Celtic Saints of Ireland E-Book

Elizabeth Rees

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Most books about Celtic saints are based on their legendary medieval lives. This book, however, is based upon our earliest surviving information: an examination of the sites where these early Christians lived and worked. Archaeology, combined with the study of place names, inscribed stones and early texts, offers us important clues which help us to piece together something of the fascinating world of early Irish Christianity. Elizabeth Rees, an acknowledged authority on Celtic Christianity, has produced this insightful history which is the first in an exciting new series. Illustrated throughout with her own evocative photographs of where these saints resided and worked, the reader is drawn into the beautiful world which these men and women inhabited.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Title Page

Preface

1 Saints in the desert

2 Patrick and his followers

3 Some island monasteries

4 Brigit and other nuns

5 Early saints of Munster

6 Victims of plague

7 Brendan the Navigator

8 The Columban family

9 Three southern abbots

10 Saints of Lough Erne

11 Irish missionaries

12 Máelrúain and the Clients of God

Notes

Plate Section

Copyright

PREFACE

This book is written as an introduction to the Celtic saints of Ireland. With a very few exceptions, the monks who wrote the vitae, or biographies, of the Celtic saints lived many centuries later. It is therefore impossible to reconstruct the lives of these early monks and nuns, and so we can no longer view them except through medieval eyes. However, archaeology, the study of site, of place names, inscribed stones and early texts offer us clues about how these men and women lived.

As a student I was inspired by Derwas Chitty, who introduced me to the Desert Fathers, and I was held spellbound by the lectures of E.G. Bowen, whose infectious enthusiasm for landscape archaeology and the Celtic saints encouraged generations of scholars to develop and refine his ideas. This led me on a quest to visit the sites where devotion to our early Christian forebears is imprinted on the ground.

I am not primarily a scholar: after leaving Oxford University I entered monastic life, and my approach to the Celtic saints is therefore that of a vowed celibate woman, who has chanted the psalms daily. I have sat in a dark church in the early mornings, listening to hunks of scripture, allowing them to gradually reframe me, for such is the general aim. I know the joys and challenges of living in community alongside other vowed women, and this leads me to ask questions and explore possible answers from within a living tradition.

I read Latin but not Irish: for this I depend on colleagues who advise me. I am fortunate to know Jonathan Wooding, Karen Jankulak and Thomas O’Loughlin, and to have met with other scholars along the way. It is quite possible that your favourite saint does not appear in this book, because there are a vast number of early Irish saints. Those wishing to research their local saint are advised to consult Professor Pádraig Ó Riain’s Dictionary of Irish Saints (Four Courts Press, 2011). Within its 660 pages, almost all the known facts concerning over 1000 saints are accurately documented.

I am grateful to Dr Jonathan Wooding of the Centre for the Study of Religion in Celtic Societies at the University of Wales, Lampeter, for his helpful suggestions. Any errors are my own. I thank Thomas O’Loughlin, Professor of Historical Theology at Nottingham University, for permission to quote from his book, Saint Patrick: the man and his works. Thank you also to my sister, Frances Jones, for her two photos of The Seven Churches on the Aran Islands, and for scanning all the remaining photographs, which I took on my travels. My final thank you is to the saints who have enticed me to meet them ‘at home’ in the beautiful locations where they chose to live.

Map of Ireland, showing sites described in the text.

1

SAINTS IN THE DESERT

Sainthood

Most of the men and women whom we call the Celtic saints were monks and nuns. What did they think about sainthood? Their viewpoint was different from ours, because most of Church history had not yet happened. There were only four or five centuries of Christian men and women who could serve as models for holy living, and the more heroic among them had been martyred. While early monks and nuns may have read the Acts of the Martyrs, these accounts focussed on a martyr’s death, rather than their life; they could not really be imitated.

Again, there were few models to imitate in the gospels: the first followers of Jesus are briefly described, but they are portrayed as disciples, rather than as people in their own right. We learn little about their personal holiness. The scriptures were written before monasteries existed, so where could models of holiness in a monastic context be found? St Paul does describe a Church in which virgins and widows have an accepted place; he does not, however, describe these women as people. To whom, then, did the Celtic saints look for examples of holy living?

