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History of Medieval Church


Part XIII


Heretical Movements from the 11th to the 13th Century

The Inquisition

 

 

 

 

 

The Church, so entangled in the life of the Empire that it became a fundamental and constitutive part of it, was also drawn into a lifestyle marked by extravagant luxury and its associated pleasures. Simony and Nicolaitism denounced its moral degradation and spiritual decline, which led it to lose its identity and sense of mission. However, from the second half of the 11th century, spiritualist and ascetic rigorist movements emerged from within the Church itself, even among laypeople, aiming for its transformation and spiritual renewal. These movements sought purity of life and a return to the essential evangelical life modeled after the primitive Church described in the Acts. These movements, characterized by poverty and asceticism, became strong allies of the Gregorian reform and of all the popes who promoted it. However, it must be noted that the spontaneous formation of these groups, often lacking adequate theological and cultural formation and driven mostly by spontaneity and indignation against the Church’s shameful lifestyle, frequently resulted in doctrinally deviant behavior. Nonetheless, these movements, both positively and negatively, were a clear sign that the Church could no longer continue in its current state. They prompted reflection that led to a gradual detachment from the Empire and to a rediscovery of the Church’s identity and mission. Among these, the Waldensians, the Cathars or Albigensians, and the Patarenes are especially noteworthy for their spread.

The Waldensians

They originated from the wealthy merchant Peter Waldo of Lyon. Inspired by a meditation on Matthew 10:5ff, he sold everything he had and embraced the ideal of poverty. His followers were called “Pauperes Christi” (Poor of Christ). His preaching was not without excesses: he criticized the veneration of saints and relics, and also claimed, under pain of sin, that it was necessary to live in evangelical poverty. The bishop forbade him from preaching, but the Third Lateran Council, after he appealed to Pope Alexander III, reinstated his right. However, this permission was revoked by Alexander III’s successor, Lucius III (1181–1185), against whom Waldo rebelled, leading to his excommunication. Waldensianism split into two branches: one in Lyon and one in Lombardy, where followers were persecuted and forced to seek refuge in the valleys of the Turin area, also known as the Waldensian Valleys.

The Cathars or Albigensians

They originated from a form of Manichaeism. They taught that the world was created by the devil, that is, the evil God of the Old Testament, against whom the good God of the New Testament sent his angel Jesus Christ to teach humans how to free themselves from evil matter and thus become pure, or kaqaroi. Consequently, all of creation was seen as evil, including the human body, marriage, and sexual relations — all things to be avoided. They opposed the wealthy Catholic Church with their own poor church, organized similarly to the Catholic structure. The Cathars also fought fiercely against the state, referring to the emperor as the “proconsul of Satan.” They spread mainly in France, particularly in Albi, from which they took the name Albigensians. Their wide reach in France led them to ally with barons preparing for conflicts against the French Crown. Thus, Church and State joined forces to fight them — the former with the Inquisition, the latter with military force. Pope Innocent III (1198–1216) called a crusade against them, which triggered a twenty-year war with massive bloodshed.

The Patarenes

This was a political-religious movement that emerged in Milan around the mid-11th century in opposition to the oppression of the corrupt high clergy. It was composed mainly of the lower classes and was called the Patarenes, named after the Milanese rag market. The movement arose as a reaction to the appointment of Guido da Velate as Archbishop of Milan.

The Inquisition

In the Middle Ages, there was strong solidarity between Church and State, which, under Charlemagne and the German Ottonians, became one of identification between religion and politics. Within this framework — where faith was not separate from one’s civic identity — any doctrinal deviation was also considered an attack on the state, due to the deep bond between the two. Heresy was thus not seen merely as doctrinal error, but as opposition to the Church and to the established order. In the context of medieval heresies, a distinction must be made between “heterodoxies” — erroneous opinions developed within academic and intellectual circles and largely confined there — and the popular heretical movements characterized by ascetic rigor and populist biblical interpretations. These movements often represented a distorted and extreme reaction to the Church’s luxurious and indulgent lifestyle. Their goal was a “renovation of the Church,” but pursued in the wrong way. Thus, by opposing the Church, they undermined the harmonious world of the noble Church and, consequently, the social order.

Combating Heresy and the Inquisition

As long as heresy remained sporadic and confined to academic circles — which already had internal mechanisms for repression — or existed among the populace as mere erroneous belief, it posed no major issue. The problem arose when heresy rapidly spread among the people and formed organized movements that often led to uprisings and disturbances of social peace around 1150. This prompted the pope to issue strict measures against heresy, which was classified as a crime of lèse-majesté and disturbance of public order. The fight against heretics thus aimed at safeguarding and restoring social peace and public order. A significant boost to this fight came from procedural reform: judges no longer acted only upon complaints but also conducted official investigations, taking an active role in accusations. This led to the development of the inquisitorial procedure — the Inquisition. In its initial phase, the Inquisition was overseen by individual bishops who appointed “inquisitors,” though they proved largely ineffective. It was under Gregory IX (1227–1241) and Innocent IV (1243–1254) that the Inquisition gained considerable operational and legal momentum: it shifted from an episcopal to a papal institution, and the inquisitors were granted extensive powers, combining the roles of prosecutor, judge, and sentencer. Heresy became a crime under exclusive papal jurisdiction. Trials were held behind closed doors, and the accused were stripped of all rights. The inquisitor typically sought to confirm his own investigations and did not hesitate to resort to torture. In this climate, trials became public spectacles, with verdicts often predetermined. The Inquisition was most established in Italy, Spain, and France. Gregory IX entrusted it to the Dominicans and Franciscans. There were two types of Inquisition: one of papal origin, initiated by Innocent III (1198–1216), and one of Spanish origin, launched by the Spanish monarchs in 1478, which became a tool of royal power against Jewish, Islamic, and heterodox minorities. From a legal perspective, there were two inquisitorial procedures: one ex officio — where papal legates independently sought out heretics — and one based on denunciation. Once heresy was confirmed, the heretic was urged to recant; if not, they were handed over to the secular arm, which usually sentenced them to death, commonly by burning. Under Innocent IV (1243–1254), torture was authorized to extract confessions of heresy. Besides heretics, the Inquisition also targeted witchcraft, another obsession of that era.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Mare Clausum

La rivoluzione inglese del diritto marittimo

 

 

 

 

Mare Clausum seu de dominio maris, pubblicato nel 1635, è uno dei testi più significativi nella storia del diritto internazionale. Scritto dal giurista inglese John Selden, costituisce una presa di posizione netta e articolata contro l’idea, allora dominante in ambito olandese, del mare liberum – ossia del mare come spazio aperto e non soggetto a sovranità statale. Selden rispose direttamente a Hugo Grozio, autore del celebre Mare Liberum (1609), che sosteneva la libertà di navigazione e il diritto di accesso illimitato ai mari per fini commerciali, principi alla base dell’espansione navale e commerciale dei Paesi Bassi.
La stesura del Mare Clausum si colloca in un contesto politico molto preciso. Nei primi decenni del Seicento, l’Inghilterra cercava di affermarsi come potenza marittima e commerciale, in competizione diretta con l’Olanda e la Spagna. Re Carlo I, desideroso di rafforzare il controllo inglese sui mari circostanti e giustificare il diritto a esigere tributi da navi straniere, incaricò Selden di redigere un’opera giuridica che legittimasse queste ambizioni. Sebbene completato già nel 1618, il trattato fu pubblicato ufficialmente solo diciassette anni dopo, nel 1635, in seguito a una lunga fase di censura e approvazione da parte del Consiglio del Re, a causa della sua potenziale carica polemica e diplomatica.
L’opera si articola in due libri distinti. Il primo, a carattere prevalentemente storico, è un ampio excursus sulle pratiche del passato, vòlto a dimostrare come il dominio sui mari non fosse affatto un concetto nuovo o innaturale. Selden attinse a fonti romane, greche, medievali e rinascimentali, per documentare come numerosi Stati e poteri – dall’Impero romano alla Repubblica di Venezia, dalla Lega Anseatica al regno d’Inghilterra – avessero esercitato un controllo effettivo e riconosciuto su porzioni di mare. La sua tesi è che il mare, come la terra, può essere soggetto a possesso, giurisdizione e amministrazione statale. Non esiste alcun principio naturale, religioso o giuridico che imponga al mare uno statuto di libertà assoluta e permanente. Nel secondo libro, di taglio più tecnico e giuridico, Selden entrò nel merito della questione teorica. Contestò l’assunto di Grozio secondo cui il mare, per sua natura, sarebbe res nullius, cioè non appropriabile. Secondo Selden, tale principio non ha fondamento nel diritto naturale, né nella legge divina, né nella prassi delle nazioni. Anzi, la consuetudine internazionale, o jus gentium, mostra chiaramente come gli Stati abbiano da sempre rivendicato e fatto valere diritti sui mari adiacenti alle loro coste. L’argomentazione di Selden si fondava su un’interpretazione pragmatica e realistica del diritto: la sovranità non è un ideale astratto, ma il risultato della capacità effettiva di uno Stato di esercitare potere e di farlo riconoscere. Se uno Stato è in grado di controllare uno spazio marittimo, amministrarlo e difenderlo, allora ha anche il diritto giuridico di rivendicarlo.

