Scholastics

Church Reform of the Eleventh Century

In the eleventh century, Europe experienced rapid progress for the first time since the fall of the Western Empire, the effects of which were not lost for the future. This peculiar advancement had already begun during the Carolingian Renaissance, but it proved ephemeral. In the eleventh century, progress was continuous and multifaceted. It commenced with monastic reform, subsequently extended to the papacy and the ecclesiastical administration, and by the century's end, it led to the emergence of the first scholastic philosophers. The Normans expelled the Saracens from Sicily; the Hungarians, having embraced Christianity, ceased their marauding raids; the conquests of the Normans in France and England liberated these countries from further Scandinavian incursions. Architecture, which had a barbaric character (except in regions dominated by Byzantine influence), immediately acquired grandeur and elevation. The level of education significantly increased among the clergy and noticeably among the secular aristocracy.

The early stages of the reform movement were inspired solely by moral imperatives. All clergy—both regular and secular—were steeped in sin, and the zealous advocates of piety aimed to align their way of life more closely with the principles of the Church. However, behind this purely moral impetus lay another, perhaps initially unconscious but gradually becoming more apparent, motivation. This motivation was the desire to complete the separation of the clergy from the laity, thereby augmenting the clergy's power. It was thus entirely natural that the immediate outcome of the reform movement's victory within the Church should be a bitter conflict between the emperor and the pope.

Priests formed a distinct and powerful caste in Egypt, Babylon, and Persia, but not in Greece or Rome. In the early Christian Church, the distinction between clergy and laity did not arise immediately; when we read about "bishops" in the New Testament, the term carries a meaning entirely different from the one we ascribe to it today. The separation of the clergy from the rest of the populace had two aspects—doctrinal and political; the political aspect was contingent upon the doctrinal. The clergy was endowed with a certain supernatural authority, especially in connection with the sacraments, aside from baptism, which could be performed by laypeople. Without the clergy's assistance, one could not enter into marriage, receive absolution, or undergo the sacrament of the anointing of the sick. Even more significant for the medieval period was transubstantiation: only a priest could perform the miracle of the Mass. It was only in the eleventh century, in 1079, that the doctrine of transubstantiation became a dogma of faith, although it had already been widely accepted long before.

By virtue of their supernatural authority, priests could determine whether a person's eternal fate was to be spent in heaven or hell. If a person died excommunicated from the Church, they were destined for hell; however, if they died after the priest had performed all the necessary ceremonies, they would ultimately ascend to heaven, provided they had properly repented and confessed their sins. Before reaching heaven, they were required to spend a certain amount of time—perhaps quite a significant amount—in the torments of purgatory. It was within the priest's power to shorten this time by offering Masses for the repose of the deceased's soul, a service they were more than willing to provide for a suitable fee.

It is essential to recognize that both priests and laypeople sincerely and unwaveringly believed in all of this; it was not merely a faith professed out of obligation. The supernatural authority granted to the clergy repeatedly ensured their victory over powerful monarchs leading their armies. However, this power was limited by two circumstances: the wild outbursts of passions from the unruly laity and the strife within the clergy itself. The citizens of Rome, until the time of Gregory VII, exhibited very little reverence for the person of the pope. They could kidnap him, imprison him, poison him, or openly rebel against him whenever the turbulent conflicts that tore Rome apart compelled them to such actions. How could this coexist with their beliefs? Partially, it was undoubtedly due to a lack of constraints, but partly it stemmed from the conviction that one could repent for their sins on their deathbed. There was yet another reason, the influence of which was felt less in Rome than elsewhere; it lay in the fact that kings could impose their will upon the bishops in their territories, thereby securing sufficient supernatural authority to save themselves from eternal damnation. Thus, the existence of ecclesiastical discipline and a unified system of church governance constituted a necessary prerequisite for the power of the clergy. These objectives were achieved in the eleventh century as an integral part of the movement for the moral reform of the clergy.

The power of the clergy as a whole could only be secured at the cost of considerable sacrifices on the part of individual members of the clergy. Two immense evils against which all church reformers directed their efforts were simony and clerical concubinage. Each of these issues deserves a few words of consideration.

