At Lier, in Belgium, the
departure from this life of St. Gummarus, confessor.
Well, golll-eee!
I’ll bet you thought ‘Gomer’
was one of those silly Southern names found only in Deliverance country. ‘T’aint so. Saint Gomer (Gummer, Gummarus, Gomar, Gommaire) lived in
Brabant (now Antwerp in modern Belgium) in the 8th century, and
unlike his namesake, was a highly intelligent and trusted court official.
[Speaking of Southern names,
there is also a Saint Elvis, and no, he didn’t live in Graceland, nor is there
any record of saintly pelvic gyrations]
Gomer was born around 717,
the scion of a wealthy and noble family related to Pepin the Short, Mayor of
the Palace of Neustrasia. His
education was that of a future knight and courtier rather than that of a future
cleric, but a thorough grounding in the practice of piety kept him from
succumbing to more worldly amusements.
As a young man, he was called to Pepin’s court, where his humility and
dutiful conduct raised him in the estimation of his superiors.
According to Alban Butler’s
Lives of the Saints: “The saint
preserved there his innocence: from a spirit of religion he was punctual and
faithful in every duty of his station, and an enemy to vanity, ambition, and
dissimulation, (which is almost the soul of a court life,) also to pleasure,
luxury and passion: he was rigorous in his fasts and other mortifications,
exact and fervent in all his exercises of devotion, and most beneficent and
liberal in works of mercy. It was
his study, as much as possible, never to give the least trouble or do the least
prejudice to any one, and to serve and do good, as much as lay in his power to
all men.”
[Gomer probably wasn’t as
dull as that sounds]
“Pepin, though tainted with
ambition, was a lover of uprightness and virtue: and being acquainted with the
probity and piety of Gummar, raised him to the highest posts in his court.” And here began Gomer’s
troubles. Among the many honors
was “a match between him and a lady of great birth and fortune named Gwinmary,
in Latin Grimnaria” [Grim for short; Lady Grim to her servants]. And grim their married life certainly
was, for “Gwinmary was most extravagant and perverse in her humour; haughty,
whimsical, and altogether ungovernable.”
Maybe she was bipolar. Maybe she was a shrew. Maybe she had anger management
issues. On the other hand, maybe
not. It can’t be too easy being
married to a saint. She might have
been a party-girl, while he, as “an enemy to pleasure, luxury, and passion”,
preferred his fasts and exercises of devotion, and expected his wife to join
him. She might have been pushing
for his further advancement (and her own – wives have their own hierarchy),
while he, as “an enemy to vanity, ambition, and dissimulation”, preferred to
leave the courtier’s life behind and retire to his own modest estates many
miles distant from court. Instead
of gaiety and brilliance and a high position as the wife of one of the top men,
she is reduced to the quiet life of a minor castle chatelaine. Maybe she felt cheated.
According to the story, she
made his life miserable, while he endeavored “by all means which Christian
prudence and charity could suggest, to inspire his wife with sentiments
agreeable to reason and religion.”
Whatever means he used, they
didn’t work. She was not so
inspired by the time he was called to join Pepin (now King of France) in
putting down rebellions and enlarging the kingdom. During his eight-year absence, she took out her frustrations
on her husband’s vassals and dependents, few of which escaped her unjust
oppressions, and “threw all things into the utmost disorder and confusion.”
As a just man, Gomer made
recompense for his wife’s actions where he could.
Eight years of separation
hadn’t mitigated her issues, whatever they were. Life went on as before, and I’m sure Gomer often thought
longingly of happy days battling Lombards, Saxons, and Aquitainians. To get away from the constant harangue,
he built what might be considered one of the first Man Caves – a little chapel
called Nivesdonck, where he could practice his devotions in peace.
For a time it seemed that his
patience and virtue had converted his wife, but it didn’t last “and her furious
passions, which were only smothered for a time, not healed, broke out again
with greater rage than ever.” In
his late 50’s, Gomer embraced a solitary penitential life (with his wife’s
permission) and lived for the next nine years in a little cell attached to his
chapel. His perseverance seems
finally to have overcome his wife’s contumacious behavior (either that or she
was no longer subject to PMS), and she ended her days as “a remarkable
penitent.” He died in 774; there
is no mention of when she departed this earthly sphere.
As you might guess, he is a
patron of unhappy and difficult marriages, and of marital separations.
His legend relates that on
one of his travels, he cut down a tree to serve as a pillow (saints have odd
ideas of comfort), which made the owner of the tree very unhappy (saints also
have odd ideas of ownership).
Gomer replanted the tree and reattached the trimmed branches, and the
tree’s owner was happy again. This
is said to be the reason he is the patron of woodcutters (hopefully of
woodcutters who don’t cut down other people’s trees).
His magnificent shrine at
Lier claimed miraculous cures for sufferers from hernia, and many have flocked
there to invoke his aid.
“As God does everything for
his elect, and the government of the universe is subordinate to the
predestination of his saints, so this affair, which seemed unhappy in the eyes
of the world was directed by Him to perfect the virtue of His servant, and
exalt him to the glory of the saints.”
Gomer certainly put it on
the paten.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Artwork: Holy Card of Saint
Gommaar, swiped from Wikipedia. You can see the replaced tree in the background; the spring of water at the saint's feet was miraculously provided for the estate fieldworkers when Lady Grim refused them any liquid refreshment after their labors.
