Stories of Our Beloved Brighid
Art by Yuri Leitch
Brighid, daughter of the Dagda and the Morrígan, was born on the first day of February — the day that became sacred as Imbolc. At the moment of her birth, just as the sun rose over the horizon, flames encircled her brow, marking her as a child of both fire and inspiration.
Because the Morrígan was not known for nurturing, the infant Brighid was suckled by a white, otherworldly cow with red ears. She was raised in the Otherworld, tending an apple orchard whose bees flew freely between this world and the next. From her earliest years, Brighid loved learning, wisdom, and inspiration. In time she founded a school at Kildare, where she tended a sacred grove. There she trained her followers for thirty years: the first ten spent in study, the second in service, and the last in teaching. They learned to gather healing herbs, tend livestock, and forge iron into tools.
In her grove at Kildare stood an ancient oak, a healing well, and an everlasting flame. Nineteen women tended that flame, each keeping watch for a day, while on the twentieth day Brighid herself was said to guard it. She was known to reward any offering, and so began the custom of casting coins into wells in her honor. Brighid was patroness of poets and musicians, lighting the fire of inspiration in their hearts. Some tales say she was wed to Senchán Torpéist, the great poet who preserved the Táin Bó Cúailnge.
Many healing wonders are attributed to her. It is told that two lepers once came seeking her aid. She instructed them to bathe each other in her sacred well until they were healed. One obeyed, washing his companion until the sores vanished from his skin. But the man who was healed recoiled at the sight of the other’s illness and refused to touch him. When Brighid learned of this, she struck him again with leprosy, while the faithful one she wrapped in her mantle — and instantly he was made whole.
Brighid is also said to have consorted with Breas, the handsome but unjust king whose misrule brought on the Second Battle of Moytura. Their son, Ruadán, was taught by his mother’s kin, yet fought for his father’s Fomorian people. He sought to kill his uncle, Gobniu the Smith, but Gobniu struck back and Ruadán fell. At the death of her son, Brighid lifted her voice in the first keening. Her cry of grief was so piercing, so sorrowful, that it stilled the fury of battle; warriors on both sides laid down their arms at the sound of her lament.
Brighid was worshipped especially in Leinster, invoked by warriors in battle and by women in childbirth. Midwives called upon her for aid, for she was guardian of women and newborns. Her healing cloak could spread wide enough to cover all of Ireland in times of need. It was said that on her festival of Imbolc, she stretched her mantle across the land to usher in the change of seasons, turning winter toward spring.
On that day, the people wove solar crosses of equal-armed design to honor her, symbols of her power to turn the wheel of the year and the seasons. It was believed that the morning dew falling from her cloak carried healing. Rags or cloths left out to catch it became known as Brighid’s Mantle, and could be laid upon the sick to cure sore throats and other ailments.
Thus Brighid has long been honored as Goddess of fire and well, of poetry and healing, of childbirth and renewal. Whether seen as saint or goddess, her presence continues to kindle inspiration, spread healing, and guard the turning of the year.
Because the Morrígan was not known for nurturing, the infant Brighid was suckled by a white, otherworldly cow with red ears. She was raised in the Otherworld, tending an apple orchard whose bees flew freely between this world and the next. From her earliest years, Brighid loved learning, wisdom, and inspiration. In time she founded a school at Kildare, where she tended a sacred grove. There she trained her followers for thirty years: the first ten spent in study, the second in service, and the last in teaching. They learned to gather healing herbs, tend livestock, and forge iron into tools.
In her grove at Kildare stood an ancient oak, a healing well, and an everlasting flame. Nineteen women tended that flame, each keeping watch for a day, while on the twentieth day Brighid herself was said to guard it. She was known to reward any offering, and so began the custom of casting coins into wells in her honor. Brighid was patroness of poets and musicians, lighting the fire of inspiration in their hearts. Some tales say she was wed to Senchán Torpéist, the great poet who preserved the Táin Bó Cúailnge.
Many healing wonders are attributed to her. It is told that two lepers once came seeking her aid. She instructed them to bathe each other in her sacred well until they were healed. One obeyed, washing his companion until the sores vanished from his skin. But the man who was healed recoiled at the sight of the other’s illness and refused to touch him. When Brighid learned of this, she struck him again with leprosy, while the faithful one she wrapped in her mantle — and instantly he was made whole.
