One of the many reasons that I enjoy the study of Medieval history so much is because it is such a misunderstood and misrepresented era. There are so many misconceptions surrounding the Medieval period, caused primarily by Hollywood, Renaissance Festivals, etc. Uncovering the sometimes obscure facts about the Medieval era helps to shed those misconceptions and brings greater understanding.
One of those misconceptions has to do with the practice of slavery and how early Christians understood (or perhaps misunderstood) the practice. Contrary to popular belief, early Christianity did not repeal the practice or reduce the numbers of slaves involved. Rather, early Christians, in many ways, found convenient justifications that allowed the practice to continue and even flourish for many years.
To be certain, slavery did, over time, dwindle away in Medieval Europe thanks in large part to the Christian faith (though one could easily argue that peasantry, along with different forms of forced labor wasn't much better). But as the final remnants of the Roman Empire decayed away, being replaced with Christian institutions to fill the void and establish new social and political constructs, the slavery question required an overhaul in how it would be reconciled to this new world faith. Naturally, an appeal to Christian authority (meaning Jesus' apostles) would satisfy such a void. The Didache (a first century collection of teaching attributed to the Twelve Apostles) states the following on slavery:
Do not, when embittered, give orders to your slave, male or female, for the hope in the same God; otherwise, they might lose fear of God, who is the Master of both of you. Surely is not coming to call with an eye to rank and station in life, no. But you, slaves, be submissive to your masters as to God's image in reverence and fear.
The message here is clear. Slaves, though technically eligible for salvation, are still an accepted component of society. Slave masters are to do their Christian duty by treating their slaves with relative respect, just as God treats them (his children who are still subjugated to him) with that same respect.
The Bible is full of examples of how early Christians were to interact and deal with their slaves. Paul alone provides us with ample source material on the subject. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul directs slaves to submit to their masters willfully. It is important to note that the word "servant" or "maid" in the King James Translation actually means "slave.":
Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ.
Let as many servants as are under the yoke count their own masters worthy of all honor, that the name of God and his doctrine be not blasphemed. And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them, because they are brethren, but rather do them service, because they are faithful and beloved, partakers of the benefit. These things teach and exhort, If any man teach otherwise, and consent not to wholesome words, even the words of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the doctrine which is according to godliness.
For Paul, and many other Christians, slavery is simply a normal part of life. The job of the Christian is to play their part as best they can as Christians. From 1 Corinthians 12:13:
For by one Spirit are we all baptized into one body, whether we be Jews or Gentiles, whether we be bond or free; and have been all made to drink into one Spirit.
Where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision or uncircumcision, Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free, but Christ is all and in all.
Slavery was part and parcel to daily life in the world of early Christians, and their leadership seemed content to embrace it as they would embrace any other aspect of their lives. In fact, Paul appears to support slave holding to a fault. In his letter to Philemon, Paul mentions the fact that he has returned a runaway slave (Onesimus), whom he met while together in prison, to his master, presumably Philemon. Though he could have given the runaway Onesimus sanctuary, Paul returned him to his owner (though he hints to Philemon that he would like to see Onesimus freed). Had Paul seen slavery as a Christian abomination, this would have been the best time of all to take a stand. He didn't because Paul, like his fellow Christians of the day, saw no sin in the keeping of slaves.
As the Apostles died away, the idea of slavery continued to be sanctioned by the subsequent generations of Christian leaders. Polycarp (a disciple of the Apostle John), for example, urged slaveholders to avoid emancipating their slaves, since (in his mind) slaves would naturally fall away from God:
Let them submit themselves the more, for the glory of God, that they may obtain from God a better liberty. Let them not wish to be set free as the public expense, that they be not found slaves to their own desires.
It is important that we understand the type of slavery that existed in this period. Contrary to the slavery of the New World (almost exclusively Black African slavery), the slavery of late antiquity/the early Medieval world was usually the result of debts, crimes committed or neighboring societies conquering and subjugating the losers. People who found themselves swimming in debts, for example, often found forgiveness for said debts by selling themselves, or more common, their family members into slavery. In Matthew 18:25 we read:
But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife, and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made.
Slaves were even owned by High Priests and potentially even by apostles themselves. From Mark 14:66:
And as Peter was beneath in the palace, there cometh one of the maids of the high priest.
Over time (particularly after the "fall" of the Roman Empire), slavery became a less advantageous enterprise that was phased out. The institution of peasantry and other forms of impoverished living were more advantageous to Medieval society than slavery.
We are just a few days removed from Columbus Day, which celebrates the
arrival of Christopher Columbus and crew to the "New
World" in 1492. Of course, any elementary school
student can tell you that Columbus was far from
being the first person to land in the Americas. History has proven
that others (to include Viking Leif Erikson and possibly even the Chinese)
arrived long before the hulls of Columbus' Nina,
Pinta and Santa Maria
ever touched American soil.
History is replete with tales (some true, some fictional) of adventurers who
braved the waters of the Atlantic and
discovered "new worlds" that were full of fantastic plant, animal and
even human life. It is likely that we will never truly
know which groups of people made their way to the Americas, but
what is clear is that the oceans were not vacant of ships of brave
people who were willing to try.
When it comes to verifying these stories, one of the many problems is the
fact that the written record was hard to come by. Prior to the
invention of Gutenberg's Printing Press, word of mouth only took stories
so far, and most of these stories were just that: stories. The
ability to produce a mass account that was verifiable was extremely
difficult to do. This is why Columbus'
story is the most popular (had Columbus
sailed just six decades earlier one wonders if his story would have been as
well known).
One of the many stories of brave sailors is that of Saint Brendan (c. 484 -
c. 577), an Irish monk from the early Medieval period. Very little is
known about the actual man outside of two texts that have survived from both
the 8th and 11th centuries, both of which were written several hundred years
after Brendan's death, but are likely based on earlier copies. Brendan
was born in Tralee (southwest Ireland)
to Christian parents (arguably some of the earliest Christian parents in Ireland) who
raised him to become the same. He was ordained a Priest in the Catholic
Church in 512 and dedicated his live to spreading the Christian message
throughout his native Ireland
and surrounding areas.
In addition to devoting his life to the church, Brendan was an avid and passionate
sailor. Records reveal that Brendan spent a tremendous time at sea,
visiting nearby islands and cities where he converted large groups of people to
Christianity and established a number of monasteries. Brendan’s prowess as
a navigator of the sea became well known and he was eventually joined by many
other sailors and missionaries who augmented his crew and allowed him to
venture even further out into the Atlantic.
But Brendan's greatest claim to fame comes from the Navigatio sancti
Brendani abbatis (Voyage
of Saint Brendan the Abbot and one of the two surviving documents mentioned
above),which tells the tale of Brendan's adventures to discover the Garden of
Eden. Brendan had heard the legends regarding the supposed location of
the Garden of Eden from St. Barinthus, who claimed to have made the voyage a
few years earlier. The Navigatio Brendani states that
Brendan, along with fourteen other brave sailors, fasted for forty days (each
person fasting for 2-3 days to total 40 days as a group) and asked God to guide
them on their quest for the Garden of Eden.
During their journey, Brendan's crew encounters massive sea monsters and
other fantastic sites that astound the reader (is it any wonder why the Navigatio
Brendani became a Medieval best seller?). Brendan & Co. make a number of stops at previously undiscovered
islands where they encounter a vast assortment of plant, animal and human
life (there is even one occasion in which a talking bird prophecies to the
men about their voyage).
Eventually, the crew arrives at what they call "St. Brendan's
Island" where they discover the most beautiful land ever.