Old Testament models

Celtic monks and nuns were deeply influenced by the Old Testament, since they were closer to it in time than we are. They were also, perhaps, better able to understand the mentalities and cultures of those who compiled the books within it. As Christians, of course, the gospels formed the foundation of their spiritual lives, and particular texts were held dear. Jesus had said ‘If you wish to be perfect, go and sell what you own and give the money to the poor, … then come, follow me’ (Mt. 19. 21),1 and this is what monks and nuns tried to do. They often lived in groups; they came together and listened to the word of God, in order to ‘be perfect’, ‘come’ and ‘follow’.

There was a model for this in the Old Testament: the First and Second Book of Kings describe brotherhoods of prophets who lived in the desert in quite large groups. Sometimes it is a group of fifty (2 Kgs. 2. 7; 17), under the leadership of someone wise and experienced, in this case Elijah, and his disciple Elisha, in the ninth century BC. Celtic monks could identify with a community who lived apart from society, under the authority of a holy person. As they listened to passages from scripture, read to them in church, day after day, they could connect with their Jewish-Christian heritage.

They knew that Jesus had pondered on the ministry of Elijah and Elisha, and had copied them too. Like Elisha, Jesus healed lepers, and he raised a widow’s son to life, as both prophets had done. Luke portrays Jesus challenging the people of Nazareth by likening himself to his two great predecessors:

There were many widows in Israel, I can assure you, in Elijah’s day, when heaven remained shut for three years and six months and a great famine raged throughout the land, but Elijah was not sent to any of these: he was sent to a widow at Zarephath, a Sidonian town. And in the prophet Elisha’s time there were many lepers in Israel, but none of these was cured, except the Syrian, Naaman (Lk. 4. 25–7).

When Jesus asked his disciples who people thought he might be, they replied: ‘some say John the Baptist, some Elijah … or one of the prophets’ (Mt. 16. 14).

Call to discipleship

Celtic monks would have resonated with the touching description of Elisha’s unexpected call to leave his family in order to serve God. They would have understood his initial hesitation, followed by his generous response. As Elijah passed by, wearing his ‘cloak of hair’ and ‘leather loincloth’ (2 Kgs. 1. 8), he threw his cloak over Elisha, to claim him for God. Elisha appears to have been the model for the ‘rich young man’ of Matthew 19. 21: as a wealthy farmer, he owned twelve yoke of oxen. Yet unlike the rich man in Matthew’s gospel who ‘went away sad, for he was a man of great wealth’, Elisha responded to Elijah’s invitation. Like each Celtic monk, he underwent conversion, and exchanged his yoke of oxen for a life of discipleship under the yoke of a holy man:

… [Elijah] came to Elisha son of Shaphat as he was ploughing behind twelve yoke of oxen, he himself being with the twelfth. Elijah passed near to him and threw his cloak over him. Elisha left his oxen and ran after Elijah. ‘Let me kiss my father and mother, then I will follow you,’ he said. Elijah answered, ‘Go, go back; for have I done anything to you?’ Elisha turned away, took the pair of oxen and slaughtered them. He used the plough for cooking the oxen, then gave to his men, who ate. He then rose, and followed Elijah and became his servant (1 Kgs. 19. 19–21).

The prophets model holiness

The so-called Elijah Cycle (1 Kgs. 17. 1 – 2 Kgs. 1. 18) and Elisha Cycle (2 Kgs. 2. 1 – 13. 21) recall the vitae, or Lives of Celtic saints: they were composed long after the deaths of their subjects, but they attempt to convey their core values and their holiness, for the edification of later generations of believers. We read of the miracles of Elijah and Elisha, which are often a compassionate response to the needs of a poor person or a local king. As in the vitae, the prophets are caught up in a world of intrigue and politics, and fearlessly challenge those in authority. Disciples are sent on errands by Elisha (2 Kgs. 9. 1–10), who himself learnt discipleship by washing the hands of Elijah (2 Kgs. 3. 11). The brotherhood makes simple mistakes: one of them unintentionally poisons the soup he has prepared, but Elisha makes it wholesome through his prayer (2 Kgs. 4. 38–41).

