Today, March 20, is the feast of Saint Cuthbert, bishop of Lindisfarne who died in 687, and whose body was later moved to Durham after Viking raids. Durham thus became the cult centre, and his body was ultimately translated to its present location in the Norman cathedral in 1104.
Cuthbert is the subject of many legends, and his importance and popularity have ensured him - and been ensured by - a range of biographical accounts. I hope to return to the subject of his legend in future blogposts. For the present post, however, I rather wish to present a poem of my own composition taking as its starting point one of the perhaps most beloved stories about Cuthbert in recent times. The story, recorded in a twelfth-century manuscript now in the British Library (MS Yates Thompson 26, folio 24r), tells of how Cuthbert was meditating by the sea and decided to go for a swim. When he returned, some otters came up to him and dried his feet with their warm breath. Several modern depictions of Saint Cuthbert have embraced this story.
Cuthbert and the otters, a story in three parts
MS. Yates Thompson 26, f.24r, prose life of Cuthbert, Durham, late 12th century
Courtesy of British Library
Little lives - a hymn for St. Cuthbert
After an illumination in BL MS. Yates Thompson 26, f. 24r
I thought of Cuthbert sitting by the water,
his head in Heaven and his feet on earth,
and how the little otters crept up to him
to keep him warm. He must have seen the worth
of little lives inhabiting Creation
whose time was praise for Him who gave them birth.
Perhaps he also felt this strange sensation:
that he was also small and still had worth.
- April 06 2014