Questa visione si inserisce in una più ampia concezione dello Stato moderno, in cui la sovranità non si ferma alle coste, ma si estende verso il mare, in proporzione alla capacità dello Stato di esercitare la propria autorità. Per l’Inghilterra del Seicento, ciò significava giustificare non solo il diritto alla pesca nelle acque del Mare del Nord e del Canale della Manica, ma anche il diritto di imporre limiti alla navigazione e di esigere il cosiddetto “saluto alla bandiera” da parte delle navi straniere che transitavano in quelle acque.
Contrariamente a quanto si potrebbe pensare, Selden non negò completamente la libertà di navigazione. Riconobbe che gli Stati, pur esercitando sovranità sul mare, non dovessero ostacolare arbitrariamente il passaggio pacifico di navi straniere, soprattutto per fini commerciali legittimi. Tuttavia, questa libertà non è assoluta: deve convivere con i diritti sovrani degli Stati costieri, che hanno il potere di regolare, limitare o condizionare l’uso dei mari in base ai propri interessi.
Mare Clausum ebbe un impatto significativo, soprattutto in ambito britannico, dove fu utilizzato come fondamento teorico per rafforzare le pretese marittime dell’Inghilterra nei confronti di altre potenze. Anche se non riuscì a soppiantare del tutto l’influenza del Mare Liberum di Grozio – che continuò a essere la base ideale del diritto marittimo internazionale per oltre due secoli – l’opera di Selden pose le basi per una concezione più articolata e realistica del diritto del mare, in cui la sovranità statale e la libertà di navigazione convivono in un equilibrio spesso teso ma necessario.
Nel tempo, il dibattito tra “mare chiuso” e “mare libero” si è evoluto in un compromesso pratico: il riconoscimento della sovranità statale su una fascia marittima limitata, di solito corrispondente a una distanza dalla costa calcolata sulla base della portata dell’artiglieria dell’epoca (le famose “tre miglia marine”), e il mantenimento della libertà di navigazione oltre tale limite. Questo principio, nato da secoli di dispute teoriche e politiche, è confluito infine nella moderna Convenzione delle Nazioni Unite sul diritto del mare, che regola ancora oggi l’equilibrio tra diritti degli Stati costieri e interesse internazionale alla libera circolazione marittima.

 

 

 

 

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History of Medieval Church


Part XII


Monastic Reforms and New Orders

 

 

 

 

Monasteries: from the Mixed Rule to the Rule of St. Benedict

During the Carolingian period, monasteries experienced two phases: the phase of the mixed rule, which was a combination of Western monastic rules—including the widely followed rules of the Irish-Scottish and Benedictine monks—and the phase of unification under the Benedictine Rule, guided by the work of St. Benedict of Aniane (France). Until the 8th century, around thirty different rules circulated, and each monastery had its own tradition. St. Boniface (Winfrid) attempted to unify monasteries under the single Benedictine Rule but was unsuccessful. However, the new emperor Charlemagne succeeded in this endeavor, viewing monastic unification as a guarantee of unity for the empire and thus imposing the rule on all monasteries. Alongside monasteries, prayer fraternities also emerged from the 8th century onwards. These were associations among monks or monasteries, established both for mutual support and for commemorating members and benefactors—both living and deceased. Under the reign of Louis the Pious, Charlemagne’s son, St. Benedict of Aniane continued the reform initiated by the unification of monasteries under the Benedictine Rule. He applied this rule to the 25 monasteries he founded, creating a system of aggregation that later became the foundation for Cluniac monasticism. This system led to the establishment of 2,000 convents across Europe, all centralized under the mother house of Cluny and under papal direction. St. Benedict of Aniane also compiled two works, Codex Regularum and Concordia Regularum, which provided a compendium of monastic rules up to that time. However, unifying monasticism under a single rule did not ensure the complete reform of monasteries. Since they were closely tied to the empire, they suffered the consequences of its decline.

Monastic Reform

The monastic reform that took place in Brogne (Belgium), affecting 11 monasteries and indirectly influencing England and Montecassino, was characterized by three key elements:

  • Independence of monasteries from bishops.
  • The presence of a regular abbot.
  • The adoption of the Rule of St. Benedict.

A particularly significant development was the rise and spread of the monastery of Cluny in southern France.

Cluny: History and Importance

After the Carolingian crisis, which also affected the Church due to its close ties with the empire, monastic reform movements emerged, leading to profound spiritual and cultural renewal throughout the West. These movements paved the way for the Gregorian Reform. Monasticism played a crucial role in embodying the Christian detachment from the world and guarding against secularization. It also served as a powerful call for renewal within a Church that had become deeply entangled in earthly affairs. In this way, monasticism acted as a prophetic voice within both the Church and Christendom. Unlike Eastern monasticism, which was focused on contemplation and mysticism, Western monasticism engaged with the broader concerns of Christendom. Among the many monastic reform movements of the 10th century, the Cluniac movement, centered in eastern-central France, was the most significant. In 910, Duke William the Pious founded a monastery in Cluny and placed it under papal authority, ensuring its full independence from bishops and local lords. Cluny was distinguished by the free election of its abbot, who held absolute authority, and by its extensive monastic network. As Cluny’s influence grew, its monastic model spread, leading to the foundation of 2,000 monasteries across Western Europe. The abbots of these monasteries were bound by oath to the abbot of Cluny, who exerted direct influence over their monastic life. Another defining aspect of Cluny was its emphasis on liturgy, which occupied much of the monks’ daily lives and was seen as a participation in the heavenly realm. Additionally, Cluny established monastic seminaries to train candidates for monastic life. Alongside Cluny, other reform movements contributed to the spiritual renewal of the Church and Western Christendom, particularly the reform of Brogne. The Cluniac reform also spread to Italy from 936 onward, leading to the establishment of various monastic centers, particularly in central and southern Italy. However, Italian monasticism developed distinct characteristics, including a revival of the eremitic ideal, a strong missionary enthusiasm, and a pursuit of martyrdom linked to missionary work.

The Canonical Reform

Alongside monasticism, the canonical life developed with its own distinct characteristics. This life was governed by specific rules, notably the Institutio Canonicorum or Rule of Aachen (816). The main duties established by this rule included:

  • Choral prayer.
  • A life centered on the claustrum, with shared dining and sleeping arrangements.

However, within the claustrum, canons were allowed to live in individual houses and own private property. This practice was opposed by the Synod of Aachen, which promoted an ideal of poverty, particularly in communities where chapters and monasteries coexisted. As monasteries underwent reform, chapters were also influenced by these changes. However, the reform of the chapters was short-lived because they lacked a crucial element present in monasteries: the abbot.

The Charismatic Movement: a Return to the Primitive Church

The spiritual renewal that affected monks and canons also influenced laypeople. Many sought a new spirituality based on a return to the ideals of the early Church, as described in the Acts of the Apostles: a Church that lived in community, shared its possessions, and embraced poverty and love. This ideal of poverty clashed with the reality of monasteries, which, despite requiring individual monks to live in poverty, were themselves wealthy. In contrast, those following the evangelical movement renounced material possessions entirely and withdrew to the wilderness for contemplation. This spiritual climate led some secular canons to separate from their communities and adopt a lifestyle of poverty similar to monasticism. This movement arose spontaneously and was rooted in charismatic leadership. It aligned closely with the Gregorian Reform, sharing its opposition to simony, clerical corruption, and wealth. However, because this movement lacked strong theological foundations, some members eventually deviated from Church doctrine, leading to spiritual excesses, particularly among itinerant preachers known as the Pauperes Christi. The close relationship between this movement and the general population inspired many laypeople to imitate the monastic life. Between the 8th and 10th centuries, they settled near monasteries, leading to the emergence of lay brothers or conversi, who in the 11th century joined monastic communities and lived a nearly identical lifestyle, including taking monastic vows.

Monastic Differentiation and New Orders: Carthusians and Cistercians

A period of great spiritual vitality (1059-1123) led to numerous new foundations, followed by a phase of stabilization and differentiation among monastic communities. Two key examples from this period were the Carthusians, who emphasized solitary monastic life, and the Cistercians, who stressed communal living. The Carthusian Order was founded by Bruno of Cologne (1032-1101), who, after conflicts with the Archbishop of Reims, withdrew with six companions to the wilderness of Chartreuse in 1084, establishing a hermitic way of life. The “Rules of Chartreuse” (1127) provided a legal framework that ensured the order’s longevity. The Cistercians, founded at Cîteaux in 1098, originated from Cluny but sought a stricter adherence to the Benedictine Rule, emphasizing a balance of manual labor, asceticism, silence, and solitude. Their legal framework, the Carta Caritatis, was written by their founder, Stephen Harding, and promoted charity and the salvation of souls. Unlike Cluny’s rigid centralization, Cistercian abbeys maintained mutual obligations, including annual visitations between mother and daughter houses. The order expanded rapidly across the West, with over 700 monasteries promoting a simple, austere architectural style later adopted by the Franciscans.

