An Ardent Lover

When that which is loved is at hand, love thrives; when absent it languishes.  This is simply that weariness of impatient desire by which the mind of the ardent lover is necessarily afflicted when the loved one is absent; wholly absorbed in expectation, she reckons even any haste to be slow.  And therefore she asks for an assortment of the fruits of good works made fragrant by faith in which she may rest while the bridegroom tarries.” Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermon 51.II.3, On the Song of Songs III, trans. Kilian Walsh (Kalamazoo: Cistercian, 1979), p. 42. [Emphasis added]

Here Bernard commented on Songs of Songs 2:5, “Prop me up with flowers, encompass me with apples, because I languish with love.”  Here we see again how medieval preachers and theologians used romantic rhetoric to explain the soul’s relationship to the divine.  Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but it also may cause great emotional suffering.

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Who Can Keep Silent?

“Who can contemplate Eternity being born, Power itself failing, Bread going hungry, the Spring itself growing thirsty, without becoming speechless?  But who can contemplate the beginning of our salvation, the day of human healing, without bursting forth in a voice of exultation and praise, the sound of one keeping festival?* God has been made a man; who knows how to speak about that?  Our Jesus, our Savior, our joy, comes among us; who can keep silent?  Therefore, let us rejoice in God, our salvation.* If the angels see God’s face* in jubilation, we ought at least to see God’s back* not without jubilation? ” Aelred of Rievaulx, ‘Sermon 30: For the Nativity of the Lord’ in Aelred of Rievaulx: The Liturgical Sermons, The Second Clairvaux Collection, trans. Marie Anne Mayeski (Collegeville, MN 2016), pp. 3-4 [Italics in original, but Bold print added]

Aelred of Rievaulx exemplifies the twelfth-century Cistercians’ emphasis on the Incarnation and passion of Christ in this Christmas sermon.  How could God become a human being?  Why did he do so?  Aelred hints at this when he states that believers should see God’s back in jubilation.  Cistercian theologians understood Moses’ seeing God’s back as a type of the incarnate Christ.  Aelred then describes how Moses encountering God in the burning bush foreshadowed the Word becoming flesh.  As a bush contained thorns so Christ in flesh bore the thorns of sin in his body:

“Will I now dare to say that that flesh in which was the Word that is God, God who is the consuming fire–dare I say that that flesh was the bush? Without a doubt, it is the bush, a bush that had thorns that were not his own but our thorns.  Because it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured; he was wounded for our offenses and worn out for our sins.* Let us remember his passion, let us see in what manner Pilate crowned him with thorns and said, Behold the man.*  True man, true flesh, true bush, carrying our thorns.  But why on the head? O Lord my God, it is not enough that you may be seen to bear my thorns unless you also bear them on your head!  Lord my God, crowned with my thorns!” Ibid. 5.      

*Psalm 41:3

*Psalm 94:1

*Matthew 18:20

*Exodus 33:23

*Isaiah 53:4-5

*John 19:5

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Anselm on the Incarnation

In the late eleventh century, a famous theologian wrote a book called: Cur deus homo (usually translated as Why God Became a Man).  Born in Aosta in modern northern Italy in 1033, Anselm left his home in the late 1050s and settled in Normandy at the monastery of Bec in 1059.  This meant that Duke William II of Normandy (King William I of England from 1066-86) became Anselm’s noble benefactor.  Anselm served as prior and then abbot of Bec for many years before becoming archbishop of Canterbury in 1093. He spent much of his archbishopric in exile since both King William Rufus II (d.1100) and King Henry I (d.1135) were often at odds with archbishop’s reform program.*

Anselm wrote a number of works of great significance for philosophy, theology, and devotional practice.  However, his most well-known work among modern scholars and theology students is Cur deus homo.  Following the Platonic tradition, Anselm wrote this work as a dialogue between a teacher (Anselm) and his student (a fellow monk named Boso).  Anselm wrote this book to answer the objections of unbelievers (mostly Jews) to the incarnation and death of Christ.  However, the theological schools connected to cathedrals in northern France also engendered debate regarding the purpose of the incarnation.  In the early part of the dialogue, Boso described the Jewish objections in the following manner:

“The unbelievers…charge that we do God injury and insult when we assert that he descended into the womb of a woman, that he was born of a woman, that he grew, nourished by milk and human foods, and–not to speak of many other things that seem inappropriate for God–that he bore weariness, hunger, thirst, blows, and a cross and death between the thieves.”**

