St. Andrew's Castle Ruins, Scotland, photo by Malcolm Neal‘Voyage to Scotland’: Poems by Margaret Coats The Society December 1, 2023 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 22 Comments . Voyage to Scotland Constantius II, son of Constantine and emperor from 337 to 361, hoped to glorify Constantinople by collecting relics of all twelve Apostles. He took Saint Andrew’s remains by force from the saint’s principal shrine in Patras, Greece. This violent robbery greatly distressed the people of Patras. . Direction Fearful these Pillars of Hercules warning Sailors to keep to the earth’s middle sea; Westward from here lie preposterous perils— Pass through, go north, says a spirit to me. “Regulus, surely, turn back and then northward Must be the way we’re directed to take.” No, Merniacus, we voyage long outward, Rounding this landmass for Andrew’s brave sake. We’ve been commissioned to carry him yonder— Sure destination it is, that I know; Wide of this continent stands his new homeland, Home for these relics, the angel said so. Wondrous our venture—remember how holy Purposes made us companions and friends; Andrew, Apostle, desires to establish Residence where a remote shore extends. Fear not, good brother, in sight of the coastline Henceforth we’ll navigate, not as we did Magically flying from Patras on waters Silk-smooth, with Cyprus and Sicily hid. “What a relief! That’s a cruise I can fathom. Slower, mayhap, but with merit to earn. Care for the churning of current around us! Bow to the starboard, leave Afric astern.” . Enterprise Days dart by, supplies are found. Near a cape, raw squalls resound; Ship and sails veer eastward bound. Sunrise marks direction change. Is the turn correct though strange? Land ahoy in right-hand range! Seeing it, we’re satisfied, Moving as our angel guide Earlier had specified. Twenty-one took on this mission, Keen to favor my petition: Two priests (one a fine musician), Deacons two and hermits eight, Virgins three of sacred state, Laymen six of worth innate, To a new foundation plighted, God and Andrew them united, By barbarians uninvited. Chill convulses settling haze As the Channel meets our gaze— West and north stretch three harsh ways. . Tempest Boisterously jolting the vessel, A storm wallop thrashes her hard. Mainmast whips round like a pestle Grinding the hull as it’s jarred Back and forth while the winds wrestle. Overboard goes Madianus Along with his fellow Sajanus Into wave chaos commandless. North northwest barely progressing, Violently plunges the ship. Losses so sadly distressing Grave rites of sea burial equip: We beg for them both final blessing. Alive! Drenched Sajanus we find, Lay drowned Madianus behind: May God rest his soul reprimandless. . Intention Fair breezes blow, then we proceed Now north with seaboard on our left. At last shipboard fatigue will lead To reparation for the theft By Emperor Constantius’ greed, Who pillaged for his capital All relics apostolical. Two days before, an angel came And told me to select and hide Best bones for Kilrymont to claim Where grace could be intensified And faith spread far through Andrew’s fame, For God called fervent folk from Greece To go where Christ would grant increase. Our trip of unknown length would wrest The mission band in sacrifice; No ease for colleagues sturdiest Who shape a loyal paradise For dwellers in the distant west. To reach the goal definitive, A shipwreck was imperative. The gladsome strands we pass look fair; We might have liked to linger there, But brisk and speedy flows the air, And heaven thunders out, “Beware!” A whirlwind rips the rigging bare, The ship splits, bringing us despair; Each lone these breakers fierce must dare. . Kilrymont: place in Scotland where devotion to the saint was practiced early . Shrine Saint Andrew, heavenly spirit, loves to be With devotees in presence bodily. This casket with us holds all that remains Of nature his immortal soul sustains, But though the soul and body must be parted As long as God decrees, true tenderhearted Feelings of the man still recognize The frame that resurrected he will prize. With it by preference real his person stays, And welcomes many in prodigious ways. We clamber up the headland as God willed; Saint Andrew’s kirk the twenty of us build, Cold ocean beacon warm with glory filled. . . Margaret Coats lives in California. She holds a Ph.D. in English and American Literature and Language from Harvard University. She has retired from a career of teaching literature, languages, and writing that included considerable work in homeschooling for her own family and others. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. CODEC Stories:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 22 Responses Warren Bonham December 1, 2023 Wow. Masterfully done with a mixture of several different styles. I learned more this morning than in any college course I ever took. Reply Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thank you, Warren. Emperor Constantius did raid Patras and carried off remains of the Apostle Saint Andrew. The sea voyage is mostly my imagination, based on the account of medieval Scottish historian Walter Bower. He gives few details, so I have a speedy passage across the Mediterranean, then the ship follows the shore, according to the practice of ancient sailors. Bower says the angel who directed the group told Regulus (keeper of relics in Patras) that he would be leaving his home forever, and know he had reached his destination when the ship wrecked. A mission of faith indeed! Reply Roy Eugene Peterson December 1, 2023 As one of the greatest living classical poets, these are not only beautiful, but educational and informative of why there is a Saint Andrews town, university, and golf course in Scotland. The university I just researched is the third oldest institution of higher learning in the UK and was founded in 1413. The golf course is where the rules for golf over the years were developed and codified. You obviously have a superb grasp of Scottish history and of the historical context arising from the amazing decisions of Constantine. Your fantastic poetry was riveting and touched the divine filling my soul with wonderment and fascination. Reply Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thanks very much, Roy. I’m especially happy to know this was inspirational. You are right that Saint Andrews has claims to fame in several areas, but it is sad that the very reason for the name (the cathedral sanctuary where the relics were kept) is now a ruin in the middle of a ruinous graveyard. It looks impressive on the headland above the sea because the 100-foot Tower of Rule (the Regulus of my story, with name anglicized) is still in good shape. The illustration for this post is a picture of ruined defensive castle, which is not on the same part of the coast as the former cathedral. Much appreciated your response and compliment! Reply Joseph S. Salemi December 1, 2023 These are five delightful poems that showcase Margaret’s versatility in various meters (the dactyls of “Direction” are especially sharp). And the poems also give a good account of the odyssey that St. Andrew’s relics had before arriving in Scotland. As a matter of fact, those relics have been spread all over Christendom. I am happy the last poem mentions that saints remain in affectionate closeness to their relics, with an anticipatory joy in their eventual resurrection and reunion in the flesh. This for me has always been one of the signs of Catholicism’s profoundly incarnational nature. A first-class relic of St. Andrew’s dried flesh and bone was one of the seven relics returned by my family to the Abbey of Montecassino earlier this year. Reply Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Joe, thanks for your praise of my versatility in the different meters of these poems. I think of the varied rhythms as different moods of the sea on this odyssey taking Andrew’s relics to Scotland. You are correct that his relics were spread over Christendom, and there were other paths by which some could have come to Scotland. Augustine of Canterbury probably brought relics of Andrew from Gregory the Great’s monastery in Rome, dedicated to Andrew and certainly in possession of relics. Two Anglo-Saxon bishops are known to have brought relics of Andrew to Northern England. But I loved this story, which might have consoled outraged citizens of Patras by showing how their custodian of relics outwitted the Emperor, and hid a great portion of their treasure, to be used in accord with heavenly purposes. Just as your father took responsibility for relics that might have been lost or desecrated by American forces in Italy. May blessings of those saints remain with your family after their return to Monte Cassino. Reply Cynthia Erlandson December 1, 2023 This is a fascinating story, well told, Margaret. Like Joseph, I was delighted with the effect of your dactyls in “Direction. The phrase “chaos commandless” is captivating — I’m tempted to steal it! (Not to mention “reprimandless” and the names that provide their rhymes.) I hope you had a good celebration of St. Andrew’s Day yesterday. Reply Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thank you, Cynthia. This year, Saint Andrew’s Day was preparation for celebrations on Friday, but next year it will fall on Saturday. I will be in charge of music and (God willing) can sing all the verses of Oakeley’s “Great Saint Andrew,” to which I have composed two more. About the story in this voyage poem, the seafaring details come from me, but all 21 names were given in my source. I’m sorry I