Female Monasticism

The spiritual fervor that gave rise to numerous movements inspired by the spirituality of the early Church, as described by Luke in the Acts of the Apostles, also involved many women. Under the influence of major monastic movements, these women lived and expressed their spirituality in ways that reflected their unique sensitivity, thereby enriching monastic life with new aspects and exclusively female institutions. In response to this growing enthusiasm, the Church sought to promote female monasticism, favoring enclosure and other observances that characterized male monasteries. However, nuns asserted their own distinct identity as women. At the time, there were no monastic rules specifically written for women—only adaptations of male monastic rules, which did not fully align with female spirituality. It was not until St. Clare that a monastic rule would be written by a woman, for women. Female monasteries included members from all social classes.

Regular Canons: the Premonstratensians

Reformed or regular monks based their lives not only on the fundamental rule of Acts 4:32 but also on the teachings of the Church Fathers. Among these, St. Augustine’s Rule of St. Augustine was particularly influential. This rule was divided into two parts:

  • The first, Ordo Monasterii or Regula Secunda, was shorter but much stricter.
  • The second, Regula Tertia or Ad Servos Dei, was more lenient and moderate.

In 1120, these two sets of rules were officially recognized, leading to a fundamental division among the regular canons:

  • The Ordo Novus, which followed the stricter Regula Secunda, sought to discredit the more lenient rule by claiming it had been written for women and was therefore unsuitable for canons.
  • The Ordo Antiquus, which adhered to the milder Regula Tertia.

This division led to conflicts and disputes between the two groups. Among them, the most widespread order was the Premonstratensians, founded in France by Norbert of Xanten, a canon and chaplain of Emperor Henry V. After withdrawing from court life, he established a canonical community with 40 clerics based on the Rule of St. Augustine. Initially contemplative, the Premonstratensians later shifted their focus toward pastoral care and preaching. At first, St. Norbert also welcomed women into the order under strict enclosure. However, over time, they were progressively excluded.

 

 

 

 

 

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La legge tra le spade

Ugo Grozio e la nascita del diritto internazionale

 

 

 

 

De iure belli ac pacis (Sul diritto della guerra e della pace), pubblicato nel 1625, è l’opera più celebre del giurista e filosofo olandese Ugo Grozio (Hugo de Groot). Questo trattato ha segnato un punto di svolta nella storia del pensiero giuridico e politico, ponendo le basi teoriche per il diritto internazionale moderno. In un’epoca segnata da guerre feroci, instabilità politica e conflitti religiosi – in particolare la Guerra dei Trent’anni – Grozio propose un sistema di norme giuridiche valide anche in tempo di guerra, cercando di umanizzare i conflitti e limitare la violenza tra Stati.
Grozio scriveva in un momento in cui l’Europa era lacerata da conflitti politici e religiosi che mettevano in discussione l’unità del diritto e dell’autorità. La frattura tra cattolici e protestanti, la crisi dell’autorità imperiale e l’affermazione degli Stati sovrani rendevano urgente la necessità di un ordine giuridico nuovo, capace di trascendere le divisioni confessionali e garantire una convivenza pacifica.
Inoltre, l’emergere del concetto di Stato moderno e il declino dell’autorità papale e imperiale spingevano i pensatori a interrogarsi su cosa potesse regolare i rapporti tra entità politiche indipendenti. Grozio rispose a questa domanda costruendo un sistema giuridico fondato sulla ragione naturale, ossia su princìpi che tutti gli uomini potessero riconoscere indipendentemente dalla religione o dalla cultura.
De iure belli ac pacis è diviso in tre libri. Nel Libro I – “Fondamenti del diritto naturale e del diritto delle genti”, Grozio principiò da una riflessione teorica sul diritto naturale: esiste un ordine di giustizia universale, comprensibile attraverso la ragione, che precede e fonda il diritto positivo (cioè il diritto creato dagli uomini). In una delle sue affermazioni più celebri, sostenne: “Ci sarebbe diritto anche se si concedesse – cosa che non si può fare senza empietà – che Dio non esista”. Con questa frase, Grozio affermò la piena autonomia del diritto naturale dalla religione: la legge morale non ha bisogno della rivelazione divina per essere valida. Questo è un passaggio cruciale verso una concezione laica e razionale del diritto. Inoltre, in questo libro, Grozio distinse tra ius naturale (diritto naturale) e ius gentium (diritto delle genti), cioè quell’insieme di norme che regolano i rapporti tra le nazioni. Nel Libro II – “Le cause giuste della guerra”, analizzò in quali casi una guerra potesse essere considerata giusta. La guerra, per essere legittima, deve avere uno scopo giuridicamente fondato: difesa da un’aggressione, punizione di un torto subito, recupero di un diritto violato. Grozio condannava le guerre di conquista e le guerre preventive non fondate su una minaccia reale. Per lui, la sovranità non giustifica automaticamente la guerra: anche i sovrani devono sottostare a regole. Questa è una netta presa di distanza dal realismo politico di autori come Machiavelli o Hobbes. Nel Libro III – “Il diritto nella guerra (ius in bello)” affrontò il comportamento lecito durante i conflitti. Anche quando una guerra è giusta, ci sono limiti da rispettare. Non tutto è permesso: devono essere tutelati i civili, i prigionieri e deve essere evitata la crudeltà gratuita. L’intento è chiaramente quello di “civilizzare” la guerra, ponendo limiti morali e giuridici alla violenza. In questo senso, anticipò molti dei princìpi che si sarebbero ritrovati nel diritto internazionale umanitario contemporaneo, come le Convenzioni di Ginevra.

L’impatto dell’opera di Grozio è stato duraturo. Il suo pensiero ha influenzato filosofi, giuristi e teorici della politica nei secoli successivi, da Pufendorf a Kant, da Locke a Vattel. La sua visione di un ordine giuridico internazionale fondato sulla ragione ha anticipato l’idea di una comunità delle nazioni regolata da norme condivise, che si sarebbe ritorvata nei progetti dell’Illuminismo e, più tardi, nelle istituzioni moderne come l’ONU o la Corte Internazionale di Giustizia.
Grozio è spesso definito il “padre del diritto internazionale” proprio perché ha posto le basi teoriche di un diritto che non si limita ai confini degli Stati, ma regola i rapporti tra di essi in nome di una razionalità giuridica superiore.
De iure belli ac pacis fu un tentativo coraggioso e innovativo di costruire un diritto comune in un’epoca di disordine. Grozio si rivolse alla ragione come fondamento della convivenza tra gli uomini e tra gli Stati, superando il particolarismo delle leggi nazionali e l’arbitrarietà del potere. In un mondo in cui la guerra sembrava inevitabile e spesso giustificata da pretesti religiosi o politici, Grozio ebbe l’ambizione – e la lucidità – di immaginare un sistema giuridico universale, in cui anche il conflitto fosse soggetto a regole. La sua lezione rimane attuale: in un’epoca globale segnata da nuove tensioni e minacce, il richiamo alla ragione e alla legge come strumenti per contenere la violenza e garantire la pace non ha perso forza.

 

 

 

 

 

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Tra fine e rinascita

L’anno Mille nei racconti di Rodolfo il Glabro

 

 

 

 

 

Rodolfo il Glabro (Rodulfus Glaber), monaco benedettino nato intorno al 985 e morto dopo il 1047, è uno dei cronisti più noti del primo Medioevo. Il suo nome, “Glabro”, significa “pelato”, soprannome che ha finito per identificarlo più della sua origine o della sua vocazione. La sua opera principale, i Cinque libri di storie (Historiarum libri quinque), è una delle testimonianze più vive e discusse del clima culturale e spirituale attorno all’anno Mille.
Rodolfo non è un autore neutrale. Le sue cronache non cercano oggettività: sono dense di giudizi morali, visioni religiose e interpretazioni teologiche degli eventi. Era un monaco irrequieto, spesso trasferito da un monastero all’altro a causa del suo comportamento difficile. Questo rende la sua voce ancora più unica: non quella del monaco ideale, ma quella di un uomo in perenne conflitto tra vocazione religiosa e tensione verso il mondo.
I suoi scritti si muovono tra due piani: quello della cronaca storica e quello dell’interpretazione apocalittica. Rodolfo vive in un’epoca di cambiamenti profondi: la dissoluzione dell’Impero carolingio, l’affermazione delle signorie feudali, i disordini sociali, le carestie, le epidemie. Tutto questo viene letto attraverso una lente teologica: l’umanità è colpevole e Dio punisce i peccati del mondo.