According to the Navigatio Brendani, the men remain in the land for
several days and bask in the abundant fruits, nuts, jewels and other treasures
they discovered. It isn't until they discover an uncrossable river that
the men turn back, with their goods in hand, to Ireland where they share their tale
of adventure and discovery. Incidentally, it is the tale of St. Brendan's
Island that inspired one Walt Disney to offer up his own unique spin
on Carlo Collodi's The Adventures of Pinocchio. Disney's
depiction of PleasureIsland (which can be seen
by clicking here) was
the result of his reading about St. Brendan's adventures.
Naturally, the modern reader senses a number of problems with this
tale. It is clearly full of hyperbole and drama that is typical of any medieval
adventure saga. Almost nobody takes the story at face value. But
like any ancient or medieval tale, there is almost always a few kernels of
truth. Is it possible that St. Brendan ventured far out into the Atlantic and discovered an unknown and beautiful land?
A few people think so.
Author and amateur historian Dattatreya Mandal has the following
to say on the matter:
So...what lends credence to this incredible conjecture that puts
[Brendan]at the pantheon of New World
exploration? Well, quite curiously, the first known European colonists of
America
are the ones who tantalizingly provide the much needed allusions. Yes, we
are talking about the Vikings themselves. The sagas of the Norsemen
provide numerous glimpses into how they perceived different foreigners; and in
various cases, the Irish were seen as sea-faring people with aptitude for
exploration. Celtic mythology also mirrors this appraisal, with
fantastical accounts of the famous Irish voyagers like Bran and Maeldun.
The most intriguing contents of these sagas relate to how the Vikings
found Irish-sponsored Christian missionaries in Iceland from before the time they
colonized the island. The 'tumble down the rabbit-hole' continues with
one special Scandinavian account mentioning the Norsemen meeting with a
particular group of Native Americans who had supposedly seen Europeans before
their encounter with the Vikings. There are even vague tales in the
early medieval sagas that hint at some natives of the New World speaking a derivative of the Irish
language. Consequently, it comes as no surprise that the Vikings under
Leif Erikson called the expansive landmass south of 'Vinland' by the name of
'Irland it Mikla (or Greater Ireland).
In addition, modern day sailor and navigator Tim
Severin demonstrated in 1978 that it was indeed possible to make the
journey from Ireland to America using
the type of boat that Brendan built in his day:
Of course, the connections made by Mr. Mandal and the voyage of Mr. Severin do
not definitively prove anything other than the possibility exists
that Brendan and his crew could have ventured as far to the east as the Americas.
Is it likely? Not really? But was it possible? Yes.
In the end, we will never know if Brendan and his brave crew ever landed in
the Americas
or not. Personally, I think it is highly unlikely. What I take from
the saga of St. Brendan is this: exploration and adventure have always been at
the heart of the human spirit. That and it is quite likely that humans
have been exploring for longer (and further out) than we probably think.
If I were a gambling man, I would bet AGAINST the idea that St. Brendan landed
in the Americas, but I would also bet in FAVOR of the notion that human beings
have been exploring (even as far out as the Americas) all the way back to
medieval and even ancient times.
Knights of the Round table, damsels in distress locked away in a tall tower, fire-breathing dragons of doom, witches and their enchanted spells, magical magicians with their secret potions, Holy Grail legends. When it comes to Medieval mythology, the list is as long as Merlin's magical staff.
Like most historical eras, the Medieval world is immersed in stories that are, shall we say, less-than-accurate. In fact, for most who haven't studies this fascinating period of history, it can be difficult to separate fact from fiction.
Historical myths are nothing new. We are all familiar with the tale of George Washington and the cherry tree or the brave warrior Achilles whose bravery gripped entire armies with fear. These tales often tell us more about how people CHOOSE to interpret history as opposed to the history itself.
And when it comes to the Medieval world, the mythology is almost overwhelming. The stories have taken on a life of their own and many have survived even to this day. It is amazing to see just how many people actually embrace the myths even today. Most people today have a very distorted view on the realities of the Medieval world. For example, here is a small list of just a few of the more common myths that most people today have taken to be true:
1.) Medieval People Believed in a Flat Earth
No they did not! For centuries, scholars had accepted the reality that the world was spherical in shape. In fact, the ancients of Classical Grease (Socrates, Aristotle, etc.) accepted the fact that the world was round. Though many of the ideas of antiquity were lost during the "Dark Ages" (the dumbest term ever in history), Medieval thinkers of all stripes accepted that the world was not flat. Oh, and side note, so did Christopher Columbus!
2.) The Right of Primae Noctis
This is a myth made popular by the Oscar winning film "Braveheart." In the movie, Medieval Scottish lords are granted the right to have sexual relations with a newly married bride on the first night of her marriage. The practice, which is more commonly known as Droit du Seigneur, was practiced to a small degree in ancient China (and possibly ancient Babylon) but there is absolutely no evidence that it ever happened in Medieval Europe. In fact, the myth was created in 19th century France to serve as an example of how backward the period was believed to be.
3.) Vikings Wore Horned Helmets
Sorry, Minnesota Vikings fans (and History Channel actors), but Vikings from the Medieval period did not wear horned helmets. This is complete nonsense. In fact, Viking helmets were quite crude and round. There were no decorations to speak of. The idea of horns was born out of 19th century Romanticism and Scandinavian artists who began depicting their Viking ancestors as wearing horns.
4.) The Medieval World Loved Torture
Yes, torture existed in the Medieval world. Torture also exists today. Every era has seen some shade of it. But the Medieval world was NOT obsessed with torture and/or torture devices like we are led to believe. In fact, the Iron Maiden (which is regularly associated with the Medieval era) was created much later, probably in the 17th century. There are no mentions of it being used earlier than 1793! In reality, most torture devices were created AFTER the Medieval era.
5.) Chastity Belts
There is absolutely zero evidence that chastity belts were ever used in the Medieval era. In fact, the only reference we have of chastity belts being used in Europe date back to the 19th century, when people became fascinated (for whatever reason) in alleged Medieval torture devices (that were never actually Medieval to begin with).
6.) Water Was Terrible...Just TERRIBLE
Another complete B.S. belief. Yes, it is certainly true that the Medieval world did not enjoy the sanitation practices of the modern world but this doesn't mean that they had no source of clean water. Simple common sense disposes this myth completely. Homo Sapiens need water or we...um...DIE! The Medieval World (as well as the ancients) were well aware of this fact. This is why we are able to find plenty of relics of Medieval (and ancient) wells that provided clean water. And let's not forget that the Romans built massive aqueducts to transport clean water. The Medieval world did not somehow forget how important water was. They were well versed in the process of purifying water for human consumption. In reality, every civilization made (and continues to make) water a priority. If this weren't the case we simply would not have survived as a specie. In addition, the notion that Medieval (or ancient) people satisfied their water intake by drinking beer, wine, etc. is completely bogus. In fact, water was often added to DILUTE the potency of those drinks.
7.) Medieval People Did not Live Long. 30 or 40 Years of Age Was Considered Old
It is true that mortality rates were significantly higher for people living in the Medieval world, but this does not mean that a 30 or 40-year-old person was considered to be old or near death. In fact, most data shows that if a person lived into adulthood they could likely expect to live into their 60s or 70s. Life expectancy rates are lower for the Medieval world because there was a far greater infant mortality rate. Infants were the most at risk group of the Medieval population. It wasn't uncommon for a given couple to lose several young children due to illness, childbirth, etc. But if a child could reach the age of sixteen or so, he/she was likely to expect a fairly long life.
