Heavenfield

Well here we are… its holy week and Brendan and company sight land once more. As we should have expected on Maundy Thursday they return to the Isle of their Steward for the second time. As this is the second time Brendan and company has passed holy week and Easter on their voyage the Navigatio does not elaborate on the details as much. All phases of their journey through holy week and Easter reflect the life of Christ. The steward who meets them on Maundy Thursday lives out the steps of the Feast of the Last Supper, washing their feet and providing them with a banquet. They celebrate the somber rites of Good Friday with him. On the morning of Holy Saturday they once again embark from the Isle of the Steward now knowing they will meet the great fish. As in the previous year they find the ‘island’ with the cauldron they left the year before but know that they are on the back of the great fish. I think it is important to stress that the Latin text calls it a fish not a whale. The fish is the symbol of Christ and it is Christ who will carry them on his back during the darkest day of the year, Holy Saturday, while Christ is in the tomb. Here the pass the Easter Vigil. On Easter morning they will set sail again leaving the fish behind as they proceed to the Isle of the Birds, who we know from their previous visit are the manifestation of angels who continually sing praises to God throughout Eastertide. So I will leave you here until the arrival of Eastertide…

Finally, finally, I identified this print today. This print has been reproduced or linked to all over the internet with no attribution, so that can finally be rectified at least for Heavenfield. It was produced by Caspar Plautinus, Abbot of Seitenstetten (Austria) in about 1621 for his book, Nova Typis Transacta Navigatio: Nova Orbis India Occidentalis.

This is apparently a book about a Benedictine monk who accompanied Christopher Columbus on his second voyage to America as a papal ambassador and missionary. The good abbot begins his book by recounting the legend of St Brendan. Here is a description of the book from Bryn Mawr Library. The British Library and elsewhere confirm that this print is from that book.

Last time we dropped in on Brendan and company, they were just setting sail from the Isle of St Ailbe where they had spent Advent and the Christmas season. They sailed throughout Epiphany season with no excitement or land in site. As they enter the Lenten season, their food and water starts to dwindle and three days after their supplies run out, land is sighted.

They land on the island where they find a pure well with plants and roots growing in a circle around the well. From the ‘well’ was a stream full of fish running to the sea. Brendan instructs the brothers to take only what they need and no more. Some brothers take one cup of water, others two or three. They all fall asleep and are unable to be awakened for one, two or three days depending on how many cups of water they took. Brendan rebukes the brothers for taking more than they need and instructs them to fill the boat with just enough fish, roots and water for them to eat once every three days, drink only one cup per day, and no more until Maunday Thursday. When the boat was filled they set sail toward the north.

After three days sailing, the wind dropped and the sea became so smooth it was as if it was coagulated. Realizing that they were unable to row any further, Brendan orders the brothers to put up the oars and let the sail down, they would wait for the wind and go wherever God directs them. They sailed on relying on the wind alone for the next 20 days, when the wind changes direction and blows eastward until Maundy Thursday. They maintain their discipline always eating only every third day.

~~~

So what do we learn from Lent in the Navigatio? Brendan and company must rely solely on the direction and provision of God. When they reach the coagulated sea, usually interpreted as a slushy, nearly frozen ocean, they must rely completely on God to guide them. Their oars will get them nowhere in the slush. Their limited provisions also put them in a forced fast. This fast places them again at the mercy of God because such slim provisions mean that they will be near starvation if they do not reach their Maundy Thursday destination on time. Indeed, this may be the challenge of the coagulated sea. Had they fought the sea with their oars rather than relying on the wind of God they would not have reached their destination on time and would have starved. The fast also tests their discipline to make their provisions last.

One of the interesting things about this section is the utter absence of Ash Wednesday. There is absolutely no notice of the beginning of Lent at all. Brendan and company spend about four days overall on the island and then go on for about 20 days before Maundy Thursday. So, they must be nearly half way through lent when they arrive on the island. Wooding dates the Latin Navigatio to about c. 730-830, suggesting that Ash Wednesday was not a major commemoration yet by then.

WRJ Barron and GS Burgess, Eds. The Voyage of St Brendan: Representative Versions of the Legend in English Translation. Exeter Press, 2002. Latin legend introduced by Jonathan Wooding and translated by JJ O’Meara.