L’aspetto più celebre della sua cronaca è il resoconto delle ansie legate all’anno Mille. Anche se non ci sono prove di un vero e proprio “panico collettivo”, Rodolfo rappresenta bene un certo spirito del tempo: la convinzione che il mondo stesse attraversando una crisi profonda, forse il preludio della fine.
Tuttavia, accanto alla paura, Rodolfo nota un fenomeno opposto: un’ondata di fervore religioso e di rinnovamento spirituale. Il passaggio più noto della sua opera è quello in cui descrive la “rinascita delle chiese” in tutta Europa: “Mentre ci si avvicinava al terzo anno dopo il Mille in quasi tutto il mondo, ma soprattutto in Italia e in Gallia, furono rinnovati gli edifici delle chiese. Benché la maggior parte di esse, essendo costruzioni solide, non avessero bisogno di restauri, tuttavia le genti cristiane sembravano gareggiare tra loro per edificare chiese che fossero le une più belle delle altre. Era come se il mondo stesso, scuotendosi, volesse spogliarsi della sua vecchiezza per rivestirsi di un bianco mantello di chiese”.
Questa immagine – forte, poetica, quasi mistica – è diventata il simbolo di quella che gli storici hanno poi chiamato “la rinascita dell’anno Mille”. Si tratta di un processo lento ma reale: espansione agricola, crescita dei villaggi, aumento delle fondazioni monastiche e soprattutto una nuova energia nella Chiesa.
Le cronache di Rodolfo non sono sempre attendibili nel senso moderno del termine. Talvolta esagera, deforma i fatti, inserisce elementi miracolosi o leggendari. Ma proprio per questo sono così preziose: non ci danno solo i fatti, ci danno lo sguardo con cui quei fatti venivano vissuti e raccontati. Più che uno storico, Rodolfo è un interprete della realtà. Per lui, il compito del cronista non è solo registrare, ma leggere i segni dei tempi. Il suo stile è vivido, talvolta teatrale. Le sue pagine sono piene di segni, presagi, punizioni divine, ma anche di speranze e rinnovamenti. È un autore che fotografa un’epoca inquieta, in bilico tra la fine di un mondo e l’inizio di un altro.
Le cronache di Rodolfo il Glabro sono un documento chiave per capire l’Europa attorno all’anno Mille. Non offrono una narrazione lineare o affidabile, ma restituiscono con forza la sensibilità di un’epoca di transizione. Il suo sguardo, spesso cupo ma anche capace di stupore, ci fa entrare nella mente medievale, dove storia e fede, paura e speranza, si intrecciano senza soluzione di continuità.

 

 

 

 

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San Riccardo, il vescovo che camminava a piedi nudi

 

 

 

 

C’era una volta un uomo che non voleva potere, ma verità. Non cercava onori, ma giustizia. Si chiamava Riccardo, figlio di contadini inglesi, cresciuto tra i campi e il vento della campagna. Non aveva nulla, se non un’intelligenza viva e una fede incrollabile.
Studiò a Oxford, quando studiare era un privilegio per pochi. Non si fermò lì: andò a Parigi, poi a Bologna, dove imparò il diritto con la precisione di chi sa che le leggi possono proteggere, ma anche schiacciare. Tornò in Inghilterra con un solo obiettivo: servire Dio servendo le persone.
Quando il papa lo nominò vescovo di Chichester, il re Enrico III non fu d’accordo. Gli tolse tutto: la diocesi, le rendite, persino un tetto dove dormire. Riccardo non si ribellò. Continuò il suo cammino, letteralmente: girava per le parrocchie a piedi, spesso scalzo, ospite di amici o poveri, predicando e ascoltando.

Non cercava consenso, ma conversione. Obbligò i preti ad abbandonare le concubine, proibì di vendere sacramenti, impose ai suoi sacerdoti di vivere con dignità e disciplina. Dove passava, lasciava il segno: non per il carisma, ma per la coerenza. Era semplice, diretto, senza fronzoli. La gente lo amava per questo.
Morì nel 1253, a Dover, mentre cercava di raggiungere il continente per predicare una nuova crociata. Le sue ultime parole furono una preghiera: non per sé, ma per imparare ad amare meglio il suo Signore.
Oggi lo ricordiamo come santo, ma allora era solo un uomo che faceva la cosa giusta, anche quando costava caro.

E in questo ultimo aspetto, devo dire, credo di essere molto simile all’uomo di cui porto il nome!

 

 

 

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Alcuino di York

L’uomo che rifondò la cultura europea

 

 

 

 

Alcuino di York (circa 735-804) fu una delle menti più autorevoli dell’alto Medioevo, protagonista assoluto della Rinascita Carolingia, quel rinnovamento culturale promosso da Carlo Magno che mirava a unificare spiritualmente e intellettualmente l’Impero franco. Monaco, maestro, teologo, riformatore e consigliere politico, Alcuino incarnò l’ideale dell’intellettuale al servizio del potere, non per assecondarlo, ma per orientarlo secondo i princìpi della fede cristiana e della razionalità ereditata dalla tradizione classica.
Nato in Northumbria, un regno anglosassone dove il cristianesimo aveva radici profonde e una cultura fiorente, Alcuino ricevette la sua formazione nella celebre scuola cattedrale di York. Questo centro di studi era uno dei più avanzati del mondo occidentale, grazie alla sua biblioteca straordinariamente ricca e all’influenza del pensiero agostiniano, boeziano e gregoriano. Alcuino si distinse presto per la sua intelligenza e il suo rigore, divenendo allievo prediletto e successivamente direttore della scuola, in un ambiente che univa studio, spiritualità e disciplina morale.
Nel 781, durante un viaggio a Roma, fu presentato a Carlo Magno, che lo invitò a far parte della sua corte. Il re dei Franchi, già impegnato in un vasto programma di riforma religiosa e culturale, intuì subito il valore di quell’erudito inglese. Alcuino accettò l’invito con lo spirito del missionario e del pedagogo, considerandosi chiamato a ricostruire, attraverso l’istruzione, la civiltà cristiana in Europa.
Trasferitosi ad Aquisgrana, divenne il cuore intellettuale della scuola palatina, l’istituzione educativa che Carlo Magno aveva istituito presso la sua corte per formare la nuova élite dell’Impero. Qui, Alcuino organizzò l’insegnamento secondo il modello delle arti liberali, dividendo il sapere tra il trivio (grammatica, retorica, dialettica) e il quadrivio (aritmetica, geometria, musica e astronomia). La sua azione non si limitò all’ambito scolastico: fu anche un consulente culturale, un teologo attento e un promotore instancabile di riforme.

Uno dei suoi obiettivi principali fu la standardizzazione del latino, che nel tempo si era frammentato in una molteplicità di varianti locali. Alcuino vide nella chiarezza e precisione della lingua uno strumento fondamentale per garantire l’unità religiosa, amministrativa e giuridica dell’impero. Supervisionò la revisione della Vulgata, la traduzione latina della Bibbia, correggendo errori accumulati nei secoli e riportando il testo a una maggiore coerenza. Parallelamente, promosse la trascrizione ordinata e corretta di testi liturgici, patristici e classici, avviando un vasto lavoro di copiatura nei monasteri e scriptoria.
Sotto la sua guida si diffuse la minuscola carolina, una nuova forma di scrittura, elegante e regolare, che rese i testi più leggibili e ne facilitò la trasmissione. Questo cambiamento, apparentemente tecnico, fu in realtà di portata storica: grazie alla minuscola carolina, molti dei testi dell’antichità sono giunti fino a noi, salvati dalla dispersione e dall’oblio.
Alcuino fu anche autore di numerosi dialoghi didattici, trattati teologici, poesie e lettere. Nei dialoghi, spesso costruiti come conversazioni tra maestro e allievi o tra lo stesso Carlo Magno e i suoi consiglieri, affrontava temi come la logica, l’eloquenza, l’anima, le virtù cristiane. La sua opera Disputatio de rhetorica et de virtutibus è un esempio perfetto del suo metodo: la riflessione filosofica e morale si intreccia con l’insegnamento pratico, in un contesto che forma non solo l’intelletto ma anche il carattere.
Sul piano teologico, Alcuino intervenne con decisione nel dibattito contro l’adozionismo, una dottrina che sosteneva che Cristo, nella sua natura umana, fosse “adottato” da Dio. Questa posizione, diffusa in Spagna, minava la comprensione ortodossa dell’incarnazione. Alcuino scrisse trattati e lettere polemiche per confutarla, difendendo con fermezza la dottrina trinitaria e la divinità di Cristo fin dal concepimento. Questi interventi gli valsero grande considerazione come difensore dell’ortodossia cristiana.
Nel 796, ormai anziano, si ritirò nell’abbazia di San Martino a Tours, di cui divenne abate. Anche in questo nuovo contesto continuò a esercitare una forte influenza culturale. L’abbazia divenne sotto la sua guida uno dei maggiori centri di produzione libraria e attività intellettuale d’Europa. Qui si formarono nuove generazioni di copisti e maestri e molti testi classici furono recuperati, ricopiati e conservati.
Attraverso una fitta rete di corrispondenza, Alcuino mantenne contatti con vescovi, abati, nobili e lo stesso Carlo Magno, orientando le scelte educative e spirituali dell’impero anche da lontano. Le sue lettere, oggi raccolte in diverse edizioni, offrono una testimonianza preziosa della sua visione del mondo: un’Europa cristiana, unita dalla fede, dalla cultura e da un senso condiviso di missione storica.
L’eredità di Alcuino è immensa. Il suo lavoro salvò dalla scomparsa una parte fondamentale del patrimonio culturale dell’antichità greco-romana e cristiana. Il modello educativo che contribuì a diffondere restò in vigore per secoli, ponendo le basi per lo sviluppo delle scuole monastiche, cattedrali e, più tardi, delle università medievali. La sua azione rafforzò il legame tra cultura e potere, mostrando come l’istruzione potesse essere uno strumento per costruire unità, giustizia e stabilità all’interno di un impero.
Alcuino di York fu dunque il motore intellettuale della Rinascita Carolingia, l’architetto di un progetto culturale che avrebbe plasmato l’identità dell’Europa medievale. Senza la sua opera, molte conquiste del pensiero occidentale sarebbero andate perdute. La sua figura rimane emblematica: un ponte tra il mondo classico e quello cristiano, tra la memoria del passato e la costruzione del futuro.