Brighid is also said to have consorted with Breas, the handsome but unjust king whose misrule brought on the Second Battle of Moytura. Their son, Ruadán, was taught by his mother’s kin, yet fought for his father’s Fomorian people. He sought to kill his uncle, Gobniu the Smith, but Gobniu struck back and Ruadán fell. At the death of her son, Brighid lifted her voice in the first keening. Her cry of grief was so piercing, so sorrowful, that it stilled the fury of battle; warriors on both sides laid down their arms at the sound of her lament.
Brighid was worshipped especially in Leinster, invoked by warriors in battle and by women in childbirth. Midwives called upon her for aid, for she was guardian of women and newborns. Her healing cloak could spread wide enough to cover all of Ireland in times of need. It was said that on her festival of Imbolc, she stretched her mantle across the land to usher in the change of seasons, turning winter toward spring.
On that day, the people wove solar crosses of equal-armed design to honor her, symbols of her power to turn the wheel of the year and the seasons. It was believed that the morning dew falling from her cloak carried healing. Rags or cloths left out to catch it became known as Brighid’s Mantle, and could be laid upon the sick to cure sore throats and other ailments.
Thus Brighid has long been honored as Goddess of fire and well, of poetry and healing, of childbirth and renewal. Whether seen as saint or goddess, her presence continues to kindle inspiration, spread healing, and guard the turning of the year.
ST. BRIGID'S CLOAK
Day Chapel Tapestry of the Church of the Annunciation, Clonard
The King of Leinster in those days was not known for his generosity, and Brighid often found it difficult to persuade him to support her many charities. One day, when he was being especially tight-fisted, Brighid said with a smile:
"Well then, at least grant me as much land as my cloak can cover."
Eager to be rid of her request, the king agreed. They were standing on the high ground of the Curragh, and Brighid directed four of her sisters to spread out her cloak. But instead of laying it flat, each woman turned to a different direction of the compass and began to run.
To the king’s astonishment, the cloak stretched and grew as they ran, widening and widening across the plain. Other holy women joined in, seizing the edges to keep it in shape, until the cloak covered nearly a mile of ground.
Alarmed, the king cried out:
"Oh, Brighid! What are you doing?"
She answered calmly:
"It is not I, but my cloak, covering your province—for your stinginess to the poor."
The frightened king quickly relented. “Call back your maidens,” he begged. “You shall have good land, and I will be more generous in the future.”
o Brighid drew back her sisters, and the cloak returned to its size. She received the promised acres, and from then on, whenever the king grew tight with his purse-strings, she needed only to mention her cloak’s marvelous power to soften his heart.
"Well then, at least grant me as much land as my cloak can cover."
Eager to be rid of her request, the king agreed. They were standing on the high ground of the Curragh, and Brighid directed four of her sisters to spread out her cloak. But instead of laying it flat, each woman turned to a different direction of the compass and began to run.
To the king’s astonishment, the cloak stretched and grew as they ran, widening and widening across the plain. Other holy women joined in, seizing the edges to keep it in shape, until the cloak covered nearly a mile of ground.
Alarmed, the king cried out:
"Oh, Brighid! What are you doing?"
She answered calmly:
"It is not I, but my cloak, covering your province—for your stinginess to the poor."
The frightened king quickly relented. “Call back your maidens,” he begged. “You shall have good land, and I will be more generous in the future.”
o Brighid drew back her sisters, and the cloak returned to its size. She received the promised acres, and from then on, whenever the king grew tight with his purse-strings, she needed only to mention her cloak’s marvelous power to soften his heart.
Story of St. Brigid
St. Brigid (1961)
Gift of Mrs. Gayle Edwards
Stain glass window in St. Mary Basilica
St. Brighid was born around AD 450 in Faughart, near Dundalk in County Louth. Her father, Dubhthach, was a pagan chieftain of Leinster, and her mother, Broicsech, was a Christian woman believed to have been born in Portugal. She was kidnapped by Irish pirates and brought to Ireland as a slave — a fate she shared with St. Patrick.
