Thursday, September 26, 2013

Joining the Great Debate: Chaucer and The Prioress's Tale

After reading, what is considered Chaucer's magnum opus, Canterbury Tales my perspective on the medieval times changed dramatically. Because of the style it is written in, Chaucer gives readers an insight into the lives of those who lived during the Middle Ages and, if one reads carefully, offers his own critique of the societal practices and norms that existed during his time in each tale. To examine this phenomenon I will focus this blog on one of his most popular (and controversial) tales, The Prioress's Tale. In a response to Doc's questions and as an extension of today's discussion, I'd like to add my own ideas and opinions as to what Chaucer was really trying to say and the point he was making using this tale.

In my opinion, I believe the actual point of this tale is an attempt made by Chaucer to indirectly mock the hypocritical messages that exist in Christianity. I find his descriptions of the Jewish so over-exaggerated that through these descriptions, his sarcasm can be seen. Lines such as "First of our foes, the Serpent Satan shook Those Jewish hearts that are his waspish nest..." which describe the Jews are, to me, very strategic. Not only does it provide readers with an easily identifiable 'antagonist' or 'evil' character but, I believe, it also subtly brings to light the widely popular Christian opinion of the Jews that existed then. To further prove this claim, I believe that Chaucer is using this tale to highlight one of Cohen's seven theses (included in his Monster Culture). If you recall, the sixth theses is entitled 'Fear of the Monster is Really a Kind of Desire'*. So, with this in mind, if one were to re-read this tale I believe the detailed descriptions of the Satanic Jews brutal murder of the innocent, Christian boy could actually be seen as a secret Christian's desire to murder the Jews.

Now, in regards to the second question posed, I believe (again) that Chaucer is intentionally mocking the Church's belief that nonbelievers should be punished and suffer. If we keep my last paragraph's tie into Monster Culture in mind, it becomes evident at how the same theses can be applied to prove my claim. Because Chaucer uses, again, extremely descriptive and/or over-exaggerated lines to depict the Christian boys murder, it represents secret desires of Christians to murder Jewish boys in this manner. Furthermore, it is used in such a satirical way to make the point that the Church (as represented by the Jewish's Ghetto in the tale) is encouraging of the use of force in such a way that they use it to justify their faith.

For my final paragraph, I'd like to bring up a somewhat off-topic, yet totally on-topic point regarding the legitimacy and over-arching ideas embedded in this piece. If you remember, in our discussion today we noted the Prioress's being described and referred to as, first and foremost, a woman (instead of a nun) as especially significant. With that in mind, I kept thinking about the men (mostly, except for the kick ass Wife of Bath's) who were on the pilgrimage and who were so taken with the Prioress's tale that they felt their soul cleansed and faith renewed after the tale was over. Now, just a few tales ago (ie. Miller and Reeve) Chaucer was making the greater societal point that women were stupid, deceiving, and, therefore, not to be trusted. So that leaves me dumbfounded at how the pilgrims were so easily persuaded by the Prioress and now I wonder, what does this tell us about true, Christian society during this time? I believe it, again, reiterates the implicit shakiness of the faith and the Church's role. After all, these folks are being brought together on a religious mission for Pete's sake... how did they already lose their faith? My conclusion: They never had the honest, genuine faith to begin with and were motivated to pilgrimage by their own intrinsic need for greed or popularity or some other human fallacy.


*COMBER! This is where reading your dissertation may have actually not been a good thing. I have no idea if I thought of this myself or am remembering this from your piece, so sorry if I'm accidentally stealing your genius ideas!

Works Cited

Chaucer, Geoffrey. The Canterbury Tales. England: Penguin Books, 1951. Print.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Concrete Christianity?

This week has been filled with interesting discussions and discoveries, all things medieval. Beginning on Monday with the continuation of our Julian of Norwich discussion, the issues of proof, faith, and science versus religion were brought up. For me, this discussion challenged my ideas of faith and led me to question the validation of the Christian religion as a whole.

As I've stated previous, before this class began I had many preconceived notions about the Middle Ages. Now, most of these have been proven wrong in the sense that I had significantly downplayed the role of X, Y, Z and given them some sort of lack of credit. However, the notion of Christianity is something I may have actually overestimated. See, I believed that the Middle Ages was a "peak" time period for Christians and their religion. I understood there was fighting (Crusades) and killing (Crusades) and discrimination (Crusades)* BUT I was steadfast in my assumption that Christianity was a secure, flourishing, and popular backbone for citizens to rely on during this time.

However, after reading the pieces from these past two weeks (Rules of St. Benedict, Boethius, and Kempe's autobiography), participating in Monday's discussion, and researching a bit about indulgences, the fragility of the entire "system" of Christianity has come to light. For example, during my research of Medieval indulgences I came across several articles in reference to Martin Luther (You can thank K. Avery for that link). He argued that the Church had become too corrupt to provide people with the actual guidance that people would need to obtain salvation. So, he nailed his infamous 95 theses to the door of a cathedral all of which discussed 'the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences'. I say all of this to make the point that, although it may be a bit of a stretch, Mr. Luther may or may not have become the newest candidate for the position of 'Other' for my specialty area. Obviously, him and his theses represent religious conflict but, even more interestingly, this case almost represents an internal conflict (Religion A vs Religion A) that reveals a subtle yet notable "break" in the Christian system.

