Terps, borgs and the pink granite coast: Relics and miracles

On the feast of St John the Baptist, we were extraordinarily lucky to see a Pardon taking place in the village of St John du Doigt, just a stone's throw from our summer home.

A 'Pardon' in Brittany, is a bit like a grand confession, followed by an even grander procession. And today, as in the Middle Ages, these are the biggest religious festivals of the year. Pilgrims gather from early morning till the last prayer is uttered, praying long and hard for indulgences to be granted by the saint whose feast it is.

This village takes its name from the saint's relic kept in the parish church. This particular relic in this particular village is the right index finger of St John the Baptist. Voila, the village is called St Jean's finger, or St Jean du Doigt.

Mind you, this is not the only church in the world claiming to have the right index finger of St John the Baptist as its church relic. There are others. Nonetheless, the Pardon continues in this village, year after year, regardless of this anomaly.

St Jean's finger came to this village quite miraculously. Actually, many of the stories to do with this finger abound in miracles.

After devoting his prayers to St Jean's finger almost to the point of exclusivity, a young medieval knight returned home to France after his crusade only to find as he neared his destination that the object of his adoration had miraculously attached itself to his person, lodging beneath his wrist cloths.

Not a finger of blame was thought to be apportioned. This was immediately deemed a miracle.

The finger relic found a home. Pilgrims came, miracles happened, its fame spread like wildfire. And over time, the finger became famous far and wide for healing eye afflictions.

The English, at the time of Henry V11, even attempted to steal the famous finger, only to have it time and again be found returned to its niche in the village church. Unmoved and unmovable.

Anne de Bretagne, hearing of its amazing powers, sent for the finger to heal an eye problem she was having. Her henchmen, though, were thwarted every time they attempted to move it further than the church door. From there, it simply flew from their grasp, returning itself back to its rightful abode.

Duchess Anne quickly deduced from this that if she wished to be healed she would need to be the one to make the move. This she did, taking herself on a pilgrimage to St Jean du Doigt, and, on finding a cure thanks to the finger, showered many gifts on the church and its parish in gratitude.

St Jean du Doigt's Pardon is a Pardon of Fire. After mass, hymns and prayers, the pilgrims and participants gather high on the hill overlooking the village on one side and the bay on the other. Here, they light a massive bonfire that acts like a beacon far out to sea. These last few years we have seen St Jean feast day bonfires on hills as far south as Portugal.

A procession follows, winding down to the pretty enclos paroissial in the valley below. Followers carry gilded crosses and colourful banners with decorative insignia. Taking pride of place in the middle of the cluster is the relic of St Jean's finger in its precious glass casket.

Several of the stronger members of the crowd carry a large ship, accompanied by heartfelt prayers seeking to avoid shipwrecks along this dangerous coast. Statues, candles, smaller relics and other intercessions follow step by step down the hill to the church. Many of the celebrants are wearing traditional Breton festival gear. There are ladies in lovely lace bonnets aplenty.

Inside the church as the followers congregate, a queue forms down the aisle of the nave ready to receive the very special blessing so many have specifically come for. A priest carefully takes the ancient relic of St Jean from its place of repose and gently touches it to the eye of each pilgrim needing relief. He stays, offering the cure, as long as his blessing is needed. On, into the night, if necessary.

Outside, after the Pardon, the village streets, inn and bar are beginning to fill with those who have a reason to celebrate. The night is still young when we head for home.

Contemplating: that this has been happening in this village for over 600 years. Year after year after year.