8.) Medieval People Did Not Have Good Hygiene
If we judge Medieval hygiene by today's 21st century standards then yes, the Medieval world had terrible hygiene. But the myth that Medieval society rarely bathed or practiced cleanliness is not true. There are several surviving Medieval sermons in which priests admonish their congregation to ensure that cleanliness standards were being met. Some cities, lords, etc. created laws to ensure cleanliness. Though they knew little in terms of medical practices, the Medieval world was well aware that disease was less likely to spread if cleanliness was maintained. Baths were common (though not daily) and several items (to include combs and recipes for Medieval deodorant) have been preserved even today.
9.) Medieval Women Had No Rights
They certainly didn't enjoy the same freedoms as men, but this is something we could say for the majority of human history, not just the Medieval world. With that being said, Medieval women could inherit land, money, etc. and were allowed to own and operate businesses. Women were free to travel, buy goods, and do most of the things men could do (aside from responsibilities to be had in the church and military). In fact, women would experience a LOSS of rights with the dawn of the Renaissance and Early Modern period.
10.) Medieval People Were Religiously Devout in All Ways and Feared the Church
While it is certainly true that the Catholic church was the single greatest influence on the Medieval world, the modern belief that Medieval people were staunchly devout and feared the church is a myth. There is literally tons of surviving literature from priests in all parts of Medieval Europe who complained about the lack of devotion they found in their parishioners. Priests complained that people were indifferent to the teachings and did not take religious practices seriously enough. They rebuked those who used religious holidays and festivals as nothing more than an excuse to get drunk.
As can be seen, the myths of the Medieval world, which are oftentimes embraced by today's world as being fact, are nothing more than blissful ignorance. They reveal more about us than they do about the actual Medieval world. We of the modern era like to suppose that our ancestors of old were crude, dirty, biased and uninformed but the reality is we are the ones who come off looking crude, dirty, biased and uninformed in our understanding of the Medieval world. It may not be to our liking when we discover that people of the past were not as foolish as we think, but facts are facts.
Medieval popes were some of the most influential people of that era. As the walking, talking vicars of Jesus Christ on earth, the authority of Medieval popes was virtually unquestioned. Their will became the will of the church, the will of the people, the will of God.
One of the most influential popes (though also one of the most overlooked) of the Medieval era was Pope Clement VI. Clement is most notable for being the Pope who reigned during the worst years of the Black Death. As a result, Clement was forced to reconcile the horrors of arguably the greatest challenge the Medieval world ever faced with the heavenly will of God. Was the Black Death a divine punishment for sin? Was is God's wrath being poured out upon a wicked and sinful people? For a world that revolved almost completely on the axis of Catholic primacy, the answers to these and other questions couldn't wait, and Clement was the man who had to stand and deliver.
As one of his first official acts as Pope, Clement issued the now infamous Papal Bull, Unigenitus Dei filius. The Bull was meant as an official declaration to justify the church's use of indulgences as a godly function of the faith.
Indulgences were nothing new to the Catholic world. The first recorded record of indulgences date back all the way to the 5th century, in which the practice was used to justify and absolve small matters like farming rights, etc. Most indulgences insisted upon a period of fasting, prayer and alms as a way to seek forgiveness for various sins. Indulgences took off in the 11th century, in the wake of the Crusades. Crusaders were regularly granted a remission of sin by faithfully fulfilling their role in a given crusade to recapture the Holy Land.
For Clement VI, this Bull was simply a way to "canonize" the already common practice of indulgences. For the Medieval world, however, it was seen, at least by an emerging minority, as a possible cause for the Black Death. Christian reformers of the 14th century, though still relatively small and intentionally obscure in their outward criticism of the Catholic church, were beginning to question some of the decisions made by church leaders. They were also growing tired of what they saw as hypocritical and sinful behavior on the part of the clergy, which was being swept under the rug by the practice of indulgences.
These early reformers, who essentially served as the "grandfathers" of men like Martin Luther, laid the initial groundwork that would later catapult the Protestant Reformation into existence. We can therefore conclude that the Papal Bull Unigenitus Dei filius was a tremendous success...though not for the Catholic church.
The world that was Medieval Europe was, by and large, governed by the Catholic Church. Everything from a person's daily diet to the treatment of various diseases were influenced by how the church interpreted the will of God in relation to these seemingly mundane daily activities. In short, the ritual that is life had to be put in harmony with the ritual that was devotion to Jesus the Christ.
And as the Medieval world evolved over the centuries, the understanding and implementation of these various Christian rituals evolved as well. Church and secular leaders, spread throughout the continent, worked tirelessly to enact laws, publish decrees, enforce standards of conduct, and, in short, do all that was deemed necessary to ensure that those under their charge were living a life of pious devotion.
And though these laws did much to help shape the character that was the typical Medieval peasant disciple, it only had a superficial effect. Medieval peasantry, though certainly influenced by the laws and decrees of their respective lands, were still free to believe whatever they ultimately felt in their heart. And since things like reading scripture and other holy writ were forbidden (not to mention the fact that most peasants were illiterate), Medieval peasants were forced to find spiritual stimulation in other ways. Certainly the liturgy of the Mass was quite influential, as were the various feast days, saints, etc. But since reading was out of the question, this meant that the VISUAL religious experience took precedent in shaping how Medieval peasants understood their faith.
In his article, "From Triumphant to Suffering Jesus: Visual and Literary Depictions of the Crucifixion, 300-1200" historian Michael Stewart explores how the depictions of Christ's crucifixion evolved over a millenia, ultimately culminating with the Renaissance. These crucifixion scenes started with dark, abstract depictions, but eventually evolved to reveal a very human Jesus of deep suffering and agony. As a result, many of these later Renaissance crucifixion motifs contributed to the persecution of Jews throughout Europe in the twelfth century.
One does not need to be an expert in Medieval history or the history of art to see the obvious changes in crucifixion art that took place over the course of the 900 years that Michael Stewart discusses in his article. Take, for example, a few basic images:
This image, for example, is from approximately 850 in Spain and reveals what Steward calls "the triumphant Christ."
According to Steward, the earliest depictions of Christ on the cross portrayed a living Jesus. The early Medieval world actually abhorred depictions of a lifeless, suffering Christ on the cross, which they saw as meaningless. Instead, early Medieval crucifixion scenes were often like the one above.
In addition, Stewart provides an additional reason for why these early Christians avoided creating death scenes for Christ when he writes:
The Roman Empire had long admired martial virtues as the primary components of an ideal Roman male's identity, which helps explain the lack of interest in Christ's suffering for a religion that was focusing on converting a population that venerated the deeds of military men.
As a result, it is far more common for us to find the following depictions of Christ from early Medieval Christians:
Mosaic of Christ as Roman Emperor, found in Ravenna, Italy.
This image of Christ reveals a triumphant, heroic savior of mankind, dressed in traditional Roman clothing, which was precisely the image that early Christians wanted to revere.
For many early Christians, the manner in which Christ died was seen as "unmanly" and certainly not worthy of a great leader (crucifixion was seen as a humiliating way to kill enemies of the State). Is it any surprise that these early Christians would either avoid the crucifixion scene entirely or depict in in a non-degrading manner?
But as Western Europe continued to evolve, the manner in which Christ was depicted evolved as well. During the 9th and 10th centuries, Western European Christianity became far less individualistic. As Stewart points out, "One no longer made a deliberate choice to become a Christian." Christianity was, for the most part, now a requirement. In addition, an increase in the emphasis on Old Testament teachings (Medieval peasants were finding less in common with the now "ancient" Roman world but greater interest in the idea of ancient Israel) brought with it an increased desire to see Christ as the typical "Christian soldier" of the Crusades. For example:
This fresco, found in the "Visoci Decani" in modern day Kosovo, came with the accompanying verse from Matt. 10:34 which states, "Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword."
Again, a triumphant, quasi-militant Christ was the desired imagery for a people who were more than familiar with violence in the name of religion.
