Saint Wilfrið of York
The other holy Northern Englishman whom we celebrate today is no whit less dynamic a personality than Saint Éadwine whose feast-day he shares. Saint Wilfrið, Archbishop of York, is a personage whose influence and charisma are so pervasive that they colour the entire history of the English Church after him. As a bishop he was politically as well as spiritually active, and had a rather contentious streak. He had a certain knack for stepping on toes both sæcular and ecclesiastical, and getting himself exiled from England by less-than-appreciative kings and fellow bishops. He was: a partizan of the Roman custom for dating Pascha; a champion of poor folk against noble exploitation; a sympathiser (understandably) with clergy in exile; and a tireless promoter of the Benedictine Rule and monastic life in England.
Wilfrið was born during the same ‘hateful year’ that Éadwine died: 633. It seems that he lost his mother during the hunger and blight that afflicted Northumbria at the time. His father remarried, although young Wilfrið did not get along with his new stepmother. He was sent to the court of Óswíu King, where he made the acquaintance of Éanflæd his queen. Wilfrið made the request at the age of thirteen to be admitted to the monastic life at Lindisfarne. A bright and promising pupil, Wilfrið made great progress in his studies, but still he felt something was missing from the Celtic mode of monastic life that was practised at Lindisfarne. He began to yearn for a journey to Rome, the better to learn a more regular way of life.
He was quietly encouraged in this by Éanflæd Queen, who likewise held sympathies with Rome in contrast with her husband’s Celtic inclinations. When he was nineteen years old, she gave to Wilfrið a recommendation to travel to Canterbury, where she herself had ties through her Kentish mother Æþelburg. With this recommendation in hand, he went southward in the company of Saint Benedict Biscop, and was received warmly by Éanflæd’s kinsman Eorcenberht King of Kent, who gave him provisions and sent him on his way to the Continent. He was greeted by Saint Ennemond, the Frankish Archbishop of Lyons, who was apparently so charmed by this comely English youth that he offered to adopt him as his son, wed his niece to him and make him governor of a whole Frankish province. This was indeed a sore temptation for a nineteen-year-old boy, but Wilfrið politely declined the friendly offer, being intent on going to Rome to study – but consoled the Archbishop by saying he intended to come visit him again.
While in Rome he made the acquaintance of Bonifatius Consiliarius (assistant to Saint Martin the Confessor, and later the Roman legate to the Trullo Synod), who taught him the Gospels, the disciplines of the Benedictine Rule and – significantly for English Church history – the Roman method for calculating the date for Pascha. He received a blessing from the Pope in Rome and made his way back to England.
Wilfrið made good his promise to Saint Ennemond, staying with the Archbishop of Lyons for three years on his return from Rome. During that time, it so happened that the foes of Saint Ennemond were sent to claim his life, for they had been told by the cruel majordomo of Neustria, Ebroin, that he was a traitor and an enemy of the king. (Some traditions – beginning with Stephen of Ripon and unfortunately including Bede – hold with little grounds for proof that Saint Bealdhild was the one responsible for giving the order to have Ennemond killed.) Wilfrið, being Saint Ennemond’s adopted son, followed him to the killing-grounds, despite Ennemond’s repeated pleas for him to run and save himself. But Wilfrið answered him: ‘What could be more meet than for a son to die alongside his father, so they can be together in Christ?’ After Ennemond had been killed, they stripped Wilfrið and readied the axe. But one of the captains halted them, and asked what manner of man he was, and the charge against him. The executioners answered that he was an Englishman, and they did not know the charges against him. At that, the captain ordered his soldiers to spare Wilfrið and let him go.
Wilfrið returned to England and soon struck up a firm friendship with Ealhfrið King of Deira, the son of Óswíu and the husband of Saint Cyneburg of Peterborough. The two of them were so close, in fact, that Church historians likened their friendship to that of David and Jonathan in Scripture. Ealhfrið gave Wilfrið ten hides of land at Stamford and another thirty at Ripon on which to build Benedictine houses of prayer. According to Bede, the land at Ripon had originally belonged to Celtic monks from Melrose who had abandoned the place and left the land to lie fallow; having reverted to the king, Ealhfrið was eager to see the land used to the same right purpose.
Wilfrið was ordained a priestmonk by Bishop Saint Ægilberht to serve as Abbot at Ripon. Here we see something of Wilfrið’s obstinacy: bringing in a Frankish bishop from West Saxony to ordain him was something of an affront to Lindisfarne and the Celtic priests who lived nearer by. But while at Ripon, he followed the Benedictine Rule precisely as he had learnt it in Rome and Gaul. He followed, as it were, the precepts of Saint Biscop. The doors of his abbey were always open, and the tables always furnished, particularly to the poor and hungry and homeless. Saint Wilfrið engaged himself primarily in giving to and alleviating the burdens of the poor while Abbot at Ripon, and so won the hearts of the lowly folk of Northumbria.
