History

The earliest genuine evidence we have for Christianity in our diocese is archaeological. Common academic opinion would be that the earliest identifiable Christian artefacts from Whithorn and other sites have a mid-fifth century date and one of our great joys as a diocese is that in addition to St Ninian, we can name other names from that time, both lay and religious. We can name Latinus, Ides, Viventius, Mavorius and Ventidius. From the carved stones we can establish that there was a thriving and developed Christian community both in the Machars and the Rhinns of Galloway. Under St Ninian’s leadership Whithorn became a great centre of learning and evangelisation. One scholar has even commented that in Irish lives of the saints, it became a convention that you had to claim a Whithorn education for them. Daphne Brook, an authority on early Christian Galloway writes most movingly that the evidence points to ‘the growth of a holy place of rare authenticity.’

By the late seventh century, the old British diocese was in decline and it was subsumed into the Northumbrian Church under its first Anglian Bishop, Pechthelm. Under Northumbrian control the diocese of Galloway flourished. A good, short summary of the achievements of the early years is given by Daphne Brook in ‘The See of Ninian’:

‘It began with the shining white cabin (Candida Casa) – a point of light in darkness. A colony of Gaulish dedicated religious were led by a British bishop to a new home and mission base… The Gospel was carried to the southern Picts and the Britons of Strathclyde. Bishops and scholars like St Wynnen were dispatched to Ireland to offer nurture to the young churches there.

Literary sources came with the Northumbrian bishopric, the precinct at Whithorn was enlarged, with new handsome buildings. Books were written in its scriptorium, and letters were carried to and from the continent… a network of mother churches, chapels and stone crosses spread across Galloway… It is a history of a highly organised Christian society.’

During the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance and Reformation periods the diocese of Galloway was subjected to all the pressures associated with a complex and turbulent period in our country’s history. Above all else there was the evolving question of allegiance. Would Galloway be an English or a Scottish Diocese? To which of the many warring parties within Scotland would the Bishop of Galloway owe allegiance? Who had the highest claim on the allegiance of the Bishop of Galloway, the crown or the people of his diocese?

For much of this central period in the history of the Diocese, the Bishop of Galloway certainly from the time of Bishop Gilla-Aldan, was consecrated by and took an oath of allegiance to the Archbishop of York. This allegiance to the Archdiocese of York lasted through the reign of David I and down through the period of the Wars of Independence and it was not until the consecration of Michael de Mackenlagh in 1355 as Bishop of Galloway that the link with York was severed.

It was not the only link that was severed, so too increasingly was that between the Bishop and his people. As Richard Oram has commented ‘…Mackenlagh’s episcopate marked a turning point in the history of the see. Whereas his predecessors had been powerful figures in Galwegian society, and many had been renowned for their spirituality, from the middle of the fourteenth century the holders of the see were chiefly careerists and benefice-seekers, often getting elevation as a reward for loyal service to the Black Douglas lords of Galloway and, after 1455, as servant of the crown. This was to be the continuing pattern up to the Reformation when the last pre-restoration Bishop of Galloway, Alexander Gordon, transferred his allegiance to the Reformed Church in 1560.

Perhaps the best way of tackling the final part of the history of our diocese is to begin with the restoration of the hierarchy in 1878 and the appointment of Bishop John McLachlan. This is not a starting point, but it is a pivotal one, pivotal in that process described by Bernard Aspinwall in these terms: ‘…the history of the modern diocese is a tale of ordinary folk achieving extraordinary feats. It expresses unity in diversity.’ Diversity there certainly was, town people and country people, mostly poor but some very wealthy, native Scots, Irish, Italian, Polish, Lithuanian, Spanish, French and the list could go on. There was a need for unity, order and stability. In Bernard Aspinwall’s words ‘The Church in Scotland needed stability and order to win a hearing for its message before a hostile audience, to secure income to service her debts and work for her children.’ From the 1870’s right through to the Second World War and beyond the vision and thrust came from the hierarchy and clergy, but the ground work and the money came from the people of God. The Church was stabilised on three foci, the home, the school and the parish. The value and role of each element has again been captured beautifully by Bernard Aspinwall: ‘The focus on the home increased the sense of Catholicity but also reflected the powerlessness of Catholics outside in the larger world – denigrated, despised and usually disfranchised. The family fortress, with its ‘privatised’ religion, sustained the faith against various external challenges. That safe haven persisted until the rapid social changes after 1945 and the religious changes after Vatican II’. As for the local parish church: ‘…churches in a way became the drawing rooms of the poor. They were pleasing, comfortable and filled with music, incense and communal celebrations of friends.’ Of schools there is this telling comment: ‘The Sisters of the Cross and Passion opened the first Catholic secondary school in Ayrshire in 1921… A solid Catholic infrastructure was taking shape. In exercising their Christian calling, the nuns were closing the gaps in the encircled wagon train: the enemies of the faith would have very limited opportunities for proselytism. Catholics might begin to advance themselves.’ With that advancement would come not just the opportunity, but the obligation to uncircle the wagon train and go out to the world carrying the Good News.

A key moment in the history of our Diocese and one whose consequences have not as yet been realised was the Renew process introduced by Bishop Taylor in 1986-88. We need to remind ourselves of the fruits of that process and the potential it released (and continues to release):

• recognition of the local Church (diocese/parish) as a communion and the consequences of that;
• an awareness of the Church (i.e. us) with its mission of evangelising;
• realisation of the giftedness of all the baptised, empowered to serve others;

• a great flowering of lay ministry, both in the liturgy and in service to those in need;
• the discovery of small faith-sharing groups;
• widespread use of and familiarity with the scriptures;
• a serious commitment to Christian unity;
• an awareness of God’s call to each of us to conversion, renewal and holiness. 

The late Bishop Maurice Taylor wrote in his epilogue to ‘The See of Ninian. A History of the Medieval Diocese of Galloway and the Diocese of Galloway in Modern Times’: “It is unwise to write contemporary history. One can appear very insightful in informal conversation but to commit one’s views to paper and publication is to invite the scorn of posterity”.

At the risk of inviting the scorn of posterity, it is perhaps necessary to update this short account of the See of Ninian in the light of events occurring since the ordination of Bishop Nolan in 2015.

The great upheaval of Covid overtook our world and affected us as a Church in ways no one could have foreseen nine years ago. Who could have anticipated locked churches, the celebration of Mass with only the celebrant present, the onset of ‘livestreaming’, the inability of priests to visit the sick and the dying and the numerous other difficulties and restriction of the time. While there was much deserved praise for those who selflessly went to the assistance of others, the is no doubt that Covid was a catastrophe at a variety of levels not the least of which was the enforced separation of Christians, those whose vocation is to live in communion with each other and with the world. The journey of the Pilgrim Church came to an enforced halt. Even now we must mee the challenge of recovering lost ground.

It is well worth revisiting the eight fruits of the Renew process (see above) as a ‘Synodal Church in Mission’ “…walking with Christ towards the kingdom, together with all humanity; mission-oriented, coming together at the different ecclesial levels of life listening to one another, in dialogue and discernment, building consensus”. (Paraphrased from ‘A Synodal Church in Mission’, The summary report of the Synod on Synodality, October 2023.)

Father Philip Kitchen