St Fillan was an eighth century Irish monk and missionary to Scotland, who is associated by local tradition with living the life of a hermit in Pittenweem in the East Neuk. The cave believed to have been his hermitage is still there and once again is a place of worship and pilgrimage, containing also a holy spring of water. Besides being a preacher and evangelist, whose bell and crozier still survive, Fillan is associated with the taming of wolves (perhaps a play on the meaning of his name in Irish), and with the fact that as he sat and prayed in the darkness of the cave, his left arm was miraculously illuminated, enabling him to read the Scriptures.
St Fillan’s Prayer
The chanting of gulls,
Songs of shifting sands,
Souls at home where shores
Can but embrace the restless, heaving sea.
Distant echoes of Ireland,
Kinfolk far away,
Memories flow in and out
Like lapping waves.
Tired again, so very tired,
from taming wolves,
Teaching the discipline of freedom,
Paths of forgiveness, peace and mercy.
Uncertain, at times, if they or I, Fillan,
Grasp at all what You have done for us.
Sanctuary.
Nestled in this sacred womb,
Attentive, conscious, quiet,
I sense once more the lure of fresh beginning,
Springs of clear, pure water,
Nourish Hope of second and eternal birth.
Sitting still in damp darkness,
Gently seeking, dreaming of my very heart’s desire.
And somehow, in your own time, You touch me.
My left arm,
so recently bereft of strength,
Worn out by bearing weighty bells and crosses,
Illuminates the threatening gloom.
Emboldened eyes freshly ponder
Psalms long ago learnt by heart,
Depths deeper than this or any other cave,
Respond once more to longed-for, promised Light.
But oh now,
joyful, dancing, fruitful self-abandon,
Heart leaping like a Roe Deer on the fresh green hills at Dawn!
When I am weak, then am I strong.
Festina Lente 