Today is June 10, 2020 just one day after the feast of Saint Columba of Iona. Wouldn't it have been great if I had had the wherewithal to write this on the saint's actual feast day? As our hero Bob Ross would say "We don't make mistakes; we have happy little accidents." Join me on this happy little accident to learn a little about Columba the saint and the exile.
Columba was born in Ireland around 521 AD and when he came of age he joined a monastery to study for the priesthood. While a deacon he studied at the monastery in Clonard where he was trained in the traditions of the Welsh church, as the abbot had been brought up in the monastic schools of St. David of Wales. However, it was while at Moville Abbey (you couldn't throw a stone without hitting a monastery in those days), Columba's eye fell on an illuminated Book of the Psalms, and he wanted his own.
Illuminated books are copies of texts that have very fine detail as well as fanciful artwork and colors throughout. An illuminated text at this time would have been very valuable and even a centerpiece for a cathedral or monastic community. They were so special that they ended up being the impetus for pilgrimage and would draw the faithful (and their money and service) to those communities that were fortunate enough to have one. A great example and one of the most famous illuminated texts is the Book of Kells. (image below) Not only are they spiritually significant as copies of scripture, but they are also wonderful examples of Celtic artwork and culture for this time period.
Back to the story, one day Columba makes up his mind to borrow (steal) the book and, in modern lingo, he pirated it. Yes, like a college freshman on Pirate Bay our good saint ganked the Psalms from a monastery. At this point in history any sort of book was not all that easy to come by, so word must have spread pretty quickly that Columba is walking around with his own version of the illuminated Psalms. Today's equivalent might be, say, your pastor showing up in a new Ferrari. News finally reaches abbot Finnian who is not very impressed with Columba's handiwork and Finnian brings him before a judge. Thus, this dispute was about the ownership of the copy, whether it belonged to Saint Columba because he copied it or whether it belonged to Saint Finnian because he owned the original.
In my humble opinion, Columba had a really solid defense of his actions. He essentially says that, as he worked in the area of the abbey that copies books (scriptorium for you Latinophiles) that a.) he should be able to use the Psalter as the scriptures truly belong to God and b.) having his own Psalter would assist him in reaching out to others. Finnian would not buy it and neither would the king who was brought in as judge and arbiter. The king gave his judgement which has gone down through the annals of history as one of the earliest versions of copyright law: "To every cow belongs her calf, therefore to every book its copy." What happened next is debated by scholars. Legend has it that the quarrel between Finnian and Columba became so hostile that eventually their kinsmen fought it out during the battle of Cúl Dreimhne which came to be known as: "The Battle of the Book." Modern historians dispute the notion that this battle was ever over a book due to the lack of mentioning a book in any of its recorded history. Regardless, Columba was deeply involved whether the skirmish was over the book or regional politics. A synod of clergy nearly excommunicated him from the church over all of the hubbub. And it was some time after this that he was either told to leave Ireland or was counseled that he ought to leave Ireland by a mentor. One way or the other, Columba was exiled from his homeland.
Columba took twelve monks and set sail in a currach (small wicker boat, left) to the shores of Scotland, the Isle of Iona. There he would found Iona Abbey (below, an amazing shot taken by my wife) one of the most famous Celtic communities. Iona became a thriving community with dormitories for both men and women (monks and nuns, respectively), a gorgeous abbey church and several "beehive" hermitages. Columba would continue to travel around the region and even return to Ireland for synods and to tend religious communities in northern Ireland. His education and gentle nature led him to become a leader in local tribal affairs and Columba did not shy away from political affairs. He was respected by Pagan and Christian leaders alike.
Like many other saints, Columba's life is a weave of both history and legend - the mundane and the miraculous. I tend to think that it's his beginning with all of the good and the bad that makes his story really phenomenal. He starts out as this young aspiring clergyman, then he's accused of theft and put on trial and found to be in the wrong. Then (in one way or the other) he's involved with a violent conflict and nearly booted from the church; ultimately booted from his home. I can imagine the day that he entered that small boat to leave Ireland that Columba, nor many of his contemporaries, imagined him to be much of a clergyman, let alone a saint. But he was faithful to his vocation and persistent in following the call that he felt from God to educate, love and serve those who God brought his way. And it was in the middle of his messy life that God was able to turn the sort of thief into the cornerstone of (in my opinion) the greatest seat of religion and learning in the Celtic Christian world.
Columba lived out the life of Jesus as Peter described in Acts 4, "The stone the builders reject has become the cornerstone". (Acts 4:11, Psalm 118:22) Columba died in 597 as was buried in the abbey that he and his community had built. When the Vikings invaded in the 8th century his monks split his relics between Ireland and Scotland. Supposedly, his remains in Ireland were interred with the remains of St. Brigid of Kildare and St. Patrick. It seems that in death Columba doesn't have a place to call home, a solitary place to rest. For even his very bones are somehow still in exile.
This essentially is the story of our patron saint: both wolf and dove, both sinner and saint, both exile and native. How deeply relatable that is to so many of us who have been ostracized from friends, or family or religious communities for a million different reasons. Like Columba, whether we've been officially asked to leave or counseled that we ought to hardly makes any difference to the feeling of exile. Maybe your place of worship suddenly didn't need you when you came out. Perhaps you're no longer invited to family holidays because you hold the same religious beliefs or because you know that black lives matter. Unfortunately the truth is that, at times, the reasons for exclusion far far outweigh those for inclusion. People in general, and the religious in particular, are quick to fear and dismiss anything that is not the status quo, anything that disrupts those in power, anyone whose ideas are different or behavior is not perfect. But we can find hope in our own stories and our community of faith can find hope in the story of our patron Columba. Respected by pagans, admired by politicians. Educated ecclesiastic pain in the ass. Lover and healer of nature. Thief. Exile. Abbot. And truly a saint of God.
May saint Columba and all of the saints in light accompany you on your faith journey.
Rev. L Thomas, M.Div.-Ecology and Justice
