I think Bede would have been proud of our work the first day of this travel devotional. We had traveled all the way from London and arrived in York, the town that would be our base for the next five days, and a town about which Bede wrote.
Our morning in York
We visited the York Museum in the morning, where we were amused by the positive spin on the Vikings, who they described as “traders and explorers” but made no mention that what they traded they had stolen from others while raiding, raping, and pillaging. I could find no mention of Christianity before the Norman conquest. No King Edwin, Saint Cuthbert, or the Synod of Whitby. Apparently, Christianity just spontaneously appeared here with William the Conqueror and the Normans.
At 1 p.m. we set out on our guided tour of York that included the Roman Wall, the King’s House, and various gates in and around the old town.
Our Oxford educated tour guide was quite knowledgeable. She was also skilled socially, and I noticed us standing in place for long periods of time with The Wife and Ann chatting her up. The information was flowing in the wrong direction, and we were not moving.
They say discretion is the unsaid part of what you think, so I chose to exercise discretion and some subtle body language that indicated we needed to keep moving.
Bede on York and the conversion of King Edwin
The heart of York is York Minster, an enormous gothic cathedral that towers over the old town. Bede tells the story of the planting of the first church here in what was then called Eboracum. That church would eventually become the cathedral we see today. The story Bede writes is of King Edwin (ruled 616-633 AD), the first great northern English ruler to convert to Christianity.
Around 625 AD Edwin sought to marry Aethelburh, a Christian princess from Kent. Aeltheburh agreed but only if she could bring her own chaplain, Bishop Paulinus, and continue practicing Christianity. Apparently, Aethelburh’s and Paulinus’s influence, along with a vision Edwin received, led to him to convert to Christianity and to being baptized here:
King Edwin, therefore, with all the nobility of the nation, and a large number of the common sort, received the faith, and the washing of regeneration, in the eleventh year of his reign, which is the year of the incarnation of our Lord 627, and about one hundred and eighty after the coming of the English into Britain. He was baptized at York on the holy day of Easter, being the 12th of April, in the church of St. Peter The Apostle, which he himself had built of timber, whilst he was catechising and instructing in order to receive baptism. In that city also he appointed the see of the bishopric of his instructor and bishop, Paulinus. But as soon as he was baptized he took care, by the direction of the same Paulinus, to build in the same place a larger and nobler church of stone, in the midst whereof that same oratory which he had first erected should be enclosed.
Bede, Ecclesiastical History, Bk II Chp. XIV
The magnificent York Minister
York Minster, impressive and imposing, sits on the highest point in the old town. Its Gothic spires and arched windows point to the sky, reminding people to look up to the heavens.
We spent nearly an hour and one-half inside York Minster and still didn’t have time to explore all its history, tombs, and shrines. Some highlights included the sanctuary, the Chapter House, and the stain glass windows recently restored at the cost of millions of pounds — apparently the thirteenth century Yorkies failed to anticipate the effects of pollution and car exhaust.
And then there was this story, which we heard from our tour guide.
In the Spring of 1984, David Jenkins was nominated to become the new Bishop of Durham. Jenkins had made statements in interviews and sermons suggesting the Resurrection might not have been a literal, physical event, and he questioned the existence of miracles and the Virgin Birth. Conservative Christians rightly were outraged and expressed their displeasure leading up to Jenkins’s consecration. On July 7, 1984, Jenkins was consecrated as the new Bishop of Durham in York Minster Cathedral.
Two days later, a massive lightning strike hit the South Transept of York Minster, igniting the 600-year old wooden roof, and flames quickly engulfed the transept. Firefighters battled the blaze for more than six hours. In the end, the roof was completely destroyed. Repairs would take four years and cost millions of pounds.
The next day, papers, and many Christians, reached the conclusion that this was no ordinary “act of God” but an actual act of God, showing His displeasure with the events two days prior.
How Bede might have interpreted a current event
This is just the sort of event Bede would have interpreted for us. He might have written something like this:
The Lord of all Creation, to demonstrate His displeasure with the heresy of one who claimed to be His own and with those so blind to the light of true religion as to elevate him to a position of authority in His Church, unleashed a bolt of light on the building that had hosted the spectacle, presenting proof to all that He is not only there but powerful enough to birth one into the world without the seed of man and to raise that man from the dead.
Pseudo-Bede, GSB
It certainly seems the Lord has invited us to look for His fingerprints in His creation:
For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men who suppress the truth in unrighteousness, because that which is known about God is evident within them; for God made it evident to them. For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse.
Romans 1:18-20
Jenkins apparently laughed off attempts to connect the lightning strike to God, and called it a mere coincidence.
After York Minster, we walked the narrow streets of old town York, and looming over us on every street was York Minster, reminding us that the Lord is there, and He is to be loved and feared.