First, thank you to all my readers. Sometime Sunday morning I reached 5000 hits on the wordpress counter. I know that others read Heavenfield by google reader or wordpress’s blog surfer, so I know there have been more than 5000 views and I feel like Heavenfield is off to a good start.

In the way of a mini- preview for 2008, I also treated myself to a new book for Christmas… the newish paperback version of Barron and Burgess’s The Voyage of St Brendan: Representative Versions of the Legend in English Translation. This book contains medieval ‘translations’ of the voyage from Latin to Anglo-Norman, Dutch, German, Venetian, Occitan, Catalan, Norse and two English versions (South English Legendary and Caxton’s Golden Legend). These have all been translated into modern English. So lots of material for future posts.

Now medieval translations are not quite what we think of as translations today. A faithful medieval translation tells the same story as the original without adding or subtracting much, but still changes the language considerably. In other words, its never a word-for-word translation. Most medieval translations retell the story in their own way and freely add and subtract material. Sometimes their changes totally redirect story in a new direction or cut out an entire theme. It will be interesting to see what these ‘translations’ do with the spiritual/theological themes found in the Voyage, and if removal or alteration of this material explains why people link Brendan with the discovery of North America.

Dr Nokes post today on “Reading Medieval Allegory” got me thinking…. the Voyage of St Brendan is all allegory after all. Sure some think it was a real voyage out to discover America, and have even proven that it can be done in an Irish craft of the era, but any close reading of the text should be obvious that it is not a real voyage. To think it is real, you would have to ignore things like the fact that he goes round and round the same circle of places for seven years. A sailor like Brendan would never get that lost!

As Dr Nokes wrote:

“When the Gawain-poet stops to tell us what the five fives on the pentangle represent, he’s basically telling us, “Yup, the pentangle is an important symbol. Now that I’ve already established that for you, where are you going to take this poem?”

So it is in the Voyage of St Brendan that near the beginning of the voyage the steward explains to Brendan exactly where he will be spending the major feast days of the year and that he will be repeating that cycle for seven years! Don’t bother to try to get out of this whirlpool of destinations, its God’s will that you go back to spend every Easter vigil on the back of a great fish, and so you shall go! Now you figure out what the great fish means and why you must go back…

Don’t feel bad if you forget that Brendan is running in circles; after all, Brendan seems to forget fairly regularly and must be reminded by the authority figure of the island. Thus, reminders to the forgetful Brendan, serve to remind you dear reader, lest you forget and think that Brendan will find a shortcut to the Isle of the Saints. This also brings us to all those islands (or pseudo-islands) he visits; each is an allegory in itself. Yes…this is clearly a road-map to North America.

The church year is one of the central features of the Navigatio of St. Brendan, so I’m going to drop in for a visit with Brendan on his voyage as we make our way through the new church year of 2008 that begins with Advent.

As I discussed earlier, Brendan’s voyage to the Land of Promise is a voyage through the church year with specific destinations for each of the major church festivals and seasons. Brendan and his companions arrive at the Isle of St Ailbe during Advent and remain on the island for the entire Christmas season.

The most consistent legends of Ailbe (d. 52 make him a sixth century missionary bishop to the Munster region of Ireland (seated at Emly), and a disciple of St. Patrick. It is likely that Ailbe was considered the Apostle to Munster. Emly in Munster is land-locked so the Isle of St Ailbe is not a reference to the main site of Ailbe’s veneration. Brendan himself was from the kingdom of Munster.

The description of Brendan’s time with the island community of St Ailbe is described in chapter 12 of the Navigatio. I have heavily edited this to keep it brief. See the link in the line above for the full text.

Brendan and his monks arrive on the Isle of St. Ailbe days during the Advent season. After telling his monks to strictly maintain monastic silence and they had been greeted,

“Then he led them all into the refectory, in strict silence; ….Father abbot, in much cheerfulness, pressed his guests: ‘Brothers, from the fountain, out of which to-day you wished to drink stealthily, make now a loving cup in gladness and in the fear of the Lord. From the other fountain of foul water, which you saw, are the feet of the brethren washed, for it is always tepid. Those loaves of bread which you now see before you, we know not where they are prepared, or who brings them to our cellar; but we know well that, by the free gift of God, they are supplied to us, as an alms, by some obedient creature of His; and thus is fulfilled in our regard the words of divine truth; ‘Those who fear God want for nothing.’… thus it is that from the days of St Patrick and St Ailbe, our patriarchs, for eighty years until now, Christ provides us with sustenance. Moreover, neither old age nor bodily infirmities increase upon us here, were, in the paradise of God.

