OMNIUM SANCTORUM HIBERNIAE

Author: Michele Ainley

  • Saint Molagga of Timoleague, January 20

     

    January 20 is the feast of Saint Molagga of Timoleague. This County Cork saint was extremely well-travelled; tradition credits him with having been a student of Saint David of Wales as well as having gone on to found churches in Scotland. He is also associated with a number of localities in Ireland, not to mention with a number of other Irish saints, and thus I would be interested to see how modern scholars assess the career of Saint Molagga. To introduce his life however, I am reproducing some extracts from an article on Timoleague in a nineteenth-century Catholic magazine which summarizes all of the traditional stories about this most interesting saint:

    TIMOLEAGUE

    …Timoleague is just an easy, half-Englished way of pronouncing the Irish words meaning the “House of Molaga”; and Molaga was one of the early Saints when Ireland was young in the Christian faith for which it has suffered so much. Like many another Saint of that time, he had much to do with his brother missionaries of the Celtic race in Scotland and Wales; and his own life was spent in much travelling to and fro, studying and founding monasteries and doing any good work that came to hand, even to spreading the culture of bees in his own Ireland.

    It is common enough among these early Irish Saints and yet it is strange, when one comes to think of it that they have left their names bound up with all the different periods of their country’s history. This is because of the work done so well by them during their busy lives, and of the work done after they were dead and gone by the devotion of the common people to them through the succeeding centuries. Thus, in the case of Molaga, we have a few antique bits of building in the rude, primitive style of the early Celtic Christians, dating from himself or his disciples and telling a story of zeal for the glory of God’s house and the salvation of souls. Then we have the fine “Abbey” built much later in his honor by friars who came over from Italy hundreds of years after his death. And, in their turn, these splendid arches now stand broken and open to the day with only the ivy to clothe them round about, and the birds and winds to make music where the priests once sang to the glory of God and the Saint God gave them Molaga….

    It was in the territory of Fermoy, on the bound of the present barony of Condons and Clangibbon, far toward the north- eastern corner of County Cork, that our Saint was born, in the old principality of the O’Keefes which was long known as the Roches’ country. He was of the family of the O’Dugans, possessors of this territory of the “woodland,” as it was called. His parents were humble tillers of the ground, as were many who were kin to the petty Kings then governing the land. They had long been childless, and had all their hopes in the heavenly kingdom. One day, as they were sowing a ridge of flax on the south side of the road that runs along the little river Funshion, a troop of priests passed by travelling somewhither with St. Cummin the Long at their head. The Saint foretold to them that they should bring forth a son to their old age, as did Abraham and Sara; “that he would be a friend of learning, and that he should sit in the smooth hill of the plain as Abbot of the school.”

    When the child of prophecy was born, his parents brought him to the Cross of the Dun or neighboring Fort; and, behold, St. Cummin was at the ford awaiting to baptize one with whom, indeed, he was to be connected all his life. Here, later on, arose the church of Aghacross. Its ruins remain by the bend in the river ; and beside it is still an ancient well, consecrated to the Saint and flowing with its clear waters by lone Molaga’s holy cells.

    The cells of the Saint, which he built for himself and his disciples in the rude fashion of the time, have still their ruins on his “smooth hill of the plain.” They are in the Saint’s own parish of Tempul Molaga ; for his name, as we have said, remains everywhere here, however far away and dim may be the memories of the period in which he lived. On the southern slope of the hill, with the mountain stream winding below, the cashel or termon wall encloses an open space in which are the early oratory, a church of later date, another square building, and two of those crosses which speak so pathetically of the faith of Erin. The oratory is some twenty feet from the church. A great ash tree overshadows its eastern window, inside which according to ancient custom stood the altar whereon Christ -the mystic Day spring and Orient from on high- was offered in the Holy Sacrifice, even as now in the nearest and scarcely less humble parish church. Forty years ago there were six of these trees, and the walls stood much higher; but everything is slowly disappearing before the hand of man. So much the more necessary is it that the holy associations of the place should be preserved while there is yet time. Eighty feet away and still along the southern side of the hill, are four pillar stones as if to mark a boundary. To the west stretch afar the Galty Mountains in swelling waves, blue in the distance and mingling nearer the deep shadows of retreating valleys with the great russet spots on greenclad slopes which form so characteristic a picture in the memory of the tourist through Southern Ireland.