The Near Eastern Desert Fathers of the fourth century in some ways modelled their lives on these early prophets, and this may have been the reason that we find echoes of the prophets in the vitae of Celtic saints. In his Life of Antony, Athanasius records how ‘Antony said to himself: “It is by looking at what the great Elijah does, as in a mirror, that the ascetic can always know what his own life should be like”.’2 The story of Antony’s friend, Paul the Hermit, fed by a bird, reminds us of Elijah, whom God protects during a lengthy drought:

The word of the Lord came to [Elijah]: ‘Go away from here, go eastward and hide yourself in the wadi Cherith which lies east of Jordan. You can drink from the stream, and I have ordered the ravens to bring you food there.’ He did as the Lord had said; … The ravens brought him bread in the morning and meat in the evening, and he quenched his thirst at the stream (1 Kgs. 17. 2–6).

In the same way, according to Jerome’s Life of Paul, based on a Greek original, a raven brought half a loaf of bread each day to feed the hungry hermit.

Life in the desert

Elijah and Elisha were not the only Old Testament figures who offered inspiration to early Christians; if anything, life in the desert is a more constant theme. Discouraged by failure, Elijah journeys south through the desert, and climbs Mount Sinai. He hides in the cleft of the rock where Moses had crouched before him, and there God once again reveals his glory (1 Kgs. 19. 9; Ex. 33. 22). At the end of the Old Testament, the First Book of Maccabees, written in the second century BC, describes how the persecuted believers go and live in the desert:

Mattathias went through the town, shouting at the top of his voice, ‘Let everyone who has a fervour for the Law and takes his stand on the covenant come out and follow me.’ Then he fled with his sons to the hills, leaving all their possessions behind in the town. At this, many who were concerned for virtue and justice went down to the desert and stayed there (1 Mac. 2. 27–9).

While these various Old Testament figures may have provided role models for Celtic monks, they offer us few clues about what went on in the heads and hearts of Celtic holy men and women. What were their values, and what governed their behaviour? How did they learn holiness? How did they become saints? In order to address these questions, we shall now look more closely at the traditions of the Desert Mothers and Fathers, who ‘went down to the desert and stayed there’ from the mid-third century AD onwards.

The Saying of the Desert Fathers

The Desert Mothers and Fathers were saints who immediately preceded those of Celtic times, and profoundly influenced them. The Apothegmata, or Sayings of the Desert Fathers, are brief anecdotes which were handed down as useful guidelines and cherished memories of the holy men and women who lived in the Near Eastern deserts. Collections of their Sayings were popular throughout medieval times, and they offer a unique range of personal beliefs and testimonies. They were treasured as advice on how to acquire holiness, and because of their brevity they could be memorised and pondered.

Stability

A number of the Sayings address the issue of stability, which has concerned monks down the ages. First, each monk built his hut. This was the place where he would discover himself and discover God: ‘A brother came to Scetis to visit Abba Moses and asked him for a good word. The old man said to him: “Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything”.’3 It was not a good idea to move from place to place. ‘An old man said: “Just as a tree cannot bring forth fruit if it is always being transplanted, so the monk who is always going from one place to another is not able to bring forth virtue”.’4 If you stayed away from your cell, you would die, like a fish on dry land. Athanasius records that Antony said: ‘When fishes are out of water for some time, they die. So it is if monks stay a long time … out of their monastery’.5

Learning from others

However, you had to learn more about your new lifestyle somehow. You had to go and ask advice from those older and wiser than you. Dorotheus of Gaza said: ‘To stay in one’s hut is one half; and to go and see the old men is the other half’. It was a good idea to start off living as a disciple of one of them, so you could get a good grounding which would last a lifetime: ‘Abba Isaiah said … to those who were making a good beginning by putting themselves under the direction of the holy Fathers: “As with purple dye, the first colouring is never lost”.’6

Later, you might live on your own, but even then, if you began to lose your sense of direction and became hardened, it was a good idea to go and join a wiser person than you: ‘A brother asked Abba Paesios, “What should I do about my soul, because it is insensitive and does not fear God?” He replied, “Go and join a man who fears God, and live near him. He will teach you also to fear God”.’

