photo credit: http://wayneforte.com/picture/anointing-his-feet-2/
by Christine Sine
I was reading through this old post today and felt that it flowed very well from yesterday’s post so decided to reblog it. Enjoy!
Meanwhile, Jesus was in Bethany at the home of Simon, a man who had previously had leprosy. While he was eating, a woman came in with a beautiful alabaster jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard. She broke open the jar and poured the perfume over his head. Some of those at the table were indignant. “Why waste such expensive perfume?” they asked. “It could have been sold for a year’s wages and the money given to the poor!” So they scolded her harshly.
“Who was this woman?” We know where it occurred, the extravagant cost of the perfume and even the container that it was in, we do not know for sure who she was though. There has been much speculation over the centuries about who and what she was but no one can be sure. Most people assume the worst and think that she was a prostitute, as Luke suggests or it might have been Mary as John suggests. To the disdain and rejection shown by those eating at table with Jesus we add our own disdain and rejection to this woman.
Possibly her rejection was just because she was a woman. We forget that in Jesus time and culture women did not eat together with men. Perhaps she was rejected because she made the dinner guests feel uncomfortable – the generosity and extravagance of her gift might have been contrasted with their own lack of giving. Or perhaps she was someone unacceptable within the society – if not a prostitute then maybe ill or poor, or maybe she was a Gentile. We don’t know for sure.
What is Your Response?
All of us have times when we feel like this woman kneeling at Jesus feet. We want to share our loving gifts lavishly, but feel that they are unappreciated or misunderstood.
Sit quietly for a few minutes and think back over your own life. Remind yourself of situations in which you have felt misunderstood and unappreciated. Now imagine Jesus taking up your gift with love and gratitude, fully appreciative of all that you have done.
Write down your response.
He Qi Woman anointing Jesus Feet http://www.heqiart.com/
This story occurs just a couple of days before the Last Supper and the foretaste of the communion feast. I wondered is this because this story challenges us to think about all those that we still exclude from our table fellowship. Jesus has embraced the outcasts and is eating at their table – the tax collectors, and Simon the leper are there but they are unwilling to welcome this woman.
I think that this woman is unnamed because she represents all the nameless and rejected ones in our society whom we still refuse to welcome to our table – people that we aren’t willing to listen to because they are different from us or unacceptable in our own Christian culture.
What is your response:
Who, I wondered are we still unwilling to welcome to our table? Whose voices are we unwilling to listen to and whose offerings are we unwilling to embrace?
Sit quietly for a couple of minutes with your eyes closed. Imagine your dining room table with a group of friends around it. Who would you invite? Who would feel excluded and why? Write down your impressions. Listen to the song below. What would it take for you to live in God’s freedom and come to God’s table as this song suggests? Pray about your responses and ask God if there is anything you need to change.
by Christine Sine
Over the last few months, Tom and I have been reading The Gratitude Diaries together. The author Janice tells of her year long experiment with gratitude. She took a different shares of her life each month and explored ways to express gratitude in that area. It is a well researched book and has given me much to think about.
In part of last week’s readings she talked about an interview she conducted with psychiatrist Jeffrey Huffman who told her that writing a letter of gratitude is the single most effective positive intervention they found for people who are depressed, hopeless and suicidal. He thought that was because gratitude turned our attention outward helping us to remember that we have connections and people who care about us.
“Realizing that someone did something kind gives so many positive emotions to unpack! If your being grateful you must have been worthy enough for someone to pay attention to you.. You do have somebody in the world who cares about you, and your not alone. The feeling of gratitude can have a profound effect on someone who is feeling isolated and worthless” (281)
I have been a strong advocate for incorporating gratitude into my weekly spiritual disciplines ever since I read Ann Voskamp’s book One Thousand Gifts several years ago. One of my Sabbath questions is What are you grateful for this week? I have also added a week of gratitude to the beginning of Advent as a special celebration. This has helped me negotiate many storms and focus on the hope and joy of the life I am privileged to live. Expressing gratitude has changed me dramatically, both making me more aware of the love of others and empowering me to express love for others.
What Are We Grateful for?
No wonder the central sacrament of our faith, communion, is sometimes called the Great Thanksgiving. This is the place where all followers of Jesus are invited to gather and share fellowship with each other as we remember and respond to the Eternal One who gave everything to draw us back into the embrace of divine love.