To the Jews it seemed irrational and certainly against the nature of God to do such things.  Therefore, Anselm wanted to explain why it was fitting, rational, and right for God to become a human being.  Most significantly, the incarnation became the means of God’s reconciliation with sinful humanity.  In the Fall, human beings violated God’s honor through disobedience and suffered the just penalty of God’s anger.  Justice demanded satisfaction of this debt, but God is merciful.  This reconciliation could only take place if a man made satisfaction for the disobedience.  However, only God could make such an offering because the offering must be greater than everything except God.  Therefore, a God-man must necessarily perform it to redeem humanity as Anselm explained to Boso:

If then, as is certain, that the celestial city must be completed from among men, and this cannot happen unless the aforesaid satisfaction is made, while no one save God can make it and no one save man ought to make it, it is necessary for a God-Man to make it.***

*On Anselm see R.W. Southern, Saint Anselm: A Portrait in a Landscape (Cambridge 1990).

**Anselm of Canterbury, Why God Became Man i. iii., in A Scholastic Miscellany: Anselm to Ockham (Philadelphia 1956), p. 104.

***Anselm, Why God Became Man ii. vii., Scholastic Miscellany, p. 151; Cf. Southern, Saint Anselm, pp. 205-207.

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Philosophy as Obedience to the Divine

“Men of Athens, I honor and love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have life and strength, I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of philosophy, exhorting any one whom I meet after my manner, and convincing him, saying: O my friend, why do you, who are a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city of Athens, care so much about laying up the greatest amount of money and honor and reputation, and so little about wisdom and truth and the greatest improvement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at all? Are you not ashamed of this?” Plato, Apology [of Socrates] in The Trial and Death of Socrates: Four Dialogues (New York: Dover, 1992), pp. 30-31. [Emphasis added] 

In this work, Plato set forth his version of Socrates’ statement of defense in response to the charges against him by the Athenian government.  These charges included impiety against the gods of Athens and corruption of the Athenian youth.  In his defense Socrates argued that the god at Delphi had commissioned him to lead the people of Athens into self-examination and inquiry.  This drew many of the elite young men (like Plato) of Athens to him as their teacher.  Socrates explained that the purpose of his teaching was the pursuit of virtue.  And if this teaching violated the laws of Athens, then he was guilty.  However, a higher law, inspired by the divine, compelled him to continue teaching.  Socrates proclaimed:

“For this is the command to God, as I would have you know; and I believe that to this day no greater good has ever happened in the state than my service to the God.  For I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul.  I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue come money and every other good of man, public as well as private.  This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth, my influence is ruinous indeed.  But if any one says that this is not my teaching, he is speaking an untruth.” Ibid., p. 31. [Emphasis added]

 

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Fighting for the Luxury and Wealth of Others

 “‘Those savage beasts,’ said he, ‘in Italy, have their particular dens, they have their places of repose and refuge; but the men who bear arms, and expose their lives for the safety of their country, enjoy in the meantime nothing more in it but the air and light; and, having no houses or settlements of their own, are constrained to wander from  place to place with their wives and children.’  He told them that the commanders were guilty of a ridiculous error, when, at the head of their armies, they exhorted the common soldiers to fight for their sepulchres and altars; when not any amongst so many Romans is possessed of either altar or monument, neither have they any houses of their own, or hearths of their ancestors to defend.  They fought indeed and were slain, but it was to maintain the luxury and wealth of other men.” Plutarch, The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans, trans. John Dryden, revised by Arthur H. Clough. reprint of 1864 edition (New York: Modern Library), 999.  [Emphasis added]

Here we read Plutarch’s description of Tiberius Gracchus’ speech concerning the suffering of the common Roman soldier for the interests of the Roman nobles.  Tiberius Gracchus represented the populist politician (populares) of the late 2nd century BC.  He recognized how the wars of the Repubic had led to corruption and great oppression of the average Roman citizen.  It seems that it’s always been a Rich Man’s War and a Poor Man’s Fight.

