Courtly Love: the Medieval Origins of Romance

 By Olivia Glunz

Romantic love features prominently in just about every recent novel, movie, and song. Our zest for love stories, however, is by no means a timeless phenomenon. In fact, as C.S. Lewis explains in his 1936 work The Allegory of Love, idealistic depictions of romantic passion first appear in literature and the arts in 11th-century France; romance, as we know it today, has its roots in the Middle Ages.

Romantic love was by no means absent from literature before the 11th century. However, erotic passion was rarely a work’s central topic. For instance, the Iliad and the Odyssey, two of the most important cultural productions of Archaic Greece, both feature love and marriage; nonetheless, the primary focus of these epics is war, travel, and adventure, not eros. Moreover, the romantic episodes in the Iliad and the Odyssey hardly resemble the dramatic, passionate love scenes to which modern readers are accustomed. Instead, in Odysseus’ relationship with Penelope or Hector’s with Andromache, wives are depicted more as trusted companions and symbols of domestic stability than objects of intense affection and desire. (Lewis 4) Several ancient works do focus primarily on romantic love, but in almost none of these instances is desire positively portrayed. For Dido and Medea, erotic passion is a deadly form of madness; for the Socrates of Plato’s Symposium, love of a beautiful body is merely a passing step on the way to love of Beauty itself; for Ovid, the slavishly devoted lover deserves not respect but irreverent mockery (Lewis 3-5). Before the Middle Ages, passionate romantic love was either largely absent from stories or cause for distrust and mockery.

In the 1000s in Provencal, however, a dramatic shift occurred. In the works of Chretien de Troyes, Languedoc, and other troubadours (medieval lyric poet-musicians), romantic passion not only was a central focus but was idealistically portrayed as a heavenly pursuit. This new romantic tradition of so-called “Courtly Love” was marked by four important characteristics: “Humility, Courtesy, Adultery, and the Religion of Love” (Lewis 2). In courtly romance, the lover is always humble; he considers himself weak and worthless in comparison to his lady, whose every wish is his command. Second, the lover is both literally and figuratively “courteous”; his deferential, service-based relationship with his lady resembles the vassal’s courtly obligation to his lord. Third, the lover and his lady are typically involved in a secret, adulterous affair. Finally, the lover worships “Love” itself—which alone can help him win over his beloved—with desperate, dramatic religiosity.

The “Courtly Love” genre certainly marks a significant break from earlier approaches to romance; scholars, however, are unsure exactly why this change occurred when and how it did. Nonetheless, considering the genre’s four characteristics provides some insights. The values of humility and courtesy, for instance, suggest that feudalism played a contributing role: the vassal’s deep affection for his lord provided a natural model for intense romantic relationships (Lewis 12); moreover, in feudal courts, women were often exalted as exemplars of etiquette who demanded courteous behavior in return (Lewis 13). Adultery and the religion of Love, meanwhile, point to dissatisfaction with typical secular and religious attitudes toward marriage. In feudal society, marriages were often transactional and loveless; adultery, then, naturally suggested itself as an occasion for passion and genuine love (Lewis 13). The Medieval Church, meanwhile, took a relatively pessimistic view toward sex. Medieval thinkers such as Gregory and Hugo of St. Victor argued that sexual desire was either inherently sinful, an unfortunate result of the Fall, or at very least easily corrupted (Lewis 14-16). The Church’s reluctant attitude toward sex did not lend itself particularly well to passionate romance; Medieval troubadours and writers responded by embracing adultery—explicitly prohibited by the Church—and the Religion of Love—an “alternative” to Christianity.

The four characteristics of Courtly Love are well illustrated by Marie de France’s 13th-century tale “Lanval.” The courageous knight Lanval, listless after King Arthur neglects to reward him, is rescued from his misery by a beautiful woman who lavishes him with gifts and begins an affair with him; she only stipulates that Lanval keep their relationship secret. Lanval unintentionally reveals the affair, however, when Queen Guenevere propositions him; he not only loses his beloved but, through Guenevere’s conniving, is tried for insulting the queen. Lanval’s merciful beloved intervenes, however; the knight is exonerated and spends the rest of his days with his lady. Lanval embodies humility and courtesy—servile and subordinate, he honors and depends on his beloved like a feudal lord. His affair, though not explicitly adulterous, is clandestine and takes place outside of marriage. Finally, Lanval approaches his beloved and Love itself with the reverence of a religious devotee. 

The Courtly Love genre, illustrated by Lanval’s tale, ultimately laid the foundation for our own cultural attitudes toward romance. The typical plot and setting of a modern love story may look very different from Lanval’s rather sappy feudal affair. Nonetheless, our swooning sentimentality and deep fascination toward romantic love—evident in works as diverse as Titanic, Casablanca, Oppenheimer, and Star Wars—are a direct inheritance of Courtly Love’s idealization and worship of romance.