The great thanksgiving – but what am I grateful for as I partake? To be honest this was not a question I have really asked myself before. But as I thought about it today a great list came together and my joy overflowed.
I am grateful for the Christ who came in the flesh to show us the face of a God of love and compassion and generosity.
I am grateful for the sacrifices Jesus willing made, allowing his body to be broken and his blood to be shed so that we could be set free.
I am grateful for all who take communion and partake of the Eucharist together, not just in my congregation but but across the world – people from every tribe and nation and culture, rich and poor, disabled and whole, well thought of and despised.
I am grateful for those who have gone before, leaving footprints for me to follow that challenge me to a deeper level of action for justice, healing, love and compassion.
I am grateful for those who will come after and continue the healing work that God has begun.
I am grateful for the bread and the wine, for the earth that grew the flour and grapes, for the human hands that shaped them.
I am grateful for the God who reached into the soil of the earth and molded it beings responsible to steward and look after this earth.
I am grateful for the fact that each human being is infused with part of the essence and image of God. This we see now in part but one day will see it emerge in its fullness, brought to wholeness through the work of the renewing and restoring spirit of God who lives within all of us.
What is Your Response?
As we approach Holy Week and Jesus’ walk to Jerusalem and the Last Supper he shared with his followers which gave birth to the sacrament of communion, it seems like a great time to remember to be grateful for all God has done for us. Watch the video below. Close your eyes and remind yourself of the last time you took communion. Imagine yourself back at the table. Who is with you, both physically standing by you and in your imagination as you think of all those gathered around the world and throughout time? How does it make you feel? What are you grateful for?
by Christine Sine
Sunday was the first sunny day we have had in Seattle for a long time. Tom and I walked around Greenlake, rejoicing in the daffodils with smiling faces shining in the sun. My soul is singing as I rejoice in the beauty of God’s creation in this springtime glory just beginning to emerge.
I often find myself conflicted between the season of Lent with its sense of deprivation and the rejoicing of spring and the wonder of what is happening in my garden. There is a tension here that I have found challenging to reconcile. But this year as I have focused on Lent as preparation for transformation, not time for denial and sacrifice, the tension resolved.
The world is getting ready for transformation and by the grace of God I am able to join in. In the garden I am tilling the soil, loading it with compost and planting the seeds in the depths of the rich, dark soil. Each seed I plant is a promise filled with the hope that it will germinate and be transformed into new life.
There are other promises that the spring planting season brings with it. In many countries starvation and hunger are seasonal. It is during this time of the year, when the stored harvest is depleted that poor families are most reliant on dried seeds, nuts and beans that they eke out with the hope that the new harvest will begin before their stores are finished.
Each seed planted bears with it a hope for transformation, a longing not just for the new growth but for the first fruits, the first sprouts that can be eaten and renew life. For some the greatest seal of hopelessness is when they need to use their seeds as food to survive, forcing themselves into hunger and starvation for next year too.
In my heart I am longing for the same germination of new life that has been planted in my soul. I long to see the new sprouts, the promise of a new harvest that I am beginning to catch glimmers of. How often I wonder have I eaten those seeds instead and denied God the ability to grow a new crop in my heart.
The giving of first fruits in cultures that lived on the edge of starvation during the season between planting and harvest must have been a huge sacrifice, an incredible denial of their own needs for nourishment so that their commitment to God could be fed and nourished first. Maybe that is what the denial of Lent is meant to be about. This is indeed a season to put the needs of God, and of others, and of the creation as well, before our own. This is the season above all others when we need to nourish the seeds of God’s transformation and allow it to grow and flourish.
As I work in the garden this week I know that my reflections will continue to revolve around the ongoing transformation God wants to accomplish in my life. Here are the questions I am asking myself:
Where has God planted seeds that have still not sprouted and need to be nurtured? Where have I failed to plant seeds because of a scarcity mentality, feeling that I will starve if I keep back some for next year’s harvest? And where have failed to give God the first fruits because I am so longing for new produce for myself?
Adapted from Springtime in my Soul
There are many current events that sap our emotions and threaten to drain our pool of empathy. Many refer to this as “compassion fatigue”. We arrive at this destination often from a lack of self-care rather 
than a lack of love. We also arrive there when, as people of faith, we begin with activism rather than centering our hearts and minds in Christ.