But in general you should work out your own spiritual way, ascetic or less so, according to your temperament. ‘Abba Mark once said to Abba Arsenius, “It is good, is it not, to have nothing in your hut that gives you pleasure? For example, I once knew a brother who had a little wild flower that came up in his hut and he pulled it out by the roots”. “Well,” said Abba Arsenius, “That is all right. But each man should act according to his own spiritual way. And if one were not able to get along without the flower, he should plant it again”.’7

Trusting one’s judgment

It was foolish to let an unwise person be your guide: ‘A brother questioned Abba Poeman, saying, “I am losing my soul through living near my abba; should I go on living with him?” The old man knew that he was finding this harmful, and he was surprised that he even asked if he should stay there. So he said to him, “Stay if you want to.” The brother left him, and stayed on there. He came back again and said, “I am losing my soul.” But the old man still did not tell him to leave. He came back a third time and said, “I really cannot stay there any longer.” Then Abba Poeman said, “Now you are saving yourself; go away and do not stay with him any longer,” and he added, “When someone sees that he is in danger of losing his soul, he does not need to ask advice”.’8

Be silent and unknown

You could best find peace if you remained silent and unknown: ‘Once a judge of the province came to see Abba Simon. The old man took off his leather girdle, and climbed a palm tree and began to prune it. When the people came up to him they said, “Where is the old man who lives in solitude here?” Abba Simon answered, “There is no solitary here”. The judge went away.’9

It was better to be silent than to discuss even spiritual matters: ‘Three Fathers used to go and visit blessed Antony every year, and two of them used to discuss their thoughts and the salvation of their souls with him, but the third always remained silent, and did not ask him anything. After a long time, Abba Antony said to him, “You often come here to see me but you never ask me anything,” and the other replied, “It is enough for me to see you, Father”.’10

Prayer

In your silence, prayer could flourish. Prayer would teach you everything: ‘One of the elders said, “Pray attentively, and you will soon straighten out your thoughts”.’ Manual work helped one to pray: ‘Someone asked a monk: “What must we do to be saved?” He was busy weaving baskets. Without even raising his eyes, he replied: “Do as you see”.’11

By making ropes to be sold for the poor, one could cleave to God: ‘A camel driver came one day to collect a bundle of ropes from Abba John the Dwarf. The monk went into his hut to fetch them, and forgot about him, his mind being set on God. The camel driver then knocked on his door. Again John came out, went in, and forgot. The camel driver knocked a third time, and again John came out. He went in again repeating “ropes, camel, ropes, camel”, and so he managed to remember.’12

Another saying highlights the value of prayer: ‘An old man came to see one of the Fathers, who cooked a few lentils and said to him, “Let us say a few prayers,” and the first completed the whole psalter, and the brother recited the two great prophets by heart. When morning came, the visitor went away and they forgot the food’.13 However, no one should be forced to pray: ‘Some old men came to see Abba Poeman and said to him, “When we see the brothers who are dozing at the Prayers, should we wake them up so they will be more watchful?” He replied, “Well, when I see a brother who is dozing, I put his head on my knees, so he can rest”.’14

Kindness

Charity was more important than an austere life. ‘A brother came to visit Abba Macarius. After prayer he said: “Father, it is now forty years since I stopped eating meat, and I am still tempted by it”. Macarius replied: “Don’t say that to me but, I pray you, tell me: how many days have you spent without slandering your brother, without judging your neighbour?” The brother bowed his head and said, “Pray for me, Father, so that I may begin”.’15

We should all think first of one another’s needs: ‘A brother brought a bunch of grapes to Abba Macarius, but he took it to another brother, who seemed more sick. The sick man thanked God for his brother’s kindness, but took it to someone else, and he did the same. So the bunch of grapes was passed all around the cells, scattered over the desert, until at last it reached Abba Macarius again.’16

Such generosity was not achieved without a struggle, and it was never achieved completely. ‘Abba Abraham said: “The passions live. In the saints they are only to some extent bound”.’17 A brother who was disturbed in mind went to Abba Theodore of Pherme and told him that he was troubled. Abba Theodore said, “Tell me now, how many years have you worn that habit?” The brother answered, “Eight”. The old man replied, “Believe me, I have worn the habit seventy years, and have not yet found peace for a single day. Would you have peace in eight?”’18

Attitudes to women

The presence of groups of holy women living in the desert could pose problems for celibate men. Some of the Sayings reflect this: ‘A nun was travelling with other sisters when she met a monk. When he caught sight of her, he made a detour. The nun told him: “If you were a true monk, you would not have even noticed that we were women”.’19