    Molaga -a young Culdee or Irish monk- did not long remain in the monastery after the years of his studies were over. He had gathered together a few disciples in this spot. But there were still Druids and idolatrous practices in the country ; and he felt himself driven forth, sore at heart, from the midst of so many evils. So he set out for Connor in Ulster, where there had been a bishop since the time of the Apostle St. Patrick. It still forms a bishop’s see, though long since united under one head with Down. Like the other holy men of his day, he carried a bell with him to give sign of the exercises of devotion. It was lost by him on the way, and its recovery was the occasion of founding a church (now Kill-foda in O’Neil-land East), whose lands were afterward called the Termon of the bell, while the “priest’s mistake of his bell ” passed into a proverb. From this he wandered on into Scotland and down to Wales, to the disciples of the great St. David of Menevia, a title which in our own day after centuries of forced apostasy on the part of the Welsh people has again been given to a Catholic bishop’s see.

    After some time spent in Wales, the Saint returned to his own country. He had received during his stay in other lands, first, the name by which we know him for Mo-laga is the kind-hearted Irish way of saying ” My Lachen,” the name bestowed on him by the religious children of St. David ; and second, a bell presented to him in memory of the religious ties he had formed with them. This present was enough to leave his name to a place in Wales, long called Boban-Molaga.

    St. David had always been in communication with his Celtic brethren of Ireland, and another of his disciples – Modomhnog, or Dominic of Ossory- had brought home with him from the Welsh monastery a swarm of bees, the culture of which he introduced among the Irish monks. But by this time ” My Dominic’s” bees were in need of another trained hand for their due care; and the services of our own Saint were eagerly demanded by the chieftain of what is now Dublin, as soon as he arrived there on his way homeward. He took this as an indication of the will of Providence ; for he was ever distrustful of the voice of flesh and blood in seeking again his native region among the hills of Munster Liath-Muine. So a church and land were given him a little to the north of what is now Balbriggan town ; and the King of Dun Dubhline ordered that every person in his domains should pay the Saint a pighin or penny every three years for his support, while he was to take charge of the patriarchal swarm of the Irish bees. In the midst of the blessed ground where the dead of his race are still laid away in the hope of the same resurrection which he preached, are the ruins of his old chapel of Lambeecher in Bremore, which is nothing else than the good Welsh name Llan-beachaire or “Church of the Beeman.” …

    We next find St. Molaga amid St. Kieran’s Seven Churches of Clonmacnoise on the River Shannon, the greatest of the ancient Irish establishments of religion and learning. About this time his old neighbors of Fermoy came to beg him to return to his own monastery of Tulach-mhin the smooth hill on the plain. They promised him many things, even fifty white milch cows every successive year ; and when he sent them away, they simply came back to him accompanied by their beseeching wives and children. He could no longer withstand so earnest entreaties ; and henceforth, to his death, his name is associated with his native home. It afterward became known by his name as Labba or Leaba Malaga “the Bed of Molaga;” for there, as all tradition has it, his mortal remains still lie awaiting the resurrection. …

    One of the latest acts of the Saint had been to imperil his life for his brethren by ministering to them in the time of the terrible “yellow plague” the Buidhe Chonnuil…

    It is not in connection with his last resting-place, but with the great Abbey called by way of excellence the “House of Molaga” Teach-Molaga that our Saint’s name is chiefly known. Colgan, the historian of the Irish Saints, gives on the 20th of January ” the feast of St. Molaga, Confessor, Patron of the Church of Timoleague.” This was probably the site of one of the Saint’s primitive monasteries; but its present memories date only from the coming of the Franciscans, in 1240.

    The Messenger, Vol. VI (xxvi). January, 1891, 3-18.

