A Pilgrimage to St. Andrews

Today I embarked on the first of my Scotland side-trips, a pilgrimage to one of the centers of Christianity and Presbyterianism in Scotland: St. Andrews. Named for the patron saint of Scotland, the city is perhaps best known as the birthplace of golf. It is coincidental that I made my journey while the British Open was being played (at Turnberry, on the other side of the island), and I did make time to visit the Old Course at the Royal and Ancient Golf Club (just visit, not play).

But today was a day of providence. First, I managed to find the bus to St. Andrews just in time to board it - the Edinburgh bus station is not easily located! Second, as I was leaving the parish church where Knox served at pastor, I noticed on the signboard that their "Associate" was Dr. Ian Bradley. Turns out he is the author of the book on Pilgrimage that I have been trying to track down since February. Although I missed meeting him, I was directed to a local bookstore where I was able (finally!) to obtain a copy of the book (signed by the author, no less). Third, while I was taking pictures of the old St. Andrews cathedral (now in ruins) in blowing rain by the North Sea shore, something blew onto my camera lens. Don't know what it was, but it looked like mud. Not having any cleaning materials with me, I stopped in the city museum as to where to find a camera store. A passerby overhearing my conversation informed me of the only store in town with a camera specialist. I managed to find him and my lens was cleaned at no charge and with no damage. Anyway, I will remember St. Andrews for two things: providence and rain.

People have been coming to St. Andrews on pilgrimage since the tenth century. The cathedral ruins are impressive - at one time it was the largest building in Scotland. It lies at the site of the first Christian worship in the region, and where a monastery was established in the eighth century. The cathedral was begun in 1158 and dedicated in 1318. It was over 350 feet in length. In St. Andrews, young John Knox, a student at the university, was mentored by George Wishart, a proponent of Calvinism, in the 1540s. Wishart was burned at the stake in St. Andrews (which has an abundance of martyrs in its history), and Knox preached at Holy Trinity Parish Church in the center of town briefly before being taken as a French galley slave. He vowed to preach there again, and did, in 1559 upon his return to Scotland.

The rain, the wind, and the cold prevented me from making more of my time in St. Andrews. It is a place to which I should like to return, in better weather, for a more extended time of devotion and exploration.