Showing posts with label Saint Germanus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Saint Germanus. Show all posts

Thursday, October 26, 2017

Pelagianism: A Greater Threat to Christianity Than Pagans

By Kim Rendfeld


In 429, Germanus of Auxerre and another bishop got on a ship bound for Britain. Germanus did not speak the local language, but he wasn’t planning to speak to common folk. He needed to convince aristocrats who spoke Latin to reject something more dangerous than paganism: heresy.

This heresy was called Pelagianism, after the British-born monk Pelagius. His teachings had taken hold in his native lands and reached all the way to Africa. A lot of his writing no longer exists. So what exactly he believed and was preaching is a best guess.

Pelagius lived from the mid-fourth century until about 418. We don’t know much about his life. Even where he was born is hazy. He might have been British, Scottish, or Irish. He was described as tall and corpulent. But he practiced an ascetic lifestyle—one that requires fasting and other self-denial—which makes it hard to believe he was fat. He was well educated, and that made him more of a threat.

Apparently, Pelagius rejected original sin—that Adam’s sin tainted all of humanity, even newborns, and baptism alone could remove that stain on the soul. Pelagius also argued that people were born with a desire to be good and they had the strength of will, bolstered by asceticism, to redeem themselves rather than rely on divine grace.

17th-century Calvinist print


To the early medieval Church leaders, these ideas were more Stoic than Christian, and they posed a greater threat to the faith than the paganism they equated with devil worship. Priests could proclaim pagan gods to be false and chop down sacred trees to prove it (as Germanus’s predecessor Amator did). They could easily call a pagan an enemy. They often put up with vestiges of paganism among the faithful. If someone wore an amulet, a priest tended to look the other way. Heck, he might even employ an expert to interpret his dreams, although it went against Church law.

An eloquent monk who could quote Scripture and follow an austere lifestyle was a harder case, especially if he had supporters among the nobility. He could argue with Church officials on their own terms. But with core beliefs like original sin and divine grace, there was no room for compromise. For the Church to hold power, it have needed to be unified—with one set of beliefs and one hierarchy. Otherwise, the Church would splinter. Heresy was a threat from within, and it could not be tolerated. In 380, it became punishable by death.

Pelagius lived in Rome for many years without a problem. When Alaric destroyed the city in 410, Pelagius fled to Africa and was opposed by Church leaders, including Augustine, bishop of Hippo (354-430).
6th century fresco, Lateran, Rome


In 417, Augustine participated in one of two synods in Africa that rejected the monk’s ideas. Pope Innocent I sided with the bishops and excluded Pelagius and one of his followers from Communion unless they renounced their ideas. Pelagius appealed. In the meantime, Innocent died and was succeeded by Zosimus, who ordered another investigation. The Council of Carthage in 418 again determined Pelagianism was heresy. This time Emperor Honorius got involved and exiled Pelagius’s followers in Italy. Pelagius disappears from history. No longer young, he might have died about this time.

At this point, Britain had been cut off from the Roman Empire for several years, and religious beliefs there were fluid. A Christian asked a Celtic goddess to avenge the loss of his coins, a week’s worth of wages. With this isolation, Pelagianism could flourish, and so it did. It had support from the wealthy and educated. Its adherents includes Celtic Bishop Fastidius and Agricola, a monk who was the son of a British bishop.

A synod in 429 sent Germanus and another bishop to Britain to stamp out the heresy. It might seem strange to send clergy who couldn’t speak the local language, but Germanus’s target audience could understand Latin. Like Pelagius, Germanus followed an austere lifestyle. If we are to believe his hagiography by Constantius, he had one meal in the evening, and he ate a mouthful of ash followed by barley bread made with flour he ground himself. He wore a hair-shirt underneath his tunic and cloak and slept on planks with ashes in between them.

Stained glass window in Truro Cathedral, c.1907


He was high-born and educated in the liberal arts and law and was a high-ranking military official before his unwilling entry into the priesthood. He has the right combination of piety, nobility, and knowledge to take on his opponents. His hagiography paints this as a fight Germanus won easily, because he had God on his side (and it includes a few miracles, too). But considering what happened later, the Church must have known it was in for a tough fight, and it needed someone whose devotion and credibility were beyond question. Still Germanus believed the heresy was squelched, and he returned home.

Funny thing about ideas. They have a way of hanging on and even evolving. A doctrine later called Semipelagianism had emerged around 420. The argument was that faith sprang from free will. Augustine countered that planting grace in the soul was an act of God.

