Philosophy

E:

A very thorough summary. Thanks.

It puts into context the process of how the Bible has been subject to such a mass of contradictory interpretation down the ages. There are 22,000 sects and churches claiming to be Christian and all citing the Bible as the source of their authority.

A fascinating thesis (that biblical literalism is a 19th C product).

Thank you Elephantsdhild.

Although this does have links to some areas of romanticism, in particular a new and radical awareness of the position of individuals and societies in an historical context, I am not wholly convinced.

I do not see why Calvin, Luther, Zwingli and Knox are not biblical literalists, selectively literal, but literal none the less. I had always thought that for protestants the bible was the authority (at least in theory – in practice Calvin would never brook dissent), while Roman Catholicism put the Pope and the holy see in Rome as the authority, making the Pope the anti-Christ.

A book such as this should be more disturbing to fundamentalists than books that explain evolution.

Given the tendency of some political pressure groups and politicians to cite the bible uncritically, books such as this are very necessary. The trouble for someone like me who is happy to manage without religion for the most part (actually I think organised religion is malignant – particularly in today’s world), is that generally I lack sufficient motivation to get immersed in the fine details – this makes the summary doubly welcome!

Martin

I agree that certain churches at particular times were more literal than others – and these were mainly protestant.

Your point about organised religion being malignant is interesting. I used to feel the same, particularly about the more literalist groups, which tend to be the most intolerant of others. I also found the history, doctrines and metaphysics rather ridiculous. This attitude (not far removed from a certain famous atheist commenter in another place) probably resulted from an inability of any church people (lay or clerical) to answer my questions.

I have always loved ecclesiastical architecture and sacred music, though, and I began recently to look at the Christian balance sheet. My attitude has begun to soften a little – not in favour of Christian doctrine, which I still find risible – but in its legacy.

Graylings’ view that the Enlightenment would have happened 1,500 years earlier if it weren’t for Christianity is unsupportable. I now think that science and modern philosophy (thus the Enlightenment) grew out of Christianity. The Dark Ages were not caused by Christianity as I once thought. And perhaps they weren’t so uniformly dark anyway.

It is impossible, of course, to go back and see what it would have been like to have taken a different fork in the road but I think the one dimensional view of Christianity as being wholly negative is too glib.

My father, himself atheist for most of his life, came from the northern working class Methodist tradition of self-improvement. The churches provided what the state did, and arguably could, not.

Yes, of course, organised religion has been responsible for some atrocious behaviour – often this has been at the behest of politicians. And of course the church tried to hold on power when it began to slip away. But churches are human institutions with all that entails, good and bad.

Martin and Boltonian:

Allow me to put in a good word for Protestantism in relation to biblical scholarship. Yes – the emphasis on ’sola scriptura’ undoubtedly led to literalism in some quarters. On the other hand this same emphasis on taking the Bible seriously, if you like, led to biblical crticism and the insights that have come from that. Many biblical scholars end up having to study German to read the set texts in Biblical scholarship(such as Rudolf Bultman or Albert Schweitzer) that have predominantly come from scholars in the Lutheran/Reformed tradition. German phrases such as ’sitz im leben’ – setting in life, or ‘heilgeschichte’ – salvation history pepper the pages of these texts and many of the best tools of Biblical scholarship – concordances, lexicons etc are either only available in German, or translations of the German.

Martin:

Before I forget… I agree with your point that a book such as Armstrong’s (which I must confess I haven’t read) causes more problems for fundamentalists than science teaxtbooks.

Martin, boltonian

Perhaps, in my attempt to summarise the main points of the book I have over simplified the argument about Biblical literalism. Armstong’s thesis concerns the somewhat crude type of blanket literalism which characterises modern fundamentalism, and which she sees as, paradoxically, a by-product of post-Enlightenment thinking. And this only came to the fore in the 19th century when the results of Biblical scholarship began to challenge people’s ideas as to what sort of book the Bible was. Religious conservatives had come to think that the contents had to be factual in their entirety or else there was no truth or value in it at all, and this attitude was, whether they realised it or not, conditioned by post-Enlightenment rationalism. They were no longer capable of appreciating the role that mythology or allegory might play in conveying any kind of truth.

She does not, however, argue that literal reading of the Bible was something new. On the contrary, many people – perhaps most – had always accepted it as a more or less factual and historical record. But even for the founders of Protestantism, this was to a large extent a secondary issue; they were more concerned about what they thought it had to say on matters such as man’s relationship to God, the nature of Redemption and what constituted a Christian life (arriving, of course, at a variety of different conclusions). Revelation in the OT was in any case generally seen as imperfect.

WRT the observation by Martin and gordy, that the book is potentially even more disturbing to fundamentalists than text books on the theory of evolution, Armstrong makes the point that reaction in religious circles to the publication of Darwin’s theories was initially considerably less strong than the reaction to the publication of works of Biblical criticism. It was only with the Scopes trial in 1920 that creationism became a leading issue among fundamentalists.

Hi elephantschild, thanks for the fascinating potted history.
I have a feeling, although am no expert and base this mostly on anecdotic observation, that the Christian fundamentalists seem to give more importance to the Mosaic law (an eye for an eye and so on) than to the Christian teachings of love and redemption, in matters of private conscience. This if true is wonderfully paradoxical. Does Armstrong shed any light on this ?
Clearly, ignoring Christian teachings is nothing new in the Christian community, but in more robust days (the Albigensian crusade comes to mind) it would seem to have been more a matter of ‘pure’ politics .