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The Foolishness of the Cross

“For the word of the cross, to them indeed that perish, is foolishness; but to them that are saved, that is, to us, it is the power of God.” I Corinthians 1:18

Based on St Paul’s text, Geoffrey Babion, a twelfth-century theologian, explained how God chose a seemingly foolish way to redeem sinful human beings.  Only the faithful could see something so outwardly shameful as a man dying in a horrific manner on a cross  as the power of God.  Geoffrey, then, gave a lengthy explanation of humanity’s fall and Christ’s redemption:

“When he was similar to God, the man had honor.  He did not understand, when he sinned.  Therefore, he was made similar to a beast of burden, when by sinning he became irrational.  Two creatures had sinned, namely, the devil and the man. But one [sinned] by himself, and the other [sinned] through another.  Therefore, since the devil [sinned] by himself, he did not deserve to be restored, particularly since he consists of such a subtle and spiritual essence.  The man, since he was made from dirt, since he was deceived by such a cunning tempter, did not lose the hope of forgiveness.  Therefore, although God and man were such opposites, neither the hope of forgiveness or redemption by such a just judge should be denied.  Divine providence looked for the most equitable manner of reconciliation.  For reason demanded that whoever wants to join two contrary things together, places such a thing between them that has a connection with both things.” Geoffrey Babion [Falsely attributed to Hildebert], In festo exaltationis sanctae crucis, PL 171: 683C-D [My translation]

Geoffrey demonstrates a great familiarity with the teachings regarding the fall of humanity and redemption in the twelfth-century schools here.  His explanation in this sermon reflects Anselm of Canterbury’s basic doctrine of reconciliation of sinful human beings with a just God in his famous dialogue, Why God Became Man.  Notice how Geoffrey continued in the next section:

“Moreover, when such from one part was God, the ignoble man was so much from the other part, so that they had to be reconciled, and through such a mediator, who was God and a human being.  If He had wanted to redeem angels, He would have taken on the angelic nature, but since He determined that only human beings were worthy for redemption, He took on human nature, a subservient person in a reasonable manner.” Ibid., 683C-684A.    

 

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The Price of Satisfaction: Bernard of Clairvaux’s View of Redemption

“You lived, O man, in darkness and the shadow of death through ignorance of the truth; you were a prisoner and your sins were your shackles.  He [Jesus] came down to you in your prison, not to torture you but to liberate you from the power of darkness.  And first of all, as the Teacher of Truth, he banished the murk of your ignorance by the light of his wisdom.  By ‘the righteousness that comes of faith’ (Rom. 9:30) he loosed the bonds of sin, justifying the sinners by his free gift.  Furthermore, by living holily in the midst of sinners he laid down a pattern of life that is pathway back to the fatherland.” Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermon 22, On the Song of Songs II, trans. Kilian Walsh (Kalamazoo: Cistercian, 1983), p. 19. 

In this sermon from Bernard’s series on the Song of Songs, we may observe his preaching on the redemption of sinful humanity by the incarnate Christ.  Here he explained to his fellow monks (and later readers) that Jesus came to free human beings from the chains of sin through the gift of righteousness received by faith.  However, notice Bernard explained that Christ had demonstrated the sanctified way of living based on love.  He continued:

“As a gesture of love he surrendered himself to death and from his own side produced the price of satisfaction that would placate his Father, thus clearly making his own the verse: ‘It is with the Lord that mercy is to be found, and a generous redemption.’* Utterly generous, for not a mere drop but a wave of blood flowed unchecked from the five wounds of his body.” Ibid.  [Emphasis added]

Bernard uses the image of satisfaction of the Father’s honor here derived from Anselm of Canterbury’s teaching on redemption.  In the twelfth century, preachers, such as Bernard, used this image of satisfaction and also the idea the ransom theory.  This is the idea that Christ redeemed sinful humanity from the power of the devil, sin, and death through His crucifixion, death, and resurrection.  Notice also Bernard’s graphic description of Christ’s Passion and bloody wounds.   He often connected his theology of redemption with meditation on this Passion that so greatly shaped late medieval religious devotion.            

*Psalm 129:7 (Vulgate)

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The Spiritual Castle

“The blessed Virgin Mary herself, whose glorious assumption we are celebrating today, was beyond doubt blest because she welcomed the Son of God in body but she was more blest because she had welcomed him in spirit…let us make ready a spiritual castle and our Lord shall come to us.  I dare say that if the Blessed Mary had not prepared this castle within herself, the Lord Jesus would not have entered her womb or her spirit.” Aelred of Rievaulx, ‘Sermon 19: For the Assumption of Saint Mary’ in Aelred of Rievaulx: The Liturgical Sermons, trans. Theodore Berkeley and M. Basil Pennington (Kalamazoo 2001), p. 264. [Emphasis  added]

In the twelfth century, preachers increasingly focused on devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary as the locus of the incarnation of Christ and the divine virtues associated with her.  These theologians also exhorted their hearers (or readers) to imitate Mary and her virtues.  Preachers, like Aelred, used an allegorical interpretation of the Latin word, castellum.  While the word, castle, derives from this Latin word, it could also mean simply, village or town.  The Gospel reading for this sermon contained Luke 10:38: “Now it came to pass as they went, that he entered into a certain town (castellum): and a certain woman named Martha, received him into her house.” 