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

  • Saint Blathmac of Iona, January 19

    January 19 is the feast of a martyred monk of Iona, Saint Blaitmaic (Blathmac). Last year I posted on the martyrdom of this brave monk at the hands of the Vikings, using John Marsden’s book ‘The Fury of the Northmen’ to put the event into its historical context. He believes that the saint was subjected to a particularly gruesome form of blood sacrifice. That post can be found here. It contains extracts from the biography of the saint written by Walafrid Strabo within a couple of decades of the event, and Marsden also makes some interesting points about the transfer of saints’ relics at this time. This year, however, I offer a paper from the Irish Ecclesiastical Record which summarizes the life and death of Saint Blaitmaic. Although the contribution is unsigned, the author is in fact none other than dear old Canon O’Hanlon and represents his entry for the saint at January 19 in the first volume of Lives of the Irish Saints.

    ST. BLAITMAIC, OF IONA, MARTYR.
    SOME individuals are heroic in action; others in patient suffering. This noble saint, whose memory is held in honour on the 19th day of January, justly deserves the meed of praise for his fortitude under both aspects. Blaitmaic’s biography has been elegantly composed, in Latin hexameter verses, by Walafridus or Galafridus Strabo, a learned Benedictine monk, who died A.D. 847. This celebrated writer was an accomplished mediaeval poet. His greatly admired composition was written at the instigation of a venerable superior, Felix, and it appeared most probably some short time after the tragic but glorious death of the noble subject, suggesting Strabo’s fine poem.
    We are unable to state on whose authority events associated with the life of Blaitmaic depend, as they are metrically narrated by Strabo; but it is probable, they had been taken from some relation given by monks connected with Iona monastery. These informants, too, might have had a personal knowledge concerning the martyred Christian hero, and even of the circumstances attending his death. His interesting Acts have been frequently written in various forms, as well in prose as in verse.
    St. Blaitmaic or Brah Mac, which name, according to Strabo and Bollandus, means ” the beautiful son,” seems to have been gifted with singular graces even from his very infancy. This child, the delight of his parents, was of Royal extraction, and of noble birth. He was born in Ireland, most probably, about the middle of the eighth century. St. Blaitmaic was prospective heir to his father’s possessions, the ornament and hope of his family and country.
    At an early age he was distinguished for almost every virtue and merit. He is described as being of sound judgment, prudent, a great lover of holy purity, and humble, notwithstanding his exalted birth. The innate nobility of his soul surpassed that of his race. Accomplishments were not wanting to add a royal grace to his character ; sober and circumspect, he was pleasing in mien, and agreeable in disposition . Although remaining in the world he was not one of this world’s votaries. He had resolved upon devoting himself wholly to religious services, but kept this secret locked up within his own breast, until such time as he could most conveniently put his resolution into practice. Without his father’s knowledge, Blaitmaic withdrew privately to a monastery, where he practised all exercises of a monastic life, until his retreat was discovered.
    Hereupon, the fond parent, who loved his son according to the instinct of worldlings, repaired to this monastery; and he brought a band of friends and acquaintances, whose exertions and entreaties it had been supposed must have exercised great influence in changing Blaitmaic’s purpose. Besides the chiefs and people, a bishop and several abbots united their persuasions with those of his father to induce the Saint to resume his former rank. But the pious prince resisted all these solicitations, and persevered in his happy course of life.
    He looked upon himself as a servant to all the religious in the monastery, although esteemed beyond expression by his fellow-cenobites. He was distinguished by religious silence, and the observance of monastic discipline: by attentive study of the sacred Scriptures and books of ecclesiastical science, he edified all through his conduct and conversation. In due time, he was made superior of the religious community; and this band of religious he governed more by example than by precept. Christ Jesus was the sole object of his praise and glory, as of his discourse and allusions. Peace was his shield, prayers were his coat of mail; patience was his field for victory, and the word of God his sword; mildness characterized his conduct towards the monks; he became all things to all of them, that he might gain all to Christ. He was ever hopeful and loving; practising every virtue and avoiding every imperfection; and ever referring his actions to the great Author of our being. Thus his example brightened as a beacon before the eyes of his disciples; and these latter progressed towards perfection under the directing zeal of their saintly superior.
