3. SAINT AELFHEAH, HIEROMARTYR ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY

St. Aelfheah (Alphege) was born in 954 of pious parents, who soon handed him over to be instructed in literature and the Christian Faith. Seeking a more total commitment, however, the saint abandoned his paternal inheritance and, ignoring his mother's tears, entered the monastery of Deerhurst in Gloucestershire, whose ancient church survives to the present day. There, while still an adolescent, he excelled in prayer, vigil, fasting and charity.

Some years later, he went to Bath and built for himself a small cell in which he lived the life of a hermit with the strictest asceticism. Soon certain nobles started coming to him for confession and spiritual advice. As his fame increased, donations poured in – which he immediately gave to the poor.

Others left the world and sought to live the monastic life under his direction; and so St. Dunstan appointed him abbot of a small monastery, although he had no desire for such a position.

On becoming abbot, however, he did not slacken his ascetic way of life, and continued to live in his little cell. He appointed a suitable overseer to supply the material needs of the monastery, but decided all important matters himself.

The saint warned his monks that their condemnation would be the greater if, while professing to be monks and wearing the monastic habit, they continued to live like men of the world. But this did not prevent them from indulging in secret nocturnal feasts and orgies. One night, however, the leader of the revels was suddenly struck dead in the middle of a feast. The saint was, as usual, offering up tearful prayers to God when he heard loud voices coming from the monastery. Thinking that thieves had broken in, or that the brethren were being disturbed by some demonic ruse, he came closer. Then he saw two terrible and foul-looking men beating the man who had just died with whips and flaming serpents. To his pathetic pleas for mercy they replied:

«You did not obey God, so neither shall we obey you.»

After repeating this several times, they dragged their captive away.

In 984, the bishop of Winchester, St. Aethelwold, reposed in peace. Immediately a dissension arose as to who should succeed him. St. Dunstan, the archbishop of Canterbury, was praying about this when the holy Apostle Andrew appeared to him and said:

«Why are you sad, beloved? Why do you tearfully pour out such mournful complaints? Rise, and place your hand on Abbot Aelfheah; and when you have anointed him with holy oil make him the bishop of the widowed Church. And do not allow any power to stop you; for this decision has issued, not from a man, but from the mouth of Almighty God. And lest I should leave you in any doubt as to the identity of the man speaking with you, I am Andrew, the apostle of the Son of God and the most loving guardian of your salvation.»

Dunstan joyfully told this vision to King Aethelred, and when a council had been convened everyone cried out that they wishes what God wishes and what God's archbishop should decide. Then two bishops, one on either side, led the bishop-elect into the church to the acclaim of the people.

«Many years!» they cried.

And then he was consecrated. This took place on October 19. Immediately after the consecration, the saint set out to visit his new see. The citizens came out to meet him, chanting:

«Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord!»

He was enthroned in St. Aethelwold's cathedral in Winchester on October 28.

At Winchester, as at Deerhurst and Bath, St. Aelfheah was distinguished by his charity to others and severity to himself. At night he would go out to pray, barefoot and thinly clad even in the coldest weather. And his body was so emaciated by fasting that, as many people noticed, his hands when uplifted seemed almost transparent. At the same time, he attended so carefully to the needs of the poor that it was said that there were no beggars in Winchester during his episcopate. And many were the miracles wrought through his intercession.

Among his good works was his confirmation (the western equivalent of chrismation) of the Norwegian King Olaf Trygvasson, who had been ravaging the countryside. After being confirmed, King Olaf promised the bishop never to return to England with warlike intent. He then returned to his native land and converted them to the Christian Faith with the aid of English bishops and priests.

On hearing the fame of Aelfheah's holy preaching and life, St. Dunstan rejoiced and prayed to God that this man, young as he was (only thirty at the time of his consecration) would succeed him in the primatial see of Canterbury. And his prayer was granted, though not immediately but only eighteen years after his own death in 988. For in 1005, on the death of Archbishop Aelfric, St. Aelfheah was translated from Winchester to Canterbury at the age of fifty-two.