Over the years many have written about the relationship between contemplation and action. My first exposure to this idea of contemplative activism was in Thomas Merton’s book Contemplation in a World of Action, first published in 1965. Here is how he frames this relationship:
What is the relation of this [contemplation] to action? Simply this. He who attempts and acts to do things for others or for the world without deepening his own self-understanding, freedom, integrity, and capacity to love, will not have anything to give others. He will communicate to them nothing but the contagion of his own obsessions, his aggressiveness, his ego-centered ambitions, his delusions about ends and means, his doctrinaire prejudices and ideas. There is nothing more tragic in the modern world than the misuse of power and action to which men are driven by their own Faustian misunderstandings and misapprehensions. (Thomas Merton, Contemplation in a World of Action, pp. 178-179.)
Injustice and pain in the world remind me of Jesus’ responses as recorded in scripture and, as I read about Jesus’ life, current injustices and divisions come to mind. There is a kind of circular movement toward Christ, toward others, and back toward Christ. The grounding of action in the One who holds the power to reconcile all things, bringing shalom to the nooks and crannies of our world, renews my spirit.
But more than that, first grounding myself in Christ changes how I perceive the world. To the point Merton addresses, when we begin anywhere other than Jesus, our only option is to ground our action in ourselves; our broken, confused, ego-centered selves.
I wrote the poem below in 1992. In it I attempt to address the issue of inaction in the face of injustice.
Love’s Darkest Hour
The antithesis of love’s not hate
for hate is love gone sour
but when, unmoved, we fail to act
this is love’s darkest hour
All around us lives despair
we fail to question why
this is the act that loves the least
and makes our souls run dry
Not to reflect on our own lives
and change for those in need
this seems to me love’s greatest foe
its name is Apathy
AFWade 6/12/1992
- What is your response to injustice?
- Does your time in prayer and contemplation prepare you for action?
- Does your action drive you back to prayer and contemplation?
- How do you combat “compassion fatigue” or a tendency toward apathy?
A Few Resources for Contemplative Activism
- Fuel Radio interview with Christine Sine
- The Center for Action and Contemplation – Richard Rohr
- Gravity Center for Contemplative Activism – Phileena and Chris Heuertz
Cynthia Helton —
As I begin this, I want to state outright that I am not a member of clergy. I have no theological training – no experience in ministry – no expertise whatsoever in leadership in the institutional church. I say this not to diminish the validity of what I’m about to write; but to express most sincerely that my words as an ordinary person struggling to stay in the light might possibly speak more directly to any reader who is in the same boat as me.
2013 Prayer Card – Christine Sine, Godspace. Photo – Andy Wade
In addition, at first what I write here might seem a bit scandalous; but hopefully – if you stay with me to the end – you may find your own bit of clarity that can help you make sense of questions you may have never voiced.
First though, in way of setting the stage for where I want to go with this, it may be helpful to explain where I’m coming from. I was raised Roman Catholic, but because of “bumps in the road” that ostracized me from the church, I found a ledge to stand on for a number of years in the Episcopal Church.
As life will do, especially as the autumn years turn to winter, circumstances and limitations often make room for introspection – sometimes opening up cracks in the validity of everything you’ve believed. At least, that’s what happened to me – especially when it comes to organized religion.
Because I’m blessed with a wise Anam Cara, a soul friend who is also my Spiritual Director, I listened when God used him to make this simple suggestion: “When you lose your way, go back to your roots.” This, coupled with Pope Francis’ compassionate invitation to those of us who have been estranged from the Roman church to return, I’m giving it a try – albeit from a guarded position.
The Roman Catholic Church, like many denominations, is an extremely symbolic church. All the “bells and smells,” the visual aids of contemplation found in statues and crucifixes, the liturgy and music are tools meant to accentuate our experience of God in the time we’re sitting in the pews. For most of my life it worked too; but the time came when I just needed more.
As oftentimes is the case, an inner quest for something more meaningful starts out with judging and criticizing. Case in point: I started to shrink from things that would draw attention; that could be used to “advertise” Christianity; that could showboat the “outside of a person’s cup” while the dregs of ego settled to the bottom. Even the simple act of wearing a cross around my neck felt arrogant, showy, even “vulgar.” A sign or bumper sticker on a car … forget about it!
