OMNIUM SANCTORUM HIBERNIAE

Author: Michele Ainley

  • Saint Connachtach of Iona, May 10

    May 10 is the feast of Saint Connachtach, an 8th/9th century abbot of Iona. This successor to Saint Colum Cille enjoyed a particular reputation as a scriba selectissimus, a scribe most choice, but the evidence from the Annals suggests that his tenure as abbot was of short duration and set against a backdrop of Viking attacks. Cowley Father, the Rev. Edward Craig Trenholme, gave a summary of the careers of the abbots of Iona in his 1909 guide to the historic monastery. He begins his listing of those in the ninth century with our saint:  

    THE NINTH CENTURY.

    18. Connachtach (801-802), “a scribe most choice and abbot of Ia”, had a short and troubled term of office. It must have been in quieter times and a lower station that he attained to fame as a “scriba selectissimus.” Some marvellous manuscripts of the Irish monastic scribes survive to show what Connachtach’s title implies. But alas! for such peaceful arts and Iona’s stores of precious writings in the calamitous ninth century. The Danish attack on the monastery in 795 proved the preliminary of a long period of terror, blood, and fire, in which Iona won the glory of “red martyrdom,” but lost well-nigh all else. In Connachtach’s first year the monastery was burned by the “Gentiles,” and the Abbot died next year. The ravagers returned again and again, as we shall see, but after each successive attack the love and veneration of the monks of Iona for their home forced them to re-establish themselves there at all perils.

    Rev. E. C. Trenholme, The Story of Iona, (Edinburgh, 1909), 67.

    Canon O’Hanlon in his account of Abbot Connachtach gives him the alternative name of Cormac and suggests that he may have met his death at the hands of the Viking raiders:

    Article III. Cormac or Connachtach, Abbot of Iona.
    [Eighth and Ninth Centuries.]  
    On the authority of the Martyrology of Tallagh, which enters Cormac at the 10th of May, Colgan assigns to this day, the festival of the present holy man. This authority is followed, likewise, by the Bollandists, who remark on the number of Irish Saints so called, as enumerated by Colgan, when treating about several bearing that name. Connachtach—a name substituted for Cormac—is said to have been a select scribe, and he became Abbot of Iona, most probably, after the demise of Bersal Mac Seghine, which is given, at the year 801, having been incumbent for thirty-one years. Connachtach followed his predecessor to the tomb, after a very short term of rule. He died according to some accounts, in 797—but recte 802—assuming the corrected chronology found, in Dr. O’Donovan’s Annals of the Four Masters. The cause assigned for Connachtach’s death, is not recorded; but as Hy-Columcille was burned by the Gentiles, A.D. 802, it is probable enough, that our Abbot met with a violent death, at their hands, having perished during the calamity inflicted on his religious community.

    Some modern writers have suggested that Abbot Connachtach’s reputation as an eminent scribe makes him a possible candidate for involvement in the creation of the Book of Kells, traditionally believed to have been produced at Iona. In a lecture of 2011 Arne Kruse argued:

    The organisation of what was tremendous artistic activity on Iona sometime in the second half of the eighth century would have been an economic and logistical challenge. The effort must have been conducted by an inspired leader with extraordinary managerial and artistic skills. The one in charge would have been the scribnidh or scribe of the community, an office which carried equal importance to that of the abbot. The scribe behind the tribute in copper, stone and vellum is anonymous. However, if it is correct that the intense artistic activity may have taken place toward the end of the eighth century, there is a chance that the mastermind could have been Connachtach, ‘an eminent scribe and abbot of Ia’, who, according to the Annals of Ulster, died in 802, possibly during the Viking raid that very year. It is rare to hear of scribes in the annals, and the mention of Connachtach could be because he was murdered, although the murder itself is not mentioned. On the other hand, it can also be that Connachtach was such an extraordinarily brilliant scholar, artist and coordinator that his death merited a note.

