to tell her what to do. Whilst thus she prayed, it suddenly came into her mind that, although the cows had only lately been milked, she might, perhaps, be able to get from them enough to allay the worst of the travellers’ thirst.
    No sooner had this thought come into her mind than she rose to her feet, seized the largest of the milk-pails, and went out to the pasture where the cows had just been driven. Still praying, she began to milk one of the cows, and immediately her pail was filled to overflowing with the sweetest and richest of milk. Without even waiting to put the milk into a pitcher, Sister Blath, overjoyed at the marvellous success of her prayers, went straight to the presence of the Abbess and her guests.
    The holy men partook gladly of the foaming milk, and then one and all besought St. Brigid not to have anything prepared for them to eat, because their hunger as well as their thirst had been well satisfied by the milk, which was sweeter and more refreshing than anything they had ever drunk.
    There was still a little milk left in the pail after the prelates had slaked their thirst, and, going back to the kitchen, Sister Blath found a crowd of beggars waiting for the alms that were never refused to them, as long as there was anything left in the convent to give. ” I have nothing to-day except a cup of milk for one or two amongst you,” said Sister Blath, and, on hearing this, all of them crowded round her, hoping to be one of the lucky ones who would receive the milk.
    Dipping a cup into the pail, the Sister handed it to the beggar who was nearest to her, and then to one after another she gave the same dole, until, like the travellers, everyone was satisfied, and it was only then that the pail was found to be dry and empty.
    As soon as she was alone, Sister Blath fell upon her knees to thank God for having allowed so wonderful a thing to happen in answer to her prayers, but she was so humble that, had it not been for the beggars, no one would ever have known what had happened. As it was, however, they told how the drop of milk in the Sister’s pail had been enough to feed them everyone, and when this was told, then Sister Blath made known how she had got the milk.
    The little lake on the shores of which Sister Blath had milked the cow was known from that day as Loch Leamnachta, which in Irish means the lake of the milk. And when St. Brigid heard of what had happened, she thanked God for having helped Sister Blath to keep her heart as pure and unspotted as the flowers from which she took her name, for if this had not been the case, her prayer would not have been heard in so wonderful a manner.
    It is only for His Saints, for those who are holy, and humble, and pure of heart, that God deigns to work such miracles as this, and St. Brigid prayed that Sister Blath might continue to be saintly on earth, so that some day she might take her place amongst God’s own Saints in Heaven.
    Alice Dease, ‘The Miracle of Loch Leamnachta’ in Good Women of Erin: The story of their heroic lives and deeds (Benziger Bros., New York, 1911), 44-52.

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  • Saint Comman Lobhar, January 28

    January 28 is the commemoration of one of the many obscure Irish saints, for whom our only source is the recording of his name on the Irish calendars. In the case of Saint Comman though, he has a couple of epithets attached to his by the seventeenth-century compilers of the Martyrology of Donegal. First is the word Lobhar, ‘leper’ and secondly is the patronymic ‘Son of Laighne’. The earliest Irish calendar, the late eighth/early ninth-century Martyrology of Tallaght, simply recorded the name of Comman. All Canon O’Hanlon can do is to bring the information from the calendars in the third of his articles of the day in Volume One of his Lives of the Irish Saints:

    St. Commain or Comman Lobhar, Son of Laighne.

    Commain’s name, without any other description, is found in the Martyrology of Tallagh, at the 28th of January. From the compound name entered in a later calendar, Lobhar or “Leper,” it may be assumed he had been afflicted with leprosy. On this day, Comman Lobhar, son of Laighne, is entered in the Martyrology of Donegal.

    Content Copyright © Omnium Sanctorum Hiberniae 2012-2015. All rights reserved.

