Genevieve Kilburn-Smith from Calgary, Canada
What is the most underrated event of the past,
and why is it so much more significant than people understand?
When the Gregorian Reform
was launched at the dawn of the second millennium, the papacy’s agenda was
unequivocal. In an effort to centralise power and re-establish authority, a
succession of popes both before and after Gregory VII (d. 1085), the reform’s namesake,
introduced changes designed to free the Church from lay control. Secular rulers
were stripped of their sacerdotal functions and clerics came to be the sole
representatives of the Church, rather than the laity, as simony, investiture,
and nicolaitism (i.e., clerical marriage) came under attack. The most
far-reaching and long-lasting repercussions of these reforms, however, yet the
most overlooked by historians, was the social upheaval caused by enforced
clerical celibacy and its particularly devastating effect on women. The
relentless onslaughts on clerical marriage instigated a social revolution that
spanned the European continent, provoking riots for centuries, and, most
perniciously, demonising half the world’s population as the reformers campaigned
against women in order to make marriage less appealing. Misogyny has been woven
so deeply into history that its nuanced causes and effects at any given time
can be difficult to discern. But an analysis of the rhetoric used by reformers
to vilify clerical wives and women in general can trace the revitalised
hostility towards women beginning in the High Middle Ages to these reforms.
For the first thousand years
of Christianity, clerical marriage was common practice. Despite various church
councils promulgating the ideal of celibacy, beginning with the Synod of Elvira
in the fourth century which declared that all clerics were to “abstain from
conjugal relations with their wives”[1],
deacons, priests, bishops, and even popes continued to marry and have children.
The frequent repetition at subsequent councils of the need for celibacy evinces
the lack of obedience to these decrees. Celibacy had not yet been declared
superior to marriage and so married priests retained at least as many
supporters as there were for celibate ones. Indeed, even celibacy advocates
believed that a married priest should continue to care for his wife - but live
with her like a sister - because ordination could not dissolve marriage.[2]
Priests’ wives enjoyed a respectable social status as clerical marriage was a
recognised social institution. Furthermore, women were given the final say as
to whether or not their husbands could be ordained.[3]
This interaction between male clergy and women encouraged healthy gender
relations compared to the polarisation that occurred in later centuries, as
shall be seen. In 829, the Reform Synod of Paris complained that “in some
provinces it happens that women press around the altar, touch the holy vessels,
hand the clerics the priestly vestments, indeed even dispense the body and
blood of the Lord to the people.”[4]
It was around this time that clerics’ wives were entitled deaconess, priestess,
and bishopess. Although the dismay is unmissable, the Synod’s account attests
to the greater role women in the early medieval period played in religious
spheres.
This all changed when the
Gregorian Reform began. As the Church sought to sever ties with the laity and gain
hierarchical control over its clergy, women became the greatest obstacle to
reform since clerical marriage bridged the gap between ordained clerks and
laypeople. Gregory VII’s aims involved “sundering the commerce between the
clergy and women through an eternal anathema”[5]
and in the end, women bore the brunt of it. The revived defamation of women
began as the reform clergy’s propaganda fixated on female sexuality. Peter
Damian set a high standard for the misogynistic slander that characterised their
campaign against women:
I
speak to you, O charmers of the clergy, appetising flesh of the devil, that
castaway from Paradise, poison of minds, death of souls, companions of the very
stuff of sin, the cause of our ruin… come now, hear me harlots, prostitutes,
with your lascivious kisses, you wallowing places for fat pigs, couches for
unclean spirits…[6]
The idea that women are
“unclean” and, as such, impediments to righteousness lies at the heart of the
Church’s denigration of women and has roots stretching back to ancient times. Soon
after the Gregorian Reform began, the works of Aristotle returned to dominant
thought and gave reformers fresh insight into the subordination of women. Aristotelian
biology was met with unqualified acceptance by Church thinkers who had been
surmising the inferiority of women since Gregory VII and his cohorts started
their campaign against women. Aristotle’s hierarchy placed women beneath men as
their faulty and unequal counterparts. Marriage was put forward as inferior to
male communities of academia and monasticism as well as being the relationship
of two unequal partners. As the years passed, generations of clergymen were
brought up in an environment of not only contempt for women but fear of them
and their sexuality as well.
Practical tactics
accompanied the verbal slander. In 1089, princes were allowed to enslave the
wives of clerics and a few years later, the Count of Flanders was given permission
to imprison them.[7]
In 1108, Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, enabled bishops to seize the wives
of priests as their property.[8]
And as early as 1022, the wives of Hamburg canons were forced to leave their town.[9]
The greatest blow, however, came in 1139 at the Second Lateran Council when, for
the first time, marriage was not only forbidden but declared mutually exclusive
to ordination. The sanctity of marriage completely disregarded, priestly
marriages were now void and women who had been legal wives turned into
concubines overnight.