Hi eeyore,
You make a very good point, but it also seems to me that fundamentalism reflects personality type more than belief. So where do our personalities come from? Big question, and off-topic for this thread, but I’m very interested in the way personality types and belief systems interact.

Eeyore:

You are very welcome.

PS:

Welcome back.

Off topic or not I am also very interested in the causes of fundamentalism, extremism and the need for absolute certainty.

I came to the view that one’s philosophical and cultural leanings were largely a matter of temperament many years ago.

Adult behaviour is governed, so the scientists would have it, by three main influences: genes (50%); outside the home childhood environment (45%); and in the home childhood environment (5%). These are not rigid proportions; for example parents usually choose the parameters within which outside the home environment takes place, such as church, school, social contacts etc.

These factors will determine our adult temperament. At one end of this spectrum (Type A, shall we say) there are people who need absolute certainty in their lives and find the concept of the unknown frightening. These are the least curious of beings and form the fundamentalist wing of the party. At the opposite extreme are those (Type B) who see merit in every argument, strive for consensus and are, consequently, indecisive and regard all views as equally valid.

Most of us lie somewhere in between these extremes, although I know a few who could fit one or other of these categories.

I suggest that the need for certainty comes from our ability to create complete pictures from scant information. This help to form instant judgments and aids decision-making. The ability to distinguish between prey and predator is a useful quality. We have not evolved much in this area since our hunter-gatherer days. For example, we make instant judgments about people we have just met despite the ludicrously tiny amount of information we have accrued.

Those at the opposite end of the spectrum are more social animals and strive to ensure the cohesion of the group and that nobody feels alienated. Social skills are one of our few natural attributes and without them we would not have survived.

If everybody in the tribe were a Type A and formed an instant, but differing, view on something; without the consensus-making efforts of the Type Bs there would be a sub-optimal chance of survival. Both types are needed.

This variation manifests itself in all sorts of ways: not least whether, and how strongly, we are religious. It also drives our tastes and philosophical preferences.

An objection might be that one changes one’s views and tastes with age and experience. This is true but only within the framework that I have outlined. Thus a Type A will have formed his views early in life and will stick with these until they become untenable, whereupon he will flip over to another set of certainties (often the complete antithesis of his previous position). Type Bs (Team workers in Belbin terminology) will always be thus however long they live.

Hi Eeyore

Armstrong does not discuss that aspect of fundamentalism specifically, but the explanation is implicit in several strands of her argument.

First of all, after the Reformation, and with printed editions of the Bible in the vernacular and available to everyone literate, it became possible for anyone to interpret it without reference to or even knowledge of traditional forms of exegesis. What is more, this was the first time that most people, even scholars, had seen (or heard) it as a whole, complete with all the Old Testament texts, many of which had previously been unfamiliar, even to people such as Luther. Calvin and Zwingli in particular thought it important that their congregations should be familiar with the entire book, although Calvin stressed that the OT should be understood as a record of progressive revelation, adapted to the mentality of an earlier generation.

The idea of God as stern judge of a sinful people which Protestants of a Puritan persuasion took from the OT may have had a pre-Reformation origin. People had been left feeling anxious and helpless in the face of catastrophes such as the Black Death, the Great Schism when as many as three rival Popes had claimed the See of Peter, and the fall of Constantinople to the Ottoman Turks, and in that context Biblical stories of plagues and disasters had come to have a particular resonance.

The religious freedoms which the Puritans set out to establish in North America led ultimately to a proliferation of sects, and to the kind of Biblical literalism promoted by the Bible Colleges. If all parts of the Bible are regarded as equally the revealed Word of God and therefore of equal importance, and if people feel free to take from it what they choose, it is understandable that some of the sects have ended up placing so much emphasis on selected parts of the OT (ignoring, in the process, all the inconsistencies and contradictions). Earlier exegetes in both the Christian and the Jewish Rabbinical tradition maintained that interpretation should always be in a spirit of compassion and charity, but this seems to have been forgotten, as has the notion of the importance of observing the spirit rather than the letter of the Law, expressed in the NT and in the words attributed to the Rabbi Hillel, Jesus’s contemporary (’What is hateful to yourself, do not to your fellow man. That is the whole of the Torah and the remainder is but commentary’).

Listening to ‘In Our Time’ on the Council of Nicaea earlier today (mentioned in the Chatroom) I realised that I had formed a rather simplistic view of the development of Christian doctrine. The Council, convened by Constantine to try to establish one underpinning religion for the empire, was the start of a process not its culmination. Arianism, for example, was not declared heretical and its adherents purged until sometime later. Arius, for example, was about to be rehabilitated but died the day before his planned recall.

Here is Bragg’s extract from the Nicene Creed.

‘Given the season of the year and given the extraordinary importance to Christianity of the Nicene Creed, I thought you might like to have in front of you the final (ish) version of the Creed, which was based on the creed of the First Council of Nicaea in 325 but very much developed at the First Council of Constantinople in 381:

”We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father; by whom all things were made; who for us men, and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, and was made man; he was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate, and suffered, and was buried, and the third day he rose again, according to the Scriptures, and ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of the Father; from thence he shall come again, with glory, to judge the quick and the dead; whose kingdom shall have no end.

And in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of life, who proceedeth from the Father, who with the Father and the Son together is worshiped and glorified, who spake by the prophets. In one holy catholic and apostolic Church; we acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins; we look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.”