With the dawn of the Reformation and Renaissance, however, the Medieval world experienced a shift in how Christ was portrayed. As Stewart states:
By the 10th century, we begin to see the first examples of a new type of crucifix which emphasized Christ's anguish. The movement gained momentum in the eleventh and twelfth centuries...This period of consolidation and change, created the need for reformers to protect themselves against both clerical and lay opponents. Jesus presented a focal point around which the reformers could rely, in doing, the reformers emphasized Christ's humanity, which increasingly became an object of devotion and imitation.
The poignant example of Christ being preferred for his humanity and suffering can be found in the poem by Hildegard of Bingen, a twelfth-century nun and writer, who wrote:
Now, we call on you, our husband and comforter, Who redeemed us on the cross. We are bound to you through your blood, as the pledge of betrothal. We have renounced early men, And chosen you the Son of God. O most beautiful form. O sweetest fragrance of desirable delights. We sigh for you always in our sorrowful banishment! When may we see you and remain with you? But we dwell in the world, And you dwell in our mind. We embrace you in our heart as if you were here with us.
The imagery created in this poem is not of a warrior Christ or an impersonal emperor of both heaven and earth, but rather of a personal, even intimate Jesus who suffered with his people. Is it any wonder why the crucifixion art of this time would take on a human, intimate and suffering tone:
The suffering Christ, surrounded by devastated loved ones, reflect the changes that were flooding into Western Europe. The Renaissance and Reformation brought with them a greater emphasis on individuality, humanity, and promoted the personal, intimate Christ over the warrior Christ. There can be little doubt that such depictions of the centerpiece of Christianity had a very real and very profound impact on Medieval peasants, who were, for the first time, beginning to see themselves in a very different light.
It was a cold and quiet morning here in Colorado Springs. We're expecting the year's first major snow storm. It's the kind of weather that forces you to stay inside, hunker down and either watch a movie or read. And since there was nothing good on television this morning, I elected to finally read a few journal articles that I've had on the back shelf for quite some time.
This morning I read an article by Medieval historian Ramon Agustin Lopez entitled, "Consumption of Meat in Western European Cities During the Late Middle Ages." On the surface, this article probably seems cut-and-dry. After all, everyone knows (even those who've never studied Medieval history) that the typical peasant diet was lacking when it came to the basic nutritional needs required for the human body. This conclusion, however, is not as correct as we may think. In his article, Dr. Lopez contends that while the typical Medieval diet was certainly not as healthy as it could have been, the culturally accepted notion that peasants starved or had little to eat is not as true as we may think.
To be certain, the Medieval world did not fully understand how the human body processed food, nor did they recognize which foods contained the beneficial proteins, carbohydrates, vitamins, etc. that humans need. This nutritional deficiency, however, was not the result of a lack of food but rather a lack of maintaining a balanced diet. As Dr. Lopez points out, over 80% of Medieval peasants enjoyed "more than sufficient portions of protein" in their daily meals. The primary source of this protein came from mutton, which was generally seen as the meat of the lower classes. Nobility and other elites of society usually consumed beef (in rather large quantities), while the peasantry consumed the flesh of sheep.
In addition, Medieval peasantry consumed a large portion of beans, peas, eggs and lentils, which also augmented their protein intake. In fact, the typical English peasant could expect to enjoy a rather bountiful table. The average daily meal for such a person usually consisted of 2-3 pounds of bread, 8-14 ounces of protein (usually from mutton, eggs, or beans and fish in the coastal regions), and 3-6 pints of ale. Vegetables and fruits were a seasonal and regional product.
Of course, none of this takes into account the occasions in which famine, disease or climate effected the abundance of food. To be certain, the Medieval world faced such difficulties on a reoccurring basis. But when times were good (or at least "normal"), the typical Medieval family was not as deprived of nourishment as we may think.
The problems that resulted from the typical Medieval diet were usually related to contamination and a lack of nutritional diversity. Most peasants stuck with a few basic foods for reasons of convenience. Life was busy and tough enough without having to worry about providing a variety of options on the dinner table. In addition, the problem of contamination was always present. As I stated in a previous blog post, most bread (especially the bread of the peasantry) was made from rye, which was often contaminated with Ergot. And while preservation practices were rather sophisticated and successful (especially in the late Middle Ages), the threat of contaminated water, meat, etc. was always looming. Dysentery, food poisoning and other ailments were always a reality.
Aside from the practical realities that governed the Medieval diet, a number of cultural customs regarding food were also of great importance. As was common during this time, the Catholic Church enjoyed a great deal of influence over many aspects of Medieval life, and meal time was no exception. The liturgical calender was littered with a plethora of feast and fast days, each of which dictated what could or could not be consumed. In most areas, meat was forbidden for approximately 1/4 of the calender year, while all animal products (to include eggs, dairy, meat, etc.) were prohibited during Lent (fish being the only exception).
Dr. Lopez's article goes on to discuss how Medieval meal practices and customs eventually influenced many of the modern world's dinner and holiday practices. The idea of eating together as a family at a communal table has its roots in Medieval times.
What I find equally fascinating (but is not mentioned in Dr. Lopez's article) is how European culinary practices changed with the discovery of the "New World." The introduction of corn, potatoes, sugar, tobacco, etc. completely revolutionized the European dining experience. We cannot underestimate the importance of this reality. In fact, Europe witnessed a dramatic spike in procreation at the dawn of the discovery of the New World. Added calories and a diversity of food options certainly contributed to this growth in population.
The "fall" of the Roman Empire not only marked the end of a powerful geo-political entity of stability for most of Europe, but it also ushered in the demise of an economy that had dominated the continent for centuries. With the dawn of the "Dark Ages," Europeans of all stripes were forced to start from scratch and to establish new rules to govern the newly emerging political, social and economic practices that were emerging in the post-Roman world.
Among the many issues dealt with at this time was the practice of usury (interest practices on monetary loans). During the height of the Roman Empire, usury had been, by and large, an approved practice, though it was almost exclusively a privatized enterprise. Wealthy citizens could, if they so chose, grant loans with fixed interest rates (though the empire did, at times, place certain restrictions on those rates), thereby allowing a quasi-privatized banking system to arise. With the rise of the Catholic church in the early 4th century, however, the practice of usury was met with stern disapproval by early Christian leaders. For these early Christians, the teachings of Jesus, and of the Bible itself, made the practice of usury not only undesirable but downright sinful. From the Book of Deuteronomy:
19.) Thou shalt not lend upon usury to thy brother; usury of money, usury of victuals, usury of any thing that is lent upon usury:
20.) Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but unto thy brother thou shalt not lend upon usury: that the Lord thy God may bless thee in all that thous settest thine hand to in the land...
This clear commandment against the practice of usury (with the exception given in bold for a "stranger," a loophole that Medieval Jews found quite useful) served as more than sufficient ammunition to criminalize the practice for the majority of the Middle Ages. The elimination of Usury was unanimously accepted during the 325 Council of Nicea. In the eighth century under Charlemagne, usury was, under the law, considered to be a general criminal offence. In 1179, at the Third Council of the Latean, anyone found benefiting from the practice of usury was prohibited from taking the sacraments and could eventually be excommunicated entirely. Later, Pope Sixtus V would call the practice of usury, "most detestable to God and man, damned by the sacred canons and contrary to Christian charity."
So, if the practice of usury was so deplorable to Medieval Christians, how did it eventually become standard operating procedure? And how are Christians today (along with capitalism in general) able to so gleefully support its continued existence?
The answer rests primarily with the rise of trade and (eventually) Mercantilism in Europe. As European society continued to progress through the Middle Ages, the growth of trade and finance forced change upon a society that was, for centuries, operating on a set of rules that issued divine punishment for certain practices (such as usury). But these divine punishments eventually had to give way to the sweeping tides of change.
