“Croeso y Cymru” (‘Welcome to Wales’) announced the sign as we crossed the River Severn, reminding us that the Principality has a language, history and faith tradition quite distinct from those of neighbouring England.
Ostensibly we were on routine Columban ministry, undertaking a weekend mission awareness visit to a local parish – myself, in my capacity as Columban priest, my colleague Mr. Adam Williams as our Mission Appeals Coordinator for Britain. However, we had an ulterior motive. Our destination was the North Welsh town of Holywell, former home of Adam’s ancestors, and while there we were hoping to discover something of his family roots.
Little did we suspect that a series of adventures awaited us!
As we turned inland from the coast road we were stopped in our tracks by the great brooding presence of Flint Castle, which guards the approach to Holywell. Dating from 1277, Flint was the first of many fortresses that Edward I was to erect during his brutal conquest of Wales.
Further up the valley we came across another, but rather more comforting, mediaeval relic, that of Basingwerk Abbey. Built by the Cistercians in 1132, it was testimony to the deep-seated faith of the Welsh people, who’d clung on to their Christian beliefs since Roman times. Unfortunately, like all such foundations, Basingwerk eventually fell foul of Henry VIII’s policy of monastic dissolution and was left in ruins.
On a happier note, we then spied an ecclesiastical jewel that had miraculously escaped the ravages of the sixteenth century Reformation – the Chapel Shrine of St. Winifrede’s “holy well” (giving its name to the surrounding town of Holywell).
Winifrede is one of those notable Celtic holy figures of the so-called “Dark Ages”. She was active in the 7th. century (and, therefore, a near contemporary of St. Columban). According to a colourful legend, Winfrede fled to the church of her uncle, St. Bueno (pron. ‘Bayno’) to defend her virtue against a violent suitor. She wasn’t quick enough, and her pursuer proceeded to cut off her head, but as the dismembered head struck the ground a spring of water suddenly gushed forth. Fortunately for Winifrede, Uncle Bueno then dashed out and miraculously restored her to life by placing the errant head back on her torso. She then enjoyed many years as a holy and much revered nun.
Whatever the truth of this tale, Holywell became a great place of pilgrimage, first for the Welsh, then for the conquering English. The present structure is an unusual two-storey affair, a magnificent example of late mediaeval ‘Perpendicular’-style architecture. An upper chapel protects a well crypt below, where gorgeous fan-vaulting covers the famous spring and pilgrims’ bathing pool. The fact that the shrine was able to “re-brand” itself as a parish church saved it from the attentions of the Reformers.
Adam and I were royally entertained by the Bridgettine Sisters at the Pilgrims’ Hostel before celebrating the weekend Masses and seeking out evidence of Adam’s family roots. We were directed to Holywell Cemetery. Located on a hillside overlooking an impressive stretch of the North Welsh Coast, it is a graveyard as beautiful as it is peaceful. There, we traced the resting places of many members of the Williams family. We knelt and prayed a while by the graves of Noel and Edith, Adams’s great-grandparents.
However, our searching was not over. In fact, the best was yet to come.
Adam was anxious to locate the last family home the Williamses had lived in before emigrating to England. Tantalizingly, the kind Sisters at the hostel recognized Adam’s description of the place as the one currently serving as a modern-day hermitage, occupied by a Poor Clare Sister, duly registered as a hermit by the Bishop of Wrexham.
Knowing roughly where the house lay, we proceeded to knock on doors in and around the vicinity, eliciting some rather bemused reactions from the neighbours as we asked in turn, “Excuse me but, by any chance, does a hermit live here ?” Fortunately, the lady in question was fairly well known, and finally we found ourselves being greeted by an overwhelmingly active and cheerful 80-year-old nun who – by an incredible coincidence – had chosen the former residence of the Williams family as her hermitage some forty years ago.
Delighted to see us, Sister Seraphim recounted her remarkable life history. As a child she’d been given to an orphanage and raised by nuns. Sensing she had a religious vocation herself she later asked to join them but was turned down because of doubts regarding her academic ability. Determined to prove them wrong, she left the convent, got a job, arranged for her own further education and re-applied to the Poor Clares, now armed with outstanding academic qualifications. After serving her Order in a “conventional” manner, she then felt God was calling her to serve Him in a rather less orthodox fashion, as a hermit, and now joyfully lives out her calling both through prayer and as a renowned scholar of ancient Hebrew literature and the Jewish Scriptures.
It is true that God has a plan for all of us, through many generations. Sometimes, those plans reveal themselves to be fascinating, varied and Faith-filled, like that of Columban Co-Worker Adam Williams.