Thanks to the donations of the faithful, the Church became wealthy. Many bishops owned vast estates, and even parish priests generally lived quite comfortably for their time. The right to appoint bishops typically resided in the hands of kings but sometimes also in those of individual representatives of the feudal nobility—the king's vassals. The king usually sold episcopal positions; this practice even became a significant source of his income. In turn, bishops sold the ecclesiastical benefices within their power. This was no secret. Gerbert (Sylvester II), describing a bishop, attributed to him the following words: "I gave gold and received the bishopric; and I do not fear to get my gold back if I behave properly. I ordain a priest and receive gold; I appoint a deacon and receive a pile of silver. See, the gold I gave has returned to my wallet multiplied." Peter Damian, in 1059, discovered that in Milan there was not a single representative of the clergy, from the archbishop to the lowest church servant, who was not guilty of simony. The same was true in Naples, without exception.

Simony was undoubtedly a sin, but that was not all that could be said against it. Simony led to the distribution of ecclesiastical benefices not based on merit but rather on wealth; it entrenched the rights of secular lords to appoint bishops, creating complete dependence on secular rulers; simony transformed the episcopate into a part of the feudal system. Furthermore, when a person purchased a benefice, they naturally sought to recoup their expenses, and thus, evidently, worldly concerns tended to overshadow spiritual ones. This is why the campaign against simony was an essential component of the struggle for the Church's power.

Very similar considerations apply to the issue of clerical celibacy. The reformers of the eleventh century often spoke of "concubinage," when it would have been more accurate to refer to "marriage." Monks, of course, were hindered from marrying by their vow of chastity, but for the white clergy, there was no explicit prohibition against marriage. In the Eastern Church, parish priests have, to this day, the right to marry. In the West, in the eleventh century, most parish priests were married men. Bishops, in turn, referred to the words of St. Paul: "A bishop must be blameless, the husband of one wife." Morally, this issue was not as indisputable as the question of simony, but the political motivations driving the demand for clerical celibacy were quite similar to those underlying the campaign against simony.

When priests were married, they naturally sought to bequeath church property to their sons. They could do so legally if their sons became priests, so one of the first measures of the reform party upon coming to power was to prohibit the ordination of priests’ sons. However, amidst the confusion that prevailed at the time, there remained the constant danger that priests, if they had sons, would find illicit ways to transfer part of the church lands to them. This economic consideration was compounded by the fact that if a priest, like his neighbors, was a family man, he appeared less distant from them. From at least the 5th century onward, fervent panegyrics in favor of celibacy resounded; and if the clergy required a halo of reverence in the eyes of the faithful—upon which their own authority rested—it was highly advantageous for them to be explicitly separated from other people by the establishment of abstinence from marriage. The reformers themselves undoubtedly believed sincerely that the married state, though not sinful, was inferior to the state of celibacy. True, St. Paul says, “But if they cannot contain, let them marry,” but a truly holy person ought to be able to practice restraint. Thus, the celibacy of the clergy became an intrinsic element of the church's moral authority.

Having made these general preliminary remarks, let us turn to the actual history of the reform movement within the church in the 11th century. The origins of the movement can be traced back to an earlier time—the foundation of the Cluniac Abbey in 910 by William the Pious, Duke of Aquitaine. From the very beginning, this abbey was completely independent of all external authorities and was directly subject to the pope; moreover, its abbot was endowed with power over other monasteries that owed their existence to Cluny. Most monasteries at that time possessed immense wealth and were notorious for the dissolute lives of their inhabitants; the Cluniac monastery, while avoiding the extremes of asceticism, zealously maintained decorum and propriety. The second abbot, Odo, traveled to Italy, where he was appointed to oversee several Roman monasteries. Success did not always attend him: “The Farfa monastery, torn apart by strife between two rival abbots who had killed their predecessor, opposed Odo's attempts to establish Cluniac monks and dealt with the abbot he had imposed, Alberic, by means of poison.” (Alberic was the ruler of Rome who invited Odo.) By the 12th century, Cluny's reforming zeal had cooled. St. Bernard condemned the beautiful architecture of the monastery; like all the zealots of piety in his time, he saw in the grandeur of church buildings a sign of sinful pride.

