"Helena was visited that emperors might be redeemed." ~ The ancient sources on Saint Helena's discovery of the True Cross

Early 9th century illustration from northern Italy of Saint Helena discovering the True Cross.

The feast day of Saint Helena, the mother of Constantine, is commemorated by Catholics on August 18. Aside from her role as matriarch of the Constantinian dynasty, Helena is most remembered today for her finding of the True Cross of Jesus Christ. This discovery took place during Helena's celebrated pilgrimage to the Holy Land near the end of her life, during which time she undertook the task of uncovering the sites associated with Christ's life and passion and the building of commemorative shrines.

Eusebius Pamphilus, Helena's contemporary and bishop of Caesarea Maritima, records many of Helena's deeds during this trek. Curiously, he does not mention her discovery of the True Cross. For this, we must seek another early source, and one even more illustrious than the historian Eusebius: Saint Ambrose of Milan. 

In his eulogy on the death of Theodosius the Great, a man whom he had once barred from the Sacred Liturgy due to his very public sins, Ambrose provides a lovely interlude commemorating Helena. He uses her discovery of the True Cross, along with the nails of the crucifixion, to relay a moral lesson on the difference between the Christian Roman Emperors who are restrained in their actions by the tenets of Christianity, and the pagan emperors who were encumbered by no such restraints:

Blessed was Constantine with such a mother!...The mother, solicitous for her son to whom the sovereignty of the Roman world had fallen, hastened to Jerusalem and explored the scene of the Lord's Passion....

Helena, then, came and began to visit the holy places. The Spirit inspired her to search for the wood of the Cross, She drew near to Golgotha and said: "Behold the place of combat: where is thy victory? I seek the banner of salvation and I do not find it. Shall I," she said, "be among kings, and the cross of the Lord lie in the dust? Shall I be covered by golden ornaments, and the triumph of Christ by ruins? Is this still hidden, and is the palm of eternal life hidden? How can I believe that I have been redeemed if the redemption itself is not seen?"...

And so she opened the ground and cleared away the dust. She found three fork-shaped gibbets thrown together, covered by debris and hidden by the Enemy. But the triumph of Christ could not be wiped out. She hesitated in her uncertainty. She hesitated, as a woman, but the Holy Spirit inspired her to investigate carefully, because two robbers had been crucified with the Lord. Therefore, she sought the middlebeam, but it could have happened that the debris had mixed the crosses one with another and that chance had interchanged them. She went back to the text of the Gospel and found that on the middle gibbet a title had been displayed, 'Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.' Hence, a sequence of sound reasoning was established and the Cross of salvation was revealed by its title. This is what Pilate answered to the Jews who petitioned him: "What I have written, I have written," that is: "I have not written these things to please you, but that future ages may know them. I have not written for you, but for posterity," saying, as it were: "Let Helena have something to read whereby she may recognize the cross of the Lord."

She discovered, then, the title. She adored the King, not the wood, indeed, because this is an error of the Gentiles and a vanity of the wicked. But she adored Him who hung on the tree, whose name was inscribed in the title...

She sought the nails with which the Lord was crucified, and found them. From one nail she ordered a bridle to be made, from the other she wove a diadem. She turned the one to an ornamental, the other to a devotional, use. Mary was visited to liberate Eve; Helena was visited that emperors might be redeemed. So she sent to her son Constantine a diadem adorned with jewels which were interwoven with the iron of the Cross and enclosed the more precious jewel of divine redemption. She sent the bridle, also. Constantine used both, and transmitted his faith to later kings. And so the beginning of the faith of the emperors is the holy relic which is upon the bridle. From that came the faith whereby persecution ended and devotion to God took its place....

But I ask: Why was the holy relic upon the bridle if not to curb the insolence of emperors, to check the wantonness of tyrants, who as horses neigh after lust that they may be allowed to commit adultery unpunished? What infamies do we not find in the Neros, the Caligulas, and the rest, for whom there was nothing holy upon the bridle? 

What else, then, did Helena accomplish by her desire to guide the reins than to seem to say to all emperors through the Holy Spirit: "Do not become like the horse and mule," and with the bridle and bit to restrain the jaws of those who did not realize that they were kings to rule those subject to them? For power easily led them into vice, and like cattle they defiled themselves in promiscuous lust. They knew not God. The Cross of the Lord restrained them and recalled them from their fall into wickedness. [Fathers of the Church, Vol. 22, Funeral Orations, pp 325-331]

Ambrose's eulogy for Theodosius was written about 70 years after the death of Helena.

Additional details on the discovery of the True Cross are provided by (among others) Hermias Sozomen in his Ecclesiastical History, which was written approximately 120 years after the death of Helena: 

...The emperor [Constantine] rejoiced exceedingly at the restoration of unity of opinion in the Catholic Church [following the Council of Nicaea], and desirous of expressing in behalf of himself, his children, and the empire, the gratitude towards God which the unanimity of the bishops inspired, he directed that a house of prayer should be erected to God at Jerusalem near the place called Calvary. 

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At the same time his mother Helena repaired to the city for the purpose of offering up prayer, and of visiting the sacred places. Her zeal for Christianity made her anxious to find the wood which had formed the adorable cross. But it was no easy matter to discover either this relic or the Lord's sepulcher, for the Greeks, who in former times had persecuted the Church, and who, at the first promulgation of Christianity, had had recourse to every artifice to exterminate it, had concealed that spot under much heaped up earth, and elevated what before was quite depressed, as it looks now, and the more effectually to conceal them, had enclosed the entire place of the resurrection and Mount Calvary within a wall, and had, moreover, ornamented the whole locality, and paved it with stone. They also erected a temple to Venus, and set up a little image, so that those who repaired there to worship Christ would appear to bow the knee to Venus, and that thus the true cause of offering worship in that place would, in course of time, be forgotten. And that as Christians would not dare fearlessly to frequent the place or to point it out to others, the temple and statue would come to be regarded as exclusively appertaining to the Greeks. 

At length, however, the place was discovered, and the fraud about it so zealously maintained was detected. Some say that the facts were first disclosed by a Hebrew who dwelt in the East, and who derived his information from some documents which had come to him by paternal inheritance. But it seems more accordant with truth to suppose that God revealed the fact by means of signs and dreams, for I do not think that human information is requisite when God thinks it best to make manifest the same. 

When by command of the emperor the place was excavated deeply, the cave whence our Lord arose from the dead was discovered. And at no great distance, three crosses were found and another separate piece of wood, on which were inscribed in white letters in Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin, the following words: "Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews." These words, as the sacred book of the Gospels relates, were placed by command of Pilate, governor of Judæa, over the head of Christ. There yet, however, remained a difficulty in distinguishing the Divine cross from the others. For the inscription had been wrenched from it and thrown aside, and the cross itself had been cast aside with the others, without any distinction, when the bodies of the crucified were taken down. For according to history, the soldiers found Jesus dead upon the cross, and they took him down, and gave him up to be buried, while, in order to accelerate the death of the two thieves, who were crucified on either hand, they broke their legs, and then took down the crosses, and flung them out of the way. It was no concern of theirs to deposit the crosses in their first order, for it was growing late, and as the men were dead, they did not think it worth while to remain to attend to the crosses. 

A more Divine information than could be furnished by man was therefore necessary in order to distinguish the Divine cross from the others, and this revelation was given in the following manner: There was a certain lady of rank in Jerusalem who was afflicted with a most grievous and incurable disease. Macarius, bishop of Jerusalem, accompanied by the mother of the emperor and her attendants, repaired to her bedside. After engaging in prayer, Macarius signified by signs to the spectators that the Divine cross would be the one which, on being brought in contact with the invalid, should remove the disease. He approached her in turn with each of the crosses, but when two of the crosses were laid on her, it seemed but folly and mockery to her for she was at the gates of death. When, however, the third cross was in like manner brought to her, she suddenly opened her eyes, regained her strength, and immediately sprang from her bed, well. It is said that a dead person was, in the same way, restored to life. 

The venerated wood having been thus identified, the greater portion of it was deposited in a silver case, in which it is still preserved in Jerusalem: but the empress sent part of it to her son Constantine, together with the nails by which the body of Christ had been fastened....

