Skip to main content

St Winefride and her well

I promised that I would tell you how I got on to this pilgrimage business in the first place. The hook was a chance encounter with a seventh-century saint named Winefride; the hook turned out to be connected to a line, which was a pilgrimage route from Shrewsbury to Holywell; and once I pulled on that line, it just kept unspooling into a whole fishing net's worth of new discoveries.

Icon of St Winefride in Shrewsbury Abbey

St Winefride was the unlikely subject of a Bible study at my homegroup. Niece of the Welsh saint Beuno, she was determined to be a nun. However, a man named Caradog was equally determined that she should become his wife. When she refused, he cut off her head with his sword. Fortunately St Beuno had heard Winefride's cries, and, arriving at the scene, placed her head back onto her body, and restored her to life. Caradog met an untimely end, Winefride was able to pursue her calling into a nunnery, and at the place where her head fell, there arose a spring of water which became known as St Winefride's Well.

Evangelical Christians, while being sure that all the resurrections in the Bible definitely happened, tend to be sceptical about the resurrection of seventh-century saints. I realise this is not entirely logical. St Winefride's story was not received with any great enthusiasm by my homegroup, but something about it stuck with me. The spring associated with her still exists, in Holywell, North Wales, and has been a shrine continuously since the Middle Ages. At some point in the 12th century, Winefride's remains were moved to Shrewsbury Abbey. And so there was formed a 70-mile pilgrimage route between the two places.

But once you've got from Shrewsbury to Holywell, why stop there? You can join the North Wales Pilgrim's Way and walk all the way to Bardsey Island, reputedly the burial place of 20 000 saints, although I haven't figured out who they all were yet. Or you can turn east and get to Chester, then follow the Two Saints Way from the shrine of St Werburgh in Chester Cathedral, 92 miles to Lichfield Cathedral, dedicated to St Chad (I wrote a poem about him, once).


Lichfield Cathedral

Suddenly the map of Britain changes. Saints pop up like jack-in-the-boxes: Cuthbert, Frideswide, Aiden, Catherine, Kentigern. Pilgrim routes criss-cross the countryside, leading to Canterbury, Walsingham, Lindisfarne. Around every corner, it seems, is a healing well, a stone circle, an ancient yew tree, a ruined abbey. The land speaks of long ages of faith.

I knew, of course, that pilgrimage was a big thing in the Middle Ages. I can't claim to have read much of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, but I've at least heard of it. What I didn't know is how popular it has become again today. Britain doesn't seem to have quite caught up with some of the European routes, which have extensive signposting and low-cost hostels along the way. But some churches on pilgrim ways now offer "Night Sanctuary", allowing you to stay overnight, and there are no end of guidebooks and tour companies on offer.

At some point, I suppose, I will have to stop writing about pilgrimage and start walking! The Peak Pilgrimage from Ilam to Eyam is tempting as a first attempt. At 35 miles, it sounds relatively manageable in a long weekend, and has youth hostels at regular intervals along the path. Plus the start point is only a half-hour drive away. Shrewsbury to Holywell might have to wait a while, as that is definitely a week's walking, and a little more complicated to arrange. Meanwhile, I am following along with Pete Greig on Lectio 365, as he journeys from Iona to Lindisfarne, and stretching my legs by continuing with the National Forest Way.


St Winefride, you've got a lot to answer for!

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mr White Watson of Bakewell

Once upon a time, back in 1795 or so, lived a man who was always asking questions.  The kind of questions like, "Why is glass transparent?" or "Why do fruit trees grow better in that place than in this place?" or "What does the earth look like underneath the surface?"  This last question was one that he was particularly interested in, and he went so far as to work out what the rock layers looked like where he lived, and draw little pictures of them.  Now he was a marble sculptor by trade (as well as fossil hunter, mineral seller, and a few other things) so he thought it would be even better to make his little pictures in stone.  That way he could represent the layers using the actual rocks they were composed of.  Over the course of his lifetime he made almost 100 of these tablets, as he called them. Then he died.  And no one else was quite as interested in all those rocks and minerals as he was.  His collection was sold off, bit by bit, and the table...
Post a Comment
Read more

Birmingham: Temples to many things

Birmingham's cathedral is overshadowed by more modern temples: the mirrored swirls of New Street train station; the dotted bulge of the Selfridges store; the lacy blocks of the library; the pillars and pediments of the museum and art gallery. Museum and town hall Next to all these, Birmingham Cathedral, in its square of dusty grass, isolated from the main flow of shopping and travel, seems less like a dominant building and more like a minor chapel. It turns out the unpretentiousness is deliberate. St Philip's Church was built in 1715 when the worshipping population of Birmingham had outgrown the medieval constraints of St Martin in the Bullring . Birmingham remained part of the Diocese of Worcester until 1905, when Charles Gore pushed for the creation of a new diocese and became its first bishop. Seeing the depth of need in the city, he decided to convert St Philip's to a cathedral rather than spend money on a grand new building. Birmingham Cathedral had to be restored afte...
Post a Comment
Read more

Southwell Minster, Newark-on-Trent, and a pilgrim cellist

You may remember that I recently mentioned people doing weird and wonderful things. Well, I found another one. Last year, Kenneth Wilson visited all 42 English cathedrals. On a bike. With a cello. It was a cargo bike; the whole setup, cello and all, weighed about 50 kg; and he mostly managed a rate of one cathedral per day, with occasional rest days and train journeys where absolutely necessary. That's a lot of cycling. Of course, he wrote a book about it, and when I found out he was on the schedule at Newark Book Festival, I had to go. It also provided the perfect excuse to visit Southwell Minster. Newark-on-Trent feels like it is in the depths of the Nottinghamshire countryside, but it isn't actually hard to get to, I thought as I buzzed along the dual carriageways of the A50, A453, A52 and A46 on a sunny Sunday morning. All along the route, the grass stood bleached and crispy, scorched by the summer heat.  Newark Castle with crispy grass The author event was at the National...
Post a Comment
Read more