Are We More Tolerant than Medieval Europe?

While I was reading the Nederman exerts, I kept wondering if we (by which I mean Americans in 2010) are more tolerant than the peoples of medieval Europe. Are we so far removed from the "monolithic persecuting society" of the Middle Ages to which Nederman refers? As a believer that history repeats itself, I would suggest that we are not, though our intolerance in more subtle and unspoken. We don't make polemical statements such as Roland's "Christians are right and pagans are wrong". We don't care for people who show outright and malicious intolerance (such as the Arian Brotherhood, the Ku Klux Klan, and the West Borough Baptist Church. We pride ourselves on our tolerance of beliefs and lifestyles different from our own. After all, we tell ourselves, America is a place founded on the idea of equality and freedom for all. Americanism, then, is the binding element of our culture, much as Christianity was for medieval Europe. But, we tell ourselves, Americanism holds tolerance as a central tenant, unlike medieval Christianity.

However, the history of this country has shown we have been anything but tolerant. Racism has and continues to have a volatile presence in America and has shaped much of its history, culture, and law. Some modern wars might be labeled holy wars and be compared to the crusades. Gender and gender roles continue to be problematic, despite seeming advances of activist and suffrage movements. Christianity has been and is a domineering and influential force in both the private and public realms. Violence has and still is committed against deviant groups. Patriotism and nationalism still rides high, and while many may never say it, they believe the American way of life is superior to all others in the world. Aren't all of the attitudes, actions, and historical references I've just listed the very things we say made Medieval Europe intolerant? Are we really different from them? Is tolerance just something we give lip service to?

Of course, when I say "we" and "Americans" I am speaking of a collective and not of individuals. I am making generalizations without considering specifics. But this is also true of Medieval Europeans. As Nederman shows, medieval Europeans did conceive of tolerance and argued for it. Even within Christianity there was recognized diversity. And there were certainly individuals who rebelled against social norms. What might distinguish us from the medieval Europeans is the way we deal with intolerance. We are not burning heretics at the stake, executing sexual deviants, or confining women to the home. But we share the attitudes that caused the medieval Europeans to do these things. And who is to say we may not do these things some day? As long as these attitudes persist, intolerance will continue to grow and may become as brutal and deadly as it was in the past.

Kempe and Christ

When we read the anti-semitic passages in class today, I was bothered when Kempe says to the Jews, "You cursed Jews, why slay you my Lord Jesus Christ? Slay me rather, and let me go" (140). Doubtless this plea is a strong emotional response to Christ's passion, but it perhaps betrays a serious misunderstanding of Christian theology for Kempe. According to Catholic doctrine and the Bible, Christ had to die for the salvation of the world, and only Christ's death could achieve this. God would only accept Christ's death because Christ lived a sinless life. Kempe, by her own frequent admission, is a sinner, and whatever special grace God has bestowed on her, she is not Christ. Yet, in this passage, she is offering herself as a substitute for Christ. She should know that Christ's death, as horrible as it was in her imagining, was absolutely necessary for salvation. If she really wants the Jews to crucify her instead, is she suggesting that her death will atone for the sins of the world or is she forgetting that if Christ doesn't die, there is no hope for her?

This is not the only place where Kempe tries to be a stand-in for Christ. Throughout the text, she mentions how people malign her, accuse her of being demon-possessed, and being a radical. Christ’s contemporaries spoke similarly of him. Kempe also challenges the religious authorities of her day, just as Christ did. She endured increasing hardships later in life, being abandoned by loved ones and her followers, just as Jesus was. Jesus called his disciples to be like him, and Kempe, like many aspiring saints, is striving to imitate her Lord. But at what point do they stop trying to be like Christ and think they have become equal with him or even surpass him? In Kempe’s case it is difficult to tell, but the fact that she went to such lengths to get her biography written done shows she wanted someone to know of her efforts.

Devout or Delusional?

Margery Kempe can either be called devout or delusional. In her own time, it seems many took the later rather than the former view. In her biography, those who witness her constant prayer and weeping think she is trying to get attention or is neglecting her duties. The few friends she has are frustrated with her. Even Jesus seems exasperated with her at times.

This is all typical for visionary literature of the medieval period. The visionary, especially if it was a woman, was often ridiculed. But the visionary took the scorn and derision as proof that her visions were valid. The more Kempe is criticized, the more fervently she prays and fasts and weeps for her sins. Her love for Jesus becomes more eroticised - she wishes he would come down from the crucifix and embrace her. She prefers her mystical lover to her husband. Again, this was common with such literature. Some of these female mystics would not even look at men so they wouldn't be distracted from their Lord. Some were nuns, literally called "the brides of Christ". The "prayers" and "mystical encounters" with Jesus could be read as love poetry or amorous dialogues. Jesus is all they desire.

For some of these female mystics, it is easy to see what might have caused them to break from reality (or have closer communion with Jesus, however one wishes to see it). For Kempe, I think it is less obvious. She comes from a wealthy family and has married well. It seems after she nearly dies in child birth that the change happens. Is this the effects of postpartum depression? Has her near-death experience caused schizophrenia (or conversion?)Or as with other mystics, did her visions (hallucinations?) come after a long period of extreme fasting, sleep deprivation, and bodily penitence?

