Over time, holy men and women built on their work, and the faith was further strengthened by medieval saints and monarchs who deepened ties with Rome and welcomed monastic orders, thereby establishing the Catholic roots that endure to this day.
However, things changed dramatically with the 1560 Reformation Parliament, during which Mass was prohibited, monasteries were dissolved, and pilgrimages banned. Priests were not allowed to be in the country, and parents were forbidden to pass on the Catholic faith to their children. An entire way of life that had once unified the nation was swept away almost overnight.
Although the 1829 Catholic Emancipation Act lifted legal restrictions on Catholics and brought an end to the persecution, Catholics to this day remain in the minority. Currently, about 13 % of Scots identify as Catholic, according to the most recent census data — yet only 1.7 % of the population attends Mass weekly.
Moreover, recent years have seen a decline in vocations, with some reports in the early 2000s indicating that the average age of priests in Scotland was over 60.
But today, things are looking up for the country’s Catholic heritage. Scotland’s two youngest priests stand as living witnesses to a Church that is not only alive, but young and full of promise. Their vocation tells a story, not of decline, but of renewal; not of desolation, but of hope.
With 555 priests serving 383 parishes across eight dioceses, Scotland’s clergy continue to carry the richness of tradition forward today.
Following the Good Examples of Scottish Priests
Father Aidan Matheson, 27, from the Diocese of Aberdeen, grew up in a Catholic home and told the Register that he never experienced much hostility as a child — but he was “aware of being a religious minority, of being different, and people would remind you.”
Looking back on Pope Benedict’s visit to Edinburgh in September 2010 — an event he was permitted to attend by special permission from his school — Father Matheson recalled:
“When I came back, one of my teachers asked me, ‘Why weren’t you at class last week?’ And I said, ‘Oh, I went to Edinburgh to see the Pope.’ And he said, ‘So you think that going to see a man is more important than coming to my class?’ And I said, ‘Yeah.’ I just took it. I was okay with being humiliated because I knew I had done the right thing.”
“None of my classmates were Catholic, but they were horrified that the teacher had exposed me in front of the class like that.” His parents, furious, reached out to the school, and a formal apology was offered, but Father Matheson said the event didn’t affect him deeply: “I felt like I was part of something bigger, and I wasn’t afraid to stand up and speak about it.”
For Father Christopher Furmage, 30, from the Diocese of Motherwell, his Catholic faith was a natural part of his childhood, strengthened by the many “social aspects” of his parish.
There were vibrant confraternities, plenty of altar servers, parish fundraisers — and most memorably, for him as a child, the “social club for kids” on Fridays: “Instead of hanging about the streets and anything like that, we would all go to the church and play games.”
He especially remembers “the priest being very involved in the parish and in the school” he attended, recalling: “He used to come in quite often, maybe once a week or so, and he would go around the classes and say ‘Hello,’ and most kids would know him by name.”
Reflecting on how his vocation was shaped, Father Furmage noted: “I was surrounded by good examples of what it was to follow the faith, to be involved in the parish and to serve the community.”
In a similar fashion, the idea of priesthood had come to Father Matheson when he was around 10 years old — a result of his profound admiration of his parish priest, whom he “really looked up to” for his deep faith and for “living the way he believed and preached.”
Father Matheson observed that his way of life “was fulfilling”: “I saw he was a happy man even though he was alone. He was very intelligent, articulate and funny, and I was impressed someone could live that way [and] also be a priest. It touched something very deeply inside me, and I remember thinking, ‘I wonder if that is what I am meant to do.’”
God Speaking and Calling
As a young adult, Father Furmage admitted having fallen away from the faith: “I worked as an IT engineer for one of the banks here; I had a house; I had lots of different things. I had all these things that society said would make me happy, and yet I never found that.”
“That pushed me back into my faith,” Father Furmage shared. “It was that clear calling from God saying, ‘You’re not happy because you’re lacking me; come and see me again.’”
One year, Father Furmage decided to join the parish with the Hosanna House and Children’s Pilgrimage Trust (HCPT), a United Kingdom-based charity whose staff and volunteers accompany disabled and disadvantaged children and adults on pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes.
During one particular week, when he met seminarians, “this idea of priesthood started floating in the back of [his] head,” and he began asking them many questions. And, upon returning home, he spoke more with his parish priest.