 

 

 

 

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La Sacra Famiglia di Marx ed Engels

La nascita del materialismo storico e la distruzione dell’Idealismo

 

 

 

 

Pubblicata nel 1845, La Sacra Famiglia, ovvero la critica della critica critica. Contro Bruno Bauer e consorti è un’opera giovanile di Karl Marx e Friedrich Engels che segna un momento di transizione fondamentale nella loro elaborazione teorica. Con questo testo, i due autori si allontanano definitivamente dall’idealismo hegeliano e dalla sinistra hegeliana, avanzando una prima formulazione del loro materialismo storico. Il libro costituisce un attacco polemico contro Bruno Bauer e la sua scuola, accusati di una critica astratta e incapace di incidere concretamente sulla realtà sociale.
L’opera si inserisce in un contesto di fermento politico e filosofico dell’Europa della prima metà dell’Ottocento, caratterizzato dal declino dell’hegelismo e dalla crescita delle tensioni sociali e rivoluzionarie. In questo scenario, Marx ed Engels iniziano a sviluppare una concezione della storia e della società che si oppone all’idealismo dominante e che troverà la sua espressione più compiuta ne L’Ideologia Tedesca (1846) e, successivamente, ne Il Manifesto del Partito Comunista (1848).
L’opera fu concepita nel corso del 1844, in un periodo in cui Marx ed Engels approfondirono la loro collaborazione. Marx, in particolare, si trovava a Parigi, dove entrò in contatto con i circoli socialisti e comunisti francesi, tra cui Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, e con il giornale radicale Vorwärts! per cui scriveva. Engels, dopo un soggiorno in Inghilterra, dove aveva studiato le condizioni della classe operaia, raggiunse Marx a Parigi e i due iniziarono a lavorare insieme a una critica radicale della filosofia tedesca contemporanea. L’idea di La Sacra Famiglia nacque dall’esigenza di rispondere a Bruno Bauer e ai suoi seguaci, che sostenevano una forma di critica idealistica basata su un atteggiamento elitario e intellettuale, senza alcun legame con la realtà materiale e con la lotta delle classi. Marx ed Engels, invece, erano sempre più orientati verso un’analisi materialistica della società e delle sue contraddizioni economiche e politiche. L’opera venne scritta in pochi mesi tra la fine del 1844 e l’inizio del 1845 e pubblicata nel febbraio del 1845 a Francoforte. Il titolo dell’opera è ironico: La Sacra Famiglia si riferisce al gruppo di filosofi legati a Bruno Bauer, i quali venivano presentati come una sorta di “sacerdoti della critica”, incapaci di comprendere i reali processi storici e sociali. Il libro è strutturato come una critica serrata alla filosofia della sinistra hegeliana, in particolare, come detto, a Bruno Bauer e ai suoi seguaci. Marx ed Engels accusano Bauer di aver trasformato la critica filosofica in un esercizio autoreferenziale, distante dalle reali contraddizioni della società
La prima parte dell’opera è dedicata a smascherare le contraddizioni della sinistra hegeliana, che, secondo Marx ed Engels, continuava a muoversi all’interno dello schema idealistico hegeliano senza mai mettere realmente in discussione i rapporti materiali di produzione e le dinamiche della società borghese. Bruno Bauer e i suoi discepoli ritenevano che la critica fosse sufficiente per trasformare la realtà. Essi attribuivano un potere assoluto alla coscienza e alla riflessione filosofica, ignorando il ruolo delle condizioni materiali e delle classi sociali. Marx ed Engels contrastano questa posizione, sostenendo che la storia non è determinata dalle idee astratte, ma dai rapporti di produzione e dalle lotte sociali.
La Sacra Famiglia rappresenta un primo passo verso la formulazione della concezione materialistica della storia, che verrà pienamente sviluppata ne L’Ideologia Tedesca. Marx ed Engels avanzano l’idea che la storia non sia il risultato dello sviluppo dello Spirito o della coscienza critica, ma delle forze materiali, economiche e produttive.
Il libro anticipa alcuni concetti fondamentali del marxismo, tra cui il primato della realtà economica, secondo cui la storia è determinata dalle condizioni materiali e dai rapporti di produzione, piuttosto che dalle idee astratte. Sottolinea inoltre il ruolo della lotta di classe, affermando che la trasformazione sociale non può avvenire attraverso la semplice critica intellettuale, ma deve necessariamente svilupparsi attraverso il conflitto tra classi sociali antagoniste. Infine, critica l’astrazione filosofica, opponendosi alla tendenza della sinistra hegeliana a considerare la realtà come un semplice fenomeno della coscienza.
Uno degli obiettivi principali dell’opera è demolire la “critica critica”, cioè la tendenza di Bruno Bauer a presentare la critica filosofica come un fine in sé. Secondo Marx ed Engels, questo atteggiamento porta a un elitismo intellettuale che esclude le masse dalla possibilità di trasformare la società. In questa parte dell’opera, i due autori analizzano vari aspetti della critica baueriana, mostrandone le contraddizioni e l’incapacità di comprendere le dinamiche materiali della società. Essi sostengono che la vera critica deve essere legata alla prassi rivoluzionaria e non rimanere confinata in un dibattito puramente teorico. La pubblicazione di La Sacra Famiglia suscitò forti reazioni negli ambienti intellettuali della sinistra hegeliana. Bruno Bauer e i suoi seguaci risposero con veemenza, accusando Marx ed Engels di aver abbandonato la filosofia per un materialismo “volgare”. L’opera segnò la rottura definitiva tra Marx e la sinistra hegeliana, isolandolo ulteriormente dagli ambienti accademici tedeschi. Tuttavia, essa contribuì a consolidare la collaborazione tra Marx ed Engels e a gettare le basi per lo sviluppo del materialismo storico. Sul piano politico, il libro non ebbe un impatto immediato, ma fu un passo importante nella formazione del marxismo, introducendo alcune delle idee che sarebbero state sviluppate nelle opere successive.
La Sacra Famiglia, quindi, è un’opera di transizione che segna il passaggio di Marx ed Engels dal criticismo idealista alla concezione materialistica della storia. Sebbene il libro sia ancora legato a una polemica specifica contro Bruno Bauer, esso introduce principi fondamentali del marxismo, come il primato delle condizioni materiali e il ruolo della lotta di classe nella trasformazione della società. L’opera segna un momento chiave nel percorso intellettuale di Marx ed Engels e rimane un documento essenziale per comprendere l’evoluzione del loro pensiero.

 

 

 

 

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History of Medieval Church


Part XI


The Western Church Between the Late Middle Ages
and the New Era

 

 

 

 

From the Crisis of the Papacy to Boniface VIII

From the mid-13th century, the papacy fell into a deep crisis, evident in the short duration of the pontificates themselves, which were often interrupted by long periods of vacancy.
The spirit that characterized the last part of the 13th century was one of political exhaustion and religious exaltation, marked by spiritual struggles within the Franciscan Order and an apocalyptic expectation of a “papa angelicus.” In the conclaves, efforts were made to find an exceptional candidate who could meet these expectations. Such a candidate was found in Pietro Angeleri da Morrone, a hermit from Abruzzo, who took the name Celestine V (1294). His pontificate lasted only six months and ended with his abdication.
In his place, Boniface VIII (1294–1303) was elected, bringing back to the political scene a capable and resolute figure, determined to restore the traditional power of the papacy at a time when kingdoms were striving for autonomy, foremost among them France.
However, he lacked foresight: he failed to understand that times had changed. His pontificate was thus characterized by conflict with Philip IV, known as Philip the Fair.
Philip IV was engaged in a struggle with England over the Scottish throne. Boniface VIII saw this fratricidal conflict as a sign of the decline of “Christianitas.” After unsuccessful appeals for reconciliation, he issued the bull Clericis laicos in 1296, forbidding the French clergy from paying taxes to the king, thereby depriving him of the resources needed to continue the war. In response, Philip IV banned any export of money from France, cutting off most of the Apostolic Chamber’s revenues. Boniface VIII was forced to yield.
The peace, however, was short-lived. Philip IV later had a papal legate imprisoned. Boniface VIII summoned him before his tribunal with the bull Ausculta, fili, which Philip IV rejected. In response, Boniface VIII issued the famous bull Unam Sanctam, asserting the theory of the two swords and the supremacy of the Sacerdotium over the Regnum. In retaliation, Philip IV launched a defamatory campaign against the pope. Meanwhile, in Anagni, Boniface VIII was preparing to excommunicate Philip IV when the latter, with a small force of soldiers, attacked the pope and held him prisoner in his own residence, from which he was freed two days later by the local population.
Yet, the grave offense against the pope went unpunished—a sign that the papal figure had declined in stature and that religion had become a mere political matter.
This marked the end of Christianitas.
Boniface VIII returned to Rome, where he died shortly thereafter, along with the dreams of papal dominion over the world. With Boniface VIII, the universal supremacy of the papacy definitively came to an end.

