by Lance Ralston | Nov 9, 2014 | English |
This 62nd episode of CS is the 5th and final in our look at monasticism in the Middle Ages.
To a lesser extent for the Dominicans but a bit more for the Franciscans, monastic orders were an attempt to bring reform to the Western Church which during the Middle Ages had fallen far from the Apostolic ideal. The institutional Church had become little more than one more political body, with vast tracts of land, a massive hierarchy, a complex bureaucracy, and had accumulated powerful allies and enemies across Europe. The clergy and older orders had degenerated into an illiterate fraternity. Many priests and monks could neither read nor write, and engaged in gross immorality while hiding behind their vows.
It wasn’t this case everywhere. But it was in enough places that Francis was compelled to use poverty as a means of reform. The Franciscans who followed after Francis were quickly absorbed back into the Church’s structure and the reforms Francis envisioned were still-born.
Dominic wanted to return to the days when literacy and scholarship were part and parcel of clerical life. The Dominicans carried on his vision, but when they became prime agents of the Inquisition, they failed to balance truth with grace.
Modern depictions of medieval monks often cast them in a stereo-typical role as either sinister agents of immorality, or bumbling fools with good hearts but soft heads. Sure there were some of each, but there were many thousands who were sincere followers of Jesus and did their best to represent Him.
There’s every reason to believe they lived quietly in monasteries and convents; prayed, read and engaged in humble manual labor throughout their lives. There were spiritual giants as well as thoroughly wicked and corrupt wretches.
After Augustine of Canterbury brought the Faith to England it was as though the sun had come out.
Another among God’s champions was Malachi, whose story was recounted by Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th C. Stories like his were one of the main attractions for medieval people who looked to the saints for reassurance some had managed to lead exemplary lives, and shown others how to.
The requirement of sanctity was easy to stereotype. In the Life of St Erkenwald, we read that he was “perfect in wisdom, modest in conversation, vigilant in prayer, chaste in body, dedicated to holy reading, rooted in charity.” By the late 11th C, it was even possible to hire a hagiographer, a writer of saintly-stories, such as Osbern of Canterbury, who would, for a fee, write a Life of a dead abbot or priest, in the hope he’d be canonized, that is – declared by the Church to be a saint.
There was strong motive to do this. Where there’d been a saint, a shrine sprang up, marking with a monument his/her monastery, house, bed, clothes and relics. All were much sought after as objects veneration. Pilgrimages were made to the saint’s shrine. Money dropped in the ubiquitous moneybox. But it wasn’t just a church or shrine that benefited. The entire town prospered. After all, pilgrims needed a place to stay, food to eat, souvenirs to take home proving they’d performed the pilgrimage and racked up spiritual points. Business boomed! So, hagiographers included a list of miracles the saint performed. These miracles were evidence of God’s approval. There was competition between towns to see their abbot or priest canonized because it meant pilgrims flocking to their city.
It was assumed that a holy man or woman left behind, in objects touched or places visited, a residual spiritual power, a ‘merit’, which the less pious could acquire for assistance in their own troubles by going on pilgrimage and praying at the shrine. A similar power inhered in the body of the saint, or in parts of the body; fingernails or hair, which could conveniently be kept in ‘relic-holders’ called reliquaries. People prayed near and touching them in the hope of a miracle, a healing, or help in some other urgent request of God.
The balance between the active and the contemplative life was the core issue for those who aspired to be a genuine follower of Jesus and a good example to others. They struggled with the question of how much time should be given to God and how much to work in the world? From the Middle Ages, there comes no account of the enlightened idea the secular and religious could be merged into one overall passion for and service of God.
In the medieval way of thinking, to be truly godly, a sequestered religious life was required. The idea that a blacksmith could worship God while working at his anvil was nowhere in sight. Francis came closest, but even he considered working for a wage and the call to glorify God mutually exclusive. Francis urged work as part of the monk’s life, but depended on charity for support. It wouldn’t be till the Reformation that the idea of vocation liberated the sanctity of work.
Because the cloistered, or sequestered religious life, was regarded as the only way to please God, many of the greats from the 4th C on supported monasticism. I list now some names who held this view, trusting if you’ve listened to the podcast for a while you’ll recognize them . . .
St. Anthony of Egypt, Athanasius, Basil, Gregory of Nyssa, Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, and Benedict of Nursia.
In the Middle Ages the list is just as imposing. Anselm, Albertus Magnus, Bonaventura, Thomas Aquinas, and Duns Scotus, St. Bernard and Hugo de St. Victor, Eckart, Tauler, Hildegard, Joachim of Flore, Adam de St. Victor, Anthony of Padua, Bernardino of Siena, Berthold of Regensburg, Savonarola, and of course, Francis and Dominic.
The Middle Ages were a favorable period for the development of monastic communities. The religious, political and economic forces at work across Europe conspired to make monastic life for both men and women a viable, even preferred, option. As is so often the case in movies and books depicting this period, sure there were some young men and women who balked at entering a monastery or convent when forced by parents, but there were far more who wanted to engage the sequestered life who were denied by parents. When war decimated the male population and women outnumbered men by large margins, becoming a nun was the only way to survive. Young men who knew they weren’t cut out for the hard labor of farm life or military service could always find a place to pursue their passion for learning in a monastery.
As in most institutions, the fate of the brothers and sisters depended on the quality of their leader, the abbot or abbess. If she was a godly and effective leader, the convent thrived. If he was a tyrannical brute, the monastery shriveled.
In those monasteries where scholarship prevailed, ancient manuscripts were preserved by scribes who laboriously copied them, and by doing so, became well-versed in the classics. It was from these intellectual safe-houses the Renaissance would eventually emerge.
By drawing to themselves the best minds of the time, from the 10th well into the 13th C, monasteries were the nursery of piety and the centers of missionary and civilizing energy. When there was virtually no preaching taking place in churches, the monastic community preached powerful sermons by calling men’s thoughts away from war and bloodshed to brotherhood and religious devotion. The motto of some monks was, “by the plough and the cross.” In other words, they were determined to build the Kingdom of God on Earth by preaching the Gospel and transforming the world by honest and hard, humble work.
Monks were pioneers in the cultivation of the ground, and after the most scientific fashion then known, taught agriculture, the tending of vines and fish, the breeding of cattle, and the manufacture of wool. They built roads and some of the best buildings. In intellectual and artistic concerns, the convent was the main school of the times. It trained architects, painters, and sculptors. There the deep problems of theology and philosophy were studied; and when the universities arose, the convent furnished them with their first and most renowned teachers.
So popular was the monastic life that religion seemed to be in danger of running out into monkery and society of being little more than a collection of convents. The 4th Lateran Council tried to counter this tendency by forbidding the establishment of new orders. But no council was ever more ignorant of the immediate future. Innocent III was scarcely in his grave before the Dominicans and Franciscans received full papal sanction.
During the 11th and 12th Cs an important change came. All monks were ordained as priests. Before that time it was the exception for a monk to be a priest, which meant they weren’t allowed to offer the sacraments. Once they were priests, they could.
The monastic life was praised as the highest form of earthly existence. The convent was compared to The Promised Land and treated as the shortest and surest road to heaven. The secular life, even the life of the secular priest, was compared to Egypt. The passage to the cloister was called conversion, and monks were converts. They reached the Christian ideal.
The monastic life was likened to the life of the angels. Bernard said to his fellow monks, “Are you not already like the angels of God, having abstained from marriage.”
Even kings and princes desired to take the monastic vow and be clad in the monk’s habit. So even though Frederick II was a bitter foe of the Pope as he neared his death, he changed into the robes of a Cistercian monk. Rogers II and III of Sicily, along with William of Nevers all dressed up in monks robes as their end drew near. They thought doing so would mean a better chance at heaven. Spiritual camouflage to get past Peter.
Accounts from the time make miracles part and parcel of the monk’s daily life. He was surrounded by spirits. Visions and revelations occurred day and night. Devils roamed about at all hours in the cloistered halls. They were on evil errands to deceive the unwary and shake the faith of the careless. Elaborate accounts of these encounters are given by Peter the Venerable in his work on Miracles. He gives a detailed account of how these restless spiritual foes pulled the bedclothes off sleeping monks and, chuckling, left them across the cloister.
While monasteries and convents were a major part of life in Middle Age Europe, many of them bastions of piety and scholarship, others didn’t live up to that rep and became blockades to progress. As the years marched forward, the monastic ideal of holiness degenerated into a mere form that became superstitious and suspicious of anything new. So while some monasteries served as mid-wives to the Renaissance others were like Herod’s soldiers trying to slay it in its infancy.
As we end, I thought it good to do a brief review of what are called “the hours, the Divine Office or the breviary.” This was how monks and nuns divided their day.
The time for these divisions varied from place to place but generally it went like this.
In the early morning before dawn, a bell was rung that awakened the monks or nuns to a time of private reading and meditation. Then they all gathered for Nocturns, in which a psalm was read, there was chanting, then some lessons form Scripture or the Church Fathers.
After that they went back to bed for a bit, then got up at dawn for another service called Lauds. Lauds was followed by another period of personal reading and prayer, which resolved in the cloister again gathering for Prime at 6 AM.
Prime was followed by a period of work, which ended with Terce, a time for group prayer at about 9.
Then there’s more work from about 10 to just before Noon, when the nuns and brothers gather for Sext, a short service where a few psalms are read. That’s followed by the mid-day meal, a nap, another short service at about 3 PM called None, named for the 9th hour since dawn.
Then comes a few hours of work, dinner about 5:50, and Vespers at 6 PM.
After Vespers the nuns and monks have a time of personal, private prayers; regather for the brief service Compline, then hit the sack.
Protestants and Evangelicals might wonder where the idea for the canonical hours came from. There’s some evidence they derived from the practice of the Apostles, who as Jews, observed set times during the day for prayer. In Acts 10 we read how Peter prayed at the 6th hour. The Roman Centurion Cornelius, who’d adopted the Jewish faith, prayed at the 9th hour. In Acts 16, Paul and Silas worshipped at Midnight; though that may have been because they were in stocks in the Philippian jail. As early as the 5th C, Christians were using references in the Psalms as cues to pray in the morning, at mid-day and at midnight.
by Lance Ralston | Nov 2, 2014 | English |
This episode is titled, Dominic and continues our look on monastic life.
In our last episode, we considered Francis of Assisi and the monastic order that followed him, the Franciscans. In this installment, we take a look at the other great order that developed at that time; the Dominicans.
Dominic was born in the region of Castile, Spain in 1170. He excelled as a student at an early age. A priest by the age of 25, he was invited by his bishop to accompany him on a visit to Southern France where he ran into a group of supposed-heretics known as the Cathars. Dominic threw himself into a Church-sanctioned suppression of the Cathars through a preaching tour of the region.
Dominic was an effective debater of Cathar theology. He persuaded many who’d leaned toward their sect to instead walk away. These converts became zealous in the resistance against them. For this, the Bishop of Toulouse gave Dominic 1/6th of the diocesan tithes to continue his work. Another wealthy supporter gave Dominic a house in Toulouse so he could live and work at the center of controversy.
We’ll come back to the Cathars in a future episode.
Dominic visited Rome during the 4th Lateran Council, the subject of another future episode. He was encouraged by Pope Innocent III in his apologetic work but was refused in his request to start a new monastic order. The Pope suggested he instead join one of the existing orders. Since a Pope’s suggestion is really a command, Dominic chose the Augustinians. He donned their black monk’s habit and built a convent at Toulouse.
He returned to Rome a year later, staying for about a half year. The new Pope Honorius II granted his petition to start a new order. Originally called the “Order of Preaching Brothers,” it was the first religious community dedicated to preaching. The order grew rapidly in the 13th C, gaining 15,000 members in 557 houses by the end of the century.
When he returned to France, Dominic began sending monks to start colonies. The order quickly took root in Paris, Bologna, and Rome. Dominic returned to Spain where in 1218 he established separate communities for women and men.
From France, the Dominicans launched into Germany. They quickly established themselves in Cologne, Worms, Strasbourg, Basel, and other cities. In 1221, the order was introduced in England, and at once settled in Oxford. The Blackfriars Bridge, London, carries in its name the memory of their priory there.
Dominic died at Bologna in August, 1221. His tomb is decorated by the artwork of Nicholas of Pisa and Michaelangelo. Compared to the speedy recognition of Francis as a saint only two years after his death, Dominic’s took thirteen years; still a quick canonization.
Dominic lacked the warm, passionate concern for the poor and needy that marked his contemporary Francis. But if Francis was devoted to Lady Poverty, Dominic was pledged to Sir Truth. If Francis and Dominic were part of a cruise ship’s crew; Francis would be the activities director, Dominic the lawyer.
An old story illustrates the contrast between them. Interrupted in his studies by the chirping of a sparrow, Dominic caught and plucked it. Francis, on the other hand, is revered for his tender compassion and care for all things. To this day he’s represented in art with a bird perched on his shoulder.
Dominic was resolute in purpose, zealous in propagating Orthodoxy, and devoted to the Church and its hierarchy. His influence continues through the organization he created.
At the time of Dominic’s death, the preaching monks, or “friars” as they were called, had sixty monasteries and convents scattered across Europe. A few years later, they’d pressed to Jerusalem and deep into the North. Because the Dominicans were the Vatican’s preaching authority, they received numerous privileges to carry out their mission any and everywhere.
Mendicancy, that is begging as a means of support, was made the rule of the order in 1220. The example of Francis was followed, and the order as well as the individual monks renounced all right to personal property. However, this mendicancy was never emphasized among the Dominicans as it was among Franciscans. The obligation of corporate poverty was revoked in 1477. Dominic’s last exhortation to his followers was that they should love, service humbly, and live in poverty but to be frank, those precepts were never really taken much to heart by most of his followers.
Unlike Francis, Dominic didn’t require manual labor from the members of the order. He substituted study and preaching for labor. The Dominicans were the first monastics to adopt rules for studying. When Dominic founded his monastery in Paris, and sent seventeen of his order to staff it, he told them to “study and preach.” A theological course of four years in philosophy and theology was required before a license was granted to preach, and three years more of theological study followed.
Preaching and the saving of souls were defined as the chief aim of the order. No one was permitted to preach outside the cloister until he was 25. And they were not to receive money or other gifts for preaching, except food. Vincent Ferrer and Savonarola were the most renowned of the Dominican preachers of the Middle Ages. The mission of the Dominicans was mostly to the upper classes. They were the patrician order among the monastics.
Dominic would likely have been just one more nameless priest among thousands of the Middle Ages had it not been for that fateful trip to Southern France where he encountered the Cathars. He’d surely heard of them back in Spain but it was their popularity in France that provoked him. He saw and heard nothing among the heretics that he knew some good, solid teaching and preaching couldn’t correct. He was the right man, at the right time doing the right thing; at first. But his success at answering the errors of the Cathars gained him support that pressed him to step up his opposition toward error. That opposition would turn sinister and into what is arguably one of the dark spots on Church history – the Inquisition. Though hundreds of years have passed, the word still causes many to shiver in terror.
Dante said of Dominic he was, “Good to his friends, but dreadful to his enemies.”
We’ll take a closer look at the Inquisition in a later episode. For now à
In 1232, the conduct of the Inquisition was committed to the care of the Dominicans. Northern France, Spain, and Germany fell to their lot. The stern Torquemada was a Dominican, and the atrocious measures which he employed to spy out and punish ecclesiastical dissent an indelible blot on them.
The order’s device or emblem as appointed by the Pope was a dog with a lighted torch in its mouth. The dog represented the call to watch, the torch to illuminate the world. A painting in their convent in Florence represents the place the order came to occupy as hunters of heretics. It portrays dogs dressed in Dominican colors, chasing away heretic-foxes. All the while the pope and emperor, enthroned and surrounded by counselors, look on with satisfaction.
As we end this episode, I thought it wise to make a quick review of the Mendicant monastic orders we’ve been looking at.
First, the Mendicant orders differed from previous monastics in that they were committed, not just to individual but corporate poverty. The mendicant houses drew no income from rents or property. They depended on charity.
Second, the friars didn’t stay sequestered in monastic communes. Their task was to be out and about in the world preaching the Gospel. Because all of European society was deemed Christian, the mendicants took the entire world as their parish. Their cloister wasn’t the halls of a convent; it was the public marketplace.
Third, the rise of the universities at this time presented both the Franciscans and Dominicans with new opportunities to get the Gospel message out by educating Europe’s future generations.
Fourth, the mendicants promoted a renewal of piety by the Tertiary or third-level orders they set up, which allowed lay people an opportunity to attend a kind of monk-camp.
Fifth, The mendicants were directly answerable to the Pope rather than local bishops or intermediaries who often used orders to their own political and economic ends.
Sixth, the friars composed an order and organization more than a specific house as the previous orders had done. Before the mendicants, monks and nuns joined a convent or monastery. Their identity was wrapped up in that specific cloister. The Mendicants joined an order that was spread over dozens of such houses. Monks’ obedience was now not to the local abbot or abbess, but to the order’s leader.
Besides the Dominicans and Franciscans, other mendicant orders were the Carmelites, who began as hermits in the Holy Land in the 12th C; the Hermits of St. Augustine, and the Servites, who’d begun under the Augustinian rule in the 13th C, but became mendicants in the 15th.
by Lance Ralston | Oct 26, 2014 | English |
This Episode of CS is titled, Francis and continues our look at the mendicant orders.
Though we call him Francis of Assisi, his original name was Francesco Bernardone. Born in 1182, his given name was Giovanni (Latin of John). His father Pietro nicknamed him Francesco which is what everyone called him. Pietro was a wealthy dealer in textiles imported from France to their hometown of Assisi in central Italy.
His childhood was marked by the privileges of his family’s wealth. He wasn’t a great student, finding his delight more in having a good time entertaining friends. When a local war broke out, he signed up to fight for his and was taken prisoner. Released at 22, Francis then came down with a serious illness. That’s when he began to consider eternal things, as so many have when facing their mortality. He rose from his sick-bed disgusted with himself and unsatisfied with the world.
The war still on, he was on his way to rejoin the army when he turned back, sensing God had another path for him. He went into seclusion at a grotto near Assisi where his path forward became clearer. He decided to make a typical pilgrimage to Rome, where it was assumed the godly went to seek God. But there he was stuck by the terrible plight of the poor who lined the streets, many of them just outside the door of luxurious churches.
Confronted with a leper, he recoiled in horror. Then it dawned on him that his reaction was no different from an indifferent Church, which tolerated such gross need in their midst but doing nothing to lift the needy out of their condition. He turned around, kissed the leper’s hand, and left in it all the money he had.
Returning to Assisi, he attended the chapels in its suburbs instead of the main city church. There seemed less pretention in these humble chapels. He lingered most at the simply furnished St. Damian’s served by a single priest at a crude altar. This little chapel became a kind of Bethel for Francis; his bridge between heaven and earth.
The change that came over the one-time party-animal led to scorn and ridicule from those who’d known him. Privileged sons like Francis didn’t grovel in the mucky world of commoners; yet that was exactly what Francis was now doing. His father banished him from the family home. He renounced his obligations to them in public saying: “Up to this time I have called Pietro Bernardone ‘father,’ but now I desire to serve God and to say nothing else than ’Our Father which art in heaven.’” From then on, Francis was wholly devoted to a religious life. He dressed in beggar’s clothes, moved in with a small community of lepers, washed their sores, and restored the damaged walls of the chapel of St. Damian by begging building materials in the squares and streets of the city. He was 26 years old.
Francis then received from the Benedictine abbot of Mt. Subasio the gift of a little chapel called Santa Maria degli Angeli. Nicknamed the Portiuncula—the Little Portion. It became Francis’ favorite shrine. There he had most of his visions. It was there he eventually died.