    Arne Kruse, ‘Columba and Jonah – a motif in the dispersed art of Iona’, Northern Studies, vol. 45, (2013), 18.

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  • Saint Banbán the Wise, May 9

    May 9 is the feast of Saint Banbán, whom the calendars dub ‘the Wise’ (Latin, sapiens). He is one of a number of saints who share this ancient name, as the online version of the nineteenth-century Cyclopedia of Biblical, Theological, and Ecclesiastical Literature edited by John McClintock and James Strong helpfully lists:

    Banban

    In Irish hagiology there are several Banbans given.

    (1.) Two of these are probably the same person, Banban the Wise, attached to separate days, May 1 and 9. Colgan (Tr. Thaum. p. 176) is of the opinion that the Banbanum to whom St. Patrick committed the Domnach Mor, or large basilica in Magh-Sleacht, was Banban the Wise. He also supposes him to have been a son of Richella, sister of St. Patrick. In Tr. Thaum he is called presbyter, but at May 1 the Mart. Tallaght calls him bishop.

    (2.) Bishop of Leithglinn, commemorated Nov. 26; the abbot of Claenadh (Clane, County Kildare), who died A.D. 777.

    (3.) Another bishop, put by Mart. Doneg., etc., on Dec. 3.

    Canon O’Hanlon rather adds to the confusion in the entry for Saint Banbán in the May volume of his Lives of the Irish Saints. For he seeks to equate him with a scribe of Kildare and insists that he is also known as Colmán:

    Article III. St. Colman, Banban, the Wise, Supposed to have been Scribe of Kildare. 
    [Seventh and Eighth Centuries.]

    By Colgan, the holy Colman is identified with a Banban, or a Banan, venerated at the 1st of this month. There, his pedigree has been given, and as has been stated, he belonged to the Nan-Decies race. However, this does not seem to be very certain. Referring to the Martyrology of Tallagh, and to other Irish Martyrologies, the Bollandists commemorate Banbhanus or Banuanus Sapiens, at this day. He is thought, by Colgan, to have been a relation of St. Patrick, and to have been that faithful prophet alluded to in the Acts of the great Irish Apostle. In the Martyrologies of Tallagh and of Donegal, his name is simply entered as Banban, “the sage,” or “the wise.” It is probable, this was the name by which he was best distinguished; but, he appears to have been known as Colman, likewise, and as there were many saints so denominated in our calendars, his skill as a scribe may have determined the additional appellative. He died, on the 9th of May, A.D. 720 if, as seems probable, he was the St. Colman Banban, scribe of Cill-dara. The Annals of Ulster and Archdall place his death at 724.

    So, as we can see, there are differing traditions surrounding the figure of Saint Banbán, the Wise. Pádraig Ó Riain in his authoritative 2011 Dictionary of Irish Saints feels that it is telling that today’s May 9 feast is the octave day of May 1 and that both days commemorate the same individual. He also feels that the Saint Banbán, Bishop of Leighlin, commemorated on November 26, is a further feast of the same holy man.

     

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  • The Saints and Animals

    The theme of ‘saints and beasts’ is a common one in hagiography where the interaction between holy men and women and the animal creation form some of the best-known and well-loved episodes in the Lives of the saints. Although stories of Irish saints and animals form a staple of anthologies of ‘Celtic Christianity’, this tradition is not exclusive to Ireland. Its origins are found in eastern Christianity among the Desert Fathers where a raven brings food to Saint Anthony and Saint Paul of Thebes and where the Great Martyrs such as Saint George and Saint Margaret of Antioch battle dragons and other fierce beasts. The tradition translated very readily to western Europe and below is an extract from a paper on ‘The Saints and Animals’ published in 1909 in the Paulist periodical The Catholic World by Irish writer Katharine Tynan (1859-1931). In her essay she combines some of the most famous Irish stories, such as that of Saint Kevin and the blackbird, with lesser-known stories of Saint Adamnan and Saint Beanus:

    A very distinguished Irishwoman, now dead, said to me many years ago that the old Irish saints were always preaching by their example the love of animals, and that fact proved to her mind that the preaching was no less needed in their day than in ours. But I am inclined to believe that the Irish saints, like the saints of other countries, loved animals just because they were the elect souls of the world. In those days gentleness betook itself to hermitages and cloisters, leaving the rough and the violent to carry on the world. In their hermitages these simple and saintly souls made companions of the animals, and came to love them, simplicity leaning to simplicity. Indeed one imagines that in our own days there may be many such instances in monastic life of friendship between men and animals as are recorded in the Acta Sanctorum. One who knows anything of monasteries will know how the cloistered monk keeps a heart like a child…
     
    …The lives of the saints contain the most delicious innocencies of the friendship and affection between them and the animals. Every one knows St. Francis of Assisi and his little brothers and sisters. Not so many know St. Jerome and his lion, St. Anthony the hermit and his hog, St. Benedict and his raven, St. Macarius and his hyena, St. Kieran and his badger, St. Rose of Lima and her gnats. Indeed the Acta Sanctorum contain records of friendship between the saints and the most unlikely creatures, even to snakes and vipers.
    In the Irish hagiology we find our father, St. Patrick, carrying a fawn in his breast after he had saved the little creature and its mother from death.

     

    While St. Kevin prayed in his cell that looks upon the dark waters of Glendalough, he stretched his hand through the window-space, and a blackbird immediately laid an egg in his hand and sat upon it. The saint forbore to disturb the sitting mother till the little bird was hatched, keeping his hand so stretched forth till that was accomplished.

    Another Irish saint, St. Kieran of Upper Ossory, worked his first miracle as a child when he saw a hawk swoop on and carry off a little bird. St. Kieran at this time did not know the true God, being the child of pagans, but he was moved to cry out to Him, and the hawk came back and laid the dead bird at his feet. Then Kieran said: “Arise and be made whole;” and so it was done, and the bird lived and gave praise to God.

     
    The life of St. Kieran, in the Gaelic, says with delicious naivete :
     
    “When first Ciaran came to that place (i.e. the wood where he built his monastery) he sat down in the shade of a tree. A fierce wild hog sprang up at the other side of the tree and as it eyed Ciaran it fled, but returned again as a gentle servant to Ciaran. That hog was the first disciple and first monk Ciaran had in that place. It used to go to the wood to cut rods for thatch, and bring them between its teeth to assist (the building of) the cell. At the time, then, there was no one at all along with Ciaran, for he came alone from his disciples to that hermitage. There came after that to Ciaran irrational brutes from every part of the wilds in which they were located, such as the fox, the badger, the wolf, and the doe, and they were submissive to Ciaran; and they humbled themselves to his teaching as monks, and used do all he bade them.

     

    “On a day that the fox came, which was very ravenous, crafty, and malicious, to Ciaran’s brogues, he stole them, and, shunning the community, went direct to his own den, and therein coveted to eat the brogues. When this was manifested to Ciaran he despatched another monk of his family, to wit, the badger, to head the fox and bring him to the same spot. The badger came to the fox’s den and found him eating the shoes (or brogues), for he had eaten the ears and thongs off; and the badger coerced him to come with him to the monastery. They came about eventide to Ciaran, and the brogues with them. Ciaran said to the fox ‘ O brother, why hast thou done that thievery which was not becoming a monk to do? And you had no occasion to do that; for we have water that is non-noxious in common, and food in like manner, and if thy nature constrained that thou shouldst prefer to use flesh, God would make it of the bark of the trees round thee.’ Then the fox asked Ciaran for remission of his sins, and to lay upon him the obligations of the Penance Sentence; and it was so done, and the fox did not eat food without leave from Ciaran, and thenceforward he was righteous like the others.”