The Consequences of a Slap

The process of subordinating the Church to the state, which began with Constantine, deepened under Charlemagne and the Ottonians, was interrupted and reversed by Gregory VII, the Concordat of Worms, and Innocent III: imperial theocracy gave way to papal theocracy.
However, with the significant attack on Boniface VIII (1308) by Philip IV of France—the so-called Slap of Anagni—the decline of papal power began. It faced strong opposition from the emerging European states.
As a result, in the late Middle Ages, a clear opposition to and rejection of papal claims to temporal power over states took shape, while the pope’s authority came to be regarded increasingly as a spiritual one concerning salvation.
Within this framework, three trends emerged: the governance of the Church in its temporal expression gradually passed to the principes, while the clergy in public and judicial administrations were replaced by lay officials.
Thus, a new bureaucratic and administrative class was established, upon which the clergy increasingly depended to achieve its objectives. However, this was not a secularization of state life but rather an assertion of independence from papal authority.
The superiority of the gladius spiritualis et materialis was no longer accepted sic et simpliciter but was contested and rejected.
The drive for independence from papal power was also fueled by excessive hierocratic claims, which were heightened precisely by this emerging spirit of autonomy from ecclesiastical authority. However, this was still not a full secularization of power but rather a demand for access to the sacred temporal authority of the Church.
The vision of the world as the historical organization of the divine had not yet faded. Nevertheless, the legitimacy of the Church’s possession and ownership of property was increasingly questioned, as it became entangled in a process of administrative and managerial autonomy within cities.
A significant issue in this context was the vexata quaestio that divided the forces within the Church: Had Christ owned and possessed his garments, or had he merely used them?
The Franciscans upheld the position of mere usus (use), while the theorists of poverty, contesting the Church’s ownership of goods, argued that these should be maintained under state authority.
From this overall picture, it is clear that the political resurgence of temporal power—seeking to reclaim positions lost due to the rise of hierocracy—was extending ever further into temporal and ecclesiastical affairs, asserting its administrative rights and autonomy. This stance soon extended to spiritual matters as well, now seen as part of the common good.

The Papacy in Avignon

After the death of Boniface VIII, French influence over the papacy grew significantly. Under pressure from France, numerous French cardinals were appointed to the College of Cardinals. Consequently, it was inevitable that during this period, there were several French popes.
The first in this series was Clement V (1305–1314), who succeeded Benedict XI (1303–1304), whose pontificate was brief and who, in turn, had succeeded Boniface VIII.
Clement V deemed it appropriate to move the papal seat from Rome to Avignon, which, along with the County of Venaissin, belonged to the Papal States. This decision was due both to the unstable situation in the Papal States and Italy and to his belief that from Avignon, he could more effectively mediate between France and England, which were vying for the Scottish throne.
Soon, however, from 1309 onward, Avignon became the permanent seat of the papacy for approximately seventy years. This was a clear sign that the balance of power had shifted toward France: the autonomy of the Church, established by Gregory VII’s Dictatus papae (1075), reaffirmed by the Concordat of Worms (1122), and embodied by Innocent III, was entirely dismantled.
During these seventy years (1309–1378), the papacy became a tool of power in the hands of the French monarchy. Clement V proved highly submissive to Philip IV, who compelled him to annul the bull Unam Sanctam, suppress the Templars—a decision confirmed at the Council of Vienne (1312)—and, ultimately, open a posthumous trial against Boniface VIII.
Only with the ascension of Gregory XI (1370–1378), under popular pressure led by figures such as St. Catherine of Siena and St. Bridget of Sweden, was the papacy transferred back to Rome. From this moment onward, the modern papacy would take shape.

The Consequences of the Avignon Exile

When evaluated as a whole, the Avignon exile caused immense and irreparable damage to the papacy and the Church: it deeply shook the confidence it had enjoyed up until the time of Innocent III, led to the Western Schism, which lasted forty years, fostered conciliarism, and ultimately laid the groundwork for the schism triggered by the Lutheran Reformation.
Indeed, French influence over the Avignon papacy had disastrous repercussions during the pontificate of John XXII (1316–1334) concerning papal policy toward the German Empire. In 1323, the pope deposed Emperor Louis IV of Bavaria, adopting a hostile stance against him and thus aligning himself with French interests.
This act had serious consequences, placing Germany in strong opposition to the papacy and leading to fatal outcomes for the latter.
For the first time in history, the imperial counterattack did not target a specific pope but rather the very institution of the papacy, whose excessive power had now exceeded all bounds.
In 1324, Emperor Louis IV appealed to a council against John XXII. He was joined by all religious figures opposed to the pope, including Marsilius of Padua and John of Jandun, who developed a revolutionary theory that would give rise to conciliarism and fuel the Protestant critique of the papacy—one that persists to this day.
This theory, outlined in the book Defensor Pacis, questioned the hierarchical structure of the Church and proposed a democratic foundation instead. It denied the divine origin of papal primacy and attributed sovereign power in the Church to the people. Thus, there was no inherent priority of the clergy over the laity. The pope, bishops, and clergy were seen as fulfilling a mandate given to them by the Congregatio fidelium, represented by an ecumenical council.
This vision of the Church reduced the pope to a mere executive organ of the council, making him subordinate to it and obliging him to obey its decisions.
This theory, which subjected the papacy to the council, became known as conciliarism and found its full realization at the Council of Constance with the bull Haec sancta.
The Avignon period was also marked by a significant increase in fiscal policies, carried out through highly questionable and often extreme measures, leading to widespread disorder and scandal. Taxes were sometimes collected through the granting of privileges and papal favors, and at other times, they were extorted under the threat of censure or excommunication.
Such practices intensified hostility toward the Curia, particularly in Germany, where opposition was fueled by the pope’s anti-German stance against Louis IV of Bavaria. Over time, this resentment grew, reaching its peak in the Gravamina Nationis Germanicae and later influencing the Reformation of the 16th century.

The Council of Vienne and the Templars

During the pontificate of Clement V, a weak French pope completely at the mercy of the arrogant and demonic Philip IV, the shameful suppression of the Templars took place.
Founded during the Crusades for the defense of the Holy Land and Jerusalem by Hugues de Payens and Godfrey of Saint-Omer, the Templars lived under a rule drafted by St. Bernard. In addition to the three religious vows, they took a fourth vow—to defend Jerusalem.
They were led by the Grand Master, forming an ecclesiastical knighthood distinguished by heroic actions. Over time, they became financial intermediaries between the East and the West.
Philip IV, arrogant and envious of their autonomy, as well as covetous of their wealth, orchestrated slanderous accusations against them. He had 2,000 Templars arrested, confiscated their assets, and entrusted them to the Inquisitor of France, who was also his confessor.
This infamous conspiracy gained a legal form through the Council of Vienne (1312). What followed was a true massacre of the Templars, without the cowardly and feeble Clement V—merely a puppet in the hands of the king—daring to protest.
Thus ended a glorious institution that had covered itself in honor and had always faithfully served the Church and Christianity.

The Western Schism

After the death of Gregory XI (1370–1378), the last of the Avignon popes who, shortly before his death and under popular pressure—including that of St. Catherine of Siena and St. Bridget of Sweden—returned the papal seat to Rome, a new pope was elected by a College of Cardinals composed of 16 cardinals, 11 of whom were French.
Fear that another French pope would be elected and that Rome would once again be abandoned led the people to exert strong and violent pressure on the cardinals to elect a Roman or at least an Italian pope. Intimidated, they elected the Cardinal of Bari, who took the name Urban VI, to whom they swore allegiance.
However, after three months—due to his despotic and fanatical character, which some believed had been altered by the papal election itself; because the election was thought to be invalid as it had been carried out under threat and violence; and finally, due to the strong and self-serving pressures from France—the cardinals abandoned Urban VI. In Fondi, under French protection, they elected another pope, a cousin of the King of France, who took the name Clement VII (1378–1397). He attempted to take Rome by force but failed and instead settled in Avignon.
From that moment, there were two popes, creating a deep and scandalous rift in Christianity and the West. This division extended even to dioceses and parishes and lasted for forty years.
Both popes considered themselves legitimate and viewed the other as an usurper. They did not hesitate to excommunicate each other’s followers, so much so that, in a short time, all of Europe found itself excommunicated.
The University of Paris proposed three possible solutions to this shameful and incredible situation:

  • The via cessionis, meaning voluntary abdication.
  • The via compromissi, referring the matter to an arbitration tribunal.
  • The via concilii, resolving the issue through a council.