Increasingly thereafter, and despite numerous subsequent prohibitions by Popes and civil legislators, loopholes in the law and contradictions in the Church's arguments were found and along with the growing tide of commercialization, the pro-usury counter-movement began to grow. Nobles and other elites of European society quickly discovered that the practice of usury was virtually a gold mine waiting to be tapped. As trade and commercialization began to spread its roots further out into the Middle East and the Orient, European powers saw greater opportunities to increase their wealth. Even holy religious orders like the famous Knights Templar got into the act by taking advantage of their complex network of members that were branched out all across the European countryside.
But not everyone was in favor of this new justification on an old sin. Both Martin Luther and John Calvin, along with their followers, expressed severe disappointment with what was taking place, going so far as to claim that those who practice usury were carrying the "mark of the beast" mentioned of in the Book of Revelations. In many ways, this conflict between the pro and anti-usury crowds helped to spark much of the Antisemitism that began to permeate Europe at the latter portion of the Middle Ages.
In the end, the economic and social revolutions taking place throughout Europe, coupled with the eventual discovery of the "New World" made the conversion to an acceptance of usury a virtual guarantee. The new demands for goods from all across the globe created an environment that was simply too rich for the practice of usury not to flourish. This, of course, eventually contributed to the rise of market capitalism, which is essentially married to the practice of usury. As a result, the long-held prohibition on usury had gone the way of the Dodo Bird.
As anyone who is bilingual/multilingual will tell you, the work of translating from one language to another can, at times, be a bit of a mess. For example:
Fortunately for America, this simple and innocent faux pas on the part of Secretary Clinton ended with little more than a chuckle for both parties. Other translation errors, however, have had much more serious repercussions.
When translating the Bible into English, for example, a number of mistakes were made in the process. Whether confusing the words "camel" with "rope" or "eunuch" with "believer," it is clear that at least some honest mistakes could not be entirely avoided. And while some translation errors resulted in incorrect words or phrases being published to the world, there were other errors which proved to be more subtle but every bit as critical to capturing the original meanings behind these ancient texts.
One possible example of this fact rests with the word "wisdom," or in Hebrew, חוכמה (not that I have any clue what that means but it looks cool). According to Webster's Dictionary, wisdom is: "the quality of being wise; knowledgeable, and the capacity to make due use of it; knowledge of the best ends and the best means." This seems to be as solid a definition as any for the word, "wisdom."
The Bible is literally saturated with beautiful references to wisdom and the importance that God places on our obtaining and cultivating this all-important attribute. For it was by wisdom that God created the earth and established the heavens (Prov. 3: 19). Wisdom was the gift that Solomon wanted more than any other (1 Kings 4: 29). It was with the temptation of greater wisdom that the serpent was able to get Eve to partake of the forbidden fruit (Gen. 3: 5). And as every good Mormon knows, it was the quest for greater wisdom that compelled a young Joseph Smith to seek God in prayer (James 1: 5). And it was an appeal to God's natural wisdom that inspired Poet William Wordsworth to write:
Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There’s more of wisdom in it
Enough of Science and of Art; Close up those barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.
Yes, it is safe to say that wisdom is one of humanity's basic instinctual cravings.
But is there more to the word "wisdom" than meets the eye? As mentioned above, translation errors can, at times, distort the original meanings to certain words, or even negate what was originally an important concept that ancient writers wanted to convey. How does this all apply to the word "wisdom?"
In the Hebrew language, the word "wisdom" is feminine, as is the case in many other languages. Of course, this isn't particularly noteworthy for us today, since most nouns are, at least in most languages, assigned masculine or feminine pronouns. But wisdom was unique to the ancients because it not only served as an embodiment of special knowledge but also because it embodied deity itself.
Throughout the ancient tradition, wisdom was regularly personified as an exalted female figure, crying out to her lost children with loving petitions to correct their wayward behavior:
Wisdom crieth without; SHE uttereth HER voice in the streets: SHE crieth in the chief place of concourse, in the openings of the gates: in the city SHE uttereth HER words, saying: how long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity? and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge? (Proverbs 1: 20-22).
Whether in Hebrew, Aramaic or other ancient languages, the personification of wisdom with feminine deity was an important and common practice. Many of the earliest Goddesses of the ancient world were exalted primarily for their wisdom and loving kindness towards mankind. In the Celtic world, the Goddess Danu was known as the "Beloved wise one" and "Mother of heroes." For earlier Egyptians, the Goddess Hathor was one of the most important and popular deities throughout the history of Ancient Egypt. It was her "wise guidance and counsel" to other gods within the Egyptian pantheon that earned her the title "Mother Goddess." And then there's the case of the other "Mother Goddess" of the Semitic world, Asherah, whose wisdom and kindness to mankind earned her the title of "Queen of Heaven" and "Goddess and consort of Yahweh who is worshipped in Heaven."
This union between wisdom and female deity may seem like little more than simple polytheism to most, but such a label oversimplifies and downplays the importance that the ancients placed on this wisdom/Mother Goddess dichotomy. For most ancients, wisdom WAS the Mother Goddess. As historian William Denver makes clear in his work, Did God Have a Wife?: Archaeology and Folk Religion in Ancient Israel:
The rediscovery of the Goddess and of women's popular cults in ancient Israel redresses the balance. It helps to correct the andocentric bias of the biblical writers. It "fleshes out" the concept of God, brings the divine mystery closer to the heart of human experience, and yes, to the mystery of human sexual love. We humans are engendered; if we are to think and speak about God at all, it must be in a way that combines all that is best in males and all that is best in females. Even the androcentric biblical writers sometimes employed female imagery. Yahweh "gave birth" to Israel (Deut. 32:18); he has a "womb" (Job 32:29).
Whether or not we of the modern world esteem this ancient folk tradition of wisdom and the Mother Goddess as nonsense is irrelevant, for its presence can be found throughout ancient scripture. For example:
Happy is the man that findeth WISDOM, and the man that getteth understanding. SHE is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto HER. Length of days is in HER right hand; and in HER left hand ariches and honour. HER ways are ways of pleasantness, and all HER paths are peace. SHE is a tree of alife to them that lay hold upon HER: and happy is every one that retaineth HER.
And here's the really cool final verse:
The Lord BY WISDOM HATH FOUNDED THE EARTH; by understanding hath he established the heavens (Proverbs 3: 13, 15-19).
Was a "Mother Goddess" (a.k.a. "Wisdom") involved with the creation?
But that's not all:
The Son of man came eating and drinking, and they say, Behold a man gluttonous, and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners. But WISDOM is justified of HER children (Matthew 11: 19).
For wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it. I WISDOM dwell with prudence, and find out knowledge of witty inventions (Proverbs 8: 11-12). [Interesting to note the first person reference here!]
From the Book of Wisdom:
Now with you is WISDOM, who knows your works and was present when you made the world; Who understands what is pleasing in your eyes and what is conformable with your commands. Send HER forth from your holy heavens and from your glorious throne dispatch HER that she may be with me and work with me, that I may know what is your pleasure (NAB Wis 9: 1,6,9-10 ). [Note that Wisdom is female, and with God at creation. She is coeternal with the Father.]
And from, of all places, The Book of Mormon:
O how marvelous are the works of the Lord, and how long doth he suffer with his people; yea, and how blind and impenetrable are the understandings of the children of men; for they will not seek WISDOM, neither do they desire that SHE should rule over them! (Mosiah 8: 20).
