If you are interested in the history of the Fontenelle Abby and Saint Wandrille, Wikipedia has some good information HERE
I had hoped to finish writing this on the 22nd, so everyone could have a chance of reading it on his feast day, itself, but my cousin, Saint Wandrille, proved to be so intertwined with many of my ancestors, that I found I had to spend a great deal more time piecing his story together than I had anticipated. I became fascinated with certain aspects and had to chase the rabbit down several holes - all of which are interconnected in a spiritual rabbit warren of delights!
In addition, as I continue to work on this blog post on the evening of the 23rd of July (and am far from finished) I am rounding the corner on day 3 of the worst headache I've ever had in my whole life. It has been years since I've had such a migraine, and even strong painkillers were of little use. Even after a nap yesterday, a full night of sleep, and rising from bed after noon, and then napping again from 2 until almost 6 p.m., I am still struggling to get a handle on it, though I no longer feel like I am on the verge of death and tempted to write loving farewell messages to everyone.
The stress of having that "caregiver" in my house who was in her own world and not a terribly honest or sincere person, and to be faced with the stress of having to clean up after someone ELSE when I am losing the ability to clean up after myself, has made my stress level skyrocket. I can never do this again. It has been a lesson to me. I will do without a caregiver and, instead, work on simplifying everything in my life.
The advantage of being a hermit is supposed to be the simplicity of the life, but unless one is REALLY isolated, there is the tendency for things to accumulate around oneself. For instance, the modern cooking conveniences are tempting but, in the end, useless to someone who can no longer actually COOK for herself. Never let anyone convince you that appliances and cookery gadgets take the place of other people doing the actual work. It is a lie. The best thing to do, I have now learned, is to keep very minimal possessions in the kitchen and to eat raw fruits and veg and sandwiches, and perhaps some frozen meals.
Today I had a chat at the mailboxes with one of my elderly neighbors who lives alone after the death of his spouse a year or two ago. He is not a religious person, but he has also realized the futility of possessions after a certain point in life, due to the very reason I have mentioned. We are too tired to use them!
I have to divest myself of many THINGS that have come to me through the kindness of well-wishers or through my own misguided idea that it would make things simpler somehow.
Also, since I am ACTUALLY alone, and not alone in concert with other people who are cooperating in the work of a place, I have to accommodate my needs in ways that someone living in a monastic institution would not have to do. There may be occasions when I have to eat in a restaurant, for instance. I am not going to feel bad about it if I have to resort to that. I am doing the best I can.
WEBSITE FOR ABBAYE DE ST. WANDRILLE
When reading about the wanderings of my cousin, Saint Wandrille, and how he so quickly could switch from a courtier to a religious hermit at a location FAR away, and then 4 or 5 years later move again, and then again - the thing that kept being communicated to me is that OF COURSE he was able to go galivanting all over the country: he had so few THINGS to carry with him!
I remember, with fondness, how, when I left the convent and got my own apartment, I sat on cushions in the living room and used folding breakfast trays as my "end tables." I slept on a mattress on the floor. Those were my only furnishings. Now, my creaky old carcass needs all sorts of amenities, just to get to the point where I am able to grab even 4 hours sleep at night, but I experience nostalgia, now and then, for the days when I could make the decision about furniture and it was not made for me by virtue of the condition of this miserable body! I really need to make some changes so that I can make do without a caregiver.
Once, a nun called me "house proud" because I made her put her steaming mug of tea on one of my breakfast trays rather than my landlord's new carpet. I was rather more thinking of the deposit I would lose if there were tea stains on the carpet when I moved out, as I was living entirely on the floor and had no furniture at all. Today, that nun could rightly accuse me of being mired in worldly possessions, that's for sure.
I mention her now because I dreamt about her last night, as well as some other nuns. It was an odd dream. We were all wearing full-length gerua robes of the variety one wears for formal occasions. I say "formal," because the sleeves were big and wide. It would be impossible to do much with THOSE sleeves! The material was substantial and rustled when we moved.