Cassian relates how a monk could not bear to see the face, or even the clothes of a woman. One day he met a woman on his way, and fled to his monastery ‘with as much speed and haste as if he had met a lion or a dragon’. Later, this monk became totally disabled. Not knowing how to nurse him themselves, the monks took him to a convent of nuns, where the nuns devoted themselves to his care for four years, until he died in their arms.20

At peace with animals

Athanasius wrote of Antony: ‘It was an astonishing fact that alone in the desert, in the presence of so many wild beasts, he was not afraid of their ferocious nature; wild beasts lived at peace with him’. He describes how the animals obeyed Antony: ‘The desert animals came to drink nearby, and they damaged Antony’s young plants and seeds. But he gently took hold of one of the animals and told them all: “Why do you harm to me? I have done nothing to you. Go, and in the Lord’s name, do not come back here again”. And after that they kept away, as if they had heard what Antony said to them’.21

In other stories, lions wait on the monks, helping them fetch water and leading the donkey to pasture. Abba Agathon went to live in a cave in the desert, which already sheltered a large serpent. The snake, politely, wanted to leave, to give the monk some space, but Agathon was not to be outdone in politeness. He said: ‘If you go, I won’t settle here’. So the serpent stayed, and they both fed off a nearby sycamore tree.22

Love

In the end, love was all that mattered: ‘Abba Pambo said, “If you have a heart, you can be saved”.’23 Love knows no half measures: those who give everything to God become irradiated by grace. ‘Abba Lot went to see Abba Joseph and said to him, “Abba, as far as I can, I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I live in peace and as far as I can, I purify my thoughts. What else can I do?” Then the old man stood up and stretched his hands towards heaven. His fingers became like ten lamps of fire, and he said: “If you will, you can become all flame”.’24

Nevertheless, greater love might be shown by leaving one’s prayers and welcoming a visitor: ‘A brother went to see an anchorite, and as he was leaving said to him, “Forgive me, abba, for having taken you away from your rule.” But the other answered him, “My rule is to refresh you and send you away in peace”.’25

Monastic pilgrims

Hermits offered peace and refreshment not only to brother monks but also to strangers and pilgrims. Some European monks and nuns visited the Near-Eastern deserts: to undertake such a pilgrimage was a profound and life-changing experience. At the end of the fourth century, an Italian monk, Rufinus of Aquileia, recalled his stay in Egypt: ‘When we came near, they realised that foreign monks were approaching, and at once they swarmed out of their cells like bees. They joyfully hurried to meet us.’ Rufinus was deeply impressed by the solitude he found: ‘This is the utter desert, where each monk lives alone in his cell … There is a huge silence and a great peace there.’26

Egeria

Egeria was probably a nun from a community in Galicia, in north-west Spain, who went on pilgrimage to the Near East in the 380s. Wishing to immerse herself in the Old and New Testaments, she travelled first to the Sinai desert, and continued to Jerusalem and then Constantinople. She wrote an account of her travels for her sisters back at home, part of which survives. A seventh-century Galician monk, Valerio of Bierzo, wrote a letter in praise of Egeria, urging others to copy her example. He describes the motivation for such a journey, for which Egeria prepared by studying the scriptures:

In the strength of the glorious Lord, she fearlessly set out on an immense journey to the other side of the world … First with great industry she perused all the books of the Old and New Testaments, and discovered all its descriptions of the holy deserts. Then in eager haste (though it was to take many years) she set out, with God’s help, to explore them …

Sixth-century monastery of St Catherine, at the foot of Mount Sinai.