A few days later, the saint set out for Rome to receive the archbishop's pallium from the Pope. He entered a town just inside Italy and rested for a while. But the citizens, noticing that they had a stranger in their midst, broke into his house and stole all his goods, driving him out with blows and insults. With admirable equanimity, the saint set out on his return journey. He had not gone far when the town's ramparts suddenly caught fire, showering burning ashes on the neighbouring houses and threatening the citizens with destruction. They rushed out into the streets and watched helplessly as the flames rose higher and spread further. Then, coming to their senses, they realized that the fire was God's vengeance on them for their maltreatment of the holy man. They rushed after him and tearfully begged him to return.

«Let us return,» he said, «that we may see the fire from closer quarters.»

When he saw the fire, his eyes filled with tears and he prayed to God. Suddenly the flames were suspended in mid-air, and the fire which had spread through many houses was found outside the town walls. Recognizing the author of the miracle, the townspeople flowed out to him like a stream with gifts in their hands. But Aelfheah replied:

«Keep what is yours; I am satisfied with my own things. Only do not cast out strangers from your homes. Receive all who come to you and look after them. God dwells in good men, and therefore it is good for one person to receive another in whom God dwells. But if your estimate turns out to be mistaken, and the man whom you considered to be religious is found to be the opposite, you will not lose your reward. For God honours the good intention.»

Finally, the saint arrived in Rome and sought an audience with the Pope. They spoke together, and the Pope came to love him so much that he honoured him publicly in the presence of the Roman Senate. One day, the saint was saddened in countenance. Surprised at this, his companions came to him, one after the other, seeking the reason for his grief.

«No-one,» he said, «will see me happy today; for he who succeeded me at Winchester has died.»

This was difficult to believe, since no-one had come with news from England. But on the other hand, it was easy to believe; for the saint had never been known to lie. The Pope and the Archbishop said goodbye to each other and parted, both joyful and sad. And when Aelfheah had already crossed the Alps, a group of English nobility on the way to Rome came up to him and, in answer to his inquiry, said that the bishop of Winchester had died on the very day (his companions noted) on which the saint had been so sad. The news of this further demonstration of the saint's supernatural gifts spread throughout England.

The nation's morale was at a very low ebb when the saint returned. The Danes were ravaging the land with fire and sword, and the tribute offered them by the king only seemed to increase their greed. Desertions from the army were commonplace; and sometimes even noblemen with their ships joined the other side. The king with his councillors, including St. Aelfheah, passed laws strengthening ecclesiastical discipline and penalizing traitors, with the death penalty ordained for those who should plot against the king's life. And in 1008 the archbishop and his synod proclaimed the day of the martyrdom of King Edward, the king's half-brother, a national feastday – another clear warning to potential traitors and king-killers.

However, the sad story continued, with indecision, incompetence and treachery the order of the day. Thus «when the enemy was in the east,» bemoaned The Anglo- Saxon Chronicle, «then our levies were mustered in the west; and when they were in the south, then our levies were in the north. Then all the councillors were summoned to the king, for a plan for the defence of the realm had to be devised then and there. But whatever course of action was decided upon it was not followed for a single month. In the end there was no leader who was willing to raise levies, but each fled as quickly as he could; nor even in the end would one shire help another.»

The upshot of all this was that in 1013 King Aethelred was forced to go into exile through the treachery of his subjects. Even worse, perhaps, than this was the treachery which led to the death of St. Aelfheah the year before. The story was as follows.

In the autumn of 1011 the Danes besieged Canterbury and sacked it. They were helped, on the one hand, by Abbot Elfmar of Canterbury, who, though he owed his life to St. Aelfheah, now turned against him and his fellow citizens; and, on the other, by Alderman Edric Streona of Mercia. Edric had come to be involved in the sack of Canterbury through his brother, a proud and cruel man who slandered the nobility of Canterbury in the king's presence and then violently burned their inheritance. But they rose up and killed him, burning down his house. Edric demanded vengeance from the king for his brother's death; but the king refused, saying that his brother had been justly punished. Then Edric, determined to avenge his brother, collected an army of ten thousand well-armed men. Realizing, however, that these forces were insufficient, he came to an agreement with the Danes whereby, in exchange for their help, they would retain the north of England in the case of victory while he held the south.