Further Reading:

Lewis, C.S. The Allegory of Love: a Study in Medieval Tradition. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1936. Print.

Marie de France. “Lanval.” In The Lays of Marie de France, translated Edward J. Gallagher.

Love According to Medieval Women

By McKenna McKrell

True love in the medieval world was not found in the faith-abiding companionship of marriage, but in secret, adulterous, and rule-breaking lust. 

Heloise d’Argenteuil tells us so herself in a 12th century letter where between the paragraphs detailing her unending concern and passionate love for her tutor-turned-lover Peter Abelard, she declares she would rather be called his whore than his wife. 

For a modern audience, the claim begs a moment of consideration. 

The cultural monolith of the medieval world, and thus our expectations for interpersonal realities, is marked by the immense role of religion. These religions — notably Christianity in the West — continue to be widely practiced today and place heavy value on the love that manifests in monogamous marriage. In a medieval culture where Christian values are taught to have been so prevalent, it is quite surprising that the picture of love to a young French woman like Heloise is not marriage, but adultery — the very thing that subverts it. 

Medieval marriage was not always characterized by monogamous love between two individuals, but rather the specific responsibilities the pair took on in relation to each other. Though religion played a role in marriages, they were not entirely defined by it (Manning). The Sacrament of Marriage, for example, was not formally established by the Catholic church until the 16th century, allowing for broader societal expectations to shape gendered roles for medieval husbands and wives (Thomas). 

Furthermore, marriages were not dependent on love between individuals, simply mutual consent. As Pope Nicholas I explains in a letter to the Bulgars from the ninth century, “if this consent alone is perchance lacking in the wedding, all the rest, even if it is consummated with intercourse itself, is in vain ” (North) He later parrots another teacher, John Chrysostom: “not intercourse but will makes marriage” (North). Pope Nicholas deemphasizes the relationship between physical intimacy and marriage, clearly presenting the possibility for one to be present without the other. 

The relationship between Abelard and Heloise — a scholar and the “most learned young woman in France” (Levitan xi), respectively — was highly controversial and reflects the tension between a passionate relationship and a marriage. After having a secret affair, Heloise becomes pregnant, the two are secretly married, and later Abelard is castrated and both enter religious orders (Levitan). The foundation of their intimacy is secret passion and physical love, and in letters sent between them during their monastic years, Heloise reflects on the nature of their relationship.

Heloise writes to Abelard: “The name of wife may have advantages of sanctity and safety, but to me the sweeter name will always be lover or, if your dignity can bear it, concubine or whore” (Levitan 55). For Heloise, being called Abelard’s wife does not reflect her passionate and lustful feelings for him, but rather that she is the woman who bore his child and cares for his household — her gendered role as a medieval “wife.” The title plays a practical role: publicly recognizing or sanctifying their relationship and solidifying his duty to provide for her. But, “marriage” did not accurately capture what Heloise cared most about: the true and utter nature of her love for him.  

One 14th century tale from The Decameron, a collection of fictional stories, supports this distinction between marriage and passionate love in the medieval world. The story centers on a woman named Madonna Filippa, who challenges an adultery charge in court. Filippa, who is described as “truly in love” (Rebhorn 495), defends her affair with a man named Lazzarino de’Guazzagliotri, claiming that her husband is always satisfied and her duties as a wife are fulfilled, so she sees no reason to end the adulterous relationship or be punished for it. The court agrees: Filippa is not punished, remains married, and continues the affair. 

Though the latter example is satirical, both episodes reveal the importance of a medieval intimacy that subverts our expectations, yet at its core is quite intuitive: someone to emotionally and physically love. Not just a spouse, but a lover. 

Themes of love that are adulterous, break rules, or must be kept secret are pervasive in Arthurian and other Court Romances of the Western medieval world. These themes solidify that love — outside of the context of marriage — was either a fixture in this later medieval period, or that there was at least a cultural fascination with the idea. 

Female perspectives like Heloise and characters like Filippa offer unique depictions of women as agents in their own love stories: not just consenting of a marriage, but desirous of a physical and emotional relationship. Even if these real and fictional women may be deemed outliers, their love stories allow us to more broadly recognize the bounds of marriage, and the surprising value of unsanctioned intimacies. 

For Further Reading

Abelard & Heloise: The Letters and Other Writings. Translated by William Levitan. Hackett Publishing Company, 2007. 

Giovanni Bocaccaio’s The Decameron, “Day 6, Story 7.” Translated by Wayne A. Rebhorn. W.W. Norton & Company, 2013. 