Now, by no means am I suggesting that every single reference to wisdom in scripture is somehow referring to a female goddess. I wouldn't feel comfortable making the claim that any of the aforementioned verses prove such an assertion. However, I do think it is abundantly clear that the ancients esteemed wisdom and the "Mother Goddess" tradition as being one in the same. As the great Hebrew scholar Raphael Patai points out in his excellent book, The Hebrew Goddess:
In the Book of Job, Wisdom is described as a personage whose way is understood and place is known only by God himself, while the Book of Proverbs asserts that Wisdom was the earliest of God's creations and that ever since the primeval days she (Wisdom) has been God's playmate.
In the Apocrypha, this role of Wisdom is even more emphasized. A passage in the Wisdom of Solomon states that "She [Wisdom] proclaims her noble birth in that it is given to her to live with God and the Sovereign Lord of all loved her." It was observed by Gershom Scholem that the term appears again in the same chapter in the sense of marital connubium, and that it is therefore clear that Wisdom here is regarded as God's wife. Philo states quite unequivically that God is the husband of Wisdom.
Wisdom played a particularly important role among the Jewish Gnostics. References to the role of Wisdom in the primodial days of the world seem to indicate the existance of a Gnostic Hokhma-myth which originated in Jewish circles and was hypothetically reconstructed as follows:
Out of the primeval chaos, God created the seven archons through the intermediacy of his Wisdom, which was identical with the "dew of light." Wisdom now cast her eidolon, or shadow-image upon the primeval waters of the Tohu wa-Bohu, whereupon the archons formed the world and the body of man. Man crawled about upon the earth like a worm, until Wisdom endowed him with spirit. Satan, in the shape of a serpant, had intercourse with Eve who thereupon bore Cain and Abel. Thus sexuality became the original sin. After the fall, the sons of Seth fought the sons of Cain. When the daughters of Cain seduced the sons of Seth, Wisdom brought the flood upon the earth (Pp. 97-98).
There is perhaps no better example of this wisdom/Mother Goddess relationship than that of Sophia. For the Hellenized Greek world, Sophia (which in Greek actually means "wisdom") was the literal philosophical personification of wisdom. In later Orthodox and Roman Catholic Christianity, Sophia was an expression of understanding of the Holy Spirit. It was (for many of these early Greek Christians) Sophia who caused Mary to become pregnant with Jesus. In addition, it was Sophia who descended upon Jesus as a dove at his baptism.
One important thing to remember here is that Sophia was never a member of the traditional gods of Greek mythology. She was a later and separate goddess who came to embody wisdom itself. For Plato, Sophia was best understood as philo-Sophia, literally meaning the love of wisdom (or what we call philosophy today). In fact, it was Socrates, who, when standing before the Oracle of Delphi and questioned, "Of all the Greeks who is the wisest?" responded, "Why none more so than the Mother Sophia." Socrates then went on to make his famous declaration, "I know one thing: that I know nothing," but then went on to explain that true wisdom came from accepting this all-important fact of life. Is it any wonder why the earliest Christians chose to name the most magnificent architectural achievement of the Medieval era the "Hagia Sophia?" (which means "Holy Wisdom").
With this concept of wisdom/Mother Goddess fully infused into much of the ancient world, we of the modern day can gain a different and newer perspective on what these ancient writers were trying to say. There can be little doubt that the wisdom/Mother Goddess dichotomy was, for many ancients, as real as the Trinity is for many orthodox Christians. To separate the two words from what appears to be, at least in some cases, a duel meaning would be like separating peanut butter from jelly. Why on earth would anyone want to separate that which seems meant for the other? And if there is to be a "Mother Goddess" theology, I can think of no better attribute for her to possess than that of wisdom. Wisdom rules heaven together with God, and the two are peanut butter and jelly! Or as the Muslim proverb put it, "Heaven rests at the feet of wisdom."
“The aim of science is to seek the simplest explanation of complex facts. We are apt to fall into the error of thinking that the facts are simple because simplicity is the goal of our quest. The guiding motto in the life of every natural philosopher should be “Seek simplicity and distrust it.” – Alfred North Whitehead
Most people are familiar with the philosophical principle known as Occam's Razor, which suggests that whenever faced with competing hypotheses to a particular problem, the one with the fewest and simplest assumptions is probably best. Occam's Razor implies that there is an inherant virtue to simplicity, even from a scientific or philosophical perspective, and that by taking a minimalist stance to a given problem the truth can become more clear. Occam's Razor has become a staple for theological skeptics and nominalists who prefer a more deliberate and palpable view of the metaphysical world. In many respects, Occam's Razor has been wielded as the ultimate dagger against those who put their faith in the intangible. As actress Jodi Foster demonstrates:
The portrayal of Occam's Razor in the movie Contact is probably the best known allusion to this philosophical principle in modern culture. In fact, when most people refer to Occam's Razor they usually end up quoting the very lines that Jodi Foster used in the film: "All things being equal, the simplest explanation tends to be the right one." And though the idea behind Occam's Razor seems simple enough, the reality of Occam's Razor is that it is far from being the Holy Grail to all logical pursuits, and in many respects is an outdated relic of a time gone by. Of course, by no means am I suggesting that Occam's Razor is completely worthless. I personally find much to be desired by appealing to simplicity. However, Occam's Razor, like any blade, has two sides to it.
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The origins of Occam's Razor date all the way back to the early 14th century, when a brilliant man named William of Ockham began to challenge some of the standard orthodoxy of his day. William was, without question, one of the greatest and most important thinkers of the Middle Ages. Next only to perhaps Thomas Aquinas, there are few who can claim to have shaped Western philosophy and Christian epistomology more in that era than William of Ockham. His ideas gave birth to a more deliberate, logical and nominalistic interpretation of philosophy and religion, many of which continue to this day.
As a member of the Franciscan Order, William had become well-aquainted with the strict orthodoxy that persisted in much of Christianity. Pious priests and monks had faithfully maintained the status quo with little resistance to the chuch's central teachings. Most of the faithful had grown accustomed to the ritualized lifestyle of Medeival Catholicism, complete with its emphasis on faithful discipleship through humble acquiesance to heavenly guidance and passive acceptance of Vatican supremacy. And while William of Ockham had no apparent problem with church authority (he was, after all, a devout Franciscan monk), he did have one basic character flaw: he was a genius.
It didn't take long for William of Ockham to begin questioning and revising some of his personal beliefs. As a man who prided himself upon logic and reason, William took issue with some of the doctrinal aspects of his faith, particularly surrounding the Trinity and the church's growth and dependence upon wealth. As William himself stated in his now infamous Summa Logicae:
Plurality ought never be posited without necessity.
And:
It is futile to do with more things that which can be done with fewer.
William was never a fan of the convoluted doctrine of the Trinity. On many occasions, he argued that the Bible nor logic and reason would support such a view. In addition, it troubled William deeply when he saw the massive expanse of wealth that was being enjoyed by the chief officers of the church in his day. As a result, William embraced a minimalist view of theology in where logic and reason were seen as tools to purify one's personal faith. As a result, William of Ockham is often hailed as being the father of Medieval Nominalism. Needless to say, many of William's ideas landed him in trouble with the church, and eventually led to his excommunication. But these developments did not change the fact that William's ideas were here to stay...for the long haul.
And even though William of Ockham's contributions are praised for their reliance upon logic, reason and the pursuit of basic simplicity, it would be wrong to say that he had no room for accepting matters of faith. As William himself stated:
Only faith gives us access to theological truths. The ways of God are not open to reason, for God has freely chosen to create a world and establish a way of salvation within it apart from any necessary laws that human logic or rationality can uncover.
