It is more than a thousand years late, and made of cardboard rather than stone, but the residents of Ireland’s remotest inhabited island have finally got their cross.
The 6.5-metre sculpture reached Tory island, a windswept rock nine miles off Ireland’s north-west coast, on Wednesday, arguably restoring the tainted honour of a patron saint.
According to legend Saint Columba promised a huge Christian stone cross to Tory island in the sixth century but he ended up planting it on the mainland. It still towers over the ruins of Ray church in County Donegal, a formidable feat of ancient engineering and a reminder to islanders of a broken promise.
Sarah Lewtas, who was born in England, and Brian Lacey, an Irish historian, teamed up to deliver the cardboard replica – made out of Bible pages – to Tory with the support of the local population, which numbers just over a hundred people. “You couldn’t do anything on Tory island without them,” said Lacey.
Residents unloaded the cross and carried it across the island. Some were bemused but the atmosphere was festive, said Lacey.
He and Lewtas spoke at a ceremony after the cross was buried in a type of grave. Planning permission requirements and Atlantic wind and rain militated against erecting it, but Tory can still claim to have a version of the cross at Ray.
A variety of St John’s wort – a herb considered a remedy for depression – is to be planted over the site. The medieval monk Columba, who is known in Ireland as Colmcille, reputedly carried the herb under his armpit, earning it the nickname Ascaill Cholmcille, Colmcille’s Armpit.
According to lore, the monk, who spread Christianity to parts of Ireland and Scotland, promised the stone cross as a gift to the newly converted Tory islanders. Made from a slab of schist with quartz veins and nodules, at 6.5 metres tall it was the tallest cross of its kind in Ireland and Britain, said Lacey, an archaeologist and historian who specialises in the medieval era.
Before delivering the gift, however, Columba realised he had left his precious bible at a remote spot on the mainland. He promised the cross to whomever retrieved the bible and kept it dry. A fellow monk, Fionán, did so – and claimed the cross, which was planted at Ray.
The story is a myth, said Lacey. He dates the cross to about 800, two centuries after Columba’s death.
Lewtas, a sculptor who lives in Donegal, began constructing the cardboard version last year during a series of events marking the 1,500th anniversary of Columba’s birth. She called the saint a living fable who felt part of the psyche of Donegal.
The cross will not be completely submerged – a small mound will mark the spot. “It feels like a completion,” said Lewtas.