But then, as God does, something came over me – right in the throws of my hysterical judgmental “hissy fit” …which I was almost enjoying. Trying to have some semblance of a Lenten observance, I came across an explanation of the crucifixion that knocked the wind out of my sails. To quote Richard Rohr:
The compassionate holding of essential meaninglessness and tragedy, as Jesus does on the cross, is the final and triumphant resolution of all the dichotomies that we ourselves must face in our own lives.
In other words, all the suffering we encounter, whether by our own choices or as the result of the brutality of the free will of others; all the tragedy that comes from the realistic and inevitable result of forces outside our control (illness, birth defects, natural disasters), are all held in an embrace – depicted in the outstretched arms of Jesus hanging on the cross. Jesus, in my opinion, was not a sacrifice of an innocent lamb to a vengeful god! He did not “pay the price” for our sins! His life was not a “ransom” for our own!
[Stay with me here just for a few more lines.]
Jesus suffered all the horrendous treatment by both the religious leaders as well as the Romans who actually put him to death to exemplify the truth that we never “read to the end of the story!” We get so caught up with the details, we miss the “connector” …the bridge that actually leads to resurrection: His then … ours now. Jesus’ arms are embracing his accusers and torturers with compassion that was “chosen.” In that choice, all bitterness and anger dissolve.
His purpose for dying on the cross was to show us that by accepting the paradoxes and sufferings of life with compassion, we will be free – we will be “saved” to live a new life of resurrection. This isn’t some “pie in the sky” notion that we will welcome trouble or tragedy into our lives with open arms! We will still be sad or devastated or angry or afraid (surely in his humanness, Jesus was all that and more!) …. but with the intention of accepting what’s on our plate with compassion, we will make it through – we will know resurrection – we will experience the love of God – and we will be “resurrected” many times before our lives on this earthly plane are over. To me, this is the purpose of why Jesus lived – and died.
Truly it is God’s grace that gives us the urge to have that intention in the first place; but how often we brush aside the “Butterfly” from our sleeve … run from the “Hound of Heaven” … crouch low to avoid the “Wind of the Wild Goose.” It’s so very easy to miss God’s promptings. In my own case, how very shallow and egotistical my view has been.
Perhaps, though, I needed to be that way so that in finally recognizing my ignorance – by looking at it with compassion now that a better way has been revealed to me – I can truly begin to cherish the “cross” in whatever form I find it. Whether it is on the back of a truck – the median of a highway – the wall of a church – hanging around someone’s neck …. wherever! … it will cause me to pause; to take a breath and remember to embrace my own life’s paradox with compassion as I walk along the way toward my own resurrection.
The Rev. Rachel K. Taber-Hamilton —
Riding bareback, the young Lakota warrior drove his dappled horse at a dead run towards me. I paused in my walk along the wide grassy swatch cut through the field leading towards the tributary to the Missouri River and quickly stepped off the trail. As horse and rider thundered past me, I called out,
Clergy Prayer Action at Oceti Sakowin Camp, November 3, 2016.
“What’s happening?” Shouting back to me over his shoulder, the young man answered with urgency, “What’s happening is crazy! Go! Go and help! Please help!” As his horse galloped onwards towards the Oceti Sakowin Camp, the young warrior continued crying out to anyone and everyone within hearing, “Help! Help them! Everyone go to the river! Please help!”
The morning of November 2, 2016 had begun in a fairly mundane way. I was one from among 524 clergy, representing multiple faith traditions, who were gathering in response to an invitation by The Rev. John Floberg, Rector of St. James Episcopal Church in Cannon Ball. We were coming together in order to participate in an interfaith prayer action, protesting the building of the Dakota Access Pipeline [DAPL] within the historic treaty lands of the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe in North Dakota.
For the previous two nights, I had been sleeping in St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Fort Yates. When I reluctantly extricated myself from the warm cocoon of sleeping bag on the morning of the 2nd, I became aware that sometime during the course of the night I had made the decision to stay at the Oceti Sakowin Camp for the coming evening so that I would already be in camp for the clergy gathering on the following morning.
A good night’s sleep on the floor of a church sanctuary had apparently diffused any lingering concerns I may have had about staying in camp. I was raised to be a “good girl” and a “good Indian,” so the idea of challenging state and national governmental agencies does not come readily to me. I had been taught to have the best of all possible relationships with police, to see them as friends who would help me in times of need. However, I fall into the category of being raised as an “urban Indian” as compared to a “reservation Indian.” Life is different on the rez, since by conception a federal reservation is an area of land reserved for tribes under treaty where the federal government holds title to the land in trust on behalf of the tribe. However, every single one of the more than 700 treaties with Native Americans has been broken by the US government at some point or another. Every. Single. One.