What is most intriguing about the development of this Creed is the mixture between high thinking and brutal politics. The words used to try to define and re-define the relationship between God and Christ and the Holy Spirit was so particular and abstract, so Greek and philosophical, and yet what was also on the table was an extremely blunt soldierly attack on this powerful force in order to put its dynamism at the service of the state.

You could say that Christianity has never recovered from the double blow. One to put this great faith under the control of the state or to allow the state to take it over – little choice there. Another to attempt to describe and rationalise what in terms of faith is beyond rationalisation – which is what drives some of the scientists crazy of course.

Nevertheless, along the way, with words like consubstantial and co-eternal and whether the Holy Spirit was feminine and whether the Son of God was ever “not”, areas of interest which I think apply to physics as much as religion were raised and disputed for centuries and they were somehow the hinge in the development and placing of Christianity in the history, often the bloody and murderous history, of Europe.’

Boltonian

Many thanks for bringing the ‘In Our Time’ broadcast to my attention; I would have missed it otherwise. At the moment I am part way through reading Peter Brown’s ‘The Rise of Western Christendom’, so it was particularly relevant.

The Eastern Emperors never did succeed in imposing doctrinal uniformity – even Justinian failed to bring the Monophysites to heel. BTW did you know that the Vandals and Goths were Arians? When the Visigoths in Spain eventually did convert to Catholicism, it was on their own terms, and they were motivated chiefly by the need to get the local Catholic Bishops on-side in order to resist the attempts by the Eastern Empire to reassert its influence in the region.

Once Christianity had been adopted as the official religion of the Roman Empire, it was pretty much inevitable that the Church would be co-opted as an arm of government. The practice of religion had always been closely bound up with the political structure of the Roman state and with the conduct of civic life, and the state had always been concerned with the proper observance of the religious rites seen as necessary for the health of the community. The consequences in the aftermath of the fall of the Western Empire are interesting, and it could be argued that they were not wholly bad.

In the formal religion of the towns and cities of the Eastern Empire the grand churches and the liturgy promoted an image of cosmic order which reflected the hierarchy of the Imperial court. Here, also, Bishops took over many of the functions formerly carried out by civil magistrates. On the other hand, the population in general tended to turn for spiritual guidance to the ascetic holy men and women of the desert monasteries and hermitages, who represented a parallel and far less regulated movement within Christianity.

In the lands of the former Western Empire, the Church played a vital role in maintaining Roman culture and mediating the transition to a new order. Following the withdrawal of the legions, the civil administration collapsed, and it was the Church which filled the vacuum, providing the organisation and administrative expertise which kept the towns functioning, and which the Barbarian rulers in Gaul, for example, took full advantage of. (The situation in Britain, where the towns had been in decline for nearly a century, was rather different). Members of the educated Roman aristocracy, who would once have entered the civil service, now became Bishops. The network of connections which the Church continued to maintain across the fragmented landscape of Barbarian kingdoms and with the Eastern Empire was also hugely important. Without it, the history of early medieval Europe would almost certainly have been far more catastrophic, and the detrimental effects of ecclesiastical power and involvement in politics on the religion of medieval Europe at a later date have to be balanced against this consideration.

E:

Thanks for this. Isn’t life (and history, therefore) far more complex than we would like to believe?

I think some of the black/white; good/bad commenters on CiF would do well to bear this in mind.

It is also impossible to say how things would have turned out had circumstances or events been different. Chaos theory rules our world and accurate prediction impossible.

I think I am right in saying that behaviour (in terms of momentum and location) of more than three bodies in a gravitational field is impossible to predict accurately. Perhaps those with more science than me can confirm this.

It (your comment) also highlights the fragile nature of civilisation.

I have a half-read book (one of many, I’m afraid) on the shelf by a chap called Richard Fletcher on the Barbarian Conversion. I find it fascinating but hard-going. Do you know of him? I came across him when I read his obituary in the newspaper a couple of years ago.

Boltonian

‘Isn’t life (and history, therefore) far more complex than we would like to believe?’

Agreed; that is one of the things that make it, for me, so fascinating. And it doesn’t come much more complex than in the case of post-Roman Europe. Maybe people such as the commenters you mention just feel more comfortable with simple narratives (especially those which support their prejudices). Or maybe it is the way history is taught.

I hadn’t come across Richard Fletcher’s book, but I have just been reading some of the reviews, and it does sound rather heavy going. I recall once writing a (no doubt callow) essay on the conversion of the barbarians, noting the differences between those who encountered Christianity within parts of the former empire where something of the administrative organisation of the empire had survived; those who were already Christian when they arrived, but of the ‘wrong’ sort; those who entered parts of the empire where Christianity survived but the administrative structures didn’t to any significant degree (as in Britain); and those who remained outside the former empire (e.g. Scandinavians, Slavs etc.)

Peter Brown doesn’t go into the question of conversion except in passing, and although I am finding his book an enjoyable read, I suspect that I would be getting less out of it if I were not already familiar to some extent with the archaeology and history of the period. Even so, I have broken off to re-read Wallace-Hadrill’s ‘The Barbarian West’, a book I haven’t opened in decades but which covers the same period from a rather different angle.

Boltonian & ElephantsChild – thanks for InOurTime link – have listened to half of it. (I think – though can’t remember for sure – that C. Humfress – the female participant – was the external marker for a messy dissertation year before last. Never met her – but interesting historian). Some thoughts brewing on Nicaea…will let you know when intelligible.