The questions all came from the same place, he said: “a deep yearning for something more.”
For Father Matheson, his faith came into sharper focus when he went on a retreat hosted by Dominican sisters in high school — an experience he described as a “epic, massive spiritual and philosophical journey” where he heard and discovered things he “had never heard before about the faith.”
“I realized that I had to go all in,” Father Matheson shared, “that there is not really any point in half measures in the faith, because either it’s all true or its not, and if it’s true, then it’s the most important thing there is. My eyes were opened and [I] realized fairly quickly that I was going to have to live my life with a different destination in mind.”
Following his gradual intellectual discovery of the faith, the idea of the priesthood resurfaced during a Catholic youth festival, seizing Father Matheson’s imagination and thoughts in an instant.
“God can reveal something to us sometimes in a way that leaves no doubt in our mind, and you just know it’s God,” Father Matheson explained. “ I was so aware that this idea had not come from me, because I found it deeply unsettling, and it was just so different from my own plans.”
Formed in the Eternal City
Fathers Matheson and Furmage both entered seminary in 2018, at ages 19 and 22, respectively. After a propaedeutic year in Spain, both moved to Rome, where they studied philosophy and theology at the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas and the Pontifical Gregorian University.
Both were instantly propelled into a very different life and environment.
“My sense was that there were no young people giving themselves to religious life, to vocations, to service of the priesthood or through orders,” Father Furmage admitted. “And yet here I was, in the heart of Rome, in a university with literally hundreds of people who were all studying for that purpose.”
Thinking back on his journey to seminary and the “gamble” it was, Father Furmage revealed: “Every day, I prayed, ‘Lord, if this isn’t for me, send me home; tell me to leave.’ And yet here we are.” He added: “I don’t regret taking that chance. I wish I had done it sooner.”
After their diaconal ordination in Rome, both returned to Scotland to serve in their dioceses. Father Matheson, however, is now back in Rome, focusing on a propaedeutic (preparatory) year for a baccalaureate in Gregorian chant. Describing living in Rome as “a continuous discovery of the beauty and treasures of the faith,” including sacred music, Father Matheson hopes that, once back in Scotland, he can “teach people and encourage the use of Gregorian chant in the local Church, in [his] diocese, and hopefully in Scotland.”
“I think people who love or listen to Gregorian chant would agree that it communicates something sublime,” he added. “And I firmly believe in its power to evangelize and to communicate the beauty of the faith and an experience of the divine.”
‘Responsibility for Souls’
“Serving in the diocese is one of the greatest privileges and joys that I think I’ll ever have,” Father Furmage, who now serves as an assistant priest, shared.
Amid serving Mass, hearing confession and celebrating baptisms, weddings and funerals, he explained that he finds particular joy in being able to lead by example in the way he was led: “I love being in the primary school, seeing all the kids and trying to encourage them to care about their faith and to strive to get a deeper understanding of their faith.”
So many young people, Father Matheson added, share the experience of living in “a secular world, seeing its increasing influence and power, and, having been disillusioned by it, realize that it’s not fulfilling, that fulfillment lies in loving and doing the will of God.”
Reflecting on faith in Scotland, Father Furmage noted that St. Andrew is a “shining beacon of hope of what it means to follow the Lord and to devote your life to him,” even in the face of challenges.
“St. Andrew shows us what it means to devote oneself to God, even in situations that don’t seem very promising,” Father Furmage explained. “When you think about it, he witnesses all these amazing things with the Lord, and yet at the Crucifixion, like the other disciples, he runs away in fear. And still, he becomes one of the greatest apostles and our patron saint.”
“I am aware of the challenges and the personal costs,” Father Matheson shared, reflecting on his return to Scotland, “but that is exciting because there is work to do, and God has appointed us to do it now for a reason — and not 200 years ago or before.”
Father Matheson explained that he is well aware of the state of the Catholic faith in his country, with “not many vocations, priests spread thinly across several parishes, and a secular, increasingly indifferent and hostile society,” in which he and his fellow priests will be “the very public faces of the Church.”
“The priesthood is sacrifice,” he shared, “so I know it’s not going to be easy.”
“Everyone knows that we represent the institutional Church, so there is a lot expected of us. So I am just aware of the weight of that responsibility for souls and for the good of the Church in my home country, which I love and want to embrace the faith that it once did.”