While meditating one day in 1209, Francis heard the Words of Jesus to his followers, “Preach, the kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. Provide neither silver nor gold, nor brass in your purses.” Throwing away his staff, purse, and, shoes, he made this the rule of his life. He preached repentance and gathered about him several companions. Their Rule was nothing less than full obedience to the Gospel.
Their mission was to preach, by both word and deed. Their constant emphasis was to make sure their lives exemplified the Word and Work of God. One saying attributed to him is: “Preach at all times. When necessary, use words.”
In 1210, Francis and some companions went to Rome were they were received by Pope Innocent III. The chronicle of the event reports that the pope, in order to test his sincerity, said, “Go, brother, go to the pigs, to whom you are more fit to be compared than to men, and roll with them, and to them preach the rules you have so ably set forth.” This may seem like a cruel put off, but it may in truth have been a test of Francis’ sincerity. He proposed a very different way than priests and monks had chosen. This command would certainly determine if Francis’ claim to poverty and obedience were genuine. Well, Francis DID obey, and returned saying, “My Lord, I have done so.” If the pope had only been mocking, Francis’ response softened him. He gave his blessing to the brotherhood and sanctioned their rule, granted them the right to cut their hair in the distinctive tonsure that was the badge of the monk, and told them to go and preach repentance.
The brotherhood increased rapidly. The members were expected to work. In his will, Francis urged the brethren to work at some trade as he’d done. He compared an idle monk to a drone. The brethren visited the sick, especially lepers who sat at the very bottom of the social order. They preached in ever expanding circles, and went abroad on missionary journeys. Francis was ready to sell the very ornaments of the altar rather than refuse an appeal for aid. He was ashamed when he encountered any one poorer than himself.
One of the most remarkable episodes of Francis’ career occurred at this time. He made a covenant, like marriage, with Poverty. He called it his bride, mother, and sister, and remained devoted to Sister Poverty with the devotion of a knight.
In 1217, Francis was presented to the new Pope Honorius III. At the advice of a powerful Cardinal who would later become Pope Gregory IX, he memorized his sermon. But when he appeared before the pontiff, he forgot it all and instead delivered an impromptu message, which won over the papal court.
Francis made evangelistic tours in 1219 thru Italy then into Egypt and Syria. Returning from the East with the title “il poverello” the little Poor Man, he found a new element had been introduced into the brotherhood thru the influence of a stern disciplinarian named Cardinal Ugolino, the same cardinal who’d coached him to memorize his sermon before the pope.
Francis was heart-broken over the changes made to his order. Passing through Bologna in 1220, he was deeply grieved to see a new house being built for the brothers. Cardinal Ugolino was determined to manipulate the Franciscans in the interest of the Vatican. Early on he’d offered Francis help to negotiate the intricacies of Vatican life and politics, and Francis accepted. Little did he realize he was inviting a force that would fundamentally alter all he stood for. Under the cardinal’s influence, a new code was adopted in 1221, then a third just two years later in which Francis’ distinctive perspective for the Franciscans was set aside. The original Rule of poverty was modified; the old ideas of monastic discipline re-introduced, and a new element of absolute submission to the pope added. The mind of Francis was too simple for the shrewd rulers of the church. His lack of guile couldn’t compete with men whose entire lives were lived wielding vast levers of political power. He was set aside and a member of the nobility was put at the head of the Order.
The forced subordination of Francis offers one of the most touching spectacles of medieval biography. Francis had withheld himself from papal privileges. He’d favored freedom of movement. But the deft hand of Cardinal Ugolino installed a strict monastic obedience. Organization replaced devotion. Ugolino probably did attempt to be a real friend to Francis but his loyalty was always and only to the Pope whom the Cardinal thought ought to be the undisputed ruler of all and every facet of Church life. It didn’t seem right to him that any monastic order wasn’t directly answerable to and controlled by the Pope. Ugolino laid the foundation of the cathedral in Assisi to Francis’ honor, and canonized him only two years after his death. But the Cardinal did not appreciate Francis’ humble spirit. Francis was helpless to carry out his original ideas, and yet, without making any outward sign of rebellion, he held them tightly to the end.
These ideas were affirmed in Francis’ famous will. This document is one of the most moving pieces of Christian literature. Francis called himself “little brother.” All he had to leave the brothers was his benediction, the memory of the early days of the brotherhood, and counsels to abide by their first Rule. This Rule, he said, he’d received from no human author. God himself had revealed it to him, that he ought to live according to the Gospel. He reminded them how the first members loved to live in poor and abandoned churches. He bade them not accept ornate churches or luxurious houses, in accordance with the rule of holy poverty they’d professed. He forbade their receiving special privileges from the Pope or his agents, even orders that gave them personal protection. Through the whole of the document there runs a note of anguish over the lost simplicity that had been the power of their first years; years when the presence of God had been so obvious and they had power to live the holy lives they longed for.
Francis’ heart was broken. Never strong, his last years were full of sicknesses. Change of location only brought temporary relief. The works of physicians, such as the age knew, were employed. But no wonder they didn’t help when you hear what they were: an iron, heated white-hot, was applied to his forehead.
As his body failed, he jokingly referred to it as Brother Ass.
Francis’s reputation as a saint preceded his death. We’ve talked about relics in previous episodes. But relics were always attributed to people dead for decades, usually hundreds of years. Francis was a living saint from whom people craved things like fragments of his clothing, hairs from his head, even the parings of his nails.
Two years before his death, Francis composed the hymn Canticle to the Sun, called by some the most perfect expression of religious feeling. It was written at a time when he was beset by temptations with blindness setting in. The hymn is a pious peal of passionate praise for nature, especially Brother Sun and Sister Moon.
The last week of his life, Francis asked for Psalm 142 to be read to him since his eyes were failing. Two brothers sang to him. That’s when a priest named Elias, loyal to Cardinal Ugolino and had advocated setting aside Francis’ original Rule in favor of the Cardinal’s more strict rule, rebuked Francis for making light of death and acting as though he wanted to die! “Why, what kind of faith did that reveal,” the indignant priest asked? It was thought unfitting for a saint. Francis replied that he’d been thinking of death for at least a couple years, and now that he was so united with the Lord, he ought to be joyful in Him. One witness at his bedside said when the time came, “he met death singing.”
Before Francis’ coffin was closed, great honors began to be heaped upon him. He was canonized only two years later.
The career of Francis of Assisi, as told by his contemporaries, and as his spirit is revealed in his own last testament, leaves the impression of purity, purpose, and humility of spirit; of genuine saintliness. He sought not positions of honor nor a place with the great. With a simple mind, he sought to serve his fellow-man by announcing the Gospel, and living out his understanding of it in his own example.
He sought to give the Gospel to the common people. They heard him gladly. He didn’t possess a great intellect but had a great soul.
He was no diplomat, but he was a man whose love for God and people was obvious to all who met him.
Francis wasn’t a theologian in the classic sense; someone who thought lofty thoughts. He was a practical theologian in that he lived the truths the best theology holds. He spoke and acted as one who feels full confidence in his mission. He spoke to the Church as no one after him did till Martin Luther came.
While history refers to the followers of Francis as the Franciscans, their official name was the fratres minores, the Minor Brethren, or simply the Minorites. When the order was first sanctioned by the Pope, Francis insisted on this as their title as a warning to the members not to aspire after positions of distinction.
They spread rapidly in Italy and beyond; but before Francis’ generation passed, the order was torn by the strife Cardinal Ugolino introduced. No other monastic order can show anything like long conflict within its own membership over a question of principle. The dispute had a unique place in the theological debates of the Middle Ages.
According to the founding Rule of 1210 and Francis’ last will, they were to be a free brotherhood devoted to poverty and the practice of the Gospel, rather than a closed organization bound by precise rules. Pope Innocent III who’d originally sanctioned them, urged Francis to take the rule of the older orders as his model, but Francis declined and went his own path. He built upon a few texts of Scripture. And as we said, just six years into the order’s life, Cardinal Ugolino installed a rigid discipline to the order, pushing aside Francis’ vision of a free brotherhood governed by grace instead of rules.
In 1217, the order began sending missionaries beyond Italy. Elias, a former mattress-maker in Assisi and one of Ugolino’s lackeys, led a band of missionaries to Syria. Others went to Germany, Hungary, France, Spain and England. The Franciscans proved to be courageous and entrepreneurial agents for the Gospel. They went south to Morocco and east as far as China. They accompanied Columbus on his 2nd journey to the New World and were active in early American missions from Florida to California, from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico.
The Rule of 1221, second in the order’s history, shows two influences at work; one from Ugolino, the other of course from Francis. There are signs of the struggle which had already begun several years before. The Rule placed a general at the head of the order and a governing body or board was installed, made up of the heads of the order’s houses. Poverty was retained as a primary principle and the requirement of work remained. The sale of their products was forbidden except when it benefited the poor and needy.
The Rule of 1223, the third, was briefer but added even more organization to the order. It went further in erasing from the order the will of Francis. The mendicant or begging character of the order was emphasized. But obedience to the pope was introduced and a cardinal was made the order’s protector and guardian. Contrary to Francis’ will, a devotional book of prayers and hymns called the Roman Breviary was ordered to be used as the book of daily worship. Monastic discipline replaced Biblical liberty. The Rule of 1223 made clear the strong hand of papal hierarchy. The freedom of the 1210 Rule disappeared. The pope’s agents did everything they could to suppress Francis’ last testament since it was a passionate appeal for the original freedom of his brotherhood against the new order.
In light of the way the order was stolen out from under Francis’ leadership during his own lifetime, it’s a wonder they continued to be known as the Franciscans; they ought to have been called the Ugolinoians.
Alongside the male Franciscans were the Clarisses, nuns who took their name from Clara of Sciffi, canonized in 1255. Clara was so moved by Francis’ example she started a parallel order for women. Francis wrote a Rule for them which enforced poverty and made a will for Clara. The nuns supported themselves by the labor of their hands, but by Francis’ advice and example also became mendicants who depended on alms. Their rule was also modified in 1219 and the order was afterwards compelled to adopt the much older Benedictine rule.
The Tertiaries, or Brothers and Sisters of Penitence, were the third order of the Franciscans. The Tertiaries were lay brothers and sisters who held other employment but wanted to show a greater level of devotion to God than the common person. Francis never made an order for the Tertiaries. He simply called them to dedicate themselves wholly to God while going about their usual lives as merchants, workers and family men and women.
Francis wanted to include all classes of people, men and women, married and unmarried. His object was to put within the reach of lay-people the higher practice of virtue and godliness it was thought only sequestered monks or nuns could attain.
Historians wonder where Francis got his idea for his attempt to take the rigid formalism of the church of the Middle Ages back to more of a New Testament practice. Chances are good he took his example from the Waldenses, also called the Poor Men of Lyons, a group well known in Northern Italy in Francis’ day.
Most likely, it was Francis’ original intent to start an organic movement of lay-people, and that the idea of a monastic order only developed later.
Following Francis’ death, throughout the rest of the 13th C, the Franciscans were split into two groups; those who clung to his original vision and Rule and the stricter sect loyal to Cardinal Ugolino. The contest became so bitter that at times it fell to bloodshed. Eventually the pro-papal party prevailed.
In the pervious episode, I mentioned Francis was a bit of an anti-intellectual. That is to say, he’d seen too many priests who could parse fine points of doctrine, but who, like the religious leaders in the parable of the Good Samaritan, seemed not to understand the practical compassion, mercy and grace their theology ought to have stirred in them. Francis was not against learning per say; only when such study pre-empted living out what Truth commends. To a monastic leader named Anthony of Padua, Francis wrote, “I am agreed that you continue reading lectures on theology to the brethren provided that kind of study does not extinguish in them the spirit of humility and prayer.”
Francis’ followers departed from his anti-intellectual leaning and adopted the 13th Century’s trend of casting off the darkness of the Middle Ages by establishing schools and universities. They built schools in their convents and were well settled at the chief centers of university culture. In 1255, an order called upon Franciscans going out as missionaries to study Greek, Arabic, and Hebrew.
The order spread rapidly all the way to Israel and Syria in the East and Ireland in the West. It was introduced in France by Pacifico and Guichard, a brother-in-law of the French king. The first successful attempt to establish the order in Germany was made in 1221.
They took root in England in Canterbury and London in 1224. They were the first popular preachers England had seen, and the first to embody practical philanthropy. The condition of English villages and towns at that time was wretched. Skin diseases were common, including leprosy. Destructive epidemics spread rapidly due to the poor sanitation. The Franciscans chose quarters in the poorest and most neglected parts of towns. In Norwich, they settled in a swamp through which the city sewerage passed. At Newgate, now part of London, they settled into what was called Stinking Lane. At Cambridge, they occupied a decaying prison.
It was for this zeal to reach the poor and needy they received recognition. People soon learned to respect the brothers. By 1256, the number of English Franciscans had grown to over 1200, settled in just shy of fifty locations around England.
We’ll see what became of the Franciscans later. Suffice it to say, Francis would not approve of what became of his brotherhood. No he would NOT!
The Mendicant orders of the Franciscans and Dominicans, which we’ll look at next time, comprised a medieval poverty movement that was in large part, a reaction to the politicizing of the Faith. It was a movement of priests, monks and eventually commoners, who’d come to believe Church policies sought to wrangle political influence for ever more power in world affairs. These would-be reformers wondered, “Is this what Jesus and the Apostle intended? Didn’t Jesus say His Kingdom was NOT of this world? Why then are Bishops, Cardinals and Popes working so hard at controlling the political realm?”
The call to voluntary poverty drew its strength from widespread resentment of corrupt clergy; not that all or even most priests were. But it seemed the only priests selected for advancement were those who played the Church’s political game. The back-to-the-New Testament poverty movement of the Mendicants became a political movement in itself – a reform movement fueled by the spiritual hunger of the common people.
As early as the 10th C, reformers had called for a return to the poverty and simplicity of the early church. The life and example of the Apostles was regarded as the norm and when modern bishops were held up to that example, it was clear something unusual had happened; bishops in their religious finery stood markedly higher than the Apostles in terms of worldly power and wealth.
To illustrate this, visit the cathedral at Cologne, Germany. There’s a little museum there called the Treasury. It contains several display cases with the various vestments and tools the cardinals of Cologne have worn. Composed of gold and silver threads, encrusted with gems, these robes are priceless; literally. But one set of cases sums up for me the utter contradiction of an exalted clergy; the croziers. A crozier is a stylized shepherd’s staff carried by a bishop or cardinal. It’s a symbol of his role as a pastor, a shepherd. As a shepherd’s staff it ought to be a functional and useful tool. A humble piece of wood used to guide and protect sheep. But the croziers in the Treasury at Cologne Cathedral are made of solid gold, their head-pieces jammed with rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and pearls. You would no more use that to tend sheep than you would a painting by Rembrandt. Every time a cardinal wrapped his fingers around it, he ought to have been convicted deeply about how FAR FROM his calling as a humble servant to the flock we was.
Now, imagine you’re a commoner at church one Sunday. You’ve just been told by some priest God wants every bit of money you can give. How God NEEDS your money! Then in walks the Cardinal with his jewel-encrusted cape, his mitre and that priceless crozier in his hand.
How long before you begin to say to yourself, “WHAT is going on here? Did Jesus wear a get-up like that? Did Peter or John or any of the Apostles? I don’t think so. In fact, Jesus said something about not even having anywhere to lay his head. I’ll bet that Cardinal has a nice satin covered down pillow.”
In the earlier centuries of the Church, calls for reform were dealt with by channeling them into internal reform movements that directed attention away from the upper hierarchy to a more personal desire for reform that ended up in increased devotion. That’s what many of the monastic orders were. But by the 12th and 13th Centuries things began to change. Many of the lesser clergy began to speak out against the abuses of the Church. When they did they often entered the ranks of what were called “heretics.”
Francis adopted a radical devotion to poverty as a way to confront the blatant greed of the Church. His example spread like wild-fire precisely because it was so obvious to everyone how far off the Church had gotten. And it explains why Ugolino felt obligated to bring the order back in line by bringing it under the control of the Pope. While outwardly commending their order’s devotion to poverty, he installed policies that made the order dependent on their land holdings and property. It’s hard to criticize the wealth of “The Church,” when you’re part of that church and possess a good measure of that wealth.
Some were wise to Ugolino’s ways and went further by staying true to Francis’ original vision and commitment to poverty. Because they refused to knuckle under to his rule, they were declared heretical. And as heretics, they were treated with a brutality no one can reconcile with the Gospel of Grace. à But that, is for a later episode.
by Lance Ralston | Oct 19, 2014 | English |
This episode is titled – Monk Business Part 2
In the early 13th C a couple new monastic orders of preaching monks sprang up known as the Mendicants. They were the Franciscans and Dominicans.
The Franciscans were founded by Francis of Assisi. They concentrated on preaching to ordinary Christians, seeking to renew basic, Spirit-led discipleship. The mission of the Dominicans aimed at confronting heretics and aberrant ideas.
The Dominicans were approved by the Pope as an official, church sponsored movement in 1216, the Franciscans received Papal endorsement 7 years later.
They quickly gained the respect of scholars, princes, and popes, along with high regard by the masses. Their fine early reputation is counterbalanced by the idleness, ignorance, and in some cases, infamy, of their later history.
To be a Mendicant meant to rely on charity for support. A salary or wage isn’t paid by the church to support mendicant monks.
The appearance of these two mendicant orders was one of the most significant events of the Middle Ages, and marks one of the notable revivals in the history of the Christian Church. They were the Salvation Army of the 13th C. At a time when the spirit of the Crusades was waning and heresies threatened authority, Francis d’Assisi and Dominic de Guzman, an Italian and a Spaniard, united in reviving the spirit of the Western Church. They started monasticism on a new path. They embodied Christian philanthropy; the sociological reformers of their age. The orders they birthed supplied the new universities and study of theology with some of their most brilliant lights.
Two temperaments could scarcely have differed more widely than the temperaments of Francis and Dominic. The poet Dante described Francis as a Flame, igniting the world with love; Dominic he said, was a Light, illuminating the world.
Francis is the most unpretentious, gentle, and lovable of all greats of monastic life.
Dominic was, to put it bluntly à cold, systematic, and austere.
Francis was greater than the order that sought to embody his ways.
The Dominicans became greater than their master by taking his rules and building on them.
Francis was like one of the apostles; Dominic a later and lesser leader.
When you think of Francis, see him mingling with people or walking through a field, barefoot so his toes can feel the soil and grass. Dominic belongs in a study, surrounded by books, or in court pleading a case.
Francis’ lifework was to save souls. Dominic’s was to defend the Church. Francis has been celebrated for his humility and gentleness; Dominic was called the “Hammer of heretics.”
The two leaders probable met at least thre times. In 1217, they were both at Rome, and the Vatican proposed the union of the two orders into one organization. Dominic asked Francis for his cord, and bound himself with it, saying he desired the two to be one. A year later they again met at Francis’ church in Assisi, and on the basis of what he saw, Dominic decided to embrace mendicancy, which the Dominicans adopted in 1220. In 1221, Dominic and Francis again met at Rome, when a powerful Cardinal tried to wrest control of the orders.
Neither Francis nor Dominic wanted to reform existing monastic orders. At first, Francis had no intention of founding an order. He simply wanted to start a more organic movement of Christians to transform the world. Both Dominic and Francis sought to return the church to the simplicity and dynamic of Apostolic times.
Their orders differed from the older monastic orders in several ways.
First was their commitment to poverty. Dependence on charity was a primary commitment. Both forbade the possession of property. Not only did the individual monk pledge poverty, the entire order did as well. You may remember from our last episode this was a major turn-around from nearly all the previous monastic orders, who while the individual monks were pledged to poverty, their houses could become quite wealthy and plush.