Throughout the 11th century, reformers founded various other orders. Romuald, an ascetic hermit, founded the Camaldolese order in 1012; Peter Damian, whom we will soon discuss, was a follower of Romuald. The Carthusian order, which never renounced asceticism, was established in 1084 by Bruno of Cologne. In 1098, the Cistercian order was founded, and in 1113, St. Bernard joined it. This order strictly adhered to the Benedictine Rule, even forbidding stained glass windows. Lay brothers, or conversi, were employed to fulfill labor duties within the order. These men took monastic vows but were not permitted to learn to read and write; they were mainly employed in agricultural work, as well as in other tasks such as architecture. The Fountain Abbey in Yorkshire is a creation of the Cistercians—an astonishing work for those who believed that all beauty was a diabolical illusion.

The example of Farfa, which was by no means unique, demonstrates that extraordinary courage and energy were required from the agents of monastic reform. Where they achieved success, they were supported by secular authorities. It was these individuals and their followers who made possible the reform of the papacy and then the church as a whole.

However, in the early days, the reform of the church was primarily the work of the emperor. The last dynastic pope was Benedict IX, elected in 1032; it was said he was only 12 years old at the time. He was the son of Alberic of Tusculum, with whom we have already encountered in the story of Abbot Odo. As the pope grew older, he led an increasingly debauched lifestyle, shocking even the Romans. Eventually, his depravity reached such extremes that he resolved to abdicate the papal throne in order to marry. He sold the title of pope to his godfather, who took the name Gregory VI. Although Gregory acquired the title of pope through simony, he was himself a reformer and a friend of Hildebrand (Gregory VII). However, the manner in which he obtained the title was too scandalous for him to escape blame. The young emperor Henry III (1039—1056) was a pious reformer; he renounced the practice of simony, despite the financial loss it meant for his treasury, but retained the right to appoint bishops. In 1046, when he was 22 years old, he traveled to Italy and deposed Gregory VI, accusing him of simony.

Throughout his reign, Henry III wielded absolute power in appointing and deposing popes; yet he exercised this authority prudently, in the interests of reform. After disposing of Gregory VI, he appointed as his successor the German bishop Suidger of Bamberg; the Romans renounced their right to elect the pope, a right they had once claimed and often exercised, almost always in vain. The new pope died the following year; another of the emperor's appointees also died almost immediately after ascending the throne—so it was said, from poison. Henry III then chose his relative, Bruno of Tulle, who took the name Leo IX (1049—1054). This pope was a zealous reformer, traveled extensively, and loved to convene councils; his cherished desire was to defeat the Normans in southern Italy, but he had no success in this endeavor. Hildebrand was a friend and perhaps one might say a disciple of Leo IX. After his death, the emperor in 1055 appointed another pope—Gebhard of Eichstätt, who took the name Victor II. However, the emperor died the following year, and the pope a year after him. From this point onward, the relations between emperors and popes became less amicable. After the pope, aided by Henry III, had acquired moral authority, he began to seek first independence from the emperor and then supremacy over him. Thus began the great conflict that lasted two hundred years and ended in the emperor's defeat. Therefore, from a historical perspective, the papacy reform policy pursued by Henry III was arguably short-sighted.

The next emperor, Henry IV, ruled for fifty years (1056—1106). While he was still a minor, regent power resided in the hands of his mother, Empress Agnes. Stephen IX was pope for only one year; after his death, the cardinals elected one pope, while the Romans, once again asserting their claims to the right they had previously renounced, elected another. The empress sided with the cardinals, whose chosen one took the name Nicholas II. Though his reign lasted only three years, it was full of significant events. Nicholas II made peace with the Normans, thereby diminishing the papacy's dependence on the emperor. It was under Nicholas II that a decree was issued to establish the procedure for electing popes; according to this decree, elections were to be conducted first by the cardinal bishops, then by the other bishops, and finally by the clergy and the population of Rome, whose participation, it should be understood, was to be merely pro forma. In reality, the right to elect the pope belonged to the cardinal bishops. The elections were to take place in Rome whenever possible; however, if circumstances rendered conducting elections in Rome difficult or undesirable, they could occur elsewhere. The emperor was entirely excluded from the elections. This decree, adopted only after a fierce struggle, marked an important step towards liberating the papacy from secular control.

Nicholas II enacted another decree stipulating that henceforth ordinations performed by individuals guilty of simony would be deemed invalid. This decree was not given retroactive force; otherwise, it would have necessitated declaring the overwhelming majority of ordinations of priests still in service as invalid.