The above incidents we have related precisely as they were delivered to us by men of great accuracy, by whom the information was derived by succession from father to son; and others have recorded the same events in writing for the benefit of posterity. [Sozomen: Ecclesiastical History, Book II, Chapter 1]

Regular readers of this blog know that Helena is among my favorite saints. Here are a couple other posts about her:

• Helena's role in Constantine's execution of Crispus and Fausta
• Review of Saint Helena and the True Cross by Louis de Wohl

"Faithfully compile the acts of the martyrs, omitting nothing." ~ The duty of the Popes to preserve the history of the Church

Images of Popes Clement I, Anteros, Fabian, and Damasus I, all holding codices indicating their legacies
of defending the doctrines and preserving the history of the Church.

Immediately prior to a Papal Conclave seems like the absolute best time to break out the Liber Pontificalis – that fascinating, frustrating, and enigmatic work of Late Antiquity that purports to provide a brief biographical sketch of each of the first 65 Popes of Rome.

This is perhaps the fourth or fifth time I have read the Liber cover to cover, not including the dozens of times I’ve referenced individual accounts for research purposes, posts, comments, etc. Admittedly, the text is littered with errors: some obvious, others requiring a PhD in Patristics to spot. Thankfully, the version I most commonly use includes copious footnotes by early 20th century classicist, Louise Ropes Loomis, who herself draws heavily from such hoary authorities as Mommsen and Duchesne. 

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If you decide to embark upon reading the Liber, it is well to keep in mind that the work in its earliest iteration was likely assembled in the 6th century, and based on earlier sources which the anonymous compiler may have known only imperfectly. As a result, the earliest entries tend to be the most disappointing in terms of details and accuracy. Those sketches closer to the compiler’s own day are much more satisfying, replete with curious anecdotes and details found nowhere else in the historical record.  

There are a few clear themes that run throughout the entire work. These are as follows:

• The Popes as martyrs and confessors—and the rare exceptions which prove the rule.
• The Popes as defenders of doctrine.
• The Popes as builders and restorers of the physical edifices of the Church.
• The Popes as guardians of the relics and monuments of the great saints and martyrs.
• The Popes as stewards of the Church's wealth, derived from princes and generous donors.
• The Popes as recorders and transmitters of the history of the Church.

It is that last bullet that I’d like to focus on a bit here. 

As a historical aggregator himself, the compiler of the Liber Pontificalis gives due honor to those who came before him who preserved the records of the ancient Church. He tells us that the fourth Pope, Saint Clement, who lived in the 1st century AD, “created seven districts and assigned them to notaries of the church that they might make diligent, careful and searching inquiry, each in his own district, regarding the acts of the martyrs.” Whether Clement actually did this, or whether the compiler is ascribing this act to a great ancient saint like Clement to ennoble his own profession is a matter of scholarly debate. In any event, the compiler of the Liber is the only one to record this aspect of Clement's biography.

Anecdotes recorded in the later sketches are more likely to be accurate. In the record of the practically un-remembered Pope Anteros who perished after an abbreviated reign of 40 days in AD 236—likely as a martyr—only one deed worthy of note is recorded by the author of the Liber Pontificalis:

“He collected carefully from the notaries the acts of the martyrs and of the readers and deposited them in the church, for the sake of one Maximinus, a priest, who had been crowned with martyrdom.”

The successor of Anteros, Pope Fabianus, who reigned until AD 250, continued the work begun by his short-lived immediate predecessor. The Liber says that he “created seven subdeacons to be associated with the seven notaries, that they might faithfully compile the acts of the martyrs, omitting nothing.”

Fragmentary grave marker of Pope Anteros in the Cemetery of Callixtos.

Unfortunately, from AD 249 through AD 311, there occurred three Roman Empire-wide persecutions of Christians under the emperors Decius (AD 249-251), Valerian (AD 258-260) and the Tetrarchy of Diocletian (AD 304-311). The aforementioned Pope St. Fabianus was among the first victims of the Decian persecution. Certainly during the last of these in the early 4th century, a systematic search was made for Christian literary works which, when found, would be consigned to the flames. I have previously written posts concerning the evidence for such efforts by the persecutors here, here, and here. It may be presumed that many, if not all of the acts of the Martyrs collected by Clement, Anteros, and Fabianus were destroyed during this time.

Seated statue believed to
be a representation of
Saint Hippolytus of Rome. 

The destroyers were very thorough in their work. Case in point are the Acts of Saint Hippolytus who lived a very impactful life in the early 3rd century AD. He was a theologian, a bishop, possibly an anti-Pope, and likely a Novatian heretic who was reconciled with the Church prior to his martyrdom. Saint Jerome lists him among the "illustrious men," while admitting that he has not been able to learn the name of the city of which Hippolytus had been bishop. 

It wasn't until Damasus was made Pope about AD 366, that a far-reaching project of recovery was begun to restore the glorious history of the early martyrs that had been lost during the persecutions. To that end, according to the Liber, Damasus "searched out many bodies of the saints and found them and marked them with verses.” Many of these poetic epitaphs have come down to us from antiquity, and I have posted about them previously. But in some cases, even such a zealous researcher as Pope Damasus was at a loss. Regarding the aforementioned Hippolytus, Damasus admits his ignorance in this touchingly honest epitaph:

"Hippolytus, it is said, once a venerable bishop,

At the time when a schism arose in the city of Rome,

Yet it is not certain what he did or from where,

Whether a martyr, an exile, or reconciled,

Damasus placed this, uncertain but with love for the faith."

[From Damasi epigrammata. Translated into English by Grok3]

So as we pray for the Holy Spirit to bless the Conclave and provide the Church with a saintly Pope, let us beg the intercession of those early Pontiffs who worked to preserve the historical records of the ancient Church and the glorious Acts of the Martyrs:

Papa Clemens, ora pro nobis!
Papa Anteros, ora pro nobis!
Papa Fabiane, ora pro nobis!
Papa Damase, ora pro nobis!
Sancte Hippolyte, ora pro nobis!

“It is better to be Herod’s hog than his heir.” ~ Did Herod's Massacre of the Innocents actually happen?

Detail from The Massacre of the Innocents by Léon Cogniet, 1824.

Three days after the feast of the Nativity of Jesus, the Catholic Church traditionally commemorates the massacre of the Holy Innocents – the children of Bethlehem slain by King Herod following the birth of Christ.

This event is recorded in the Gospel of Saint Matthew in connection with the arrival of the Magi – the Wise Men from the East – who had followed a star to Jerusalem, and had sought out the newborn king of the Jews. According to Matthew’s account, King Herod requested that the Magi return to him after finding the child, ostensibly so that Herod could join in worshipping the newborn King.

But the Magi were suspicious of Herod’s true motives. Matthew’s Gospel gives the account of what happened next:

“And having received an answer in sleep that they should not return to Herod, they went back another way into their country…. Then Herod perceiving that he was deluded by the wise men, was exceeding angry; and sending killed all the men children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the borders thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men.  Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremias the prophet, saying:  ‘A voice in Rama was heard, lamentation and great mourning; Rachel bewailing her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.’” [Matthew 2:12, 16-18]

Matthew is alone among the evangelists in recording this event. There is also no non-Christian Roman, Greek, or Jewish historian who reports on it directly. As a result, the massacre has fallen under the skepticism of the modern era which views all early Christian sources as highly suspect. Indeed, there exists a tendency in some circles to consider any events recorded in Christian sources which are not corroborated by contemporary non-Christian sources as little more than hagiographic fantasies, interpolations or outright fabrications. Meanwhile non-Christian sources are not treated with anything like that kind of rigor.

As readers to this blog know, I tend to give early Christian writers the benefit of the doubt, and will even give late antique and early medieval writers latitude when they are discussing earlier events, as many of them are relating information from more ancient sources that were subsequently lost.

In the case of Herod's massacre of the children of Bethlehem, I see no reason why Matthew’s account shouldn’t be taken at face value. It is cited by Christian authors as early as Saint Justin Martyr, who mentions Matthew’s account in the mid-second century AD in his Dialogue with Trypho (Chapter 78). It’s worth noting that Trypho was a Jew and Justin was a convert to Christianity from paganism. While Trypho disputes much of what Justin says, it is not recorded that he disputed the historicity of Justin’s mention of Herod’s slaughter of the innocents.