Meanwhile, St. Aelfheah had been preaching, redeeming captives, feeding the hungry and even converting many of the invaders. This was another reason why the Danes were eager to unite with Edric against the men of Canterbury. And as they approached the city from Sandwich, the people fled to the cathedral, convinced that they were safe there. The nobility, meanwhile, urged St. Aelfheah to flee. But he refused, saying that he had no intention of being a hireling. Then he gathered the people together and exhorted them to have courage and patience, setting before them the triumphs of the martyrs. Finally, having blessed them and communicated them in the Holy Mysteries, he dismissed them in peace, commending them all to the protection of God.

The enemy came and laid siege to the city. On the twentieth day, the saint sent to the Danes, exhorting them to desist from their purpose and warning them that when a father wishes to beat his sons, he afterwards throws the stick into the fire. In a similar way God would punish the Danes even after using them to chastize the English.

But the English traitors under Edric were only the more incited to cruelty by the sight of their fellow countrymen's distress. They set fire to the houses, and soon, fanned by a strong south wind, the fire spread everywhere. Torn between whether to stay on the ramparts and defend the city, or rush down to their houses, the citizens finally chose the latter course. And soon they were dragging beloved wives and children out of the burning houses – only to see them immediately cut down by the swords of the enemy. For now that the ramparts were unguarded they were able (with Abbot Elfmar's help) to enter unhindered, with such a terrible clamour of trumpets and voices that it seemed as if the city were being shaken to its foundations.

«No-one who was not a spectator of that calamity,» writes the saint's biographer, Osbern of Canterbury, «would know how to describe the reality of it, and the wretchedness of its confusion of evils. Some had their throats cut, others perished in the flames, still more were thrown over the walls. Others, shameful to relate, were hung up by their private parts and expired thus. Ladies more distinguished than others by their nobility were dragged through the streets of the city because they could not produce treasures which they did not possess. Finally they were thrown into the flames and died. The cruelty was especially savage against those under age; while babes were ripped out of their mother's womb or pierced through with spears or crushed to pieces under waggon wheels...

«The venerable prelate, unable to bear so many deaths among his spiritual children, suddenly, while he was surrounded by a crowd of weeping monks in the church of the Saviour, slipped out of the hands of those restraining him, rushed to a place full of corpses, hurled himself amidst a dense mass of the enemy and with groans cried out:

««Have pity, have pity! And if you recognize yourselves to be men, put an end to your persecution of the innocent! Instead of these, take me, who, to increase the Christian people, despoiled you of many a soldier, and who, with unrestrained lips, always condemned the crimes of your impiety!»»

Innumerable hands seized him, stopped his mouth, bound his hands, scratched his face with their nails, punched and kicked him in the sides. The man of God uttered not a sound, but his lips moved as if he were speaking to God. Then he was forced to witness death after death in front of his very eyes so that he might suffer every torment, whether in his own person or in the persons of those whom he mourned.

Then the Danes came to the cathedral church of the Saviour. They set fire to it, and soon molten lead from the roof was seeping into the building. Covering their heads with their palls, the weeping monks ran out of all the doors of the building, only to be cut down by the swords of the soldiers waiting outside.

Out of the eight thousand inhabitants of Canterbury, only four monks and some eight hundred others survived the sack. The survivors, after suffering blows and wounds, were either judged worthy of being ransomed – these included Bishop Godwin of Rochester, Abbess Leofrun of St. Mildred's and all the clergy except Abbot Elfmar of St. Augustinés monastery (not the traitor) – or were sold into slavery.

