In Search of the Mystery of God

Cuthbert is given the Herculean task of winning the Lindisfarne monks over to the Benedictine rule of life, which he, himself, has only newly adopted after the Synod of Whitby. But, despite the bitterness and aggression shown towards him by those who were reluctant to change, he remained patient, kind, and sensitive to others, yet strong and resolute. Also interesting that Bede understands the 'tedium' of the long nights of prayer. There is nothing romantic here, just hard graft. This passage gives us the greatest insight into the daily monastic life Cuthbert experienced as prior of Lindisfarne, and it is deeply moving in its humanity.

Jesus feeds the crowds with bread and fishes, and the disciples report what the whole country, including Herod, is saying about Jesus' identity. Then Peter utters the ultimate profession, "You are the Christ of God." There it is. But how little he realises what he has said, for then comes the call to participate with Jesus in the redemption of the world, to be partakers with him of Earth's restoration - "take up your cross daily and follow me."

Something about Cuthbert's sensitivity to others allows him to hear the Holy Spirit speaking through a husband's distress. There is no doubt that his life of disciplined prayer, praise, worship and work has transformed him into an effective bearer of God's healing presence. This is nothing to do with 'works', and everything to do with cultivating the good soil of which Jesus speaks, that allows God's grace to grow and flourish, with the resulting benefits to the world around. And his sensitivity to the Spirit allows him to 'see' what is about to happen. We call it 'prophecy'. Cuthbert is on his way to becoming fully human.

Jesus, of course, is the ultimate bearer of full humanity - completely aligned with God and hence creation. That he can sense power going out of him when the woman touched his cloak means both that Jesus felt the Spirit's activity at work, and that the Spirit in him responded to the woman's faith without Jesus actively performing the healing. This is the judgement of God at work - bringing healing, restoration and joy.

The second of two stories about villages catching fire. This time the fire is real and Cuthbert takes it more seriously. We learn another piece of evidence suggesting that Cuthbert probably was from an aristocratic family as he was brought up by a wet nurse, of whom he clearly remained very fond. But he still had to take his turn looking after the sheep on the hills at night as a young lad.

Perhaps the most extraordinary aspect of the story Gerasene demoniac is the conversation Jesus has with the demons. They, terrified of annihilation, 'beg him not to send them into the abyss', and he shows them mercy, sending them into the herd of swine instead. What does this tell us about demons? What does it tell us about Jesus?

The first of a pair of stories about villages catching fire. In this one the fire is a 'phantom' fire that roars and crackles, is spread by the wind, appears to do damage, but can't be extinguished with water. Its purpose is distraction, rather like the seed choked by thorns and thistles. It is only overcome by Cuthbert's prayer, whereupon it vanishes. Fire is a metaphor for many different types of trial and ordeal, as Bede makes clear at the end of tomorrow's reading.

The fire on the stand is a metaphor for God's lamp on our lives - nothing that we do is hidden, so take care to put Jesus' words into practice. Its an extension of the parable of the sower. But putting these words into practice brings us into the new Eden, and the garden of God's presence. Hence we become his mother and brothers and sisters. The garden is creation, of which all the elements are a part. Hence Jesus calms the storm on the Sea of Galilee on the way to the land of the Gerasenes.

The only time in Cuthbert's 'Vita' that we possibly find him angry. And probably my favourite story of Cuthbert, perhaps even for that reason. I apologise in advance for the disturbing shock in the middle of it, but it is the only way I know how to read it. This story, more than any other, underlines the Anglo-Saxon understanding of our co-equality with the rest of creation before God. How we desperately need to re-recognise this essential truth of Genesis and the Cross - we are all as much part of Christ's Church as each other, although we bear the greater responsibility, having received the breath of God in our nostrils, and so been called to be the priests of creation (Ex 19:6). The Anonymous 'Life of Cuthbert' tells us that the river in question was the Teviot in what is now the Scottish borders.

Jesus' itinerant ministry, and that of his male disciples, is enabled by the sacrifice and continual support of a host of women, most of whom are unsung heroines (not unlike the church of today).

The parable of the sower is another one of those familiar stories where we, perhaps too easily, place ourselves into the category of the good soil. But Lent is precisely the time for re-examing that assumption, and, if we do so, the story suddenly takes on a disturbing quality...

Somewhat optimistically Cuthbert and companions set off on a winter’s sailing trip without provisions, and come unstuck. It seems that Cuthbert is not a great planner; there are several of these stories where he runs out of provisions while on a journey. Rather, he lives in the moment and trusts God for the rest. And if that means he goes hungry, he uses the opportunity to fast and pray. The fact that he spends so much time praying and singing the psalms (he would have known the entire psalter by heart) meant that his mind would be saturated with 'God-thinking' all the time, or, as St Paul puts it in his first letter to Thessalonica, "praying without ceasing." It results in a very different outlook on life.

The Gospel story is one of those that deeply attracts us to Jesus both for his compassion and his exposure of hypocrisy. But we mustn't forget the scandal that lies behind it. If the woman was a hardened prostitute or 'sex-worker', what turned her? And what made her think that Jesus would have compassion on her, unless he had already spent much time in the company of women. We get other hints of it, such as at the Crucifixion in Matthew's Gospel, where there was a great crowd of women who had followed him from Galilee.

