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One for the Birds
When I was standing in the abbey church as a newly-clothed novice
and Abbot Andrew announced to everyone that my name "in religion"
would be "Brother Cuthbert," it did not quite strike me in the
way I had imagined it would. The entire clothing ceremony was
moving, but I had thought that this public declaration would be
the big, dramatic moment where I would feel like something really
special had just taken place. The significant moment I was
anticipating came only when I began exchanging the peace with
everyone in the community. First, the abbot greeted me, then the
novice master, and then I was led to share the peace with the
other monks. Hearing everyone say, "Peace be with you, Brother
Cuthbert," was the moment I had been waiting for because for the
first time I was hearing my brothers call me by the name that
will identify me in the monastery.
My chosen patron, St. Cuthbert, lived in the seventh
century in northeast England. At a young age, he decided to join
the monastery of Melrose, which was located on the banks of the
River Tweed in what is present-day Scotland. He served as guest
master early in his monastic career and eventually became the
prior of Melrose, where he began to gain a reputation as a great
preacher and wonderworker. His abbot then appointed him as prior
for the monastic community at Lindisfarne, a small tidal island
on the northeast coast of England about fifteen miles from the
border of Scotland, which was the seat of a bishopric. Cuthbert
lived on Lindisfarne for a number of years, preaching, healing,
and regulating the monastic life there before beginning to live
as a hermit.
For his hermitage he chose Inner Farne, a small island in
the North Sea about nine miles away from Lindisfarne to the
south. Here, he built a dwelling for himself, dug a well (which,
we are told, miraculously produced fresh water), and planted a
garden, making it possible for him to provide his own sustenance
without burdening the Lindisfarne community. After a number of
years as a hermit, he was elected bishop of Lindisfarne, and
though he abandoned the eremitic life with reluctance, he seems
to have whole-heartedly embraced the episcopal office, traveling
all over the north of England in spreading the gospel. He spent
only about two years as bishop, though, because when he felt
death approaching, he returned to his hermitage on Inner Farne
and spent a few months there before finally dying on March 20th
in the year 687.
When I first became aware of St. Cuthbert, I was fascinated
by him. Here was a man whose life had been celebrated first in
prose by an anonymous monk, then in verse by the Venerable Bede,
and then again by Bede in a prose version that was written to
replace the earlier one. Bede also included several chapters
about St. Cuthbert in his "Ecclesiastical History of the English
People." The Lindisfarne Gospels were produced in St. Cuthbert's
honor, his remains were looked after for hundreds of years by the
monks, and Durham Cathedral was built to house Cuthbert's relics
in his shrine behind the high altar in the cathedral to this day.
By any account, St. Cuthbert has had a huge impact on people's
lives, and his influence captured my attention, as well.
When it came time for me to choose where I wanted to get a
master's degree, I did not hesitate; Durham University was at the
top of my list, largely because of this strange feeling of
closeness that I had for St. Cuthbert. Throughout the course of
study at Durham, I became even more familiar with the writings
about St. Cuthbert, and I spent a lot of time trying to
understand better who Cuthbert was and why he was considered such
a great saint. Even accepting that much of what was written about
Cuthbert following his death was probably exaggerated to present
him as the ideal holy man, the simple, incontestable facts of his
career show him to have been a man whose faith was deep and
genuine and whose devotion to the gospel had a profound effect on
people.
While studying at Durham, I made several trips up to
Lindisfarne and the Farne Islands. These trips pilgrimages, one
might say were especially meaningful to me because they gave me a
chance to see firsthand what Cuthbert himself might have seen
when he looked at the world around him. This experience is made
even more wonderful by the fact that Lindisfarne and the Farne
Islands are in a protected wildlife habitat, so they look much
the same as they might have over a thousand years ago. It was
always a joy to spend time in the area, but there is one
particular experience that perhaps best encapsulates why I chose
the name Cuthbert.
It was in early December, and I had gone to Lindisfarne with
two good friends. When we arrived, the weather was much as one
might expect for that time of year: cold, dark, and damp. We
stayed overnight in a bed and breakfast, and when we woke up the
next morning, the sun was shining, the sea was calm, and it had
even warmed up a bit. Deciding that we had some time before we
had to be going, we walked down to St. Cuthbert's Isle, a tiny
island about a hundred yards separate from the main part of
Lindisfarne but which is accessible at low tide by walking across
a stretch of sand covered with rocks and seaweed. This small isle
is thought by many to be the place where St. Cuthbert first began
living as a hermit before he moved out to Inner Farne.
As it was low tide, I walked out to St. Cuthbert's Isle,
while my friends lingered behind. On the isle there is a small
outcropping of rock, just wide enough for one person, so I went
to stand on it in order to soak up the scenery on this abnormally
bright day. I was looking out across the tidal flats that connect
Lindisfarne to the mainland when I heard what sounded like a rush
of wind directly behind me, and in a matter of seconds, the sound
grew louder and louder. As I turned to see what was making the
sound, I was somewhat startled to see a huge flock of arctic
terns flying almost straight toward me. With no time to react, I
just stood in place as this enormous mass of birds swooped no
more than three feet over my head. They then rose up a bit, and
in one fluid motion, they made a sharp turn to the right and
landed on the sand a little farther away. This whole series of
events only took a moment, but it was one of the most amazing
things I have ever seen.
Now, I know that some might see this as a simple
coincidence, a random occurrence that has no meaning. But I have
to wonder. I wonder why those particular birds were flying at
that particular height in that particular direction on that
particularly bright and beautiful day as I was standing on that
particular spot at that particular moment in time. Certainly this
could have been 'just a coincidence,' but I prefer to think of it
as one of those moments when God is inviting us to see the
awe-inspiring wonder of creation in a special way; when the only
way to react is to simply be thankful that one was able to be a
part of the experience.
I do not claim that this close encounter with a flock of sea
birds in any way counts as a miracle, but it has given me a
better appreciation for some of the miracle stories in St.
Cuthbert's life: birds providing him with food and other
amenities, the sea conveniently giving him a piece of driftwood
that he needed just then for building material, or otters coming
to warm his feet. Perhaps in reporting to others his wonder and
delight at the workings of the natural world, Cuthbert shared his
genuine belief certain things could be considered as special
gifts of God's grace, and such things may indeed have happened to
Cuthbert long before they were embellished and turned into
delightful miracle stories. This is speculation, but certainly it
is the case that in Cuthbert's day there was a belief in the
power of God to work wonders both in and through the natural
world. Then, as now, however, seeing such things as more than
'just a coincidence' would have been a matter of perspective. I
like to think that Cuthbert's perspective was one that allowed
him to see the world around him as silently proclaiming the glory
of God, and this, at least in part, is why I chose the name
Cuthbert.
Many of the events in St. Cuthbert's life probably happened
in a way that he did not expect. When he first became a monk at
Melrose, it is not likely that he would have anticipated becoming
the prior of Lindisfarne, living as a hermit on a small island in
the North Sea, or being elected bishop. It is even less likely
that he would have expected a young novice on the other side of
the world over a thousand years later to adopt his name! Such is
the power of God to do things in our lives that we could not have
imagined for ourselves. St. Cuthbert himself once stood in a
monastery church to be officially received as part of a monastic
community, and afterwards, he may also have shared a sign of
peace with his brothers. I have to wonder if whether in that
moment, with his life ready to unfold in unexpected ways, St.
Cuthbert felt the same sense of gratitude that I did when for the
first time I heard the words, "Peace be with you, Brother
Cuthbert."
 --Br. Cuthbert
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