The archbishop had seen his people slaughtered, the city burned down and the cathedral church of Christ the Saviour profaned and devastated. Now he was bound and dragged through the north gate of the city. There lay the survivors with stocks on their feet and under military guard. On seeing him, they all groaned and wept and raised their hands to heaven in prayer. But then, as the saint stood strengthening their shattered souls in prayer, he was given a ferocious blow between the shoulders, so that his shoulder was cut open and blood poured over his whole body. Even the Danes were horrified. Then he was led from the city to the ships, from the ships to the prison, from the prison to the judge, and finally back to the prison, which was dark, narrow and full of frogs. There he remained under a guard of twelve soldiers for another seven months. The Danes offered him freedom in exchange for money from the Church's patrimony; but he refused. And so, as Pascha of the year 1012 approached, the saint was still in prison, celebrating the Passion of Christ as he was able, in humility and contrition of heart.

«Then was he a captive,» wrote the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, «who had been the head of England and of Christendom. There could misery be seen where often bliss was seen before, in that unhappy city, whence Christianity came first to us, and both spiritual and earthly bliss...»

Meanwhile, the wrath of God was falling upon the Danes. Two thousand of their soldiers fell ill of a terrible internal malady and died shortly after; while many others, similarly struck, awaited death. The Christians advised them to recognize their crime against Christ, to confess, weep and make amends to the archbishop. But they did not accept this advice, attributing their misfortunes to the instability of Chance rather than the will of God. But death reigned over all those who had planned to kill the archbishop: great numbers of them were attacked, tormented and wasted away by a terrible pain in the bowels. Meanwhile, a great fear of death overcame the living. Finally they ran to the captive saint, bewailed their sins with tears, and besought him to pray to God on their behalf.

It was Holy Thursday, the day on which the Lord gave His Most Pure Body and Blood to His disciples. St. Aelfheah was brought out of prison and honourably seated in the magistratés chair. He told the Danes that their terrible cruelty did not merit them a pardon, but that he was determined to imitate the example of his Lord,

Who gave holy bread even to the man who betrayed Him and forgave those who crucified Him.

«Therefore,» he said, «forgetting the burning of the city, the injuries which have been inflicted upon myself, your past impiety, and the slaughter of the innocents, I shall intercede for my torturers as He interceded with the Father for those who crucified Him. So take this bread – it will immediately heal you. Only, when you have eaten and obtained health in accordance with your desire, give solemn thanks to the Saviour, or you will remain more guilty of blasphemy.»

Then he blessed bread and gave to them. They were all healed. From Holy Thursday to Holy Saturday no-one died.

Seeing this, the leaders of the Danes sent four of their military commanders to the saint. They thanked him, but then said that they would give him life and liberty in exchange for a ransom of sixty talents of silver weighing fifty pounds, together with his services in persuading the king to pay another two hundred talents as the price of a truce between the two nations. The saint refused, saying that the embassy was illegal and their demands impossible. They were mistaken if they thought he would rob the Church or betray the honour of his king and country to satisfy their avarice.

«It is not done for a Christian to hand over Christian flesh to be devoured by pagan teeth.»

The Danes came to him a second time, asking him – in a gentler manner this time – to affix his seal to an order authorizing the despoliation of the estates of the Church, in exchange for which he would be redeemed. Again the saint refused, citing the example of the holy Martyr Laurence of Rome, who, on being entrusted with the treasures of the Church, gave them away to the poor lest they should fall into the hands of the persecutors.

«If St. Laurence gave what was not theirs to the poor, how can I take what is theirs from the poor?

Then they raged terribly, gnashing on him with their teeth, and decided to carry out the sentence that had been passed on him. New tortures were applied; but he remained immovable. Then, in the night of Friday of Bright Week, the devil devised a different and subtler means of breaking the saint's resistance. Having caused the guards to fall into a light sleep, he appeared to him in the form of an angel of light, declaring that for the sake of the common good he was going to lead the saint out of the squalor of the prison.

«Fear not the stigma of cowardice,» he said; «you are not more sublime than Peter, nor stronger than Paul. The one was delivered from prison by an angel, and the other was let down in a basket. Christ Himself slipped out of the hands of those who were going to stone Him, and commanded His disciples to flee in time of persecution.»