The second feature was their devotion to practical activities in society. Previous monks had fled for solitude to the monastery. The Black and Gray Friars, as the Dominicans and Franciscans were called from the colors of their habits, gave themselves to the service of a needy world. To solitary contemplation they added immersion in the marketplace. Unlike some of the previous orders, they weren’t consumed with warring against their own flesh. They turned their attention to battling the effects of evil on the world. They preached to the common people. They relieved poverty. They listened to and sought to redress the complaints of the oppressed.
A third characteristic of the orders was that lay brotherhoods developed à a 3rd order, called the Tertiaries. These were lay men and women who, while pursuing their usual vocations, were bound by oath to practice the virtues of the Christian life.
Some Christians will hear this and say, “Wait – isn’t that what all genuine followers in Christ are supposed to do– follow Jesus obediently while being employed as a mechanic, student, salesman, engineer school-teacher or whatever?”
Indeed! But keep in mind that the doctrine of salvation by grace through faith, and living the Christian life by the power of the Spirit had been submerged under a lot of religion and ritual. It took the Reformation, three centuries later to clear away the ritualistic crust and restore the Gospel of Grace. In the 13th C, most people thought living a life that really pleased God meant being a monk, nun or priest. Lay brotherhood was a way for someone to in effect say – “My station in life doesn’t allow me to live a cloistered life; but if I could, I would.” Many, probably most believed they were hopelessly sinful, but that by giving to their priest or supporting the local monastery, the full-time religious guys could rack up a surplus of godliness they could draw on to cover them. The church facilitated this mindset. The message wasn’t explicit but implied was, “You go on and muddle through your helplessness, but if you support the church and her priests and monks, we’ll be able to pray for your sorry soul and do works of kindness God will bless, then we’ll extend our covering over you.”
On an aside, while that sounds absurd to many today, don’t in fact many repeat this? Don’t they fall to the same error when a husband hopes his believing wife is religious enough for the both of them? Or when a teenager assumes his family’s years of going to church will somehow reserve his/her spot in heaven? Salvation on the family-plan.
Lay brotherhood was a way for commoners to say, “Yeah, I don’t really buy that surrogate-holiness thing. I think God wants ME to follow Him and not trust someone else’s faith.”
A fourth feature was monks activity as teachers in the universities. They recognized these new centers of education held a powerful influence, and adapted themselves to the situation.
While the Dominicans were quick to enter the universities, the Franciscans lagged. They did so because Francis had resisted learning. He was a bit of an anti-intellectualist. He was because he’d seen way too much of the scholarship of priests who ignored the poor. So he said things like, “Knowledge puffs up, but charity edifies.”
To a novice he said, “If you have a songbook you’ll want a prayer-book; and if you have a prayer-book, you’ll sit on a high chair like a prelate, and say to your brother, ’Bring me my prayer-book.’ ” To another he said, “The time of tribulation will come when books will be useless and be thrown away.”
While this was Francis’ attitude toward academics, his successors among the Franciscans built schools and became sought after as professors in places like the University of Paris. The Dominicans led the way, and established themselves early at the seats of the two great continental universities, Paris and Bologna.
At Paris, Oxford, and Cologne, as well as a few other universities, they furnished the greatest of the Academics. Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, and Durandus, were Dominicans; John of St. Giles, Alexander Hales, Adam Marsh, Bonaventura, Duns Scotus, Ockham, and Roger Bacon were all Franciscans.
The fifth notable feature of the Mendicant orders was their quick approval by the Pope. The Franciscans and Dominicans were the first monastic bodies to vow allegiance directly to him. No bishop, abbot, or general chapter intervened between order and Pope. The two orders became his bodyguard and proved themselves to be a bulwark of the papacy. The Pope had never had such organized support before. They helped him establish his authority over bishops. Wherever they went, which was everywhere in Europe, they made it their business to establish the principle of the Vatican’s supremacy over princes and realms.
The Franciscans and Dominicans became the enforcement arm for doctrinal orthodoxy. They excelled all others in hunting down and rooting out heretics. In Southern France, they wiped out heresy with a river of blood. They were the leading instruments of the Inquisition. Torquemada was a Dominican. As early as 1232, Gregory IX officially authorized the Dominicans to carry out the Inquisition. And in a move that had to send Francis spinning at top speed in his burial plot, the Franciscans demanded the Pope grant them a share in the gruesome work. Under the lead of Duns Scotus they became champions of the doctrine of the immaculate conception of Mary.
The rapid growth of the orders in number and influence was accompanied by bitter rivalry. The disputes between them were so violent that in 1255 their generals had to call on their monks to stop fighting. Each order was constantly jealous that the other enjoyed more favor with the pope than itself.
It’s sad to see how quickly the humility of Francis and the desire for truth in Dominic was set aside by the orders they gave rise to. Because of the papal favor they enjoyed, monks of both orders began to intrude into every parish and church, incurring the hostility of the clergy whose rights they usurped. They began doing specifically priestly services, things monks were not authorized to do, like hearing confession, granting absolution, and serving Communion.
Though they’d begun as reform movements, they soon delayed reformation. They degenerated into obstinate obstructers of progress in theology and civilization. From being the advocates of learning, they became props to ignorance. The virtue of poverty was naught but a veneer for a vulgar and indolent insolence.
These changes set in long before the end of the 13th C, the same century the Franciscans and Dominicans had their birth. Bishops opposed them. The secular clergy complained of them. Universities ridiculed and denounced them for their mock piety and abundant vices. They were compared to the Pharisees and Scribes. They were declaimed as hypocrites that bishops were urged to purge from their dioceses. Cardinals and princes repeatedly appealed to popes to end their intrusions into church affairs, but usually the popes were on the Mendicant’s side.
In the 15th C, one well-known teacher listed the four great persecutors of the Church; tyrants, heretics, antichrist, and the Mendicants.
All of this is a sorry come-down from the lofty beginnings of their founders.
We’ll take the next couple episodes to go into a bit more depth on these two leaders and the orders they founded.
As we end this episode, I want to again say thanks to all those listeners and subscribers who’ve “liked” and left comments on the CS FB page.
I’d also like to say how appreciative I am to those who’ve gone to the iTunes subscription page for CS and left a positive review. Any donation to CS is appreciated.
by Lance Ralston | Oct 12, 2014 | English |
This 58th Episode of CS is titled – Monk Business Part 1 and is the first of several episodes in which we’ll take a look at monastic movements in Church History.
I realize that may not sound terribly exciting to some. The prospect of digging into this part of the story didn’t hold much interest for me either, until I realized how rich it is. You see, being a bit of a fan for the work of J. Edwin Orr, I love the history of revival. Well, it turns out each new monastic movement was often a fresh move of God’s Spirit in renewal. Several were a new wineskin for God’s work.
The roots of monasticism are worth taking some time to unpack. Let’s get started . . .
Leisure time to converse about philosophy with friends was prized in the ancient world. Even if someone didn’t have the intellectual chops to wax eloquent on philosophy, it was still fashionable to express a yearning for such intellectual leisure, or “otium” as it was called; but of course, they were much too busy serving their fellow man. It was the ancient version of, “I just don’t have any ‘Me-time’.”
Sometimes, as the famous Roman orator Cicero, the ancients did score the time for such reflection and enlightened discussion and retired to write on themes such as duty, friendship, and old age. That towering intellect and theologian, Augustine of Hippo had the same wish as a young man, and when he became a Christian in 386, left his professorship in oratory to devote his life to contemplation and writing. He retreated with a group of friends, his son and his mother, to a home on Lake Como, to discuss, then write about The Happy Life, Order and other such subjects, in which both classical philosophy and Christianity shared an interest. When he returned to his hometown in North Africa, he set up a community in which he and his friends could lead a monastic life, apart from the world, studying scripture and praying. Augustine’s contemporary, Jerome; translator of the Latin Bible known as the Vulgate, felt the same tug, and he, too, made a series of attempts to live apart from the world so he could give himself to philosophical reflection.
Ah; the Good Life!
This sense of a divine ‘call’ to a Christian version of this life of ‘philosophical retirement’ had an important difference from the older, pagan version. While reading and meditation remained central, the call to do it in concert with others who also set themselves apart from the world both spiritually and physically was added to the mix.
For the monks and nuns who sought such a communal life, the crucial thing was the call to a way of life which would make it possible to ‘go apart’ and spend time with God in prayer and worship. Prayer was the opus dei, the ‘work of God’.
As it was originally conceived, to become a monk or nun was to attempt to obey to the full the commandment to love God with all one is and has. In the Middle Ages, it was also understood to be a fulfillment of the command to love one’s neighbor, for monks and nuns prayed for the world. They really believed prayer was an important task on behalf of a morally and spiritually needy world of lost souls. So among the members of a monastery, there were those who prayed, those who ruled, and those who worked. The most important to society, were those who prayed.
A difference developed between the monastic movements in the East and West. In the East, the Desert Fathers set the pattern. They were hermits who adopted extreme forms of piety and asceticism. They were regarded as powerhouses of spiritual influence; authorities who could assist ordinary people with their problems. The Stylites, for example, lived on high platforms; sitting atop poles, and were an object of reverence to those who came to ask advice. Others, shut off from the world in caves or huts, sought to deny themselves any contact with the temptations of ‘the world’, especially women. There was in this an obvious preoccupation with the dangers of the flesh, which was partly a legacy of the Greek dualists’ conviction that matter and the physical world were unredeemably evil.
I pause to make a personal, pastoral observation. So warning! – Blatant opinion follows.
You can’t read the NT without seeing the call to holiness in the Christian Life. But that holiness is a work of God’s grace as the Holy Spirit empowers the believer to live a life pleasing to God. NT holiness is a joyous privilege, not a heavy burden and duty. NT holiness enhances life, never diminishes it.
This is what Jesus modeled so well; and it’s why genuine seekers after God were drawn to him. He was attractive. He didn’t just do holiness, He WAS Holy. Yet no one had more life. And everywhere He went, dead things came to life!
As Jesus’ followers, we’re supposed to be holy in the same way. But if we’re honest, we’d have to admit that for the vast majority, holiness is conceived as a dry, boring, life-sucking burden of moral perfection.
Real holiness isn’t religious rule-keeping. It isn’t a list of moral proscriptions; a set of “Don’t’s! Or I will smite thee with Divine Wrath and cast thy wretched soul into the eternal flames!”
NT holiness is a mark of Real Life, the one Jesus rose again to give us. It’s Jesus living in and thru us.
The Desert Fathers and hermits who followed their example were heavily influenced by the dualist Greek worldview that all matter was evil and only the spirit was good. Holiness meant an attempt to avoid any shred of physical pleasure while retreating into the life of the mind. This thinking was the major force influencing the monastic movement as it moved both East and West. But in the East, the monks were hermits who pursued their lifestyles in isolation while in the West, they tended to pursue them in concert and communal life.
As we go on we’ll see that some monastic leaders realized casting holiness as a negative denial of the flesh rather than a positive embracing of the love and truth of Christ was an error they sought to reform.
In the East, while monks might live in a group, they didn’t seek for community. They didn’t converse or work together in a common cause. They simply shared cells next to one another. And each followed his own schedule. Their only real contact was that they ate together and might pray together. This tradition continues to this day on Mount Athos in northern Greece, where monks live in solitude and prayer in cells high on the cliffs, food lowered to them in baskets.
A crucial development in Western monasticism took place in the 6th C, when Benedict of Nursia withdrew with a group of friends to live an ascetic life. This prompted him to give serious thought to the way in which the ‘religious life’ should be organized. Benedict arranged for groups of 12 monks to live together in small communities. Then he moved to Monte Cassino where, in 529, he set up the monastery which was to become the mother house of the Benedictine Order. The rule of life he drew up there was a synthesis of elements in existing rules for monastic life. From this point on, the Rule of St Benedict set the standard for living the religious life until the 12th C.
The Rule achieved a good working balance between the body and soul. It aimed at moderation and order. It said that those who went apart from the world to live lives dedicated to God should not subject themselves to extreme asceticism. They should live in poverty and chastity, and in obedience to their abbot, but they shouldn’t feel the need to brutalize their flesh with things like scourges and hair-shirts. They should eat moderately but not starve. They should balance their time in a regular and orderly way between manual work, reading and prayer—their real work for God. There were to be seven regular acts of worship in the day, known as ‘hours’, attended by the entire community. In Benedict’s vision, the monastic yoke was to be sweet; the burden light. The monastery was a ‘school’ of the Lord’s service, in which the baptized soul made progress in the Christian life.
In the Anglo-Saxon period of English history, nuns formed a significant part of the population. There were several ‘double monasteries’, where communities of monks and nuns lived side by side. Several female abbots, called ‘abbesses’ proved to be outstanding leaders. Hilda, the Abbess of the double monastery at Whitby played a major role at the Synod of Whitby in 664.
A common feature of monastic life in the West was that it was largely reserved for the upper classes. Serfs generally didn’t have the freedom to become monks. The houses of monks and nuns were the recipients of noble and royal patronage, usually because the nobility thought by supporting such a holy endeavor, they promoted their spiritual case with God. Remember as well that while the first-born son stood to inherit everything, later sons were a potential cause of unrest if they decided to vie with their elder brother in gaining the birthright. So these ‘spare’ children of good birth were often given to monastic communes by their families. They were then charged with carrying the religious duty for the entire family. They were a kind of “spiritual surrogate” whose task was to produce a surplus of godliness the rest of the family could draw from. Rich and powerful families gave monasteries, lands and estates, for the good of the souls of their members. Rulers and soldiers were too busy to attend to their spiritual lives, so ‘professionals’ drawn from their own families could help them by doing it on their behalf.
A consequence of this was that, in the late Middle Ages, the abbot or abbess was usually a nobleman or woman. She/He was often chosen because of being the highest in birth in the monastery or convent, and not because of any natural powers of leadership or outstanding spirituality. Chaucer’s cruel 14th C caricature of a prioress depicts a woman who would have been much more at home in a country house playing with her pet dogs.
In these features of noble patronage of the religious life lay not only the stamp of society’s approval, but also the potential for decay. Monastic houses that became rich and were filled with those who’d not chosen to enter the religious life, but had been put there in childhood, often became decadent. The Cluniac reforms of the 10th C were a consequence of the recognition that there would need to be a tightening of the ship if the Benedictine order was not to be lost altogether. In the commune at Cluny and the houses which imitated it, standards were high, although here, too, there was a danger of distortion of the original Benedictine vision. Cluniac houses had extra rules and a degree of rigidity which compromised the original simplicity of Benedictine life.
At the end of the 11th C, several developments radically altered the range of choice for those in the West who wanted to enter a monastery. The first was a change of fashion, which encouraged married couples of mature years to decide to end their days as a monk or nun. A knight who’d fought his wars might make an agreement with his wife that they would go off into separate religious houses. Adult entry of this sort was by those who really did want to be there, and it had the potential to alter the balance in favor of serious commitment.
But these mature adults weren’t the only one’s entering monasteries. It became fashionable for younger people to head off to a monastery where education had become top-rank. Then monasteries began to specialize in various pursuits. It was a time of experimentation.
Out of this period of experiment came one immensely important new order, the Cistercians. They used the Benedictine rule, but had a different set of priorities. The first was a determination to protect themselves from the dangers which could come from growing too rich.
“Too rich?” you might ask. “How’s that possible if they’d taken a vow of poverty?”
Ah à There’s the rub.
Yes; monks and nuns vowed poverty, but their lifestyle included diligence in work. And some brilliant minds had joined the monasteries, so they’d devised ingenious methods for going about their work in a more productive manner, enhancing yields of crops and products. Being deft businessmen, they worked good deals and maximized profits, which went in to the monastery’s account. But individual monks, of course, didn’t profit thereby. The funds were used to expand the monastery’s resources and facilities. This led to even higher profits. Which were then used in plushing up the monastery itself. The monks’ cells got nicer, the food better, the grounds more sumptuous, the library more expansive. The monks got new outfits. Outwardly things technically were the same, they owned nothing personally, but in fact, their monastic world was upgraded significantly.
The Cistercians responded to this by building houses in remote places and keeping them as simple, bare lodgings. They also made a place for people from the lower social classes who had vocations but wanted to give themselves more completely to God for a period of time. These were called “lay brothers.”
The rather startling early success of the Cistercians was due to Bernard of Clairvaux. When he decided to enter a newly founded Cistercian monastery, he took with him a group of friends and relatives. Because of his oratory skill and praise for the Cistercian model, recruitment proceed so rapidly many more houses had to be founded in quick succession. He was made abbot of one of them at Clairvaux, from which he draws his name. He went on to become a leading figure in the monastic world and in politics. He spoke so well and so movingly that he was useful as a diplomatic emissary, as well as a preacher. You may remember he was one of the premier reasons the Crusades were able to rally so many to their campaign.
Other monastic experiments weren’t so successful. The willingness to try new forms of the monastic life gave a platform for some short-lived endeavors by the eccentric. There are always those who think their idea is THE way it ought to be done. Either because they lack common sense or have no skill at recruiting, they fall apart. So many were engaged in pushing forward the boundaries of monastic life one writer thought it would be helpful to review the available modes in the 12th C. His work covered all the possibilities, from the Benedictines and reformed Benedictines, to priests who didn’t live enclosed lives, but who were allowed to work in the world—and the various sorts of hermits.
The only real rival to the Rule of St Benedict was the ‘Rule’ of Augustine, which was adopted by church leaders. These differed from monks, in that they were priests who could be active in the wider social community, for example, by serving in a parish church. They weren’t living under a monastic rule which confined a monk for life to the house in which he was consecrated. Priests serving in a cathedral, for example, were encouraged to live in a city but under a code like the Augustinian rule which was well-adapted to their needs.
The 12th C saw the creation of new monastic orders. In Paris, the Victorines produced leading academic figures and teachers. The Premonstratensians were a group of Latin monks who took on the massive task of healing the rift between the Eastern and Western churches. The problem was, there was no corresponding monastic group in the East.
We’ll pick it up at this point next time.
Monasticism is an important part of Church History because of the huge impact it had shaping the faith of common Christians throughout the Middle Ages and on into the Renaissance. Some of the monastic leaders are the great pillars of the faith. We can’t really understand them without knowing a little about the world they lived in.
As we end this episode, I want to again say thanks to all those listeners and subscribers who’ve “liked” and left comments on the CS FB page.
I’d also like to say how appreciative I am to those who’ve gone to the iTunes subscription page for CS and left a positive review. We’ve developed a large listener base.
Any donation to CS is appreciated.
Finally, for interested subscribers, I want to invite you to take a listen to the sermon podcast for the church I serve; Calvary Chapel Oxnard. I teach expositionally through the Bible. You can subscribe via iTunes, just do a search for Calvary Chapel Oxnard podcast, or link to the calvaryoxnard.org website.
by Lance Ralston | Oct 5, 2014 | English |
This is part 4 of our series on the Crusades.
The plan for this episode, the last in our look at the Crusades, is to give a brief review of the 5th thru 7th Crusades, then a bit of analysis of the Crusades as a whole.
The date set for the start of the 5th Crusade was June 1st, 1217. It was Pope Innocent III’s long dream to reconquer Jerusalem. He died before the Crusade set off, but his successor Honorius III was just as ardent a supporter. He continued the work begun by Innocent.
The Armies sent out accomplished much of nothing, except to waste lives. Someone came up with the brilliant idea that the key to conquering Palestine was to secure a base in Egypt first. That had been the plan for the 4th Crusade. The Crusaders now made the major port of Damietta their goal. After a long battle, the Crusaders took the city, for which the Muslim leader Malik al Kameel offered to trade Jerusalem and all Christian prisoners he held. The Crusaders thought the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II was on his way to bolster their numbers, so they rejected the offer. Problem is, Frederick wasn’t on his way. So in 1221, Damietta reverted to Muslim control.