These don't sound like the words of a man who supposedly believed that the simplest ideas are always the best. In fact, William of Ockam seemed to be less interested in the ideas of Occam's Razor (the philosophical idea that was named after him) than most people want to believe. While it is true that he maintained many nominalist ideas, I disagree that William of Ockham was truly a nominalist at heart. It is presumptuous for us to say that William's dependance upon logic and reason somehow negated his belief in faith and the intangible. It did not. Occam's Razor may be based in principle upon many of the teaching of William, but the end substance of this philosophical concept is far from being in harmony with the man whose name it now immortalizes.
William of Ockham would never have foreseen the day when the pursuit of objective reason and logic would somehow be put in conflict with a life of faith. As a result, I wonder if it is even right for us to call Occam's Razor after William of Ockham. After all, the phrase didn't come into existence until 1852 by Sir William Hamilton, more than 500 years after William of Ockham's death. Since that day, Occam's Razor has evolved to become something that William would never have embraced himself. For scientists and philosophers today, Occam's Razor has been employed as a heuristic (general guiding rule) to guide scientists in the the development of theoretical models, rather than simply being an arbitrary tool between conflicting theories. In other words, Occam's Razor has become a nearly irrefutable principle of logic that no objective scientist would dare to question.
But the fact of the matter is that Occam's Razor is not a crystal ball to all logic and objectivity. In fact, there are quite a few problems with this supposed gem of philosophical thought. The bottom line is that validity of a theory and simplicity are not automatically related. Whether an idea or a set of facts is littered with complexities or is stripped down to its absolute bare simplicity has no bearing on its veracity. Sure, the simpler concept may be easier to understand, but it is not inherantly more correct than a complex theory. The danger of "appealing to simplicity" is that there are many cases in which factual scientific theories and ideas are incredibly complex. The theories behind quantum mechanics and general relativity for example are so complex that appealing to Occam's Razor wouldn't be practical. As a result, Occam's Razor can become, at times, a logical fallacy.
Occam’s Razor is actually a vestigial remnant of medieval science. It is literally a historical artifact: William of Ockham employed this principle in his own 13th century work on divine omnipotence and other topics “resistant” to scientific methods. The continuing use of parsimony in modern science is an atavistic practice equivalent to a cardiologist resorting to bloodletting when heart medication doesn’t work.
And it is in the life sciences where Occam’s razor cuts most sharply in the wrong direction, for at least three reasons.
1) First, life itself is a fascinating example of nature’s penchant for complexity. If parsimony applies anywhere, it is not here.
2) Second, evolution doesn’t design organisms as an engineer might – instead, organisms carry their evolutionary history along with them, advantages and disadvantages alike (your appendix is the price you pay for all your inherited immunity to disease). Thus life appears to result from a cascading “complexifying” process – an understanding of organisms at the macroscale will be anything but simple.
3) Third, we know that the even the simplest rules of life can give rise to intractable complexity. Unless you’re a biophysicist, the mechanisms at your preferred level of analysis are likely to be incredibly heterogenous and complex, even at their simplest.
[...]
Thus, the utility of Occam’s Razor is highly questionable. Theories which it would soundly eliminate are usually questionable for other reasons, while useful theories might be discarded for a lack of parsimony relative to their over-simplified competitors. The theory which states “height determines weight” can do a reasonable job of providing evidence that seems to support that theory. And it’s highly parsimonious – Ockham would love it! But the theory which says “nutrition, exercise, and a collection of more than 100 genes predict both height and weight” is highly unparsimonious, even though we know it’s better than its competitor theory. Statisticians have quantified the appropriate penalty for various theories based on the number of variables they involve, but the more theoretical modes of quantitative science have yet to catch up.
In other words, Occam's Razor is wonderful for grasping at the low lying fruit that is easy to reach, but offers little in terms of understanding many of the complex realities of the modern world. Sure, we would all love to have simplicity reign supreme. It makes life easier. But sadly, this cannot always be the case. No matter what Lynyrd Skynyrd has to say on the matter, there really are no "Simple Men."
Human beings have always been fascinated with "doomsday" stories. For whatever reason, the idea that humanity might come to an end via alien invasion, a killer comet, nuclear war or religious apocalypse has caused almost every generation and civilization to predict where, when and how the end of days might play out. I have actually blogged about this phenomenon before. American culture is full of examples of doomsday practitioners who tailor their rhetoric to invoke the desired reaction from their target audience. Whether it takes the form of fire and brimstone televangelists, doom and gloom political pundits, awe inspiring Hollywood films or mysterious Mayan predictions, we Americans seem to have a love/hate relationship with all things apocalyptic.
But we Americans are far from alone in our apparent affinity for the end of days. Virtually every civilization in every corner of the world has their doomsday stories. One of my all-time favorites comes out of Medieval Europe, from the 5th century to be specific.
Along the Iberian Peninsula, in what is today Spain, a man named Hydatius lived a life of faithful devotion to the emerging religion known as Christianity. In fact, so great was his piety that in 427, Hydatius was made Bishop of Chaves, where he labored extensively to establish the church in that particular part of the Late Roman Empire. Hydatius had a reputation for rooting out any and all forms of Christian heresy and pagan loyalty. As a result, his name was revered by many of the chief figureheads of both Rome and the church.
Despite his tenacity and zeal for the work of the church, Hydatius was forced to come to terms with the changing world around him. The Western Roman Empire was dying a slow, painful death that was only being made worse by the intrusion of northern "barbarian" tribes who were eager to feast of the rotting carcases of the once great empire. For Hydatius, this reality was an extremely bitter pill to swallow. Rome, and the church, were the palpable reality of God's kingdom on Earth. With Alaric's sacking of Rome in 410 still fresh in the minds of many (not to mention the other barbarian incursions and mounting political instability of the Western Roman Empire), the idea that the Roman Empire might disappear completely was a painful future to consider.
Due in large part to the emergence of the Christian faith along with the rapidly approaching demise of the Roman Empire, men like Hydatius were quick to assume that not only might Rome come to an end, but the world itself by be nearing its conclusion. Beginning with the creation story from the Book of Genesis, Hydatius sought to place all of human history within the context of a linear progression, starting with Adam and Eve and ending with the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, which Hydatius believed to be right around the corner (some sources specify the date of May 27, 482). In fact, Hydatrius could easily be considered as the "father" of the Christian end of days phenomenon, in which virtually every succeeding generation has followed his example. As a member of the social elite, Hydatius had access to a number of chronographic and historical sources, and he cited them extensively in his forecasts of the end of the world (though he often exaggerated the historical records or simply made stuff up to fit his agenda). As a result, Hydatius gained quite the following, even among some in the upper class.
In addition to establishing the precedent of fitting a world apocalypse within the construct of Christianity, Hydatius was a pro at depicting the end of the world as a doom and gloom event. Much in the same way that a Glenn Beck or a Harold Camping of today spins their rhetoric to invoke fear and terror of the future, Hydatius was a master of fear mongering. For example:
Such are the contents of the present volume, but I have left it to my successors to account of the Last Days, at that time at which they encounter them...famines run riot, so dire that driven by hunger human beings devoured human flesh; mothers too feasted upon the bodies of of their own children whom they had killed and cooked with their own hands...And thus with the four plagues of sword, famine, pestilence, and wild beasts raging everywhere throughout the world, the annunciations foretold by the Lord through his prophets came to fulfilment.
As you can see, Hydatius didn't have to look far to find his "ammunition." All around, examples of the crumbling Roman world were to be found, and Hydatius was like a kid in a candy store. The animalistic, heathen barbarians, intent on rape, pillage, plunder, destruction, enslavement and conquest, were the perfect characters for any and all devil/anti-Christ roles that could be imagined. In short, Hydatius' life, and that of his contemporaries, is a miserable, hopeless, decrepit and evil existence, but all is well because the end was coming...and coming SOON!
