A Tribute to St John of Beverley (7th May 721) This week we commemorate the 1300th anniversary of the death of St John of Beverley, whose life and witness is one of the foundation stones of the whole Church in the north of England: he is one of the foundation stones on which we ourselves are built, and his quiet witness continues to comfort and inspire those of us who have been touched by his testimony in our own time. We might even see him as one of the spiritual guardians who continue to look down on us from within the communion of saints, from within the companionship of God – who is ‘not God of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive’ (Luke 20.38). John of Beverley bears witness – his memory continues to bear witness – to the Presence of God among us as the source and meaning and expression of life ‘in its fullness’ (John 10.10). This emphasis on the awakening within us of fullness of life is the core of the faith of Easter, of the resurrection itself. Like all the saints, John of Beverley bears witness to that most of all. Most of what we know about John is what is described to us in the Ecclesiastical History of the English People which was written by Bede about a decade after John’s death. Bede had been ordained by John, and it is obvious that he held his bishop in affection and esteem: one of the themes of his book is the development of the early Christianity of this country through relationships which were nourished by genuine kindness and goodwill. But among these pioneers of English Christianity, the foundation stones of our own faith and witness today, John exemplifies especially a kind of discretion. Bede describes John in his public life as a faithful preacher of the Gospel and as a man of healing, but it is his private life – his hidden life – which is more important still. John withdraws from public attention; he favours stillness and prayer: it is this which is the source of his preaching and his power to cure. Among the miracles which Bede describes are two which are especially delightful in the way they reflect a character of modesty and restraint as well as vibrant faith. In one, a mute and scabby-headed youth is brought before John, who prayed for him and arranged for a doctor to attend to his needs. When the scabs were healed, when a full head of hair was restored, when the youth began once again to be able to speak, John invited him to join his own household. ‘But he rather chose to return home’ (Ecclesiastical History, Book 5, Chapter 2). John lets him go, without the slightest hint that he owes anything at all for having been healed. In another place, John is brought to a nun with a severely infected arm. He prays for her, gives her a blessing, and then leaves her in peace. ‘As soon as the bishop had said the prayer, given me his blessing, and gone out, I immediately began to mend,’ she tells us; ‘and although I have not yet recovered my former strength, yet all the pain is quite gone away from my arm, where it was most intense, and from all my body, as if the bishop had carried it away with him’ (Ecclesiastical History, Book 5, Chapter 3). John did not feel the need to wait for the results of his prayers: he simply prayed and entrusted his prayers to God. But for the nun, Coenberg, it was ‘as if’ he had taken the pain into himself and carried it away. Both ‘miracles’ describe him as someone of self-effacing, transparent to God, and requiring no gratification for his own ego. His kindness, his prayers, his ministration of comfort and of healing come with no obligation or cost: they are offered freely and without condition. He places no duty or burden on those whom he helps. He is willing to carry other people’s pain. Bede describes one further detail which gives insight into John’s character and motivations. ‘He continued in his see thirty-three years, and then ascending to the heavenly kingdom, was buried in St Peter’s Porch, in his own monastery, called Inderawood [now Beverley], in the year of our Lord’s incarnation 721. For having, by his great age, become unable to govern his bishopric, he ordained Wilfrid, his priest, bishop of the church of York, and retired to the aforesaid monastery, and there ended his days in holy conversation’ (Ecclesiastical History, Book 5, Chapter 6). When texts like this speak of ‘holy conversation’ they mean meditation and prayer – reflection on the wonder of God as our source and inspiration and life as a whole. This is John’s own foundation and strength, instead of forcefulness of character, busy-ness and self-assertion. He bears witness that the inner work of the spirit, self-restraint, discretion and self-commendation into the hands of God are what really make the difference. Let us recognise and value these things in ourselves as we thank God for John this week.