by John David Coupland.                                            

                                                                                                         www.johndavidcoupland.co.uk

    It was the dawn of the sixth century and on the edge of the Western Sea, as far from the great cities of the Old World as it was possible to be, lay Ireland, a green fertile island inhabited by a people descended from the heroes of ancient Troy. In the North of the island these tribes were collectively known as the Scots and to one of these tribes was born a son. Amidst great signs and wonders reminiscent of the Saviour’s birth, the boy Colum drew his first breath. He was of royal birth yet it was not in the courts of kings that you would find him. No it was in the house of God that he chose to spend his days. Yet although Ireland had been awash with the light of Christ since the days of Patrick, still the heart of Man was still a source of evil.

    As the years passed Columba or Columcille as he was commonly known, exhibited a great gift for evangelism planting more monasteries than the average squirrel plants oak trees! But as we mentioned earlier there is this vestige of evil, which lurks not just in the heart of you and I but even in the heart of Columba.

    Tell me have you ever been tempted to do something without asking permission? The reason we do not ask is that we ken well enough that the answer would be ,”No.” So we try to keep it secret and convince ourselves that no harm will be done. Harm is it? Aye and harm is what Columba caused and no mistake! While staying with his friend Fintan, he made a copy in his own hand of Fintan’s Book of Psalms. Whether Columba thought of asking permission we shall never know but the ownership of such a book conveyed great status to the owner and when Fintan demanded the copy Columba refused saying that the Word of God belonged to no man. This one spoke to that one to the next until all Ireland was in such uproar that the King himself quoting, “To every cow its calf,” judged against Columba. The outcome was hearth and home bereft of loved ones, fathers and sons of whom 4000 fell in battle over the book that is supposed to bring life.

    Now it is fair to say that, Inquisition aside, the Church has never been good at disciplining its own. Christ taught us to look for hope in the hopeless and to forgive first and ask questions afterwards. But the death in battle of four thousand souls could not be overlooked. Columba was duly brought to book and faced with excommunication or exile.
So it was that he along with twelve disciples made the voyage from Ireland to the land of the Picts. Legend also tells us that the boat had no rudder so it was by the providence of God that the group made landfall on Iona - the first land to the North from which Ireland cannot be seen.
Yet as Columba stood in the stony bay that still bears his name, looking at an island of hill and bog and so few trees that you would have no need to take off your shoes to count them, he felt the failure of his ministry weighing heavily upon him.. But you know, it is in such places of despair that the Lord meets us and reminds us that he is still in control and we have not really moved outside of his plan. In fact it is only when our self sufficiency fails us that he manages to get a look in!

    So what of Iona? The name means, “A jewel in the sea,” and it is very apt. On a warm summers day you could be fooled by the clear green sea, the white sands and the red rocks into believing that you were somewhere south of Rome. But when the clouds roll in from the angry ocean and the wind rips at your clothes, it can feel like one of the most God forsaken places on earth. Still it was to this outpost in the Atlantic that fell the honour of being home to Columba. Here each of the monks built his own cell, a circle of stones covered by turf and timbers brought over from nearby Mull. All of these gathered round two larger buildings - the eating hall and of course the church with its tall thin Celtic cross etched with the woven patterns of the Celts and crowned by the circle of the Sun. The cross itself representing the way that the beliefs of the old had not been conquered by Christianity but simply bound in holy wedlock.

    Even in the dark ages there was no such thing as bad publicity and a steady stream of visitors made the perilous trip to Iona. Some came to seek forgiveness and to do penance. Others sought advice or money. The first Columba gave freely, the second not at all. One poor man came seeking relief from his poverty and Columba made a wooden stake and blessed it saying to the man that whenever he looked he would find some creature impaled upon it. Sure enough the man’s poverty ceased from that day forth. He had enough for his family and spare to sell. But, after their dog impaled itself, his wife became terrified of the stake and implored her husband to destroy it. The poor wretch buried the stake and returned to the poverty he knew so well.
Another sad tale comes from a man who, realising that Columba could see the dying day of everyone, asked the time and means of his own death. Columba was loath to tell saying that, death casts sufficient shadow after the event without letting it darken the approach, but the man insisted. Columba said to him, “Your oldest, most trusted companion will slay you.” So from that day onwards the man forsook all friends, took no lovers and led a miserable solitary life.
Years later he was whittling on a piece of wood with his rusty old knife when two men behind him started to fight. Leaping to his feet he cut his leg with the knife, his festering wound never healed and he died within the month. His oldest companion had indeed been his downfall. These two stories prove that while we can give help and good advice to men only God can give them wisdom.