Environmental racism refers to socially marginalized racial minority communities which are thought to be subjected to disproportionate exposure of pollutants, the denial of access to sources of ecological benefits (such as clean air, water, and natural resources), or both. Mineral and resource extraction on Native lands have jeopardized ecological and communal health with each successive century of colonialism and its subsequent ongoing practices of environmental racism.
The 1851 Treaty of Ft. Laramie between the U.S. government and nine Indian tribes (including the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation) shows that the DAPL pipeline cuts through the middle of the treaty boundary. However, the lines of the reservation started changing without Sioux approval in the mid-1800s, after gold was found in the Black Hills. At that time, the US Congress passed a number of unilateral statutes that altered the boundaries of the reservation, effectively confiscating the land.
The Dakota Access Pipeline’s original route called for the pipeline project to cross under the Missouri River north of Bismark. However, the original route was rejected because of the pipeline’s potential threat to Bismarck’s water supply. The route was then changed to cut through the Sioux treaty area, to endanger the tribe’s water supply instead.
Before arriving at camp on November 2nd, I packed my gear into my rental car and drove to Cannon Ball where I spent the morning helping to organize the supplies necessary to feed the 524 clergy who would be gathering the next day for prayer. After my work was competed at St. Jame’s, I drove into the Oceti Sakowin Camp.
Within minutes of my arrival, I heard an announcement from the fire circle that the camp elders were placing the camp on lockdown, which meant that no one could leave or enter – for their own protection. Apparently, an unscheduled action was taking place on the northeast edge of camp. The night before, Water Protectors had built a makeshift bridge across a river tributary in order to reach a hill called Turtle Mountain, an ancestral burial ground upon which state security forces had set up a surveillance station on the previous day. Local Natives wanted to say prayers on behalf of those buried there and negotiate with the security forces to ask if they would move off the burial ground area.
The call went out for aid. After prepping a set of goggles with duct-taped holes (to ward off the effects of tear gas) and making sure I had earplugs with me (to ward off the effects of sound canons), I walked over to observe the action from the near side of the tributary and be ready to receive casualties for transport to the camp’s first aid tent. I was heading to the site, when the young Lakota warrior galloped by with his earnest cries for help. I quickened my pace to a run and reached the tributary river at the foot of Turtle Mountain to behold a stunning sight.
Fifty officers in full body armor and riot gear, armed with large canisters of teargas and guns loaded with rubber bullets, rappelled down the steep near side of the hill, while an armed security boat simultaneously entered the tributary from the Missouri River. Security forces in the boat quickly deconstructed much of the makeshift bridge. However, several unarmed and barely clad Water Protectors began to swim across the tributary, asking for a respite and the opportunity to talk with the officers. In shocked silence, I watched while a new generation of Native youth and young adults experienced the full force of modern day colonialism – and its racism – in the United States of America.
There was no conversation to be had. The young people were met with streams of teargas and directed fire of rubber bullets. The people in the water made no attempt to harm the officers or to come ashore – they stayed in the water of the river, literally at the feet of the officers standing on the land, and tried to ward off the spray and bullets with a ragged blue tarp and small plastic storage bin lids used as shields. The Native youth did not advance, but they would not leave – they kept asking for dialog.
One young Native woman at the edge of the shore and staying in the river, looked up at the officer standing above her and asked, “Why are you doing this?” The officer’s response was to raise his large canister and spay her directly in the eyes with a five second torrent of teargas from a distance of less than two feet. The stream of teargas was so copious that the deluge poured over her head like a milk bath before running down her upper body and into the river in which she was standing.
The woman did not retreat. When the spraying stopped, she dipped beneath the surface of the water and reemerged with her swollen eyes shut, and said to the officer, “You don’t have to do this. We can talk. We have so much in common. We both need water to live.” The officer’s response was to hose her down with another five-second stream of teargas. She did this six more times before returning to the camp side shore, unable to see and unable to feel her legs or hands.