Pelagianism’s survival might have been the reason the pope sent an anti-Pelagian bishop, Palladius, to Ireland in 431. Apparently, the heresy had not disappeared from Britain. In 447, Germanus made a second trip with another bishop. This time, he found only a few people were spreading Pelagianism. They were exiled from Britain and brought to the Continent.

Still, Pelagianism and Semipelagianism persisted for the next century in Wales, Gaul, Ireland, and Italy. They were condemned again at the Second Synod of Orange in 529 and apparently died out.

Sort of. The very thing early medieval Church leaders feared did eventually happen. Christians disagreed over core beliefs, and factions broke away. The debate about sin and grace never did disappear.

Public domain images from Wikimedia Commons.

Sources

Daily Life in Arthurian Britain by Deborah J. Shepherd
Pelagius and Pelagianism” by Joseph Pohle, The Catholic Encyclopedia
Semipelagianism” by Joseph Pohle, The Catholic Encyclopedia
Who Was Pelagius?” 5 Minutes in Church History
Germanus,” Encyclopaedia Romana
“Pelagianism,” Encyclopaedia Romana http://penelope.uchicago.edu/~grout/encyclopaedia_romana/britannia/anglo-saxon/earlychurch/germanus.html
St. Germain” by Andrew MacErlean, The Catholic Encyclopedia
Ecclesiastical Records of England, Ireland, and Scotland, from the Fifth Century Till the Reformation: Being an Epitome of British Councils, the Legative and Provincial Constitutions, and Other Memorials of the Olden Time, with Prolegomena and Notes, Richard Hart
Antiquities of the British Churches by Edward Stillingfleet
"The Life of Saint Germanus of Auxerre," by Constantius of Lyon, translated by F.R. Hoare, Soldiers of Christ: Saints and Saints' Lives from Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages

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Kim Rendfeld’s short story “Betrothed to the Red Dragon,” about Guinevere’s decision to marry Arthur, is set in early medieval Britain and available on Amazon.

She has also written two novels set in 8th century Europe.

In The Cross and the Dragon, a Frankish noblewoman must contend with a jilted suitor and the fear of losing her husband (available on Amazon).In The Ashes of Heaven's Pillar, a Saxon peasant will fight for her children after losing everything else (available on Amazon).


Connect with Kim at on her website kimrendfeld.com, her blog, Outtakes of a Historical Novelist at kimrendfeld.wordpress.com, on Facebook at facebook.com/authorkimrendfeld, or follow her on Twitter at @kimrendfeld.



Wednesday, September 20, 2017

St. Germanus: A Reluctant Bishop

by Kim Rendfeld

Germanus would have a great influence on Christianity in 5th century Britain, but in his early life, he did not believe God called him to the priesthood.

Born around 380 in Auxerre to a noble family, Germanus was well educated in the liberal arts. He went to Rome to study law and was a brilliant lawyer. He married a high-ranking woman named Eustachia. The emperor was impressed with Germanus and eventually appoint him dux (duke to oversimplify) commanding the soldiers in the province with his hometown.

Back in Auxerre, Germanus was a faithful husband and a capable administrator who acted with integrity. But he had not learned humility and prayer, and he still liked worldly things. Too much.

One particular vice irritated Saint Amator, then bishop of Auxerre. Like many men of his era, Germanus loved to hunt. The problem for the bishop was how Germanus showed off his prowess. The duke hung the heads of his kills on a tree in the middle of the city, an action that strongly resembled an offering to a pagan god. I suspect Germanus had seen this ritual since he was child and might have not seen the religious contradiction. This was not the first time a pagan ritual lingered long after the population had accepted baptism.

But Christianity had been mainstream for only a few decades, after the Roman emperor had accepted baptism shortly before his death in 337. Amator might have feared a Germanus’s actions encouraged a false religion and endangered the souls he was trying to save. The bishop tried to persuade Germanus to stop.

Germanus refused. Alban Butler’s 1799 book attributes it to vanity, and Germanus likely was proud. He was high born and privileged, after all. But his first priority as duke was keeping order. He might have seen respecting a pagan ritual as a way to keep the peace.

One day while Germanus was away, Amator had the tree chopped down—a practice emulated by missionaries centuries later.

This engraving by Bernhard Rode depicts
St. Boniface, but you get the idea
(public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

We don’t know how the populace responded, but Germanus was furious. Amator fled to Autun. There, Amator had a revelation: God wanted Germanus to be the bishop’s successor. Incredibly, Amator greeted the news with joy. His faith in God’s judgment must have been quite strong.