  • Saint Naile (Natalis), 27 January

    The Martyrology of Donegal records for today:
    27. F. SEXTO KAL. FEBRUARII. 27.
    ‘NAILE, of Inbher-Naile in Tir-Baghuine, in Cinel-Conaill; and afterwards Abbot of Cill-Naile and Daimhinis in Feara-Manach. He was a son of Aenghus, (son of Nadfraech, son of Core, son of Lughaidh,) who was king of Munster; and Eithne, daughter of Crimhthann Cosgrach, was his mother, according to his own Life.
    It was to him God gave water from the hard stony rock, when great thirst had seized him and Maedhog of Fearna, with the monks of both; when he made a distant cast of his crozier at the hard stony rock, so that a stream of pure spring water gushed therefrom; just as this spring is now to be seen at Cill-Naile, according to Naile’s own Life, chap. 10. The Life of Colum Cille, chap. 90, states that Naile came into the presence of Colum Cille for the first time, at the Inbher, and that Colum Cille and Naile blessed the place, and that it is from Naile the church has been thenceforth named.’
    A translation of an Irish Life of this saint, the Betha Naile, is available through the CELT project. It begins, as is common in the lives of many of the Irish saints, with a description of the unusual events surrounding the birth of the saint:
    Now to this Eithne appeared a strange and wondrous vision. (She dreamed) that she was pregnant, and her delivery imminent, and that of this pregnancy a sturdy dog-whelp was born, which was washed in milk, so that therefrom every quarter and nook in Ireland was filled with milk and lactage.
    So then they passed the time of their reign right prosperously, without trouble or lack; and the queen became pregnant, and of her pregnancy was born a notable birth of a son. And when they were minded to take him to be baptised, an angel appeared on the horn of the altar in the presence of them all, and said to them in a loud clear voice: ‘Let the name of Naile be given to the young child; for verily this golden candle shall be holy, and everyone will believe on the fair patron saint.’
    The saint demonstrates his virtues even in childhood:

    So then the young child was nurtured after this, and assuredly every word he uttered was full of grace from the royal angel. And at the end of his seven years the steadfast patron saint was assuredly a doctor in the seven liberal sciences owing to his persevering study. And then the angel ordered the weighty clerk to go to Colum Cille in order that a mother church complete might be consecrated for the young child, and a place in which he might make his abode with his clergy and with his sacred bells.

    The encounter of the great Saint Colum Cille with the child prodigy is presented as a meeting of equals:
    And Naile set out on this holy errand (or holy instruction) with his retinue of clerks in attendance. Now Colum Cille, son of Feidlimid, son of Fergus Cennfada (long-head), son of Conall Gulban, son of Niall of the Nine Hostages, was then at fresh-featured Inber Naile, reciting his psalms, and chanting his ‘Beati’ and devoutly praising the Creator, with the clerks of Leth Cuinn (Conn’s half, i.e. northern Ireland) about him, when they saw the slow-stepping bell-hallowed troop approaching them, and a young fresh modest tree in the centre of the clerks to instruct them fairly, and a thousand reverend angels haunting them unfailingly.
    And when Colum Cille and his clerks looked on Naile with his noble troop, they fell on their knees before him. And when Naile saw this honour paid to him by the crimson-penned primate of the sweet pater-nosters, he hastily sank on his knees to the ground out of reverence to the lofty patron saint. And they eagerly kissed each other three times, to wit, Colum Cille and Naile; and the clerks also joined in welcoming him;
    The young Naile then devotes himself to the monastic life:

    So then Naile spent part of his life in Inber Naile modestly, piously, devotedly, in mighty works, and he fashioned there a church for labour, and an oratory for hard devotion, wherein to nobly recite his psalm-reading, and to mightily praise his Lord; so that the relation of the mighty works of the saint was a destruction to the great sin and to the misbelief of high Erin.

    until another great monastic saint, Molaise of Devenish, County Fermanagh, is looking for a successor:

    So then it was at this time and hour that Molaise of Devenish came as venerable high legate, with twelve saints of his household round about him in place of the apostles. Thereupon a dangerous sudden illness seized Molaise on the spot, and he was commending himself to God and the good saints without ceasing. And the clerks said: ‘To whom dost thou leave thy place, O great patron saint? or who will act as a divine son to instruct us duly, to blot out our sins, and direct our theology?’