Deceived by these words, the saint followed the deceiver out of the prison. But when they had crossed several water-logged fields in the thick darkness, the devil suddenly disappeared. Realizing his error, the saint groaned and threw himself down in the middle of the marshes, crying with tears to the Lord:

«O Giver of life, O only Guide of the race of Adam, why hast Thou deprived me of Thy grace in my old age when Thou never didst leave me in the prime of life? Thou hast mercifully preserved me for so long, and dost Thou now cast me away in the extremity of life? O Thou Who art all I desire, all that I long to enjoy, what use is it to have triumphed in battle throughout the long day, but at the end of it to be conquered and deprived of the fruits of victory? Or what praise is it to have embarked on the voyage and escaped shipwreck in the middle of the sea, only to suffer the shipwreck of unexpected death on the shore? How many times have I found Thee to be my Saviour in the shipwrecks of life! Now, I beseech Thee, send me consolation in this snare of the devil, a helper in troubles and tribulations.»

«At evening shall weeping find lodging, but in the morning rejoicing» (Psalm 29.5). And «the angel of the Lord shall encamp round about them that fear Him, and will deliver them» (Psalm 33.7). Thus it was for the man of God. For as dawn arose, a young man adorned in golden splendour stood before him, and asked him where he was fleeing to. The bishop replied that he was not fleeing, but had obeyed the voice of a Divine command.

«That was no Divine command,» said the angel, «but a device of the devil. He did not wish so much to lead you out of prison as to seduce you once outside. Return, therefore, to your place, where a crown is laid up for you in heaven. Tomorrow the Father will honour you, and you will be eternally in the greatest honour in the heavens with His Son.»

The saint therefore returned to the place of contest and joyfully awaited the hour in which he would receive his crown from God.

The hour drew near, and a crowd of turbulent men burst into the prison, seized him, showered him with many blows, breaking his skull, and finally thrust him into the place where all the refuse was thrown out and burned.

Most of the night had passed and on the Saturday after Pascha, April 19, 1012, was beginning to dawn. Suddenly St. Dunstan appeared to the man of God, his face and vestments shining gloriously, amidst sweet-smelling fragrance and the mellifluous chants of the saints. Stretching out his hands to St. Aelfheah, he announced to him his forthcoming death and the reward of eternal life laid up for him. Then his bonds were loosed, his wounds closed and his whole body was restored to perfect health.

On seeing these things, the guards were terrified. They told their fellows, who came rushing up to see the manifestation of God's grace. Then the leaders of the Danish army, seeing their men deserting in droves to the man of God, hastily passed the sentence of death upon him, lest they should lose more through him than through a multitude of external enemies. The saint was bound and led to the place of judgement under a large armed guard. A great crowd of the faithful followed him, weeping and mourning. But he besought them not to hinder his struggle against the prince of this world, but to help him by their prayers.

He was only an arrow's flight away when a vast murmur went through the whole council:

«Give us gold, bishop, or today you will be a spectacle to the world.»

The bishop was silent for a while from exhaustion, and stood still, supported reverently by the hands of his own people. Then, having recovered his breath, he replied:

«I offer you the gold of Divine wisdom. Abandon the vanity which you love, and devote your zeal to the one living, true and eternal God. But if you obstinately despise the counsel of God which is announced to you through me, you will suffer a worse fate than the death of Sodom.»

At that, the mob, unable to withstand the force of his words and foaming with rage, jumped up from their seats. However, Thurkill, one of the Danish leaders, on seeing the wicked men gathering their weapons to kill the saint, ran quickly and said:

«Do not do this, I beg you. I will give to all of you with a willing heart gold and silver and all that I have here or can get by any means, except only my ship, on condition that you do not sin against the Lord's Anointed.»