However, Abbot Wilfrið’s contentiousness and somewhat impatient bearing soon showed themselves in the controversy over the dating of Pascha. There were those in Northumbria who agreed with him on the Roman method of dating: notably Éanflæd Queen and James the Deacon, but overwhelmingly, Christian Northumbria still hewed to the Celtic rule. This created some serious tensions – both in terms of the domestic tranquillity of the King’s household (for Éanflæd Queen would still be fasting while Óswíu King was feasting) and in terms of the broader discipline of the Church.
Óswíu King summoned all the churchmen of the English North to Whitby, where Saint Hild was then abbess. Saint Colmán of Lindisfarne and Saint Cedd of Lastingham represented the Celtic tradition; and Saint Wilfrið along with Saint Ægilberht and Saint James represented the Roman. All of Northumbria’s high-born folk attended as well, as this was not merely an ecclesiastical but also a political dispute. And it was Wilfrið, with his contentious personality and eloquence, who carried the day.
Saint Wilfrið and Saint Colmán disputed eloquently – and often, as was the style at the time, polemically – over the method of calculating Paschaltide. Saint Colmán appealed in his case to the authority of Saint John the Theologian, from whom Saint Columba of Iona had received the apostolic tradition through Bishop Saint Anatolius of Laodicea. This usage Wilfrið disputed, saying that Saint John changed his custom to accord with that handed down from Saints Peter and Paul and which were followed by the entirety of the Christian Church after Chalcedon – with the exception of a few small islands at the extremities of the known world. According to Saint Bede, it was Wilfrið’s rousing appeal to Peter that managed to convince Óswíu King to adopt the Roman rite – though more cynical historians contend that it was instead his wife Éanflæd who swayed her husband thus to decide. Whatever the true reason, Saint Colmán departed the Synod unconvinced and continued to uphold the Celtic rite in Iona.
The issue was not, however, resolved straightaway. Wilfrið was appointed Bishop of York, but again he made the unfortunate decision to snub the English bishops and appeal to the Franks for his consecration – specifically to his friend Saint Ægilberht. Though no objection was made at first, the Celtic party reasserted their efforts to hold on to the English north and used Wilfrið’s absence as a pretext – and Óswíu was happy to oblige them. In his place, Saint Cedd of Lastingham was elected as bishop. Wilfrið was waylaid on his return to England by a storm which wrecked his ship among the still-heathen South Saxons. The South Saxons attacked his vessel as he prayed, and a skirmish broke out between them and the crew – but Wilfrið and his ship’s crew were protected by his prayers to God long enough for the skipper to push the wreck back out to water and limp to the nearest safe harbour. Wilfrið returned to find that the bishopric had been given to Cedd. With atypical restraint, he seems to have accepted that result, and gone back to Ripon to attend to his abbey – which he did with devoted care and attention. However, he was often called into Mercia by Wulfhere King to attend to ecclesial matters there.
The winds shifted again when Pope Vitalian sent a new Archbishop to Canterbury: Saint Theodore of Tarsos. Saint Theodore and Saint Wilfrið both possessed incredible energy and zeal for the proper administration of the Church, so one would think they too would have become fast friends – though this turned out not to be the case. They did get off on the right foot. Theodore found fault with Cedd’s appointment as bishop of York and moved him to Mercia, appointing Abbot Wilfrið in his place. Wilfrið, now bishop of York, set about at once to work. He saw to it that York Minster – which had been sadly and shabbily neglected, with settling foundations, cracking walls, a gaping roof – was refurbished from the foundations by Italian masons and stoneworkers. The work was completed in 672.
Wilfrið got along well at first with Ecgfrið of Deira. However, Wilfrið’s dealings with his wife Æþelþrýð, whose desires for a celibate monastic life Wilfrið did his best to encourage, soured his relationship somewhat with the king. But he spent most of his time in this period travelling to the countryside of Northumbria and teaching to, preaching to, comforting and exhorting the humble folk even in the smallest hamlets. Although he was not particularly well-loved among the rich and powerful, the common folk deeply loved him and felt at ease coming to him with their problems both spiritual and practical.
However, the goodwill between Saints Theodore and Wilfrið did not last long at all. Ecgfrið managed to convince Saint Theodore that Bishop Wilfrið’s archdiocæse was too big for him, and to oversee his removal from York and the breakup of York into smaller sees. This was done at a church synod in 678 at which Wilfrið was not present. Enraged at this affront, Bishop Wilfrið appealed first to Ecgfrið King – which was to no avail – and subsequently to the Pope in Rome. He set off once again for the Old City.