A similar case may be found in Origen’s work, Against Celsus. Celsus was a pagan philosopher who wrote an anti-Christian polemic in the mid-to-late 2nd century AD entitled The True Word. Most of what we know about this work is contained in Origen’s response which was written in the mid-3rd century, and in which he quotes freely from The True Word. As a rhetorical device, Celsus puts some of his arguments into the mouth of a fictional Jew, and it seems fairly clear that Celsus had learned a considerable amount about the relationship between Judaism and Christianity from Jewish associates. Even so, Celsus retained a Hellenistic antipathy toward the Jews as he frequently held their practices up to scorn. We find a passage in Against Celsus, which discusses the massacre of the innocents, saying specifically that Celsus's fictional Jew did not believe that Herod had conspired against the infant Christ, nor that an angel had warned Joseph in a dream to flee into Egypt. (Against Celsus, Book 1: Chapter 61). Later in that same paragraph, however, Celsus assumes that this event did occur. He has his Jewish mouthpiece say to Jesus: 

“But if [the massacre of the innocents] was done in order that you might not reign in [Herod's] stead when you had grown to man's estate, why, after you did reach that estate, do you not become a king?” 

Of course, part of the reason Celsus must doubt that the massacre of the innocents took place is because he has his own thoroughly blasphemous alternate version of the infancy of Christ, the details of which “are frequently identical with those of the Talmud.” (Celsus ~ Jewish Encyclopedia, 1906) 

Finally, we have perhaps the most interesting and obscure of all the ancient references to the massacre of the innocents. It is provided by the pagan writer Macrobius in the early 400s AD. This late Roman author penned a book of various anecdotes compiled on the occasion of the Saturnalia. In one passage, Macrobius provides a litany of jokes and clever sayings, including the following: “On being informed that among the boys under two years of age whom Herod had ordered to be slain in Syria, Herod’s own son had also been slain, Augustus said: “It is better to be Herod’s hog than his son.” This quip probably raises more questions than it answers. At the very least, Macrobius seems to have his facts scrambled given that Herod's son, Antipater, was an adult when he was put to death around the time of Christ's birth. What the quote does reveal is that even a late antique pagan like Macrobius was aware of the massacre of the innocents, an event that was most likely an accepted part of conventional knowledge among the Roman educated classes.

A point often mentioned to nullify the massacre is that the event is nowhere mentioned by the great Jewish historian of the 1st century AD, Flavius Josephus. As useful as he is in recording in detail the reign of Herod, it can not be expected that Josephus provides every detail. It has been pointed out by more than one scholar that Bethlehem was a small town with a likely population of less than 2,000 at the time of Christ's birth. The number of boys under age two was probably fairly small—perhaps 40-50 at the most. Considering the scale of some of the atrocities committed by Herod that Josephus does record, is it surprising that the butchery of 40-50 infants might pass unnoticed? A list of Herod's enormities may be found in the excellent article by Richard T. France, "Herod and the Children of Bethlehem," Novum Testamentem, Vol. 21, Fasc. 2 (Apr., 1979), pp. 98-120

Ciarán Hinds (right) accurately portrayed a paranoid and malevolent
Herod the Great in The Nativity Story (2006).

I tend to agree with the conclusion offered by Dr. France in the above mentioned article: 

"The historical evidence, such as it is, suggests that the incident is not in itself improbable, but very much in keeping with what we know of Herod's reign. Among the more striking atrocities of that period, it was a relatively minor incident, which has understandably not left any clearly independent mark in the very selective records of Herod's reign." 

Rather than being so quick to dismiss scriptural narratives as fabrications, we should at least apply to them the same credibility thresholds that we apply to other ancient sources. 

Who was Veronica? Tracking down one of the most beloved figures from Christ's Passion

Christ heals the woman with a flow of blood as depicted in the
Catacombs of Marcellinus and Peter in Rome, 4th century AD.

One of the more enigmatic figures from early Christian history is Saint Veronica—the woman known to Catholics from the Sixth Station of the Cross, who is said to have wiped the face of Jesus while He carried His cross on the road to Calvary. There is a memorable and beautifully presented sequence of scenes featuring Veronica in Mel Gibson's Passion of the Christ. But nowhere is the woman or the incident described mentioned in Sacred Scripture. 

To learn about Veronica, we must turn to extra-biblical sources. The first mention of a woman named Veronica associated with Our Lord may be found in an apocryphal work known alternately as the Acts of Pilate or the Gospel of Nicodemus. The scholarly consensus is that this work does not come from Apostolic times, but was written during the Patristic period sometime after the middle of the 4th century AD. Even so, it is considered a suitably ancient work and it likely includes traditions held by the community of the very early Church. The work records the names of several otherwise unnamed minor personages mentioned in the Gospels, such as the centurion at the crucifixion (Longinus) and the two thieves crucified along with Jesus (Dismas and Gesmas). Also named is the woman whom Jesus healed of a hemorrhage of blood in Matthew 9:20-22:

There was found there also a woman named Veronica [or Bernice], and she said: Twelve years I was in an issue of blood, and I only touched the edge of his garment, and directly I was cured. [Acts of Pilate, Chapter 7]

This is important because it connects Veronica with another, more reliable ancient source: The Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius. In this work, we find the following fascinating passage:

Since I have mentioned this city [Caesarea Philippi] I do not think it proper to omit an account which is worthy of record for posterity. For they say that the woman with an issue of blood, who, as we learn from the sacred Gospel, received from our Savior deliverance from her affliction, came from this place, and that her house is shown in the city, and that remarkable memorials of the kindness of the Savior to her remain there.

For there stands upon an elevated stone, by the gates of her house, a brazen image of a woman kneeling, with her hands stretched out, as if she were praying. Opposite this is another upright image of a man, made of the same material, clothed decently in a double cloak, and extending his hand toward the woman. At his feet, beside the statue itself, is a certain strange plant, which climbs up to the hem of the brazen cloak, and is a remedy for all kinds of diseases.

They say that this statue is an image of Jesus. It has remained to our day, so that we ourselves also saw it when we were staying in the city.

Nor is it strange that those of the Gentiles who, of old, were benefited by our Saviour, should have done such things, since we have learned also that the likenesses of his apostles Paul and Peter, and of Christ himself, are preserved in paintings, the ancients being accustomed, as it is likely, according to a habit of the Gentiles, to pay this kind of honor indiscriminately to those regarded by them as deliverers. [Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius Pamphilus, Book VI, Chapter 18]

Recall that Eusebius was writing in the early 4th century AD. There is so much packed into the above passage that it will probably require a post of its own at some point.

The Chronicle of John Malalas (written in the late 6th century), elaborates on this episode, relating that Veronica petitioned Herod (probably Phillip the Tetrarch also known as Herod Phillip II) for permission to raise a statue to Jesus. Incredibly, Herod not only agreed but ordered her to set up a larger statue than she had first proposed:

King Herod, hearing this prayer of hers, was surprised at the marvel. And fearing the mysterious healing, he said: “this healing, O woman, is worth a larger statue. Go then and set up whatever statue you wish, praising with zeal him who had healed you.” And straightway Veronica, who was formerly bleeding, set up in the midst of her city Paneas a bronze statue to the Lord our God Jesus Christ, of hammered bronze mixed with a small portion of gold and silver. That image stands to this day in the city of Paneas, having been carried many years ago from the place where it had stood in the midst of the town to a holy church. I found in that city of Paneas a memorandum about it by a certain Bassus, a former Jew become a Christian, with the life of all the former reigning kings in the territory of Judaea. [Chronicle of John Malalas, 10.239]

Malalas's notice here is important for two reasons. First, he connects Veronica's name with the woman healed of a flow of blood in the late 6th century, demonstrating that he was familiar with the Acts of Pilate or another ancient source with the same information. Second, he's writing in the Greek east, not the Latin west where Veronica's name and role would become more legendary in the Middle Ages.

While it is not impossible that this Veronica also wiped the face of Our Lord during his passion, I was unable to locate any early records corroborating this event. The earliest sources mentioning it seem to be from the high Middle Ages. It is interesting to note, however, that the name of Veronica is associated with one of the earliest recorded images of Christ, apparently commissioned by a saintly woman who saw Our Lord in the flesh.