Amator secretly asked the prefect, Julius, if he could tonsure Germanus and thus release the duke from his office. Julius consented.

Amator returned to Auxerre. When Germanus entered the church, Amator had the doors barred gave him the clerical haircut, whether Germanus wanted it or not. Amator named Germanus a deacon and the successor to the bishopric.

A dramatic story, but is it true? Maybe part of it. A hagiography written by Constantius about 30 years after Germanus’s death provides a different account. Constantius makes no mention of the hunting or the tree full of trophies or the threat against Amator. Instead, the people—aristocrats, clergy, and commoners—demanded Germanus serve as their bishop. They must have been impressed with his abilities as an administrator and his moral character. Constantius describes Germanus’s entry into the priesthood as “under compulsion, as a conscript.”

Regardless of how Germanus became a priest, he was pushed, or rather shoved, into the clergy. Remarkably, he dared not protest. He believed his forced ordination was God’s will and feared opposing it.

His life changed, including his relationship with his wife, Eustachia. A married man could be ordained into the priesthood. In fact, the wife’s good conduct might play a role, and she was often given a title to reflect her status. However, husband and wife were supposed to live as brother and sister. Germanus and Eustachia complied (and were one of the few couples that did). My guess is that she became a bishopress.

Neither Butler nor Constantius say how Eustachia or her noble family reacted to Germanus’s ordination. Butler describes her as “a lady of great quality”; Constantius says her “birth, wealth, and character were all of the highest.” And that’s it.

We might find a clue in an omission: neither author mentions children by the couple. If Germanus and Eustachia were childless, might they have taken that as a sign of God’s intentions for them? It is possible Eustachia supported her husband’s ordination for reasons besides faith. As a bishopress, she did not need a son for her high-ranking position to be secure.

Photo by GFreihalter (CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

For his part, Germanus gave his possessions to the poor and embraced an austere lifestyle. If we are to believe Constantius, he had one meal in the evening and he first took a mouthful of ash, then ate barley bread with flour he ground himself—the humblest of foods. He rejected oil, salt, vinegar, pulses, wheaten bread, and wine (except a diluted drink on Christmas Day and Easter). He wore a hair-shirt underneath his tunic and cloak. He had a leather strap around his neck with a box of relics (relics could be as tiny as a pebble from a saint’s tomb). He slept on planks with ashes in between them and did not use a pillow.

The combination of piety, nobility, and knowledge made Germanus the best spiritual warrior the Church could send to Britain in 429 to squelch the Pelagian heresy, which rejected original sin and argued for redemption through strength of will rather than divine grace. (If we are to believe Nennius’s 9th century account, Germanus also played a key role in Vortigern’s downfall, but Nennius seems to be the type to not let facts get in the way of his story.)

To the Church, the Pelagian heresy was more dangerous than paganism. It was a threat from within, and if left unchecked, might splinter the institution into factions. Church officials could not tolerate heresy, and they knew they were in for a tough fight. We’ll have more on that battle next month.

Sources

“The Life of Saint Germanus of Auxerre,” by Constantius of Lyon, translated by F.R. Hoare,
Soldiers of Christ: Saints and Saints' Lives from Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, by Thomas F.X. Noble, Thomas Head

The Lives of the Primitive Fathers, Martyrs, and Other Principal Saints: Compiled from Original Monuments and Other Authentic Records, Volume 7, Alban Butler

The Text of 'Nennius': Historia Brittonum, chapters 31-49, 66, Vortigern Studies

"St. Germain,"by Andrew MacErlean, The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 6

Germanus

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Kim Rendfeld’s work in progress—“Betrothed to the Red Dragon,” a short story about Guinevere’s decision to marry Arthur—is set in early medieval Britain. If you’d like to get an email when it’s published, email Kim at kim [at] kimrendfeld [dot] com.

If you want read what Kim has already written, check out her two novels set in 8th century Europe.

Kim's first novel, The Cross and the Dragon, in which a Frankish noblewoman must contend with a jilted suitor and the fear of losing her husband, is available at AmazonKoboiTunesBarnes & NobleSmashwordsCreateSpace, and other vendors.You can order The Ashes of Heaven's Pillar, about a Saxon peasant who will fight for her children after losing everything else, at AmazonKoboBarnes & Noble, and iTunes.

Connect with Kim at on her website kimrendfeld.com, her blog, Outtakes of a Historical Novelist at kimrendfeld.wordpress.com, on Facebook at facebook.com/authorkimrendfeld, or follow her on Twitter at @kimrendfeld.