During Nicholas II’s papacy, an intriguing struggle unfolded in Milan. The archbishop, following the tradition of Ambrose, began to assert a degree of independence from the pope. The archbishop and his subordinate clergy allied with the aristocracy and were fervent opponents of reform. In contrast, the merchant and lower classes demanded that the clergy adhere to the path of piety; this discontent gave rise to uprisings in support of clerical celibacy and a powerful reform movement known as the “Patarines,” which was directed against the archbishop and his followers. In 1059, to support the reform, the pope sent the renowned St. Peter Damian as his legate to Milan. Damian was the author of the treatise "On Divine Omnipotence," wherein he asserted that God could perform actions contrary to the law of contradiction and could annihilate the past. (This view was rejected by St. Thomas and has since been regarded as unorthodox.) Damian dismissed dialectics, referring to philosophy as the handmaiden of theology. As we have seen, he was a follower of the hermit Romuald and participated in practical affairs with great reluctance. His reputation for holiness, however, was such a trump card in the hands of the papacy that every means of persuasion was employed to convince him to aid the reform campaign, and he ultimately acquiesced to the pope’s wishes. In 1059, Damian addressed the assembled clergy in Milan with a speech against simony. Initially, this incited such fury that Damian’s life was endangered, but ultimately he won them over with his eloquence, leading them to weep and collectively repent for their sins. Moreover, they pledged to submit in all matters to Rome. Under the next pope, a conflict arose with the emperor concerning the Milanese diocese, which eventually concluded in the papal victory, aided by the Patarines.

After the death of Nicholas II in 1061, a conflict emerged between Henry IV, who had reached adulthood by this time, and the cardinals regarding the process of electing a new pope. The emperor refused to recognize the electoral decree and had no intention of relinquishing his rights in the papal election. The conflict stretched over three years, but ultimately the cardinals’ chosen candidate prevailed without a decisive attempt to settle matters between the emperor and the curia. The evident merits of the pope, elected by the cardinals, who combined virtue with life experience, resolved the issue; he was a disciple of Lanfranc (the future Archbishop of Canterbury). Following the death of Pope Alexander II in 1073, Hildebrand (Gregory VII) was elected.

Gregory VII (1073—1085) stands as one of the most distinguished popes. Long before this, he had already played a prominent role and wielded considerable influence over papal politics. It was due to Hildebrand that Pope Alexander II blessed William the Conqueror's English enterprise; he championed the Normans both in Italy and the North. Hildebrand was the protégé of Gregory VI—the very one who purchased the papal title to combat simony; after this pope was deposed, Hildebrand spent two years in exile. He spent the remainder of his life primarily in Rome. Hildebrand could not boast of particular education, but St. Augustine was his main spiritual sustenance, with which he became acquainted secondhand through the writings of his idol, Gregory the Great. Upon becoming pope, Hildebrand came to believe that the voice of St. Peter spoke through him. This conviction instilled in him a self-assurance that, in the eyes of laymen, appeared utterly unwarranted. Hildebrand conceded that the emperor's authority was also of divine origin: at first, he likened the pope and emperor to two eyes; later, amid his conflict with the emperor, he compared them to the sun and the moon, with the role of the sun, naturally, reserved for the pope. The pope was to be the supreme judge in matters of morality and thus held the right to depose the emperor if the emperor behaved immorally. And nothing could be more immoral than to oppose the pope. In all this, Hildebrand was sincerely and profoundly convinced.

No previous pope had done as much to establish clerical celibacy as Gregory VII. In Germany, the clergy rebelled and, for this reason and many others, were inclined to side with the emperor. However, laypeople everywhere preferred unmarried priests. Gregory incited the laity to revolt against married priests and their wives; during these uprisings, priests and their wives often suffered the harshest treatment. Gregory urged laypeople not to attend masses held by disobedient priests. He decreed that the sacraments performed by married clergy were invalid and that such clerics were forbidden from entering church grounds. All of this provoked opposition from the clergy and support from the laity; even in Rome, where popes usually resided, trembling for their skins, Gregory was popular among the urban populace.