Frederick II cared little about the Crusade. After several false starts that revealed his true attitude toward the whole thing, the Emperor decided he’d better make good on his many promises and set out with 40 galleys and only 600 knights. They arrived in Acre in early Sept. 1228. Because the Muslim leaders of the Middle East were once again at odds with each other, Frederick convinced the afore-mentioned al-Kameel to make a decade long treaty that turned Jerusalem over to the Crusaders, along with Bethlehem, Nazareth, and the pilgrim route from Acre to Jerusalem. On March 19, 1229, Frederick crowned himself by his own hand in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.
This bloodless assumption of Jerusalem infuriated Pope Gregory IX who considered control of the Holy Land and the destruction of the Muslims as one and the same thing. So the Church never officially acknowledged Frederick’s accomplishments.
He returned home to deal with internal challenges to his rule and over the next decade and a half, the condition of Palestine’s Christians deteriorated. Everything gained by the treaty was turned back to Muslim hegemony in the Fall of 1244.
The last 2 Crusades, the 6th and 7th, center on the career of the last great Crusader; the king of France, Louis IX.
Known as SAINT Louis, he combined the piety of a monk with the chivalry of a knight, and stands in the front rank of all-time Christian rulers. His zeal revealed itself not only in his devotion to religious ritual, but in his refusal to deviate from his faith even under the threat of torture. His piety was genuine as evidenced by his concern for the poor and the just treatment of his subjects. He washed the feet of beggars and when a monk warned him against carrying his humility too far, he replied, “If I spent twice as much time in gambling and hunting as in such services, no one would find fault with me.”
The sack of Jerusalem by the Muslims in 1244 was followed by the fall of the Crusader bases in Gaza and Ashkelon. In 1245 at the Council of Lyons the Pope called for a new expedition to once again liberate the Holy Land. Though King Louis lay in a sickbed with an illness so grave his attendants put a cloth over his face, thinking he was dead, he rallied and took up the Crusader cross.
Three years later he and his French brother-princes set out with 32,000 troops. A Venetian and Genoese fleet carried them to Cyprus, where large-scale preparations had been made for their supply. They then sailed to Egypt. Damietta once again fell, but after this promising start, the campaign turned into a disaster.
Louis’ piety and benevolence was not backed up by what we might call solid skills as a leader. He was ready to share suffering with his troops but didn’t possess the ability to organize them. Heeding the counsel of several of his commanders, he decided to attack Cairo instead of Alexandria, the far more strategic goal. The campaign was a disaster with the Nile being chocked with bodies of slain Crusaders. On their retreat, the King and Count of Poitiers were taken prisoners. The Count of Artois was killed. The humiliation of the Crusaders had rarely been so deep.
Louis’ fortitude shone brightly while suffering the misfortune of being held captive. Threatened with torture and death, he refused to renounce Christ or yield up any of the remaining Crusader outposts in Palestine. For the ransom of his troops, he agreed to pay 500,000 livres, and for his own freedom to give up Damietta and abandon the campaign in Egypt.
Clad in garments given by the sultan, in a ship barely furnished, the king sailed for Acre where he stayed 3 yrs, spending large sums on fortifications at Jaffa and Sidon. When his mother, who acted as Queen-Regent in his absence, died—Louis was forced to return to France. He set sail from Acre in the spring of 1254. His queen, Margaret, and the 3 children born them in the East, returned with him.
So complete a failure might have been expected to destroy all hope of ever recovering Palestine. But the hold of the crusading idea upon the mind of Europe was still strong. Popes Urban IV and Clement III made renewed appeals, and Louis once again set out. In 1267, with his hand on a crown of thorns, he announced to his assembled nobles his purpose to go a 2nd time on a holy crusade.
In the meantime, news from the East had been of continuous disaster at the hand of the “Mohammaden” enemy (as they called Muslims) and of discord among the Christians. In 1258, 40 Venetian vessels engaged in battle with a Genoese fleet of 50 ships off Acre with a loss of 1,700 souls. A year later the Templars and Hospitallers held forth in a pitched battle, not with the Muslims, but each other. Then in 1268, Acre, greatest of the Crusader ports, fell to the Muslims Mamelukes.
Louis set sail in 1270 w/60,000 into disaster. Their camp was scarcely pitched on the site of ancient Carthage when plague broke out. Among the victims was the king’s son, John Tristan, born at Damietta, and King Louis himself. His body was returned to France and the French army disbanded.
By 1291, what remained of the Crusader presence in the Holy Land was finally uprooted by Muslim control.
Those more familiar with the history of the Crusades may wonder why I’ve neglected to mention the disastrous Children’s Crusade of 1212, inserted between the 4th and 5th Crusades. The reason I’ve decided to mostly skip it is because historians have come to doubt the veracity of the reports about it. It seems now more apocryphal than real, conflated from several disparate reports of groups that wandered around Southern Europe looking to hop on to another campaign to capture Jerusalem. The story goes that a French or German child of 10 years had a vision in which he was told to go to the Middle East and convert the Muslims by peaceful means. As he shared this vision and began his trek to Marseilles, other children joined his cause, along with some adults of dubious reputation. As their ranks swelled, they arrived at the French coast, expecting the seas to part and make a way for them to cross over to the Middle East on dry land. Never mind that it was a trip of hundreds of miles. Anyway, the waters failed to part, and the children, most of them anyway, ended up dispersing. Those who didn’t were rounded up by slavers who promised to transport them to the Holy Land, free of charge. Once they were aboard ship though, they were captives and were hauled to foreign ports all over the Mediterranean where they were sold off.
As I said, while the Children’s Crusade has been considered a real event for many years, it’s recently come under scrutiny and doubt as ancient records were examined closely. It seems it’s more a product of cutting and pasting various stories that took place during this time. The children were in fact bands of Europe’s landless poor who had nothing better to do than wander around Southern France and Germany, waiting for the next Crusade to be called so they could go and hopefully participate in the plunder of the rich, Eastern lands.
I want to offer some commentary now on the Crusades. So, warning, what follows is pure opinion.
For 7 centuries Christians have tried to forget the Crusades, but critics and skeptics are determined to keep them a hot issue. While Jews and Muslims have (mostly rightly, I think) used the Crusades for generations as a point of complaint. In more recent time, New Atheists like Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris have raised them like a crowbar and beaten Christians over the head with them. Isn’t it interesting that these God-deniers have to first assume Biblical morality to then deny it? If they were consistent with their own atheistic beliefs they’d have to find some other reason to declaim the Crusades than that it’s wrong to indiscriminately kill people. Why, according to their Darwinist evolutionary, Survival of the Fittest motif, shouldn’t they in fact applaud the Crusades? After all, they were advancing the cause of evolution by getting rid of the weaker elements of the race.
But no! The New Atheists don’t use this line of reasoning because it’s abhorrent. Instead, they have to first don a belief in Christian morality to attack Christianity. Talk about being hypocritical.
And let’s get our facts straight. The 20th Century saw more people killed for political and ideological reasons than all previous centuries combined! Between the Communists, Nazis, and Fascists, well over 100 million were killed. Stalin, Hitler, and Mao Zedong were motivated by an atheistic agenda, one rooted in a social application of Darwinism.
Karl Marx, the ideological father of Communistic socialism, applied Darwin’s evolutionary ideas to society and turned human beings into mere parts of a vast machine called the State. Anyone deemed a cog instead of a gear was to be removed so the machine could run as the leaders wanted. In the name of Communism, Stalin killed at least 20 million; Mao, about 70 million!
Adolf Hitler was inspired by the atheist Fredrick Neizsche’s Darwinian concept of the ubermensche = the superman; humanity’s next evolutionary step. He justified the killing of 10 million saying the Final Solution was simply removing those who would hinder humanity’s evolution. He employed an entire army of science-minded killers who believed it was right and good to rid the world of “human weeds” as they called Jews, Slavs, homosexuals and the infirm.
It takes a colossal ignorance of history to neglect this. Yet the New Atheists ignore the facts because they destroy their premise that atheism has the moral high ground.
As calculated by historical evidence, the Crusades, Inquisition and witch trials killed about 200,000 in all over a period of 500 years. Adjusting for population growth, that would be about a million in today’s terms. That’s just 1% of the total killed by Stalin, Mao and Hitler; and they did it in a few decades!
So, let’s keep the Crusades, as brutal as they were, and as utterly contrary to the nature and teaching of Christ as they were, in the proper historical perspective. No! I’m not justifying them. They were totally wrong-headed! To turn the cross into a sword and slay people with it is blasphemous and deserves the loud declamation of the Church.
But let’s not forget that the Crusaders were human beings with motives not unlike our own. Those motives were mixed and often in conflict. The word crusade comes from “taking the cross,” after the example of Christ. That’s why on the way to the Holy Land the crusader wore the cross on his breast. On his journey home, he wore it on his back.
But the vast majority of those who went crusading were illiterate, even most of the nobles. They weren’t taught the Bible as Evangelicals are today. People throughout Europe thought salvation rested IN THE CHURCH and was doled out by priests at the direction and discretion of the Pope. So if the Pope said Crusaders were doing God’s work, they were believed. When priests broadcast that dying in the holy cause of a Crusade meant they’d bypass purgatory and gain immediate access to heaven, thousands grabbed the nearest weapon and set off.
For Urban and the popes who followed him, the Crusades were a new type of war, a Holy War. Augustine had laid down the principles of a “just war” centuries before. Those principles were . . .
- A Holy War was conducted by the State;
- Its purpose was the vindication of justice, meaning the defense of life and property;
- And its code called for respect for noncombatants; civilians and prisoners.
While these principles were originally adopted by the Crusaders when they set out on the 1st Campaign, they evaporated in the heat of the journey and reality of battle.
The Crusades ignited horrible attacks on Jews. Even fellow Christians were not exempt from rape and plunder. Incredible atrocities befell the Muslim foe. Crusaders sawed open dead bodies in search of gold.
As the Crusades progressed, the occasional voice was lifted calling into question the propriety of such movements and their ultimate value. At the end of the 12th C, the abbot Joachim complained that the popes were making the Crusades a pretext for their own advancement.
Humbert de Romanis, general of the Dominicans, in making out a list of matters to be handled at the Council of Lyons in 1274, was obliged to refute no less than 7 well-known objections to the Crusades. They included these 4 . . .
- It was contrary to the precepts of the NT to advance religion by the sword;
- Christians may defend themselves, but have no right to invade the lands of another;
- It is wrong to shed the blood of unbelievers;
- And the disasters of the Crusades proved they were contrary to the will of God.
Christians in Europe during the 14th and 15th Cs were to face far more pressing problems than a conquest of the Holy Land. So while there was still an occasional call for one, it fell on deaf ears.
Erasmus, writing at the close of the Middle Ages, made an appeal for the preaching of the Gospel as a way to deal with Muslims. He said the proper way to defeat the Turks was by conversion, not annihilation. He said, “Truly, it is not meet to declare ourselves Christian men by killing very many but by saving very many, not if we send thousands of heathen people to hell, but if we make many infidels Christian; not if we cruelly curse and excommunicate, but if we with devout prayers and with our hearts desire their health, and pray unto God, to send them better minds.”
The long-range results of 2 centuries of crusading were not impressive. If the main purpose of the Crusades was to win the Holy Land, to check the advance of Islam, and heal the schism between the Eastern and Western Churches, they failed spectacularly.
For a time, the 4 Crusader kingdoms held a beach-head on the Mediterranean coast of the Holy Land. In them, three semi-monastic military orders formed: the Templars, whose first headquarters were on the site of the old Temple of Jerusalem; the Hospitallers, also known as the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, originally founded to care for the sick and wounded; and the Germanic Teutonic Knights. These orders combined monasticism and militarism and had as their aims the protection of pilgrims and perpetual war against Muslims. They fielded 500 armed knights. Their great castles guarded the roads and passes against attack. For 2 centuries the Templars in their white robes decorated with a red cross, the Hospitallers in black robes emblazoned with the white Maltese cross, and the Teutonic Knights in white robes with a black cross were common sights in Crusader States and across Europe.
While the Crusades seem to us today a terrible betrayal of Biblical Christianity, we must bring the historian’s mindset to them and consider them against the times in which they occurred. This doesn’t excuse them, but it does make them a bit more understandable.
European society of the Middle Ages was ir-redeemably warlike. In feudal Europe, the whole economic and social system depended on the maintenance of a military; the knights, permanent professional soldiers; by necessity due to the cost involved, noblemen whose only profession was fighting. The city-states of Italy were frequently at war. In Spain, a line was drawn across the map for centuries by the presence of the Muslim Moors. So even if Christians had wanted to create a peaceful society, it would have been socially and practically difficult to do.
One way of dealing with this was to idealize warfare. That is, casting war as a contest between good and evil. In the development of the idea of the Christian knight, there was an attempt to give the spiritual battle a corresponding literal application. The knight was a ‘soldier of Christ’, a warrior for good. At a time when priests and monks were deemed the only ones able to make contact with God, the Crusades were a way for laypeople to enter the spiritual realm and rack up some serious points with God. Priests fought the good fight by prayer; now laymen could fight as well, with a sword, mace, or if that’s all they could afford, a pitchfork, until they got to the battlefield where hopefully they’d find a more suitable weapon.
So it was important for medieval Christians to convince themselves the war they were fighting was justified. A sophisticated system of identifying a ‘just’ war developed. Augustine had said a good deal about this, explaining that someone whose property or land was stolen is entitled to get it back, but that this was different from warfare designed to enlarge one’s territory. The underlying principle was that reasonable force could be used to maintain order.
The late 11th C saw the arrival of a new thought; not Augustine’s “Just War,” but the concept of “Holy War”, one God called His people to fight to restore Christian control to the Holy Land. This was war which could not only be regarded as ‘justified’, and the sins committed in the course of it forgiven, but meritorious. God would reward those who fought it. Guibert of Nogent, in his book The Acts of God through the Franks, explained how to identify a Holy War. It wasn’t motivated by the desire for fame, money or conquest. Its motive was the safeguarding of liberty, the defense of the State and the protection of the Church. He considered this kind of warfare a valid alternative to being a monk.
This idea was so engaging to the Medieval mind that as the 12th C wound on it had to be discouraged as it seemed everyone began seeing knighthood and combat as spiritual warfare. Bullies have always been able to villainize those they want to victimize. They justified their brutality by calling it a divine mission. So priests and theologians emphasized not all fighting came under the same umbrella. Crusading was special.
Of course, one of the major tenets of Muslim theology is jihad, Holy War to spread the faith. Despite loud protests by some today, the fact remains that the Islam Mohammad taught, which of course is true Islam, endorses jihad. How else did it spread from its desert base in Arabia across the Middle East, North Africa, and into Europe in such a short time if not by the power of the scimitar?
I find it interesting that modern Muslims decry the Crusades when it was their own bloody campaigns that took the lands the Crusaders sought to what? RECLAIM! How could they RECLAIM something what wasn’t CLAIMED and conquered by the Muslims previously? I say it again: This in no way justifies the Crusades. They’re an indefensible period of Church history that stands as a dark stain. But let’s be clear; if they’re a stain on Church history, the conquests by the Muslims that predate the Crusades are just as dark.
by Lance Ralston | Sep 28, 2014 | English |
This episode of CS is part 3 of our series on The Crusades.
A major result of the First Crusade was a further alienation of the Eastern and Western Churches. The help provided Byzantium by the crusaders were not what The Eastern Emperor Alexius was hoping for.
It also resulted in an even greater alienation of the Muslims than had been in place before. 200 years of crusading rampages across the Eastern Mediterranean permanently poisoned Muslim-Christian relations and ended the spirit of moderate tolerance for Christians living under Muslim rule across a wide swath of territory. The only people who welcomed the Crusaders were a handful of Christian minorities who’d suffered under Byzantine and Muslim rule; the Armenians and Maronites living in Lebanon. The Copts in Egypt saw the Crusades as a calamity. They were now suspected by Muslims of holding Western sympathies while being treated as schismatics by the Western Church. Once the Crusaders took Jerusalem, they banned Copts from making pilgrimage there.
Things really went sour between East and West when the Roman church installed Latin patriarchates in historically Eastern centers at Antioch and Jerusalem. Then, during the 4th Crusade, a Latin patriarch was appointed to the church in Constantinople itself.
To give you an idea of what this would have felt like to the Christian of Constantinople; imagine how Southern Baptists would feel if a Mormon bishop was installed as the President of the Southern Baptist Convention. You get the picture = No Bueno.
Another long-lasting effect of the Crusades was that they weakened the Byzantine Empire and hastened its fall to the Ottoman Turks a couple centuries later. Arab governments were also destabilized leaving them susceptible to invasion by Turks and Mongols.
A significant new development in monastic history was made at this time in the rise of the knightly monastic orders. The first of these was the Knights Templar, founded in 1118 under Hugh de Payens. King Baldwin gave the Templars their name, and from them the idea of fighting for the Temple passed to other orders. Bernard of Clairvaux, although not the author of the Templar rule, as legend has it, did write an influential piece called In Praise of the New Militia of Christ which lauded the new orders of knights.
The Templars were imitated by the Hospitallers, who had an earlier origin as a charitable order. They’d organized in 1050 by merchants from Amalfi living in Jerusalem to protect pilgrims. They provided hospitality and care of the sick, and helped morph the word “hospitality” into “hospital.” Under Gerard in 1120, the Hospitallers gained papal sanction. Gerard’s successor was Raymond de Provence who reorganized the Hospitallers as a military order on the pattern of the Knights Templar. The Hospitallers, also known as the Knights of St. John eventually moved to the islands of Rhodes, then Malta, where they held out in 1565 in a protracted siege against the Turks in one of history’s most significant battles.
Another important military order, the Teutonic Knights arose in 1199, during the 3rd Crusade.
The knightly monastic orders had certain features in common. They viewed warfare as a devotional way of life. The old monastic idea of fighting demons, as seen in the ancient Egyptian desert hermits, evolved into actual combat with people cast as agents of evil. Spiritual warfare became actual battle. Knights and their attendants took the vows similar to other monks. They professed poverty, chastity, and obedience, along with a pledge to defend others by force of arms. While personal poverty was vowed, using violence to secure wealth was deemed proper so it could be used to benefit others, including the order itself. The Templars became an object of envy for their immense wealth.
In studying the relations between Christianity and Islam during the Middle Ages, we should remember there were many peaceful interchanges. Some Christians advocated peaceful missions to Muslims. These peaceful encounters can be seen in the exchange of art. Christians highly valued Muslim metalwork and textiles. Church vestments were often made by Muslim weavers. Such a vestment is located today at Canterbury. It contains Arabic script saying, “Great is Allah, and Muhammad is his prophet.”
On the positive side, if there was anything positive to be gleaned from the Crusades, it did promote a greater sense of unity in Western Europe. Remember that one of the reasons Pope Urban sparked the Crusade was to vent the violent habits of the European nobles who were constantly at each other’s throats. Instead of warring with each other back and forth across Europe, watering its fields with blood, they united to go against infidels “way over there.”
The Crusades also led to increased prestige for the papacy as they were able to mobilize huge numbers of people. The Crusades also stimulated an intellectual revival in Europe as Crusaders returned with new experiences and knowledge from another part of the world.
After the 1st Crusade, over the next 60 years, Jerusalem saw a succession of weak rulers while the Muslims from Damascus to Egypt united under a new dynasty of competent and charismatic leaders. The last of these was Saladin, or, more properly, Salah ad-Din. Founder of the Ayyubid dynasty of Islam, he became caliph in 1174 and set out to retake Jerusalem.