Moved by the longing for a pilgrimage to pray at [Sinai] the most sacred Mount of the Lord, she followed in the footsteps of the children of Israel when they went forth from Egypt. She travelled into each of the vast wildernesses and tracts of the desert which are set forth in the Book of Exodus.27

Egeria’s own account of her pilgrimage survives in part, in a manuscript likely to have been copied by a monk at Monte Cassino in the eleventh century. She describes Mount Sinai, and the monks she met there:

Here then, impelled by our God and assisted by the prayers of the holy men who accompanied us, we made the great effort of the climb … And when with God’s help we had climbed right to the top and reached the door of [the] church, there was the presbyter, the one who is appointed to the church, coming to meet us from his cell. He is a healthy old man, a monk from his boyhood and an ‘ascetic’ as they call it here – in fact, just the man for the place. Several other presbyters met us too, and all the monks who lived near the mountain, or at least all who were not prevented from coming by their age or their health …

Our way out took us to the head of this valley, because there the holy men had many cells, and there is also a church there at the place of the Bush (which is still alive and sprouting) …, the Burning Bush out of which the Lord spoke to Moses, and it is at the head of the valley with the church and all the cells.28

Colour plate 1 depicts hermits’ caves in Wadi Fayran, near Mount Sinai. Close by are the remains of a fifth-century monastery for women, where a few Orthodox nuns still live and pray.

Cassian

The most popular accounts of the Near Eastern monasteries were those of John Cassian, whose works became well known in Gaul, and also in Ireland. With a companion, Cassian set out for Egypt in about 385, and spent fifteen years learning from the monks and nuns whom he met. After a further twenty years of reflection on his experience, Cassian wrote his Institutes and Conferences for a monastery near Marseilles in about 425. In these books, he explained the aims and methods of monastic life; he helped western Christians to understand the life of eastern, Greek-speaking monks, and to adapt it to their own very different conditions. Cassian’s Latin writings were circulated widely and were eagerly read.

Why the desert?

The Old Testament was very real for early Christians, who lived in a biblical landscape. Later monks and nuns entered the Old Testament through chanting the psalms and listening to the scriptures. They came to see themselves as God’s Chosen People, and they developed a spirituality of the desert. They saw themselves as descendants of the children of Israel, rescued from slavery in Egypt, and led by Moses into the Sinai desert, where they came to know their God. He miraculously fed them on manna and quails (Ex. 16. 1–21) and quenched their thirst with water (Ex. 17. 1–7). For forty years, God slowly fashioned them into a faithful people, who would bind themselves to him by a covenant, in a relationship as close as marriage.

The Old Testament prophets return to this theme: over the years, Israel has grown unfaithful, but God will lead them back into the desert, where he will once more become their husband. Even today, when a Bedouin couple marry, they go out from their settlement into the desert, where the villagers will have prepared a hut with bread and milk. The newlyweds will honeymoon in seclusion, and if they stay in the desert longer than expected, the villagers will bring them more provisions.

Some time after 750 BC, the Prophet Hosea depicts God enticing Israel, his bride, back to the desert:

I am going to allure her,

and bring her into the wilderness,

and speak tenderly to her …

There she shall respond

as in the days of her youth,

as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt.

On that day, says the Lord,

you will call me ‘My husband’ (Hos. 2. 16–18).29

To westerners the desert may be a hostile place, but to those who live there, it is home. For ancient Near-Eastern peoples, it was where one could honeymoon with God. The desert could be dangerous, but God was there. The evangelists depict Jesus preparing for his life’s work by spending forty days in the Judean desert, recalling the forty years that the Israelites wandered in the wilderness. Here, Jesus not only struggled with demons; he also encountered God. Mark relates: ‘The Spirit drove him out into the wilderness and he remained there for forty days, and was tempted by Satan. He was with the wild beasts, and the angels looked after him’ (Mk. 1. 12, 13).

Eastern monks and nuns went out into the desert not only to fight with demons, but also to encounter God and be transformed by this intimate experience. In the fourth century, Bishop Athanasius of Alexandria described how Antony of Egypt (c. 250–356) emerged, transformed, after twenty years alone in the desert: ‘His friends broke down the door by force. Antony came out … radiant as though from some shrine where he had been led into divine mysteries and inspired by God’.30 Western monks and nuns were motivated by the same desire as Antony and his friends: they chose an ascetical life in a deserted place in order to be irradiated by God.

Irish deserts

Desertum means ‘an empty place’, where a person could be alone with God. Ireland had no barren deserts like those inhabited by monks of the Near East, but there were always ‘empty places’ where a monk could find more time for solitary prayer. Early monks might establish a community and also build a hermitage for themselves at a more remote site, which became their díseart, or desert. ‘Déclán’s Desert’ in Ardmore is in a sheltered spot beside a spring, on a headland at a distance from his monastery (colour plate 2); the foundation will be described more fully in Chapter 5. A century later, Kevin of Glendalough chose his Desert on rising ground above the Upper Lake at Glendalough, a mile to the west of his monastery (colour plate 3).