Though Dubhthach was a wealthy man, he kept both Brighid and her mother in bondage. The child was named for the great goddess Brighid, patroness of fire, poetry, and craft — the flame of knowledge in the old religion. From her earliest years she worked as a servant on her father’s farm, tending animals, cooking, cleaning, and keeping the household.
She lived during the days of St. Patrick and was deeply moved by his preaching. Inspired, Brighid embraced Christianity. By the age of eighteen, she left her father’s household, determined to live her life in service to God by caring for the poor, the sick, and the elderly.
Her father urged her to marry, but Brighid resisted. Legend says she prayed that her beauty would be taken away, so that no man would seek her hand. Her prayer was granted, and her beauty faded. Her generosity angered her father — especially when she gave away his jewel-encrusted sword to a leper. At last, he understood that she would never live as he wished, but was destined for religious life.
Brighid received the veil from St. Macaille and vowed her life to God. Once she had made her vows, her beauty returned — greater than ever before, a sign of divine blessing. News of her wisdom and compassion spread quickly, and soon many young women came from all over Ireland to join her.
Brighid founded convents across the land, the most famous in County Kildare, said to have been built beside a great oak tree. Around 470, she also established a double monastery there — for both nuns and monks. As Abbess, she wielded great authority with wisdom and prudence. The Abbey of Kildare grew into one of the most renowned religious houses in Ireland, respected throughout Christian Europe.
She also founded a school of art at Kildare, where St. Conleth oversaw metalwork, painting, and manuscript illumination. In the monastery’s scriptorium, the legendary Book of Kildare was created, a work so wondrous that Gerald of Wales, centuries later, claimed it was made by angelic hands.
Though Dubhthach was a wealthy man, he kept both Brighid and her mother in bondage. The child was named for the great goddess Brighid, patroness of fire, poetry, and craft — the flame of knowledge in the old religion. From her earliest years she worked as a servant on her father’s farm, tending animals, cooking, cleaning, and keeping the household.
She lived during the days of St. Patrick and was deeply moved by his preaching. Inspired, Brighid embraced Christianity. By the age of eighteen, she left her father’s household, determined to live her life in service to God by caring for the poor, the sick, and the elderly.
Her father urged her to marry, but Brighid resisted. Legend says she prayed that her beauty would be taken away, so that no man would seek her hand. Her prayer was granted, and her beauty faded. Her generosity angered her father — especially when she gave away his jewel-encrusted sword to a leper. At last, he understood that she would never live as he wished, but was destined for religious life.
Brighid received the veil from St. Macaille and vowed her life to God. Once she had made her vows, her beauty returned — greater than ever before, a sign of divine blessing. News of her wisdom and compassion spread quickly, and soon many young women came from all over Ireland to join her.
Brighid founded convents across the land, the most famous in County Kildare, said to have been built beside a great oak tree. Around 470, she also established a double monastery there — for both nuns and monks. As Abbess, she wielded great authority with wisdom and prudence. The Abbey of Kildare grew into one of the most renowned religious houses in Ireland, respected throughout Christian Europe.
She also founded a school of art at Kildare, where St. Conleth oversaw metalwork, painting, and manuscript illumination. In the monastery’s scriptorium, the legendary Book of Kildare was created, a work so wondrous that Gerald of Wales, centuries later, claimed it was made by angelic hands.
St. Brigid's Cross
St. Brigid of Kildare Stained Glass (photo by Fran McColman), St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, Macon, GA.
One of the oldest traditions in Ireland for welcoming the first stirrings of spring on February 1st, St. Brighid’s Day, is the weaving of her cross. The crosses are fashioned from green rushes, which are always pulled rather than cut. Once woven, they are hung above doorways or in the rafters to protect the home from fire and harm.
According to custom, a new cross is made each year, and the old one is burned in the hearth — the act itself believed to guard the house from fire. In many cottages, several crosses were kept in the ceiling, their older ones blackened by years of smoke and flame. For people whose roofs were thatched and walls built of wood, fire was an ever-present danger, and so Brighid’s cross became both blessing and protection.
Brighid and her cross are bound together through legend. It is told that she once came to the bedside of a dying pagan chieftain near Kildare. He was raving in delirium, and those around him feared he would die unbaptized. Brighid sat beside him on the rush-strewn floor and, as she spoke words of comfort, she began to weave the rushes into the shape of a cross.