As for the mysterious artifact known as the Veil of Veronica, that will have to be the subject of a future post.

"I am tossed with the waves of this wicked world" ~ Pope Saint Gregory the Great and Christian endurance during times of worldly distress

Pope St. Gregory the Great in marble as executed by Nicholas Cordier in AD 1602.
This work resides in the Oratory of Saint Barbara which is part of the church of Saint Gregory
on the Caelian Hill in Rome. This church was built on the site of Gregory's boyhood home
and also contains a statue by the same artist of Gregory's mother, Saint Silvia. 

September 3 is the feast of Pope St. Gregory the Great. This most significant of popes lived during a time of societal dissolution, when the Roman Empire in the West was in its final death agony. Though the Eastern Empire had re-established dominion in Africa and Italy in the 550s AD under Justinian, the invasion of the brutal Lombards in AD 568 proved unstoppable, leaving Italy in a state of perpetual fracture and chaos that would last centuries.

Following is the opening to Gregory's work, The Dialogues. This great work was written during a period of brief respite, when Gregory had the opportunity to look back on the decades of tumult, death and destruction that he and all of Italy had managed to endure. Even over 1,400 years later, the Dialogues continue to resonate with modern readers, offering a glimpse into a period when it seemed to many that everything good in the world was going to pieces, while cruelty and brutality reigned supreme.

In the Dialogues, Gregory begins by setting a gloomy tone, lamenting that his life of spiritual contemplation had been interrupted and overwhelmed with the care of temporal affairs:

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Being upon a certain day too much over-charged with the troubles of worldly business, in which oftentimes men are enforced to do more than of duty they are bound, I retired myself into a solitary place, very fit for a sad and melancholy disposition—where each discontentment and dislike concerning such secular affairs might plainly show themselves, and all things that usually bring grief, mustered together, might freely be presented before mine eyes. In which place after that I had sat a long while, in much silence and great sorrow of soul, at length Peter, my dear son and deacon, came unto me—a man whom, from his younger years, I had always loved most entirely, and used him for my companion in the study of sacred scripture: who, seeing me drowned in such a dump of sorrow, spake unto me in this manner:

"What is the matter? Or what bad news have you heard? For certain I am, that some extraordinary sadness doth now afflict your mind."

To whom I returned this answer: "O Peter, the grief which continually 1 endure is unto me both old and new: old through common use, and new by daily increasing. For mine unhappy soul, wounded with worldly business, doth now call to mind in what state it was, when I lived in mine Abbey, and how then it was superior to all earthly matters, far above all transitory and corruptible pelf, how it did usually think upon nothing but heavenly things....For do you not behold at this present, how I am tossed with the waves of this wicked world, and see the ship of my soul beaten with the storms of a terrible tempest? and therefore, when I remember my former state of life, I cannot but sigh to look back, and cast mine eyes upon the forsaken shore.

But Gregory doesn't remain in this state of gloom, and instead suggests that Peter ask him questions. Peter gamely takes up the challenge. When Peter relates that he's never heard of anyone in Italy famous for living virtuously, Gregory sets him straight, offering a series of tales meant to demonstrate how even during times of severe tribulation, the hope of Christ shines forth through the works of the virtuous. He tells numerous stories of saints, heroes and villains from his own lifetime, the most substantial among them is the longest extant biography of the famous Saint Benedict of Nursia. 

Though occasionally considered folk-history similar to the stories in the Golden Legend, the Dialogues served a higher function than simple history—they were meant to be a spiritual exhortation to Gregory’s worn and weary countrymen. To modern readers, these tales of visions, miracles, virtue rewarded and wickedness punished paint a vivid portrait of daily life amid the wreckage of once-prosperous Roman Italy as the region lurched painfully into the so-called Dark Ages. 

Many of the stories in the Dialogues have been featured on this blog, including the following:

• Saint Maurus Walks on Water ~ As told by Pope Saint Gregory the Great
• The curious tale of Florentius and the bear ~ early 6th century Italy
• "Now, leave if you can" ~ Saint Scholastica and her brother, Saint Benedict
• "Fiery lances and armies appearing from the north." ~ Gregory the Great and the devastation of Roman Italy by the Lombards
• Saint Benedict Chases the Devil off a Boulder
• When Saint Benedict met Totila, King of the Goths
• "I beseech you to pray unto our Lord for me" ~ Ancient Roots of the Doctrine of Purgatory, Part II
• The Rebel Usurper who Became a Saint ~ Saint Hermengild, prince of Visigothic Spain
• "Cut off a thong of his skin" ~ The martyrdom of Saint Herculanus AD 549
• "The blessed pope John, worn by illness, gave up the ghost and died in prison" ~ Pope Saint John I, a political martyr of the 6th century AD
• "The fire marvelous strangely turned back" ~ Saint Marcellinus of Ancona
• Paulinus of Nola ~ A Roman plutocrat who became a Christian saint

Speaking Boldly of the Past ~ Phillip Campbell's Power from On High: Theocratic Kingship from Constantine to the Reformation

As an aficionado of Phillip Campbell’s books for younger readers (The Story of Civilization, The Story of the Philippines, etc.), I am used to his more informal, witty, slightly chatty style, interspersed with sometimes comical vignettes. Power from On High: Theocratic Kingship from Constantine to the Reformation is a very different type of book. It is a more scholarly tome exploring the evolution of the role of Christian monarch from its inception during the later Roman Empire through a millennium of the Middle Ages until the retirement of Emperor Charles V in AD 1556.

Given the renewed interest in Christian monarchy among some in traditional Catholic circles, this is a timely study. Reading Power from On High reminded me somewhat of Machiavelli's Discourses on Livy in that it is an attempt by a contemporary scholar to ponder antique forms of government. Of course, Machiavelli was attempting to inform and influence the political thought of his own day with examples from antiquity. Though Campbell is attempting nothing so overt with this work, it is interesting to note that he begins his preface with an example of how modern politicians utilize propaganda to project an image of themselves for public consumption. Just so, Campbell argues, did the Christian kings of the Medieval period advertise their allegiance to the Catholic Church as a means of legitimizing their rule.

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Power from on High is a deep, insightful and thought-provoking book which should be read by anyone with an interest in political history, the political present, or the political future. We live in an era which I suspect future historians will refer to as the twilight of the Democratic age—when the great liberal democracies of Europe and the Americas grew hoary, bloated, arthritic and corrupt to the core, leaving their citizens frustrated, disillusioned and oppressed. In such a context, it is well to think about what came before so that we may begin thinking in terms of what may follow.

Of course, the piece of this book that I found the most fascinating was the first third or so which dealt with the emergence of Christian kingship. This section begins with pre-Christian concepts of kingship and how these merged with and mutated Greco-Roman democratic and republican ideals, culminating with the emergence of the Roman dominate monarchy of Diocletian and Constantine. Campbell doesn't quite get down to the granular level of Elizabeth Digeser in her outstanding work, The Making of a Christian Empire: Lactantius and Rome. What this section does do very effectively is set the stage for the core of the book which covers Medieval kingship.

I particularly enjoyed the segment on parrhesia which, I am embarrassed to say, is a term had not encountered before. Derived from ancient Greek, parrhesia refers to "freedom of speech," or more precisely, the ability to speak the truth to power boldly. The word is used to describe how Jesus spoke to the Pharisees as well as how Peter and John would later address the council of princes, priests and scribes in Jerusalem in Acts of the Apostles. Campbell provides several noteworthy examples of parrhesia among Christian religious leaders who had the audacity to confront and even rebuke Christian political figures. Saint Athanasisus is shown confronting Constantine the Great regarding false accusations made against him in a way that would have been unthinkable for any common citizen. Examples of of Saint Ambrose doing the same with Theodosius I are also offered. 