could give credit by name to only a few brave souls. Reply Julian D. Woodruff December 1, 2023 Margaret, thank you for this diversely laid out suite. The dispersion of relics during antiquity and the Middle Ages is amazing–Andrew’s even more so than James the Great’s. Maybe this group is part of a larger collection, including the exploits of St. Helen, the Holy Shroud etc. Reply Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 The Holy Shroud is an epic story in itself, and could include contemporary science features. I read the optical imaging data when it first came out in Science magazine. That is a miracle technology still cannot reproduce: a split-second burst of intense energy that burned three-dimensional information into the cloth. What an idea, Julian! We have matter to compare with the vast literature already existing on the Holy Grail. Concerning relics of saints, I learned that from early on, keepers in charge of the sacred remains would have prepared them for distribution. It was possible to carefully disjoint bones and reverently wrap the portions in small packets for presentation to important visitors, especially those who represented churches where the relics would be venerated. So there is nothing historically unlikely about some of Saint Andrew’s relics being hidden and preserved to go elsewhere when the emperor seized the main portion of them. You are right that Andrew’s shrine in Scotland was the most distant center dedicated to one of the Twelve Apostles. Along with Trier in Germany (for Saint Matthias, brought there by Saint Helena), it vied with Jerusalem, Rome, and Compostela as a pilgrimage site. Reply Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 I like the description of this group of poems as a “suite” rather than a “sequence.” It provides musical cachet. And thanks very much for the comment, as I neglected to say earlier. Reply Jeff Eardley December 2, 2023 Margaret, these are such a delight to read. I should have strapped on the life jacket before I started such a perilous journey. Thank you for the information on the St Andrew relics. I have learned so much today from one heck of a brilliant educator. Reply Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thank you, Jeff. Your delight and fright show me that my sea verses are a worthwhile endeavor! If you haven’t been to Saint Andrews, I recommend the trip even though the relics are no longer there–not in recognized form anyway. Artist Jurek Putter, who has done imaginary illustrations on the topic, says he is convinced they still exist. Reply Brian A. Yapko December 3, 2023 Margaret, whether it be a sequence or a suite (I too prefer the term “suite”) this is an amazing collection of related poems on a story which is cinematic in its depiction of a sea voyage centered around the protection and veneration of St. Andrew’s holy relics. That this story is true is amazing, and yet it reminds of several fictional stories: Cadfael (and the theft of the relics of St. Winifred) and C.S. Lewis’ “Voyage of the Dawn Treader” are two which come to mind. A sea voyage with a spiritual goal. You have tapped into something archetypal here. From a political standpoint, the acquisition of relics was an important aspect of political power (and may well still be.) Here I am reminded of the ambitious city fathers of a young Venice who were anxious to assert Venice’s importance. They then stole relics of St. Mark from their resting place in Alexandria which they then employed as the spiritual/political foundation for the city in addition to being the spiritual heart of the great Basilica San Marcos. I would imagine that when you describe the desire of Constantius II “to glorify” Constantinople you are not referring to spiritual glory only. The poem itself in five parts – each unique in form – is an exciting and enjoyable read. Your use of a first person speaker makes the adventure personal and compelling. Your use of archaic language and imagery (the Pillars of Hercules, the coast of “Afric”) gives the work a nice contemporaneously historical quality. The variances in structure suggest to me the various stages of an epic voyage, but of these variations I most enjoyed the form of “Intention” – especially the unstoppable, locomotive quality of those seven rhyming lines at the end. The subject of holy relics is a fascinating one to me – especially as a non-Catholic. There is a macabre aspect to it. But I can certainly understand the desire to keep a saint close to the heart in a physical, tangible way – or, even more compellingly, a piece of the true cross. Part of it strikes me as a mystery. When I returned from a vacation in Hawaii in 2009, we crossed paths with Hawaii’s bishop who was returning home with a relic from the newly canonized Father Damien of Molokai – now