When the hours for the divine office and for Mass arrive, the lamps in our church, which, under God’s guidance, we brought with us from our own country, are set alight, and burn always without growing less.When vespers had concluded, St Brendan took heed of the structure of the church: it was a perfect square of equal length and breadth, and in it were seven lamps, so arranged that three of them hung before the central altar, and two before each of the side altars. All the altars were of crystal, and the chalices, paten as, cruets, and the other vessels required for the Divine Sacrifice were also of crystal. Around the church were ranged twenty-four benches, with the abbot’s seat between the two choirs of monks in rows on either side. No monk from either choir was allowed to intone the chant of the office, but the abbot; and throughout the monastery no voice was heard, nor any sound whatever…

When the office had concluded, the brethren went to their cells, taking their guests with them; but the abbot remained with St Brendan, in the church, to await the lighting of the lamps. The saint asked the father about about the rule of silence they observed; how such a mode of intercourse in a community was possible to flesh and blood. The abbot, with much reverence and humility, replied: ‘Holy father, I declare before the Lord, that during the eighty years that have passed since we came to this island, none of us has heard from the other the sound of the human voice, save only when we sing the praises of God. Amongst us twenty-four brothers, no voice is raised; but signs are made by the fingers or the eyes; and this is permitted only to the elder monks. None of us, since we came here, have suffered any infirmity of body or mind, such as may be fatal to mankind.’ Upon this St Brendan said with many tears: ‘Vouchsafe, I beseech thee, father abbot, to let us know whether we am permitted or not to abide here.’ The abbot rejoined: ‘You are not per­mitted, for such is not the will of God; but why do you ask me, when God had revealed to you, before you came to us, what you must do? You must return to your own country, where God has prepared for you, as well as for your fourteen companions, the place of sepulture. Of the other two monks, one will have his pilgrimage in the island of the anchorites; but the other will suffer in hell the worst of all deaths;’ and these events after­ward came to pass.

While they were thus conversing, behold, as they looked on, a fiery arrow, passing in through a window, set alight all the lamps that hung before the altars; and passing out through the same window, left the lamps burning. Then St Brendan inquired who would extinguish those lamps in the morning, and the abbot re­plied: ‘Come, and see the secret of all this: you observe those tapers burning in the vases; yet none of them is consumed, nor do they grow less, nor do any ashes remain in the morning, for the light is entirely spiritual.’ ‘How,’ said St Brendan, ‘can a spiritual flame thus burn in a material substance?’ ‘Have you not read,’ said the abbot, ‘of the burning bush, near Mount Sinai, which remained unconsumed by the burning?’ ‘Yes,’ said the saint, ‘I have read of this; When they had thus remained on watch until morn­ing, St Brendan asked permission to depart from the island, but the abbot replied: ‘No, O man of God, you must celebrate with us the festival of our Lord’s Nativity, and afford us the joy of your company until the Octave of Epiphany.’ The holy father, therefore, with his brethren, remained until that time on this Island of St Ailbe.” (from J. Wooding, Celtic E-Library)

The island community of St Ailbe is portrayed as a perpetual divine choir who exists only to praise God, in complete reliance on God, and is therefore provided with all its wants and needs. No one ages or gets ill; no one is too hot or too cold. The church itself is shown to be lit by heavenly light that does not consume its candles and the altar and sacred vessels are all made of pure crystal which only reflects the heavenly light. As the abbot tells Brendan, this is a type of paradise.