The king of Jerusalem at the time was (and warning: I’m going to butcher this poor guy’s name) Guy de Lusignan. Let’s just call him “Guy.” He led the Crusaders out to a hill on the West of the Sea of Galilee called the Horns of Hattin. Both the Templars and Hospitallers were there in force, and the much vaunted “true cross” was carried by the bishop of Acre, who himself was clad in armor. On July 5, 1187, the decisive battle was fought. The Crusaders were completely routed. 30,000 perished. King Guy, the leaders of the Templars and Hospitallers along with a few other nobles were taken prisoner. Saladin gave them clemency. The fate of the Holy Land was decided.
On Oct. 2, 1187, Saladin entered Jerusalem after it made brave resistance. The generous conditions of surrender were mostly creditable to the chivalry of the Muslim commander. There were no scenes of savage butchery as followed the entry of the Crusaders 90 years before. The people of Jerusalem were given their liberty if they paid a ransom. Europeans and anyone else who wanted to, were allowed to leave. For 40 days the procession of the departing continued. Relics stored in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher were redeemed for the sum of 50,000 bezants. Named after Byzantium where they were the medium of exchange, the bezant was a gold coin of 5 grams.
Thus ended the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem. Since then the worship of Islam has continued on Mount Moriah without interruption. The other European conquests of the 1st Crusade were then in danger from the unending feuds of the Crusaders themselves, and, in spite of the constant flow of recruits and treasure from Europe, they fell easily before Saladin.
He allowed a merely ceremonial Latin ruler to hold the title King of Jerusalem but the last real king was Guy, who was released, then travelled around claiming the title of king but without a court or capital. He eventually settled in Cyprus.
We’ll go into less detail for the rest of the Crusades as we finish them off over the next episode .
The 2nd Crusade was sparked by 2 events; the Fall of the Crusader state of Edessa in Syria and the preaching of Bernard of Clairvaux. And note that the 2nd Crusade took place BEFORE the arrival of Saladin on the scene.
Edessa fell to the Turks in Dec., 1144. They built a fire in a large breach they’d made in the city wall. The fire was so hot it cracked a section of the wall a hundred yards long. When the wall collapsed, the Turks rushed in and unleashed the same kind of brutality the Crusaders had when they conquered Jerusalem.
Pope Eugenius III saw the Turk victory at Edessa as a threat to the continuance of the Crusaders in Palestine and called upon the king of France to march to their relief. The forgiveness of all sins and immediate entrance into heaven were promised to all embarking on a new Crusade. Eugenius summoned Bernard of Clairvaux to leave his abbey and preach the crusade. Bernard was the most famous person of his time and this call by the Pope came at the zenith of his fame. He regarded the Pope’s summons as a call from God.
On Easter in 1146, King Louis of France vowed to lead the Crusade. The Pope’s promise of the remission of sins was dear to him as he was stricken with guilt for having burned a church with 1300 inside. How grand to be able to gain forgiveness by killing more! He assembled a council at Vézelai at which Bernard made such an overpowering impression by his message that all present pressed forward to take up the crusading cause. Bernard was obliged to cut his own robe into small fragments, to give away to all who wanted something of his they could carry to the East. He wrote to Pope Eugenius that the enthusiasm was so great “castles and towns were emptied of their inmates. One man could hardly be found for 7 women, and the women were being everywhere widowed while their husbands were still alive.” Meaning most of the men set off on the Crusade, leaving the population of France with 7 women to every man. Hey – lucky them!
From France, Bernard went to Basel, in modern day Switzerland, then up thru the cities along the Rhine as far as Cologne. As in the 1st Crusade, persecution broke out against the Jews in this area when a monk named Radulph questioned why they needed to go to the Middle East to get rid of God-haters and Christ-killers. There were plenty of them in Europe. Bernard objected vehemently to this. He called for the Church to attempt to win the Jews by discussion and respect, not killing them.
Bernard was THE celebrity of the day and thousands flocked to hear him. Several notable miracles and healings were attributed to him. The German Emperor Konrad III was deeply moved by his preaching and convinced to throw his weight to the Crusade.
Konrad raised an army of 70,000; a tenth of whom were knights. They assembled at Regensburg and proceeded thru Hungary to the Bosporus. All along their route they were less than welcome. Konrad and the Eastern Emperor Manuel where brothers-in-law, but that didn’t keep Manuel from doing his best to wipe out the German force. The guides he provided led the Germans into ambushes and traps then abandoned them in the mountains. When they finally arrived at Nicea, famine, fever and attacks had reduced the force to a tenth is original size.
King Louis set out in the Spring of 1147 and followed the same route Konrad had taken. His queen, Eleanor, famed for her beauty and skill as a leader, along with many other ladies of the French court, accompanied the army. The French met up with what was left of Konrad’s force at Nicea.
The forces then split up into different groups which all reached Acre in 1148. They met King Baldwin III of Jerusalem and pledged to unite their forces in an attempt to conquer Damascus before retaking Edessa. The siege of Damascus was a total failure. The European nobles fell to such in-fighting that their camp fragmented into warring groups. Konrad left for Germany in the Fall of 1148 and Louis returned to France a few months later.
Bernard was humiliated by the failure of the Crusade. He assigned it to the judgment of God for the sins of the Crusaders and Christian world.
A little more about King Louis’s wife Eleanor. Eleanor of Aquitaine was really something. In a world dominated by men, Eleanor’s career was something special. She was one of the wealthiest and most powerful people in Europe during the Middle Ages.
Eleanor succeeded her father as the ruler of Aquitaine and Poitiers at the age of 15. She was then the most eligible bride in Europe. Three months after her accession, she married King Louis VII. As Queen of France, she went on the 2nd Crusade. Then, with it’s defeat and back in France, she got an annulment from Louis on the basis that they were relatives, then married Henry Plantaget, Duke of Normandy and Count of Anjou, who soon became King Henry II of England in 1154. This despite the fact that Henry was an even closer relative than Louis had been and 9 years younger than she. They were married just 8 weeks after her annulment. Over the next 13 years Eleanor bore Henry 8 children: 5 sons, 3 of whom would become king, and 3 daughters. However, Henry and Eleanor eventually became estranged. She was imprisoned between 1173 and 1189 for supporting her son’s revolt against her husband.
Eleanor was widowed in July 1189. Her husband was succeeded by their son, Richard I, known as the Lion-hearted. As soon as he ascended the thrown, Richard had his mother released from prison. Now the queen dowager, Eleanor acted as regent while Richard went on the 3rd Crusade. She survived Richard and lived well into the reign of her youngest son John, known as the worst king in England’s long history. It’s this King John who’s cast as the chief villain in the story of Robin Hood.
The 3rd Crusade is referred to as the Kings’ Crusade due to the European monarchs who participated in it. It was an attempt to reconquer the Holy Land from the Muslims who, under Saladin, had reclaimed the lands the Crusaders took in the 1st Crusade. The 3rd was for the most part successful but fell short of its ultimate goal, the re-conquest of Jerusalem.
When Saladin captured Jerusalem in 1187, the news rocked Europe. The story goes that Pope Urban III was so traumatized, he died of shock. Henry II of England and Philip II of France ended their dispute with each other to lead a new crusade. When Henry died 2 years later, Richard the Lionheart stepped in to lead the English. The elderly Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa also responded to the call to arms, and led a massive army across Turkey. Barbarossa drowned while crossing a river in June, 1190 before reaching the Holy Land. His death caused great grief among the German Crusaders. Most were so discouraged they returned home.
After driving the Muslims from the port of Acre, Frederick’s successor Leopold V of Austria and King Philip of France left the Holy Land in August 1191, leaving Richard to carry on by himself. Saladin failed to defeat Richard in any military engagements, and Richard secured several key coastal cities. But the English King realized a conquest of Jerusalem wasn’t possible to his now weakened force and in September of 1192, made a treaty with Saladin by which Jerusalem would remain under Muslim control, but allowed unarmed Christian pilgrims and merchants to visit the city. Richard departed the Holy Land a month later.
The successes of the 3rd Crusade allowed the Crusaders to maintain a considerable kingdom based in Cyprus and along the Syrian coast. Its failure to recapture Jerusalem led to the call for a 4th Crusade 6 years later.
The 3rd Crusade was yet another evidence of the European’s inability to form an effective union against the Muslims. The leaders and nobility of Europe made great promises of unity when they embarked on a Crusade, but the rigors of the journey, along with the imminent prospect of victory saw them more often than not falling out with each other in incessant and petty squabbles.
On Richard’s journey back to England he was seized by the afore mentioned Leopold, duke of Austria, whose enmity he’d incurred in the battle for the city of Joppa. The duke turned his captive over to the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry VI who also had a grudge to settle. The Lionheart was released on the humiliating terms of paying an enormous ransom and consenting to hold his kingdom as a fiefdom of the Empire. It’s this hostage taking of Richard the Lionhearted that forms the backdrop for the tale of Robin Hood.
Saladin died in March, 1193, by far the most famous of the foes of the Crusaders. Christendom has joined with Arab writers in praise of his courage, culture, and the magnanimous manner in which he treated his foes.
Historians debate how many Crusades there were. It wasn’t as though Kings Henry and Philip said, “Hey, let’s make nice and launch the 3rd Crusade.” They didn’t number them as historians have since. History tends to ascribe 9 as the number of Crusades, but then add 2 more by assigning them with names instead of numbers; the Albigenian and the Children’s Crusades, which took place between the 4th and 5th Crusades.
Generally, the 5th thru 9th Crusades are considered lesser armed movements while the first 4 are called the Great Crusades.
We’ll finish with a quick review of the 4th Crusade.
Innocent III became Pope in 1198. He called for the 4th Crusade which was the final blow that forever sundered the Western and Eastern churches, though that was certainly never his aim. In fact, he warned the Crusaders against it.
Pope Innocent’s plan was simply to destroy a Muslim military base in Egypt. The merchants of Venice had promised to supply the Crusaders with ships at a huge discount; one the Crusaders couldn’t pass up. So in the summer of 1202, they arrived in Venice expecting to sail to Egypt. But there was a problem: Only a third of the expected number of warriors showed. And they came up with a little more than half the required sailing fee.
A prince from the East offered to finance the balance under one condition: That the Crusaders sail first to Constantinople, dethrone the current Emperor and hand it over to him. They could then sail on their merry way to Egypt. Pope Innocent forbade this diversion, but no one paid him any attention.
On July 5th, 1203, the Crusaders arrived in the Eastern capital. The people of Constantinople were by now fed up with Europeans meddling in their affairs and formed a counter revolution that swept the current emperor off the throne, but only so they could install their own fiercely anti-Crusader ruler. Being now shut out of his hopes, the would-be emperor who’d paid the Crusaders way to Constantinople refused to pay their way to Egypt, leaving them stranded in increasingly hostile territory.
They were furious. Their leaders decided to try and make the best of it and called for a quick plundering of Constantinople. One of the Crusade chaplains proclaimed; in complete disregard for the Pope’s wishes, “If you rightly intend to conquer this land and bring it under Roman obedience, all who die will partake of the pope’s indulgence.” That was like letting a rabid dog off its chain. For many of the Crusaders, this was not only an excuse to get rich by taking loot, it meant a license to do whatever they pleased in Constantinople.
On Good Friday, 1204, the Crusaders, with red crosses on their tunics, sacked Constantinople. For 3 days, they raped and killed fellow Christians. The city’s statues were hacked to pieces and melted down. The Hagia Sophia was stripped of its golden vessels. A harlot performed sensual dances on the Lord’s Table, singing vile drinking songs. One Eastern writer lamented, “Muslims are merciful compared with these men who bear Christ’s cross on their shoulders.”
Neither the Eastern Empire nor Church ever recovered from those 3 days. For the next 60 years Crusaders from the Roman church ruled what was once the Eastern Empire. The Eastern emperor established a court in exile at Nicaea. Rather than embrace Roman customs, many Eastern Christians fled there. There they remained until 1261, when an Eastern ruler retook Constantinople.
by Lance Ralston | Sep 21, 2014 | English |
Episode 55 – The Crusades, Part 2
As Bruce Shelly aptly states in in his excellent book Church History in Plain Language, for the past 700 years Christians have tried to forget the Crusades, though neither Jews nor Muslims will let them. Modern Christians want to dismiss that era of Church History as the insane bigotry of the illiterate and superstitious. But to do so is to show our own kind of bigotry, one neglectful of the historical context of the European Middle Ages.
The Crusaders were human beings, who like us, had mixed motives often in conflict. The word crusade means to “take up the cross,” hopefully after the example of Christ. That’s why on the way to the Holy Land crusaders wore the cross on their chest. On their return home they wore it on their back. [1]
In rallying the European nobility to join the First Crusade, Pope Urban II promised them forgiveness of past sins. Most of them held a deep reverence for the land Jesus had walked. That devotion was captured later by Shakespeare when he has King Henry IV say:
We are impressed and engag’d to fight …
To chase those pagans in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet,
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail’d,
For our advantage on the bitter cross.
For Urban and later popes, the Crusades were a Holy War. Augustine, whose theology shaped the Medieval Church, laid down the principles of a “just war.” He said that it must be conducted by the State; its broad purpose was to uphold an endangered justice, which meant more narrowly that it must be defensive to protect life and property. In conducting such a just war there must be respect for noncombatants, hostages, and prisoners. And while all this may have been in the mind of Pope Urban and other church leaders when they called the First Crusade, those ideals didn’t make it past the boundary of Europe. Once the Crusaders arrived in the East, the difficulties of their passage conspired to justify in their minds the wholesale pillaging of the innocent. Even those who’d originally taken up the Crusader cross with noble intent, didn’t want to be left out of acquiring treasure once the looting began. After all, everyone else is doing it?
As we return to our narrative of the First Crusade, let’s recap …
What triggered the Crusade was a request for assistance from Byzantine emperor Alexios I Komnenos. Alexios worried about the advances of the Muslim Seljuk Turks, who’d reached as far west as Nicaea, a suburb of Constantinople. In March 1095, Alexios sent envoys to the Council of Piacenza to ask Pope Urban II for aid against the Turks. Urban’s reply was positive. It’s likely he hoped to heal the Great Schism of 40 yrs before that had sundered Western and Eastern churches.
In the Summer of 1095, Urban turned to his homeland of France to recruit for the campaign. His journey ended at the Council of Clermont in November, where he gave an impassioned sermon to a large audience of French nobles and clergy, detailing the atrocities committed against pilgrims and Christians living in the East by the Muslims.
Malcolm Gladwell wrote a bestseller in 2000 called The Tipping Point. The Pope’s speech was one of those, an epic tipping point that sent history in a new direction. Urban understood what he proposed as an act so expensive, long, and arduous that it amounted to a form of penance capable of discharging all sins for those who went crusading. And he understood how his audience’s minds worked. Coming from a noble house himself and having worked his way up through the ranks of the monastery and Church, he understood the puzzle that lay at the heart of popular religious sentiment. People were keenly aware of their sinfulness and sought to expunge it by embarking on a pilgrimage, or if that wasn’t possible, to endow a monk or nun so they could live a life of sequestered holiness on their behalf. But their unavoidable immersion in the world meant it was impossible to perform all of the time-consuming penances which could keep pace with their ever-increasing catalog of sin. Urban saw that he could cut the Gordian knot by prescribing a Crusade. Here at last was a way for men given to violence, one of the most grievous of their misdeeds, to USE it as an act of penance. Overnight, those who were the most in need of penance became the very ones most likely to be the cause of the Crusade’s success.
While there are different versions of Urban’s sermon, they all name the same basic elements. The Pope talked about the need to end the violence the European knights continued among themselves, the need to help the Eastern Christians in their contest with Islam, and making the pathways of pilgrims to Jerusalem safe again. He proposed to do this by waging a new kind of war, an armed pilgrimage that would lead to great spiritual and earthly rewards, in which sins would be remitted and anyone who died in the contest would bypass purgatory and enter immediately into heaven’s bliss.
The Pope’s speech at Clermont didn’t specifically mention liberating Jerusalem; the goal at first was just to help Constantinople and clear the roads to Jerusalem. But Urban’s later message as he travelled thru Europe raising support for the Crusade, did include the idea of liberating the Holy City.
While Urban’s speech seemed impromptu, it was in fact well-planned. He’d discussed launching a crusade with two of southern France’s most important leaders who gave enthusiastic support. One of them was at Clermont, the first to take up the cause. During what was left of 1095 and into 96, Pope Urban spread the message throughout France and urged the clergy to preach in their own regions and churches throughout Europe.
Despite this planning, the response to call for the Crusade was a surprise. Instead of urging people to JOIN the campaign, bishops had to dissuade certain people from joining. Women, monks, and the infirm were forbidden, though many protested their exclusion. Some did more than protest; the defied officials and made plans to go anyway. When Pope Urban originally conceived the crusade, he envisioned the knights and nobility leading out trained armies. It was a surprise when thousands of peasants took up the cause.
What was the bishop to say to these peasants when they indicated their intent to go? “You can’t. You have to stay and tend your fields and herds.” When the peasants asked why, the bishops had no good answer, so they formed companies and set off. The clergy was forced to give grudging permission. They gathered local groups of peasants and had them take a vow of devotion to the Holy Cause, setting as their destination, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.
Alongside the enthusiasm of the peasants, Urban courted the nobility of Europe, especially in France, to lead the Crusade. Knights from both northern and southern France, Flanders, Germany, and Italy were divided into four armies. Sadly, they often saw themselves in competition with each other rather than united in a common cause. They vied for prominence in bringing glory to God; oh, and of course, the loot that went along with it.
While it was the scion of the noble houses that led a few of the armies, the bulk of the knights were lesser sons of the nobility whose only route to wealth lay in conquest. The eldest brother was set to inherit the family name and estate. So hundreds of these younger sons saw the Crusades as a way to make a name for themselves and carve out their own domain in newly acquired lands. If they didn’t return to Europe laden with treasure, they hoped to settle down on land they’d won with the sword.
One of the many sad results of the spin-up for the First Crusade was the persecution of Jews in Northern France and the Rhineland. Anti-Semitism bubbled beneath the surface of this region for generations. It spilled over now as peasants and commoners mobilized to remove the infidels form the Holy Land. Some began to question why a trip to the Middle East was needed when there were Christ-haters living right at hand. So Jews were attacked, their homes burned, businesses sacked.
As we saw in our last episode, the peasants formed into bands and rampaged their way across Europe to Constantinople. They lacked the discipline and supplies of the knights so they foraged their way East like Sherman on his march to the Sea during the American Civil war. Though we don’t know the numbers, thousands of these peasant crusaders were killed along the way as armed defenders came out to oppose their trek across their lands.
When they finally arrived in Constantinople, they were hurriedly escorted across the Bosporus in August of 1096. At that point they split into two groups. One tried to recapture Nicaea but failed when the Turks surrounded and wiped them out. The other group was ambushed and massacred in October.
This phase of the First Crusade is called The People’s Crusade because it was made up of btwn 20 and 30,000 commoners. Its leadership include some minor nobles but its most visible leader was the odd Peter the Hermit.
Peter’s leadership of The People’s Crusade was due to his fiery recruitment sermons. He wasn’t so skilled in the tactical management of 30,000 would-be warriors. Once they arrived in Constantinople, his lack of administrative skill became obvious and the handful of knights who’d joined up realized they need to take control. But they refused to submit to one another and fragmented into different groups based on nationality. This lack of leadership proved fatal. They lost control of their so-called army which set to looting the homes and towns of Eastern Christians. The German contingent managed to seize a Seljuk city and the French began agitating for their leaders to do likewise. A couple Turkish spies spread a rumor in the French camp that the Germans were marching on Nicaea. So the French rushed out to beat them to it. While passing thru a narrow valley, they were wiped out by waiting Seljuk forces.
A remnant made it back to Constantinople where they joined up with the knights who were just then, at the end of the Summer, arriving from Europe. This force formed into contingents grouped around the great lords. This was the kind of military force Pope Urban II and the Emperor Alexius had envisioned.
