Life of Coemgen (III), The Monk Solomon (as glossed by Hugh O’Daly, 1725)

Coemgen was accustomed all his life through the severity of his asceticism to spend every Lent in a wattled pen, and a grey flag-stone under him as a bed, and his only food was the music of the angels; and he would spend a fortnight and a month thus. And one Lent when he was acting in this way, a blackbird came from the wood to his pen, and hopped on his palm as he lay on the flag-stone with his hand stretched out; and he kept his hand in that position, so that the blackbird built its nest in it, and hatched its brood. The angel came after this to visit Coemgen, and bade him leave the penance in which he was, and return to the society of men once more. Coemgen said that the pain of his hand being under the blackbird till she hatched her clutch was little compared with the pain which his Lord suffered for his sake; as Solomon says in this stave telling of the words of Coemgen:

Alas! a pain greater than the requital
My hand like a log under the blackbird;
The blood of his His hands, His side, His feet
The King of heaven shed for my sake.

Translation Charles Plummer, Lives of Irish Saints II

This is one of my favorite vignettes from the hagiographical literature of the Celtic Christian period. While it is doubtless exaggerated in some ways – as is all writing about saints – it contains just enough of the truth to instruct and challenge us in our devotion to the Lord.

This version of the life of Coemgen appears to be a gloss on an ancient poem written by one Solomon, who claimed to be a disciple of the 6^th-century founder of the monastery at Glendalough. Solomon’s poem is also extant, and O’Daly inserts portions of it as he prepares his account of the saint’s life.

We’re given a glimpse into the devotional life of this early Celtic leader and saint. Solomon tells us that the example here recounted is extraordinary, “a kind of devotion,/Such as no saint before was ever wont to do…” For the Lenten season, Coemgen would take to a small cell made of thatch and wattle, probably not continuously but frequently, more than normal. There he would devote himself to prayer and fasting, being sustained only by “the music of the angels” (“the chant of angels”, Solomon). O’Daly tells us that during the episode recounted here Coemgen was lying on his flagstone bed; but Solomon has him standing, and even emphasizes the pain the cold stone inflicted on his bare feet.

This seems to be the purpose of the discipline of crosfigell, or, cross vigil. On occasions saints would stand in a cruciform manner, arms outstretched and palms facing up, in order to address some special matter in prayer. By so doing they meant to emphasize the importance of their request by entering, as it were, into the sufferings of the Lord. Anyone who has ever practiced this discipline will testify to the experience of pain that accompanies it. Solomon has Coemgen responding to the angel’s coming to relieve him of his “hard devotion” by saying,

“Alas, ‘tis a pain more than the requital,
My hand like a log under the blackbird;
The blood of His hands, of His side, of His feet,
The King of Heaven shed for my sake.”

That is, the pain he was suffering under the weight of this bird was as nothing compared to what Jesus suffered for our sins. O’Daly’s version of this is only slightly different, but he felt it important to insert this into his narrative in order to let the saint speak for himself about the motive of “the severity of his asceticism”.

Solomon emphasizes the uniqueness and rigor of Coemgen’s discipline, as well as its length. The blackbird builds her nest, lays her eggs, and hatches and fledges her clutch before Coemgen relents. Did this actually happen like this? My own view is, no, it did not. At the same time, I don’t think Solomon intended us to take this literally, but to see his poetic account as a way of honoring the severity and faithfulness of Coemgen’s prayers.

Celtic hagiography is a kind of history on a “wink and a prayer.” The writer wants us to learn something important about the spiritual life, about following Jesus, but he does so with a twinkle in his eye.

Also implied in this vignette is something about the relationship between Celtic Christians and creation. Celtic Christians maintained a profound love for creation, recognizing in it many good gifts of God to supply their needs. Saints are frequently described as relating to creatures in friendly, or at least non-fearing, ways, as with Columbanus and the bear and Cuthbert and the otters. The blackbird in this account freely settled in the saint’s hands, without the usual fear of men that creatures express. And Coemgen had such respect and love for the creature that he was willing to bear whatever suffering was necessary in order to allow new life to come forth from her. Here also is a picture of Christ Whose suffering was for the world – the cosmos, all of creation – to bring new life to all creation, according to the eternal plan and purpose of God.

Celtic hagiography is a curious blend of historical fact, poetic license, spiritual instruction, and exaggerated boasting in order to bolster one’s spiritual lineage. We are wrong either to believe it literally or dismiss it out of hand. Instead, we should study these stories in the light of everything else we know about this period, so that we might appreciate the value of such accounts without having to feel like it is necessary to believe everything written in them.

T. M. Moore

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