Silence is not a Transgendered Person

Since it's inevitable that the topic of gender with come up in "Silence", I want to say that I don't think the poem can relate to contemporary theories of transgenderism or queerness. "Silence" might seem conducive to such topics, but the text does not lend itself to such a reading. It is clear that Silence is being raised as a boy due to King Evan's law which states only sons may inherit. A lengthy passage assures us that Nature spared nothing to make Silence the most beautiful girl possible. Her biological gender is never in dispute - no ambiguous genitalia or hermaphroditic characteristics. She is without a doubt female. The fact that her parents take so many precautions to hide her from society attests to this. Silence is also well aware that she is a girl and understands why she must act and appear as a boy. It is not as though she fells like a boy trapped in a girl's body and wants her physical gender to match her emotional/psychological gender. Neither is her situation permanent. She only need perform as a boy until she comes into her inheritance or until her parents have a son. This all stands in contrast to the modern conceptions of transgenderism, where a person seeks to identify with or become another gender. Silence is a tale more similar to several Shakespeare plays where a character must perform as the opposite sex to achieve an end, but steps out of that role once the end is achieved. This is also similar to the plot of "Mrs. Doubtfire", where Robin Williams' character must act like an woman to be with his children. He does not surgically want to be transformed into a woman anymore than Silence wants to be. Both are disguising themselves for a purpose, and once that purpose is accomplished, the disguise is removed. They are not transgendered people, they are actors trying to survive.

Unnatural

Alan of Lilly is very depressed about homosexuality. At least, that is what we as modern readers would say. The text, however, never uses this word, since it was coined long after Alan was writing. Instead he chooses to compare this perversion of nature as a perversion of grammar. Why does he do this? It would seem, in his mind, that the issue is to do with fruitfulness. Just as “proper” (by which I mean heterosexual) sex can produce children, so too does proper grammar beget language. “Gay” sex is not reproductive, so in Alan’s way of thinking, it is unnatural, because, according to him, it is natural that sex results in offspring. This is how it is with the long catalogue of creatures and plants that appear on Nature’s garments. Nature is fruitful, so anything that is not fruitful, or barren, is unnatural. Grammar, too, must produce language, so if grammar is perverted in the same way sex is, it will be sterile. This is why Alan (and other people) are afraid of homosexuality. For them, it works against the fecundity of nature. If plants, animals, and people do not reproduce, what will happen to the world? It is a depressing thought. This is why Nature makes her plea or plaint. Her whole existence is based on reproduction. Nature is all the living things that inhabit the world (as represented on her robe). They are both producers and products of her. If they die out, she will die out, and vice versa. That is why it is so important for her and Alan to stamp out anything unnatural. It will destroy everything.

A Weak Anchor

It is ironic that Gahmuret’s emblem is an anchor. He is always so restless, always seeking adventure, and (to put it in modern psychological terms) has serious commitment issues. He is unstable and flighty, not the characteristics usually associated with an anchor.

He also seems to suffer from lovesickness. Hopelessly smitten by Queen Belacane, he cannot sleep thinking about here. “The hero lost his patience with the night for dragging on so. With thoughts of the dusky Moorish Queen he fell from swoon to swoon, he whipped from side to side like an osier, setting his joints a-cracking” (Wolfram 30). This is the angst typically ascribed to lovesick woman, not a valiant knight. It also shows the disparity between him and his emblem, as an anchor holds firm a ship that is being tossed and buffeted by the waves.

This is not, however, the only scene that feminizes Gahmuret. On page 43, he is said to have “full lips [that] shone like rubies, red as fire”. Rarely are men’s lips mentioned when describing his physical appearance, much less how red they are. Yet the poet points this out as one of his most salient features.

There is another feminized outpouring of grief on page 57, and this time, another character comments on it:
‘Now summon up all your courage,’ said King Hardiz, ‘for if you are a man you must not voice your grief beyond measure.’
But alas, Gahmuret’s anguish was too great. A torrent gushed from his eyes.

Gahmuret’s behavior throughout the poem is vexing because it does not exemplify knightly, Christian, or manly virtue. The emblem of the anchor is even more problematic. Unless Wolfram meant it to be a joke, it doesn’t seem to represent Gahmuret in anyway.

Ugliness and Beauty

One topic I didn't have time to discuss in my presentation was the relationship between ugliness and beauty. In all the texts we have read so far, the narrators give us plenty of details regarding the hideous features of the monsters/others. Indeed, the narrator of "Dame Ragnelle" leaves little to imagination when describing the loathly lady.

However these same narrators are almost silent when it comes to beauty. Other than using vague sup relatives like "the most beautiful woman ever", the narrators never give us a sense of what they look like. What color of hair does Dame Ragnelle have post transformation? What facial features does the fairy queen in Lanval have? What does the narrators lack of description mean? I would propose that the reason has to do with the nature of beauty. It has been said, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder". Beauty is relative because there is no universal standard of what beauty is or is not. Indeed, movies stars, models, and the like possess a marketable beauty because many other people consider them beautiful. But even celebrities are not considered beautiful by everyone. Everyone has his/her own definition of beauty, so no person can be universally acclaimed as "the most beautiful".

By contrast, ugliness/monstrous is easier to pinpoint. The narrators can expound on the grotesque details of the ugliness/monstrous because these details are more universally identifiable. It is doubtful that anyone in any time or culture would consider a woman with boar's tusks to be attractive! Beauty then is subjective, whereas ugliness/monstrous is objective (at least more so than beauty). While we can debate who is the most beautiful man or woman on earth, we will all probably agree that Grendel, his mother, the Carl, and the loathly Dame Ragnelle are not.