Christ's Grace Made Sufficient in Weakness
Iceland's historical sagas evoke the same imagery of strength, hardiness and powerful influence as the earliest settlers possessed in order to thrive as a people. Yet, the man described in The Saga of Bishop Thorlak shows a different kind of strength than characterized by post-Viking Iceland. If one is inclined to read his Saga in terms of worldly achievements, Thorlak's story is good, though not especially remarkable alongside other stories of the saints. If one considers, however, the way he lived – meekly, lovingly, and faithfully, even as a perpetual outsider in a society built around approval by the majority – then we begin to understand Christ's power made perfect in the "Way of Saint Thorlak."
In twelfth century Iceland, winters were long and harsh, and summer crops sparse. Livestock provided wool and meat; timber was scarce. Fishing was more subsistence than industry. Families banded together to live and work on farmsteads near the coasts, combining resources and sharing in the success – or failure – of each growing and fishing season.
Society in medieval Iceland did not have the wealth to stratify classes as seen in other parts of Europe. In fact, Icelanders were among the earliest people to embrace governing by national assembly, the Althing, formed in the year 930. Wealth in Icelandic society was one's reputation and popular following. Those who spoke well, presented themselves powerfully and offered political favors became the chieftains – the social power brokers – in their regions.
Into this world was born a boy who was very different. His father was a good man who often became lost in his own thoughts, while his mother was industrious and practical. In his early years, this boy wandered about the farmstead and mingled with the other families there, astonishing them with the depth of the questions he asked and the ideas he shared about the world around him. Without any assistance, he taught himself to read – a rare skill for an Icelander of any age at this time. When he was seven, a scant fishing season left his family in desperate straits. Looking at all options, his mother left with him and two sisters for another farmstead. This was not a lateral move. This "other farmstead" happened to be a premier center of political power and education. His mother had connections with the chieftains there who heard of her son’s unusual intelligence. They gladly welcomed her and her daughters as tenants, adopting her wunderkind son, Thorlak, as their newest protégé.
Thus begins the story of the man we now know as Patron Saint of Iceland.
We might guess at this point how his life unfolded. We can see his impressive résumé: Ordained at the age of 18, sent abroad to study at the finest institutions, elected Abbot of Iceland’s first Augustinian monastery, elected bishop of Skalholt. He is described as a reformer and innovator who brought the Icelandic Catholic Church into conformity with canon law.
These facts make a logical case for his canonization in 1198 (and again, formally, in 1984) as Patron Saint of Iceland. But if we stop here, we miss the entire heart of Thorlak’s story - and we will find it baffling that a growing number of people in our time are hailing him as Patron Saint of… autistic people.