What is the History of Marriage? Kathleen Manning. U.S. Catholic, 2012. <https://uscatholic.org/articles/201210/what-is-the-history-of-marriage/>

Christian Marriage: The New Challenge, David M. Thomas. Liturgical Press, Collegeville, MN. 2007. Relevant excerpt, <https://www.baylor.edu/content/services/document.php/145520.pdf>

“The Response of Pope Nicholas I to the Questions of the Bulgars.” Translated by W.L. North. From the edition of Ernest Perels in MGH Epistolae VI. Berlin. 1925. 

Image source: Charles Durupt, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Money and the Law in Medieval Relationships

 By Giselle Acosta 

Relationships are complicated in any era. In the Mediterranean region of late medieval Europe, they took on a uniquely legal nuance. The rights of women in domestic situations varied widely depending on the woman’s and the relationship’s legal status. Nevertheless, it seems to have been a universal truth that women’s well-being depended on the favor of the men in their lives.

Within the medieval hierarchy, married women undoubtedly had it best. Their legally recognized relationship somewhat balanced power between the two parties. This relative equality is evident in the statement of Alayseta Paul. Paul wrote that after her father became terminally ill with the plague, he wrote a will that named his wife as his “universal heir” and divided his fortune between his two daughters, including Alayseta, in the event his wife died. 

This testimony suggests intimate relationships between men and women who were legally bound by birth or marriage. They were equal enough that at least some men would recognize female family members as full and worthy heirs. Alayseta’s father designating her mother, her sister, and herself instead of male relatives as heirs implies he respected them as near equals.

Even so, recognition like that was only received after the death of the male head of the household. During a man’s lifetime, every object used by the women in his household legally belonged to him. For example, one posthumous inventory stated that the deceased had owned a corset worn by his widow, Laurencia. Laurencia’s husband never wore a women’s garment, but in the eyes of medieval law it had legally been his. 

Situations like this tell modern viewers that women in traditional family arrangements had power and financial independence, but only after the death of the nearest man. While their father, husband, etc. was still alive, women legally had nothing of their own.

Although married women and daughters of married couples were ensured financial independence after a man’s death, unmarried women in intimate relationships were ensured nothing at all. Many women lived under that threat, since concubines were fairly common in late medieval Europe. 

One contract from 1390 details the existence of a concubine named Alasacia Raymbaude, who received a donation from her lover, Anthonius Auctor. The official purpose of the document was to thank Raymbaude for the “many services and benefits” she regularly provided, which probably included a child. However, Auctor reserved the right to take back his donation at any time if she didn’t “do good” (bonum aget).

This phrasing reflects the instability many medieval women in unofficial intimate relationships faced. Though they were often accorded possessions on a case-by-case basis, they had no legal protections like married women. They had no claim to their paramours’ estates after their deaths, which meant they had to constantly submit to their male lovers. If they did not, their lovers could write them out of the will and plunge the women and whatever children they had into poverty. 

Unsurprisingly, the women with the least rights in medieval intimate relationships were slaves. Chattel slavery was common in the late medieval Mediterranean. Most slaves were women who were captured in Eastern Europe and forced to perform domestic and sexual labor. Their status was perfectly legal and religiously acceptable at the time, as the pope decreed that pagans could be enslaved and forcibly converted without sin.

One record of a slave named Anna provides insight into the value placed on female slaves. In the inventory, Anna is listed alongside real estate instead of domestic objects. This suggests that her monetary value was deemed greater than everyday objects and more comparable to vast parcels of land.

Two lessons can be learned from this information. For one thing, female slaves typically performed the same labor – domestic and sexual – as free wives and concubines. For another, their labor was believed to have significant value, as Anna’s placement in the inventory implies.

However, that value did not override the subhuman status they possessed or the inhuman treatment they received. Slavery automatically created an imbalanced power dynamic where the male owner had complete control over the female slave. As a result, female slaves completely lacked the interpersonal power and monetary returns married women and even concubines enjoyed. 

According to most Americans’ understanding of the Middle Ages, all women back then had no rights and were completely subjugated by the men in their lives. Though that is partially true, the reality was more complicated. Women’s domestic rights varied dramatically depending on their legal status. The wife and slave of a wealthy aristocrat led very different lives, after all. Nevertheless, in every situation women lacked legal recognition as independent entities for decades at a time, if not their whole lives. Perhaps instead of perseverating on that bleakness, we should celebrate the accomplished women who made the most of it. 