By the way – I picked up that Fletcher book a few years back (before early medieval days) and ‘lost’ it at home only to stumble across it last week. I agree that it’s not so accessible at first glance. I wonder, ElephantsChild, about Brown’s ‘The Rise of Western Christendom’. Even though I forage in early medieval Europe, my knowledge is hit and miss (because of background). I found Brown nonetheless accessible even for those considerable bits about which I know nothing (e.g. that proto-Ethiopian Christian empire in late antiquity he mentions!). By the way, on conversion, I’ll dig out some notes from a very interesting book I was reading in summer. It is mainly later medieval. But the opening looks at a 9th century dispute between two Carolingian theologians – Paschasius Radbertus and Ratramnus – on the Eucharist. It is, at first glance, pretty ‘high fallutin’. (Actually, even at the abstract level, it’s really quite fascinating and I’m convinced that a few cynics might be converted when one translates the debate into more modern categories – signifier/signified?). What was interesting was a suggestion that the debate – and Paschasius’ presentation in particular – related to the difficulties of ‘translating’ Christian ideas over to the ‘newly’ (a generation previously, I guess) converted Saxons. Will have to dig, though, to go into it more.

ChooChoo

If I gave the impression that I thought The Rise of Western Christendom might be inaccessible to anyone without prior knowledge of the period, I apologise; ’twas not my intention. What I meant was that bits of information remembered (or half remembered, given my somewhat erratic memory) are slotting in as I read to build up a more comprehensive picture – rather like building up a picture from jig-saw puzzle pieces. As my A Level history teacher used to say ‘Never rely on a single source’.

I would be interested to know more about the debate touching on the difficulty of translating Christian ideas for the benefit of the Saxons (presumably the ones living beyond the Rhine, rather than the Anglo-Saxons). They do seem to have been a recalcitrant bunch, but then their original ‘conversion’ was more or less at the point of a sword, which can’t have helped!

ElephantsChild – sorry! When I said that I thought that you were saying etc. I wholeheartedly agree with you on the Brown book then.

The book I had in mind is by Rachel Fulton: From Judgment to Passion: Devotion to Christ and the Virgin Mary 800-1200. (It won some prizes, I believe, stateside). I have only read the opening third – after 10th century (really, 9th) wasn’t of use to me at that time (and I can start floundering names and dates wise). It follows the intensifying intimacy of forms of devotion to Mary and Christ in the period. Will check out those notes.

Absolutely, by the way, on the Saxon converts. But the interesting thing is, first, even at the time there was a diversity of reactions to Charlemagne’s approach (incl Alcuin’s). I understand that at this time texts like Augustine’s De Cathecizandis Rudibus (I think that’s the common name) became popular: but this is not a forced conversion justification/manual text. Far from it: the whole question of trans-lation interests churchmen (as it did Augustine). Sensitive churchmen were keenly aware of the intricate problems of conversion. The relation to Paschasius Radbertus, by the way, is that – Fulton argues – part of this whole debate on the Eucharist (on the power of words when uttered, on signification etc) stemmed from different notions of such verbal power among the Saxons (not Anglo-Saxons, sure), some of whom would have numbered among his monks at Corbie. (Incidentally, he was, I believe, a foundling, which is more obviously relevant to what I look at).

What happened to the main chatroom ?

I’d just like to mention The Hidden Story of Jesus, which is still available on 4oD or googlevid if you’re outside UK.

Although it’s (deliberately) populist and lowbrow, I still found it worth my time.

Hi Chris

Welcome and thanks for the recommendation.

If you click on older posts and then scroll down you will find our chatroom there.

I am not sure why nothing appears when ‘Our main chatroom’ is clicked under categories. Gordy might know.

Chris/Boltonian

What should happen is Our Main Chatroom should appear in red writing at the top of a more or less empty page but if you click on the red writing you will get to all the posts.

We could archive the existing chatroom and make a new one which would be a separate page always one click away from the front page if that was what the feeling was – my only concern is that it would diviide the chat up which I suppose has happened here anyway…

Your thoughts are most welcome…

Gordy:

Many thanks.

I hadn’t realised that I needed to click twice on ‘Our Main Chatroom.’ Duh!

Now you have put me right I am quite happy with the present arrangement but feel free to change it if others think it would be an improvement.

Chris

Thanks for the suggestion. I had meant to record it on Xmas Day but I think it clashed with Dr Who… I enjoyed watching it.

ElephantsChild – here’s a potted summary of the first few chapters from Rachel Fulton’s ‘From Judgment to Passion: Devotion to Christ and Mary, 800-1200′. The details are all from her (except for one or two asides). On the other hand, my presentation does not do justice to how carefully argued these chapters are and glosses over many details.

Two backgrounds to bear in mind are, first, the problematic of the Eucharist. The debate upon which Fulton concentrates is the mid-9th century one between Paschasius Radbertus (c.786-860), who became abbot of the Abbey at Corbie (from which he later resigned) and Ratramnus of Corbie, (d. after 868), a monk at Corbie.

The other background relates to the conversion of the Saxons (and Avars) from the late 8th century on. This was accompanied by the reforms undertaken under Charlemagne to standardise and Romanise Gallican liturgy, to renew and Christianise society etc, as famously embodied in his ‘Admonitio Generalis’ in 789 (and in subsequent capitularies etc).

These two backgrounds are not unrelated. The overall aim was not only to resolve discrepancies (e.g. liturgical – another e.g. are the reform councils between 810-830, at which the plethora of ‘penitentials’ – handbooks for confessors – were scrutinised) nor only to foster unity, but also understanding. It is, thus, not surprising that the question of the Eucharist received much attention.

