The restored shrine of St Alban
I was at the Bright Lights festival a few days ago, which ended with a pilgrimage to the shrine of St Alban in St Alban’s Abbey. I’ve always known that he is Britain’s first martyr, but another obvious thought struck me very forcefully for the first time: that he is our first ever saint. Of course there could have been many other holy men and women before him, but Alban is the first we know about, the first to be honoured as a saint, the first whose shrine still stands.
Here, in this town where I happened to go to school, is where things began. This is where our pagan culture first encountered the beauty and mystery of Christianity. This is where Christianity began to transform that culture from within, not as a threat or a danger, but as a seed of hope, a vision of what the human heart longs for but hardly dares to believe.
If you don’t know Alban’s story, here is a short biography:
St Alban was the first martyr in the British Isles; he was put to death at Verulamium (now called Saint Albans after him), perhaps during the persecution under the emperor Diocletian. According to the story told by St Bede, Alban sheltered in his house a priest who was fleeing from his enemies. He was so impressed by the goodness of his guest that he eagerly received his teaching and became a Christian. In a few days it was known that the priest lay concealed in Alban’s house, and soldiers were sent to seize him. Thereupon Alban put on the priest’s clothes and gave himself up in his stead to be tried.
The judge asked Alban, “Of what family are you?” The saint answered, “That is a matter of no concern to you. I would have you know that I am a Christian.” The judge persisted, and the saint said, “I was called Alban by my parents, and I worship the living and true God the creator of all things.”
Then the judge said, “If you wish to enjoy eternal life, sacrifice to the great gods at once!” The judge was angered at the priest’s escape and threatened Alban with death if he persisted in forsaking the gods of Rome. He replied firmly that he was a Christian, and would not burn incense to the gods. He was condemned to be beaten and then beheaded.
As he was led to the place of execution (traditionally the hill on which Saint Albans abbey church now stands) a miracle wrought by the saint so touched the heart of the executioner that he flung down his sword, threw himself at Alban’s feet, avowing himself a Christian, and begged to suffer either for him or with him. Another soldier picked up the sword, and in the words of Bede, “the valiant martyr’s head was stricken off, and he received the crown of life which God has promised to those who love Him.”
The feast of St Alban is kept on the twenty-second day of June each year.
To those of us who lead relatively cosy and protected lives in 21st century Britain, the story of St Alban is an inspiration. Other than at school, the very worst type of abuse I have experienced due to my faith is a gentle snigger or questioning about the ilogical or unscientific nature of the Christian faith. We should all be grateful to our martyred forefathers like St Alban who demonstrated their faith by paying the ultimate price.
fascinating. I just totally Love the martyr’s and saints stories, they are so inspiring. Like real life faerie tales full of kindness and wisdom and Love and evil and carnage But ultimately goodness and light conquers the darkness.
I have just been to the Catholic church in Canterbury and saw a relic (a finger bone) of St Thomas, though I was unsure if it were Thomas Moore or Thomas Becket, and also Oscar Romero’s white cassock. And then to the Cathedral where a single poignant candle sands burning for Thomas Becket, how beautiful. what a beautiful way to be remembered. I am told that he was never actually canonised by Rome but am unsure as to the truth of this.
All this talk of Saints is highly relevant with Cardinal Newman’s Beatification. Being so significant I will read up on both Newman and St Alban. Before (when I had no formal faith) I went to St Albans. In early days my husbands accountant was based there, but alas I was not then captured by such teachings, and they sailed rght passed me. But now that I am on that curve I find them inspiring and amazing.
“beauty at once so ancient and so new”!
over night I kept thinking about Simon’s post. I know that as a parent I, as most others would die for each of my children and for those whom I Love.
This gives you the magnitude of the greatness that the saints have given, dying for God whom is already alive beyond death. To believe that in dying, ones death can speak the gospels louder than living and vocally spreading them, is truly awesome, and that is without mentioning the MIRACLES.
It takes my breath away. Thankfully not all saints die a violent death. There is Hope!
Mag’s post has made me think further to my recent post. It brought to mind the thought of all those ‘normal’ people who, very quietly and without any fuss or recognition, go about their daily lives doing the good work they do in Christ’s name. This really brought home to me the notion I was taught in my preparation for reception into the Church of the ‘Church militant’ which we are all part of in this life.