    For Molaise, the choice is obvious, but should there be any question, all doubts will be resolved by a miracle:
    ‘To whom in sooth should I leave it?’ said Molaise, ‘save to the steadfast ready-witted tree, and the godly devout candle, even to my disciple and good brother, to wit, Naile the nobly intelligent; and if ye believe not that the clerk has been duly chosen by me and by God, this sweet-voiced intact bell which is under my head will leap into the bosom of the man for whom the place is fitting.’
    So then after this mutual discourse, his soul departed from his body, and his soul was carried without doubt to fill up the nine orders of angels. And as they were preparing his funeral rites, and the saints were in bright attendance on him, then came Naile to the place where he (Molaise) was. And while they were there, the sweet-voiced fair wonder-working bell leaped from (under) the head of Molaise in presence of the clerks, and settled on the breast of the holy clerk;
    Before long, word of the sanctity of Naile reaches another saint:

    Now when Maedoc heard of the many and various miracles of this saint, Naile, and that he was a proper worthy saint in the place of Molaise, he sent messengers to him to confirm the close compact, and to establish the fair faith which had been between Molaise and Maedoc. And this was the definite special place agreed on by the pure patron saints, to wit, the rich bright-gleaming Disert na Topar (Hermitage of the Springs), which is now called Cell Naile (Naile’s Church) of the noble judgements , and which had assuredly a further name, Cluain Caem (the Fair Mead) till Dathernoc (Ternoc) occupied the princely place.

    Ternoc, however, rather foolishly offends Saint Naile:

    So then Naile came with his numerous clergy, and Maedoc with his monks to keep this tryst to the fair church with its wonder-working bell. And Naile took his seat with his numerous clergy on the summit of the high hill, with his back against a pillar-stone above the place. And a mighty thirst seized him on the spot; and he called Flannan, son of Fiachna, son of Fergus, to him, and bade him to go without long delay to ask speedily for a drink. And Flannan went on this errand, and asked a drink of Ternoc for his lord. And Ternoc refused and denied the request, and spoke to this effect: ‘As I have produced water by my miracles and mighty works, so the head of the faith and devotion of Leth Cuinn shall do the like.’

    and receives the reward for his hubris:
    And Flannan departed in great perturbation at this answer, and made his report to his master. And Naile was furiously angry at this response, and this is how he was, with his ever-wonder-working staff erect in his right hand; and he hurled the finely carved staff across three full ploughlands (?), so that it went speedily under the fixed stones of the land. And Naile said furiously: ‘Follow my staff, O Flannan, and take with thee my stone-red cup of polished form, and wherever the staff shall enter the ground seek there for water for our patron saints.’
    And Flannan set out on this commission, and unhesitatingly took the cup; and this is how he found the staff, stuck in a huge infrangible rock, and a pure-cold stream of blue water burst forth instantly and spontaneously after it. And he dipped the cup into the fair water, and lifted the staff out of the solid earth, and proceeded untiringly to Naile, and related the miracles to the clerks and gave a drink of the good water to Naile.
    Ternoc decides that now might be a good time to show a little contrition:

    So then when Ternoc saw these weighty miracles, and Naile furiously punishing him, the patron saint proceeded on his knees from the sunny fountain where he was, to the hill where Naile was with his clerks, and thus addressed him: ‘O divine loving tree of fair behaviour, O steadfast pious blazing candle, O royal gracious saint, do not deprive me of heaven through thy great miracles.’ Naile answered without bitterness in these words and said: ‘I do not deprive thee of heaven, O holy clerk; but I will deprive thee of this place, where thou didst obstinately refuse to us patron-saints (a drink of) cold water. And I leave to thee that to whatever district thou shalt move, and in whatever place thou shalt occupy a church, where its priest shall be preaching, and its good clerks continually praying to God, wolves will be burrowing in thy cemetery, and foxes routing in it with their snouts.’

