I thought I had dispelled the myth that Highland evangelicalism had destroyed Highland culture. I thought that my several forays into 19th century historiography had demonstrated conclusively that whatever else could be laid to the charge of the ministers and men of the north in that period, it was not the case that they were out to destroy the culture.
How disappointing, therefore, to see the myth resurrected in one of the latest – and most interesting – books on St. Kilda, published recently by Acair. Calum Ferguson's St. Kildan Heritage is a moving and poignant collection of Gaelic songs and comp
ositions from St Kilda, together with commentary and photographs which capture the ethos of a remarkable community.
Yet as early as the foreword the author resurrects the myth. 'There was a time', he says, 'when St Kildans shared with the rest of the Highlands and Islands the love of instrumental and vocal music and bardachd. Alas, in the last three or four generations in Hiort, the oppressive brand of Calvinism introduced by the Rev MacDonald of Ferintosh (the Apostle of the North) in the 1820s, 30s and 40s, killed off the desire to compose songs or poetry'.
But of course. How could we not have known that? It was not Calvinism that MacDonald brought to St Kilda, but a particular brand of it. Unfortunately it was an oppressive brand; did we not realise that there is a direct link between MacDonald's killing of the culture and the eventual evacuation?
I want to insist that modern historiography, so intolerant of the Highland evangelical revivals of the nineteenth century, and so inhospitable to the Apostle of the North in particular, has failed to appreciate the motives and results of MacDonald's itinerant ministry. In particular, it has failed to appreciate the real reasons for his travels to St Kilda, and deliberately plays down the attitude of the islanders to him.
Little that I write here will serve to dispel the myth. John MacDonald was a remarkable man, whose frequent travels to preach the Gospel throughout Scotland have been variously compared to the travels of St. Paul, of George Whitefield and of John Wesley. He continues, however to be caricatured and pilloried as the man who interfered with St. Kildan culture in a way that led to its ultimate demise.
Historians tend to forget, however, that no movement ought to be defined by any of its representatives. Calvinism was never anti-culture, whatever attitudes to culture individual Calvinists may have cherished in the past. And if MacDonald's 'brand of Calvinism' was 'oppressive', what are we contrasting it with? What examples can be adduced for tolerant Calvinism?
There is something else; MacDonald may have been the first evangelical visitor to St Kilda, but he was certainly not the last. Since his first visit there in 1822 an evangelical succession followed him all the way up to the evacuation a century later. It is at least a workable thesis that MacDonald's reputation has suffered not so much through his own failings as through the failings of his successors as settled ministers of the island parish. MacDonald's was not the last ministry to have paid a price through the inadequacies of the men who came after.
Whatever the reality of the situation, one thing is clear. Destroying the culture was the last thing on MacDonald's mind when he made the hazardous journey through the Highlands, across to Harris, and then out into the Atlantic. That is evident from one of his best compositions, 'Turus an Ughdair do Eilean Hiorta' (the journey of the Author to St Kilda). That he wrote a Gaelic poem about it (which I discovered recently was being sung as a lullaby) is evidence that he was ready to employ cultural forms in the pursuit of his ministry.
The poem is a 77-stanza composition, which tells not only of his voyage, but of the reasons behind it. Like many other of his compositions, most of which are written as elegies to notable Highland ministers, the poem about St Kilda becomes a vehicle of theology.
MacDonald tells us, for example, that he often thought about the St Kildans on their remote archipelago. His primary concern for them was spiritual: he describes them as sheep without a shepherd, as a people in danger without anyone to point them to Christ. Their situation is not a result of their geographical isolation, but their common humanity with all who are compromised by Adam's fall and estrangement from God.
For this reason MacDonald is full of praise for the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge, under whose auspices he made the first journey to St Kilda. Their patronage gave him the encouragement he needed to visit St Kilda, motivated by concern for the spiritual condition of the people.
The poem weaves together the best of Calvinistic theology (nothing oppressive about it), with images and metaphors drawn from the physical topography of the island. He compares the sheer cliffs buffeted by the ocean yet standing firm with the church of Christ, at the mercy of many different kinds of storm, yet always standing on the sure and solid foundation of God's word.
According to the poet-preacher, MacDonald was warmly received on St Kilda. Joy at his presence to preach the Gospel spread like lightning, he says, and his preaching was much appreciated. He writes: 'before they had much understanding of the particular truths that were proclaimed to them, they showed diligence and willingness to grow in the knowledge of them'.
Like his other compositions, MacDonald's poem describing his visit to St Kilda draws on biblical metaphors and images. He never mentions the word 'Calvinism', yet the poem is suffused with it. He was a man on a mission – which missionary isn't? – but it was not to destroy culture. It was to proclaim the message of spiritual liberation and freedom in Christ.
To interpret MacDonald's ministry and its effects requires more than keeping alive the pretence that all he did was to rob the St Kildans of their cultural heritage. MacDonald's early years of Ossianic research demonstrate his interest in Highland culture. So too do the references in the literature to his fondness for playing the bagpipes and dancing in the Ferintosh manse.
None of this tarnishes his reputation as an evangelist. MacDonald's Calvinism was bigger than the historians are prepared to admit. The only reason for sullying it is not that there is a problem with MacDonald. But there is a problem when people will not submit to the worldview of the Bible, which is all that MacDonald wanted to make known.
The full article contains 1110 words and appears in n/a newspaper.