St. Damien. As he carried the reliquary out into the public area he was greeted by a large and boisterous crowd of people thrilled by the return of Hawaii’s great saint. I’ve never forgotten the emotional response of those people or the unexpected wonder it triggered in me to see the ecstatic joy of the faithful welcoming home the relics of a great man. Reply Margaret Coats December 3, 2023 Brian, that’s a wonderful story of witnessing the return of Saint Damien to Hawaii in his relics. Your whole comment is suffused with the issue of relics–as is my poem! Many persons have difficulty with this topic, so let me add some thoughts here. The unique virtue of relics is that they bring the possessor objectively into the presence of the saint to whom the relic once belonged. One can read of Saint Andrew in the Gospels, and be edified and inspired. One can use the mind and imagination to develop devotion to him. One can pray to him and receive favors from God through his intercession. But the custodian of a relic is actually in his presence. As one woman said of her family’s custody of a relic of Saint Gemma Galgani, “Things are different since Gemma came into the house.” The difference is a spiritual one that arises only because of the material object, and it cannot be adequately explained. It involves the great mystery of the individual human soul. In the body, we tend to focus on bodily things, often to the neglect of our own souls and the souls of other living beings around us. It is more difficult still to understand the mode of being of a great and good saintly soul separated from the body that once belonged to him or her. You, Brian, say there is something macabre about it, and that is true. God made body and soul to be closely and intimately related, as our own body and soul are while we live. We step into another realm to venerate the relics of saints. Reply Margaret Coats December 4, 2023 To Brian again, I express my thanks for your wide-ranging comment on this suite of poems. Your reference to fictional stories of relics reminds me of one I must mention, which is William L. Biersach’s mystery, “The Search for Saint Valeria.” Biersach was, I believe, a professor at UCLA who wrote a series of mysteries that my children just loved. “Valeria” is of the greatest interest because it was occasioned by the disappearance of relics of Saint Vibiana. Vibiana is one of only four whole-body sets of relics of ancient martyrs that are now in the United States. She was given to a California bishop long ago with the expectation that the cathedral in Los Angeles would be named for her. It was, but the building was not truly a cathedral in scale. When Cardinal Roger Mahony decided to build the current Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Saint Vibiana’s was threatened with destruction, and a wrecking ball knocked off the tower, but the building was sold and refitted after enormous public protest. It still exists as a privately owned performing arts center. The relics had been removed and their location was unknown for years, prompting Biersach’s fictional mystery. They have now reappeared to be venerated in a crypt chapel of the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, which is affectionately known as the Taj Mahony or the Raj Mahal. Reply Daniel Kemper December 4, 2023 Hey Dr. Coats, I enjoyed the tale. The full flavor of each episode was very satisfying. The dactyls, which I’m really into these days, were as good as any Annie Finch herself might pen — the apparent, current queen of them and alternative meters these days. I always enjoy your frequent blends of verse that bring the esoterically classical into palpable reach. Reply Margaret Coats December 4, 2023 Daniel, I’m glad you liked the episodes in the voyage. Choosing material for interest is key, I think, because long trips of any kind tend to be tedious. And in this suite or sequence, different meters add rhythmic interest. You’ve mentioned your work in dactyls before, and thus I appreciate your approval of the ones here in “Direction.” They are not strictly dactylic, but neither are those in Annie Finch’s best known dactylic poems. Please excuse my self-referencing, and I’ll link to another post with dactyls in which you might be interested. https://classicalpoets.org/2022/11/23/heirs-to-alexander-and-other-poems-on-the-kalasha-people-by-margaret-coats/ Within this group is “Only the Brave,” with some of Alexander the Great’s soldiers as speakers. I am not imitating classical Greek, but using the strangeness of regular English dactylic hexameters as an appropriate voice–or so I think. Hope you like it. Reply Stephen Binns December 11, 2023 Admired these very much, Margaret, as well as your “St. Joseph’s Table” in the last Journal. I’m originally from Kansas City, where