Sources:

https://dalme.org/features/alayseta-paule/

https://dalme.org/features/anna/

https://dalme.org/features/fur-corset/

https://dalme.org/features/gifts-to-a-concubine/

Image Source:

https://dalme.org/features/counter-chests/

Loving Letters – Familiar and Familial

 By Adler Schultz

Utensils commonly used by medieval writers after the large-scale phasing out of reed pens

Whether it's a warm greeting over the phone from a grandparent or a flirtatious text between spouses, humans have relentlessly developed means to transmute our feelings into words that can be sent across an unfathomably long distance in a matter of seconds. Perhaps due to the effortlessness of our modern communication, it feels as though the care for detail and appreciation for deep emotion has left the world of intimate correspondence – especially when compared to the distant past of the medieval world.

Scribing instruments were valuable, writing was a more exclusive skill, and correspondence times were incredibly lengthy – the perfect environment for ‘qualified’ people to dominate the space of intimate writing, using their elevated academic skills to produce many of the wondrous works that have become staples in both literary-artistic and social history.

While we can learn a lot from the other writings of ‘qualified’ academics, such as on the deeds of kings, or the stories they inspire, there is something charming and chaste about these types of writings meant to be under a higher level of privacy. To a greater extent, they lay bare the true feelings of the involved individuals, allowing them to ignore the social stigmas and speak more openly with their intimate pair. 

Thankfully, many manuscripts of these private correspondences were immortalized in their print and circulated throughout academic communities to glean into the social customs, history, and interpersonal relationships of the past. To set a tasteful introduction, two prominent representatives exemplify the appeal and academic relevancy of this medium – those being: the Letters of Abelard and Héloïse and the Liber Manualis.

Among the most famous of medieval correspondences are the Letters of Abelard and Héloïse, written in 12th-century France. Exchanged between Peter Abelard – a philosopher and theologian, who at the time was a cloistered monk – and Héloïse d’Argenteuil – a French nun, and eventual prelate nullius of the Catholic Church, these letters explore the relationship itself held between the two as well as the complex context surrounding it.

With the ability to ‘peek behind closed doors’ and read their personal conversations, we are able to read their philosophies and the application of those philosophies in a more intimate setting. Through the many steps of their communication, we learn more than just their fairly well-circulated philosophical work, but also general gender roles in their time and place and individual accounts of cloistered life through the discussions of their personal lives as a monk and abbess.

Through the story of Abelard’s castration at the hands of Héloïse’s uncle and the suffering in social status and availability of future occupation for the victim, a piece of the medieval understanding of masculinity and the value of men is brought into light at a personal level. While philosophers or greater society can provide written doctrines and standards, without personal accounts of the effects of these rules and social norms it is hard to get a proper understanding of what they truly entail. Through their conversations, we can pick up on small details that help us build upon our understanding of the medieval world in a way that would otherwise be most likely lost to history.

On the side of Héloïse, we learn so much about the hidden characteristics of individuals through the blatant honesty that intimate pairs may have. She says to Abelard –“Men judge me praiseworthy, but I am guilty before God; from His all-seeing eye nothing is hidden, and He views through all their windings the secrets of the heart.”– without fear of having her outward image blown, since it is stated in a state of secrecy. However, since we have access to these records of honesty, it provides a capacity for the shaping of history to be based not only on outward appearances but the content of a person's character when the mind is laid bare.

Continuing with educated, contemporary women in writing, Dhuoda provides an excellent testimony of her own maternal love through the Liber Manualis.

The Liber Manualis was written between 841 and 843 AD in Septimania (modernly, southern France) in apparent response to her son, William, being taken to the court of Charles the Bald as a hostage. This political hostage-taking was supposedly done in order to secure his father’s, Bernard of Septimania, allegiance to the ongoing power struggle between the sons of Louis the Pious.

Given the purpose of his presence in the court, if William was to make missteps or his father were to betray the trust of Charles the Bald, his life would be at the mercy of his detainer. Acting as a lifeline, Dhuoda meticulously crafts a sort of survival guide for her son, often described as a mirror1 by relevant academics, in order to guide him in the mortal body and immortal soul.

Through her letter, we are able to glean the writing prowess that could be held by an educated woman of her time. While she was likely an exception rather than the standard, it works to deconstruct biased and superficial views on the abilities of women in pre-modern history, even those in the 9th century. Her clever usage of acrostic poem format to aid her son in memorization of key points that are relevant to his survival and success in court as well as her frequent usage of non-literal writing, such as through biblical imagery is a testament to the loving effort she puts forth into her son. Moreover, despite these advanced writing techniques, she stays humble before God as a central point of her style of authorship. These customs help us to understand her as an individual as well as illuminate the contributions of her husband and son at a critical junction in European history.