Many people in the water began to succumb to hypothermia and we’re taken to the medical tent in camp. After helping load an unresponsive young man into the cab of a pickup truck, my years of experience as a hospital chaplain contributed to my decision to stay at the medical tent in order to support the medical crew there. The nurses and doctors there were all volunteers. In the midst of the cultural and physical trauma going on around them, the volunteer medical staff knew that they were treating the victims of modern American warfare – one in which the decedents of those who came to these shores seeking freedom continue to afflict the descendants of those who have never really been free since.
The experience at Oceti Sakowin Camp has taught me that issues of racism are at their core issues of relationship, and genuine relationships begin with dialog. Each person that I meet has a life experience different than mine; I must come to know the stranger, if I am going to be of any real help in removing barriers and building bridges. Therefore as a Christian, vulnerably standing within the waters of my Baptism, I am daily compelled to ask, “Can we talk?”
Rachel at the Mount of Olives
The Rev. Rachel K. Taber-Hamilton is rector of Trinity Episcopal Church in Everett, WA and is an ordained priest in the Episcopal Diocese of Olympia (Western Washington). She was the first (known) indigenous person to be ordained in the diocese in 2003. Born and raised in the United States, Rachel’s heritage includes the First Nations Shackan Indian Band of the Nicola Tribal Association in British Columbia, Canada.
CUTHBERT OF LINDISFARNE — c634-March 20, 687 AD
St. Cuthbert’s body found to be incorrupt when his tomb was opened. Illustration from British Library MS Yates Thompson. The 46 full page miniatures include many miracles associated with Cuthbert both before and after his death. Photo from Wikipedia
St. Cuthbert was the much-loved 7th c. Bishop of Lindisfarne who is the patron saint of Northern England. As the seventh Bishop of Lindisfarne, Cuthbert was known for his gentle strength, wisdom, charm, skillful speaking, prayerful life, and devotion to Christ.
Lindisfarne is a tidal island on the coast of Northumberland that is cut off from the mainland by water at certain times of the day. A priory was established on Lindisfarne by Irish monks from the isle of Iona with Aidan as the first Bishop.
We are grateful for The Venerable Bede who was a monk at Jarrow Abbey, one of the twin monasteries of Wearmouth-Jarrow in Northeast England. In the early 8th century he recorded much of England’s early church history in his Ecclesiastical History of the English People that included extensive information on the life of St. Cuthbert.
His Calling
Cuthbert was born about 634 AD and grew up in southern Scotland, near Melrose Abbey. It is said that on the night that St. Aidan, the first Bishop of Lindisfarne died, that Cuthbert saw a vision of Aidan’s body being carried to heaven which led him to sense a call to become a monk.
Soon after that life-transforming vision, Cuthbert became a monk and entered Melrose Abbey. He later transferred to Ripon Abbey and then returned to Melrose Abbey. From there, the 31 year old Cuthbert went to Lindisfarne as Abbot about 665 AD.
As the newly installed Abbot, Cuthbert inherited a significant problem in which he skillfully and prayerfully dealt. Just a few months earlier, the famous Synod of Whitby in 664 AD was held. At that synod, the Celtic way of Christianity represented at Lindisfarne was voted down in favor of Roman Christianity. Colman who was the third Bishop of Lindisfarne and was present at this synod, was so disgusted at the outcome of this important meeting that he left Lindisfarne and took several of his monks with him back to Iona and then later to Inishbofin, Ireland.
Abbot Cuthbert masterfully guided this seismic transition at Lindisfarne from the Celtic way of Christianity to the Roman way. This nerve-wracking time must have been stressful on this Abbot who was more comfortable as a hermit than as a leader. Soon, Cuthbert began to seek the solitude of retreat to renew his spirit. He would often row a little boat to one of the isolated Farne islands about three miles away where he established a small hermitage for himself.
Bishop of Lindisfarne
After serving faithfully as Abbot of Lindisfarne for eleven years, Cuthbert retired in 676 to permanently live on the Inner Farne in his little hermitage. He experienced nine years of peace as a hermit before he was called (begged!) out of retirement by King Ecgfrith and a band of other leaders to become the Bishop of Lindisfarne. He reluctantly accepted this call and was ordained by Archbishop Theodore at York on Easter, March 26, 685, but less than two years later, at Christmas he decided he had enough of a good time and moved back to his beloved Inner Farne.
