The Saint, while a shepherd |
Anyway, the good King and Queen asked the local bishop to tutor their son. Wendelin was so inspired by the Bishop's lessons that he slipped out the door in the middle of the night and never went home again. He took off for religious shrines all over Europe, eventually winding up in Rome where he had an audience with the Pope. He asked what the right thing to do was; not surprisingly, the Pope told him to pursue a religious life.
He wandered as a monk, living off hand-outs. In Germany, a wealthy bandit scolded him for being a young healthy man who chose to beg rather than work. He invited Wendelin to work for him as a swineherd. Tough work, tending the pigs. They scramble, and they're tough to catch, even if no one has greased them. Wendelin asked to be transferred to something that would give him a little more time to pray.
The Sarcophagus -- note the sheep by the sculpture's head |
Again the Lord would lend a hand, levitating the flocks and sending them to distant pastures where they could find better food more easily. This gave Wendelin time to pray, which satisfied everyone until one time the boss spotted his shepherd and sheep a long way from home. He cursed him out, saying he'd never make it home by dark, and the boss had guests coming for whom he wanted to slaughter and roast a lamb. Wendelin promised to be home in time, but the boss noted that he -- on horseback -- was cutting it close; how could a shepherd drive sheep the same distance in as little time? When he got home, of course, Wendelin was guiding the sheep into the fold.
The Saint -- when the sarcophagus was opened. |
He had some miracle cures, stopping a livestock plague at one point, and eventually died. On his deathbed, he confessed all his sins to his friend Bishop Severinus, including the fact that he was the Crown Prince of Scotland who ditched his parents and never went back. When they buried his coffin, the brothers were surprised to see it back in the chapel the next day. It happened again, so they buried it again. After three auto-exhumations, they put it on an ox-cart and let the oxen take it where they chose. They went straight to the rude hut, where a chapel was built for his relics. Later, they were moved to a much grander spot with that serious sarcophagus that you see pictured.
I learned something about my name today thanks to this article. When biking through the Schwabische Alb several years ago, I happened upon a small chapel in a field where shepherds tended their flocks. It was dedicated to St. Wendelin. I always wanted to know more about him and now I do thanks to you.
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