“My son, my firstborn son – you will have other teachers to present you with works of fuller and richer usefulness, but not anyone like me, your mother, whose heart burns on your behalf.”. Despite her clarity of writing, broad range of academic and emotional topics, and firm stature in ethos as both a well-educated woman and William’s mother, Dhuoda’s humility bursts forth almost incessantly, priding herself only on her love for her son.

Through this attribute, all manners of conjectures can be drawn on her character as well as passive teaching on courtly manners. Though it may not be obvious when reading at the surface level, the beauty of these manuscripts is that they carry the desires of the person writing as an individual more than just an academic source with a set writing style format or rigid expected diction. Because of this, a more in-depth exploration of even this small detail can lead the way to personal theories that can be compared and contrasted with other available information to complete a puzzle, adding color to figures of the distant past.

For instance, one could speculate that Dhuoda is writing in a way that is meant to normalize the format of humility that she later explores in her work in William’s mind, helping him adjust to reading – and thereby using – humble speech that would be beneficial to his survival in court. Though entirely unconfirmable, it would inform the modern reader more about Dhuoda’s intellect, adding another strategy used even in the modern day to her already impressive repertoire.

The beauty of these letters is that unexpected academic approaches can be taken using them as a basis. For instance, given Dhuoda’s extensive level and range of education, we can gain a basic understanding of the types of subjects an educated woman of her time and place would experience through the knowledge that she displays. By doing this with other comparable writers, we can better understand the structure and importance of (upper-class) women’s education which is hardly a central theme of the letter.

The ability to draw lines where there were once empty spaces in knowledge, both intimate and large-scale is a testament to the importance of these types of writings. They are filled with information, partially due to the long time frame of correspondence and the value of materials and transport, and may occasionally lay bare the personal thoughts of the writer, even those perhaps not fit to lay bare to the greater public.

When all is said and done, letters are a wonderful preservation of the past. Unfortunately, by no means should individual philosophies be made to define the large-scale mindset of society at that time when dealing with these intimate letters.

For instance, Héloïse held low personal regard for the institution of marriage and considered it to be less enticing to be a wife than a concubine or mistress, but that does not speak for the general population of France. Dhuoda held an impressive education and array of instructional techniques, but this same standard cannot be applied to every woman of a higher station in the medieval world. Instead, these letters can be better understood as puzzle pieces, helping to build a more complete picture of the diverse views held by pockets of the population or understand the individual author of the piece in question.

1 As in Specula Principum/Mirrors for Princes

Sources:

Scribe Instruments: Stanford & Corpus Christi

Information for Liber Manualis location and dates (of writing): University of Surrey

Rosaries: East and West

 By: Christine Corcoran 

A rosary and a komvoschinion 

Whether swinging from a rearview mirror or balled in a penitential fist, the rosary is one of the most quintessential forms of Catholic iconography. This humble beaded cord harkens images of musty stained glass windows, stinging incense, and pipe organs.  

The rosary is one of the only items that has remained exclusively Catholic throughout the millennia. 

Right?

Rosaries attained widespread popularity in the high Medieval period, but the Catholic Church was not alone in its use of a looped prayer cord. As the rosary took off in Medieval Italy, France, and Britain, its Orthodox counterpart had already spread in Greece and Turkey. 

To truly understand the history of this beautiful prayer device, we must examine its history and usage in the early Catholic and Orthodox traditions.

Rosaries followed a long tradition of domestic prayer in Medieval Western Europe. They actually superseded the previously dominant form of at-home prayer, an artisanally crafted prayer book called a Horae, or Book of Hours. Initially, the Horae’s short hourly liturgies primarily attracted thirteenth-century elite women who aimed to emulate the devotion of monks. 

But why would wealthy women want to worship constantly like monks?

Since upper class women were strictly bound by expectations of appropriate behavior, very few activities were considered suitable for these women to do. The first obligation was to birth and raise a family. They might also contribute to the household by spinning or weaving – though in wealthy homes these tasks were usually done by domestic servants. 

But women were also allowed and even encouraged to pray – so, many did. Religious devotion offered women an opportunity for intellectual stimulation during a time when their education was not popularly supported. 

Christianity was so ubiquitous that even women without familial or domestic duties were still welcome to practice religious devotion, so worship within the home became incredibly accessible and popular. The practice of religion within the home was so common that many manors would have a chaplain or priest who would live on-site in order to pray with the family and help the Lady of the house with the liturgy of the Horae.

As with many trends, the tastes of the wealthy trickled down to the commoners, and by the early sixteenth century, the Horae was everywhere. As the exclusivity of the Horae was waning in the fifteenth century, rosaries took their place. 

Like the Horae, the rosary is used to pray outside of a traditional church service. The Horae, however, contained different prayers, psalms, and readings that were recited every hour and depended on the liturgical season, making them very difficult to memorize. The rosary, in contrast, has only a handful of prayers, corresponding to each bead on the cord, which made them much easier to remember without the aid of a book. 