Cuthbert’s Resurrection Day
Cuthbert predicted his own death and he died on the Inner Farne on March 20, 687. He was buried at Lindisfarne, but in the mid- 800’s to protect his remains from the Viking onslaught his sarcophagus began traveling. He was carried by the monks of Lindisfarne throughout Northumbria.
Cuthbert’s body finally rested for a long while at the church of St. Mary and St. Cuthbert at Chester-le-Street, but his final resting place was Durham Cathedral, where his body still remains in a shrine. It is a powerful experience to sit and contemplate beside Cuthbert’s shrine. Also in Durham Cathedral, one can visit Bede’s shrine.
Treasures in Cuthbert’s Sarcophagus
Bede records that Cuthbert’s simple wooden sarcophagus adorned with primitively carved angels was opened eleven years after he died. The monks found that Cuthbert looked like he was asleep; that his limbs were still flexible, and that his vestments were still in perfect order. He looked like he had just been buried. Bede also wrote of monks being cured at Cuthbert’s tomb.
It is likely that Cuthbert’s tomb was opened several times before 1104 when the relics that were found inside were recorded. In 1104, they found a small book of the Gospel of John, now known as St. Cuthbert’s Gospel measuring only three-and-a-half by five inches. It was incredibly found lying at his head! Even the original goat leather red Celtic bookbinding was still intact. Scholars believe that this was not Cuthbert’s personal gospel book as it was likely handwritten after his death, sometime between 710 and 730 AD. It was probably added to the sarcophagus at an earlier opening of his tomb. This little gospel book formerly known as the Stonyhurst Gospel, was likely penned at the Wearmouth-Jarrow Abbey where Bede spent his life. It was purchased in April 2012 by the British Library for $14.3 million (9 million British Pounds) and is now known as St. Cuthbert’s Gospel book.
Also found during this early 12th century opening of the sarcophagus was a set of 10th century vestments placed by King Æthlestan while on a pilgrimage to Cuthbert’s shrine at Chester-le-Street. These vestments were made of Byzantine silk with a stole decorated with Anglo-Saxon embroidery. Also, in his coffin was a stunning gold, garnet, and shell pectoral cross on his body. In addition, Cuthbert’s personal portable altar table covered in silver was discovered along with a comb, scissors, and an onyx chalice with a gold lion.
At some point Cuthbert’s simple wooden sarcophagus was later encased in a fine coffin covered with gold, silver, and large magnificent jewels. With the Dissolution of the Monasteries in about 1539/1540 King Henry VIII dispatched some of his men including a goldsmith to Durham Cathedral to pry the jewels, gold, and silver off of Cuthbert’s coffin. We can’t help but wonder if Cuthbert was not in some way greatly relieved that those extravagant and ostentatious jewels were now gone from his resting place.
Lindisfarne Gospels
Eadfrith who became Bishop of Lindisfarne in 698 likely produced the magnificent Lindisfarne Gospels that was handwritten and gorgeously illuminated in honor of St. Cuthbert. Current scholarship indicates a date around 715 for the production of the Lindisfarne Gospels.
The original Lindisfarne Gospels are still breathtaking. They are housed in the British Library as one of their most treasured books. The pages of this remarkable gospel book along with the St. Cuthbert Gospel can be viewed page by page on the British Library’s website.
On the 1300th anniversary of Cuthbert’s Resurrection Day, the Lindisfarne Gospels was displayed in Durham Cathedral in 1987. During this anniversary celebration, this sacred gospel book made in Cuthbert’s honor after his death was poignantly laid upon Cuthbert’s shrine for a short while. Also, the Lindisfarne Gospels were displayed once again in 2013 at Durham University’s Palace Green Library.
St. Cuthbert Pilgrimages
St. Cuthbert’s Way, a beautiful 62 mile hike from Melrose Abbey in Southern Scotland to Lindisfarne is a popular walking path through the hilly terrain of the Scottish borders. Pilgrims from all over the world also flock to Durham Cathedral, Lindisfarne, and Melrose Abbey to soak in the presence of St. Cuthbert, this gentle wise Celtic Bishop who still touches our lives 1300 years later.
Cuthbert’s wooden angel-carved sarcophagus along with some of the incredibly well preserved relics from his tomb can be viewed in the Open Treasures area of Durham Cathedral.
Resources: Bibliographical information relevant to the life of St. Cuthbert is available on the author’s Celtic and Anglo-Saxon saints website at www.saintsbridge.org. http://wp.me/p1RMRS-44
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