The only passage in this section that could have used a bit more elucidation was an anecdote in which the same Saint Ambrose boldly confronted the usurper, Eugenius, in a letter explaining why the former had failed to meet the latter in Milan. In this circumstance, it was most likely not a Christian bishop reproving a Christian emperor. Eugenius had taken the throne through the machinations of the Frankish general, Arbogast, and it was widely believed that Arbogast had arranged the murder of the rightful Western emperor, Valentinian II. Worse, Eugenius was viewed as potentially being a second Julian the Apostate, having removed the Christian courtiers of Valentinian II and replaced them with pagans, and restored the pagan Altar of Victory to the Senate House in Rome. Christian historians of the era considered Eugenius a lukewarm Christian at best, a "sacrilegious man" at worst. Ambrose's letter of rebuke was probably meant for public consumption as a stroke against Eugenius to weaken the resolve of his Christian Roman followers. The great saint likely had little hope that Eugenius would have his very unchristian behavior curbed by bold remonstrance. Indeed, Eugenius's ally, Arbogast, is said to have quipped upon leaving Milan that when he and Eugenius returned victorious, they would make a stable in the basilica of the church of Milan and would review the clergy under arms. Fortunately for Ambrose and the Christian Empire, Eugenius and Arbogast were defeated by Theodosius at the Battle of the Frigidus River. 

Returning to Power from On High, the majority of the book covers in some detail the Medieval ideal of kingship and the frequent squabbles between kings and princes on one side, and popes and bishops on the other, to define the boundaries between ecclesiastical and temporal authority. Campbell's discussions of the ebb and flow of this battle over the course of centuries—from Charlemagne the Great, the archetypal Christian Emperor crowned by the Pope in Rome, to Otto the Great who deposed two popes and imposed one of his own. Though my knowledge of the history of this era is pretty shallow, I enjoyed learning about the various conflicts and how they impacted political and religious events downstream from them.

The centerpiece of the book is the chapter on the Investiture Controversy. For me, the Investiture Controversy was one of those items in a history textbook that I knew were important, but for what reason, I could not say. This chapter helped put the controversy into sharper focus. I had not appreciated that medieval Christian kingship was often thought of as a type of priesthood by virtue of the anointing that the king commonly received upon taking the throne. This priesthood, at least at first, was thought to encompass only the priest's function as preacher. Later, this sacred function would extend to the Christian monarch's supposed prerogative to create bishops in his own realm. It was over this function that the Investiture Controversy would be fought. Campbell does a nice job putting the controversy into its historical context, explaining why investiture was such a furiously contentious issue, especially in Germany, during the high Middle Ages.

For those who are troubled by how the Church functions in our own time and who are at a loss to understand how and why certain men get appointed bishop and others who are seemingly more worthy are neglected, this look at history is enlightening. It gives modern readers a sense of what the modern Church has lost since the abolition of Christian monarchs in the early 20th century. With a secular state that is often hostile to Christianity ruling all formerly Christian nations, the Church is always forced into a defensive posture. We end up in a situation like Saint Ambrose as he rebuked the semi-pagan Eugenius, striving to jog his nominally Christian conscience with little hope of success. But, sadly, very few of our modern bishops have the divinely-inspired courage of Ambrose. 

To conclude, if you are a modern Catholic who is curious about how Christian kings once interacted with the Church, you should read Phillip Campbell's Power from On High. If you are a curious reader looking for insight into intractable modern political dilemmas, you should read this book. If you are an informed general reader seeking to learn about the political history of the Christian West, you should read this book. And finally, if you are a traditional Catholic who yearns for the re-establishment of Christian monarchies, you should read this book.

The Church Fathers Were Trads

Engraving of Pope Saint Damasus I by Nicolas San Giorgio, AD 1877.

When reading the Ecclesiastical History of Hermias Sozomen—a work written immediately before the Council of Chalcedon when the universal Church was roiled by a variety of heresies—one picks up the venerable author’s animus for innovation. Indeed, Book IV, Chapter 27 begins with the following passage:

When the spirit of innovation becomes regarded with popular favor, it is scarcely possible to arrest its progress. Inflated as it always is with arrogance, it contemns the institutions of the Fathers, and enacts laws of its own. It even despises the theological doctrines of antiquity, and seeks out zealously a new form of religion of its own devising.

The context of this quote is the turmoil which nearly overwhelmed the Church during the reign of the Arian emperor Constantius II, who gave a free hand to those bishops who had embraced the novelties of Arius to oppress those who supported the decisions of the Council of Nicaea of AD 325. 

A quick text search of the rest of Sozomen’s history reveals similar admonitions against novelty and innovation, including a letter from the Church Council convened at Ariminum (Rimini) in Italy in AD 359, during which the bishops of the West petitioned Constantius uphold the Nicene creed and not to allow novel doctrines:

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We therefore entreat your Clemency to listen to our deputies and to regard them favorably and not to allow the dead to be dishonored by the introduction of alterations and novelties. We pray you to preserve the tradition which we received from our ancestors, who were all wise and prudent and who, we have reason to believe, were led by the Spirit of God. For these innovations not only lead believers to infidelity, but also delude unbelievers…. Again, we beseech you that nothing be taken away from or added to the faith. Let it remain unchanged even as it has continued from the reign of your father to the present time, so that we may not in the future be compelled to leave our churches and undertake long journeys, but that the bishop and people may dwell together in peace… [Book IV, Chapter XVIII]

Constantius would not heed this request, however, and would attempt to force the bishops to reject the Nicene formulary of the Faith, even deposing a pope in the process. 

Later, Sozomen quotes a letter from Pope St. Damasus to the bishops of Illyria (see the image at the beginning of this post) which says much the same thing:

Those who devise strange doctrines ought not to be followed, but the opinions of our fathers ought to be retained, whatever may be the diversity of opinion around us. [Book VI, Chapter XXIV]

Interestingly, appeal to tradition was such a powerful rhetorical weapon in the ancient Church that prelates who would later be condemned as heretics attempted to wield it. In an account of the Council of Antioch of AD 342, Sozomen recounts how the assembled bishops—including the Arian Eusebius of Nicomedia who was now Bishop of Constantinople—after deposing Saint Athanasius, went on to affirm that “they received the faith which had, from the beginning, been handed down by tradition.” [Book III, Chapter 5]

Given the above, it may be pointed out that this spirit of suppressing novelty and holding fast to tradition has been effectively turned on its head by our bishops over the past century. Sadly, those men who are called specifically to preserve the venerable teachings of the Church oftentimes seem almost manic in their rush to discard them. In place of the holy and eternal doctrines that the Church has always taught, they propose doctrinal and pastoral innovations that look, sound and feel eerily similar to the ephemeral doctrines and practices of the princes of this world. 

It is also worth contemplating whether this voluptuous embrace of novelty has caused the Church founded by Jesus Christ to be built up over the past several decades, or to collapse into heap of rubble. In the West, at least, the answer is set starkly before our eyes.

Ruins of St. Bonaventure Catholic Church, Philadelphia, PA. Built in 1906,
demolished in 2013 after lying abandoned for 20 years. Photo from Hidden City.

"Art thou not Sebastian whom I before commanded to be slain with arrows?" ~ A few interesting points about Saint Sebastian's ancient Passio.

The Burial of Saint Sebastian (1877) by Alejandro Ferrant y Fischermans. Click to enlarge.

Saint Sebastian is one of the great ancient martyrs of the Roman Catholic Church as well as one of the saints most frequently depicted in artwork down through the centuries. The image of Sebastian tied to a stake, his body riddled with arrows, is one of the most immediately recognizable and jarring images of the ancient martyrs.

As with many of the martyrs from the days prior to Constantine, his story has become somewhat muddled. He is mentioned in a homily of Saint Ambrose (On Psalm 118) as having come from Milan. Most of the rest of his biography comes from a Passio of dubious provenance. Scholars of the previous era ascribed this work to Saint Ambrose himself, though more modern scholars tend to dismiss this attribution. Few doubt the antiquity of the Passio, however, and the existing work is commonly dated to the early fifth century—or about a century after the events recorded therein.

As with many of the ancient martyrdom accounts, the Passio has not been translated into English. It does, however, exist excerpted in numerous other works, including a detailed synopsis which may be found at The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity site, sponsored by Oxford University. 

A different type of synopsis of the Passio may be found in the Homilies of Aelfric of Eynsham, a late 10th century Anglo Saxon abbot who transcribed the Latin tale into Old English for the edification of his monks. Here is the ancient story of Sebastian’s martyrdom as told in part with excerpts from Aelfric’s work. The entirety of the account may be found here: Skeat: Aelfric's Lives of Saints, p. 117 and following.