Later, Thurkill, who had interceded for St. Aelfheah, together with forty-five of his ships transferred his allegiance from the Danes to the English and became a Christian. But the unbridled anger of his comrades, harder than iron or stone, was not softened by such gentle words. They knocked the saint down with the backs of their battle-axes, and then stoned him with the heads of oxen and showers of stones and blocks of woods. But he, bending his right knee on the earth, prayed thus:

«O Lord Jesus, Only-begotten Son of the Most High Father, Who camest into the world through the womb of an incorrupt Virgin to save sinners, receive me in peace and have mercy on these men.»

Then, falling to the earth and rising again, he said:

«O Good Shepherd, O only Shepherd, look with compassion on the sons of the Church, whom I, dying, commend to Thee.»

Then a man named Thrum, whom the saint himself had received from the font of Holy Baptism, seeing him in agony and on the edge of death, took his axe and clove his head through, thereby releasing his soul to eternal glory.

Immediately one of the Danish leaders was crippled in his limbs, and realized that he had sinned against Christ's elect, as it is written: «Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord» (Romans 12.19).

St. Aelfheah was martyred at Greenwich, to the east of London, on the south bank of the river Thames. And the leaders of the Danes now threw his body into the river. But then a crowd of people who had been taught by him took arms, determined to die rather than to allow the body through which they had received the mystery of Holy Baptism to be submerged in water. And so they guarded it, allowing it neither to be submerged nor to be buried. Then representatives of both parties met to resolve the dispute, and an agreement was reached. The Danes said:

«Look at this branch cut off from an ash-tree with neither sap nor bark. If we smear this with his blood and find it flowering in the morning, then we shall agree that we have killed a holy and righteous man, and you can bury him with honour. But if the wood remains dry, then we shall say that you have erred in your love for him and the decision about what to do with the body will be ours.»

The next morning the dry wood was putting forth leaves. Seeing this, the Danes rushed to the holy body, embraced it with tears and groans, and then, taking it upon their shoulders, brought it to the tree in triumph. Here innumerable miracles took place: the sick were healed, the blind were given their sight, the deaf their hearing, the dumb their tongues. Then at the place of martyrdom a church was built (its Anglican successor still stands), and a multitude of leading Danes were baptized and received into the bosom of the Holy Church. Finally, Bishops Ednoth and Aelfhun and the citizens of London received his holy body, and brought it to London with all reverence, and buried it in St. Paul's church, where miracles continued to the martyr's glory.

On June 8, 1023, St. Aelfheah's body was placed in an adorned royal barge, and then, escorted by the Danish King Canute, Archbishop Ethelnoth of Canterbury and other bishops and earls, was taken across the Thames first to Southwark and then to Rochester. Here the procession was joined by Queen Emma and her son, and «with much state and rejoicing and hymns of praise» the relics were conveyed to Canterbury. On June 15, the relics were enshrined by the bishops and clergy.»

Soon both dates – that of his martyrdom, and that of his translation – were entered into the calendar of the English Church. But soon after the Norman Conquest, his sanctity and status as a martyr was questioned by the first papist archbishop of

Canterbury, Lanfranc. However, he consulted Anselm, his successor, about this, and Anselm replied that Aelfheah was a martyr for justice as St. John the Baptist had been a martyr for truth.

No truly Christian hierarch would have questioned Aelfheah's sanctity. In any case, any residual doubts were removed by the discovery, in 1105, that his body was still incorrupt. For St. Aelfheah, ascetic, hierarch, patriot and martyr, deserved the highest accolade: «Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends» (John 15.13).

St. Aelfheah is commemorated on April 19 and June 8.

Holy Hieromartyr Aelfheah, pray to God for us!

(Sources: Osbern of Canterbury, Vita S. Elphegi, in H. Wharton, Anglia Sacra, 1691, II, pp. 122–147; The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, E, 1009, 1010, 1011, 1012; Thietmar of Merseburg, Chronicle; Fr. Andrew Phillips, Orthodox Christianity and the English Tradition, The English Orthodox Trust, 1995, chapter 78; David Farmer, The Oxford Dictionary of Saints, Clarendon Press, 1978, pp. 13–14)