    and the pair enter into an extraordinary contest of curses:

    And Ternoc answered these heavy sayings, and spake thus: ‘I leave (to thee) to have no sheep in thy fair church.’ Naile replied and said: ‘I leave thee jealousy of the keepers of the sheep for their fair fleeces.’ ‘I leave,’ said Ternoc, ‘fleas to plague you afresh, and mice to ravage you speedily.’ Naile answered and said: ‘I relegate the fleas to the dense fens, and the mice to the wide woods.’ And Ternoc spake and said: ‘I leave the bloom of (only) one night on your rushes.’ And Naile said: ‘I leave rushes up to the door-posts in the high place; and I leave excellences in the smoothe church, to wit, to be one of the three hearths of most hospitable service in the land of mild miracles, Breifne; to wit, the hearth of my holy church, the great wonder-working hearth of Maedoc, and the ever grace-endowed hearth of Bricin.’

    There can, of course, be only one winner:

    So then after the confirming of their covenant by Maedoc of the sweet speech and Naile of the fresh form, and after the hasty departure of Ternoc, Naile remained behind ordering the fair church, and levelling its cemetery, and strengthening its oratories, and ennobling its altars, and making ready its monuments, and consolidating its crosses, and cleansing the side of its fountains, so that thereafter it was a church angelic, golden-belled, heavenly, noble, of sacred beauty, divine, charitable, intelligent, hallowed.

    In the remaining part of the Beatha Naile, Saint Columcille makes a reappearance, battling a sea monster and causing ‘Senach the ancient smith’ to make a wondrous bell for Naile. Saint Naile, however, remains a dangerous man to cross, as the unfortunate organizers of a feast discover. They leave our saint off the guest list and he is not at all pleased:

    And the dispenser of the glittering feast was black-browed Murchad of whom are the family of Murchad…And it chanced that Naile and his company of clerks were not remembered. And it occurred to Luan and to Murchad that Naile and his clerks had been carelessly forgotten. And when Naile heard that he had been forgotten in the matter of this good feast, the steadfast, cautious, wise, true-judging tree, and the pious, loving, humane spirit was angry and furious; for he did not think that even a small portion of his tax or tribute would be maintained to his bells or his clerks after him, if it were violated so early as this.

    A third party, Tigernach, offers himself as an honest broker between the outraged Naile and the now fearful Luan and Murchad. He begins by assuring Naile that the true culprit is Murchad, but Naile’s wrath is not easily appeased:

    And Naile said without delay: ‘I curse that Murchad with his descendants; defect of carving on his carving, and on himself, and on his families after him.’ And Luan said right promptly: ‘The decision of Tigernach shall be accepted right promptly by myself, and by my family after me.’ And Naile said that he would accept the judgement of Tigernach in the matter. And this was the judgement which Tigernach pronounced to Naile in this cause: a tithe of the banquet and a tithe of all hospitality outside his chief place from himself (i.e. Luan), and from his family after him, to Naile, and to his chief relics after him. And as part of the same agreements, protection for the red hand (i.e. murderer) to his asylum and to his bellhalidoms.

    The manuscript ends at this point.
    This account of a saint cursing his enemies and displaying a concern for the reputation and holdings of his monastery is perhaps rather shocking to the modern reader. Modern scholarship has established a context into which such episodes can be placed and is something which I intend to address in a future post. If nothing else though this aspect of hagiography acts as something of a corrective to the cuddly image of our native saints so often presented in popular works on ‘Celtic spirituality’.  Saint Naile continues to be commemorated in both the northern counties of Donegal and Fermanagh, and perhaps that is just as well!

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