Author: Michele Ainley

  • Saint Gall and the Miracle of the Fishes

     October 16 is the feast of Saint Gall, the Irish Apostle to Switzerland. I have previously introduced him and his formidable monastic superior, Saint Columbanus, here. The relationship between the two was not always a harmonious one and they eventually went their separate ways. My earlier post includes an account of a posthumous miracle of healing attributed to the intercession of Saint Gall, now we can look at another miracle in which he features. This one involves the catching of fish and was recorded in the Life of Saint Columban by the Monk Jonas. In the healing miracle Gall appears as the aged and venerable Abbot of the monastery which bears his name, but here he is at an early stage of his monastic career under the authority of his own master, Columbanus. This miracle is rich in scriptural allusions and echoes the Miraculous Draught of the Fishes recorded in chapter five of the Gospel of Saint Luke. There the disciples have been unsuccessfully trying for a catch throughout the night and are sceptical when Jesus commands them to let down their nets, but obeying find that they catch so many fish they can hardly bring them ashore. The Apostle Peter is overcome by his sense of unworthiness but is told “Fear not: from henceforth thou shalt catch men (Lk. 5:10). Since Columbanus and his companions had left Ireland to evangelize in continental Europe this analogy too is fitting. And, of course, when Saint Gall obeys his master the reward is great:

    19. At another time he [Columban] was staying in the same wilderness, but not in the same place. Fifty days had already elapsed and only one of the brethren named Gall was with him. Columban commanded Gall to go to the Brusch and catch fish. The latter went, took his boat and went to the Loignon river. After he had gotten there, and had thrown his net into the water he saw a great number of fishes coming. But they were not caught in the net, and went off again as if they had struck a wall. After working there all day and not being able to catch a fish, he returned and told the father that his labor had been in vain. The latter chid him for his disobedience in not going to the right place. Finally he said, “Go quickly to the place that you were ordered to try.” Gall went accordingly, placed his net in the water, and it was filled with so great a number of fishes, that he could scarcely draw it.

    D. C. Munro, ed., Translations and Reprints from the Original Sources of European History, Vol. II, Life of St. Columban, by the Monk Jonas, No. 7, (Univ. of Pennsylvania Press), p.12.

     

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  • 'A Vessel of Wisdom and a Man Full of the Grace of God': Saint Adamnan of Iona

    September 23 is the feast of Saint Adamnan, a seventh-century Donegal saint who was the ninth abbot of Iona and one of the most prominent churchmen of his time. I recently treated myself to a copy of a new book on the saint by Brian Lacey, Adomnán, Adhamhnán, Eunan: Life and afterlife of a Donegal Saint, published by Four Courts Press in May of this year and look forward to reading a modern scholar’s reappraisal of this fascinating man. Although he is generally best known as the hagiographer of and successor to Saint Colum Cille of Iona, there remains a more local aspect to the cult of Saint Adamnan who is the co-patron of the Donegal diocese of Raphoe, a connection which has a chapter of its own in Lacey’s book. In the seventeenth century Micheal O’Clery compiled The Martyrology of Donegal, whose entry for this day contains a summary of what had been handed down about local hero, Adamnan. It presents him as an abbot, ascetic, and mystic who is sustained by a vision of the Christ child for three days and who is further associated with an apocalyptic vision of heaven and hell. It concludes with a reference to the List of Irish Parallel Saints in which our native holy men are viewed as local equivalents of major Christian figures, with Saint Adamnan likened to Pope Sylvester:

    23. G. NONO KAL. OCTOBRIS. 23.

    ADAMNAN, son of Ronan, of the race of Conall Gulban, son of Niall, as to his stock. His mother was of the race of Enna, son of Niall. Ronat was her name. This is the Adamnan who was six and twenty years in the abbacy of I-Coluim-Cille. On a certain day that he was at Hi, he meditated in his mind to remain for three days and three nights in his church alone praying to the Lord, and he remained to the end of that time without coming to the monastery at all. They sent some mature men to the church to know how the cleric was, for they thought he was too long absent from them. They looked through the key-hole, and they saw a little boy with brilliance and bright radiance in the bosom of Adamnan. And Adamnan was thanking and caressing the infant; and they were not able to look at him any longer by reason of the divine rays which were around the boy. They were certain that it was Jesus who was in the shape of an infant, delighting Adamnan in this manner, and also that he was his satisfaction and gratification during these three days and nights.  He was a vessel of wisdom, and a man full of the grace of God, and of the knowledge of the holy Scriptures, and of every other wisdom; a burning lamp which illuminated and enlightened the west of Europe with the light of virtues and good morals, laws, and rules, wisdom and knowledge, humility and self-abasement. These are his churches, namely, Rathbhoth, Druim-Thuama, in Cinel-Conaill; The Scrin, in Tir Fhiachrach Muaidhe and other churches besides. Seventy-seven years was his age when he sent his spirit to heaven, His body was interred with great honour and respect at Hi, and his body was removed to Erin after some time.