Related to this, too, was the question of converted groups. Fulton argues that, to these converts in particular, the received language surrounding the sacraments did not mean much: it could not be intelligible without being translated.

Paschasius Radbertus was one example of someone attempting to face up to these challenges, particularly in relation to understanding and instruction. Indeed, it may have been a particularly pressing problem at Corbie, where under Adalhard (abbot from 780-815 and Charlemagne’s cousin), numerous Saxons had been resettled.

Paschasius’ work on the Eucharist was written at the behest of one Warin, a former student and part Saxon by birth, who had various monks under his charge as a ‘magister’. Paschasius went on to send his work (’De Corpore et Sanguine Domini’, ‘On the Body and Blood of the Lord’) to the emperor, Charles the Bald, in 843/4 and it seems to have caused quite a stir. One response came from Ratramnus, a monk at Corbie.

The details of this debate are intricate (though, I don’t think, uninteresting). They were vital for later history and even, for instance, for Reformation and post-Reformation narratives (one conventional reading casts Paschasius as arguing for ‘real presence’ and Ratramnus as denying this: this is, I think, a v misleading take). But I’ll leave these details for now. Rather, I’ll just introduce Fulton’s thoughts on the particular influence of the context of conversion.

Back in the original programme for the Saxons, their ‘education’ was part of the plan, including what we might now call religious education (again, the famous Admonitio Generalis is an example). In particular, explaining ‘baptism’ would be important. Another important aspect would be the Mass.

This education, of course, was not simply for the Saxons, but for everyone. But, the particular situation entailed some differences. The 9th century was a time when the Mass was increasingly represented as, in Fulton’s words, a “sacred drama”. The insistence on (corrected Roman) Latin entailed “rigidifying the language of prayer” (or, to be more precise, a particular aspect of communal worship). For the Franks, this was archaising (though the extent to which it was alienating or distancing is not as simple a question as it might first appear). But, for Saxons, Latin, far from having pristine undertones, was simply a “foreign and imported language”.

Now, conventionally – and not unreasonably – this general ‘rigidification’ of the liturgy under the Carolingians is taken as, either, the consolidation of “a clerico-monastic monopoly” over the laity [NB that the 'laity' was not quite a category as it was later to become: in passing, Paschasius, though one time abbot, was not a consecrated priest]; or, the nadir of the typical (for the ‘dark ages’) barbarian popular religion, which the reforms helped to purge.

Fulton does not deny the utility of these approaches. But, she stresses that conversion was not only about the religiosity of the convert, but also about the religion of which the convert becomes part. And, further, contemporaries were more than aware of this: in the 8th century, the influential Alcuin advised one Arno of Salzburg, who was active among the Avars, that he should teach first and not baptise willy-nilly, drawing upon Augustine’s ‘De Catechizandis Rudibus’ (roughly, ‘On catechising the lowly’). This Augustinian text, stressed, among other things, the importance of translation, of carrying across ideas and practices, and the changes these entail, not only for those to whom they are conveyed, but also for what is conveyed and who is conveying them. For instance, Augustine had written:

“For so great is the power of sympathy [animi compatientis affectus], that when people are affected by us as we speak and we by them as we learn, we dwell in each other and thus both they, as it were, speak in us what they hear, while we, after a fashion, learn in them what we teach.”

In general, Carolingian clerics sought to convey these ideas to Franks through instruction in historical types – pre-eminently, the Incarnation – of which the Franks, among whom we can assume had at least a dim awareness of these narratives, could relate.

The problem with the Saxons was that these held no resonance for them. So missionaries and monks (including Paschasius) stressed what Augustine had called ‘animi compatientis affectus’ (above) and ‘dilectio’ or ‘caritas’ (love). This was, it must be added, alongside (and after) the undoubted coercion (and bloodshed) that the Saxons suffered (most famously at Verdun in 782). Fulton notes that plausibility of conversion through persuasion rather than coercion must not be wholly ruled out for the early 9th century. (This complicates the simplistic bad guy character known as the church-state axis that animates so many grand narratives in the actually rather ahistorical debates about religion on, for example, CiF).

Anyhow, Fulton intricately goes on to suggest how this wider context of Saxon conversion and the translation of ideas in the context of education related, in particular, to this Eucharistic debate.

The Eucharist is, in part, about signification, about the power of words. But, in particular, it is about the power of the spoken word. Now, in a Saxon context, it appears that the efficacy, the potency of words was construed in a rather different way from what Paschasius might have rather taken for granted before facing up to the tasks of instruction. In the Saxon imagination, the written word was particularly associated with runes, with runic inscriptions. In one context – votive offerings etc – runes were seen to have a certain power: the inscription, the “physcial presence on a material object…acted as an emphatic medium between the rune-master and the gods.” (As Fulton suggests, this rather counters the assumption that protoliterate cultures value the spoken or performed word most). Indeed, one challenge for Paschasius was to show how this performative power could be exercised not by material inscription but in speech. (Thus, for instance, he asks rhetorically in his work, “What else are the figures of letters than their characters that through them the force and power and utterance of spirit are demonstrated to the eyes?”). This is but one example of how his work was particularly written with the difficulties that a Saxon might have over sacramentality and ‘figures’ in scripture. That is: his work shows a sensitivity to the context of conversion.