The Crusaders realized they had to conquer and occupy Antioch in Syria first or a victory over Jerusalem would be short-lived. They took the city, but then barely survived a siege laid in by the Turks. Breaking the siege in the Spring of 1099, the leaders of the Crusade ended their quarrels and marched South. Their route took them along the coast to Caesarea, where they headed inland toward their goal. They arrived in the vicinity of Jerusalem in early June.
By that time the army was reduced to 20,000. The effect of seeing the Holy City for the first time was electrifying. These men had fought and slogged their way across thousands of miles, leaving their homes and cultures to encounter new sights, sounds and tastes. And every step of the way, their goal was Jerusalem—the place where Jesus had lived and died. Accounts of that moment say the warriors fell on their knees and kissed the sacred earth. They removed their armor and in bare feet w/tears, cried out to God in confession and praise.
A desperate but futile attack was made on the City five days later. Boiling pitch and oil were used by Jerusalem’s defenders, with showers of stones and anything else they could get their hands on that would do damage. Then the Crusaders set a siege that took the usual course. Ladders, scaling towers, and other siege-engines were built. The problem is, they had to travel miles to get wood. The trees around Jerusalem had all been cut down by the Roman General Titus twelve centuries before. They’d never grown back.
The City was surrounded on 3 sides by Raymund of Toulouse, Godfrey, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy. It was a hot Summer and the suffering of the besiegers was intense as water was scarce. Soon, the valleys and hills around the city walls were covered w/dead horses, whose rotting carcasses made life in camp unbearable.
Someone got the brilliant idea to duplicate Joshua’s battle plan at Jericho. So the Crusaders took off their shoes and with priests leading, began marching around Jerusalem, hoping the walls would fall down. Of course, they didn’t. I wonder what they did with the guy who came up with the idea. Help at last came with the arrival of a fleet at Joppa harbor from Genoa carrying workmen and supplies who went to work building new siege gear.
The day of the final assault finally arrived. A huge tower topped by a golden cross was dragged up to the walls and a massive plank bridge was dropped so the Crusaders could rush from tower to the top of the wall. The weakened defenders couldn’t stop the mass of warriors who flooded into their City.
The carnage that followed is one more chapter in the many such scenes Jerusalem has known.
Once they’d secured the City, the blood-splattered Crusaders paused to throw God a bone. Led by Godfrey, freshly changed into a suit of white linen, the Crusaders went to the church of the Holy Sepulcher and offered prayers and thanksgiving. Then, devotions over, the massacre recommenced. Neither the tears of women, nor the cries of children, did anything to halt to terror. The leaders tried to restrain their troops but they’d been let off the chain and were determined to let as much blood out of bodies as possible.
When it was finally over, Muslim prisoners were forced to clear the streets of the bodies and blood to save the city from pestilence.
Remember Peter the Hermit, who’d lead the peasant army to disaster? He made it to Jerusalem before returning to Europe where he founded a monastery and died in 1115.
Pope Urban II also died just 2 weeks after the fall of Jerusalem, before the news reached him.
Looking back, it’s clear the First Crusade came at probably the only time it could have been successful. The Seljuk Turks had broken up into rival factions in 1092. The Crusaders entered into the region like a knife before a new era of Muslim union and conquest opened. That’s what those newly arrived Crusaders would now have to face.
Just eight days after capturing Jerusalem, a permanent government was set-up. It was called “The Kingdom of Jerusalem.” Godfrey was elected king, but declined the title of royalty, unwilling to wear a crown of gold where the Savior had worn a crown of thorns. He adopted the title Baron and Defender of the Holy Sepulcher.
From the moment of its birth, the Kingdom of Jerusalem was in trouble. Less than a year later they made an appeal to the Germans for reinforcements. And Godfrey survived the capture of Jerusalem by only a year. He was buried in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where his sword and spurs are still on display. On his tomb is the inscription: “Here lies Godfrey of Bouillon, who conquered all this territory for the Christian religion. May his soul be at rest with Christ.”
Rome immediately moved to make The Kingdom of Jerusalem part of it’s region of hegemony. The archbishop of Pisa, Dagobert, who’d been a part of the Crusade, was elected to be Jerusalem’s Patriarch.
The new rulers turned from conquest to defense and governing. They tried to layer the feudal system of Europe onto Middle Eastern society. The conquered territory was distributed among Crusader barons, who held their possessions under the king of Jerusalem as overlord. The four chief fiefs were Jaffa, Galilee, Sidon, and east of the Jordan River, a region called Kerat. The counts of Tripoli and Edessa and the prince of Antioch were independent of Jerusalem but were closely allied due to the nearby Muslim menace.
The Crusader occupation of Israel was far from peaceful. The kingdom was torn by constant intrigues of civil rulers and religious clerics. All that while it faced unending threats from without. But it was the inner strife that was the main cause of weakness. Monks settled in swarms all over the country. The Franciscans became guardians of the holy places. The offspring of the Crusaders by Moslem women, called pullani, became a blight as they were given over to unrelenting greed and the most grotesque immorality.
When Godfrey died, he was succeeded by his brother Baldwin, count of Edessa. Baldwin was intelligent and the most active king of Jerusalem. He died after eight years; his body laid next to his brother’s.
During Baldwin’s reign, the kingdom grew significantly. Caesarea fell to the Crusaders in 1101, then Ptolemais in 1104. Beirut in 1110. But Damascus never fell to the Crusaders. With the progress of their arms, they built castles all over their holdings in the Middle East. The ruins of those fortifications stand today and are premier tourist sites.
Many of the Crusaders, who began the adventure planning to return to Europe, decided rather to stay once the work of conquest was finished. One wrote, “We who were Westerners, are now Easterners. We have forgotten our native land.” Other Crusaders did return to Europe, only to return later. Even several European kings spent long stays in the Holy Land.
During Baldwin’s reign most of the leaders of the First Crusade either died or went home. But their ranks were continually replenished by fresh expeditions from Europe. Pope Pascal II, successor to Urban II, sent out a call for recruits. The Italian cities furnished fleets, and coordinated with land forces. The Venetians, Pisans, and Genoese established quarters of their own in Jerusalem, Acre, and other cities. Thousands took up the Crusader cause in Lombardy, France, and Germany. They were led by Anselm, archbishop of Milan, Stephen, duke of Burgundy, William, duke of Aquitaine, Ida of Austria, and others. Hugh who’d gone home, returned. Bohemund also came back with 34,000. Two Crusader armies attacked the Islamic stronghold at Bagdad.
Baldwin’s nephew, also named Baldwin, succeeded his uncle and reigned for 13 years, till 1131. He conquered the strategic city of Tyre on the coast. It was 1124 and that marked the high-water point of Crusader power.
Over the next 60 yrs, Jerusalem saw a succession of weak rulers while the Muslims from Damascus to Egypt were uniting under a new band of competent and charismatic leaders. The last of these was Saladin. He became caliph in 1174 and set out to retake Jerusalem.
But that’s for our next episode . . .
[1] Shelley, B. L. (1995). Church history in plain language (Updated 2nd ed.) (187–188). Dallas, Tex.: Word Pub.
by Lance Ralston | Sep 14, 2014 | English |
Episode 54 – The Crusades – Part 1
In the first episode of Communio Sanctorum, we took a look at the various ways history has been studied over time. In the Ancient world, history was more often than not, propaganda. The old adage that “History is written by the winners” was certainly true for the ancients. With the implementation of the Scientific Method in the Modern Era, the researching and recording of history became more unbiased and accurate. It was far from a pure report, but it could no longer be considered blatant propaganda. The Post-Modern Era has seen a return to bias; this time an almost knee-jerk suspicion of ALL previous attempts at recording history. Even attempts of Modernity to document history are suspect and assumed guilty of recording little more than the bias of the authors, though their works were footnoted and peer-reviewed. Post-modern critics adopt a presupposition all recorded history is fabrication, especially if there’s anything heroic or virtuous. If it’s a dark tale of hopelessness and tragedy, well, then, maybe it can be accepted. It’s almost as though Post-moderns want to make up for the ancient historians’ penchant for propaganda. Post-Moderns cast history as “neg-paganda” if I can coin a word.
Let’s attempt a shedding of our bias, even though we can’t fully do that, as we look at the Crusades. Instead of layering onto the Christians of Europe in the 11th and 12th Cs the sensibilities of people who live a thousand years later, let’s attempt to understand the reasoning behind the idea of taking up a pitchfork or sword and making a life-altering trip over hundreds of miles, through strange lands, to risk one’s life for è What? Oh yeah, to rid the Holy Land of pagan infidels.
Wait; Mr. Crusader-person; have you ever been to the Holy Land? Do you own land there that’s been stolen? Do you have relatives or friends there you need to protect? Have you ever met one of these infidels? Do you know what they believe or why they invaded?
No? Then why are you so amped about marching half-way around the world to liberate a land you’ve not been all that interested in before from a people you know nothing about?
See? There must have been some powerful forces at work in the minds and hearts of the people of Europe that they’d go in such large numbers on a Crusade. We may find their reasons for crusading to be horribly ill-conceived, but they were totally sold out to them.
The Crusades reflected a new dynamism in the Christianity of Medieval Europe. People were driven by religious fervor, a yearning for adventure, and of course if some personal wealth could be thrown in, all the better. For 200 years, Crusaders tried to expel the Muslims from the Holy Land. It seems all the colorful figures of this era were caught up in the cause, from Peter the Hermit in the 1st Crusade, to the godly Louis IX, King of France, who inspired the 6th and 7th.
Many Europeans of the medieval period viewed a pilgrimage as a form of especially poignant penance. These pilgrimages were usually trips to a local holy place or shrine erected to commemorate a miracle or to cathedrals where the relics of some saint were kept in a reliquary. But there was one pilgrimage that was thought to gain a special dose of grace – a trip to the Holy City of Jerusalem. The merchants of Jerusalem did a good business in keeping the constant flood of Christian pilgrims supplied with food, lodging and of course sacred mementos. Some pilgrims went by themselves; others in a group—ancient versions of the modern day Holy Land Tour. When pilgrims arrived in Jerusalem they’d make the rounds of all the traditional points of interest. They walked the Via Dolorosa to Calvary then sat for hours praying. When these pilgrims returned home, they were esteemed by their community as real saints; towering figures of spirituality.
For centuries, peaceful pilgrims traveled from Europe to Palestine. The arrival of Islam in the Middle East in the 7th C didn’t interfere. By the 10th C European bishops organized mass pilgrimages to the Holy Land. The largest we know of set out from Germany in 1065, with some 7,000 ! That’s a lot of buses.
To impede a pilgrim’s journey was considered by the medieval Church as a serious breach of protocol because you endangered the pilgrim’s salvation. If his pilgrimage was penance for some sin, you might deny him pardon by your altering his course. The mind-set of European Christians became one of extreme care to not interfere with Pilgrims once they’d set out.
All of this faced a major problem in the 11th C when a new Muslim force took control of the Middle East. The Seljuk Turks, new and fanatical converts to Islam, came sweeping in to plunder the region. They seized Jerusalem from their fellow Muslims, then moved north into Asia Minor.
The Byzantine Empire tried desperately to stop their advance, but at the Battle of Manzikert in 1071 the Turks captured the eastern emperor and scattered his army. Within a few years nearly all Asia Minor, the chief source of Byzantine wealth and troops, was lost, and the new Byzantine emperor sent frantic appeals to the West for help. He pleaded with Europe’s nobility and the Pope, seeking mercenaries to aid in the rescue of lost territory.
Then, reports began to trickle back about the abuse of Christian pilgrims on the Turkish controlled roads to Jerusalem. The trickle turned to a stream, the a river. Even when pilgrims weren’t mistreated, they were subject to heavy fees to travel thru Muslim lands.
The standard, brief description of the inception of the First Crusade goes like this … In 1095, the Eastern Emperor Alexius I sent an urgent appeal for help against the Muslims to Pope Urban II. The Pope responded by preaching one of history’s most influential sermons. In a field near Clermont, France he said to the huge crowd that had gathered, “Your Eastern brothers have asked for your help. Turks and Arabs have conquered their territories. I, or rather, the Lord begs you, destroy that vile race from their lands!”
But there was more to Urban’s appeal than just liberating the East from infidel hordes. He also mentioned the European need for more land. He said, “For this land which you inhabit is too narrow for your large population; nor does it abound in wealth; and it furnishes scarcely food enough for its cultivators. Hence it is that you murder and devour one another, enter upon the road to the Holy Sepulcher; wrest that land from the wicked race, and subject it to yourselves.”
Popes and bishops were accustomed to making such bold proclamations and issuing stirring appeals. They were nearly always met by loud “Amens!” and affirmations of the rightness of their call. Then people went home to lunch and promptly forgot all about what they’d just heard. So the response to Urban’s sermon that day was astonishing. The crowd began to chant, “Deus vult = God wills it!” But they did more than chant. People across the entire socio-economic spectrum of Europe began preparations to do precisely what the Pope had said è Go to Jerusalem and liberate it from the Muslims. They sewed crosses onto their tunics, painted them on their shields, fired up the smithies and made swords, spears and maces. Commoners who couldn’t afford armor or real weapons, made clubs and sharpened sticks.
They were going to go on a new kind of pilgrimage. Not as humble worshippers but as armed warriors. Their enemy wasn’t the world, the flesh and the devil; it was the Muslim infidel defiling the Holy Places.
As the Pope ended his impassioned appeal to the loud affirmation of the crowd, he declared their slogan Deus Vult! would be the crusader battle cry in the coming campaign.
The pilgrims agreed to make their way east any way they could, gathering at Constantinople. Then they’d form into armies and march south toward the enemy.
The First Crusade was underway.
As word spread across France and Germany of the holy mission, people from across all social levels were caught up in Crusader fervor. A similar excitement was seen in the California and Yukon Gold Rushes. It’s not difficult to understand why. We need to be careful here because removed by a thousand years we can’t presume to know the motivations that shaped every Crusader’s actions, even though there are not a few historians who claim to be able to do so. Surely motives were mixed and diverse. Some, out of simple obedience to the Church and Pope, believed it was God’s will to expel the Muslims from the Holy Land. Being illiterate peasants, they couldn’t read the Bible or know God’s will on the matter. They believed it was the Pope’s duty to tell them what God willed and trusted him to do it. When the Pope declared anyone who died in the holy cause would bypass purgatory and enter directly into heaven, all the incentive needed to go was provided for thousands who lived in the constant fear of ever being good enough to merit heaven.
Another powerful incentive was the opportunity for wealth. Medieval Europe was locked in a rigid feudalism that kept the poor in perpetual poverty. There was simply no rising above the social level one was born into. A Crusade offered a chance at the unthinkable. The loot of a successful campaign could bring great wealth, even to a peasant. And those who returned gained a reputation as a warrior that could see them and their sons raised into positions of relative honor in a noble’s army.
The risks were great; but the benefits both tangible and significant. So thousands took up the crusader cause.
The problem for the thousands of peasants who wanted to go was that no noble would lead them. On the contrary, the nobles wanted their serfs to stay home and tend their fields and farms. But the Pope’s appeal had gone out to all and no noble wanted to be seen as contradicting the Church. So they just hoped no one would rise to lead them. It was one of those moments of profound leadership vacuum that just begged to be filled; who filled it was a man known as Peter the Hermit.
Of all the Crusaders, Peter surely had the strongest scent. The monk had not bathed in decades. He rode a donkey that, eyewitnesses said, bore a remarkable resemblance to its owner. Peter’s preaching was even more powerful than his odor. In 9 months, he gathered 20,000 peasants under his banner, then began the long and difficult trek east to Constantinople.
They created chaos as soon as they arrived. Complaints of robbery poured into the Emperor’s office. He knew these Western European peasants were no match for the Muslims, but he couldn’t let them camp out in his city. They were ferried across the river where they immediately began pillaging the homes of Eastern Christians. Many of these poor, uneducated and illiterate peasants had come for loot and saw plenty of it right there. They’d already travelled a long way from home and were now among a people who spoke a different language, wore different styles and ate different foods. “Why, they don’t look like Christians at all! And what’s that you say? These people don’t follow the Pope? Well, then maybe they aren’t Christians. Didn’t we set out to fight unbelievers? Here are some. Let’s get to work.”
“But these aren’t Muslims!”
“Okay. We’ll compromise. We won’t kill them; we’ll just take their stuff.”
Peter’s peasant army put additional strain on the already poor relations between the Eastern and Roman churches. Two months later, the peasants marched straight into a Muslim ambush and were wiped out. Peter, who was in Constantinople rounding up supplies—was the lone survivor. He then joined another army, this one led by European nobility who arrived well after the peasants. These Crusaders defeated the Muslims at Antioch then continued on to Jerusalem.
The Muslims failed to take this second movement of the Crusade seriously. It’s not difficult to understand why. They’d just defeated a huge force of Europeans easily. They assumed they’d do the same to the smaller force that came against them now. What they didn’t realize was that this force, while indeed smaller, was the cream of Europe’s warrior class; mounted and armored knights who grew up on battle.
On July 15, 1099, Jerusalem fell to the Crusaders. It was a brutal massacre. Around the Temple Mount, blood flowed ankle-deep. Newborn infants were thrown against walls. It wasn’t just Muslims who knew the Crusaders’ wrath. A synagogue was torched, killing the Jews trapped inside. Some of the native Christians were also put to the sword. To this day, the wholesale slaughter of the First Crusade affects how Jews and Muslims perceive the Christian faith.
But — and this in no wise is meant to be a justification for the brutality of the Crusades; it seems just a tad hypocritical for Muslims to decry the atrocities of the Crusades when it was by the very same means they’d laid claim to the holy land in the 7th C. In truth, while crusading under the Christian cross is a horrible violation of the morality of Biblical Christianity—Jihad, Holy War is one of the main tenets of Islam. Long before the Pope erroneously offered absolution to Crusaders and the promise of heaven to those who died in the campaign, Islam promised paradise to Muslims who died in Jihad. Historically, while the Christian faith has spread by the work of humanitarian missionaries, Islam has spread by the sword. Or we might say, while true Christianity expands by the sword of the Spirit, Islam spreads by a sword of steel.
Following the conquest of Jerusalem, the Crusaders carved out four states in the Middle East; the Kingdom of Jerusalem, the County of Tripoli, the Principality of Antioch, and the County of Edessa.
This First crusade was followed by eight more, none of them really able to accomplish the success of the first, if we can call it success. All told, the gains of the Crusades lasted less than 200 years. But one major accomplishment was the reopening of international trade between Europe and the Far East, something that had languished for a few hundred years.
The Crusades have proven to be the focus of much historical study and debate. They’re usually linked to the political and social situation in 11th C Europe, the rise of a reform movement within the papacy, and the political and religious confrontation of Christianity and Islam in the Middle East. The Umayyad Caliphate had conquered Syria, Egypt, and North Africa from the predominantly Christian Byzantine Empire, and Spain from the Arian Christian Visigoths. When the Ummayads collapsed in North Africa, several smaller Muslim kingdoms emerged and attacked Italy in the 9th C. Pisa, Genoa, and Catalonia battled various Muslim kingdoms for control of the Mediterranean.
The Crusaders were emboldened in their prospects for success in the Holy Land because of the successes they’d had in the Reconquista, the conquest of the Muslom Moors in the Iberian Peninsula. Earlier in the 11th C, French knights joined the Spanish in their campaign to retake their homeland. Shortly before the First Crusade, Pope Urban II encouraged the Spanish Christians to reconquer Tarragona, using much of the same symbolism and rhetoric he later used to preach Crusade to the people of Europe.