Unfortunately, all efforts were in vain. The two popes established their own pontifical courts with full administrative and organizational structures, and upon their deaths, each had successors.

The Council of Constance and Conciliarism

After thirty years of failed attempts to restore order—since neither pope was willing to abdicate or submit to arbitration—the idea that an ecumenical council could resolve the issue gained traction (the third option).
Thus, in 1409, a council was convened in Pisa, where both popes were deposed, and a new one was elected—Alexander V—who had a brief reign before being succeeded by John XXIII. However, Gregory XII and his rival Benedict XIII refused to comply with the council’s decisions, leading to a situation where there were three popes at once—all simultaneously legitimate and illegitimate.
John XXIII was supported by the German king Sigismund, who, in an effort to put an end to this scandalous and disgraceful situation, was authorized by John XXIII to convene a council in Constance. John XXIII secretly hoped to be recognized as the legitimate pope.
However, when it was decided—so as to neutralize the Italian faction’s numerical superiority—that voting would be conducted not per capita singulorum but per nationes, John XXIII realized his chances were gone. He fled during the night, hoping that the council, in his absence, would be suspended.
But the emperor took charge of the situation, and with the support of the controversial conciliar decree Haec sancta (fifth session), which declared the superiority of the council over the pope, the proceedings resumed, focusing on three main issues:

  • The resolution of the schism.
  • The condemnation of the heresies of Wycliffe and Hus (eighth and fifteenth sessions).
  • The reform of the Church in capite et membris (in both head and members).

Additionally, with the decree Frequens (thirty-ninth session), it was established that councils would be convened regularly every 5, 7, and 10 years, effectively making the council a supervisory body over the papacy.
The Council of Constance lasted four years, attended by over 300 bishops and prelates, 30 cardinals, and 33 archbishops, along with many representatives of the political nobility. Five nations were present: Italy, France, Spain, Germany, and England.
As for the three rival popes: John XXIII was arrested; Gregory XII, already in his nineties, abdicated; and Benedict XIII was deposed as a heretic and withdrew to Spain, where he died.
Finally, a new pope, Martin V (1417–1431), was elected.

The Roots of Conciliar Theories

Beyond historical aspects, conciliarism has its roots in early medieval canon law. To ensure the libertas ecclesiae from the emperor and the nobility, canon law had conceived of the Church as a “corporation” of individuals with the right to act and sovereign capacity.
According to this theory, the bishop and the chapter formed a corporation capable of autonomous action. However, the bishop, as caput, was bound to the totum, without which he lost his corporate identity and thus his legal capacity. This led to significant axioms such as “Totum est maior sua parte”, emphasizing the superiority of the totum over the caput.
Similarly, the College of Cardinals viewed its relationship with the pope. Under this corporative conception, the pope received his powers from the College, making him an authorized administrator of those powers.
Alongside the corporate theory, a legal-personalistic conception emerged. This distinguished between potestas ordinis, transmitted by Christ to all the apostles, and potestas iurisdictionis, entrusted only to Peter. As a result, the Church’s jurisdictional power came from the pope rather than from the corporation. Thus, in papal elections, the College did not transfer its own powers to a delegate but simply elected the person who held the plenitudo potestatis conferred by Christ upon Peter and his successors. Therefore, Christ, not the College, was the true holder of ecclesiastical power.
This issue, dormant during the struggle between regnum and sacerdotium, resurfaced vigorously during the period of conciliarism.

Thus, Haec sancta was not a coup but rather a canonical application of corporative theory, which reached its extreme in the Tres veritates fidei catholicae, which proclaimed:

  • The superiority of the council over the pope.
  • The pope’s inability to transfer or suspend a council without conciliar approval.
  • That any stubborn opposition to these propositions was to be considered heresy.

Jan Hus and John Wycliffe

Jan Hus was born in Husinec, southern Bohemia, in 1370. At the age of 30, he was ordained a priest and, around 1400, became acquainted with the ideas of the Englishman John Wycliffe, who, since 1374, had launched violent attacks against the methods of the Avignon papacy, the wealth of prelates, and the hierarchy.
In response to this decadence, Wycliffe proposed his spiritualistic vision of the “Church of the Predestined,” which should renounce all possessions and live in apostolic poverty. In this ideal Church, according to Wycliffe, only those in a state of grace could belong; anyone in mortal sin could not be part of it, let alone lead the Christian community, whether in the Church or in the state. A pope, bishop, or any clergyman in mortal sin had no authority; likewise, rulers lost their legitimacy.
This theory was very similar, if not identical, to the Donatist heresy, which had already been thoroughly refuted by St. Augustine in the 4th and 5th centuries.
Although Wycliffe’s intentions were good, his theory, if applied, was highly destabilizing to both religious and political authority. After all, who could ever claim to be in a state of grace? Who could be so pure, holy, and perfect as to be considered a permanent member of such a Church and society? Like Donatus, Wycliffe fell into an excess of ascetic rigorism.
Jan Hus embraced and disseminated Wycliffe’s ideas, gaining widespread support not only for religious and ascetic reasons but also due to political motivations. In Bohemia, most prelates were German, so his harsh criticism of them fueled a strong anti-German sentiment, which mobilized all of Bohemia in support of Wycliffe’s religious ideas, championed by Hus.
However, when the German Archbishop of Prague, entrusted by Pope Alexander V with handling the delicate religious issue, took severe repressive measures against the heresy, his actions were interpreted as purely political. Hus refused to submit to the German prelate and appealed to Pope John XXIII, as did the archbishop.
The pope, after summoning Jan Hus to Rome in vain, excommunicated him. Later, he was deceitfully imprisoned by the cardinals, put on trial, and condemned to death by burning as a heretic after repeatedly and unsuccessfully being urged to recant his beliefs. The Council of Constance addressed his case, as well as that of Wycliffe, and in its eighth and fifteenth sessions, condemned both their theories as heretical.
On December 17, 1999, in a speech to participants at an international conference on Jan Hus, Pope John Paul II expressed understanding for this thinker, reassessing his moral character and subtly condemning the cruel injustices he suffered at the hands of the Church.

The Councils of Basel, Ferrara, and Florence (1431–1442)

In accordance with the decree Frequens issued at the Council of Constance, five years after its closure (1418), Martin V convened a council in Pavia, which was later moved to Siena due to an outbreak of plague. However, due to low participation, it was postponed to Basel in 1431. That year, it was opened by Eugene IV, who had just succeeded Martin V.
The participants, empowered by the Haec sancta decree, claimed supreme decision-making authority and significantly curtailed papal power.
To put an end to ongoing conflicts, in 1437, Eugene IV transferred the council to Ferrara. During this time, an attempted schism occurred, which fortunately failed—along with conciliarism itself, though its influence persisted in a latent and feared form.
The council resumed in Ferrara in 1438 but was almost immediately moved to Florence due to the threat of plague, continuing there from 1439 until its closure in 1442.
The primary goal of the council was the reunification of the Eastern and Western Churches, requiring clarification on several controversial points:

  • The issue of the Filioque.
  • The primacy of the pope.
  • The doctrine of Purgatory.
  • The Latin use of unleavened bread and other liturgical matters.

The underlying motivation for the union was the urgent need for assistance against the Turks, who were threatening Constantinople. Only a strong crusade could save the city from its impending doom.
After long discussions, an agreement was reached in the decree Laetentur coeli, but it lasted only briefly. Strong opposition awaited its supporters upon their return to Constantinople, and the West ultimately refused to provide military aid, abandoning the city to the Turks. In 1453, Constantinople was conquered and destroyed, marking the end of the Byzantine Empire.
The legacy of Constantinople was assumed in 1459 by Moscow, which soon came to be designated as the “Third Rome.”

 

 

 

 

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History of Medieval Church


Part X


The Crusades

 

 

 

After Pope Gregory VII asserted the “libertas ecclesiae,” which reached its peak under Innocent III, the task of spreading and affirming the faith (negotium fidei) fell entirely to the Church, which became its primary advocate. Among these efforts were both the Crusades and the struggles against heretics. This movement followed a precise logic: the Church’s spiritual authority (gladius spiritualis) issued decrees and bulls (gladius spiritualis materialis) that justified certain undertakings, which were then entrusted to the king (gladius temporalis). This framework operated within a historical and social order perceived as divine, ordained by God for salvific purposes.

