Feast of the Translation of the Relics of Saint Gilbert of Sempringham

 

It was a wonderful sight to see this old man with his body bent with age, his bones scarce cleaving to his flesh, and his whole frame pallid and wasted, yet still capable of managing the affairs of his Order, and going about with his eye undimmed, and his mind as vigorous as ever. At length, however, his sight failed him and he became quite blind before he died. Then he sent for Roger, Prior of Malton, and put the whole management of the Order into his hands. Still, however, the spirit rose above the body; he could not ride, but he was borne in a litter from place to place. His brethren were very anxious that he should take his meals in his bedroom, for the refectory was a long way off, and there were some steps to be mounted at the entrance. He, however, never would consent to this arrangement, and said: "Gilbert will never set an example to his successors of eating good things in his room." So every day he was carried by some of the brethren into the refectory. Even in this extreme old age, when his limbs hardly held together, he kept his old practice of watching at night, and would rise when all were asleep and kneel by the side of his bed; and when once he was discovered in this posture by his brethren, he half chid them, as though they had not made his bed comfortably the evening before, to account for his being found in this strange posture. When his external sense had failed him, the eye of his soul was the more fixed upon God, and tears often ran down his cheeks as he thought upon his Saviour and His infinite mercies. He would often speak on spiritual things with the brethren, but his words were few and short, and he soon relapsed into silence, which was often broken by strong prayers and ejaculations which burst from him, "How long, Lord, wilt Thou forget me for ever?" "Woe is me, for the time of my sojourning is prolonged!" And if he ever thought that he had spoken more than he ought, he would at once kneel down and repeat the confession of the Church, humbly begging to be absolved. In this way he lived on, hardly holding to earth either by body or soul, till he was more than a hundred years old; at length, early in the year 1189, he felt his end to be approaching, and he sent letters to all his priories to beg that prayers should be offered for him, leaving his blessing behind him, and absolving all from their sins against the rule, at the same time solemnly warning all those who should quarrel with their brethren and break the peace of the Order, that this absolution would profit them nothing. He was then at Cadney, one of the lonely island monasteries of the Order, and so near his end was he thought to be, that he received extreme unction, and the last rites of the Church. But he rallied, and the dying Saint still crossed the waters which surrounded the island, and his chaplains bore their precious burden to Sempringham, through lonely places, lest they should be forcibly detained by any one who might wish Gilbert's bones to lie in his church. All the priors of the Order had time to assemble and come to him. Here he was lying, as was thought, in a sort of stupor on his bed, and no one was with him but the canon who eventually succeeded him as prior. He was conscious of no one's presence, when he was heard murmuring low to himself the Antiphone in the service for a confessor, "He hath dispersed abroad, and given to the poor." Then, he continued in the same low tone, as though he were expounding it in the church, "Yes, he hath dispersed to many persons; he gave, he did not sell; it was to the poor, too, not to the rich." And then he subjoined as if to the canon who was with him, "It is thy place to do so now." He continued in this half-unconscious state through the night, till, as the morning dawned, and the convent was singing the lauds for Saturday, and the reader's voice repeated, "The night is far spent, the day is at hand," the eternal morning dawned on the blessed Saint, and his soul passed into the hands of its Creator.

This was on Saturday, the 4th of February 1189. Twelve years after, on the Eve of Holy Cross Day, 1202, a vast concourse assembled at Sempringham to witness the translation of his relics to a more honourable place in the church of the Priory. He had wrought no miracles in his lifetime, but when he was dead God was pleased, through his intercession, to heal many who came to kneel at his tomb. In the beginning of the year, Innocent II had canonised him, after a judicial inquiry into his merits and the miracles wrought by his body; and now the Archbishop of Canterbury, with other bishops, and many an abbot, came to translate his relics. Then the body of Saint Gilbert was raised on the shoulders of England's chief nobles, and in solemn procession was borne to the place which it was to occupy. Truly, God doth bring down the mighty from their seat, and exalt the humble and meek.

Source Life of Saint Gilbert (the glory of English religious life)  by Father Dalgairns of the Congregation of the Oratory