    Our Saint burned with a desire of martyrdom; and to attain this object, he had often attempted to visit strange lands, but had been prevented by his people. On a certain occasion, Blaitmaic thought to effect his retreat under cover of night, and through a secret path. He was accompanied by a small band of disciples; but the fugitives were arrested and brought back. However, his wishes were at length gratified; for he contrived to escape from his native country. Blaitmaic directed his course to Iona, “the sacred isle” of Columba. The Danish ravages had been frequently directed against the shrines and altars of unprotected religious that peopled this known island. But, in a knowledge of this fact, Blaitmaic grounded his hopes for securing to himself the palm of martyrdom.
    He had been gifted from on high with a spirit of prophecy. Hence, before a hostile irruption, which took place after the commencement of the ninth century, Blaitmaic predicted to his companions, in Iona monastery, a storm which was about to burst upon them. This seems to have occurred during the incumbency of Diarmait, the twentieth abbot in succession to the great St. Columkille.
    Before the northern pirates, with their fleet, had reached the shores of Columba’s sacred isle, Blaitmaic called the monks together, addressing them as follows: ” My friends, consider well the choice which is now left you. If you wish to endure martyrdom for the name of Christ, and fear it not, let such as will remain with me arm themselves with becoming courage. But those who are weak in resolution, let them fly, that they may avoid impending dangers, and nerve themselves for more fortunate issues. The near trial of certain death awaits us. Invincible faith, which looks to a future life, will shield the brave soldier of Christ, and the cautious security of flight will preserve the less courageous.”
    These words were received by the religious with resolutions suited to the confidence or timidity of each individual. Some resolved to brave the invaders’ fury, together with their holy companion ; some betook themselves to places of concealment until this hostile storm had passed.
    On the morning of January the 19th, A.D. 823, 824, or 825, St. Blaitmaic, robed in vestments of his order, had been engaged in celebrating the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Whilst he offered up the Immaculate Host, he stood as a self-immolated victim, prepared for sacrifice. The band of his faithful religious, anticipating a coronal of martyrdom, knelt around ; with tears and prayers they besought mercy and grace before the throne of God. This, truly, must have been a sublime spectacle, and one never yet surpassed in the records of human heroism. Whilst engaged in these services,the loud shout of their destroyers was heard thundering without the church. The Pagan and pirate Danes rushed in through its open doors, threatening death to the religious, and almost immediately afterwards these barbarous threats were put in execution. The monks, expecting this irruption, had the precaution to remove a rich shrine, containing St. Columba’s relics, from its usual place. They buried it under ground, so that it might thus escape the profanation of those savage invaders. That rich prize was what the Danes chiefly sought. They urged Blaitmaic to show them the place of its concealment. But our Saint, who knew not the particular place where it was buried, with unbending constancy of mind opposed himself to this armed band. Although unarmed himself, he put forth some futile efforts of strength to stay the ravages of his enemies. He cried out, at the same time, “I am entirely ignorant regarding those treasures you seek for, and where they are buried. But, even had I a knowledge of all this, my lips should yet be closed. Draw your swords, barbarians, take my chalice, and murder me. Gracious God, I humbly resign myself to Thee!” The barbarians immediately hewed him into pieces with their swords, and with more diabolical rage, because they were disappointed in their expectations for obtaining spoil. At this time the Abbot Diarmait was probably absent from Iona, and the holy martyred priest it would seem, worthily represented their Superior’s authority among the religious. The body of St. Blaitmaic was buried in that place where his glorious crown of martyrdom had been obtained, according to his biographer Strabo; and many miracles were afterwards wrought in favour of several persons, through the merits and intercession of this great soldier of Christ.
    We have not been able to discover whether our Saint ever enjoyed any superior dignity at Iona; but it would seem, from the preceding narrative, that he exercised considerable influence over the minds of his brethren on that island. We are told that in the Irish language this Saint is called Blathmhac. The first syllable of this compound name has an equivocal signification. Blath, when pronounced long, has the literal meaning ” a flower,” and the metaphorical signification “beautiful;” when pronounced short, it is rendered into the English words “honour” or “fame.” The word Mhac is Anglicised “son.” Truly was this heroic man named. For not alone was he the son and heir apparent to his father’s temporal possessions, but he became one of God’s glorified children, secured in the enjoyment of a heavenly inheritance. He plucked the flower of martyrdom with unbending constancy, and he blooms with distinguished brilliancy, “as the apple-tree among the trees of the woods.” His memory deserves to be honoured in the Church, since he achieved a distinguished reputation. This is one, likewise, which no concurrence of events can ever tend to tarnish or destroy.
    Irish Ecclesiastical Record, Volume 9 (1873), 502-508.