I have deliberately avoided going into the details of the debate, not least because my grasp of its intricacy is still tenuous (and, given this, I doubt that my presentation would be enthralling reading). But, rather, I hope it suggests something of the complexity of religious conversion during the early medieval period. This is not to gloss over coercion etc, but the interaction of monoliths gives a misleadingly smooth shape to the picture. What is interesting, I hope, in this example is that even a debate on something as intricate as the Eucharist in the 840s could reflect, in a complex way, the ramifications and repercussions of ongoing conversion starting a couple of generations earlier.

ChooChoo:

Very enlightening – thanks.

I have no knowledge of the particulars on which you expound but I would like to pick up on a couple of your points to make some general observations.

The complexity around the ‘Forced’ conversion of the Saxons follows a pattern that has been repeated many times throughout human development. It concerns the spread of ideologies, whether political or religious.

Firstly, there needs to be a powerful enough ideology around which cultures can coalesce; secondly, when this has happened there will follow an evangelical phase, comprising a communication process and then a system of education. The ideology will be now have become even more powerful, requiring a governing framework and hierarchy to prevent fragmentation and internecine strife.

The governing bureaucrats now have a vested self-interest in perpetuating the ideology and eradicating all competition. If this cannot be achieved through persuasion it will happen by other means, firstly using social and economic pressure and, ultimately by force.

Political ideologies can survive some degree of diversity because they claim only to be better than the competition and not (usually) encapsulating the truth. Hence the open society. Religions, however, at least in the West, make that claim of perfection and, therefore, cannot allow any competing doctrine to survive without undermining its own existence.

In the van will be those who have absolute certainty in the rectitude of their beliefs. Most of the rest of the population will be carried along, either by sheer force of argument or by self-interest (hope of reward or fear of backing the wrong side). The sceptics will largely keep quiet, leaving only those few at the margins to protest, who will then become either demonised or martyred depending on how subsequent history pans out.

If this sounds glib it is not meant to – the picture is highly complex, localised and iterative. But the overall thrust of the process is one of a move from informing, through education and persuasion to coercion. The whole edifice then becomes too large and unwieldy to maintain strict orthodoxy and schism will follow. Ideological empires decay and fragment also.

Ideologies rise and decline more rapidly in today’s world simply because of the huge exponential growth and rapidity of our communications systems. It is difficult to prevent access to competing ideas for very long. An example is Marxism, which rose and became moribund all within about 70 years despite its global reach.

Prevailing orthodoxies today include the belief that science alone can answer metaphysical questions; that climate change is being driven predominantly by mankind’s efforts; religious fundamentalism; and the conviction that democracy can solve every country’s political problems. Some will survive longer than others but most will eventually die and be replaced.

The underlying truths, if ever there were any, cease to play any meaningful role once the ideology has become established. Marx famously said that he would not have been a Marxist. And, of course, his thesis was deeply flawed in the first place based as it was on historicism.

The second point I wanted to pick up on was the importance of words in a largely pre-literate society. I was not aware of this specific example but it is not surprising. Rarity and specialist knowledge confers privilege on the possessors and inspires awe and fear in the ignorant. Priests and political leaders have always had a vested interest in keeping the masses in the dark.

There was much resistance and blood letting, for example, over the creation of demotic translations of the Bible. The Mullahs of today (as the authorities on the words of the Qu’ran) are the real power in many Muslim countries. And how our political leaders loathe the media. Companies vaunt the free market whilst trying their utmost to use privileged information to create a monopolies for themselves.

It is possible to play this trick oneself. I was once pitched into a job about which I had no real knowledge. Neither did my boss but because it was a new venture for the industry none of our audience had much idea either. We made sure that we kept a page or two ahead in the manual and got away with it. We were considered experts in this black art and thought of as being very learned and clever. The one legged man was king!

Boltonian – Apologies for going into some minutiae above.

Your thoughts on ideological edifices, forced conversion and education are v interesting. If I can stick, roughly, with early medieval stuff in mind – though I don’t mean to be a scoundrel and argue from what I’m more familiar with – I’d note a few points.

The unity of an ideological edifice is not always as clear as even its proponents might wish to make out. (I am reading up at the moment on the mid 9th century involvement of a cleric, Hincmar of Rheims, in the attempted divorce of Lothar II, who repudiated his wife, Theutberga, on charges of incest, abortion and subsequent infertility. Hincmar was defending Theuberga – all sorts of other people got involved too.) In the case of the Carolingians and the Saxons, there are some complications. First of all, the preceding time had seen an ‘age of missionaries’, famously Boniface. Whatever one thinks of missionaries, the process is not simply united with the kind of forced conversion catalysed by Charlemagne. As hinted above, missionaries were well aware of the dialectic of conversion, of the changes this prompted in those seeking to convert. Moreover, the reaction to Charlemagne’s ‘policy’ – even by those who were singing from the same ‘ideological’ hymnbook – was hardly supportive (e.g. Alcuin, who himself had insular origins – from 7th-8thc, Irish and Anglo-Saxon churchmen were profoundly influential on the continent – and around whom court culture was centred and intellectual life catalysed from the late 8th century).

Indeed, looking at the history of this region at a more panoramic level, the process of education, of slow acculturation, in many ways preceded the kind of programme undertaken by Carolingian rulers and clergy from the late 8th century. Long before Charlemagne, there were people like Martin of Tours, Caesarius of Arles etc. We must not underestimate the importance of monasticism either, esp the influence of John Cassian and Benedict, on wider society.