    Now at this point in history there was no such thing as Scotland or England. The island of Britain were divided between many ethnic groups, some tall and blonde, others dark and swarthy but all bland in appearance to the red haired, tartan clad Picts. These barbarians dwelt in the mountains and glens of the North and woe betide any who ventured into their fastness uninvited. Columba was however a well kent face to them having with remarkable foresight already parleyed with King Brude to build his monastery on Iona. While wars of religion seem to be without number this is more often the fault of the people who adhere to the faith rather than those who actually follow it! Columba saw his brand of Christianity as something that would bind the nations together not something which would tear them apart.

    Now with more clarity than today’s thinkers possess the Druids who effectively ruled over the Picts saw that there was only room for one religion, not two. They lived in a strict cast system and they stood to lose rank and privilege to gain what? Some cock and bull story about a man who rose from death!

    The Druids met and agreed to use all their magic, spells and powers to stop this Christian upstart who had already set out for Brude’s Castle at Inverness. Druid Broichan confronted Columba at the southern end of Loch Ness and charmed a gale to rise against him. Columba’s boat could not even leave the shore until the great man climbed into the prow and called upon the name of the Lord. Why linger? The boat not only set sail but made steady headway into the face of the wind showing the power of prayer to be superior to that of mere magic.

    As the long twilight or gloaming as the Scots call it settled the boatman put the monks ashore and returned to the village known now as Fort Augustus. A day’s trek brought the monks to the River Ness where it flows into the Loch at its northern end. There they found the locals burying the remains of a young man. The ferryman was not answering their cries and the youth had swum the river to fetch the ferry but some sea monster had attacked him and devoured half his body on the shore. Looking over his men Columba chose Lugne, a ships pilot, to swim the Ness. Perhaps it was the fact that Lugne (pronounced Loo- inn) was without a ship that made him expendable or maybe Columba knew that the lad’s faith was strong enough to brave the water. Lugne was in fact a little odd in appearance. One leg was distinctly shorter than the other and his head and body met without the itraditional use of a neck!

   When Lugne was half way across the monster appeared, raised itself from the water and prepared to strike. Raising his hand on the shore, Columba made the sign of the Cross and rebuked the beast in the name of Jesus. It was a mere spears length from Lugne but at once it turned and fled into the Loch not to be regarded as a survivor of an extinct species but an echo from the darkest recesses of the human mind.

    News of the confrontation spread like wild fire and by the time Columba reached Brude’s castle the gates were barred against him. Undaunted he and his small band did what they did best, they sang praises to the Lord. It is said that the sword of an angel split the beam which barred the gate in two allowing Columba to stride past the dumbfounded guards into the king’s presence.
So what came to pass in the king’s fortress? Did Columba demand the keys of the castle or lay down terms for surrender? No he went to the rooms of Broichan the Druid and prayed for his son who was near to death. The boy awoke and was in minutes returned to health. Further more Columba gave the Druid a white stone and told him to drink the water in which it floated and thereby Broichan’s own ailments were cured. As Jesus says anyone can love their friends but the Christian has to go further and love his enemies as well. By these acts of love the highlands were now open to the missionaries from Iona. And not only the highlands for the monks of Iona forayed deep into Europe, taking the good news of Jesus as far as Russia. They even went to the Angles of Northumbria but that is another tale. So now let us give glory to God for what he has done and for what he will do in times to come.
Amen.

The incidents in this tale are to be found in the first biography written for Columba by Aidan, ninth Abbot of Iona.

© John David Coupland 1999