The most iconic prayer associated with the rosary is the Hail Mary, and indeed many of the rosary prayers are dedicated to the Virgin Mary. This association between rosaries and the Virgin Mary alludes to the initial audience for the items: women worshiping within the home. Shorter and easier to memorize, rosaries were more accessible to the illiterate or semi-literate women of the lower classes who didn’t have the time to pray every hour. Their accessibility made rosaries an intimate item of worship in the everyday lives of women and men alike.

One century before the popularization of rosaries in Western Europe, the komvoschinion was spreading among Greek monasteries in Orthodox Byzantium – a wealthy kingdom spanning the southern Balkans and coastal Turkey. Like the rosary, a komvoschinion is a braided, knotted, or beaded cord used in prayer. Komvoschinia grew especially popular in the burgeoning fourteenth century tradition of hesychasm, especially among the monastic hub on Mount Athos in Northern mainland Greece. Hesychasm is an extreme form of religious devotion that emphasizes spiritual connection to God through the repetition of short simple prayers. The most popular of these prayers was the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me.” Like with a rosary, a komvoschinion would be used during the Jesus Prayer to keep track of the number of prayers recited. 

Hesychasm (and the usage of a komvoschinion) was practiced exclusively by monks. In fact, women were banned from Mount Athos (including its hesychast centers) during this period, and still are today. 

The difference in the gender of the audiences between rosaries and komvoschinia reflects the shared social expectations of both Eastern and Western Europe: women practiced worship within the home, and men practiced worship in ecclesiastical settings. In Western practice, the rosary was a reflection of interior devotion and spirituality. Although it still symbolized those virtues, since the komvoschinion was used in the group setting of a monastery, it had a more exterior function and significance. 

Rosaries and komvoschinia seem nearly identical in both appearance and function, however each fits into a larger and more complex culture. The Byzantines had been using icons in women-dominated domestic worship for over half a millennium by the time of the komvoschinion’s introduction in the fourteenth century, and they still serve a prominent function in Orthodox worship today. Likewise, Catholics did not develop a form of minimalist worship among its clergy in a similar fashion to hesychasm, so they did not need a rosary to keep track of their repetitious prayers. This goes to show that even within a unifying religion, there is still wide variation between culture and practice between Eastern and Western worship traditions.

 

Works Cited 

Cross, F. L. and E. A. Livingstone. “Hesychasm.” In The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, edited by F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Cross, F. L., and E. A. Livingstone. “Jesus Prayer.” In The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, edited by F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Cross, F. L, and E. A. Livingstone. “Komvoschinion.” In The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, edited by F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Cross, F. L. “Rosary.” In The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, edited by F. L. Cross and E. A. Livingstone. Oxford University Press, 2009.

Duffy, Eamon. Marking the Hours: English People and Their Prayers 1240-1570. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2006.

“100 Knots Black KOMBOSKINI Men Orthodox Prayer Rope Rosary For Son Christmas.” Ebay. Accessed on February 26, 2024. https://www.ebay.com/itm/125662166491.

Gilsdorf, Sean and Brian FitzGerald. “Christian Liturgy: A Short Introduction.” History and Literature 10AB: Introduction to the Medieval World. Class lecture at Harvard College, Cambridge, MA, February 08, 2024.

“Hypertext Book of Hours - Introduction.” Accessed February 20, 2024. https://medievalist.net/hourstxt/home.htm.

Panneton, Daniel. “How Extremist Gun Culture Is Trying to Co-Opt the Rosary.” The Atlantic (blog), August 14, 2022. https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2022/08/radical-traditionalist-catholic-christian-rosary-weapon/671122/

Medieval Mysticism

By: Joel Bentley 

        In the study of Medieval history certainty and unanimous agreement can be hard to find. One thing that any student or scholar of Medieval history would agree on, though, is that the three Abrahamic religions were crucial to the development of the Middle Ages. Judaism, Christianity, and Islamic faith not only defined how societies would be ruled over, but also how people within a community interacted with each other and how individuals interacted with themselves. Judaism, in a historical context, stands at a unique spot among the three religions. Being founded in approximately 1800 BCE makes Judaism the oldest monotheistic religion. In order to survive this long Judaism has had to develop a tight-knit community that follows universal laws of the faith. Without strict guidelines on the scripture, liturgy, and law Jewish faith would not be as much of a coherent group as it is today. It is for this reason that Mysticism - the belief that one can be in union with God through certain religious practice - in Judaism is so fascinating; it straddles the line between the strong rules of inner Jewish faith and exterior, potentially problematic, parts of the faith. In this article I will explore the history of Jewish Mysticism including Apocalypticism, Merkavah, and Kabbalah.
 