    Here is a story of a less well-known Irish saint, St. Gobnet the little patroness of Ballyvourney, after whom so many County Cork girls are called, and which is Englished “Abby.” She was the daughter of a sea-king, who was a shrine robber. She had no sisters, and used to keep to the ship with her father and his men. Once she was ashore in a wood and God sent his angel to her to tell her to fly from her father and give her life to Him. She was willing to do that, but she knew no place of security. The angel came again, and told her to go on and give no rest to her soles until she would find nine white deer asleep. She went on and she came to a place and found three. She fondled them a while and went on to Kilgobnet, where she found six. Here she stayed a long time until they were all good friends. Then she left her heart with them and went on to Ballyvourney. There, as God willed it, she found the nine, and she made her dwelling with them, and they became her sisters, and she died in their midst and is there buried.

    We read of St. Bridget that the ducks from the lake came at her voice and flew into her arms, and that the saint gently caressed them against her breast. And again when she was a child, and in much terror of a very fierce stepmother, she was left to tend a dish of meat that was cooking for her father and his friends. But a dog which had just become the mother of puppies came and begged to be fed; and Bridget’s heart was so compassionate that she could not refrain from feeding the dog with the meat her stepmother had given her in charge, although she anticipated nothing but a savage punishment. But when the time came to set the dish on the table, lo! and behold, the meat had increased instead of diminishing, and was of a most excellent flavor. So did God reward her charity to the hungry dog.

    Here is a delightful story of St. Adamnan, Bishop of Iona: 
     

    “A Brother, by name Molua, grandson of Brennus, came to the Saint while he was writing, and said to him: ‘Please bless this weapon in my hand.’ So he raised his holy hand a little and blessed it, making the sign of the cross with his pen, his face meanwhile being turned towards the book upon which he was writing. As the aforesaid Brother was on the point of departing with the weapon which had been blessed, the Saint inquired: What kind of a weapon have I blessed for the Brother? Diarmid, his faithful servant, replied: ”A dagger for cutting the throats of oxen and bulls.’ But the Saint said in response: ‘I trust in my God that the weapon which I blessed will injure neither man nor beast.’ And the Saint’s words proved true that very hour. For after the same Brother had left the monastery enclosure and wanted to kill an ox, he made the attempt with three strong blows and a vigorous thrust, but could not pierce its skin. And when the monks became acquainted with it, they melted the metal of the same dagger by the heat of the fire and anointed with it all the iron weapons of the monastery ; and they were thereafter unable to inflict a wound on any flesh, in consequence of the abiding power of the Saint’s blessing.”

     
    I need not refer here to the better known stories, such as the story of St. Columba and the gull and the same saint and the horse. But an extract from Giraldus Cambrensis shows how a nineteenth century thought for animals in England was anticipated by the Ulstermen of his day. 

    “In a remote district of Ulster are certain hills, on which cranes and other birds build their nests freely during the proper season. The inhabitants of that place allow not only men but even cattle and birds to be quiet and undisturbed, out of reverence for the holy Beanus, whose Church makes the spot famous. That renowned Saint, in a wonderful and strange manner, used to take care not only of birds but of their eggs.

    “In the south of Momonia, between the hill of Brendan and the open sea which washes the coast of Spain and Ireland, is a large district which is shut in on one side by a river full of fish, and on the other by a small stream. And, out of reverence for the holy Brendan and other Saints of that locality, this affords a wonderful place of refuge, not only for men and cattle, but also for wild beasts, whether these are strangers or those which inhabit the district. Consequently stags, wild boars, hares, and other wild beasts, when they perceive that they can by no means escape from the dogs pursuing them, make their way as quickly as they can from remote parts to that spot. And when they have crossed the stream, they are at once safe from all danger; for the dogs in hunting are there brought to a standstill and unable to follow any further.”

    So much for the Irish saints. But their brethren of other lands were not behind them; and it may be said that there was no creature exempt from their pity and protection….

    Katharine Tynan, The Saints and Animals, The Catholic World, Vol. LXXXVII (September, 1908), 803-816.

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