In 1969, E.G. Bowen plotted a distribution map of almost 100 Irish sites named díseart or teampaill (an early word for ‘church’). Some sixty-five are concentrated in the third of the country which lies to the south of the great Central Plain. Bowen suggested a possible distinction between the great monasteries established by Finnian of Clonard in the Central Plain in the sixth and the seventh centuries, where fewer díseart sites are found, and the foundations close to the great rivers of the south, which might have received monastic ideas from Gaul at an earlier date.31

Castledermot

Díseart Diarmada, whose English name is Castledermot, was a monastery in Kildare which began as a hermitage established in 812 by a monk named Diarmaid, on the bank of the River Lerr, a tributary of the Barrow. Two fine high crosses and the base of a third survive at the site, carved in granite during the ninth century. Colour plate 4 depicts the east face of the north cross: its centre panel portrays Adam and Eve on either side of the tree of life. To the left, King David plays a harp as he chants the psalms which he composed: this is one of the few early depictions of an Irish harp. The image reminded the monks of their daily and nightly task of chanting the psalms. To the right, Abraham prepares to sacrifice his son, Isaac, foreshadowing the death of Christ on the cross.

The ‘desert’ theme is reflected on the panels of the high cross. In the central panel beneath the crucifixion scene on its west face, two of the Egyptian Desert Fathers, Antony and Paul the Hermit are depicted: a raven brings them a round loaf which they share. A panel at the base of the cross develops the theme, with a carving of the loaves and fishes which Jesus gave out to feed a multitude of hungry followers in the wilderness. Two similar panels feature on the east face of the south cross; its west face is covered with geometric designs.

Antony and Paul the Hermit break bread, north cross, Castledermot, Kildare.

Geometric designs, south cross, Castledermot, Kildare.

Later attacks

There is a round tower near the centre of the enclosure, which is unusual in that it is situated to the north of the church instead of to the west, and because its entrance is raised only slightly above ground level; it was therefore vulnerable to attack. It is built of granite blocks and smaller pieces of limestone, and is capped by battlements of unknown date. There are a number of Celtic grave markers in the circular graveyard. The community had a troubled history: it was plundered twice by Vikings in the ninth century, and burnt in 1106. It appears that Vikings eventually settled here as Christians, for the graveyard contains the only Irish example of a Scandinavian hogback tombstone.

2

PATRICK AND HIS FOLLOWERS

There were Christians in Ireland before the arrival of Patrick, but it is not known how strong their presence might have been, nor is it known how Christianity was brought to Ireland. While mainland Britain was largely Christianised simply by being part of the Roman Empire, Ireland developed rather differently. Britain’s Roman towns had bishops, who exercised pastoral care over the Church in their area, and continued to do so after the departure of the Romans. Since Ireland was never under imperial administration, it had no urban bishops. However, it was considerably influenced by Roman culture, and Christians from the Roman Empire travelled to Ireland from early times.

Roman influence in Ireland

In the mid-second century, Ptolemy named locations in Ireland, implying that traders visited its shores and were familiar with its place names. A hoard of fourth-century imperial gold coins and Roman pendants, also of gold, have been found in the passage grave of Newgrange in Meath; such finds suggest that Romanised Britons settled in Ireland and were buried there. Most of these Roman artefacts have been found in Leinster, the kingdom closest to south-east Britain, and in north-eastern Ireland, which was only a day’s sail from southern Scotland.

The Romanised families who settled in Ireland in the fourth century were probably traders who came from Britain and perhaps from Gaul. They would have controlled shipping and markets, and staffed establishments at the mouths of Ireland’s navigable rivers, in order to obtain goods from further inland. They spoke Latin, and employed native Irish who probably needed to write a little and count in Latin. There may also have been Irish soldiers serving in auxiliary cohorts of the Roman army in Britain and elsewhere. These men would return home when they had finished their service.