Likewise, I am inclined to agree with what you say on orthodoxy, though, again, things are messy. The afore-mentioned debate on the Eucharist did not end in an unseemly way (while a contemporary one on predestination did to some extent). But even orthodoxy is more complicated: Rabanus Maurus, a leading scholar of his day, undertook, among other things, compendious exegesis of the Pentateuch, which drew heavily on – among other figures – Origen, whose position in terms of orthodoxy had always been liminal: no one complained. The phenomenon of John Scotus Eriugena is another complex example. I have no doubt that contemporaries then would not have been able to stomach a wholly modern type of historicism (though their thought was far more nuanced than we often make out). But it is worth bearing in mind the possibilities for thought in this regard, even when self-consciously seeking orthodoxy (or orthopraxis): Newman’s Development of Doctrine is one example, interesting both conceptually and considered as a historical model.

In sum, your ‘model’ (perhaps that’s too strong) is far fuller and more robust than anything I could come up with, though I’m not sure I go along with it completely. Incidentally – not a nice question – what exactly do you mean by ideology?

On literacy – absolutely. The possibilities for the written word even in proto or semiliterate cultures are myriad. I think that one thing you are touching on is the connection between literacy and power (though I would be wary of making literacy simply instrumental to power). I can think of some examples that bear out what you write (a common line, I guess): “Priests and political leaders have always had a vested interest in keeping the masses in the dark.”

But I am wary of this as a purportedly universal historical reality. Part of the representation of priestly ministry – as serving or ministering to a people – is worth bearing in mind. Moreover – to go back to the period above – priests were not a ‘uniform’ category any more than ‘the masses’ were. There was a huge difference between an educated cleric (say, Hincmar of Rheims) and a more rural, parochial priest. (Incidentally, Paschasius Radbertus is quite interesting insofar as, though abbot, he was not a priest, but merely a deacon: he did not become ordained out of humility). At this period, priests and monks and nuns were vital members of society in terms of organising what we now call ‘non-religious’ things. (Paschasius the foundling had been brought up at an abbey). In terms of the written word: obviously, scriptoria tended to be centred around abbeys and cathedrals: literacy – esp writing – was heavily clericalised. But how much – or how simply – this related to power I’m not so sure. In more rural settings – the vast majority – there wasn’t time to read. If I may jump back in time a bit, Caesarius of Arles’ sermons show up one particular problem he faced in his congregation: they sometimes couldn’t rest on Sundays because they needed to work. The picture sometimes implied of societies bursting out and clamouring after education while baddy priests deny it to them (until, praise be to God, modern technology, the Enlightenment etc) is not one I find wholly compelling if I’m meant to take it seriously in all times and places. (Incidentally, the relation between elite power and types of literacy is not one which has vanished today).

One final thought: I am often struck not only by the attempted hegemony I sometimes discern, but also the fragility of all of this. One model is the imposition of a system – Christianity – from the top down. There are vital elements of truth to this. But the process seems to me to be far more symbiotic. The developing penitential system, for example, is not unrelated to contemporary notions of law. Often, this sort of thing – ‘imposing’ certain kinds of discipline on the people – is seen as hegemonic. But matters are more complex. In one 9th century penitential, the author refers to infanticide and prescribes a penance (a hefty one – 10 years). So far, so hegemonic. He then notes that this practice enrages ‘the people’, who call it ‘murth’ (a piece of Germanic in a Latin text). It emerges, then, that his take on infanticide – hardly concessive – is far lighter than that of his contemporaries, some of whom clamoured after exacting retributive death in such instances. The penitential author appears to be negotiating this difficult context with the demands of writing and disseminating penitential practice. I am inclined to think that ‘negotiation’ might be an important aspect to understanding processes of Christianisation and perhaps, too, for more general notions of the spread of ideologies.

ChooChoo:

To get your ‘Nasty’ question out of the way first. My dictionary defines ‘Ideology’ as, ‘A set of beliefs held by a particular social group,’ and that will do for me as a working definition.

Please don’t take my huge (over) simplification as anything other than a general summary. There is a tendency for all (successful) ideologies to follow this pattern. That is not to say that individuals will not conform or that there are exceptions and disagreements over exactly what constitutes official doctrine. But there is an averaging out or compromise position that becomes accepted and anything outside this orthodoxy is viewed with suspicion at best and is often actively suppressed.

I do not run away from the complexities inherent in any dynamic system such as the need, from time to time, to disclose information. Knowledge, though, is power and those who have it tend to want to hang on to it and, wherever possible, increase their share. Of course, I am sure all involved could justify their actions as the best way to bring about stability and order. I am not moralising here, merely pointing out some common threads.

Another point about hegemony, unless there is some discernible advantage to the audience those assuming power will not long be able to hold on to it. So, I am not saying that the masses derived no benefit, they clearly did, at least until the corruption endemic in any monopoly led to rival ideologies to enter the field in the guise of the Reformation.

Understanding exactly what will succeed is a key component of leadership and there is ever a dichotomy between the purists, who take the long view, and the populists who look for short term approbation. Therefore negotiation is fundamental to success – simply forcing an alien dogma on an unwilling populace will not work.

I hope that I have not implied that either priests or the masses were a homogeneous group of automatons all obeying to the letter some preordained (if you forgive me) set of behaviours. What I am describing is the historical development cycle of all human institutions. Successful religions tend to outlast political ideologies for the reasons I gave earlier.

Popper, though, firmly believed that the Open Society was inherently stronger than more authoritarian regimes and would always triumph in a clash of political ideologies. So far, he has been proved right but it is early days and I, for one, hope that he continues to be vindicated. Again, this is not to say that liberal, capitalist democracies will win every contest they engage in but that overall they will tend to outlast and, eventually, defeat more oppressive systems.

