Adomnán, Life of Columba

This also seems a thing that should not be passed unnoticed: that certain lay people of the same blessed man [Colum Cille, or Columba], though they were guilty men and blood-stained, were through certain songs of his praises in the Irish tongue, and the commemoration of his name, delivered, on the night in which they had chanted those songs, from the hands of their enemies who had surrounded the house of the singers; and they escaped unhurt, through flames, and swords, and spears. A few of them had refused to sing, as if valuing little the chantlings of the holy man’s commemoration, and miraculously those few alone had perished in the enemies assault.

Of this miracle it has been possible to produce not two witnesses or three, as law requires, but a hundred or more. For not in one place or time only is the same thing proved to have happened, but it has been established beyond any doubt as having happened at various places and times, in Ireland and Britain, but in like manner and with the like cause of deliverance. We have learned these things, without room for doubt, from people who knew the facts in every district, wherever the same thing happened, with the same miracle.

Translation Alan Orr Anderson and Marjorie Olgivie Anderson

Adomnán was the ninth abbot of the monastery founded by Colum Cille on the holy island of Iona. He lived around 150 years after Colum. By Adomnán’s day a variety of monastic paruchia or families had emerged, each associated with the name of a great founder like Colum. It does not surprise us to know that, like modern Christian denominations, a certain amount of competition and striving to secure “bragging rights” arose among the various monastic families.

This competition was in part responsible for the various hagiographies which have survived from the period of the Celtic Revival, as writers took pen in hand to extol the virtues of their founders and, thus, to vaunt the superiority of their own community over that of competitors.

This excerpt from Adomnán’s account of the ministry of Colum reveals a good bit of insight to this period. First, we find a reference to certain men as “people of” Colum. Now Colum is already dead by the time the events reported here occurred. We know this because poets like Dallán Forgaill and Beccán mac Luigdech had already begun composing hymns and poems commemorating the life and work of Iona’s founder. It may have been their commemorative verses these ne’re-do-wells were singing.

So in what sense could these men be described as “people of” Colum? Probably because they resided within a community associated with one of the monasteries of the Iona paruchia. Missionaries from Iona went from the holy island to Ireland, Scotland, and elsewhere and founded many monastic communities, such as Lindisfarne in Scotland and Derry in Ireland. The people whose homes and farms were served by and supported the monks and other clergy of these monasteries were regarded as part of the paruchia, not only of their local monastery, but of the larger family of monasteries which traced their spiritual lineage to Colum and adhered to his monastic rule.

The men mentioned in this excerpt would thus have been “Christians”, at least in some sense. They were also sinners, as were all the believers then, as now. Christians then may not have all been notorious in their sins, or men of violence, as these men appear to have been, but they were all sinners in constant need of instruction, correction, and sanctification. We gather this from the existence of various handbooks for pastoral care – penitentials – which were prepared during this period.

On the night mentioned a group of bandits seem to have gathered in one place, when their enemies, having discovered their whereabouts, set about to destroy them. Perhaps to bolster their courage they sang songs of heroes as they waited for the inevitable assault. Among those songs – and I stress the “among” – may have been some of the hymns or poems focused on Colum. The men may also have told tales of some of the great pre-Christian heroes of Celtic Ireland, or even accounts of local folk heroes. Men who are facing a struggle, especially one involving risk and danger, often seek encouragement from a variety of sources, as any football coach knows before a big game.

So they sang songs about Colum. Then the fighting began. These men were delivered not by a miracle, but by their own exertions. We can imagine the scene: Their enemies set the house on fire where they were hiding. As they tried to escape, a struggle ensued with swords and spears. Some men died, and the survivors remembered that these men had not sung the songs about Colum. Was that an accurate memory? Or was it one concocted to gain the approval of the inquirer, who might have been their pastor (to whom the survivors may have fled for refuge?)?

Adomnán regards this deliverance as a miracle, doubtless for two reasons. First, Celtic Christians actually did believe that God was intimately involved in all aspects of everyday life. He was present to help those who sought him in their work, families, troubles, travels, and all their endeavors. Celtic Christians composed songs and prayers to use in calling on the help of God for whatever they faced at any given time, whether a great challenge or an everyday occurrence. So for Adomnán to regard this as a miracle is just his way of saying that God had mercy on these men and worked through and with them for their deliverance.

But Adomnán also has the interests of his paruchia in mind. He has probably related a true account, but, as I have suggested, he chose his facts in order to maximize the “role” of Colum in the deliverance of these men. His point is not so much that God favored these men as that God favored Colum, whose memory these men invoked for their deliverance (as Adomnán has it).

Typical of his account, Adomnán insists that many such incidences had occurred, and witnesses could be produced to attest to the veracity of his report. And this also was probably true, but within the parameters of reportage I have suggested here.

We need not see any miracle involved in this or other such incidents. What we do learn is that Colum was well known and widely respected even after his death, and not without good reason. He was a great, courageous, and generous man, and the monks of his monastic family did many good works wherever they went, claiming his name and lineage as they traveled about preaching, teaching, and doing good.

But Adomnán’s account also suggests that, by his day, the fame of Iona had begun to fade. At the Synod of Whitby in 664, two generations prior to Adomnán, King Oswiu of Northumberland forced the Celtic Church into the fold of the Roman Catholic Church. In making his decision, he rejected the appeal of Irish bishops to Colum in favor of the Roman appeal to Peter. In his Life of Columba Adomnán offers an attempt to preserve some of the fading glory of his community through an exaggerated account of the greatness of its (great) founder.

T. M. Moore

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