On his way there he passed through Frisia, where he could not but take pity on the still-heathen Frisian folk and begin preaching to them the Gospel. He even managed to get on the good side of the Frisian king Aldgisl. Remember Ebroin, above? Ebroin had not forgotten Wilfrið, or his intimacy with Saint Ennemond! The evil majordomo of Neustria, on hearing that Wilfrið was again on the continent, sent an envoy to Aldgisl with a bushel full of gold solidi as payment for Wilfrið’s head. Aldgisl had the letter read aloud to him in the hall, with the hearth burning before him. When the letter was finished, an enraged Aldgisl stood up, took the letter, tore it into shreds and threw them into the fire. The heathen Aldgisl was far too prising of his own hospitality and honour to so hatefully betray a guest even for that much gold. The life of Wilfrið was again spared from Ebroin’s mad cruelty, and he stayed among the Frisians for yet another season before setting off to Rome.
Once he reached Rome, he was received by Saint Agathon, Pope of Rome, who heard his case in the presence of several other bishops. Wilfrið was acquitted unanimously, and an order for him to be restored to his bishopric was written. Saint Agathon also helped to call the Sixth Œcumenical Counicl to combat the heresy of monothelitism. Wilfrið was invited by Agathon to take his place among the bishops, and he offered as the conviction of the English Church that Christ has in fact two wills – human and divine – in agreement with the entirety of the Orthodox Christian world, West and East. Wilfrið returned to England only to find that the acquittal Saint Agathon had given him was of little political avail with Ecgfrið. He was thrown into a donjon for nine months before a friend of his, Saint Æbbe the Elder of Coldingham, managed to get him released.
Once out of there, Wilfrið went into the lands of the South Saxons (who had attacked his ship before), which were then wracked by a frightful hunger. Wilfrið did not go there and preach the Gospel at once; but instead he set to work helping the poor and hungry among them. Though the crops had failed, the seas were teeming with fish, and so in imitation of Christ’s disciples he set to work there. Wilfrið and his followers borrowed some eel-nets from the folk thereabouts, and cast them into the waves from their boat. They hauled ashore three hundred fish. This catch they divided in three, giving one part to the fishermen who had lent them the nets, distributing one part to the poor, and keeping the last part for themselves. It was only after he had worked this wonder that he set about preaching the Word of Life to the poor South Saxons.
The long feud between Saint Theodore and Saint Wilfrið was resolved by the interventions of several people who were friends to both: Holy Mother Ælfflæd of Whitby and Bishop Saint Eorcenwald of London. At their meeting, the Græco-Syrian Archbishop of Canterbury, who had fallen quite ill and wished to make amends, owned his sin against Saint Wilfrið in full and besought his forgiveness, promising to make whatever recompense he could with those among the lords in the north who remained his friends. For his part, Saint Wilfrið gladly forgave Saint Theodore. In Northumbria, Ecgfrið King had fallen in battle at Nechtansmere, and had been replaced by his half-Irish kinsman Ealdferð, who was much better-disposed to Wilfrið – at least at first. After receiving the letter from Saint Theodore, Ealdferð restored Wilfrið to part of his old archdiocæse, in Hexham.
Wilfrið set about restoring the church organisation in the North to regularity, but this time he did so in a discrete and diplomatic manner. Saint Bosa of York and Saint John of Beverley, who had been appointed to diocæses in his absence, willingly and even cheerfully relinquished their charges to him. So too did Saint Cuðberht of Lindisfarne, who had never sought to be a bishop and was glad to resign the responsibility to another, retired to the Isle of Farne for the remainder of his life.
It wasn’t long, however, before Wilfrið’s personality and Ealdferð’s came into conflict. Wilfrið had already gone some long way toward restoring the old ecclesiastical order of Northumbria, having gathered together the bishoprics of Hexham, Ripon, York and even Lindisfarne. Ealdferð likely felt threatened by this, and so leant his ear more toward Wilfrið’s foes among the nobility. He concocted a plan whereby he would take Ripon from Saint Wilfrið and place a bishop there of his own choosing. Ripon, of course, was Wilfrið’s beloved home and the monks there were his family, and he did not willingly part with it. But in 691, five years after his restoration at Saint Theodore’s insistence, Ealdferð chased Saint Wilfrið again out of Northumbria.