Western Europe stabilized after the Saxons, Vikings, and Hungarians were brought into the Church by the end of the 10th C. But the demise of the Carolingian Empire gave rise to an entire class of warriors who had little to do but fight among themselves. The incessant warfare sapped Europe of its strength and wealth. Europe needed an external enemy they could turn their wrath on. As we saw in a previous episode, while the violence of knights was regularly condemned by the Church, and there was the attempt to regulate them in the treaties known as the Peace and Truce of God, the knights largely ignored these attempts at pacification. The Church needed an external threat they could direct the knights lust for battle toward.
It was also at this time that the Popes were in constant competition with the Western emperors over the issue of investiture – the question of who had the authority to appoint bishops; the Church or the nobility. In some of the squabbles between Church and State, the popes weren’t above calling out knights and nobles loyal to them to back down the power of the Emperor and recalcitrant nobles. So the Pope’s mobilizing an armed force wasn’t that far out of context.
Another reason Pope Urban called for the First Crusade may have been his desire to assert control over the East. Remember that the Great Schism had occurred 40 years before and the churches had been rent ever since. While historians suggest this as one of several reasons driving Pope Urban’s decision to start the Crusade, there’s no evidence from any of his letters this factored into his plans.
Until the crusaders’ arrival, the Byzantines had continually fought the Muslim Turks for control of Asia Minor and Syria. The Seljuks, Sunni Muslims, had at one time ruled the Great Seljuk Empire, but by the First Crusade it had divided into several smaller states at odds with each other. If the First Crusade and been waged just a decade before it would probably have been crushed by a united Seljuk force. But by the time they arrived in the Middle East, the Seljuks were at odds with each other.
Egypt and most of Palestine was controlled by the Arab Shi’ite Fatimid Caliphate, which was far smaller since the arrival of the Seljuks. Warfare between the Fatimids and Seljuks caused great disruption for the local Christians and western pilgrims. The Fatimids lost Jerusalem to the Seljuks in 1073, then recaptured it in 1098 just before the arrival of the Crusaders.
As I said at the outset of this episode, this is just a summary of the First Crusade. Because this is such a crucial moment in Church History, we’ll come back to it in our next episode.
As we end, I want to once again say, “Thanks” to all the kind comments and those who’ve given the CS Facebook page a like.
Every so often I mention that CS is supporter solely by a few subscribers. You can probably tell the podcast is your typical sole-author, “guy, a mic, and a computer” arrangement. I’m so thankful for those who occasionally send in a donation to keep CS going.
by Lance Ralston | Sep 7, 2014 | English |
This episode of CS is, “Crazy Stuff” because . . . we’ll you’ll see as we get into it.
A short while back, we took at look at the Iconoclast Controversy that took place in the Eastern, Greek Orthodox church during the 8th & 9th Cs.
While we understand the basic point of controversy between the icon-smashers, called iconoclasts, and the icon-supporters, the iconodules; the theology the iconodules used to support the on-going use of icons is somewhat complex.
The iconoclasts considered the veneration of religious images as simple idolatry. The iconodules developed a theology that not only allowed, it encouraged the use of icons while avoiding the charge of idolatry. They said such images were to be respected; venerated even – but not worshiped. Though, for all practical purposes, in the minds of most worshipers, there was no real difference between veneration & the adoration of worship.
The acceptance of icons as intrinsic to worship marked the entrance of a decidedly mystical slant that entered the Orthodox Church at this time, and has remained ever since. All of this was seen in the career of an author now known as PSEUDO-DIONYSIUS the Areopagite. He’s called Pseudo-Dionysius because while we know his writings were produced in the early 6th C in Syria, they claim to have been written by the 1st C Dionysius mentioned in Acts 17 who came to faith when Paul preached on the Mars Hill in Athens.
Pseudo-Dionysius’ most famous works were titled The Divine Names, Mystical Theology, & The Celestial Hierarchy. The Monophysite Christians of Alexandria were the first to draw inspiration from his work, supposing them to be genuine works of one of the Apostle Paul’s disciples. The Byzantines followed suit & incorporated some of his ideas. Then, in 649 when Pope Gregory I and the Lateran Council accepted them as dating to the 1st C, they became more widely looked to as informing Christian theology.
Pseudo-Dionysius’ writings merged Christianity w/Neo-Platonism. He saw the universe as divided into a hierarchy of spirits and believed the Church ought to be organized in a similar way as this spiritual hierarchy. Where Pseudo-Dionysius deviated from the Neo-Platonists was in his rejection of the idea that the goal of each human individual was to lose their individuality by re-uniting with the Creator. He went 180 degrees the other way and said it was the individual’s goal to grow through mystical moments of revelation so that the person emerged into a divine state; more god-like than human. Pseudo-Dionysius taught that these mystical moments were bursts of revelation that brought enlightenment and advanced the soul’s journey to a near-deity. But they weren’t moments of revelation INTO divine knowledge so much as they were a stripping away of it. While early cults like the Docetists & Gnostics had made the acquisition of secret knowledge that imparted enlightenment the hallmark of their creed, Pseudo-Dionysius said knowledge stood in the way of enlightenment. The mind was a barrier to spiritual advancement, not a tool to attain it. He claimed the path to salvation, which he cast as “spiritual fulfillment,” proceeded through 3 stages—Purification, Illumination, and Union.
First, the seeker needed to strip him/herself of all earthly and fleshly entanglements. Then by extreme forms of meditation in which the goal was to wipe the mind clean, the special moment would arrive when the person would achieve illumination & realize their union with the divine. If this sounds a bit like Gnosticism and the esoteric offerings of Eastern religion, that’s because they are similar.
This synthesis of Christianity & Neo-Platonist concepts had a huge impact on Byzantine theologies of mysticism and liturgy, on Western mystics, scholastics & Renaissance thinkers. Pseudo-Dionysius’ writings were translated from Greek into Latin about 850.
They were rejected as inconsistent with the Bible by the Protestant Reformers and exposed as 6th Century forgeries when scholars dug into their origin. But their emphasis on the mystical had already done its damage in the Eastern Church which continued to hold onto many of Pseudo-Dionysius’ ideas. Even to this day, salvation in the Greek Orthodox Church means something rather different than it does in the Western Church, where it’s conceived as redemption from sin and reconciliation to God. In the Eastern Church, salvation is regarded as a return to a process of spiritual transformation enhanced by the Church; it’s priesthood, icons, and rituals, to a destiny that produces a being that is much more than human though not quite attaining to deity. The Eastern idea is that the Redeemed won’t be God, but will be certainly be god-like.
Now, this is an over-simplification, but may help make THE crucial distinction between the ways the Western and Eastern Churches understand salvation. The West sees the work of Christ primarily as Salvation FROM sin, while the East understands it as Salvation TO glory. Again—that’s a maybe gross reduction of the complex soteriology of the Eastern and Western theological traditions, but pretty accurate nonetheless. It’s all in where the emphasis is placed.
The Bible does say Adam and Eve were created in God’s image. And we know Christ came to restore what they lost in the Fall. Certainly, the redeemed in glory will appear as glorious creatures that dwarf the shades humans are now. We are, as one musical artist sang – like ghosts on the earth, compared to the glory that was once Adam’s & will be ours yet again. But in Greek Orthodox theology, salvation seems to be not just a restoration of what was lost so much as a promotion into something new; something even more glorious than the first man and woman enjoyed. Again, something above human if not quite divine.
And the emphasis on the mystical in the Eastern Church is all about how to make that leap, that spiritual form of evolutionary advance.
In 650, as Pseudo-Dionysius’ views were being heavily imbibed in the East, a church leader named Constantine (obviously not the Emperor of the 4th C) resurrected some of the errors of the Gnostics. Constantine and his followers rejected the formalism of the Byzantine State church, claiming a desire to return to the simplicity of the Early Church. We might respond; “Wait! In 650 they wanted to return to the dynamism of the early church? Isn’t THAT the early church? That was 1400 years ago!”
Constantine based his beliefs on the Gospels and letters of Paul alone. He claimed an evil deity inspired the rest of the NT and all the Old. In a reprise of Gnosticism, he claimed this evil deity was the creator and god of this world. The true God of heaven was opposed to the physical universe; that material world was unalterably evil. In order to save people’s spirits from the wickedness of the physical world, the true God sent an angel who appeared as a man named Jesus.
A little history taught church leaders how to shut down Constantine’s re-emergent Gnosticism. All they had to do was go back and read of the early church’s struggle with the Gnostics and how all these ideas were old hat with no basis in Scripture. While a few church leaders did just that and waged an apologetic battle with Constantine’s followers, the State Church persecuted & at times executed them.
Constantine changed his name to Silas, one of the Apostle Paul’s associates. After Constantine-Silas was stoned to death, the next leader of the sect took the name Titus, another of Paul’s assistants. When he was burned to death, a third leader took the name Timothy. The next adopted the name Tychicus. All this lead to the sect being called the Paulicians.
During the Iconoclast Controversy of the 8th C, the persecution of the Paulicians eased a bit. One of the Emperors may even have been a Paulician. But in the 9th C, the Empress Theodora ordered the Paulicians eradicated. Tens of thousands were killed, most in Armenia.
In reaction, the Paulicians formed armies which proved quite capable in battle. So, unable to conquer them outright, the Byzantines offered them independence if they’d move to the troubled border w/the Slavs & Bulgars giving the Empire grief.
The Paulicians ended up having a major religious impact on the Bulgars. These Bulgar-Paulicians became known as the Bogomils¸ named after their first leader. In the mid 10th C he taught that the first-born son of God was Satan. Because of Satan’s pride, he was expelled from heaven. God then made a new heaven and earth, in which he placed Adam and Eve. Satan had sex with Eve which union produced Cain, the source of all evil among humans. Moses and John the Baptist, according to the Bogomils, were both servants of Satan. But God sent the Logos, his second Son, Jesus to save humanity from the control of Satan. Although Satan killed Jesus, his spiritual body was resurrected and returned to the right hand of God. Satan was in this way defeated; or so said Bogomilism.
Some of our listeners may find all of this similar to another religious group headquartered today in a certain State of the US, that has great skiing during the winter and a capital located next to a large, salty inland sea. Turns out, Solomon was right; there really isn’t anything new under the sun.
The Bogomils adopted a rigidly ascetic life-style. They despised marriage, although they permitted it in the case of less-than-perfect believers. They condemned the eating of meat and the consumption of wine. They rejected baptism and communion as Satanic rituals since they used material things.
Bogomilism flourished in Bulgaria while it was an independent country in the 10th C, then again in the 13th. Bogomilian ideas spread to Western Europe where they influenced the Cathars and Albigensians. When the Turks destroyed the Bulgarian Empire in 1393, the Bogomils disappeared.
The Paulicians continued in minor enclaves in Armenia all the way into the 19th C. It’s possible that in some tiny corner of rural communities, Paulicianism continues to find adherents.
And now you see why I chose to title this episode, “Crazy Stuff.”
by Lance Ralston | Aug 31, 2014 | English |
This episode of Communio Sanctorum is titled, “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do.”
In our study of the History of the Church, we get to examine some periods when the followers of Jesus did some amazing, God-honoring, Christ-exalting, people-blessing things. In future episodes, we’ll take a longer look at how the Gospel has impacted history and world civilization for the better.
But, we have to be honest and admit there have been too many times when the Church totally fumbled the ball. Worse than that, after fumbling, they stepped on and kicked it out of bounds!
The danger I face as we deal with these atrocious moments in Church History is of being assumed to be hostile to the Body of Christ. When I speak about the abysmal career of some of the popes, some listeners assume I’m Catholic-bashing. Later, when we get to the Reformation era and take a look at some of the Reformers, I’ll be accused of being a closet-Catholic!
So I want to pause here and say à This isn’t a podcast about me, but I need to use me as an example . . .
As most of you know, I’m a non-denominational Evangelical pastor. I’m not a scholar, not even close. I’m just a guy who loves history and decided to share what he was learning about the history of the church with others because at the time CS began, there just wasn’t a short-format church history podcast available. While I genuinely try to be unbiased in presenting the story of the Church, it’s inevitable I’ll slant the narrative at points. I’ve already made it clear that when I do offer mere opinion, I’ll preface it with a warning, but infrequent side comments can still color the material. Even what adjectives I pick reveal bias.
While I aim to be faithful in my own walk with God, my role in my family as a husband and father, and my calling as a pastor, I freely admit I’m still a man in process. I have many faults and a long way to go to be conformed to Christ’s image. Keenly aware of how far I have to go is what causes me to wonder how God could use me! Yet use me He does, week after week, in my role as pastor. I’m such a flawed vessel, yet God keeps pouring His grace thru me. It’s humbling.
The point is this: While so much of Church History is flat-out embarrassing, God still uses the Church, still works by His Spirit through His people to accomplish His purposes. So when we see the Church stumble, regardless of what group it is, what era, what label is applied to those who mess up, let’s not white-wash, edit, or redact. Let’s tell it like it is; own it as part of our history, but remember that while man fails, God never does.
From the late 9th to 10th C the position of Roman bishop once held by such godly men as Popes Leo and Gregory was turned over to a parade of corrupt nobles who were anything but.
This was a time when the position of the pope was a plum political appointment, with the potential of gaining great wealth and power for the pope’s family. The intrigue surrounding the selection of the pope was vast and nefarious. An Italian heiress named Marozia [mah-RO-zee-ah], controlled the bishop’s seat at Rome for 60 years. She was one bishop’s mother, another’s murderer and a third’s mistress. In what just about everyone recognizes as a low point for the Papacy, Octavianus, Marozia’s grandson, celebrated his impending election as Pope John XII, by toasting the devil. Once in office, his behavior was far from saintly. The immorality that attended his term was legendary. Corruption of the office didn’t end with his death. Reform was desperately needed and many called for it. But one man’s reform is another’s loss of power and access to wealth.
Though the Western and Eastern halves of the Church had quarreled for centuries over minor doctrinal issues and who ought to lead the Church, they still saw themselves as one Body. That unity was doomed by many years of contention and the fragmenting of the world into conflicted regions brought about by the dissolving of the Roman Empire and constant invasion of outsiders. The emergence of Islam in the 7th C accelerated the break between East and West. We might assume the 2 halves of the old Empire would unite in face of the Islamic threat, and there were times when that seemed hopeful. But the reality was, Islam presented a threat across such a huge front, the various regions of Christendom ended up having to face the threat on their own.
Between the 9th and 13th Cs, three separate challenges split Christianity into 2 disparate camps. Like taps on a diamond, each furthered the emerging rift until finally the break came.
The first tap had to do with the Nicene Creed hammered out at the Council of Nicea all the way back in the early 4th C when Constantine was Emperor. In the 9th C, the Nicene Creed still stood as the standard formulation for how Christians in the East and West understood God. But the Spanish church added something they thought would make the creed clearer. The original creed stated, “The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father.” The revised creed of the Spanish church said, “The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son.”
This reflected the work on the Trinity that had been conducted by later Councils. Remember, the very first councils were consumed with understanding the nature of Jesus and settled on the doctrine He is both fully God and fully Man. They labored hard to find just the right words to say that. Then, they turned their attention to the issue of the Trinity, and after much labor settled on the wording that God is one in essence but three in person. For most people, that was enough, but theologians have minds that want to go further. They debated over how to understand the divinity of God. Who actually possessed deity; all three equally? Or did one possess it, then shared it with the others?
The Western Church centered held the idea divinity was co-equal and underived in Father, Son and Holy Spirit. But relationally the Son proceeds from the Father, and the Holy Spirit then proceeds from both Father and Son. This seemed to accurately reflect the subordinate missions assigned the 2nd and 3rd members of the Trinity in the Bible.
The Western Church adopted the revised Nicene Creed. The Eastern Church balked! Everyone agreed the Nicene Creed had been a work of the Spirit of God illuminating the minds of the Council to the Word of God. It was inviolable! How could Rome think to fiddle with it? And especially without consulting them? Why, at the Councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon, the Bishops committed themselves never to change the creed.
According to Eastern theologians, divinity dwelt only in the Father. The Father then shared the divine being with the Son and Spirit. They could not say the Spirit “proceeds from the Father and the Son.” If the Spirit arose from “the Father and the Son,” the Son would possess divine being co-equally with the Father.
While there had been potential doctrinal rifts before, the East and West had always been able to reach a consensus. That historic consensus became increasingly distant as this debate, known as the Filioque Controversy, raged. Filioque is Latin for “and the Son.”
In 867 Photius, bishop of Constantinople formally denounced the added phrase. Five years later, Pope Adrian II offered to drop the phrase “and the Son” from the Nicene Creed. Rome would drop the Filioque clause if the Eastern church accepted the Pope’s supremacy over the Church. Photius declined. >> Tap 1.
Get ready for Tap 2 …
One day in AD 1048, three shoeless pilgrims—Bruno, Humbert, and Hildebrand walked together through the gates of Rome. Each in his own way would transform the Roman church.
Bruno was elected Pope Leo IX. He immediately set about reforming the Roman church morally and theologically. To keep priests from passing ecclesiastical positions to their children, he demanded celibacy. Next, he moved to extricate the Church from secular entanglements and obligations to European nobility. Bruno and his successor popes really believed God had given them authority over all Christians.
The new bishop of Constantinople, Michael Cerularius, refused to recognize Bruno as Pope. He closed every church in Constantinople loyal to Rome. Bruno then sent envoys to Constantinople to negotiate peace. His chief envoy was his friend Humbert. Before leaving Rome, Humbert wrote a bold notice in the Pope’s name. This official church notice is called a bull. We get our word “bulletin” from it. A Bull was an authoritative announcement of intention to follow a particular course. It’s based in the authority of the person who writes it or whose name it bears.
Humbert made the journey from Rome to Constantinople, bull in hand. He arrived on July 16, 1054, marched into the Hagia Sophia while Communion was being observed. As one author says, Humbert’s notice was a lot like a Texas longhorn: It had a point here, a point there, and a lot of bull in between. Condemned in the bull were the Eastern practices of allowing priests to marry, refusing to recognize baptism performed in Roman churches, and deleting the Filioque.
For the record, the Roman church had allowed priests to marry for several centuries, the Eastern church did not refuse to recognize Roman baptism, and they absolutely did NOT DELETE the phrase” and the son” from the Creed – The Western Church had added it!
Humbert threw the bull on the Communion table, turned his back on the priest, and walked out, knocking the dust from his sandals and yelling “Let God judge!” A deacon picked up the bull and chased after Humbert, begging him to take it back. Humbert refused.
The Papal Bull was viewed by the Eastern Church as the proverbial gauntlet, thrown at their feet by the Pope. The options seemed clear; either submit to the Pope’s undisputed authority over the Church, or be considered by Rome a breakaway church.
Tap 2
The third and decisive tap that sundered East from West was the Crusades, specifically, the 4th. I need to make clear we’re only dipping a toe into the subject of the Crusades for now. They’re a major part of Church History we’ll spend a lot more time on in future episodes. For now, we’re only looking at how the Crusades served to split the Western and Eastern Churches.
But even before THAT, I’m compelled to remind everyone that when I refer to the Eastern Church, what I really mean is the Greek Orthodox or Byzantine Church; not the Church of the East we’ve looked at in earlier podcasts. For simplicity sake. Picture a map of the ancient world; that swath of the globe that includes to the far left, Spain and Northwest Africa, up thru England and Scotland. Now, put the Middle East with Mesopotamia in the center of that mental map, and at the far right, China and Japan.
Now, draw a mental oval over Spain, the British Isles, France, Germany, Italy, Scandinavia; shade it blue – That’s the Western Church, speaking Latin, and centered at Rome under the Popes.
Next, draw another oval over all East Europe and West Asia; shade it Green – That’s the Byzantine Church, speaking Greek and centered at Constantinople under the Patriarchs.
Finally, draw a 3rd oval over The Middle East, Mesopotamia, Persia, Central Asia, India, China and all the way to Japan. Shade it red – That’s the Nestorian Church of the East, that speaks mainly Syriac and is headquartered at Nisibis & Edessa under the leadership of the Metropolitans.