The Passion of Saint Sebastian, Martyr, January 20

There was a holy servant of God, called Sebastian, who was a long time in the city of Milan for education, and was baptized into Christ with full faith. He was a very prudent man, truthful in word, righteous in judgment, in counsel foreseeing, trusty in need, a prevailing intercessor, shining in goodness, and in all his ways honorable. 

Daily he fulfilled his Lord's service zealously, but he concealed, nevertheless, his deeds from the emperor Diocletian who was the devil's worshipper. Diocletian loved the holy man, notwithstanding, and knew not that he believed in the living God. He set him as prefect over a cohort, and bade that he should always be in his presence; and all the household held him as a father, and honored him with love, because God loved him. He followed the emperor, unknown to him, however, not as if he durst not suffer for his Lord, but he desired to encourage those whom the heathen emperor daily killed for their faith in Christ.

Diocletian, as we know, reigned from AD 284 through AD 305 when he abdicated and retired to a fortified palace on the Dalmatian coast. The notion that secret Christians may have existed in the court of Diocletian is in no way surprising and jives well with the account of Lactantius in On the Deaths of the Persecutors. Indeed, it is possible that Diocletian’s own wife, Prisca, and daughter, Valeria, were secret Christians. 

Sebastian was able to use his position in the court to console the brothers Marcus and Marcellianus who were imprisoned as Christians by Chromatius, the Prefect of Rome, and condemned to death unless they offered sacrifice to the pagan divinities. These brothers were from an aristocratic family and both wavered as their family members attempted to convince them to save their lives by abjuring the Christian faith. Due to the stature of their families, Chromatius offered a thirty day reprieve for the martyrs to consider their position.

During this time, however, Sebastian convinced the family of Marcus and Marcellianus to accept Christ. When the thirty days expired, Tranquillinus, the father of the young men, came before Chromatius and professed his own faith in Christ, mentioning that his gout had been cured following his baptism. As it turns out, Chromatius suffered from the same ailment and would later secretly summon Sebastian and the priest Polycarp so that they might also heal him. In order to effect the healing, Sebastian and Polycarp endured a three day fast, after which they returned to Chromatius and enjoined him to allow them to destroy all the pagan idols in his house. Chromatius agreed, and the two Christians proceeded to burn, smash, or melt down all of the 200 images of the pagan divinities in the house. 

What happens next is very strange indeed, as it seems to tie this ancient Christian literary source to one of the most fascinating archaeological discoveries of the 20th century.

When Chromatius failed to recover after his house was cleansed, Sebastian and Polycarp then deduced that something evil must yet remain in his house. At this point, Chromatius reveals something interesting: 

“I have in my treasure-chest a wonderful instrument, for my information, according to the position of the stars as they stand in the heavens. On that instrument Tarquinius, my father, spent of red gold alone more than two hundred pounds.”

Previously in the same narrative, this instrument is described as follows: 

An excellent work of mechanical contrivance, of glass, and gold, and of glistening crystal. This instrument was designed to show with certainty by the stars what should happen to every man in the course of his life; but it was so formed according to the heathen error.

The remains of the so-called Antikythera Mechanism, believed to be an
ancient machine used to compute the movement of the stars and planets.

Does this sound familiar? If you are at all aware of Mediterranean archaeology, it should. In 1901, some sponge divers found a strange ancient artifact in the waters off the Greek island of Antikythera. This item would become known as the Antikythera Mechanism, a type of ancient gear-driven computer used to predict the movements of the stars. It is tantalizing to think that this passage in the Passio of St. Sebastian is actually describing a similar type of machine. It may also be an indication that the Antikythera mechanism was not unique and that other similar devices were known even as late as the 5th century AD.

To get back to our narrative, Sebastian and Polycarp then discoursed to Chromatius upon the evils and vanity of astrology, indicating that the infernal machine must be disposed of. They even put their lives on the line, saying that if they broke the costly device and Chromatius did not recover from his illness, then they would submit to being thrown into a furnace and killed. Chromatius agreed. The device was broken. And Chromatius subsequently recovered. As a result, he and his son became Christians. 

Now, certainly there will be some who will latch onto this episode as an example of Christians being so "anti-science" that they even destroyed a precious ancient computing device. Before advancing this claim, however, it is well to keep in mind that the device itself, as expensive and finely crafted as it may have been, was not actually used for any scientific purpose. It was used for the superstitious purpose of attempting to predict the future via the movement of the stars.

Chromatius subsequently resigned his position as Prefect of the city of Rome and was replaced by a certain Fabianus, a man who was much more zealous in carrying out the persecutions mandated by Diocletian against Christians than Chromatius had been. This Fabianus soon laid hold of Marcus and Marcellianus, tortured them, and put them to death. Soon after, he denounced Sebastian to Diocletian as well. 

Given that Fabianus was, supposedly, the Prefect of Rome, it is reasonable to conjecture that the denunciation of Sebastian likely took place in AD 303 when Diocletian was in Rome for the celebration of his Vicennalia or 20th anniversary of his reign. This event was meant to be a great, two month long, triumphal festival commemorating the happy and prosperous reign of Diocletian and Maximian. There is evidence, however, that the event became tragic. The Chronography of AD 354 reports that during the event, 13,000 people were killed when the boxes at the circus collapsed. It is also possible that Pope Marcellinus was martyred during this time.  

Writing in On the Deaths of the Persecutors, Lactantius claimed that Diocletian was so perturbed during the celebrations at Rome that he departed the city prematurely before his consulship could even begin on January 1. He would subsequently become gravely ill on his journey back to Nicomedia.

Let us assume that the unhappy vicennalia celebration at Rome is the setting for the scene described below in Aelfric’s homily as the dramatic conclusion of St. Sebastian's Passio:

Then became Diocletian fiendishly angry, and commanded him to be led out in hard bonds, into a field, and there to be bound, and assailed with arrows until he gave up his life. Then the soldiers led away the servant of Christ, and set him for a mark, even as the wicked man commanded, and fastened their arrows into him before and behind, as thickly on every side as a hedgehog's bristles, and so left him alone, lying for dead.

Then came a certain widow, who was a martyr's relict, in the same night, where he lay sorely wounded, desiring to bury his body, and found him living. Then she brought him to her house alive, and within a few days entirely healed him. Then came the Christians, and urged the [Christian] warrior, that he ought to depart far away from the city.

But Sebastian commended himself to God, and went up to the staircase, which stood against the emperor's palace, and when the emperor came, thus cried to him:

“Your idol-priests who dwell in your temples tell you many lies concerning the Christians, saying that they are verily adversaries to your kingdom, and also to your people; but your kingdom prospereth through their good merits, because they pray for the Roman people and for your dominion, without ceasing.”

Then looked Diocletian, the fiendish murderer, towards the holy man, who stood there so loftily, and said haughtily, “Art not thou that Sebastian, whom I before commanded to be slain with arrows?

Sebastian said, “Christ raised me up again to the end that I might declare to thee before all the people your unrighteous persecution against the Christians.”

Then bade the emperor that the soldier of God should be beaten to death with clubs within his own city. Then the murderers did even as the emperor commanded, and by night hid his holy corpse in a foul sewer, saying amongst themselves, that at least the Christians should not get at his body, and make him into a martyr afterwards.

The most ancient extant image
of St. Sebastian, dating from the
mid-6th century AD, may be found in
Sant'Apollinare Nuovo in Ravenna. 

Here again, we see a common theme—the desire of the persecutors to deny the martyr's body to the Christian community. 

But the Christians did find Sebastian’s remains. They were recovered by a widow named Lucina who claimed to have been visited by Sebastian in a dream. 

The relics of St. Sebastian would then take on a life of their own, being first deposited in the catacombs at Rome. A basilica would be built over the site in the mid-4th century AD—San Sebastiano fuori le Mura—which would become on one of the seven pilgrim churches of Rome. 

Some of his relics would eventually find their way to Soissons in France in the early 9th century where they would remain until they were plundered and thrown into a ditch by Calvinists in 1564.

It is said that a relic of the top of Sebastian’s cranium may be seen to this day in the church of St. Sebastian in Ebersberg, Bavaria.

A good summary of the remaining relics and their locations may be found in St. Sebastian's entry in Butler's Lives of the Saints. 