The community of St. Ailbe also recalls God’s providence during Exodus. The abbots continual reminders to Brendan of what has been decreed about his voyage and the fates of Brendan’s companions places the abbot in the role of a prophet. The abbot’s explanation of candle lit by divine light but not consumed is to remind Brendan of the burning bush upon Mount Sinai that is not consumed. Water is provided by two springs of water that may recall the bitter spring turned sweet by Moses who then decrees that if the Israelites will follow God’s commandments they will not suffer the illnesses and diseases of the Egyptians (Exodus 15:23-25). They take their sustenance from divinely provided bread recalls the manna provided from heaven on which the Israelites must rely for 40 years until they enter the promised land. The double share of bread on Sundays recalls the double portion of manna given to the Israelites on the sixth day of the week so that they will not have to gather the manna on the sabbath. The double portion consumed on Sunday, the sabbath, reflects an adaption to reflect contemporary monastic practices. Unlike the Israelites, the community of St Ailbe are satisfied to rely completely on God’s providence without complaint and so they continue on for 80 years, twice the 40 years that the Israelites wonder in the wilderness, and remain healthy and whole. Brendan is being shown that he must rely completely on God’s providence and protection on his exodus from the ‘wilderness of Sin’ (Exodus 16.1) toward the Land of Promise to his Saints.

Its seems odd that after the abbot explains all to Brendan, he then asks to leave the community the next day! The abbot reminds Brendan that he has already been told that he will remain with them until the eve of Epiphany, and so they must wait and learn patience. After previously asking if they could remain there forever, why is Brendan eager to leave? If he is eager to move his journey along, then he has failed to learn the lesson of patience, that the next stage will occur on God’s time and not his own. The seasons of Advent and Christmas are about anticipation of God’s great gift to the world in the birth of Christ, and celebration of the bounty of God. This anticipation is figured in the silent community where Brendan will wait in silent anticipation of the arrival of Christ into the world while completely dependent upon God’s bounty. For the community, this is not just an Advent discipline but a way of life that waits in anticipation of the second coming of Christ.

So now we must wait in anticipation of the Nativity and celebrate God’s bounty during the Christmas season before we continue along our journey with Brendan.

Ask and you shall receive… in one of my first posts on the feast of St. Brendan I suggested that there were enough clues in the Navigato Sancti Brendani to do a study of its use of the liturgy of hours. While browsing online this week, I came across the citation to just such a paper.

Thomas O’Loughlin (2006) “The Monastic Liturgy of the Hours in the Navigatio sancti Brendani: A Preliminary Investigation” Irish Theological Quarterly 71: 113-126.

Here are some of his main points:

• There was a lot of variation in the Liturgy of the Hours prior to the 9th century. The origins of the Liturgy of Hours in the Latin West is traced to Jerome (c. 342-420) and John Cassian (c. 360-435).
• Variations in Ireland included Rule of Columbanus (36 psalms on weekdays in winter/24 psalms on weekdays in summer, extra over Saturday-Sunday), and the Rule of the Celi De that demanded all 150 psalms every day. The Benedictine Rule, also present in Ireland, spreads the 150 psalms out over a full week.
• The author is heavily influenced by John Cassian and sometimes contrasts flaws that Cassian mentions with the ideal monasteries that our author describes.
• The narration of the liturgy of hours are exceptionally well described. On the Isle of the Birds the liturgy for all seven services of a full day are described. “What we are given is a glimpse of what the author imagines as the perfect liturgy of creatures at the perfect time.” (P. 11
• Liturgy of Ailbe’s island — built up imagery from the Apocalypse.
• Island of the Strong Men — pattern on Cassian again, almost all psalmology.
• O’Loughlin believes “the moral reading of the whole allegory: start to improve the Liturgy of Hours in which one is now a participant.” (p. 125)
• O’Loughlin concludes:

“Its value lies in that he shows us how it author understood the opus Dei which he preformed each day and the place he believed that it should hold within the monastic agenda. … his use of Cassian is of special significance as it shows him as someone who wishes to imagine his monasteries on the basis of the primary monastic imagery of the West. Moreover, when we not the simplicity and brevity of his various arrangements for the Liturgy of Hours, along with its underlying assumption that earthly prayer ‘blends in’ with the heavenly liturgy rather than being a desperate cry for help from an alien environment, then we possibly see an alternative monastic vision (and more sophisticated theology of prayer) to that being advanced by the Celi De movement which was gaining both disciples and reputation in the early-ninth century.” (p. 125-126).

This is a very interesting paper well worth the time of anyone interested in the history of the Liturgy of the Hours.