Latin words entered the Irish language at this time, including such military terms as arms and soldier, tribune and legion, wall and longship. The royal seat of Cashel in south-east Ireland derives its name from the Latin word castellum, meaning a fort. Other fourth-century Irish words were borrowed from Latin by traders: purple-dyed cloth, dish and brooch, quill pen and oven, and even days of the week, Wednesday and Saturday.1

At this time, Christians used Latin in worship, and it is likely that a number of Irish people were competent Latin speakers, particularly in the southern kingdoms of Munster and Leinster. This is where the greatest number of ogham-inscribed memorial stones are found; some are inscribed both in ogham and Latin. The concept of incised commemorative slabs came from the pagan Roman Empire, and ogham probably pre-dates the arrival of Christianity in Ireland. The inventors of this cryptic alphabet were familiar with the sound values of spoken Latin; the language may have been devised by Latin-speaking Irish intellectuals, perhaps even as early as AD 300. The alphabet uses the sound values of spoken Latin and consists of incised lines grouped along two adjacent sides of a stone slab. Strokes were easier to carve than the rounded letters of the Latin alphabet.

Ogham-inscribed stone, Ardmore Cathedral, Waterford.

An example of an ogham-inscribed stone can be seen in the chancel of the ruined cathedral at Ardmore, on the south coast, midway between Cork and Waterford. On the front face, an inscription reads up and then down, carved on two angles of the stone. It can be translated into Latin as: DOLATI LUGUDECCAS MAQI […MU] COINETA SEGAMONAS. In 1945, R.A.S. Macalister concluded that it means ‘Of Dolativix the smith, Lugud’s son, tribesman of Nia Segamain’.2 Smiths were valued members of Celtic society: they carved swords for war, elaborate jewellery for the high-born and cauldrons for food. Visible against the back edge of the stone in the photo, a second inscription intrudes upon the first. While the earlier one is pocked, this shorter inscription is chiselled, and reads: BIGA ISGOB …, which in Latin would read UICI EPISCOPUS, referring to a local bishop buried beneath the stone.

Christian words enter the Irish language

By the early fifth century, British Christians had introduced Latin words into Irish, amongst which are cresen (Christian) and domhnach (church, from the Latin dominica). Throughout Ireland, particularly in the south, there are, as we have seen, places named teampaill (from the Latin templum or church) and díseart (from the Latin desertum, or desert). Monks are also likely to have lived at sites containing the name-element uaimh (cave), and sometimes inis (island).

In names such as Kildare and Killarney, the name-element cill comes from the Latin cella, a word that described the huts or cells in which monks lived. Two thirds of the parishes with the prefix cill- are found in Leinster and Munster in the south-east, where there were monks. In Scotland, the name-element kil- is also common: Kilwinning, 25 miles south-west of Glasgow, means ‘cell of Finnian’ (perhaps the Irish monk, Finnian of Movilla).

Palladius

The chronicler Prosper of Aquitaine wrote that in AD 431, ‘Consecrated by Pope Celestine, Palladius is sent as the first bishop to the Irish who believe in Christ’. Pope Celestine had already sent Germanus of Auxerre (d. 446) to Britain on two missions to combat the heretical teaching of the Briton, Pelagius. The bishops held a conference at Verulamium, 25 miles north-west of London, where Germanus visited the tomb of St Alban, gathering some earth from his grave to take back to his new church in Auxerre. It was probably Germanus who recommended that Palladius, who may have been a deacon in his church at Auxerre, should go and work among the Irish ‘who believe in Christ’.

According to a tribute paid to him by Pope Celestine I, and described by Prosper in his work on Cassian entitled Contra Collatorem, Palladius spent a long time among the Irish. There may have been many Christians in Ireland before the arrival of Palladius since, as we have seen, numerous Latin loan words, mostly Christian, had already reached Ireland through the British language, probably from Wales, as early as the fourth century.

Patrick

While Palladius was sent as an emissary from Rome for the specific reason of dealing with heresy, Patrick was a local fifth-century bishop. Two of his works have survived: his Confessio and an Epistola, a letter to the soldiers of the tyrant, Coroticus. They provide the only testimony to Patrick as an historical figure, although recent scholars have questioned the authenticity of some passages in the Confessio concerning his family of origin and his birthplace. The earliest surviving manuscripts of the two works date from the ninth and tenth centuries, but Muirchú drew on both sources for his seventh-century Life of Patrick.