ChooChoo

Many thanks (and apologies for not having responded more promptly).

I find the whole question of the transmission of Christianity to pre-literate peoples whose understanding of the world and of the role of religion must have been very different fascinating. Up to now my knowledge of discussions among the missionaries was confined largely to the correspondence between Gregory the Great and Augustine, as quoted by Bede, which emphasises persuasion rather than coercion, flexibility in choosing what seemed most appropriate from among the various customs and liturgies then in use in different branches of the church, and the deliberate adaptation of what was familiar – e.g. the consecration of pagan temples to Christian use, and the adoption of formerly pagan festivals and gatherings associated with those places for the celebration of saints’ days and the like. The example of the conversion of the English alone shows how gradual and complex the whole business was, and how fraught with set-backs. And that was in a country where the evidence suggests some survival of Roman Christianity, even in areas where Saxon settlement was densest and acculturation of the native British population most extensive. At this stage, of course, there was no question of anything ressembling a monolithic organisation.

The ‘top down’ argument is valid insofar as the conversion of kings and chieftains was clearly of prime importance in the whole process but, as you say, this is far from being the whole story. What is also interesting is the interaction between Christianity and the monastic and clerical ideal on the one hand and the ethos of barbarian society with its warrior elite on the other. To what extent did each modify the other?

If you’re interested in Karen Armstrong, you might want to look at her latest interview on Pakistan, Islam and secularism in the Reuters religion blog FaithWorld.

Thanks for that, Tom.

The article can be found by following this link:

http://blogs.reuters.com/faithworld/2008/02/04/qa-karen-armstrong-on-pakistan-islam-and-secularisation/

Hi Tom. Welcome.

Interesting.

Did she really mean that military solutions are never right? Most of the interview is not much more than motherhood and apple pie, although sound bites are inevitable in such a short space and with that format.

She is right in one thing, though, and that is her point about religion being a pretext or even an irrelevance in most struggles. It is mainly about getting and retaining power and in this symbolism is vital to success. It spreads ownership of the conflict wider than the original perpetrators and lends it a legitimacy that it might otherwise lack.

E (and others):

Yesterday we touched on the idea that biblical literalism, at least as we see it today, is a post-enlightenment phenomenon and this is very much the position of Armstrong (I have only just started reading the book). I have also taken delivery today of a slim volume charting the history, values and main theses of the Jesus Seminar.

Just flicking through one or two of the essays, I came upon the assertion that serious attempts by scholars to unearth the real Jesus began with the enlightenment. Assuming that Armstrong’s position is correct for the moment, do you think that the two might be linked? In other words the rise of literalism was a reaction to the more scientific approach adopted by some biblical scholars. Thus scholarship began to be seen as a threat to the Christian belief system and a return to a more strict (and coercive) regime was a protective measure developed by some denominations.

boltonian
Yes, that, I think is the essence of Armstrong’s argument (if I have understood it correctly). The kind of bibllical literalism which characterises modern Christian fundamentalism arose as a response to the challenge to some people’s beliefs posed by the findings of biblical scholars from the 19th century onwards. As I noted in an earlier comment, she sees this response as being, in itself, the product of a post-enlightenment world in which it is no longer easy to see meaning in myth and symbolism.

In ‘The Battle for God’. which examines fundamentalism in a wider context, she argues further that fundamentalism in all its varied manifestations, is the extreme reaction of people who feel that their beliefs and values are threatened by modern secularism and Western scientific rationalism. They may reject this scientific rationalism, but in their attempts to define, or redefine and assert their religious identity, they cannot escape its influence.

E:

Many thanks.

Now, here’s a thing that might be of interest. Christadelphians is a literalist sect that believes the Bible is the unsullied word of God and that the only inconsistencies therein are translation errors. Their website uses science to try to justify this but in a weird perversion of the scientific process.

One of its methods is to ‘Prove’ the accuracy of various biblical prophecies by selective forecasts with certain (subsequent) events. Of course both the prophecy and the event occurred in the distant past, so we cannot be sure that the one is a forerunner of the other. Not only that but the event is often so vaguely linked with the prophecy (a la Nostradamus) that almost any prediction of impending doom would fit the bill.

See more here: http://www.christadelphian.org.uk/

The reason I cite this particular sect is that I know someone who is a staunch and committed member. He is otherwise a rational, sane, intelligent and decent human being, so why does he buy into this tripe?

I have now read Armstrong’s biblical biography. It is a very easy read covering a huge amount of ground. For anybody wanting a general summary of how the Bible came to be and to exert such an influence on western society this is the book.

I also agree that literalists will find it uncomfortable. She most certainly leans approvingly towards the idea that the Bible should be used as a source of inspiration, rather than a doctrine to be proved or disproved, as she claims was mostly the case throughout its history. I suspect she is being selective with the evidence to support her own preferences here – well, aren’t all historians guilty of this? For this reason and the, necessarily, superficial nature of the book one should read other authors on the subject but this is most definitely a good place to start.

E’s article captures the essence of the book exactly.

I have only a couple of minor gripes: sometimes Armstrong can be guilty of seeing sharp dividing lines in history, which probably don’t exist in reality – this is also a fault in, ‘The Great Transformation.’ I imagine she does this to emphasise her thesis and probably does no real harm. The second faint objection I have is the Epilogue, which comprises a series of naive and hectoring statements based very much on motherhood sentiments about how we should treat each other in today’s world. It is superfluous and does not fit with the rest of the book.