It is impossible to create a completely comprehensive explanation of the history of Jewish Mysticism in this short article, so instead we will lay out a broad-strokes roadmap of how mysticism has developed. Some of the earliest elements of mysticism came from the destruction of Solomon’s Temple in 586 BCE. Solomon’s Temple served as a bastion of early Jewish faith and is said to be where priests directly interacted with Yahweh. The later destruction of it was seen as cataclysmic to the Jews, representing the shattering of spiritual and communal foundations that had long defined Judaism. With this tragic loss Jewish faith was forced to evolve and a byproduct of this evolution was the adoption of ‘Apocalyptic’ elements within the faith. Apocalyptic is derived from the Greek word ‘apokálypsis’ meaning revelation or uncovering and, true to the name, Jewish Apocalypticism adopted a lot of these revelatory ideals. With the main teachings being of a Messiah to lead humanity to a new era of enlightenment, a Eschatological framework predicting a day of judgment, and the idea of divine unveiling of hidden teachings within the Torah, these themes show how Jews were looking for a brighter future in the shadow of the First Temples destruction. While Apocalypticism was not a denomination in its own right, we see the great influence it had on the development of mystical ideas, namely through its themes of revelation and divine unveiling. 

Following the trying times of the First Temple's destruction we enter the era of the Second Temple from 500 BCE - 70 CE. During the late Second Temple era the earliest sect of mysticism emerged: Merkavah. The word Merkavah is derived from Hebrew and means ‘chariot’ and was named this in reference to the chariot of God as seen by Ezekiel in his vision (Ezekiel 1:4-28). Merkavah took some of the ideas from early mysticism and tailored them to an individual experience, contrary to early mystical ideas, like Apocalypticism, which were focused on broader themes of the entire religion. A lot of Merkavistic practice looked for divine encounters and heavenly ascension of the individual through the study of esoteric knowledge (like interpretation of Ezekiel’s Chariot vision). These newly adopted practices signaled a turn from a communal belief in Jewish future to an individual pursuit of spiritual apotheosis. With Merkavah being one of the earliest forms of direct mystical practice it did not come without concern. There were many reasons that the greater Jewish community would be wary of mystical practice, such as potential misinterpretations, inadequate preparation to undergo a mystic journey, or risks to communal stability since these individual pursuits could distract from the communal nature inherent to Judaism. While all of these concerns were taken seriously, mysticism was still seen as a valid part of the faith. To curb these worries tight restrictions were placed on mystical practices such that only spiritually mature men who were engaged with the faith all their lives could study it.

 

The individualism and pursuit of esoteric knowledge inherent to Merkavah paved the way for the most dominant form of Mystic Judaism - Kabbalah. Originating on the Iberian Peninsula in the early 12th century, Kabbalah borrowed many ideas from Merkavah like individual ascent to the divine and esoteric interpretations, but greatly expanded on these practices and fleshed it out into a new side of Judaism. One of the most foundational developments for Kabbalism was the creation of the Zohar, or “The Book of Splendor,” in the late 13th century. The Zohar is the central Kabbalistic text giving mystical interpretations of the Torah and discussing the nature of God, namely the Tree of Life and Ein Sof.  The Tree of Life is a kind of map in Kabbalistic teachings that tries to show the Sefirot, or divine emanations of God. These Sefirah are arranged in three columns and have lines that show the deep interconnectedness of them. These attributes of God range from the transcendent unknowable crown to the worldly manifestation (Malkhut). The Ein Sof is the fundamental attribute of God that mysticism explores and that is the infinite aspects of God that are beyond comprehension. The Ein Sof is the source from which all eminations flow and from which comes the Tree of Life.

 

This concludes our overview of mysticism throughout the Medieval age, but this in no way encompasses the vast intricacies of Jewish history or faith. Mysticism highlights a subtle nuance in a faith that may at times seem very rigid in tradition. While interpretations and practice in mysticism may seem different to that of traditional Judaism, it is important to note that it was no less accepted by members of the faith. Deeply spiritual practices like Merkavah and Kabbalah were very much valid, just treated with respect and caution because of the power they hold. Through this article I hope you have developed an idea for what Jewish Mysticism has looked like throughout the ages and from there explore more of what you find interesting.

From Pillars to Prostration: Prayer in Medieval Islam

 By: Giselle Acosta

A medieval Quran, the holiest text in Islam and the guiding light for Muslim prayer.

If you woke up at dawn in tenth-century Baghdad, you might be surprised to find you weren’t the only one awake. You could have stumbled upon your host chanting, hands and head pressed to the ground. At that moment, you would have witnessed fajr, one of the five prayers Muslims pray every day. Then, as now, both belief in and performance of those prayers is the foundation of all Islam. 