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  • Saint Dicuil of Lure, January 18

    January 18 is the feastday of Saint Dicuil, (Desle, Deicola) founder of Lure, a monastery famed for its learning across many centuries. Saint Dicuil was one of the missionary companions of Saint Columbanus, and his story is one of those explored by Margaret Stokes in her book on the remains of Irish saints in France:
    LEGEND OF ST. DEICOLA (ST. DESLE).
    THIS saint was a native of Leinster, and first became a friend of St. Columban at Bangor in Down, where he was distinguished for his learning and piety, and Columban conceived a great love for him. One day he said to Deicola, “How does it happen that your face is always shining with joy, and nothing seems to trouble your soul? ” And Deicola answered, “It is because nothing can ever part me from my God.” Though an older man than St. Columban he followed him on his pilgrimage, and lived with him at Annegrai and at Luxeuil. In the year 600, when St. Columban and his Irish monks were expelled from Luxeuil, St. Deicola hoped to be able to follow his master into banishment; but he had not gone more than a few miles along the valley of the river Ognon, when his strength broke down at a place called Vepras, near the town of Lure. He was an aged and infirm man at this time, and, throwing himself at the feet of St. Columban, he prayed him to let him finish his earthly pilgrimage among the trees of the forest in which they found themselves. The sorrow of Columban was very great at the thought of leaving his oldest friend, and one whom he so honoured, alone in the wilderness; but, setting the will of God before his own, he answered, saying, “May the Almighty Lord, for the love of whom you have left your native land, grant that we meet before His face in heaven.” At these words St. Deicola, knowing that the hour of parting had come, fell upon Columban’s neck, and said, ” May the Lord bless you all the days of your life with all the blessings of Jerusalem.” Then St. Columban went on his way, and St. Deicola remained in the forest alone. It was in a vast expanse of country, only peopled by wild animals; tract beyond tract of marshy and uncultivated ground. Here, without human help, but sustained by his sure faith, Deicola cast his care upon the Lord, and then plunged into the woods to seek a place where he might build his house. He remained without food or drink until the next morning. Kneeling on the ground, he struck it with his staff, and a fresh stream of water sprang forth, from which he drank. He then rose up refreshed, and continued his way until he reached a clear space in the forest, where a herd of swine were feeding. The swine-herd, who was in charge of them, was startled at seeing this old man, of unusual height and noble presence, clad in a strange costume, come forth from the wood. He said, “Who are you, and whence do you come? What do you seek in these wild places, coming thus without guide or companion?” “Fear nothing, my brother,” said Deicola ; “I am a traveller and a monk, and I ask you in charity to show me a place where I may build my cell.” The swine-herd replied that he only knew of one spot, called Lutra (Lure), a very marshy place, where he would have plenty of water. ” But I cannot be your guide,” he added, “for my herd would stray away in my absence.” Deicola looked at the swineherd, and answered, “Here, my son, take my staff, and fix it in the ground, and it will take thy place with the swine, and guard them till thy return.” So saying, he planted his staff in the ground, and the swine crouched in a circle round it. The swineherd followed the old man, and led him to the site he had spoken of, where the saint fixed his tent beside a well. When the swineherd returned to his herd he found them as he left them, grouped around the staff.
    The solitude of the saint was broken one day by a visit from King Clothair II. This prince, now head of the Frankish monarchy, had gone out hunting in the ancient forest of Sequania, and was in pursuit of a huge boar, who sought refuge in the cell of the old monk. The beast, terrified and panting, crouched at the feet of Deicola, as if in search of pity and protection, and the saint, laying his hand upon his head, said to him, “Since thou hast sought charity here, thou shalt find safety also.” He then went and stood at the door of his cell; the pack of hounds came on at full speed, baying loudly, but suddenly stopped before the door, as if they were afraid to advance. The huntsmen hurried to tell the king, who approached that he might see this miracle. When he learned that Deicola was a friend of Columban, whose name he had always honoured, the king left off his hunting that he might sit some while in the cell of the old recluse. He asked, ” What are your means of living, and how do your brethren fare in such a wilderness as this?” “It is written,” said St. Deicola, ” that they who fear God shall want for nothing. We are poor, it is true, but we love and serve the Lord; that is of more value than much riches.”
