The Scottish Reformation of 1560 was a seismic event. When Scotland formally broke with the Church of Rome, the religious landscape of the nation was transformed almost overnight. But there was a physical cost too. Across the country, medieval cathedrals, abbeys, and monastic churches that had stood for centuries were stripped, vandalised, or simply pulled down by reformers fired with religious zeal against the "idolatry" of the Catholic Church.
Yet remarkably, two great medieval cathedrals survived. Glasgow Cathedral on the mainland and St Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall, Orkney, remain standing today—largely intact—as the only two Scottish medieval cathedrals to escape wholesale destruction. This is the story of how they were saved, and the reasons why.
To understand what makes Glasgow and Kirkwall so special, we must first understand what was lost elsewhere.
Before the Reformation, Scotland was home to a network of magnificent Catholic cathedrals: St Andrews, Perth, Elgin, Aberdeen, Dunkeld, Dunblane, Brechin, and others. Each was a centre of diocesan life, filled with altars, statues, relics, and richly decorated furnishings that embodied the Catholic faith .
When the Reformation Parliament abolished the authority of the Pope and forbade the celebration of the Catholic Mass, these buildings became symbols of the old order. To the more zealous reformers, they were monuments to what they saw as superstition and idolatry—places where prayers had been offered to saints, where masses had been said for the dead, and where elaborate rituals had distracted from the pure word of God .
The result was devastating. At St Andrews, Scotland's ecclesiastical capital, the great cathedral—once the largest church in Scotland—was stripped and left to fall into ruin. At Elgin, the majestic "Lantern of the North" was roofless and decaying. At Aberdeen, the cathedral of St Machar was vandalised, though its nave survived in truncated form. Abbey churches like Melrose, Jedburgh, and Dunfermline suffered similar fates. The reformers' zeal, combined with popular fury against the old church, left a trail of destruction across the land .
But two cathedrals escaped this fate. Why?
Glasgow Cathedral, dedicated to St Kentigern (or St Mungo), had been a pilgrimage destination for centuries. Built between the 12th and 15th centuries over the supposed burial place of the saint, it was already ancient when the Reformation arrived .
At the Reformation, the cathedral was "disfurnished"—its altars, statues, and Catholic furnishings were removed, and its lead roof was reportedly stripped . But the building itself was not destroyed. The critical moment came later.
In 1579, nearly two decades after the Reformation Parliament, the survival of Glasgow Cathedral hung by a thread. According to historical accounts, the magistrates of Glasgow granted a warrant for the final destruction of the High Church. Hundreds of workmen were gathered, ready to begin the demolition .
But the people of Glasgow had other ideas. The Incorporated Trades of the city—the craftsmen and guilds—assembled in defence of their cathedral. They rang the common bell, gathered the town guard with drumbeats, and threatened death to the first person who dared to remove a single stone . As one 19th-century account records:
"The Crafts assembled, and threatened with death the first that should begin the demolition;—To them therefore, are we indebted for the preservation of this venerable structure, now the most perfect of the kind in the kingdom" .
Walter Scott, in his novel Rob Roy, captures this same tradition through the voice of his character Andrew Fairservice, who explains that the Glasgow townspeople "offered downright battle to the commons, rather than their kirk should coup the crans as others had done elsewhere" .
The craftsmen of Glasgow saved their cathedral not because they were crypto-Catholics, but because it was their church—the building where they worshipped, where their ancestors were buried, and which stood at the heart of their city. Their courage, and their willingness to risk their lives, ensured that Glasgow Cathedral remains today the most complete medieval cathedral on the Scottish mainland .
On the other side of the country, in the Orkney Isles, St Magnus Cathedral had its own narrow escape.
Founded in 1137 by Earl Rognvald Kali Kolsson to house the relics of his martyred uncle, St Magnus Erlendsson, the cathedral was a product of the Norse earldom. Built from red and yellow sandstone in a distinctive Romanesque style, it dominated the skyline of Kirkwall—as it still does today .