Under Gregory, a great conflict arose over “investiture.” During the ordination of a bishop, the latter was presented with a ring and a staff as symbols of his office. These were conferred by the emperor or king (depending on the country in which the event took place) as the feudal lord of the bishop. Gregory insisted that the ring and staff should be bestowed by the pope. This conflict was part of a movement aimed at extricating the clergy from the feudal hierarchy. It endured for a long time but ultimately concluded with the papacy’s complete victory.

The quarrel that led to Canossa began over the Milanese archbishopric. In 1075, the emperor, having secured the consent of the vicar bishops, appointed a new archbishop; the pope perceived this as an encroachment upon his prerogative and threatened the emperor with excommunication and deposition. The emperor responded by convening a council of bishops in Worms, where the bishops declared that they no longer recognized the pope’s authority. They sent a letter to the pope accusing him of fornication, perjury, and (the gravest sin) ill treatment of the bishops. The emperor also sent a letter, asserting that he stood above any earthly court. The emperor and his bishops proclaimed Gregory deposed, while Gregory excommunicated the emperor and his bishops, declaring them deposed. Thus, the spectacle commenced.

In the first act, victory tilted in favor of the pope. The Saxons, who had previously revolted against Henry IV but later made peace with him, rose up once again; conversely, the German bishops reconciled with Gregory. The entire world was outraged by the emperor’s behavior toward the pope. Consequently, in the following year (1077), Henry decided to seek absolution from the pope. In the heart of winter, accompanied by his wife, small son, and a few servants, he crossed the Mont Cenis Pass and presented himself in repentance before the castle of Canossa, where the pope resided. For three days, the pope made him wait, barefoot and dressed as a penitent sinner. Finally, the emperor was admitted. After making his confession and swearing to follow the pope's directives in dealings with his opponents in Germany henceforth, the emperor received forgiveness and was restored to the fold of the Church.

However, the pope’s victory was illusory. The rules of his own theology, one of which mandated granting absolution to penitent sinners, conspired against him. Strangely enough, Henry deceived him, while the pope considered the emperor's repentance to be sincere. He soon realized the grave mistake he had made. He deprived himself of the means to support Henry’s enemies, who felt betrayed by him. From that moment, events began to unfold against the pope.

Henry's German enemies elected an antipope named Rudolf. Initially, the pope, despite asserting that it was his prerogative to decide who, Henry or Rudolf, was the emperor, hesitated to make a choice. Finally, in 1080, when the facts convinced him that Henry's repentance was feigned, he expressed his support for Rudolf. However, by that time, Henry had dealt with the majority of his opponents in Germany. At Henry’s behest, the supporting clerics elected an antipope, and in 1084, Henry entered Rome with him. The antipope formally crowned Henry, but soon both had to flee from the Normans, who were advancing to aid Gregory. The Normans ruthlessly pillaged Rome and took Gregory with them. In fact, he remained their captive until his death the following year.

Thus, outwardly, Gregory's policy ended in catastrophe. In truth, however, it continued, albeit with greater moderation, under his successors. For a time, the conflict was resolved through a compromise favorable to the papacy, but essentially, it remained irreconcilable. The later stages of this conflict will be discussed in a subsequent chapter.

We must say a few words about the intellectual revival of the eleventh century. The tenth century produced no philosophers, except for Gerbert (Pope Sylvester II, 999—1003), who was more mathematician than philosopher. However, as time progressed into the eleventh century, thinkers began to emerge who rightfully claimed philosophical renown. Among the most significant were Anselm and Roscelin, though a few others also merit mention. All of them were monks associated with the reform movement.

The eldest among them is Peter Damian (already mentioned). An interesting figure is Berengar of Tours (died in 1088); he was, to some extent, a rationalist. He asserted that reason surpasses authority, referencing John Scotus in support of his view, which ultimately led to the posthumous condemnation of the latter. Berengar rejected transubstantiation and was compelled to renounce his teachings on two occasions. Lanfranc opposed Berengar's heresy in his work De Corpora et Sanguine Domini ("On the Body and Blood of the Lord"). Lanfranc was born in Pavia, studied law in Bologna, and became an excellent dialectician. However, he abandoned dialectics for theology and joined the Abbey of Bec in Normandy, where he became head of the school. In 1070, William the Conqueror appointed him Archbishop of Canterbury.