Despite the “historical
amnesia”, as Mary T. Malone says, “about the very vocal opposition to mandatory
celibacy,”[10]
there is overwhelming evidence of resistance to these reforms. The Anonymous of
York, writing around 1100, provided outspoken support for married priests as
well as the rights of their children to be legitimate. Even earlier, Lambert of
Hersfield ridiculed the papacy’s attempts to make priests live like angels and
asserted that the clergy would rather give up their offices than their wives.
He advised the pope to summon angels from heaven instead to take their places.[11]
When emissaries across Europe were charged with the task of enforcing the celibacy
decrees, they were met with an irate, and often violent, audience. The Bishop
of Paris had to seek royal protection from the incensed clerics after he was
driven out of a church “with jeers and blows”, the indignant clergy of Rouen
assailed their Archbishop with stones when he tried to make them give up their
wives, and Gregory VII reported that the infuriated Cambrai clergy had burnt a
celibacy proponent alive.[12]
Fearing for their lives, some bishops in Northern Italy refused to issue
celibacy decrees.[13]
Even after priestly marriage was nullified, clerks clung to the comforts of partnership
for centuries. As late as 1542, Albrecht of Brandenburg lamented: “I know that
all my priests are living in concubinage, but what should I do? If I forbid
them, they either want to have wives or become Lutherans.”[14]
After their attempts to enslave the concubines of priests, the reform clergy sought
to get them excommunicated, forbidden church entry, and denied a church burial.
Clerical wives were not the
only victims, however. Eventually all women were demonised for their sexuality,
even celibate nuns. Prior to the reforms, women religious enjoyed a relative
equality with monks. Double monasteries of men and women were frequently led by
abbesses who were some of the most powerful women of the period. Convents enabled
women to have authority over men, engage in magisterium
vocis (public preaching), become familiar with scripture and the classics,
and even hear confession, with no indication that witnesses like Bede viewed it
as abnormal.[15]
As more monks were ordained and came under greater influence of the papacy, however,
they were further removed from the laity and wanted less and less to do with
their female counterparts. As one abbot wrote:
We
and our whole community of canons, recognizing that the wickedness of women is
greater than all the other wickedness of the world… have unanimously decreed
for the safety of our souls, no less than that of our bodies and goods, that we
will on no account receive any more sisters to the increase of our perdition,
but will avoid them like poisonous animals.[16]
Monks, priests, and bishops,
who now saw women as opponents to the holy, took away their autonomy as women’s
orders fell under their supervision. Moving into the High Middle Ages, convents
were no longer centres of education and activity but provided a cloistered and
contemplative life for women. Even Hildegard of Bingen, the great German
mystic, had to engage in a “rhetoric of diminishment” to downplay her sex by
emphasising that her accomplishments came solely from visions.[17]
The powerful abbesses of the early Middle Ages were now obsolescent.
The shift in attitude
towards women is most telling in literature. Christopher Brooke describes a poetic
genre in the twelfth century that debated whether or not the clerk was a better
lover than the knight; the victor was usually the clerk since they were the
ones composing the poems.[18]
A couple centuries later, Chaucer reveals the changing attitudes of the clergy.
Rather than wooing women, clerics spent their time defaming them as the
frustrated Wife of Bath describes:
For take my word for it, there is no libel
On women that the clergy will not paint, Except when writing of a woman-saint, But never good of other women, though. Who called the lion savage? Do you know? By God, if women had but written stories Like those the clergy keep in oratories, More had been written of man’s wickedness Than all the sons of Adam could redress. [19]
Clerical
animosity towards women became even more pronounced during the witch craze. “It
was a short step from the idea that female sexuality was dangerous and an
instrument of the devil to the idea that female sexuality itself could be a
demonic power” as Karen Torjensen says.[20]
It is hardly a coincidence that the authors of Malleus Maleficarum (The Hammer of Witches) were clergymen. James
Sprenger and Henry Kramer authored the witch-hunting manual at the end of the
15th century as they sought to prove that women were sleeping with
the Devil.[21]
Witchcraft was said to originate with carnal lust; the besmirching of female
sexuality in the centuries leading up to the witch craze thus made women prime
targets. When Pope Innocent VIII issued “The Witches’ Bull” they barely stood a
chance and hundreds of thousands of women were accused of witchcraft and burnt
at the stake.
Misogyny
is too widespread to be solely attributed to one event but the Gregorian Reform
had clear consequences for women that carry on into the present day. The
domestic tragedies that enforced clerical celibacy surely produced can only be
imagined. On top of broken homes, women lost the opportunity of living active,
learned lives in convents and once Aristotle’s ideas about marriage reemerged,
domestic life was no doubt a disappointing alternative. The significance of
these events today can be seen in the Catholic Church as the debate over
clerical celibacy remains a highly controversial topic, and the suppression of
women even more so. More broadly, there is still a fixation on female sexuality
in secular culture as well as in the church. It is sorrowful to speculate what
the last millennium might have been like if the increasing power of women in
the early Middle Ages had not been reversed. Even so, there is a wealth of
history to be discovered now that the past is open to feminist critique. The
contributions made by women to the monastic revival and early religious orders,
for example, can be fully appreciated as a female accomplishment rather than
their involvement being a reflection of women’s responses to ideals set up by
men alone. Change in one’s perception of the past is often the antecedent to
change in one’s vision for the future: a deeper understanding of misogyny, as
seen in the Middle Ages, can help identify the problems still facing women
today and encourage people to seek justice for all women in the future.
