contradictions and contrasts at the seaside town of Whitby
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St Hilda might turn in her grave if she saw the modern Yorkshire town she helped to put on the map in the 7th Century, but there is still enough light to inspire a pilgrimage.
Pottering around the quaint streets of Whitby, a visitor’s senses are bombarded: the beautiful little old houses, the sound and the smells of the sea and the majestic cliffs that contain it, crowds of British holidaymakers at varying stages of drunkenness, and an awful lot of images of Dracula.
The fictional vampire’s entry to the UK via Whitby in Bram Stoker’s late Victorian novel has made this small Yorkshire town into a haven for goths and seekers of the supernatural.
It probably wasn’t the author’s intention to create such a fascination and interest in darkness – he said the name “Dracula” meant “devil” and his intentions were probably to warn rather than entice.
With all the occult imagery that exists today, it’s hard to imagine that this was once an important centre in the foundation of Christian England. Yet towering over the town is evidence: the impressive ruins of Whitby Abbey, and the Anglican church next door, which is still active, though only just. On the Saturday I visited, there had been just nine worshippers attending that morning.
Whitby Abbey’s demise was caused by the nemesis of all of our ancient abbeys: Henry VIII and his desire to get divorced and so create his own church to allow it. But the visible stone ruins were built in the 13th Century and so are not the remnants of the site’s most important era. For that, we have to return to a much earlier time in Anglo Saxon England that occurred even before destructive Viking raids caused a hiatus in worship there – to the 7th Century and the very beginnings of Christendom in this land.
This era is associated with a woman whose name has been adopted by both CofE and Catholic churches in the North Yorkshire town: St Hilda. We don’t know much about her, not because of a patriarchal conspiracy, as some might like to believe, but because our historical sources from that time are limited. We rely on the monk Bede and his “Ecclesiastical History of the English People” – written in 731 and preserved through the ages – to learn about her and the early spread of the faith in England. He spends a lot of time discussing Hilda, and he clearly values her influence on the church that he inherited just a generation later.
St Hilda was born in 614 into royalty, Bede writes, in the kingdom of what is now known as Northumbria, although borders changed and merged regularly in this turbulent time in the country’s history. Her life spanned the 7th Century as various kings and kingdoms were converted to Christianity – or not. Her faith was sparked by her relative King Edwin of Northumbria, who married a Christian woman and then converted along with all his court. They were baptised at a site near today’s York Minster, well before the grand stone cathedral was built.
But an invasion by a pagan rival forced them to flee south. Hilda was therefore influenced by the mission from Pope St Gregory the Great in Rome, led by the first Archbishop of Canterbury, Augustine, in 597, to convert the pagans here. When she became a nun at the age of 33, she came under the authority of St Aidan, the Irish monk who founded a monastery on Lindisfarne and helped to spread the faith in the North. She then ran a monastery in Hartlepool called “Heruteu” which had been set up by another woman who had been the first nun in the area, according to Bede.
The historian continues:
“Hilda, the handmaid of Christ, being set over that monastery, began immediately to order it in all things under a rule of life, according as she had been instructed by learned men; for Bishop Aidan, and others of the religious that knew her, frequently visited her and loved her heartily, and diligently instructed her, because of her innate wisdom and love of the service of God.”
She was then asked to start a monastery in Whitby, where she would lead until her death at 66-years-old, and influenced many towards Christ. Bede writes:
“[She] taught there the strict observance of justice, piety, chastity, and other virtues, and particularly of peace and charity; so that, after the example of the primitive Church, no one there was rich, and none poor, for they had all things common, and none had any private property. Her prudence was so great, that not only meaner men in their need, but sometimes even kings and princes, sought and received her counsel; she obliged those who were under her direction to give so much time to reading of the Holy Scriptures, and to exercise themselves so much in works of justice, that many might readily be found there fit for the priesthood and the service of the altar.”
Bede writes that five Bishops originally came from her monastery under her influence, and she encouraged the hymn writer Caedmon too. As she became ill and suffered in the last years of her life, she never failed to show thanks to God.
Perhaps it was this stellar reputation that led her monastery to become the site of one of the most important events of the Christian faith in 664.
England had been blessed by both the Roman Christian mission from the south and a Celtic mission from the north – originally from Ireland, which itself was evangelised by the British St Patrick.
It is the contrast between these two church traditions that led to Whitby taking its place in the history of Christian England. The Synod of Whitby – then known as “Streanaeshalch” – was the meeting that decided for adopting Roman traditions such as the dating of Easter in England rather than the Celtic way. Our modern perceptions of this historical event are somewhat tainted by whichever ‘side’ we sit on the post-Reformation acrimonious divisions of Christianity. But in reality it was a practical matter of making Christian practice uniform in this country.
The names of these ancient saints are still regularly evoked in the names of churches, streets and Christian schools throughout the area and they are still venerated by both the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches today. Perhaps if the churches recover St Hilda, St Augustine, St Patrick and St Aidan’s desire for holiness, unity and the conversion of pagans, we might see a new transformation in this land, as they worked for so long ago?
Seeking God at Whitby today
There are a number of monasteries in the area that receive visitors, though only one in Whitby itself, the Anglican community at St Hilda’s Priory. The relatively new Orthodox monastery St Athanasius is not too far away, nor are Christian communities in Scarborough and York.
Most visitors to Whitby will traipse up the 199 steps that lead to the Abbey, though you can reach it by car, too. Adjacent is the Anglican church with gift shop, some houses, a caravan site and a brewery.
English Heritage owns the site of the Abbey itself, and like at Rievaulx, charges adults £15 to enter unless you are a member. However it’s possible to walk around the walls of the site and get a good view of the majestic ruins. The Abbey’s gift shop mostly sells Dracula memorabilia, wine and revisionist histories – but there was at least a copy of Bede’s history, in which pilgrims can be inspired by the dedication of the faithful missionaries who converted England.
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