It’s been quite a while since I posted. The summer has been very busy with travels and family, but I’m now in a position to get back to posting. Given the date today, I thought a post from an old Irish source would be appropriate.
On this date in AD 565, St. Columba encountered the Loch Ness Monster. This was the first recorded sighting of Nessie. Adomnán, Columba’s biographer and the ninth abbot of the monastery Columba founded on Iona, recounts the story:
How an aquatic monster was driven off by virtue of the blessed man’s prayer
ON another occasion also, when the blessed man was living for some days in the province of the Picts, he was obliged to cross the river Nesa (the Ness); and when he reached the bank of the river, he saw some of the inhabitants burying an unfortunate man, who, according to the account of those who were burying him, was a short time before seized, as he was swimming, and bitten most severely by a monster that lived in the water; his wretched body was, though too late, taken out with a hook, by those who came to his assistance in a boat. The blessed man, on hearing this, was so far from being dismayed, that he directed one of his companions to swim over and row across the coble that was moored at the farther bank. And Lugne Mocumin hearing the command of the excellent man, obeyed without the least delay, taking off all his clothes, except his tunic, and leaping into the water. But the monster, which, so far from being satiated, was only roused for more prey, was lying at the bottom of the stream, and when it felt the water disturbed above by the man swimming, suddenly rushed out, and, giving an awful roar, darted after him, with its mouth wide open, as the man swam in the middle of the stream. Then the blessed man observing this, raised his holy hand, while all the rest, brethren as well as strangers, were stupefied with terror, and, invoking the name of God, formed the saving sign of the cross in the air, and commanded the ferocious monster, saying, ‘Thou shalt go no further, nor touch the man; go back with all speed.’ Then at the voice of the saint, the monster was terrified, and fled more quickly than if it had been pulled back with ropes, though it had just got so near to Lugne, as he swam, that there was not more than the length of a spear-staff between the man and the beast. Then the brethren seeing that the monster had gone back, and that their comrade Lugne returned to them in the boat safe and sound, were struck with admiration, and gave glory to God in the blessed man. And even the barbarous heathens, who were present, were forced by the greatness of this miracle, which they themselves had seen, to magnify the God of the Christians.*
What are we to make of this story?
The Monster
This story occurred in the River Ness, which flows from Loch Ness. Pictish stone carvings from near Loch Ness dating from the 6th century or earlier depict a large finned aquatic creature, though whether they are intended to depict a specific creature in the loch is unclear. Through the Middle Ages, we have accounts of supernatural water creatures from Scottish folklore in various lochs, including a family of kelpies (fey water horses) in Loch Ness, but that’s about all. After that, we have 21 accounts of a monster in the loch between 1500 and 1800. More accounts emerged in the late 19th century, but the legend only really got going in the 1930s due to photographs ostensibly of the monster. Once that started, people pointed back to this incident in St. Columba’s life to show that Nessie existed as far back as the sixth century.
So much for the monster. While this is what interests us as moderns, it isn’t the point of the narrative, which has to do with St. Columba’s spiritual authority and the power of God.
The Challenge of Irish hagiography
At this point, a word on hagiography—the biographies of saints—is in order. Irish hagiography generally focused on the saints as prophets and wonderworkers. Adomnán’s account of St. Columba’s life does exactly that. The question is, how literally were we intended to take these stories? When St. Columba does miracles that echo those done by Jesus or the Old Testament prophets, are we to take them as things that really happened, or are they intended to say St. Columba was a very Christlike and was a prophet like those in Scripture? In other words, are they intended to be literal or symbolic or both?
Another characteristic of Irish hagiography is that they are often presented as Christian versions of ancient Irish hero tales. Thus, for example, the Voyage of St. Brendan is a Christian Imram, a genre of stories about supernatural adventures of a hero on the sea. The Irish saints are thus depicted as Christian heroes like the heroes of old, except that they triumph through faith, godliness, and the power of Christ rather than through swords and sorcery.
So this raises additional questions: To what extent were the ancient legends of the heroes believed to be literal as opposed to being known exaggerations, symbolic, or simply entertaining? If they were not seen as literal, is this how they would have understood the hagiographies? Specifically, is St. Columba being described using traditional tropes of a hero vanquishing a monster? And if so, would the readers or listeners have understood this as literal or symbolic? Was it meant as entertainment, history, or as a symbolic story showing the power of the Gospel? Was the monster meant to be literal, or symbolic of sin, vice, or spiritual attack?
Lots of questions, few answers.
The Mythic Dimension of Stories
C.S. Lewis’s understanding of myth included the idea that myth connected us to a reality deeper than reason and experience could reach. As such, myths can be interpreted multiple ways and have a variety of meanings. I suspect that that may be the case in folklore and in all good stories. The fact that we can raise so many questions interpret St. Columba’s story here in so many ways shows that it has a mythic quality, and thus it would be a mistake to dismiss it as just pious fiction. Whatever we think of what may or may not have happened, the story points to meanings beyond the literal that are worth pondering.
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