“What wonder that the whole world was prey to disturbance and confusion?” – Fulcher of Chartres on the relationship between dysfunction in the Holy See and disasters in the world

Scene from the Apocalypse from an illuminated manuscript, ca. AD 1430.

If the world is a complete disastrous mess, blame the Catholic Church. 

Throughout history, this aphorism has popped up with some frequency and in various forms. And while this condemnation has frequently been issued by those of an anti-Papist stripe, it has just as often been uttered by devout Catholics themselves, even saints and popes. How is this possible, you ask? Well, let’s check in with Fulcher of Chartres who in AD 1105 penned the quote that may be seen in the image at the beginning of this post:

“What wonder that the whole world was a prey to disturbance and confusion? For when the Roman Church, which is the source of correction for all Christianity, is troubled by any disorder, the sorrow is communicated from the nerves of the head to the members subject to it, and these suffer sympathetically."

Fulcher was a French priest who took up the cross of the First Crusade in the late 11th century AD. He would later become the chaplain of Baldwin of Boulogne, who would later become the first King of Jerusalem. Fulcher is best known to history for his work, The Deeds of the Franks and the Expedition to Jerusalem, a first-hand chronicle of the great events of his age. Having apparently witnessed everything from the Council of Clermont where the Frankish knights first cried, “Deus vult!” to the re-conquest of Jerusalem and events beyond, Fulcher’s work is among the most valuable accounts of the early crusading era. 

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Let's dip into that work and look at the context of the above quote. All of the quotes from Fulcher in this post are taken from August Krey's excellent compilation, The First Crusade: The Accounts of Eye-Witnesses and Participants. 

Near the beginning of his work, Fulcher records the situation in Europe prior to the Crusade, and in particular notes the chaotic situation of the Holy See which was beset by an anti-pope who was the darling of great political powers, particularly Henry IV, Emperor of Germany. Fulcher writes: 

But the devil, who always desires man’s destruction and goes about like a raging lion seeking whom he may devour, stirred up to the confusion of the people a certain rival to [Pope] Urban [II], Wibert, by name. Incited by the stimulus of pride and supported by the shamelessness of the aforesaid Emperor of the Bavarians, Wibert attempted to usurp the papal office while Urban’s predecessor, Gregory, that is Hildebrand, was the legitimate Pope; and he thus caused Gregory himself to be cast out of St. Peter’s. So the better people refused to recognize him because he acted thus perversely. 

Wibert would be known to history as anti-pope Clement III. Fulcher continues: 

After the death of Hildebrand, Urban, lawfully elected, was consecrated by the cardinal bishops, and the greater and holier part of the people submitted in obedience to him. Wibert, however, urged on by the support of the aforesaid Emperor and by the instigation of the Roman citizens, for some time kept Urban a stranger to the Church of St. Peter; but Urban, although he was banished from the Church, went about through the country, reconciling to God the people who had gone somewhat astray. Wibert, however, puffed up by the primacy of the Church, showed himself indulgent to sinners, and exercising the office of pope, although unjustly, amongst his adherents, he denounced as ridiculous the acts of Urban. 

But in the year in which the Franks first passed through Rome on their way to Jerusalem, Urban obtained the complete papal power everywhere, with the help of a certain most noble matron, Matilda, by name, who then had great influence in the Roman state. Wibert was then in Germany. So there were two Popes; and many did not know which to obey, or from which counsel should be taken, or who should remedy the ills of Christianity. Some favored the one; some the other. But it was clear to the intelligence of men that Urban was the better, for he is rightly considered better who controls his passions, just as if they were enemies. Wibert was Archbishop of the city of Ravenna. He was very rich and reveled in honor and wealth. It was a wonder that such riches did not satisfy him. Ought he to be considered by all an exemplar of right living who, himself a lover of pomp, boldly assumes to usurp the scepter of Almighty God? Truly, this office must not be seized by force, but accepted with fear and humility.

Fulcher is by no means the first to condemn the intrusion of worldly politics into the nomination and election of popes. Recall that Hermias Sozomen, writing in the mid-5th century AD, offers a similar viewpoint when discussing the deposition of Pope Liberius by the Emperor Constantius II, the subsequent election of Pope Felix II, the return of Liberius creating a situation where there were two Popes in Rome. Sozomen denounced this occasion and mentions that having two men occupy the seat of St. Peter is a sign of discord and is foreign to ecclesiastical law.

Similarly, when Vigillius participated in the unlawful political deposition of Pope St. Silverius in AD 536 and was later elected Pope while Silverius still lived in exile, his reign quickly descended into discord. War, natural disasters, famine, and death on an unimaginable scale due to plague followed all throughout his miserable reign. When he was later seized by agents of the Empress Theodora and put on a ship to Constantinople, the Liber Pontificalis claims that the Roman people threw rocks at the ship in which he was imprisoned, shouting: “Your hunger go with you! Your pestilence go with you! You have done evil to the Romans; may you find evil where you go!” And it did. Vigilius would spend over a decade in Constantinople as a veritable prisoner under intense pressure from the imperial court to alter Church doctrine. Finally, he would acknowledge: “I am receiving the reward for my deeds.”

Getting back to Fulcher, we next see how he connects disorder in the Church at Rome to catastrophic disorders within Christendom and indeed, the world at large, beginning with our quote from above:

What wonder that the whole world was a prey to disturbance and confusion? For when the Roman Church, which is the source of correction for all Christianity, is troubled by any disorder, the sorrow is communicated from the nerves of the head to the members subject to it, and these suffer sympathetically. This Church, indeed, our mother, as it were, at whose bosom we were nourished, by whose doctrine we were instructed and strengthened, by whose counsel we were admonished, was by this proud Wibert greatly afflicted. For when the head is thus struck, the members at once are sick. If the head be sick, the other members suffer. Since the head was thus sick, pain was engendered in the enfeebled members; for in all parts of Europe peace, goodness, faith, were boldly trampled under foot, within the church and without, by the high, as well as by the low. It was necessary both that an end be put to these evils, and that, in accordance with the plan suggested by Pope Urban, they turn against the pagans the strength formerly used in prosecuting battles among themselves....

Fulcher then commences his account of Urban II’s address at the Council of Clermont and the vast Crusading movement he inspired. This effort lasted nearly four centuries, and was still inspiring men of action even into the late 15th century.

By the time the Crusading effort completely petered out in the 16th century, the Church was rent by the rebellion of Protestantism and threatened by the scourge of resurgent Islam which, by this time, had annihilated the Eastern Empire forever and positioned armed forces at the very doorstep of divided Christendom. In frustration, a saintly pope of this time reportedly echoed Fulcher, saying: “All the evils of the world are due to lukewarm Catholics.” He was fortunate enough to find enough men whose faith still burned hot, and inspire the Holy League which beat back the Islamic menace decisively at Lepanto in AD 1571,

It is perhaps apt to consider such things when reflecting upon the wretched state of the Church and the world in our own times. 

"That the nation, seeing that their temples are not destroyed, may remove error from their hearts." ~ St. Gregory the Great's letter to St. Mellitus on reconsecrating pagan temples as Christian churches, AD 601

Saint Mellitus refuses communion to the sons of Sabert, king of the East Saxons.
Etching by Hubert François Bourguignon Gravelot, 1743.

There are two facile and credulously accepted claims that make the rounds of Late Roman-interest online fora and social media with some frequency. They are roughly as follows:

“Christianity sought to destroy the art, architecture and culture of classical civilization.”

and 

“Modern Christian holidays are nothing more than ancient pagan holidays with a Christian overlay.”

Both of these declarations are treated uncritically as fact by those who use the outmoded Gibbon as their sole guide to Late Antiquity. The second is also used by those of a Protestant persuasion who wish to prove that Catholicism (and Orthodoxy to a lesser extent) are little better than warmed-over paganism.

Context has been added to the first statement on numerous occasions on this blog, including here, here, and here. The second has been dealt with as well, here and here.

Interestingly, there is a 1,400 year-old letter from Pope Saint Gregory the Great that addresses both of these claims rather directly. Recalling this letter to the attention of our readers is also especially fitting for this season of Thanksgiving in the United States as St. Gregory specifically calls out in his letter one of the reasons for the institution of feasts as to “return thanks to the Giver of all things”.