St. Anselm shared much in common with Lanfranc: he was Italian, a monk at Bec, and served as Archbishop of Canterbury (1093—1109). In this last position, he adhered to the principles of Gregory VII and opposed the king. Anselm is most famous as the inventor of the "ontological proof" of God's existence. In Anselm’s own formulation, this proof appears as follows: By "God," we understand the greatest possible object of thought. However, if the object of thought does not exist, then it is less than another, truly existing object of thought. Therefore, the greatest of all objects of thought must exist, for otherwise, another, even greater object of thought would be possible. Hence, God exists.

Theologians never accepted this proof. His contemporaries met it with hostility; later, it was forgotten until the second half of the thirteenth century. Thomas Aquinas declared this proof to be false, and among theologians, his judgment was always regarded as irrefutable. However, among philosophers, Anselm's proof fared better. Descartes revived it in a somewhat improved form. Leibniz believed it could be made sound if supplemented with the proof that God is possible. Kant maintained that he had dealt with this proof once and for all. Nevertheless, in a certain sense, it underlies the system of Hegel and his followers and is rediscovered in Bradley's principle: "What can exist and must exist, exists." It is clear that a proof with such a storied history deserves respect, regardless of its validity. The crux of the matter is as follows: Is there something about which we can form a mental representation for which the mere fact that we can conceive of it serves as evidence of its existence beyond our thoughts? Every philosopher would wish to answer such a question affirmatively, for the task of the philosopher is to attain knowledge of the facts of the world not merely through observation but through thought. If the affirmative answer is correct, we can bridge the gap from pure thought to facts; if incorrect, we cannot. In such general terms, Plato employs a sort of ontological proof to affirm the objective reality of ideas. Yet, before Anselm, no one articulated this proof in its bare logical purity. While it gained in purity, it lost in strength; but this too brings honor to Anselm.

Moreover, Anselm's philosophical teachings are largely derived from St. Augustine, through whom many elements of Platonism passed into his thought. Anselm believes in Platonic ideas, which he sees as another proof of God's existence. He asserts that, through Neoplatonic arguments, he was able to prove not only God's existence but also the concept of the Trinity. (Let us not forget that Plotinus's teachings included a notion of the Trinity, albeit unorthodox from a Christian perspective.) Anselm considers reason subordinate to faith. "I believe in order to understand," he declares; following Augustine, he asserts that understanding is impossible without faith. God, Anselm proclaims, is not just just, but is justice itself. It is noteworthy that similar thoughts are expressed by John Scotus. Their common source is Plato.

St. Anselm, like his predecessors in Christian philosophy, adheres more to the Platonic than to the Aristotelian tradition. This is the reason his teaching lacks the characteristic features of what is known as "scholastic" philosophy, which reached its zenith in Thomas Aquinas. The first representative of this philosophy may be considered Roscelin, a contemporary of Anselm, though he was seventeen years younger. Roscelin marks the beginning of a new period, and we will discuss him in a subsequent chapter.

When it is said that medieval philosophy maintained a predominantly Platonic character until the thirteenth century, it must not be forgotten that Plato's works, save for a fragment from the Timaeus, were known only through second or third-hand sources. John Scotus, for instance, could not have held his views without Plato, but much of the Platonic elements in his thought were transmitted through pseudo-Dionysius. The dates of this author's life are uncertain, but it is possible he was a disciple of the Neoplatonist Proclus. It is also possible that John Scotus had never heard of Proclus or read even a line of Plotinus's works. Besides pseudo-Dionysius, another source of Neoplatonism in the Middle Ages was Boethius. This brand of Platonism differed in many ways from that which contemporary scholars find in Plato's own writings. Medieval Platonism cast aside almost everything unrelated to religion, while emphasizing and expanding certain aspects of religious philosophy at the expense of others. This reinterpretation of Plato was already performed by Plotinus. Knowledge of Aristotle was also fragmentary, but in the opposite direction: until the twelfth century, only the Categories and On Interpretation were known from his works, in translations by Boethius. Consequently, Aristotle was regarded merely as a dialectician, while Plato was seen solely as a religious philosopher and the author of the theory of ideas. Throughout the late Middle Ages, both of these incomplete representations were gradually corrected, especially the understanding of Aristotle. In regard to Plato, this process was not completed until the Renaissance.