The chieftain grew calm, watching her hands. “What is it you are making?” he asked. Brighid explained the meaning of the cross, and as she spoke, his mind cleared. With growing interest he asked questions, and at last his heart opened. There, on his deathbed, he accepted baptism, and the cross became a sign forever linked with Brighid’s presence.
St. Brighid passed from this world in AD 525, at the age of 75. She was buried before the High Altar of her Abbey in Kildare, though her remains were later moved to Downpatrick, to rest with St. Patrick and St. Columcille, the three great patrons of Ireland. Her skull was carried by Irish noblemen to Lisbon, Portugal, where it remains to this day.
Brighid is honored as the female patron saint of Ireland. She is called Muire na nGael — Mary of the Gael, Our Lady of the Irish. Her feast on February 1st marks the first day of Spring in Ireland, a time when new light and new life stir again in the land, and her woven cross still hangs in many homes as a sign of blessing, healing, and protection.
According to custom, a new cross is made each year, and the old one is burned in the hearth — the act itself believed to guard the house from fire. In many cottages, several crosses were kept in the ceiling, their older ones blackened by years of smoke and flame. For people whose roofs were thatched and walls built of wood, fire was an ever-present danger, and so Brighid’s cross became both blessing and protection.
Brighid and her cross are bound together through legend. It is told that she once came to the bedside of a dying pagan chieftain near Kildare. He was raving in delirium, and those around him feared he would die unbaptized. Brighid sat beside him on the rush-strewn floor and, as she spoke words of comfort, she began to weave the rushes into the shape of a cross.
The chieftain grew calm, watching her hands. “What is it you are making?” he asked. Brighid explained the meaning of the cross, and as she spoke, his mind cleared. With growing interest he asked questions, and at last his heart opened. There, on his deathbed, he accepted baptism, and the cross became a sign forever linked with Brighid’s presence.
St. Brighid passed from this world in AD 525, at the age of 75. She was buried before the High Altar of her Abbey in Kildare, though her remains were later moved to Downpatrick, to rest with St. Patrick and St. Columcille, the three great patrons of Ireland. Her skull was carried by Irish noblemen to Lisbon, Portugal, where it remains to this day.
Brighid is honored as the female patron saint of Ireland. She is called Muire na nGael — Mary of the Gael, Our Lady of the Irish. Her feast on February 1st marks the first day of Spring in Ireland, a time when new light and new life stir again in the land, and her woven cross still hangs in many homes as a sign of blessing, healing, and protection.
Brigid and the FoxThe worst had happened. A man, working in the woods, mistook the King of Leinster’s tame fox for a wild one and killed it. When the King learned of it, his grief was fierce. He had the man seized by his guards and thrown into prison. The man’s wife, brokenhearted, pleaded for mercy, insisting it had been a tragic mistake. But the King was unmoved. “One death must be answered by another,” he said, and decreed that the prisoner should die.
Friends of the family, knowing Brighid’s compassion, begged her to intercede. Though she honored the lives of animals, Brighid knew the King’s judgment was unjust. She set out for the royal court to plead for the man’s life. As she walked through the woodland, she prayed for guidance. And there — peering out from behind a tree — she spied a young fox, bright-eyed and curious. She called to it, and the little fox trotted gladly into her arms. In that moment, an idea came to her. Carrying the fox with her, she continued on to the King’s hall. The King, still mourning, refused to listen to her pleas. His heart was set on vengeance. Then Brighid played her last card. She set the fox down before him and coaxed it to perform little tricks. To the astonishment of the court, the fox obeyed her joyfully — leaping, tumbling, and playing just as the King’s beloved pet once had. Slowly the King’s anger softened, replaced by wonder. This fox, it seemed, had taken on every art and trick the old one had known. His heart, melted by the animal’s antics, turned toward mercy. He pardoned the prisoner, restoring him to his family. The King’s sorrow eased as he delighted in the new fox, and for a time he was content. But one day, the King rode out on business. While he was away, the fox slipped free and vanished back into the woods. The King’s men searched long, but the creature was never seen again. And so Brighid’s blessing brought life and mercy — for the man, his family, and even for the fox, who returned to freedom in the wild. |
Artwork by Wendy Andrews
Artwork by Wendy Andrews
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