St Columba’s life is known largely through the posthumous biography of his successor Adamnan. A highly-charged and emotional work, it shows the depth of affection and reverence in which the indefatigable yet peace-loving monk was held. After being banished from Ulster in 563 Columba was granted the tiny Scottish island of Iona, where he founded a monastery and, with his companions, began to convert the Picts. His legacy is carried on in the Iona Community, an ecumenical movement founded in 1938 by the Church of Scotland minister George MacLeod with the aim of emulating Columba’s spiritual compassion and pacifism.
As the end of the four years above-mentioned approached, after whose completion the truthful seer long in advance foreknew that the end of his present life would be, he went, drawn in a cart, since he was an old man wearied with age, to visit the brethren at work; on a certain day in the month of May.… And to those that were labouring in the western part of the island of Iona he began that day to speak thus, saying: ‘In the celebration of Easter lately past, in the month of April I desired with desire to depart to Christ the Lord, even as he would have granted me, had I chosen. But lest the festival of joy should have been turned for you to sorrow, I have preferred to postpone a little longer the day of my departure from the world.’
Hearing him speak these sad words his friends the monks became very sorrowful; and he began to cheer them in so far as he could by consolatory words. After concluding, while he was sitting in his waggon he turned his face to the east, and blessed the island with those that dwelt in it; and from that day … even to the present time the venom of three-forked tongues of snakes has been powerless to hurt either men or cattle. After pronouncing this benediction the saint drove back to his monastery.
Then after a few days, while the celebration of mass was held upon the Lord’s day, according to custom, he raised his eyes, and the venerable man’s face appeared to be suffused with a glowing flush; because, as it is written, the countenance glows when the heart is glad. For he alone in that hour saw an angel of the Lord flying above, within the walls of the chapel …
At the end of the same week, therefore, that is on the Saturday, the venerable man himself and his faithful attendant Diarmait went to bless the nearest barn. After entering it and blessing it and two separated heaps of corn in it, the saint pronounced these words with his rendering of thanks, saying, ‘I much congratulate my friends the monks, that this year, even if I must depart anywhere from you, you will have a sufficient year’s supply.’
Hearing these words, Diarmait his attendant began to be sorrowful and spoke thus: – ‘Thou saddenest us very often, father, this year, because thou remindest us frequently of thy departure.’
And the saint gave him this answer: ‘I have some little secret speech which, if thou promise me truly to disclose it to none before my death, I may communicate to thee somewhat more clearly, concerning my departure.’ And when the attendant bending his knees had concluded such a promise as the saint wished, the venerable man proceeded to speak: ‘In holy books, this day is called Sabbath, which means rest: and truly this day is Sabbath to me, because it is my last day of this present laborious life, and I hold Sabbath in it after my painful labours; and in the middle of this following venerated night of the Lord I shall, in the language of the Scriptures, go the way of the fathers. For already my Lord Jesus Christ deigns to invite me; and at his invitation, in the middle of this night, I say, I shall pass to him. For so it has been revealed to me by the Lord himself.’ …
Hearing these sad words, his attendant began to weep bitterly. And the saint endeavoured as best he could to console him.
After this the saint left the barn; and returning toward the monastery he sat down mid-way, in a place where afterwards a cross, fixed into a mill-stone and still standing, is seen at the side of the road. And while the saint rested there, sitting for a little while, wearied with age, as I have said above, behold a white horse met him, the obedient drudge that had been accustomed to carry the milk-vessels between the byre and the monastery; and coming to the saint, strange to say placed its head in his bosom (being inspired as I believe by God, by whose will every animal is [made] wise with such perception of things as the Creator himself has decreed); and knowing that its master was soon to depart from it, and that it should see him no more, began to lament, and like a human being to pour tears copiously into the saint’s lap, and to foam much and weep. And seeing this the attendant began to drive away the tearful mourner; but the saint forbade him, saying, ‘Permit this our lover to pour the torrents of its bitterest grief onto my bosom. See thou, man as thou art, and with a rational soul, thou couldst know nothing of my death except what I myself have recently disclosed to thee; but to this brute and irrational beast the Creator has clearly revealed, in whatever way he wished, that its master is about to depart from it.’ And so speaking he blessed his servant the horse, as it turned sadly from him.
And he departed thence and climbed a little hill above the monastery. He stood for a little while upon its summit, and standing raised both palms, and blessed his monastery, saying: ‘Upon this place, small and mean though it be, not only kings of the Scots with their peoples, but even rulers over strange and barbarous nations, with the peoples subject to them, will bestow great and especial honour; especial reverence will be bestowed also by saints even of other churches.’
After these words he descended from the little hill and returned to the monastery, and sat in his hut writing a psalter; and reaching the verse of the thirty-third psalm where it is written ‘They that seek the Lord shall not lack any good thing,’ he said: ‘Here at the end of the page I must cease; let Baithine write what follows.’ …
After finishing the writing of this verse above-mentioned at the end of the page, the saint entered the church for evening mass of the Lord’s night; which presently concluded he returned to his little dwelling, and rested over-night in his bed, where in place of bedding he had a bare rock, and for pillow a stone which also today stands as some kind of monument beside his grave. Thus resting there he gave his last commands to the brethren, his attendant alone for audience, saying, ‘I commit these last words to you, my children, that between you you have mutual and not pretended charity, with peace; and if you observe this, after the example of the holy fathers, God, the gladdener of the good, will aid you, and I, dwelling with him, will intercede for you; and not only will the necessaries of this life be sufficiently provided by him, but also the prizes of eternal good things will be assigned, prepared for those that uphold what is divine …’
Thus far have been brought the last words, related briefly, of the venerable father, as of one passing over from this weary pilgrimage to the heavenly country.
After this, his happy last hour gradually approaching, the saint was silent.
Thereafter when the bell that struck at midnight resounded, he rose quickly and went to the church, and running faster than the rest he entered alone, and, kneeling in prayer before the altar, lay back. Diarmait the attendant, following more slowly, at the same moment saw from afar the whole church within filled for the saint with angelic light; but as he approached the door, the same light very quickly vanished: but a few others also of the brethren, also at a distance, had seen it. So Diarmait entered the church, and cried in a tearful voice, ‘Where art thou, father?’ And feeling in the darkness, because the lanterns of the brethren had not yet been brought, he found the saint lying on his back before the altar; and he raised him a little, and sitting beside him placed the holy head in his lap. And meanwhile the company of monks running up with lights saw their father dying, and began to lament.
And, as we have learned from some who were present there, before his soul departed the saint opened his eyes and looked about to either side with a countenance of wonderful joy and gladness, for he saw the holy angels coming to him.
Then Diarmait raised [Columba’s] holy right hand to bless the saintly man’s choir of monks; and the venerable father himself also, so far as he could, moved his hand at the same time, so that he appeared to bless the brethren even by the movement of his hand, since in the departure of his soul he could not do it in speech. And after the holy benediction thus signified he presently breathed out his spirit.
And after he had left the tabernacle of the body, his face remained so glowing, and marvellously made joyous by the vision of angels, that it appeared not as of one dead, but as of one asleep and living.