Bibliography
Brooke, Christopher N. L. Gregorian Reform in Action: Clerical Marriage in England, 1050-1200, Cambridge Historical Journal, Vol. 12, No. 1 (1956), Cambridge University Press, p. 1-21.
Brundage, James A. Law,
Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval Europe, University of Chicago Press,
2009.
Chadwick, Owen. A
History of Christianity, Orion Publishing Group, 1997.
Chaucer, Geoffrey (translated by Nevill Coghill). The Canterbury Tales, Penguin Books,
1951.
Frassetto, Michael (ed.). Medieval Purity and Piety: Essays on Medieval Clerical Celibacy and
Religious
Reform, Taylor & Francis, 1998.
Holland, Jack. A
Brief History of Misogyny: The World’s Oldest Prejudice, Robinson, 2006.
Johnson, Paul. A
History of Christianity, Penguin Books, 1990.
Malone, Mary T. Women
and Christianity: The First Thousand Years, The Columba Press, 2000.
——— Women and Christianity: From 1000 to the Reformation, Orbis Books, 2002.
McLaughlin, Eleanor C. ‘Equality of Souls, Inequality
of Sexes: Woman in Medieval Theology’.
In:
Ruether, Rosemary R. (ed.). Religion and Sexism: Images of Woman in the Jewish and Christian Traditions, Simon and Schuster, 1974, pp. 213-266.
Parish, Helen L. Clerical
Celibacy in the West, C.1100-1700, Ashgate Publishing, 2010.
Plummer, Marjorie E. From Priest's Whore to Pastor's Wife: Clerical Marriage and the Process
of Reform
in the Early German Reformation, Ashgate Publishing, 2012.
Ranke-Heinemann, Uta. Eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven, Penguin Books, 1991.
Schaus, Margaret C. Women and Gender in Medieval Europe: An Encyclopedia, Routledge,
2006.
Schleich, Kathryn. Hollywood
and Catholic Women: Virgins, Whores, Mothers, and Other Images,
iUniverse, 2012.
Stenton, Frank. Anglo-Saxon
England, Oxford University Press, 2001.
Thomas, Hugh M. The
Secular Clergy in England, 1066-1216, Oxford University Press, 2014.
Thrupp, Sylvia L. Change
in Medieval Society: Europe North of the Alps, 1050-1500, University of
Toronto Press, 1988.
Torjensen, Karen Jo. When Women Were Priests, HarperCollins, 1993.
Wiesner, Merry E. Women
and Gender in Early Modern Europe, Cambridge University Press, 2000.
[1] Eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven, Uta
Ranke-Heinemann, Penguin Books, 1991, p. 101.
[2] Gregorian Reform in Action: Clerical
Marriage in England, 1050-1200, Christopher N.L. Brooke, Cambridge
Historical Journal Vol. 12 No. 1, Cambridge University Press, 1956, p.4.
[3]
Ibid., p. 4.
[4] Eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven,
Ranke-Heinemann, p. 133.
[5]
Ibid., p. 100
[6]
Quoted in Women and Christianity: The First Thousand
Years, Mary T.
Malone, The Columba Press, 2000, p.
18.
[7]
Ibid., p. 110.
[8] The Secular Clergy in England, 1066-1216,
Hugh M. Thomas, Oxford University Press, 2014, p. 159.
[9] Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval
Europe, James A. Brundage, University of Chicago Press, 2009, p. 218.
[10] Women and Christianity: From 1000 to The Reformation, Mary T. Malone, Orbis Books, 2002,
p. 46.
[11] Clerical Celibacy in the West, C.1100-1700, Helen L. Parish, Ashgate
Publishing, 2010, p. 105.
[12] Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval
Europe, Brundage, p. 221.
[13]
Ibid.
[14] Eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven, Ranke-Heinemann,
p. 113.
[15]
‘Equality of Souls, Inequality of Sexes: Woman in Medieval Theology’, Eleanor
C. McLaughlin. In: Religion and Sexism:
Images of Woman in the Jewish and Christian Traditions, Rosemary R. Reuther
(ed.), Simon and Schuster, 1974, p. 237; A
Brief History of Misogyny: The World’s Oldest Prejudice, Jack Holland,
Robinson, 2006, p. 105; Women and Gender
in Medieval Europe: An Encyclopedia, Margaret C. Schaus, Routledge, 2006,
p. 737.
[16] Quoted in Women and Christianity: From 1000 to The Reformation, Malone, p.
54.
[17] Women and Christianity: The First Thousand
Years, Malone, p. 34.
[18] Gregorian Reform in Action, Brooke, p.
20.
[19] The Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer,
translated by Nevill Coghill, Penguin Books, 1951, p. 295.
[20] When Women Were Priests, Karen Jo
Torjesen, HarperCollins, 1993, p.228.
[21] Misogyny, Holland, p. 117
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