the Little Italy has a St. Joseph’s Day table tradition. I’m given to understand that only a couple of other American cities have it–New Orleans, I think, and perhaps Buffalo. If you have time to reply, I’d be eager to know where you learned of the tradition. Reply Margaret Coats December 12, 2023 Thanks for your comment on these, Stephen, and for the mutual interest in Saint Joseph’s Table. I first found one in a California parish with an active Italian Catholic Federation. It was much smaller than the big city Tables. Rather than feeding all comers, it sold baked goods and donated money to the Los Angeles Food Bank, which does timely work to collect expiring groceries and distribute them to anyone in need. At my current parish one Knight of Columbus hands out cards requesting items for a food pantry. All to the honor of Saint Joseph! Reply Stephen Binns December 12, 2023 Thanks, Margaret. I’d be delighted to know where in California one finds that church. Though I’ve never lived there, I’ve always had a keen interest in California history, especially that of Los Angeles. In Kansas City, the food on the table is donated to the poor, while visitors to the table are served spaghetti: spaghetti milanese, with breadcrumbs, symbolic of sawdust in St. Joseph’s shop. It’s my understanding that the tradition comes from one small village in Sicily and was carried to America only by the townspeople there. Margaret Coats December 13, 2023 Do you know of the Italian American Museum of Los Angeles (IAMLA)? It’s right downtown, while the church I was speaking of is Our Lady of the Assumption in Claremont–at the east edge of Los Angeles County. Our Lady of the Angels in Arcadia (east side but not east edge) has also had a Saint Joseph Table. IAMLA could tell you more of Saint Joseph Tables; they had an exhibit on them that was closed down in the 2020 Lockdown. You are right that the Tavola di San Giuseppe began at one place in Italy, but I know it spread through Italy, and thus the American Saint Joseph Tables may not come from Sicily only. I don’t know. Do know about breadcrumbs representing sawdust; they’re in my poem, but I used them as a tasty decoration for fennel and dandelion. At home they’re good with pasta con tonno. My family will not tolerate pasta con sarde! Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Captcha loading...In order to pass the CAPTCHA please enable JavaScript. Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Warren Bonham December 1, 2023 Wow. Masterfully done with a mixture of several different styles. I learned more this morning than in any college course I ever took. Reply
Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thank you, Warren. Emperor Constantius did raid Patras and carried off remains of the Apostle Saint Andrew. The sea voyage is mostly my imagination, based on the account of medieval Scottish historian Walter Bower. He gives few details, so I have a speedy passage across the Mediterranean, then the ship follows the shore, according to the practice of ancient sailors. Bower says the angel who directed the group told Regulus (keeper of relics in Patras) that he would be leaving his home forever, and know he had reached his destination when the ship wrecked. A mission of faith indeed! Reply
Roy Eugene Peterson December 1, 2023 As one of the greatest living classical poets, these are not only beautiful, but educational and informative of why there is a Saint Andrews town, university, and golf course in Scotland. The university I just researched is the third oldest institution of higher learning in the UK and was founded in 1413. The golf course is where the rules for golf over the years were developed and codified. You obviously have a superb grasp of Scottish history and of the historical context arising from the amazing decisions of Constantine. Your fantastic poetry was riveting and touched the divine filling my soul with wonderment and fascination. Reply
Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thanks very much, Roy. I’m especially happy to know this was inspirational. You are right that Saint Andrews has claims to fame in several areas, but it is sad that the very reason for the name (the cathedral sanctuary where the relics were kept) is now a ruin in the middle of a ruinous graveyard. It looks impressive on the headland above the sea because the 100-foot Tower of Rule (the Regulus of my story, with name anglicized) is still in good shape. The illustration for this post is a picture of ruined defensive castle, which is not on the same part of the coast as the former cathedral. Much appreciated your response and compliment! Reply