When the Reformation reached Orkney, the cathedral was stripped of its Catholic furnishings like its counterparts elsewhere. But the building itself survived. Several factors explain why.
First, there was geography. Orkney's remote location, far from the main centres of reformist zeal in the Scottish Lowlands, meant that the cathedral was less exposed to the "iconoclastic ravages of the reformers" . The islands had only been formally absorbed into Scotland in 1468, and their Norse traditions remained strong. The fiery preachers who led the destruction elsewhere did not find such ready audiences in the Northern Isles.
Second, there was a dramatic intervention. In 1614, a rebellion led by Robert Stewart, son of the Earl of Orkney, brought government forces to Kirkwall. After besieging and destroying Kirkwall Castle, the forces intended to demolish St Magnus Cathedral as well—particularly because rebels had hidden inside it during the fighting .
At this critical moment, Bishop James Law intervened. He pleaded with the government commanders to spare the cathedral, and his plea was successful. The building was saved . One 19th-century account notes that the cathedral was "fortunately saved... from the blind and wanton fury of the Earl of Caithness, who after quelling with difficulty an insurrection in Orkney... wished to crown his triumph by demolishing the cathedral church" .
Like Glasgow, St Magnus was not preserved out of sympathy for Catholicism, but because local people—and in this case a bishop—valued it as their church. It had also, since 1468, been owned not by the Church but by the burgh of Kirkwall itself, a unique arrangement that may have given the townspeople a greater sense of proprietary interest in its survival .
The destruction of Scotland's cathedrals was not merely an accident of history or a fit of mindless vandalism. It was a deliberate act of religious policy, driven by the conviction that the Catholic Church had corrupted true Christianity.
The reformers believed that the elaborate rituals, the veneration of saints, the prayers for the dead, and the central role of the Mass were all contrary to Scripture. As the Glasgow Cathedral website explains, the Reformation led to "radical resetting" from "human merit to grace of God, seeing to hearing, altar to pulpit, sacrament to preaching... prayer invoking Mary and the saints as intercessors to prayer directly addressing the Deity only" .
This theological revolution had physical consequences. The destruction of altars, statues, and relics was not vandalism for its own sake—it was an attempt to purge the church of what was seen as idolatry. Archbishop Spottiswood, the first Protestant archbishop of Glasgow, recorded that in 1579 the people were very nearly on the point of destroying the whole edifice . The craftsmen who saved Glasgow Cathedral were not defending Catholicism; they were defending their city's heritage against a wave of destruction that had already consumed so much else.
In this context, the survival of Glasgow and Kirkwall cathedrals is all the more remarkable. They are not just buildings; they are witnesses to a turbulent history, saved by the courage of ordinary people who refused to see their churches torn down.
Today, both cathedrals remain in use as places of worship—though now as part of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland, not the Catholic Church for which they were built . Glasgow Cathedral is the only mainland Scottish medieval cathedral to survive the Reformation almost intact . St Magnus Cathedral is the only wholly medieval Scottish cathedral, and one of the best-preserved buildings of its era in Britain .
The 19th-century writer Daniel Gorrie captured their shared distinction beautifully:
"This noble old edifice [St Magnus] shares the distinction with St Mungo's in Glasgow, of being still entire, with the exception of the tower... The secluded situation of St. Magnus preserved the building from the iconoclastic ravages of the reformers" .
For the visitor to either cathedral today, the experience is not just architectural appreciation. It is an encounter with living history—with the faith of medieval Catholics who built these soaring spaces, with the fury of reformers who sought to tear them down, and with the courage of those who stood in the way and said: this shall not fall.
When you stand in the nave of Glasgow Cathedral, or gaze up at the red sandstone tower of St Magnus in Kirkwall, you are standing in one of the only two places in Scotland where the full medieval cathedral experience can still be felt. They are monuments not only to God, but to the people who saved them.