I was leading us all into another religious institution. It was a very big house. The lighting was low, the mood serene. No furniture at all - but I was leading them into the shrine room where there would be an altar, and I believe I was introducing them to the place. My friend who called me "house proud" in that early apartment of mine was following close behind me, as if she was trying to catch up with me and ask me something. But no one was speaking, and I did not want to talk. All I could hear was the rustling of the fabric of the beautiful pinkish-orange robes. We were bare-footed, so there was no clatter and echo of shoes on the floor.
It was one of "those" dreams that gave me the impression that I had actually visited with her. When I woke, I wondered if she was alright because it has happened to me many times in my life that when I have a dream that feels like this and it involves someone I know, it is a visitation from a person who has just died, and I do not find out until later that the person has left this mortal plane. Sometimes I get a message from the person that stays with me forever.
People do not evaporate when they die. There are minds far greater than mine who have lent their personal experiences, intellect, and writing talent to explain it. All I know is that all my saintly ancestors are today as real as they ever were. When we talk to them, they hear us, and they accompany us in our daily trails. They are our holy family. That is all I know, but this is one of the reasons why I research my ancestors and other saints that interest me because they're not dead. The people who lived as hermits, nuns, priests, bishops, kings and queens - who left abbeys and churches, institutions, or long lines of descendants are with us today. The dust of the years may be on the things they left behind, but there is no dust on them!
Saint Wandrille is something like my first cousin, 42 times removed. He was a relative of Blessed Pepin I, who is my 49th Great Grandfather. I am positing that Saint Wandrille's father, whose name was Walchisus, was possibly a son of Carloman or one of Carloman's siblings. (This is NOT the Carloman of the 8th Century, obviously.) At this point, we just don't have enough information to say concretely how it was, exactly, that Wandrille was the "kinsman" of my great grandfather, Blessed Pepin I, but he was some kind of cousin. That is all we know from the historical record.
Wandrille was educated in the Frankish court in Metz. He would have been a contemporary of the children of Arnoald and Oda of Metz, all four of whom were sainted (Doda, Itta, Modoald and Severa.) This seems significant to me, as it accounts for the religious seed planted within him so strongly, that later manifested itself. His early companions were all saints!
It's fun to put together the information I've learned in my research about Wandrille with the genealogy research I'd previously done on the court of Metz, as Arnoald of Metz and his wife Oda were my 39th great grandparents! As in other families of such an early era, I found that I was descended from TWO of Arnoald's children: both Saint Doda (Clothilde) and Saint Itta of Metz were my 38th great grandmothers! Doda was married to Saint Arnulf of Metz, and Itta was married to Blessed Pepin I, mentioned above.
Wandrille went on to become a courtier who served Dagobert I, son of Clotare II, "The Great." Dagobert was the King of the Franks, Austrasia, Neustria and Burgundy and was my 2nd cousin, 40 times removed. (Again, for those not familiar with my blog, I will explain that the nobility of Europe intermarried so often that I am a cousin to myself 100 times over, it sometimes seems. When you are descended from certain key people, one seems to be be descended from all the royal houses. That's just the way it is. Americans whose families have been in this country since the 1600's and early 1700's are often these types of descendants from royal families. "The 2nd sons" who did not inherit the titles, thrones and lands of their fathers in Europe, were thrilled to come here and own land in the New World.)
It seems that Wandrille quickly tired of life at court because he retired to become a monk at Montfaucon when he was still in his 20's, in 629. Saint Balderic, my 42nd great granduncle, was his mentor. Evidently, Saint Wandrille had done this hastily, as he'd not gotten approval from Dagobert, who eventually gave the nod. In those days, one had to get the approval of the king for EVERYTHING one did. They did not have the many freedoms to which we as Americans are so accustomed and take for granted as our right. Life at court had its advantages, but in many respects, it was (and probably still largely IS) a golden cage.
Although Saint Wandrille had been married, early on, he and his wife separated, by mutual consent, each of them to retire to a religious life, sometime prior to his becoming a religious and leaving court. This is a theme that repeats itself throughout the history of our faith. There is something compelling about the monastic life that seems inborn and spontaneous, so that no matter what sort of life one has to live in order to support one's physical being, in the end, it is only God that matters at all, and once the frantic toing and froings of young life, it is natural to focus in on what matters. This is what I have done over the last 20 years, and although some Americans think it "kookie" or bizarre, it is part of a long tradition shared by many religions. We come from God and return to God in some fashion of other, and this process is interpreted variously by the various religions. I am descended from dozens of Celtic and European saints and THIS is in my blood, so it is how I naturally come to feel at home.