Joseph S. Salemi December 1, 2023 These are five delightful poems that showcase Margaret’s versatility in various meters (the dactyls of “Direction” are especially sharp). And the poems also give a good account of the odyssey that St. Andrew’s relics had before arriving in Scotland. As a matter of fact, those relics have been spread all over Christendom. I am happy the last poem mentions that saints remain in affectionate closeness to their relics, with an anticipatory joy in their eventual resurrection and reunion in the flesh. This for me has always been one of the signs of Catholicism’s profoundly incarnational nature. A first-class relic of St. Andrew’s dried flesh and bone was one of the seven relics returned by my family to the Abbey of Montecassino earlier this year. Reply
Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Joe, thanks for your praise of my versatility in the different meters of these poems. I think of the varied rhythms as different moods of the sea on this odyssey taking Andrew’s relics to Scotland. You are correct that his relics were spread over Christendom, and there were other paths by which some could have come to Scotland. Augustine of Canterbury probably brought relics of Andrew from Gregory the Great’s monastery in Rome, dedicated to Andrew and certainly in possession of relics. Two Anglo-Saxon bishops are known to have brought relics of Andrew to Northern England. But I loved this story, which might have consoled outraged citizens of Patras by showing how their custodian of relics outwitted the Emperor, and hid a great portion of their treasure, to be used in accord with heavenly purposes. Just as your father took responsibility for relics that might have been lost or desecrated by American forces in Italy. May blessings of those saints remain with your family after their return to Monte Cassino. Reply
Cynthia Erlandson December 1, 2023 This is a fascinating story, well told, Margaret. Like Joseph, I was delighted with the effect of your dactyls in “Direction. The phrase “chaos commandless” is captivating — I’m tempted to steal it! (Not to mention “reprimandless” and the names that provide their rhymes.) I hope you had a good celebration of St. Andrew’s Day yesterday. Reply
Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thank you, Cynthia. This year, Saint Andrew’s Day was preparation for celebrations on Friday, but next year it will fall on Saturday. I will be in charge of music and (God willing) can sing all the verses of Oakeley’s “Great Saint Andrew,” to which I have composed two more. About the story in this voyage poem, the seafaring details come from me, but all 21 names were given in my source. I’m sorry I could give credit by name to only a few brave souls. Reply
Julian D. Woodruff December 1, 2023 Margaret, thank you for this diversely laid out suite. The dispersion of relics during antiquity and the Middle Ages is amazing–Andrew’s even more so than James the Great’s. Maybe this group is part of a larger collection, including the exploits of St. Helen, the Holy Shroud etc. Reply
Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 The Holy Shroud is an epic story in itself, and could include contemporary science features. I read the optical imaging data when it first came out in Science magazine. That is a miracle technology still cannot reproduce: a split-second burst of intense energy that burned three-dimensional information into the cloth. What an idea, Julian! We have matter to compare with the vast literature already existing on the Holy Grail. Concerning relics of saints, I learned that from early on, keepers in charge of the sacred remains would have prepared them for distribution. It was possible to carefully disjoint bones and reverently wrap the portions in small packets for presentation to important visitors, especially those who represented churches where the relics would be venerated. So there is nothing historically unlikely about some of Saint Andrew’s relics being hidden and preserved to go elsewhere when the emperor seized the main portion of them. You are right that Andrew’s shrine in Scotland was the most distant center dedicated to one of the Twelve Apostles. Along with Trier in Germany (for Saint Matthias, brought there by Saint Helena), it vied with Jerusalem, Rome, and Compostela as a pilgrimage site. Reply
Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 I like the description of this group of poems as a “suite” rather than a “sequence.” It provides musical cachet. And thanks very much for the comment, as I neglected to say earlier. Reply
Jeff Eardley December 2, 2023 Margaret, these are such a delight to read. I should have strapped on the life jacket before I started such a perilous journey. Thank you for the information on the St Andrew relics. I have learned so much today from one heck of a brilliant educator. Reply