One last thing that caught my attention this week is in directly regarding my research about indulgences and the discussion on Monday. The most interesting aspect of that discussion, I thought, was the issue of faith and proof. I have always been confused as to why, if one truly has faith, their seems to be an implied inclination to actively demonstrate it. As in, I find that those deemed 'most faithful' in society are those that have the most tangible 'proof' of their faith (this could explain why saints with relics and indulgences are regarded with so much respect meanwhile Kempe and her visions are simply dismissed as crazy). When researching indulgences, this thought came up again because, it seems, indulgences give the common people and their self-proclaimed faith their much needed 'proof'. I personally think that the historical abuse of indulgences proves my hypothesis correct but I'd be interested to hear a differing opinion or some further insight regarding one's faith and it's relation to proof.




*I understand that the Crusades were not the only Christian outlet for fighting, killing, and discrimination but I just repeat them because the entire blatant hypocrisy of it all gets me every time...

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Thanks Marge: Interpretation and specialty area progress

The majority of this week, as we all know, has been spent studying our respective female authors in regards to their personal spiritual encounters. So far, my experience with this project and Margery Kempe has been.... interesting. From my exposure to The Book of Margery Kempe and an additional scholarly article from the one and only JSTOR, I've been reminded of some important lessons in how one should approach studying medieval literature.

One of the very first things our class discussed was during our time with Beowulf and the issue of translations came up. Now, I have only read the translation that Doc put on the website so I guess when I say 'translations' I'm using the term loosely and am referring to the transaction between author -> reader rather than author -> translator...Wait a second... what I'm thinking of was during the poetry unit, actually. OKAY so I'm trying to discuss the issue of INTERPRETATION. Remember when we discussed how people could get completely different meanings out of the poems if, for example, they gained more contextual knowledge? Well... I've wrestled with Margery a few times in that sense during this week. Upon first reading the excerpt from Chapter 28 I didn't think much of it. It seemed too straightforward, sporadic, and by the time I finished, I totally understood why Kempe was challenged by many as a mad woman. However, after finding and reading my every so helpful scholarly article I was able to gain a different yet fascinating perspective.

The article focused a lot on, honestly, proving Kempe's sanity. It didn't deny the fact that there were traces of her madness but, simply, re-focused it in terms of Margery (as seen in the autobiography) Wait, I don't want to spoil that for tomorrow. Okay so just know that it brought a few interesting points to my attention and, with the help of some newly discovered contextual information, the second time I read through the excerpt I was not only able to understand the reading itself better but I was also able to understand the reading from the author's perspective (a sane one, at that) which ultimately allowed me to give more credibility to the entire text.

Besides learning to be a bit more patient and a little slower to judge, I believe I learned something from this unit that could potentially aid in my specialty area. First, if you don't remember my specialty area... we're not friends. Just kidding, the technical name for it is: Religious conflict from the perspective of the Other. Now, this idea was implanted by Doc (of course) but the more I think about it, the more I convince myself that it can relate. Whilst leaving class today, she suggested that Kempe could almost be thought of as one of my 'Other' perspectives. Now, I quickly dismissed that idea because I forgot what my topic was and thought that I had restricted myself to a Jewish or Muslim 'Other' [ie. The Cultural Construction of Monsters: "The Prioress's Tale" and Song of Roland in Analysis and Instruction]...but since I didn't, I retract that dismissal!

So regardless that Kempe is arguing from a Christian perspective she is, nonetheless, still qualified to be an 'Other'. This religious conflict not only exemplifies a religious issue (Kempe's strive for Sainthood) but can also reflect a bigger, societal conflict of the time period (role of women in the middle ages, implications of exile/isolation, etc.). Furthermore, the fact that Kempe was able to be such a nuisance to higher order religious authority whom, for the majority, were men and have such an effect on the Christian hierarchy begs the question: how stable was Christianity and to what degree were the members who deemed themselves Christians really comfortable with their faith?

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Monsters and the Sistine Chapel's ceiling plan

Interestingly enough, what struck me most during this short week of classes was the latter section of Doc's PowerPoint presentation on Medieval "print" media. It focused around the art that was painted in churches during the time period and delved into the subject of Medieval architecture itself.

When we began to talk about the tendency for people to (for lack of a better term) 'look around' during Church services and discussed how that would've been the main reasoning's for the (almost) bombardment of Christian art, I began to view those actions in two very different lights. See, I tried to place myself in that time period while also drawing from modern experiences I've had with churches in the past and, by doing this, I seemed to have encapsulated two distinct perspectives.

The first perspective, which I might as well refer to as the 'normal (culturally accepted) perspective' was one of absolute awe. Upon viewing the interior of buildings such as the Sistine chapel I could not help but stare in disbelief as I witnessed this incredible devotion to faith and details. Even though I am viewing it 500 years later, Michelangelo has managed to make the often overlooked, core of Christianity beautiful.

On the other hand, however, as I began to really take the piece in as a whole and witness the sheer magnitude of the chapel's interior I felt seriously terrified. It was as if all of the colors and depictions of people began to flood my entire vision and there was simply too much to take in. In fact, almost all of the characters began to take on a 'monstrous' appearance as I began to imagine them all falling from the wall and coming to life.

It was then that I realized my two perspectives happened to be clearly represented in the art itself. With another look at the Sistine Chapel's ceiling plan we briefly viewed today, I noticed that the division of the 9 scenes are categorized into three separate 'sections', two of them being: The creation and downfall of Adam and Eve and The Creation.

Now, if I were to assign my perspective's each one of the previously mentioned categories, the 'normal perspective' would match up with the depictions of The Creation. This is because it seems that, at the bare minimum, the basic, societal understanding of God is one from the first few lines in Genesis. As for the depictions of the creation and downfall of Adam and Eve, I believe they would match up with the monstrous viewpoint. Not only were they, quite figuratively, depicted as monsters in the Bible but still, to this day, represent the monstrous tendencies inside of us that we must actively seek to avoid.