Note how much larger that 3rd sphere is. It covers a territory and population much larger than the two to its west combined. Yet in the popular review of Church History, this Church of the East is often neglected. The reason for that neglect is a subject for a later episode.
My point here is that when we speak of the break between the Eastern and Western Churches, let’s be sure we understand that the description of the Byzantine Church as the Eastern Church isn’t really accurate. It’s only a description of the Byzantine Church as being to the geographic East of the Western, Latin Church.
Now, back to our look at the 3rd tap that severed West from East . . .
As we’ve seen in previous episodes, penance played a major role in the religious life of Medieval Christians. Many believed they could prove themselves worthy of God’s favor by going on a “pilgrimage.” So pilgrims traveled to shrines containing the bones of saints and relics from the Biblical story. European cathedrals were centers where these sacred items were kept. But the greatest pilgrimage of all, one taken by not a few sincere believers was to Jerusalem. Even today with modern forms of transportation, a trip to Israel is a major event requiring special arrangements and a significant investment. Imagine what it meant for a pilgrim of the 10th or 11th C! They walked hundreds of miles, braved a risky voyage aboard a ship that traveled through stormy, pirate-infested seas. This was no Disneyland ride; there were real-deal pirates who’d slit your throat or sell you into slavery. Fun stuff.
Pilgrimages became such a fixture of medieval society, to impede a pilgrim’s journey was thought to imperil his/her salvation. So a whole trade developed in assisting pilgrims reaching their destination, whether it was some cathedral or holy shrine in Europe, or the great pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
From AD 638, Muslims controlled Jerusalem and the routes leading there. They required pilgrims to pay special fees. So in 1095 in France, Pope Urban II responded by preaching one of history’s most influential sermons. We’ll go into the details later. For now, just know he said, “Your Eastern brothers have asked for your help! Turks and Arabs have conquered their territories. I or, rather, the Lord begs you … destroy that vile race from your brothers’ lands!”
The response astounded both the Pope and Europe’s nobility. The crowd of commoners began to chant, “Deus vult = God wills it!” There was an immediate response of hundreds to go in relief of their imperiled brothers. As the days passed, the fervor spread and soon, nobles and serfs set off on the Great Pilgrimage to liberate Jerusalem from the infidels. They sewed crosses onto their tunics and painted them on their shields. Nobles forged new swords and spears while commoners grabbed whatever might make for a weapon and set off. They agreed to gather in Constantinople. The First Crusade was off and running.
Among the peasants that set out on the 1st Crusade was a large group who followed a monk known as Peter the Hermit. The swarthy monk had not bathed in decades. He rode a burro that, according to some bore a remarkable resemblance to its rider. Peter’s preaching was even more powerful than his odor. In 9 months, he gathered 20,000 European peasants to fight the Eastern infidel. They caused immediate chaos when they arrived in Constantinople. Complaints of robbery poured into the Emperor’s office. He knew the untrained peasants were no match for the Muslims who cut their teeth on conquest, but he couldn’t let them linger in his city. So he ferried them across the river where they began pillaging the homes of Eastern Christians, straining relations between the Byzantine and Roman churches. 2 months later, these peasants marched straight into an ambush. Peter, still in Constantinople begging for supplies, was the lone survivor. He joined another army, led by European nobility. These Crusaders clashed with the Muslims in Antioch, then continued on to Jerusalem.
On July 15, 1099, Jerusalem fell to the Crusaders. Near the Temple Mount, the blood flowed ankle-deep. Newborns were thrown against walls. Crusaders torched a synagogue and burned the Jews inside alive. To this day, this wholesale slaughter affects how Jews and Muslims perceive the Church.
A couple more Crusader campaigns were launched, then in 1198 a noble became Pope Innocent III. He inspired the 4th Crusade that would finally divide the Byzantine and Roman Churches.
The bottom line of the 4th Crusade is that it was more than anything, a commercial venture. The merchants of the powerful city-state of Venice agreed to supply the Crusaders with ships at the cost of 84,000 silver coins. They were then to sail to Egypt and destroy a key Muslim base that would open up trade. In the summer of 1202, the Crusaders arrived in Venice expecting to sail to Egypt. But there was a problem: Only one-third of the expected number of Crusaders showed up, and they came up with only 50,000 silver coins.
Not to worry, an ambitious Eastern prince who fancied himself someone who deserved a fate and station better than the one life had dealt him, offered to finance the crusade à get this: Under the condition the Crusaders sail to Constantinople FIRST and dethrone the current Emperor. Once that was done, they could be on their merry way. Pope Innocent III forbade the assault on Constantinople, but no one paid him any mind. On July 5, 1203, the Crusaders arrived in Constantinople. But the people of the city were quite over the mess these Europeans kept making of things and revolted. They pre-empted the Crusaders attempt to install their own emperor and instead selected a fiercely anti-Crusader ruler.
The Crusaders were furious. They’d set out to destroy Muslims in Egypt and saw their side trip to Constantinople as a brief diversion. Now, they were stranded in the Eastern Capital. With the promise of plunder the motive for their venture in the first place, they decided to go to town on those they now deemed their enemies – the people and city of Constantinople. One priest promised the Crusaders if they died in the now “holy cause” of sacking the city, they had the Pope’s blessing and would go immediately to heaven. The Pope had said no such thing; on the contrary, he’d forbidden the entire campaign. But people hear what they want, and the Crusaders took that priest’s announcement as a license to do whatever they pleased.
On Good Friday, 1204, with red crosses on their tunics, the Crusaders sacked Constantinople. For 3 days, they raped and killed fellow believers. The city’s statues were hacked to pieces and melted down. The Hagia Sophia was stripped of its treasures. A harlot performed sensual dances on the Lord’s Table, singing vile drinking songs. One writer lamented that the Muslims were more merciful than those who bore a cross on their garments.
Neither the Byzantine Empire nor Church recovered from those 3 horrible days. The Crusaders ruled the Eastern Empire for the next 60 years. The Eastern emperor set up a new capital in nearby Nicaea, to which many of the people of Constantinople fled. They remained there until 1261, when an Eastern ruler retook the City.
Pope Innocent III tried to prevent the fall of Constantinople, but no one had listened. Afterward, he attempted to reunite the churches, but it was too late. After the 4th Crusade, the Church was shattered into 2 communions. Today we know them as the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches.
And while there have been a few attempts to affect a reconciliation recently, the wight of history has served to keep them at odds.
by Lance Ralston | Aug 17, 2014 | English |
This episode is titled Icons.
Those with a rough outline of history know we’re coming up on that moment when the Eastern and Western branches of the Church split. The break wasn’t some incidental accident that happened without a lot of preparation. Things had been going sour for a long time. One of the contributing factors was the Iconoclast Controversy that split the Byzantine church in the 8th and 9th Cs.
While the Western Church went through monumental changes during the Middle Ages, the Eastern Church centered at Constantinople pretty much managed a holding pattern. It was the preservation of what they considered orthodoxy that moved Eastern Christians to view the Western Church as making dangerous and sometimes even heretical alterations to the Faith. The Eastern Church thought itself to now be alone in carrying the Faith of the Ecumenical Councils into the future. And for that reason, Constantinople backed away from its long-stated recognition that the Church at Rome was pre-eminent in Church affairs.
Another factor contributing to the eventual sundering of East from West was the musical chairs played for the Western Emperor while in the East, the Emperor was far more stable. Remember that while the Western Roman Empire was effectively dead by the late 5th Century, the Eastern Empire continued to identify itself as Roman for another thousand years, though historians now refer to it as the Byzantine Empire. At Constantinople, the Emperor was still the Roman Emperor, and like Constantine, the de-facto head of the Church. He was deemed by the Eastern Church as “the living image of Christ.”
But that was about to experience a major re-model in the brueha between the iconoclasts and iconodules; terms we’ll define a bit later.
The most significant controversy to trouble the Byzantine church during the European Middle Ages was over the use of religious images known as icons. That’s the way many modern historians regard what’s called the Iconoclast Controversy – as a debate over the use of icons. But as usual, the issue went deeper. It arose over the question of what it meant when we say something is “holy”.
The Church was divided over the question of what things were sufficiently sacred as to deserve worship. Priests were set apart by ordination; meaning they’d been consecrated to holy work. Church buildings were set apart by dedication; they were sacred. The martyrs were set apart by their deeds; that’s why they were called “saints” meaning set-apart ones. And if martyrs were saints by virtue of giving their lives in death, what about the monks who gave their lives à yet still lived? Weren’t they worthy of the same kind of honor?
If all these people, places and things were holy, were they then worthy of special veneration?
The holiness of the saints was endorsed and demonstrated by miracles, not just attributed to them while they lived, but also reported in connection with their tombs, relics; even images representing them. By the beginning of the 7th C, many cities had a local saint whose icons were revered as having special powers of intercession and protection. Notable examples were Saint Demetrius of Thessalonica, the Christ-icon of Edessa, and the miracle-working icon of Mary of Constantinople.
From the 6th C, both Church and government encouraged religious devotion to monks and icons. Most Christians failed to distinguish between the object or person and the spiritual reality they stood for. They fell into, what many regarded as the dreaded sin of idolatry. But before we rush to judgment, let’s take a little time to understand how they slipped into something Scripture clearly bans.
The use of images as help to religious devotion had strong precedent. In pagan Rome, the image of the Emperor was revered as if the Emperor himself were present. Even images of lesser imperial officials were occasionally used as stand-ins for those they represented. After emperors became Christians, the imperial image on coins, in court-houses, and in the most prominent places in the major cities continued to be an object of veneration and devotion. Constantine and his successors erected large statues of themselves, the remains of which are on display today. It was Justinian I who broke with tradition and instead erected a huge icon of Christ over the main gate of the palace at Constantinople. During the following century icons of Christ and Mary came to replace the imperial icon in many settings. Eventually under Justinian II in the early 8th C, the icon of Christ began to appear on coins.
While the use of images as accouterments to facilitate worship was generally accepted, there were those who considered such practice contrary to the Bible’s clear prohibition of idolatry. They weren’t against religious art per se; only it’s elevation into what they considered the realm of worship.
The debate over icons was really a kind of doctrinal epilogue to the Christological controversies of an earlier time. à
What was proper in depicting Christ and other Biblical persons?
Can Jesus even be represented, or is the attempt to a violation of His divinity?
Does making an image of Jesus enforce his humanity at the expense of his deity?
And when does art, used in the service of worship, to enhance or facilitate it, interfere with worship because the object or image becomes the focal point?
Though these questions may seem distant to those who hail from a modern Evangelical background, they may be able to get in touch with the challenge the Eastern Church of the 8th and 9th Cs faced by remembering back a little way to when some notable worship leaders raised concern about the modern worship scene with its fostering an environment of overblown emotionalism. Some phrased it as the “Worship of worship,” rather than God. Musical productions and concerts became events people turned out by the thousands for as they sought a spiritual thrill, a worship-high. One well-known composer of modern worship wrote a song that aimed to expose this trend called “The Heart of Worship.”
Though the medium was different, in some ways, the recent worship of worship concern was similar to the concern of the Byzantine iconoclasts. In the ancient Eastern Church, the medium was the art of images. The more recent controversy centered on the art of music.
By the 7th C, the most significant form of Eastern devotion was the cult of holy icons. While I could give a more technical definition or description of icons, let me keep it simple and say they were highly-stylized paintings made on wood. The images were of Jesus, Mary, saints, and angels. While there were primitive images used by Christians all the way back in the 1st C, we’d have to say Christian art began in earnest in the 3rd C. It was used either decoratively or depicted scenes from the Bible as a way to instruct illiterate believers.
As mentioned, since the people of the Eastern Empire were already accustomed to showing deference to portraits of the Emperor, it wasn’t much of a stretch to apply this to pictures of what were considered holy people. Since imperial portraits were often set off by draperies, people prostrated before them, burned incense and lit candles beside them, and carried them in solemn processions, it seemed inevitable that icons of the saints would receive the same treatment. The first Christian images known to have been surrounded by such veneration occurred in the 5th C. The practice became widely popular in the 6th and 7th. The reserve church leaders like Epiphanius and Augustine had shown toward the use of images at the end of the 4th C disappeared.
It’s important to realize that when it comes to icons and their use, there were really two tracks. One track was the way theologians justified or condemned them. The second track was that of the common people who had little interest in the fine points of theology involved in their use. The iconoclasts framed the issue from Track 2. They were skeptical of the illiterate masses being able to make a distinction between simply using an icon as a means to worship of what the image represented, and actual worship of the image itself. What seemed to prove their point was when some of these icons and religious relics were attributed with special powers to effect healing and work wonders.
Pro-icon Church leaders maintained a misunderstanding of icons ought not prohibit their use. That would err into mere pragmatism.
Emperor Leo III launched an attack on the use of icons in the first half of the 8th C. He was motivated by a concern the Church was engaging in the forbidden practice of idolatry, the very thing that had coast ancient Israel so much trouble. Perhaps the Eastern Empire’s humiliating losses over the previous century, as well as a terrible earthquake early in Leo’s reign, were evidence of divine judgment. If so, Leo was concerned the Empire would awaken to their peril, repent and amend their ways.
Of course, Leo didn’t come up with this on his own or out of the blue. There were many among the clergy and common people who questioned the use of icons as objects of religious devotion. But now with the Emperor’s backing, this group of Iconoclasts, as they were called, became more vocal. Antagonism toward the use of icons grew, especially along the eastern frontier that bordered Muslims lands. Muslims had long called Christians idolaters for their use of religious images. Leo grew up in that region and had served as governor of western Asia Minor among several iconoclast bishops.
The word iconoclast means a breaker or destroyer of icons because eventually, that’s what the Iconoclasts will do; smash, break and burn the icons.
After successfully repulsing the Muslim armies in their 2nd attack on Constantinople in 717, Emperor Leo III openly declared his opposition to icons for the 1st time. He ordered the icon of Christ over the Imperial Gate to be replaced with a cross. In spite of wide-spread rioting, in 730 Leo called for the removal and destruction of all religious icons in public places and churches. The iconodules, as supporters of icons were called, were persecuted.
In Rome, Pope Gregory III condemned the destruction of icons. The Emperor retaliated by removing Sicily, southern Italy and the entire western part of the Balkans and Greece from Rome’s ecclesiastical oversight, placing them under the Patriarchate of Constantinople. It was this, as much as anything, that moved the Pope to seek the support and protection of the Franks.
Leo’s son Constantine V not only continued his father’s iconoclastic policy, he furthered it. He convened a council in 754 at the imperial palace at Hiereia, a suburb of Constantinople. The iconoclasts regarded it as the 7th Ecumenical Council, though it was only the Patriarchate of Constantinople that attended.
Both iconoclasts and iconodules agreed that the divine in Jesus Christ could not be represented in pictures, but Jesus had 2 natures. The iconoclasts argued that to represent the human nature was to lapse into the dreaded Nestorianism but to represent both natures was to go against their distinction, which was the error of Monophysitism, and made an image of deity.
The iconodules replied that not to represent Jesus Christ was Monophysitism.
Note how these arguments illustrate the practice of debating new issues in terms of already condemned errors.
Against pictures of Mary and the saints, the iconoclasts reasoned that one cannot depict their virtues, so pictures were at best a vanity unworthy of the memory of the person represented. “Surely,” they said, “Mary and the saints would not WANT such images made!”
Other arguments by the iconoclasts were that the only true image of Jesus Christ is the Eucharist.
Supporters of icons used arguments that were most effectively articulated by John of Damascus, an Arab Christian who wrote in Greek. John was a monk at the monastery of St. Saba in Palestine where he became a priest and devoted himself to study of the Scripture and literary work. Being outside the realm of Byzantine control, he was safe from retaliation by the Emperor and iconoclastic officials.
John of Damascus was the most systematic and comprehensive theologian in the Greek church since Origen. His most important work is the Fountain of Knowledge, part three of which, titled On the Orthodox Faith, gives an excellent summary of the teaching of the Greek Fathers on the principal Christian doctrines. He also produced homilies, hymns, and a commentary on the NT letters of Paul. John of Damascus’s Three Apologies against Those Who Attack the Divine Images took a fourfold approach to the issue.
1st he said, it’s simultaneously impossible and impious to picture God, Who is pure spirit. Jesus Christ, Mary, saints, and angels on the other hand, who’ve appeared to human beings may be depicted. The Bible forbids idols alone.
2nd, it’s permissible to make images. The Old Testament prohibition of images was not absolute, for some images were commanded to be made; take for instance the cherubim over the mercy seat and other adornments of the temple. John said that we’re not under the strictures of the Old Covenant now. In fact, the incarnation of God IN Christ prompts us to make the invisible, visible. John set the incarnation at the center of his defense of icons, elevating the debate from a question only of practices of piety to a matter of theological orthodoxy. Since human beings are created with body and soul, the physical senses are important in human knowledge of the divine. There are images everywhere— human beings are images of God. The tradition of the Church allows images, and this suffices even without Scriptural warrant, he argued.
3rd, it’s lawful to venerate icons and images because matter isn’t evil. There are different kinds of worship: true worship belongs to God alone, but honor may be given to others.
4th, there are advantages to images and their veneration. They teach and recall divine gifts, nourish piety, and become channels of grace.
John of Damascus is regarded by the Orthodox Church as the last of the great teachers of the early church, men universally referred to as the “Church Fathers.”
Despite his arguments, Iconoclast emperors drove iconodules from positions of power and began vigorous persecution. Many works of art in church buildings from before the 8th C were destroyed. Constantine V took strong measures against monks, the chief spokesmen for images, secularizing their property and forcing them to marry nuns. Many of them fled to the West.
The Popes watched all of this with interest and came in on the side of the iconodules. Some of the best formulations of the independence of the Church, arguing that the emperor was not a teacher of the church, were made in their letters.
In the end, the iconoclasts sealed their defeat by refusing to give to pictures of Jesus the reverence they gave pictures of the Emperor. The reaction against iconoclasm finally set in after Constantine V.
Constantine V’s son and successor, Leo IV, was not an energetic iconoclast as his father and grandfather. His widow Irene, regent for their son Constantine VI, overturned the dynasty’s iconoclastic policy. At her bidding the Council of Nicaea in 787 and condemned the Iconoclasts, affirming the theological position taken by John of Damascus.
They found, “The venerable and holy images, as well in painting and mosaic as of other fit materials . . . should be given due salutation and honorable reverence, not indeed that true worship of faith that pertains alone to the divine nature”
But that wasn’t the end of iconoclasm. An Iconoclast block developed in the professional military as a reaction to a series of military disasters, diplomatic humiliations, and economic problems the Empire experienced in the quarter-century after the 787 Nicaean Council. They interpreted all these set-backs as the judgment of God for the Empire’s return to idolatry.
Finally, Emperor Leo V decided that Iconoclasm should again become the official policy of his government. A synod of church leaders in 815 reaffirmed the position taken by the anti-icon synod of 754—except that they no longer regarded the icons as idols.
With Leo V’s death, active persecution of the pro-icon party declined for 17 years before bursting out again in 837 under the leadership of Patriarch John Grammaticus. Under his influence, Emperor Theophilus decreed exile or capital punishment for all who openly supported the use of icons.
Theodora, the widow of Theophilus and regent for their son Michael III, decided he ought to abandon the iconoclastic policy to retain the widest support for his rule. A synod early in 843 condemned all iconoclasts, deposed the iconoclastic Patriarch John Grammaticus, and confirmed the decrees of the 7th Council.
In today’s Eastern Orthodox churches, paintings and mosaics frequently fill spaces on ceilings and walls. A screen or low partition called the iconostasis stretches across the front of the church, between the congregation and the altar area, for the purpose of displaying all the special icons pertaining to the liturgy and holy days.