Margaret Coats December 2, 2023 Thank you, Jeff. Your delight and fright show me that my sea verses are a worthwhile endeavor! If you haven’t been to Saint Andrews, I recommend the trip even though the relics are no longer there–not in recognized form anyway. Artist Jurek Putter, who has done imaginary illustrations on the topic, says he is convinced they still exist. Reply
Brian A. Yapko December 3, 2023 Margaret, whether it be a sequence or a suite (I too prefer the term “suite”) this is an amazing collection of related poems on a story which is cinematic in its depiction of a sea voyage centered around the protection and veneration of St. Andrew’s holy relics. That this story is true is amazing, and yet it reminds of several fictional stories: Cadfael (and the theft of the relics of St. Winifred) and C.S. Lewis’ “Voyage of the Dawn Treader” are two which come to mind. A sea voyage with a spiritual goal. You have tapped into something archetypal here. From a political standpoint, the acquisition of relics was an important aspect of political power (and may well still be.) Here I am reminded of the ambitious city fathers of a young Venice who were anxious to assert Venice’s importance. They then stole relics of St. Mark from their resting place in Alexandria which they then employed as the spiritual/political foundation for the city in addition to being the spiritual heart of the great Basilica San Marcos. I would imagine that when you describe the desire of Constantius II “to glorify” Constantinople you are not referring to spiritual glory only. The poem itself in five parts – each unique in form – is an exciting and enjoyable read. Your use of a first person speaker makes the adventure personal and compelling. Your use of archaic language and imagery (the Pillars of Hercules, the coast of “Afric”) gives the work a nice contemporaneously historical quality. The variances in structure suggest to me the various stages of an epic voyage, but of these variations I most enjoyed the form of “Intention” – especially the unstoppable, locomotive quality of those seven rhyming lines at the end. The subject of holy relics is a fascinating one to me – especially as a non-Catholic. There is a macabre aspect to it. But I can certainly understand the desire to keep a saint close to the heart in a physical, tangible way – or, even more compellingly, a piece of the true cross. Part of it strikes me as a mystery. When I returned from a vacation in Hawaii in 2009, we crossed paths with Hawaii’s bishop who was returning home with a relic from the newly canonized Father Damien of Molokai – now St. Damien. As he carried the reliquary out into the public area he was greeted by a large and boisterous crowd of people thrilled by the return of Hawaii’s great saint. I’ve never forgotten the emotional response of those people or the unexpected wonder it triggered in me to see the ecstatic joy of the faithful welcoming home the relics of a great man. Reply
Margaret Coats December 3, 2023 Brian, that’s a wonderful story of witnessing the return of Saint Damien to Hawaii in his relics. Your whole comment is suffused with the issue of relics–as is my poem! Many persons have difficulty with this topic, so let me add some thoughts here. The unique virtue of relics is that they bring the possessor objectively into the presence of the saint to whom the relic once belonged. One can read of Saint Andrew in the Gospels, and be edified and inspired. One can use the mind and imagination to develop devotion to him. One can pray to him and receive favors from God through his intercession. But the custodian of a relic is actually in his presence. As one woman said of her family’s custody of a relic of Saint Gemma Galgani, “Things are different since Gemma came into the house.” The difference is a spiritual one that arises only because of the material object, and it cannot be adequately explained. It involves the great mystery of the individual human soul. In the body, we tend to focus on bodily things, often to the neglect of our own souls and the souls of other living beings around us. It is more difficult still to understand the mode of being of a great and good saintly soul separated from the body that once belonged to him or her. You, Brian, say there is something macabre about it, and that is true. God made body and soul to be closely and intimately related, as our own body and soul are while we live. We step into another realm to venerate the relics of saints. Reply
