Chances are that, if you've heard of Glastonbury, England, you've heard something of the legend of the Glastonbury Thorn — and how the bush is associated with Joseph of Arimathea, the Jewish leader who loaned his tomb for the burial of Jesus.

Well, if you come to Glaston-bury, a small town in the western county of Somerset, you can see the arboreal attraction for yourself — and learn all about its intriguing origins. More on that later, for there's more to Glastonbury than just the famous species of shrub that flowers just for Christmas and springtime.

Upon arriving, you'll first want to head for the Shrine of Our Lady. This you will find in the small Catholic church on the main street, almost opposite the ruins of the magnificently medieval Glaston-bury Abbey. As soon as you enter, you will see a lovely statue of the Blessed Mother standing above the main altar and surrounded on either side by a splendid tapestry. This tells you, if you look closely enough, the story of Glastonbury and explains just why this place is so sacred. At the back of the church you will find cards with the beautiful Glaston-bury Prayer. Do take one and join the many pilgrims who have come here over the years and begged Our Lady's intercession in this hallowed place.

Glastonbury is dear and familiar to me. I have visited it in every season — seen the famous ruins of the abbey decked with snow, glowing mellow in summer sunshine and drenched by autumn rain. As a Londoner, I have brought pilgrims here by coach, a cheerful crowd of us, praying the rosary as we hurried down the motorway. (The journey takes about two hours; you pass Stonehenge on the way.) I have also come here on private visits, as we have family nearby, and dropped in for a quiet prayer.

Now, about that legend. To understand the story properly, you must open your New Testament and read how, after the Crucifixion, Jesus’ body was laid in a tomb offered by Joseph of Arimathea, one of the Jewish leaders. From this tomb, our Savior rose gloriously from the dead, showed himself to his apostles and, in due course, sent them out to bring the Gospel to the whole world.

For ages, people in this corner of Britain have believed that Joseph of Arimathea came here. This was a port in Roman times — remains of a Roman jetty were in fact found here not long ago — and the whole of this stretch of the western coast of Britain was a place where tin was mined and sold to passing traders. For hundreds of years, the local tin miners used to say that Joseph was “in the trade.” By this they meant that Joseph of Arimathea was a tin merchant, taking the metal back to sell in his native Palestine.

And why not? What more natural thing than that he should see the risen Jesus, believe and flee the persecution that faced the early Church? And what would have stopped him from joining with a band of like-minded new Christians in bringing the Gospel message to distant Roman shores?

From Time Immemorial

As for the legend, it goes this way: Upon landing in Glastonbury, tired from the long journey, Joseph pushed his walking stick — the branch of a hawthorn tree — into the ground. Then he lay down to rest and fell asleep. When he woke up, he saw that the staff had taken root, grown and begun to blossom. There he left it and there it and its descendants have flowered every Christmas and Easter ever since.

Certainly, the thorn bush that thrives to this day on Weary-All Hill (where the Roman jetty was found) is of a type native not to Britain but to the Holy Land. The people of Glastonbury are proud of the thorn. That's why they ceremonially cut a tiny sprig from it each year and send it to the Queen in London for Christmas.

Whatever the truth of the Arimathea tale, it was believed by the monks who built the great abbey here, centered on a tiny wattle church dedicated to Our Lady — the origins of which are so ancient that medieval documents simply refer to it as having stood “from time immemorial.”

The abbey thrived for centuries. Here, in the early Middle Ages, during excavations following a fire, monks claimed to find the tomb of Britain's “once and future king” — Arthur, along with Queen Guinevere. You will find the place marked to this day among the abbey ruins.

Ruins? Yes, alas, of course, because the abbey was ransacked by government agents during the reign of Henry VIII, who, seeking to divorce his wife and marry his mistress, announced himself as head of the Church of England. So began the tragic break with Rome that was to seal the fate of the Catholic faith in Britain for the next 400 years. The last abbot of Glastonbury, the heroic and saintly Richard Whiting — one of the canonized Forty Martyrs of England and Wales — was dragged to the top of Glastonbury tor. There he was hung, drawn and quartered within sight of the abbey where he had worked and prayed.

Prayers on the Breeze

The tor is a strange hill that stands up from the surrounding lowlying water meadows. This was all marshland for centuries, which is why it is not absurd to imagine Joseph of Arimathea and his companions arriving by boat. When you visit Glastonbury, you simply must walk up the tor and pray at St. Michael's Tower on top. Invoke the intercession of St. Richard Whiting and his hero-companions as you go. Your voice might have to battle against the wind, but there are few finer places in which to sense the presence of God and see the beauty of his creation as the meadows stretch out beneath you.

Go at sunset, as we love to do, walking up as the sun slips down in a glory of gold into the English landscape. Know that this is a land that has known the faith for nearly all 2,000 years of Christian history.

There is more. At the foot of the tor is the Chalice Well where, it is said, Joseph of Arimathea buried the Holy Grail, the very cup that Our Lord used at the Last Supper. The water here — tumbling and sparkling out of the hillside by the gallon — has never run dry in recorded history and is said to have healing properties. The very name of the soil, chalybeate, and its reddish color speak of the sacred chalice and its precious contents.

End your visit at the shrine again. This little church dates only from the 1940s but was built lovingly by Catholics yearning to see the faith restored in this ancient place. This is now a thriving parish as well as a place where pilgrims come.

Joanna Bogle writes from London.