The Pharisee didn't actually love little; according to Jesus, he didn't love at all. In other words, he had zero concept of his own sin. The only reason he invited Jesus for dinner was to see whether he was what he claimed. But Jesus' rebuke seems to have hit its mark. The fact that the Pharisee is named thrice in the passage, 'Simon', strongly suggests that he became one of Jesus' disciples, at least after the Resurrection, if not before, and was known to Luke. The particulars in the story are unique to Luke, so perhaps it was even he that told him the story.

Perhaps the best known of the stories about Cuthbert. Yet if anyone thought 'Celtic' Christianity, or more correctly Irish monasticism, a romantic idealism, this story must surely dispel any such myth. Cuthbert spends night after night up to his armpits secretly praying in the freezing North Sea, reciting the psalms. Nobody even knew he was doing it until after his death. This level of asceticism is utterly alien to most of us these days, but it clearly wasn't in those: Bede's focus is not on the severity of Cuthbert's vigil, but what happened after it. The spying monk is terrified, not because he has watched Cuthbert praying in the sea, but precisely because the service of the otters demonstrates their recognition of his holiness: the Garden of Eden, humanity's relation with the rest of creation, is being restored. In other words, Cuthbert is validated as a 'holy man', a living saint, by God, and you know it because of the way the animals treat him; that's what terrifies him. But note this only appears to be achieved through relentless ascetic prayer. This restoration of creation is a central theme in the Anglo-Saxon understanding of Christian salvation in general, and the monastic vocation in particular. It's there on both the Bewcastle and Ruthwell crosses.

John the Baptist needs to know whether his cousin is 'the face of the Lord' before whom he, as the prophet of Isaiah 40, has been preparing the way. Jesus' answer to him is to simply look at the evidence and see chapter 61 of Isaiah bursting into life around him in the desert.

But the really remarkable phrase he utters is at the end of our passage - 'Wisdom is justified by all her children.' In other words, look at this evidence and recognise, and understand, whose fruits these are. Here Jesus claims to be Wisdom, the creator, healer and restorer, personified throughout the Old Testament, and especially in Proverbs, as the presence of God in his creation - 'I was with God in the beginning...' (Prov 8:22-30). Now that's audacious.

On Boisil's death, Cuthbert takes over as head of the monastery at Melrose. Bede spends a lot of time describing Cuthbert's ministry, not just within the cloister, but more significantly, without it. He is driven by genuine compassion to seek out those that no-one else will visit because of their remoteness and poverty. This description of his life is so important to Bede that he repeats this entire chapter, word-for-word, in 'Ecclesiastical History of the English People', his most famous and widely read work. It says as much about Bede as it does about Cuthbert.

Jesus continues his sermon on the Mount - wonderful in its colour, its pithy stories and amusing analogies. At one moment, encouraging; the next, scathing. But although they are often binary in their presentation (good/bad, wise/foolish), yet their content is subtle - hearing or listening; observing others or observing self, teaching or learning.

Then we move on to two extraordinary healing stories. The first with the centurion, remarkable because he is the first recorded Gentile to approach Jesus for healing, but also because of the insight he draws from watching Jesus' ministry - clearly, if someone can heal, they are validated by God, working under his authority. The second at Nain, because Jesus touches an unclean (dead) body, and remains (ritually) clean, uncontaminated by it, bringing the boy back to life. But only the Temple has the power to cleanse. So what does that make Jesus? It is not lost on those who are observing...

Having founded, and been given oversight of the new monastery at Ripon, Eata, Cuthbert, and the rest of the monks are kicked out when the king is persuaded to give it over the Wilfred, newly returned from Rome, instead. The year is 664, a year of plague and the Synod of Whitby, where Wilfred wins the argument over the calculation for the date of Easter, and the type of monastic discipline monks should follow (epitomised in the Roman (Petrine) or Irish (druidic) tonsure).

They return to Melrose, but both Boisil and Cuthbert are struck down by the plague. Cuthbert goes on to recover, although with a legacy of lasting pain in his thigh, but Boisil does not. The two spend Boisil's last week together, reading and studying John's Gospel, in preparation for Boisil's forthcoming elevation to Glory.

In the final words of the chapter we discover one of the great demons with which Cuthbert wrestled his entire life - the attraction of wealth. Odd for someone who chose to live in such poverty and asceticism, while seeking out the poorest to minister to them. Or perhaps not.

Jesus continually tries to open the eyes of his people to see that the Sabbath is about abiding in God's presence, where healing and wholeness belong (hence whole-iness, from which our word 'holiness' derives), not legalistic interpretations about how many steps you are allowed to walk. That's the point of the 7th Day. But while the ordinary folk hunger and thirst for it, the leaders just can't see it. So we move to Luke's version of the Sermon on the Mount.

Abbot Eata took Cuthbert and some of the other monks from Melrose south, to the newly-built monastery at Ripon, leaving Boisil in charge. At this stage they were still following the Irish monastic tradition, rather than the Roman (that was to change after the Synod of Whitby in 664). Cuthbert is given the role of guestmaster, the public face of the monastery. The practices of hospitality related in the story are humbling in the way they are taken for granted by Bede. But on one particular occasion a young guest turns out to something unexpected.