The letter was recorded by Saint Bede the Venerable as part of his great work, the Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, which was written shortly before Bede’s death ca. AD 735. By that time, Gregory's letter was over a century old. It was addressed to the abbot Mellitus (later, Saint Mellitus), a missionary who would go on to become the bishop of London and archbishop of Canterbury. In the letter, Gregory offers advice to Mellitus, then still in France, about how to conduct himself as a missionary among the heathen barbarians who ruled over formerly Christian Britain. 

Here is the letter in full, with some comments interspersed:

Chapter XXX: A Copy of the Letter Which Pope Gregory Sent to the Abbot Mellitus, then going into Britain

The aforesaid messengers being departed, the holy father, Gregory, sent after them letters worthy to be preserved in memory, wherein he plainly shows what care he took of the salvation of our nation. The letter was as follows:

To his most beloved son, the Abbot Mellitus; Gregory the servant of the servants of God. 

We have been much concerned since the departure of our congregation that is with you, because we have received no account of the success of your journey. When, therefore, Almighty God shall bring you to the most reverend man our brother bishop, St Augustine, tell him what I have, upon mature deliberation on the affair of the English, determined upon, viz. that the temples of the idols in that nation ought not to be destroyed. Let holy water be made, and sprinkled in the said temples; let altars be erected, and let relics be deposited in them. For if those temples are well built, it is requisite that they be converted from the worship of the devils to the service of the true God; that the nation, seeing that their temples are not destroyed, may remove error from their hearts, and knowing and adoring the true God, may the more familiarly resort to the same places to which they have been accustomed. 

Here we see Gregory advising Mellitus to preserve and reconsecrate pagan temples as Christian churches. To anyone familiar with late Roman history, this advice should come as no great surprise. While certainly a few celebrated examples exist of Christian populations actively tearing down their local pagan temples, examples of pagan temples converted into Christian churches abound, including the Pantheon in Rome which, under Gregory’s successor Pope Boniface IV, became the Church of Saint Mary and the Martyrs. Another famous example was the Parthenon at Athens, which became the Church of Maria Parthenos in the late 6th century AD. A scholarly article written in 2017 by Dutch classicist Feyo Schuddeboom goes into considerable detail about the pagan temples in the city of Rome that were reconsecrated as churches, counting eleven examples. The list may be found in this excellent article by Sarah Bond that appeared in Forbes: Were Pagan Temples All Smashed Or Just Converted Into Christian Ones?

The trend among contemporary scholars seems to view the shift from paganism to Christianity in Late Antiquity as less an abrupt and violent clash of cultures and more a gradual transition that involved, as the Apostle Paul would famously recommend,  “the proving of all things, holding fast that which is good, but refraining from all appearances of evil.” [1 Thessalonians 5:21]. Gregory’s letter, though written regarding the pagan temples in Britain rather than Rome, supports that thesis.

The second section of Gregory’s letter deals with the replacement of pagan feasts with those particular to Christianity: 

And because they have been used to slaughter many oxen to devils, some solemnity must be exchanged for them on this account, as that on the day of the dedication, or the nativities of the holy martyrs, whose relics are deposited, they may build themselves huts of the boughs of trees, about those churches which have been turned to that use from temples, and celebrate the solemnity with religious feasting, and no more offer feasts to the Devil, but kill cattle to the praise of God in their eating, and return thanks to the Giver of all things for their sustenance, to the end that, whilst some gratifications are outwardly permitted them, they may the more easily consent to the inward consolations of God. For there is no doubt that it is impossible to efface every thing at once from their obdurate minds; because he who endeavors to ascend to the highest place, rises by degrees or steps, and not by leaps.

Thus the Lord made himself known to the people of Israel in Egypt; and yet he allowed them the use of the sacrifices which they were wont to offer to the Devil, in his own worship; so as to command them in his sacrifice to kill beasts, to the end that, changing their hearts, they might lay aside one part of the sacrifice, whilst they retained another; that whilst they offered the same beasts which they were wont to offer, they should offer them to God, and not to idols; and thus they would no longer be the same sacrifices. 

This it behooves your affection to communicate to our aforesaid brother, that he being there present, may consider how he is to order all things. God preserve you in safety, most beloved son.

Given the 17th of June, in the nineteenth year of the reign of our lord, the most pious emperor, Mauritius Tiberius, the eighteenth year after the consulship of our said lord. The fourth indiction. (AD 601).

Taken from Giles: The Complete Works of Venerable Bede, Vol. II, The Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, Book I, Chapter XXX, page 141

Note that Gregory is not calling for Mellitus to take pagan festivals and simply rename them as Christian feasts. Rather, he is suggesting that new feasts be instituted on the date of a particular martyr’s birth or death, or the date upon which a church is consecrated. Numerous such feast days may be found in ancient Catholic martyrologies and missals, including dates for remembering revered local saints as well as those celebrated by the universal Church. Again, Gregory is following the advice of St. Paul – pagan festal practices which are neutral and universal, such as holding banquets, decorating, and celebration may be incorporated into Christian holy days. Those practices, however, which are specific to pagan superstitions such as idol-worship, astrology, gluttony, sinful revels, and the like, must be done away with.

It is interesting to note that the same approach was used by the Jesuits of the 17th century when evangelizing the native tribes of America in New France. I outlined some of the pagan practices which the Jesuit missionaries considered incompatible with Christianity in a previous post—When the Jesuits were Catholic. That post also includes an insightful quote drawn from St. Jean Brebeuf’s speech to the elders of the Huron nation which distinguishes those neutral customs and practices of all nations from those which concern superstitious beliefs:

“As for our ways of doing things, [Fr. Brebeuf] said that it was quite true they were altogether different from theirs—that we had this in common with all nations; that, in fact, there were as many different customs as there were different peoples upon the earth; that the manner of living, of dressing, and of building houses was entirely different in France from what it was here, and in other countries of the world, and that this was not what we found wrong. But, as to what concerned God, all nations ought to have the same sentiments; that the reality of a God was one, and so clear that it was only necessary to open the eyes to see it written in large characters upon the faces of all creatures.” 

Echoes of St. Gregory’s advice may be discerned in this statement, and in the Jesuits' mode of evangelizing the tribes of New France.

It’s worth mentioning as a final word that things fell out poorly for St. Mellitus and the pagans of London. Bede records in his History that King Sabert of the East Saxons was baptized by Mellitus and permitted a bishopric to be set up in London. Upon Sabert’s death in AD 616, however, his three sons looked with scorn upon Mellitus and returned to paganism. The dramatic confrontation between Mellitus and the sons of Sabert, as depicted in the etching at the top of this post, is described by Bede as follows:

This confusion was increased by the death of Sabert, king of the East-Saxons, who departing to the heavenly kingdom, left three sons, still pagans, to inherit his temporal crown. They immediately began to profess idolatry, which, during their father's reign, they had seemed a little to abandon, and they granted free liberty to the people under their government to serve idols. And when they saw the bishop, whilst celebrating mass in the church, give the eucharist to the people, they, puffed up with barbarous folly, were wont, as it is reported, to say to him, "Why do you not give us also that white bread, which you used to give to our father Saba (for so they used to call him), and which you still continue to give to the people in the church?" 

To whom he answered, "If you will be washed in that laver of salvation, in which your father was washed, you may also partake of the holy bread of which he partook; but if you despise the laver of life, you may not receive the bread of life."  

They replied, "We will not enter into that laver, because we do not know that we stand in need of it, and yet we will eat of that bread."

And being often earnestly admonished by him, that the same could not be done, nor any one admitted to partake of the sacred oblation without the holy cleansing, at last, they said in anger, "If you will not comply with us in so small a matter as that is which we require, you shall not stay in our province." And accordingly they obliged him and his followers to depart from their kingdom.

Taken from Giles: The Complete Works of Venerable Bede, Vol. II, The Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, Book I, Chapter XXX, page 191

Mellitus then removed from London first to Kent and later back to France to await events. He would not return to London, but would eventually succeed St. Laurentius as archbishop of Canterbury in AD 619. 

Meanwhile, the sons of Sabert would come to a bad end, defeated and slain by the Gewissae (or West Saxons) in AD 620.