After accomplishing one's worldly duties, it almost seems natural to retire and devote oneself to God. This is a theme that Christianity shares with Hinduism, and probably other major religious traditions as well. This touches on a frequent concept in my writings. All the major religions traditions have a great deal in common, from the aims of spiritual life to the methods of arriving at that aim. Each expresses the goal differently, but when we are open to the harmony of all religions, it is quite easy to see. Joseph Campbell did a wonderful series of interviews on this topic, years ago, based upon his books.
The portion of Saint Wandrille's life I'm particularly keen to learn more about is when he went to live as a hermit in "complete solitude" at "Saint-Ursanne in the Jura." It is named for Saint Ursicinus, a seventh-century monk who built at least one monastery (and credited for more, I believe) in that locale and with whom Saint Wandrille must certainly have been acquainted. This is a fascinating tidbit that I hope to chase up later.
Today, Saint-Ursanne is a small town in Swizterland that maintains a distinctly medieval flavor, with many houses still standing from that era, as well as "a hermitage and an 18th century bridge," according to Wikipedia. I am going to guess that the ruins of that hermitage are most likely built on the premises of the hermitage that Wandrille occupied at the time he was there, in the 7th century, but that is something I would have to research further. Saint Ursanne is one of the MANY places I would have loved to have visited, had I not become disabled so early in life. Every summer, this town hosts a festival for a famous international "hill climb" in August. Thank God for the internet, though, eh? I have to "put a pin in it" and return to this research at a later time. With these rather more obscure topics and smaller locales, research is often limited by differences in language. I do not know any German, and I possess only a smattering of French, so this research may have to rely upon the work or assistance of others at a later time.
Wandrille spent no more than 5 years at the hermitage because, by 635, he was at the monastery of Saint Columban (a contemporary of Ursicinus), at Bobbio in Northern Italy. He also planned to travel to Ireland but never got further than the Tarentaise Valley in the Swiss Alps of France.
After this, he was ordained priest and founded Fontenelle Abbey in Normany. His friend Archbishop Audoin of Rouen advocated for it with Erchinoald, who donated the land for the purpose. It was Wandrille's "last stand" and probably his greatest accomplishment, as it became a center of great learning. The ruins of the Abbey are located near the Village of Saint-Wandrille Rancon.
I would have loved to visit this village also. It is primarily focused on farming and forestry and is situated on the banks of the River Seine, 18 miles north-west of Rouen. Saint Wandrille's Abbey's is his primary "claim to fame" and it is very quaint and impressive, but the Abbey that stands today, in ruins, is not from Saint Wandrille's era, though no doubt built on the earliest ruins. The current façade belongs to the 13th and 14th Centuries and is described beautifully in the Wikipedia page for Saint-Wandrille-Rancon, subtitle "Places of Interest."
As I finish the written portion of this blog, I am hearing gun fire not far from where I live, on the banks of the Rio Grande River, close to the area of the "South Valley" where there are a lot of little ranchitos that are very old and quaint. Some of them have adobe ovens outside their homes. I believe they are called "hornos."
You can see the familiar shapes and imagine the wonderful baked goods that come out of them. This area is steeped in history but I have not had a chance to know any of these people, since I moved here after I became disabled, and the lifestyle of a hermit is not a social one. The gun fire is concerning, though, because what goes up must come down.
But I still manage to meet people in the parking lot, as there are more than 70 apartments here. Day before yesterday, I helped a lovely woman with her car and some advice about how to discourage the thieves from breaking into it. She got the car started. In gratitude, she came to my apartment the next morning and brought me a lovely package of home-made frozen chile rellenos. These and tamales are traditional foods that communicate culture and love to those to whom they are gifted, and I am particularly grateful for these. I have a friend who gives me home-made pozole at Christmas - another New Mexico custom!
My headache is mostly gone, so I hope when I wake later on it will have disappeared. Please pray for me in that regard. Also, please pray that I am able to simplify my hermit life in this little apartment in a way that will enable me to care for myself and also follow through with my religious practices.
May we all be blessed!
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