Margaret Coats December 4, 2023 To Brian again, I express my thanks for your wide-ranging comment on this suite of poems. Your reference to fictional stories of relics reminds me of one I must mention, which is William L. Biersach’s mystery, “The Search for Saint Valeria.” Biersach was, I believe, a professor at UCLA who wrote a series of mysteries that my children just loved. “Valeria” is of the greatest interest because it was occasioned by the disappearance of relics of Saint Vibiana. Vibiana is one of only four whole-body sets of relics of ancient martyrs that are now in the United States. She was given to a California bishop long ago with the expectation that the cathedral in Los Angeles would be named for her. It was, but the building was not truly a cathedral in scale. When Cardinal Roger Mahony decided to build the current Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Saint Vibiana’s was threatened with destruction, and a wrecking ball knocked off the tower, but the building was sold and refitted after enormous public protest. It still exists as a privately owned performing arts center. The relics had been removed and their location was unknown for years, prompting Biersach’s fictional mystery. They have now reappeared to be venerated in a crypt chapel of the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, which is affectionately known as the Taj Mahony or the Raj Mahal. Reply
Daniel Kemper December 4, 2023 Hey Dr. Coats, I enjoyed the tale. The full flavor of each episode was very satisfying. The dactyls, which I’m really into these days, were as good as any Annie Finch herself might pen — the apparent, current queen of them and alternative meters these days. I always enjoy your frequent blends of verse that bring the esoterically classical into palpable reach. Reply
Margaret Coats December 4, 2023 Daniel, I’m glad you liked the episodes in the voyage. Choosing material for interest is key, I think, because long trips of any kind tend to be tedious. And in this suite or sequence, different meters add rhythmic interest. You’ve mentioned your work in dactyls before, and thus I appreciate your approval of the ones here in “Direction.” They are not strictly dactylic, but neither are those in Annie Finch’s best known dactylic poems. Please excuse my self-referencing, and I’ll link to another post with dactyls in which you might be interested. https://classicalpoets.org/2022/11/23/heirs-to-alexander-and-other-poems-on-the-kalasha-people-by-margaret-coats/ Within this group is “Only the Brave,” with some of Alexander the Great’s soldiers as speakers. I am not imitating classical Greek, but using the strangeness of regular English dactylic hexameters as an appropriate voice–or so I think. Hope you like it. Reply
Stephen Binns December 11, 2023 Admired these very much, Margaret, as well as your “St. Joseph’s Table” in the last Journal. I’m originally from Kansas City, where the Little Italy has a St. Joseph’s Day table tradition. I’m given to understand that only a couple of other American cities have it–New Orleans, I think, and perhaps Buffalo. If you have time to reply, I’d be eager to know where you learned of the tradition. Reply
Margaret Coats December 12, 2023 Thanks for your comment on these, Stephen, and for the mutual interest in Saint Joseph’s Table. I first found one in a California parish with an active Italian Catholic Federation. It was much smaller than the big city Tables. Rather than feeding all comers, it sold baked goods and donated money to the Los Angeles Food Bank, which does timely work to collect expiring groceries and distribute them to anyone in need. At my current parish one Knight of Columbus hands out cards requesting items for a food pantry. All to the honor of Saint Joseph! Reply
Stephen Binns December 12, 2023 Thanks, Margaret. I’d be delighted to know where in California one finds that church. Though I’ve never lived there, I’ve always had a keen interest in California history, especially that of Los Angeles. In Kansas City, the food on the table is donated to the poor, while visitors to the table are served spaghetti: spaghetti milanese, with breadcrumbs, symbolic of sawdust in St. Joseph’s shop. It’s my understanding that the tradition comes from one small village in Sicily and was carried to America only by the townspeople there.
Margaret Coats December 13, 2023 Do you know of the Italian American Museum of Los Angeles (IAMLA)? It’s right downtown, while the church I was speaking of is Our Lady of the Assumption in Claremont–at the east edge of Los Angeles County. Our Lady of the Angels in Arcadia (east side but not east edge) has also had a Saint Joseph Table. IAMLA could tell you more of Saint Joseph Tables; they had an exhibit on them that was closed down in the 2020 Lockdown. You are right that the Tavola di San Giuseppe began at one place in Italy, but I know it spread through Italy, and thus the American Saint Joseph Tables may not come from Sicily only. I don’t know. Do know about breadcrumbs representing sawdust; they’re in my poem, but I used them as a tasty decoration for fennel and dandelion. At home they’re good with pasta con tonno. My family will not tolerate pasta con sarde!