All of this begs the question, "Were things really as bad in the 5th century as Hydatius makes them out to be?" The quick answer to this question is a resounding, "No." Sure, the Western Roman world was a world in change and constant flux. Political strife and social decay, coupled with the rise of "barbarian" northerners and the Christian religion, all made for a very unpredictable world. But this does not mean that the world itself was hanging by a thread or that good, innocent people were living in a constant state of panic. In fact, the overwhelming majority of commoners probably never heard or cared about the type of rhetoric that Hydatius was spinning. For most peasants, coloni, etc., like was pretty much the status quo existence of farming, socializing within a very limited and localized structure, praying to god(s), etc. Hydatius' message was not one that got a ton of airtime and he was clearly embellishing things to advance his apocalyptic message. From historian E.A. Thompson's book, Romans and Barbarians:
The entry of the barbarians into Spain in 409 was an event which made an impact, but not a resounding impact, on the chroniclers of the outside world. Most of them speak of it, but the do so briefly -- only in a few words...For Hydatius, on the other hand, it was a calamity which deserved as much space as the Fall of Rome itself...a disaster which dumbfounded the civilized world.
With that said, Hydatius' accounts, though sensationalized and often misleading, provide some important glimpses into the 5th century history of Spain. As such, they are an invaluable treasure. Of course, much of it needs to be taken with a grain of salt. After all, we now know with the blessing of hindsight that the world didn't end in 482 (far from it), nor was the "barbarian invasion" into the dying Roman Empire the end of the world. In fact, it marked the beginning for the emerging Medieval societies of Europe, not to mention the future greatness of Christianity as the single most influential force of the next 1000+ years.
Yesterday marked the 600th anniversary of the birth of Jeanne d'Arc (Joan of Arc), the infamous French peasant girl who defied the English. Joan of Arc's life story is fascinating to say the least. As a poor daughter of a peasant family in eastern France, Jeanne's life should have come and gone without so much as a footnote in the history books. So how did such a young, poor and obscure female of the 15th century become such a powerful and influential hero?
It is difficult to say. If we asked Jeanne herself, the answer would no doubt be "because it was the will of God." After all, Jeanne claimed that her "calling" came as a result of several heavenly manifestations throughout her childhood (beginning at age 12). She remained steadfast in that assertion throughout the remainder of her short life, even in the face of execution. As she stated during her interrogation and trial:
I know well that that which is contained in my case has come to me by the Commandment of God; what I affirm in the case is, that I have acted by the order of God: it is impossible for me to say otherwise. In case the Church should prescribe the contrary, I should not refer to any one in the world, but to God alone, Whose Commandment I always follow.
This is a remarkable declaration considering the fact that Jeanne d'Arc was all of nineteen years of age. To be a 15th century female of humble roots and to stand defiant against one's accusers was almost unheard of. And though inspiring to say the least, this was the least of Jeanne d'Arc's accomplishments
Regardless of where or how Jeanne d'Arc gained her military prowess one fact is undeniable: this young peasant girl was a genius. The sheer fact that she was able to gain a command with a group of male French soldiers is astounding by itself, but when we also factor in her generalship on the battle field, Jeanne's brilliance comes to life. Not only did Jeanne successfully predict a the outcomes to key battles but she was also able to effectively lead a number of successful military campaigns. As historian Stephen Richey states: "She proceeded to lead the army in an astounding series of victories that reversed the tide of the war."
Whether Jeanne was an actual battle commander in war, a standard bearer that inspired the army, or a combination of the two has been debated by historians for centuries. There is no doubt that Jeanne participated in a number of war councils with other military commanders, who resented her age, gender (which she tried to hide) and her lack of nobility. Nevertheless, virtually everyone recognized Jeanne's astounding talent, foresight, and apparent divine sanctioning. To many of her French colleagues, Jeanne was a prophetess of sorts, who had a direct line of contact to God himself. And in the wake of defeat after defeat at the hands of the English, anyone, even a young peasant girl claiming divine revelation, was a welcomed change. Her presence brought with it a change in the war. As Jeanne d'Arc herself stated:
Of the love or hatred God has for the English, I know nothing, but I do know that they will all be thrown out of France, except those who die there.
But not everyone was as quick to revere Jeanne d'Arc's supposed clairvoyance. The English, who had been on the receiving end of Jeanne's military brilliance/inspiration, denounced her as a heretic. After her capture and eventual "sale" to the English, Jeanne d'Arc was put on trial in what became a corrupt show court. Inquisitors tried to pin the French peasant down on a number of theological issues, but were cleverly rebuffed by Jeanne's keen intellect. In one of the more popular exchanges, Jeanne was asked if "she knew she was in God's grace", to which she answered "If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me." The question was meant as a trap for Jeanne. Church doctrine held that no one could be certain of being in God's grace. If she had answered yes, then she would have convicted herself of heresy. If she had answered no, then she would have confessed her own guilt (her answer was similar in tone to the one given by Jesus Christ to the Pharisees in Matthew, chapter 21:25).
Jeanne's response left inquisitors dumbfounded and forced them to convict her of heresy on bogus charges relating to her dressing as a man. Some scholars have suggested that Jeanne's apparent habit of dressing in men's clothing may have been the result of transgender issues. This is unlikely, however, due to the fact that Jeanne did so only to infiltrate enemy lines and to keep herself safe while in the army. In addition, her choice to dress in men's clothing while imprisoned was likely for protection. Instead of being placed under the care of nuns (which was customary for female prisoners), Jeanne was placed in a prison guarded by English male soldiers. Needless to say, these soldiers took advantage of the female guest who was at their mercy. Dressing in men's clothing of the time afforded Jeanne more protection from rape. As historian Robert Wirth explains:
[W]itnesses related that Joan of Arc had told them that she had worn, and had resumed, this clothing and kept the hosen and doublet "firmly fastened and tied together" because this provided her with the only means she had of protecting herself against the incidences of attempted rape which her English guards were inflicting on her. This description will be immediately understandable if one is familiar with this type of clothing. Based on a description in the Condemnation transcript itself as well as period illustrations of the general type of garment in question, her outfit was equipped with two layers of hosen securely fastened to the doublet, the inner layer being waist-high conjoined woolen hosen attached to the doublet by fully twenty cords, each cord tied into three eyelets apiece (two on the hosen and one on the doublet), for a total of forty attachment points on the inner layer of hosen. The second layer, which was made of rugged leather, seems to have been attached by yet another set of cords. Once this outfit was thus fastened together by dozens of cords connecting both layers to the doublet, it would be a substantial undertaking for someone to try to pull off these garments, especially if she was struggling.
Regardless of the practicality of wearing men's clothing for a woman in Jeanne's position, English inquisitors found her guilty of heresy. And even though she was technically justified by law to dress as a man for her protection and to preserve her chastity, Jeanne was burned at the stake on May 30, 1431. Her last words were (allegedly) "I am not afraid. I was born to do this" (again, an incredible declaration from a nineteen-year-old peasant girl).
It is probably a foregone conclusion that much of Jeanne d'Arc's legacy as a hero of France rests with the fact that France was able to defeat the English and reclaim the lands they had lost. Had England emerged victorious, it is likely that Jeanne's legacy would be quite different; a heretic rather than a hero prophetess. And we can't ignore the fact that the multiple conflicts we now call the Hundred Years' War lead to the development of early French and English nationalism, thus exalting Jeanne d'Arc to the status of a national symbol. But regardless of these facts, the remarkable life of Jeanne d'Arc is an astonishing example of unshakable faith, remarkable bravery and undaunted determination. Her life story makes even the most skeptical person wonder if maybe she really did have a divine call from heaven. Whether or not such is the case, Jeanne d'Arc remains one of the most fascinating figures in all of human history.