In the larger scheme of Islam, prayer is one of the five pillars drawn from the Prophetic tradition. Said pillars are as follows: the pillar of the testimony that there is only one God and Muhammed is His messenger; the pillar of salat, or prayer; the pillar of zakat, or payment of the alms-tax; the pillar of hajj, or pilgrimage; and the pillar of sawm, or fasting during the month of Ramadan.

The importance of the second pillar, prayer, is stated over and over in Muslim holy texts. In one story from the hadith, Muhammed answers the question, “Which deed is the dearest to Allah?” with “To offer the prayers at their early stated fixed times.” Accordingly, Muslims believe that prayer is the first act Allah made obligatory for them. It is required five times a day for all Muslims of sound mind who’ve reached puberty. 

Also according to the Quranic text, Muslims are religiously obligated to perform wudu’, or purification, before prayer. This requirement is laid out in a verse, but its most important part is niyya, or intention. If Muslims sincerely believe in the spiritual power of their actions, they cannot do them incorrectly. 

Any of these requirements, if intentionally forsaken, pose serious spiritual consequences. If you intentionally miss prayer in Islam, you are subject to disciplinary action, accusations of heresy, and even renunciation of your religion. The Prophet himself made clear that Allah will not take those offenses lightly. According to Muslim tradition, he’s quoted as saying, “The first act that the slave will be accountable for on the Day of Judgement will be prayer. If it is good, then the rest of his acts will be good. And if it is deficient, then the rest of his acts will be deficient.”

The average medieval Muslim likely followed those doctrinal mandates daily. We will never know whether they had the proper niyya, which could have potentially invalidated all their actions. However, we do know that practicing Muslims would have taken certain steps to follow the Quran’s orders and outwardly profess their faith. 

Medieval Muslims stopped to pray five times per day. Those prayers are the following: fajr, or a four rak’ah (unit) prayer done after dawn and before sunrise; dhuhr, or a four rak’ah prayer done at noon; asr, or a four rak’ah prayer done between noon and sunset; maghrib, or a three rak’ah prayer done right after sunset; and isha’, or a four rak’ah prayer done between twilight and fajr. 

Medieval Muslims also prayed sunnah prayers, which are prayers that are highly recommended, but not required. When performed, they are recited alongside the five daily prayers. 

Virtually every Muslim who prayed engaged in wudu’ beforehand, per the Quran’s instructions. They purified themselves again even in the middle of prayer if they encountered impurities. In Islam, there are two categories of impurities: hadath, or bodily fluids, and najas, or external impurities like untanned hides and precious metals. 

The means of their purification was water, which is considered the ultimate purifying substance in Islam. According to Muslim scholars, water has three degrees of ritual capabilities based on its cleanliness. The only one that can be used in prayer is tahur water, which is believed to be both pure and ritually purifying. It is what medieval Muslims poured over their face, joints, and extremities before prayer. 

During prayer, every rak’ah began with a recitation of the opening chapter of the Quran and ended with ta’min—a variation of “Amen.” The intervening time was filled with recitation of Quranic verses and a specific series of bowing, prostrating, and standing up. At the end of a whole prayer, medieval Muslims recited the Testimony of Faith, which was done with one’s backside resting on the ground and the left leg crossed over the right leg.

Despite its heavy spiritual implications, Muslims could atone for prayers unintentionally missed due to things like sleep or forgetfulness. The process is fairly simple and merely requires reciting the prayer with all the usual steps as soon as it’s remembered. 

Taken altogether, these highly specific and frequently recurring prescriptions might seem baffling to a non-Muslim viewer. However, for most medieval Muslims, they painted a picture of perfect faith. By bathing, prostrating, and even speaking a certain way, they followed the greatest directive of their god, for which they would one day be rewarded in jannah, or heaven. 

Accompanying video: A performance of fajr today, which is probably very similar to fajr as it was performed 1000 years ago.

Sources

Quran Image: 

https://smarthistory.org/illumination-quran/
Video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kuk6HgOH9yQ

Text:

A step by step guide to Islamic prayer

Muhammed al-Bukhārī (d. 870 CE), Sahih al-Bukhari, trans. M. Muhsin Khan: book 9 (times of the prayers)

Wael Hallaq, Shari'a  p. 225-231

 Welcome to "Middle Ground", an online forum for reflection on the history, arts, and beliefs of the medieval world. The installments in this first issue are being written by students in the Harvard University course "Introduction to the Medieval World", under the managing editorship of Reed Morgan, a doctoral candidate in medieval history. Enjoy the journey!