MYSTIC, Conn. - There are too few opportunities in life to see the severed limb of a medieval holy man, and so when one presents itself in as unlikely a place as southeast Connecticut, it should be grasped with haste.
Thank goodness, then, for St. Edmund's Retreat on a tiny island near Mystic, a tranquil and serene spot run by a Catholic order and home to one of the most distinctive items in Connecticut's vast jumble of oddities: the arm of the 13th-century archbishop of Canterbury who gives his name to the property.
There's much more to St. Edmund's, accessible via a narrow causeway to Enders Island, of course, but for the seeker of the unusual all those pleasures will reveal themselves only after the marquee item has been contemplated: a withered, bony arm, the soft tissue tinted greenish black with age, resting on a pillow and jutting out from a red clerical sleeve.
Which is an excellent opportunity to ask: How on Earth did the severed arm of an English cleric who died in France in 1240 make its way to a spot a few miles from the crowded shops of downtown Mystic?
Let's start with the man himself. Edmund Rich was born sometime around 1175 in the English town of Abingdon. He became something of an academic pioneer, attending both Oxford and the University of Paris, and is credited with being among the first (if not the first) instructors at the former institution to teach Aristotle there. Today, colleges at both Oxford and Cambridge are named for him.
Like most academics in the 13th century, Edmund entered the clergy, and in 1234 he was elected Archbishop of Canterbury, the highest position in the English Catholic Church. He was frequently in conflict with both Pope Gregory IX and King Henry III, which must not have been a comfortable position in the 1230s. Frustrated by his constant conflicts with the heavies of his day, Edmund retired to Pontigny Abbey in France, where he died soon after.
"During his life he was known as a powerful preacher, a gentle, kind leader and a particularly austere and learned priest," note the archives of Saint Michael's College in Vermont. He was canonized in 1246 over the objections of Henry III, and miracles were reported at his tomb in France.
Edmund's tomb became a pilgrimage site and a reliquary, meaning it was a place where his body and clothing were preserved for the benefit of pilgrims. The veneration of saints' bones, or relics, appears in Christianity as early as the middle of the 2nd century, and it has remained an important part of Catholic and Orthodox devotion ever since.
It was common, and remains so, for chips of bone, known as "first-class relics," to be distributed to churches around the world. Articles of clothing are called "second-class relics," and something that has touched a first- or second-class relic becomes a third-class relic. Usually it's a piece of cloth; they can be found for sale in many Catholic bookshops.
So the bones of holy men and women were important parts of the spiritual economy of Christianity, and since not everyone could get to Pontigny, Edmund was separated from some of his relics: That is, someone cut off his arm. The archivists at St. Michael's don't know exactly when it happened, but by the middle of the 19th century, when a new religious order dedicated to the saint appeared, the arm had been detached for "many centuries."
That order, the Society of the Fathers and Brothers of St. Edmund, was founded by the Rev. Jean Baptiste Muard and took special responsibility for preserving the saint's relics. Expelled from France in 1903 during a period of government anticlericalism, the society established itself in England and the Northeastern U.S. In 1954, they brought St. Edmund's arm to Vermont, first at St. Michael's and then in nearby Swanton. In 2002, the Edmundites opened a new chapel on the 11-acre island where they had been conducting retreats, and the arm made its way to the shores of Connecticut.
Located in the beautiful Chapel of Our Lady of the Assumption, the arm rests under a glass case on top of a display of other first-class relics of St. Edmund, which are of the less-dramatic kind more commonly encountered: tiny fragments of bone set in ornate frames.
The retreat itself includes the chapel, meeting halls, a mansion that belonged to the Hartford physician who owned the island before the Edmundites, and other buildings. The grounds are scattered with striking examples of religious art, ranging in style from Byzantine to Expressionist, and the little island, connected to nearby Mason's Island by a narrow causeway, seems to be a popular spot for locals to just come and relax: On a recent visit there, I spotted several people eating lunch, walking the grounds, or napping in their cars.
The island itself feels pleasantly unworldly, especially if you've just arrived after crawling through tourist season traffic in Mystic: quiet and beautiful, the sense of serenity is so complete that even the gift shop operates on the honors system, as if the ringing of a cash register would disturb the setting somehow.
The retreat "is one of the few places in New England where you can awake to the sounds of seabirds calling, waves lapping, and a Mass bell pealing," as the society says on its website. Along with retreats, the St. Michael Institute of Sacred Art, located on the island, offers workshops that teach everything from manuscript illumination to Gregorian chant. Although definitely a Catholic operation, the island and its programs are open to everyone.
Connecticut has other notable relics; The Rev. Michael McGivney, founder of the Knights of Columbus, is not yet officially a saint, but his body is kept at St. Mary's Church in New Haven, where some of his clothing is venerated by pilgrims as the petition for his sainthood makes its way through Rome. But there's nothing quite like coming face to face with the physical remains of a man who lived 800 years ago to inspire reflection on higher things.
Enders Island is easily accessible by car; drivers with GPS units should punch in "99 Yacht Club Road" in Mystic. Parking is free, and some of the buildings are handicap-accessible. Mass is held daily and the Blessed Sacrament is reserved for veneration in the chapel 24 hours a day. If you do go, though, remember that it's a place of worship and quiet contemplation rather than a cabinet of curiosities.