This time, however, he found a friend closer to home, in the person of Æþelræd King of Mercia, who offered Wilfrið shelter and the vacant diocæse of Lichfield. He spent his time in Mercia as well and honourably as he had done during his other exiles, in Frisia and Sussex. He founded monasteries and churches, and shared whatever he had with the poor. Unfortunately, his foes in Northumbria managed to gain the ear of Archbishop Saint Beorhtwald of Canterbury. A local synod was convoked at Austerfield, and Ealdferð demanded of the Archbishop of Canterbury that Wilfrið be allowed to remain Abbot at Ripon, on condition that he essentially remain there under house arrest – unable to leave Ripon without Ealdferð King’s express permission. Saint Wilfrið, understandably, objected to this in the strongest terms. Though Wilfrið was supported wholeheartedly by the Mercian king, his followers in Northumbria were in peril of Ealdferð’s wrath.
The rancorous proceedings at Austerfield prompted Saint Wilfrið to yet again plead his case in Rome. By this time, Wilfrið was weary of the constant fighting with sæcular princes, and wished only to be restored to his old abbeys in Ripon and Hexham. Pope John VI was the Roman bishop who this time heard Wilfrið’s case, and he quickly found that Wilfrið’s accusers had brought some false charges against him. A couple of the older bishops in Rome – and also Wilfrið’s old teacher, Bonifatius Consiliarius, by now an ancient and wizened old archdeacon! – recognised Wilfrið from his prior visit when Saint Agathon was Pope, and furthermore acquainted Pope John VI with Wilfrið’s enthusiastic defence of Orthodoxy at the Sixth Œcumenical Council. It was ruled that a bishop who had served so long in the cause of Christ, with such a clear understanding of divinely-revealed truth, should not be expelled from his see but on the contrary sent back with a blessing!
As Wilfrið was travelling through France on his return to England, he fell so ill that he had to be carried in a litter to Meaux. He was at the brink of death for four days, taking neither food nor drink and barely breathing. On the fifth day he revived, and was able to sit up and speak, for which the monastic brethren who were with him gave fervent thanks. Saint Wilfrið first spoke to Acca, a priest and his close confidant, that he had seen a vision of Saint Michael, who had given him to know the day of his death, four years after.
Wilfrið was received gladly by Archbishop Beorhtwald, and he and Æþelræd – now no longer a king, having retired to Bardney as a simple monk – agreed to support him in fulfilling the wishes of the Holy Father. But Ealdferð flat refused to allow Wilfrið to set one foot in Northumbria. Ealdferð was not much longer for this world, however, dying in 705. His son Ósred, who was only eight years old when he became king, was prevailed upon by his regent to allow Wilfrið to return. In the end, Archbishop Beorhtwald effected a compromise at the Synod of Nidd: Saint Wilfrið was restored to Hexham and Ripon, while Saint John of Beverley was given charge of York. However, Bishop Wilfrið, now an old man, was happy to be at peace with the rulers of his beloved homeland.
He spent the last three years of his life ministering to the monasteries he had founded in Hexham and Ripon as well as some of those he had overseen in Mercia. It was while he was at one of these last, the Abbey of Saint Andrew at Oundle, that he took his last illness. He reposed peacefully on his pillow, as though simply sleeping, after a few last exhortations to his monks to keep the peace of Christ among themselves. The Abbot of Oundle, Cuðbald, had Saint Wilfrið’s relics translated to the church of Saint Peter at Ripon – the monastic community he had loved first and best and longest, and for which he had fought so hard. There he was laid to rest.
Bishop Saint Wilfrið’s forceful, magnetic personality seems to have repelled as many people as it attracted. In some cases his own comportment can even appear self-contradictory. In the eyes of his detractors, he was imperious, overbearing, power-hungry and overly fond of worldly honours. However, in the eyes of those who loved him, including many saints of the Orthodox Church, he was sincere, forthright and possessed of a firm sense of personal integrity. It is clear that he loved the Benedictine Order and Rule dearly, and wished above all things to remake the English Church according to the radically-kenotic spirit that lay at the core of the Rule. This is one consistent way to make sense of his willingness to brashly confront powerful kings and nobles over the ecclesiastical rights of his office on the one hand, but also his total, self-giving love he showed to the poor and to the heathen nations he encountered in exile on the other. Holy Bishop Wilfrið, fearless missionary, friend to the poor and steadfast defender of Christ’s truth, pray unto Him Who is the Author of all that our souls may be saved!
Thou wast a champion of the Orthodox Faith,
Upholding the Church with the dogmas of Truth, O sacred Wilfrið;
For, proclaiming that the Son possessed both divine and human wills,
Thou didst set at naught the heresy of Honorius the Pope
And put all the other monothelites to shame.
O holy father, entreat the Saviour,
Who is both perfect God and perfect man,
That at thine intercession He grant us great mercy.
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