Aelred imagines the Blessed Virgin to be a spiritual castle associated with certain virtues and calls upon his fellow monks to emulate those virtues by building a castle within themselves. He explained how a castle has three main parts: a moat, a wall, and a tower. The moat corresponds to humility because this virtue must be established in the heart. The spiritual wall is chastity that arises out of a humble heart. Finally, the tower is charity because charity rises above all the other virtues. The Virgin Mary possessed humility, chastity, and charity more than any others. Especially, charity, as Aelred explained:

“Who can say how perfectly the most blessed Mary this tower? If Peter loved his Lord, how much did the Blessed Mary love her Lord and her Son! How much she loves her neighbors–that is, [all] men and women–is demonstrated by the many miracles and the many visions by which the Lord has deigned to show that she prays in a special way to her Son for the whole human race.” Ibid., 267.

 

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The Languor of Love

“Love is an affliction, and the suffering of a soul that is sick.  The authority of the poet [Ovid]–even though it seems unworthy and unsuitable–affirms the truth of this, when he says, ‘Woe is me, for no herb can cure love.’ But for the religious minds, it should be enough that this is the voice of the bride.  She states what she feels and says: ‘I am afflicted with love.’  Let us then consider, therefore, whether all love is an affliction.” Baldwin of Ford (Canterbury), ‘Tractate XIV: On the Order of the Charity,’ in Spiritual Tractates, vol. 2 trans. David N. Bell (Kalamazoo: Cistercian, 1986), p. 141.

Baldwin, a Cistercian abbot, later became Archbishop of Canterbury in the 1180s.  In his recorded sermons he wrote extensively on the nature of love.  As a Cistercian, he was continuing his Order’s traditional focus on love that began with Bernard of Clairvaux’s sermons on the Song of Songs.  Here Baldwin explains Song of Songs 2:4-5: 

“He brought me into the cellar of wine, he set in order charity in me.  Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples: because I languish with love.”  The Latin text for the last part reads:  “…quia amore langueo,” which we could translate as “…since I am weakened by love,” or as translated above: “I am afflicted with love.”  

While Baldwin does discuss various types of love in the following sermon, he focuses on divine charity.  However, consider the fact that he began this sermon with a reference to Ovid (the lascivious Roman poet).  The transposition of Eros to Caritas for rhetorical effect in order to explain divine love characterized much of the monastic exposition of holy Scripture in the twelfth century.  Consider how another writer described romantic love in this famous work: 

“Love is a certain inborn suffering derived from the sight of and excessive meditation upon the beauty of the opposite sex, which causes each one to wish above all things the embraces of the other and by common desire to carry out all of love’s precepts in the other’s embrace.” Andreas Capellanus, The Art of Courtly Love, trans. John J. Parry (New York: Columbia, 1960), p. 28.  

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The Ladder to Heaven

“Truly, the cross of Christ is a ladder reaching into heaven from earth, because through the faith of the cross, through imitation of the Passion, man returns from exile to the homeland, from death to life, from earth to heaven, from the desert of this world to paradise. By this ladder the angels ascend and descend, that is, the preachers of Christ, descend, when they preach the weakness of the cross; they ascend, when they preach the wisdom and power of God; for the foolishness of Christ is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men. (I Cor. 1:25) Christ was nailed to this ladder when he was nailed to the cross.” Alan of Lille, De sancta cruce (On the Holy Cross), Patrologia Latina, vol. 210, col. 224. [My translation]

Alan of Lille, a Parisian theologian in the twelfth century, wrote these words in a sermon for Good Friday.  His work reflects the interest among teachers at that time in the Christ’s redemption of sinners on the cross.  This sermon describes the Passion of Christ as steps on the ladder of the cross.  These steps include Christ’s mercy, humility, obedience, penalty, suffering, and death.  Alan explains how Christ climbed these steps in place of sinners.  He concluded:

“The final step in the Passion was death. A marvelous death, a death which kills off death itself, gives life, weakens the sting of death, conquers the devil, and eradicates sin.  Through these steps of the ladder, Christ ascended into heaven. However, there was a triple ascent of Christ. The first, he ascended as he suffered [on the cross].  The second, he ascended when he was brought back to life.  The third, he ascended as he was glorified at the right hand of the Father.  In the first ascent, he ascended to death.  In the second, he ascended to immortality. In the third, he ascended to majesty.” PL 210:225 [My translation]

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