There will be no miracles here

St Bernard's Well

On Saturday we took an afternoon walk by Edinburgh’s Water of Leith, from Stockbridge to the Dean Art Gallery. A network of these walkways criss-crosses the city, accessed from the bustling city streets by steep stone stairways or narrow lanes. Just a few yards and you’ve left the crowds and the traffic behind. The only noise is the tumult of birdsong and the sound of the waters, in places flowing gently, in others crashing over weirs and cascading over rocks. The place is a popular haunt for walkers, cyclists, parents pushing prams, people exercising dogs, anyone who seeks a break from the city streets and a brief urban taste of the countryside. The only hazard is the occasional kamikaze cyclist!

An Ancient Well

All along your route, whichever path you take, there are excuses to pause, get your breath back and study something interesting. Our first halt was St Bernard’s Well, discovered, according to legend, by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, founder of the Cistercian Order, in the 12th Century. Afflicted with sickness, he went to live in a cave near the Water of Leith. He noticed birds drinking from a spring, followed their example and regained his strength. An unlikely health cure, but a charming legend. However, there must have been something in it, because in the late 18th century, the well became a popular place for ‘taking the waters.’ Thomas Nelson Publishers even bought the well at one point, so they must have considered it a canny acquisition! A Doric rotunda was added and a fetching marble statue of Hygieia, Goddess of Health was installed. Sadly, these days, Hygieia is decorative but redundant. People are more likely to sign up at the gym to get fit.

A Bold Statement

Our destination, Dean Gallery, housed in an imposing former Victorian orphanage, is surrounded by parkland. On our way up the path to the main entrance, we stopped short to look at an arresting installation on the wide lawn in front of the house, erected by 2007 Turner prize nominated artist Nathan Coley on a length of towering scaffolding. In letters a couple of feet high, we read the bold statement ‘THERE WILL BE NO MIRACLES HERE', words borrowed from a royal 17th century edict in the French village of Modseine, when its residents were fed up with sensation-seeking sightseers.

Framed against a 21st century Edinburgh cityscape, even the backdrop to the installation belied the message: glimpses of trees, the towers and turrets of ancient buildings and monuments, an historic well where many sought healing, the rich architectural heritage of Edinburgh with the Water of Leith flowing at its heart. Maybe no-one takes the waters from St Bernard’s Well any more, but there’s a sense in which every walker and pram pusher (yes, and even kamikaze cyclist) expresses the need for those miraculous, restorative waters to flow through their lives, the sense of being ‘led beside the still waters’ (Psalm 23) in the midst of the stresses and pressures we all cope with every day.

Gazing at Nathan Coley’s massive installation, I was impressed by the artistic statement, but unconvinced by the message. I thought of the miracle of more than £74 million, raised in recession hit Britain last Friday evening in response to a Comic Relief Gift Aid appeal; the miracle of the Japanese doctor I saw interviewed on TV, working 24 hours at a stretch on only a few handfuls of rice, to help relieve the unimaginable suffering of his people.

Yes, there ARE miracles here.

What's your take on miracles?