    Some time after this event King Clothair made a solemn grant to this rising community of all the forests, pastures, and fisheries possessed by the fiscal in the neighbourhood of Lure; to these he added a town named Bredana, with its church and vineyard of St. Antoine.
    When Deicola (Desle) first settled here, he found that there was a church dedicated to St. Martin, on the summit of a neighbouring hill, to which the lord of the district, Werfarius, had appointed a priest for the holy office, and to this sanctuary Deicola went by night to offer praise and prayer to God, and each night that he approached the door was opened by angels for him. But the priest in residence was displeased when he heard this, and said to his congregation, “I will remain here no longer because of this itinerant monk. He lies hidden in the forest all day, and then comes forth at night, and by some unknown enchantment the door of this temple opens at his approach.” The people advised patience, saying, “The truth will come to light some day. If this monk’s power be of God we cannot hinder him ; if it prove otherwise, we shall treat him as an impostor, and drive him pitilessly forth from our land.”
    So Deicola (Desle) continued to pray in the church of St. Martin by night, and the fame of his miracles and holy life inflamed the anger of the priest against him, so that he closed the doors and windows of the church with thorns and branches; nevertheless, the saint kept on his nightly vigil without hindrance. The priest appealed to the lord Werfarius, who was of a cruel and angry temper, and who was then living in his castle of Analesberg, or Lawesberg, near Chalonvillars, south-east of Belfort. He commanded that Deicola should be seized and chastised; but no sooner had the order gone forth, than the prince was seized with a mortal illness and died. His wife Berthilia, seeing the hand of God in this, sent to entreat the saint, whom her husband had unjustly condemned, to come to her aid.
    When Deicola arrived he was weary and heated by the long journey, and seating himself, he took off his cloak. A servant advanced to lay it down, when suddenly it was seen suspended in the air, hanging on a ray of sunlight that had penetrated into the chamber. Seeing this. Berthilda threw herself at his feet, and praying for her husband’s soul she sought to repair his cruelty to the saint by endowing his church with land and with the Church of St. Martin. Thus enriched, a spacious monastery arose at Lure in a few years, where men of one heart and one soul kept up the Laus perennis night and day, and spent their days in labour and in prayer. Two churches, one dedicated to St. Peter, the other to St. Paul, were added to the buildings.
    When all these things were accomplished Deicola, feeling his end approach, called his follower Colombin and his monks to his side, and they took the last Sacrament together; then he spoke to them in wise and touching words, bidding them of all things to remember charity, and with fervour to strive against the difficulties that beset the way to heaven. Having parted from each of his children with a loving embrace, he fell asleep on the 18th of January, A.D. 625, and his disciples buried him with honour in the place where he had died, in the Oratory of the Holy Trinity.
    The saint seemed to live again in his follower Colombin, and the fame of Lure was spread throughout Franche Comte and into the Vosges and Alsace. And thus it was that St. Deicola laid the foundations of this great abbey of Lure, which ultimately became one of the richest abbeys of France, and which twelve centuries later numbered princes of the Roman Empire among its abbots.
    Margaret Stokes, Three Months in the Forests of France – A Pilgrimage in Search of Vestiges of the Irish Saints in France (London, 1895), 41-44.

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