St Columba's to blame for a monster being Scotland's claim to fame

Much of what we know about him comes from a hagiography written a century later, so a lot of what follows is probably rubbish.

In general, though, we can say that, for a saint, he was quite a good person, though apparently a bit shouty. We also know that, while he’s one of us noo, he was actually Irish, having been born to a well-connected family on 7 December 521 in Gartan, part of modern Donegal.

It’s said by drunks that an angel appeared to his mother and prophesied the infant in her womb would grow into “a son of such flower that he shall be reckoned as one of the prophets”. Fragrant stuff.

Columba, or Colmcille/Colum Cille (“dove of the church”; and not “pigeon”, as Google Translate had it), claimed descent as great-great-great-grandson from Niall of the Nine Hostages, a 4th or 5th century king who may not have existed.

As a wee boy, Colum stoated into a monastic school at Newtownards and later, aged 20, was taught by an aged bard called Gemmna in Leinster, before entering the monastery of Clonard.

He was reportedly a striking figure of great stature, with a loud voice that he used to shout at folk to start building monasteries all over Ireland.

So far so pious. After this, it gets murky. The story – not necessarily the truth – goes that, around 560, Columba became involved in a quarrel over ownership of a book of yon psalms. The King of Ireland got involved, and the whole stramash ended in the Battle of Cúl Dreimhne, during which Columba’s warrior family prevailed and 3,000 men were killed.

Columba felt bad about the bloodshed, saying that was the last time he loaned a book out, and sought guidance from his confessor, a hermit called Molaise, who told him to leave Ireland and convert as many folk to Christianity as had been killed in his stupid battle.

Got leathered

Accordingly, in 563, aged 42, Columba travelled to Scotland with 12 companions in a currach, a wicker boat covered with leather. And you thought CalMac was bad.

He landed first on the Kintyre Peninsula, near Southend. However, this being still in sight of his native land, he sailed further up the west coast, landing on Iona on 12 May (somebody must have been keeping a diary). The island was supposedly gifted by his kinsman, Conall mac Comgaill, King of Dál Riata.

Here, Columba set about building an abbey from clay and wood, and established a monastic community. Among dafter, though not necessarily untrue, tales from this period is one that says he banished women and coos from the island, claiming that “where there is a coo there is a woman, and where there is a woman there is mischief”. It’s also said he banished frogs and snakes, though it’s not clear how he managed this.

Pagan persuasion

From his island base, Columba set about converting yon pagans, starting among the nearby Scots of Dalriada before trying his luck with the more difficult Picts of the north.

He chapped the door of one King Bridei at his fortress overlooking what’s now Inverness, but the Pict hid behind the curtains, pretending he wasn’t in. Columba made the sign of the cross and, lo, the barred gates did open. Bridei was so impressed with this wheeze that he converted immediately.

Stories of other miracles during this period bound, the most famous being Columba’s humbling of yon Loch Ness Monster in 565. After hearing a “water beast” had killed a local man, the saint sent one of his followers into the water (“Why me?”) and, verily, the monster showed up for seconds.

563 AD, Irish missionary Saint Columba (c. 521 - 597), known as the Apostle of Caledonia, sailing with his twelve disciples to the island of Iona on the west coast of Scotland. Columba worked to convert the Picts to Christianity

However, again, Columba made the sign of the cross and instructed the beast: “Do not touch the man.” Monster: “How no’?” Columba: “Just go back at once, ken?” The monster thought, ‘Maybe he knows kung fu like yon Chinese monk off the telly’, and disappeared beneath the waves.

With capers like this, Columba’s reputation grew and, subsequently, he became a respected mediator in inter-tribal politics. Back home, on the island, he turned his monastery into a school for missionaries, as well as writing several hymns and transcribing 300 books.

According to traditional sources, Columba died on Iona on Sunday, 9 June 597, and was buried in the abbey he’d built. Adamnan, the hagiographer, recorded: “After his soul had left the tabernacle of the body, his face still continued ruddy, and brightened in a wonderful way by his vision of the angels, and that to such a degree that he had the appearance, not so much of one dead, as of one alive and sleeping.”

Saints above!

Colmcille is one of the three patron saints of Ireland, and also – it says here – of floods, bookbinders and poets. He was nearly patron saint of Scotland but was defeated by St Andrew after penalties and extra time.

Various clans – notably McCallum and MacKinnon, the latter providing abbots of Iona for centuries – claim descent from Columba.

The cathedral of the Catholic Diocese of Argyll and the Isles comes under the saint’s patronage, as do numerous Catholic schools and parishes throughout Scotland. The Scottish Episcopal Church, Church of Scotland, and Evangelical Lutheran Church of England also have parishes dedicated to him. And, in Canada and the US, his name attaches to numerous Catholic, Anglican and Presbyterian parishes. Kilmacolm in Renfrewshire derives from Colmcille's name.

As a chap who never shied from conflict, Columba was revered as a warrior saint, with his relics carried before Scottish armies in a reliquary called the Brecbennoch. Legend has it that this Brecbennoch was present at the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314, where the saint’s intercession allegedly helped the vastly outnumbered Scots to victory. Don’t want to take the edge off the famous triumph, but that sounds like cheatin’.