Formation and Motivation of the Crusading Idea

The Crusades, launched to liberate the Holy Land from Islam, were based on two fundamental principles: a religious-political one—the “pilgrimage to Jerusalem” and the “libertas ecclesiae”—and a practical one: removing obstacles imposed by Muslims on the numerous pilgrims traveling to the Holy Land. The Crusades were preceded by armed escorts accompanying pilgrims, thereby integrating into the concept of an armed pilgrimage. They also found their political foundation in the Gregorian Reform’s Libertas ecclesiae: the pope was now responsible for ensuring the Church’s security by liberating it not only from heretics, simoniacs, and Nicolaitans but also from infidels besieging Jerusalem, perceived as an extension of the Church itself. Thus, the early Crusades became a political exercise of the new libertas ecclesiae, shaping the reformed Church of the Gregorian era. Furthermore, while the Church had always maintained a passive stance toward wars, between the 10th and 11th centuries, it was compelled to take a stand against the daily misfortunes, abuses, violence, and feuds plaguing Christian Europe. Particularly in southern France, two “pacifist” movements emerged: the “Peace of God” and the “Truce of God,” the latter appearing at the Council of Elne in 1027, which established specific periods during which violence was prohibited.

However, these pacifist efforts yielded little success. Consequently, security measures led by bishops were implemented to suppress violence and enforce the truces. The knight was entrusted with defending the weak, forming the ideal of the Christian knight. In the latter half of the 11th century, the reforming papacy sought to influence the nobility’s ethics, adopting the instrument of holy war. Gregory VII, who exhibited a strong warrior spirit, inspired the Militia Sancti Petri and linked pilgrimages to the Holy Land with the Church’s freedom. These developments fostered the Church’s concept of Holy War—war waged for religious purposes and in the Church’s and Christendom’s interest, where the use of arms and violence was deemed meritorious if for just causes. Thus, both the defense of the Church and the pilgrimage to Jerusalem were considered acts of merit for the remission of sins. From this sacralization of war emerged the belief that its jurisdiction belonged to the clergy. It was the pope’s prerogative to declare wars “just,” granting indulgences and remission of sins while justifying the violence committed by participants.
To fully understand the phenomenon of the Crusades, one must consider the spiritual climate of Christianitas in the West, shaped by the Gregorian Reform. Only within a Christendom imbued with a strong religious and faith-driven ideal could the psychological, moral, and spiritual conditions enabling the Crusades arise.
The Crusading idea was closely linked to the concept of pilgrimage to the Holy Land, viewed as a return to the cradle of faith and Christianity. The Crusades were fundamentally religious in nature and were conceived as military actions to ensure safe passage and Christian presence in the Holy Places. Additionally, historical circumstances played a role: Rome was deeply concerned about the East’s situation following the Byzantine defeat at Manzikert in 1071 and the Turkish conquest of Jerusalem and Damascus in 1076. What would happen to the West and Christendom if the Eastern Roman Empire collapsed? Another crucial factor in the formation of the Crusades was chivalry. After the Carolingian Empire’s dissolution, chivalry became synonymous with plunder, robbery, and oppression. The Church’s patient educational efforts redirected these energies toward noble ideals of protecting the weak and women. Finally, through a liturgical consecration, the knight took on the form of a Christian warrior, akin to a religious soldier. Nobility began to converge within the chivalric ranks, leading to the rise of knightly orders, which the pope would later call upon to defend Christendom and the Holy Sepulcher.

The Crusades: Historical Aspects

There is no doubt that the ideals driving the Crusades were primarily Christian and missionary in nature. What prompted the pope and Western Christendom to create these military movements for conquest and liberation was the alarming situation in the East: the Turkish conquest of Jerusalem (1071) and the continuous complaints from pilgrims about Turkish oppression. Additionally, Islamic armies threatened Constantinople, leading Emperor Alexios I to seek Western aid. Pope Urban II, moved by these appeals, made a passionate call to Christendom at the Synods of Piacenza and Clermont. The response was overwhelming, with the unanimous cry of Deus lo vult! as Europe mobilized to aid the Byzantine East and liberate the Holy Land. Since both Henry IV and Philip I were excommunicated, leadership of this vast movement fell to the pope. Remarkably, this happened just 50 years after the Synod of Sutri (1046), in which Henry III had saved the papacy and set it on the path to universal greatness.

The Major Crusades

First Crusade (1096–1099)
Urban II’s powerful speech at Clermont, spread by zealous preachers across Europe, ignited fervor. The popular response was overwhelming. An enormous crowd of peasants and commoners, led by Peter the Hermit, preceded the official crusading armies. However, these undisciplined zealots committed bloody massacres of Jews and engaged in pillaging and violence along their path. They were swiftly annihilated by the Turks in their first encounter. The main army, divided into four contingents, converged at Constantinople in 1097 and, in July 1099, conquered Jerusalem, unleashing disgraceful looting and horrific massacres of the local population. The outcome of this First Crusade was the establishment of the Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem, modeled on the feudal system with small principalities.

Second Crusade (1147–1149)
Launched to aid Eastern Christians against the Turks, who had seized Edessa (1144). Preached fervently by Bernard of Clairvaux, the crusading armies of France and Germany regrouped but suffered heavy losses, ultimately returning defeated and disillusioned. This left the Kingdom of Jerusalem isolated and vulnerable to the powerful Saladin, who conquered it in 1187. This set the stage for the Third Crusade.

Third Crusade (1189–1192)
Responding to Saladin’s conquest of Jerusalem, this well-organized crusade achieved a brilliant victory at Iconium. However, the unexpected death of Emperor Frederick Barbarossa deprived the expedition of its leader, preventing further success. Nonetheless, it secured a truce allowing Christians access to Jerusalem.

Fourth Crusade (1202–1204)
The death of Saladin (1192) encouraged the West to embark on another crusade, promoted by Pope Innocent III. Unfortunately, the expedition, financed by Venice, which had expansionist and commercial ambitions in the East, was diverted to Constantinople. There, after a horrific massacre that deepened the rift between East and West, the Latin Empire was established, provoking bitterness and outrage throughout the Western world. This crusade was a religious and political tragedy to the extent that doubts arose about the feasibility of continuing these “Christian expeditions.” It was at this point that the idea emerged that God might prefer to rely on defenseless virgins and children rather than warriors. Inspired by this notion, the so-called “Children’s Crusade” (1212) took place, consisting of boys from France and Germany, but it ended in utter failure.

Fifth Crusade (1217–1221)
This was a private enterprise undertaken by the excommunicated Emperor Frederick II, which ultimately proved to be a substantial failure. The crusaders seized Damietta in Egypt with the intention of exchanging it for Jerusalem; however, they became trapped there and were forced to retreat hastily to save themselves. It was in Damietta, in 1219, that Saint Francis attempted, unsuccessfully, to convert Sultan Al-Kamil.

Sixth Crusade (1228–1229)
This was the only crusade, aside from the First, to achieve positive results. Led by Frederick II, it secured Jerusalem, Nazareth, and Bethlehem through negotiations with Sultan Al-Kamil, along with a ten-year truce. However, Christendom viewed this achievement with suspicion, considering it impious, though Jerusalem remained under Christian control until 1244.

Seventh Crusade (1249–1254)
King Louis IX took on the mission of liberating the Holy Land, but after conquering Damietta, he was captured and remained imprisoned for four years before returning to France upon paying a hefty ransom. He later attempted an Eighth Crusade (1270), which ended in disaster as disease decimated his forces. The king died in front of Tunis. Twenty years later, all Latin possessions in the East were abandoned.

The Consequences of the Crusades

Although the Crusades ultimately ended in military failure, they had a profound impact on social, cultural, political, and religious spheres. For nearly two centuries (1095–1291), Europe rediscovered its Christianitas, rallying around the papacy as the spiritual, religious, and political leader of the West, transcending the boundaries of individual states. During these centuries, a unified European and Western consciousness emerged, with the papacy serving as its focal point and unifying force. Additionally, there was a spiritual and religious awakening of consciences, as people viewed the Crusades as a Peregrinatio religiosa—a sacred pilgrimage modeled on the poor and crucified Redeemer, inspiring the ideal of imitating Christ through poverty and penance. This, in turn, led to the rise of the first pauperist movements. Another consequence was the increase in the religious and political authority of the papacy, which became the central force unifying all of Western Christendom. The Crusades also fostered a renewed connection between the West and the East, akin to a return to Christian origins. They facilitated encounters with Arab culture, particularly Arab-Aristotelian philosophy, opening new theological perspectives. Trade also benefited, especially for Venice, which built its commercial empire upon the Crusades. Finally, the Crusades alleviated social tensions by channeling everyday violence into what was perceived as a righteous cause. For violent individuals, troublemakers, impoverished wanderers, and adventurers, the Crusades provided an outlet for their existential instability.

Negative Aspects of the Crusades

The Crusades’ results were meager, disappointing, and virtually nonexistent. The objectives set out were largely unfulfilled, leading to massive casualties and unimaginable violence that wounded the consciences of both the Western and Eastern worlds. From an evangelical perspective, the Crusades were a disaster, inflicting a deep spiritual and moral wound within the Church. In recent times, the Church has felt the need to seek God’s forgiveness for the immense, reckless massacres and the great suffering inflicted on a part of humanity.

 

 

 

 

 

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