    It was to Adamnan were revealed the glory of the kingdom of heaven and the pains of hell, as contained in the Vision of Adamnan,which was copied from the Leabhar-na-hUidhre.  And thenceforward it was the glory of heaven and the pains of hell he used to preach. The Life of Ciaran, of Cluain, states, chap. 47, that the order of Adamnan was one of the eight orders that were in Erin.

    A very ancient old-vellum-book, of which we have spoken at 1st of February, at Brighit, and at 17th March, at Patrick, and at 9th of June, at Colum Cille, &c., states, that Adamnan was, in his habits and life, like unto Silvester the Pope.

    J.H. Todd and W. Reeves, eds, John O’Donovan, trans. The Martyrology of Donegal: A Calendar of the Saints of Ireland, (Dublin, 1864) pp. 255-257.

     Dr Lacey comments:

    The Martyrology entry doesn’t tell us anything new or even anything very interesting about Adomnán, made up as it is of extracts from earlier texts and stock hagiographical phrases. But it does tell us how the great seventh-century Donegal intellectual and scholar, Adomnán,was perceived by one of the greatest intellectual and scholarly Irishmen, also from Donegal, about a thousand years later.

    Brian Lacey, Adomnán, Adhamhnán, Eunan: Life and afterlife of a Donegal Saint (Dublin, 2021), p. 214.

     

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  • The Prayer of Saint Atty

    A couple of days ago I reprinted a poem by Philadelphia resident Patrick J. Coleman on the founding of the diocese of Achonry by Saint  Nathy.  Now we have another of his poetic offerings, this time in praise of Achonry’s female patroness Saint Attracta and her role as peacemaker and protectress.

    THE PRAYER OF SAINT ATTY.*

    A LEGEND OF ACHONRY

    KING Connor made an edict old:
    “A royal palace I will build;
    Tribute I order of the gold,
    From every clan and craftsman’s guild.

    “Tithings of scarlet and of silk,
    Curtain and screen of regal woof
    Deep-uddered heifers, rich in milk,
    And bronze and timber for the roof.

    “From Leyney’s lord, in token due
    Of fealty, I will ordain
    A hundred masts of ash and yew,
    A hundred oaks of pithy grain.”

    “Saint Atty, keep us safe from scath
    And shield us in the battle crash!
    For roof of royal house or rath
    We will not render oak or ash!”

    Thus lowly prayed the Leyney clan,
    While sang the birds in bush and brake.
    As fast they mustered, horse and man,
    To face the foe by Gara’s lake.

    For, wroth’ at heart, came Connor’s clan;
    Ah, Christ! they made a horrid front,
    With red spears bristling in the van.
    And shields to brave the battle-brunt.

    From wing to wing in wrath they rolled,
    Crested with helmets all afire.
    Of burnished bronze or burning gold.
    To martial measures of the lyre.

    A dreadful war! the blessed saints
    Defend to-day the Leyney clan!
    For they must reel before the steel
    Of such a hosting, horse and man.

    From sounding sheaths the swords flamed out,
    The clattering quivers echoed loud,
    From their dark ranks the battle shout
    Broke out, as thunder from the cloud.

    “Saint Atty, keep us safe from scath!”
    Thus made the Leyney men their prayer ;
    When lo! adown the forest path
    Trooped, lily-white, a herd of deer!

    Broke from the branching thicket green,
    While mute the watching warriors stood;
    Such gracious deer were never seen
    In Irish fern or Irish wood;

    And, mighty marvel, on their backs.
    Bound by a maiden’s tresses gold.
    Clean-hewn as if by woodman’s axe.
    The tribute of the wood behold !

    Nor paused the sylvan creatures sweet,
    But gliding onward, like to ghosts.
    Cast off the wood at Connor’s feet
    In wondrous wise betwixt the hosts;

    Then vanished in the forest green.
    While mused amaze the king and kern;
    And nevermore from then were seen
    In Irish wood or Irish fern.

    Down dropped the sword to thigh and hip,
    “God’s will be done, let hatred cease!”
    Rose up the cry from every lip.
    And harps attuned a chord of peace.

    Yea, “blessings broke from every lip,
    To God and to His saints above.
    And hands that came for deadly grip
    Were mingled in fraternal love.

    ” ‘Gainst scath or scar our battle-shield
    Is Atty, saint of Leyney’s clan!”
    They sang, as homeward from the field
    They hied, unscathed, horse and man.

    For in her chapel in the wood
    The boding war had Atty seen,
    And for the people of her blood
    Made prayer amid the forest green.

    And men do say that on that day
    She saved the Leyney clan from scath,
    Such power there is when lowly pray
    The pure of heart and keen of faith.

    And still when autumn gilds the lea,
    And scythes are shrill in meadows ripe,
    The rural pageant you may see
    Sporting with jocund dance and pipe.

    The village women you may mark
    In Leyney, at Saint Atty’s well.
    Ere yet hath trilled the risen lark
    In golden mead or dewy dell.

    PATRICK J. COLEMAN.

    *Saint Atty is the loving name of the people of Achonry for Saint Attracta, the patroness of the diocese.

    The Irish Monthly, Volume 18 (1890),80-82 

     

     

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