These days, we are all troubled by the limitations on movement. For this very reason, I decided to write a few lines, not to provide comfort to readers, but to illustrate the struggles of the medieval man who faced the same problem. The medieval man didn’t have a curfew, but he had an equal, if not greater, inability to move after sunset. He wasn’t stopped for identification but was immediately confronted by the clubs of hidden highway robbers. Just as we dream of summer and the sea, the medieval man dreamed of a journey to Jerusalem, which at the time was the ultimate destination for every Christian believer. Just as we now survive by imagining “tomato tourism,” for the medieval mind, pilgrimage was a necessity, as it was seen as a guarantee of salvation.
Spiritual Pilgrimage
Pilgrimages to Jerusalem were a common practice before the Crusades, as evidenced by numerous pilgrim diaries—itineraria—one of the oldest being the itinerary of the pilgrim Egeria from the 4th century. After visiting the holy sites in Jerusalem, pilgrims would carry a shell-shaped emblem as a sign of their visit to the Holy Land. The inaccessibility of Jerusalem’s holy places during the Crusades not only failed to reduce the desire to visit but, on the contrary, due to the terrifying daily reality, the need for instant salvation through pilgrimage became even greater. The few preserved maps from the Crusades period show us the importance of Jerusalem in the medieval religious consciousness, placing the city at the center of a circle—that is, the center of the known world.
The Crusaders took their role as protectors of the faith seriously, and besides the usual wartime activities against the advancing invader, they also dedicated themselves to looting treasures and relics, which they brought back to Europe from the Holy Land. This practice of transferring holy objects—translatio imperii—was responsible for the appearance of large pilgrimage churches, which were built throughout Europe during this period to house these items. As a result, the Christian West became acquainted with previously unseen objects, which sparked sentimental interpretations of Christ’s Passion. Bernard of Clairvaux urged the reader to intensely identify with Christ in His suffering in order to experience redemption. Emphasizing Christ’s example—Imitatio Christi—was understood as another path to salvation. Imitation manifested in acts of charity, mercy, living in poverty, and preaching repentance. The medieval man did not burden himself with waiting in line for food, but rather, following Christ’s example, he voluntarily rejected food.
Illustration: John Rupert Martin, The Illustration of the Heavenly Ladder of John Climacus, Princeton 1954.
A miniature from a Greek codex with the text of The Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus from the 11th century illustrates the steps of asceticism. The final step is not depicted. It leads directly to God’s grace.
Some might say that fasting was not difficult for the average medieval serf, given that their diet was based on grains, but I assure you that in hard times, even a little flour is hard to give up. Nevertheless, Christian souls, most of whom lacked basic necessities, found comfort in the fact that by renouncing earthly pleasures, they were paving their way to Heaven.
In the West, the emphasis on Christ’s example was particularly nurtured within the Franciscan order, whose founder, St. Francis, managed to identify with Christ to such an extent that this experience left marks on his body in the form of stigmata. The inaccessibility of the holy places, combined with the desire to imitate Christ in his earthly actions, led to the development of a new type of literature—meditations on the life of Christ. The most popular representative of this genre is titled Meditationes Vitae Christi. These literary works detailed the scenes of Christ’s Passion so that the believer could spiritually follow Christ through the most harrowing moments of His final hours. The events described in the Gospels were enriched with vivid products of the medieval imagination, apocryphal sources, and dramatizations of events. In addition to the detailed and vivid descriptions of Christ’s suffering, the narrator often directly addresses the reader with questions such as, “What would you have done if you had witnessed this?” Sometimes these works focused on Christ’s mental suffering during the Passion, as in L’Arbor vitae crucifixae Jesu (1305) by the Franciscan Ubertino of Casale. These works became immensely popular, enjoyed equally by monks in their cells, the nobility, and common folk. It was believed that this mental pilgrimage, performed within the chambers of the mind, offered the same benefits as a physical visit to the inaccessible Holy Land. The ultimate goal was catharsis, achieved through empathetic identification with Christ in His moment of greatest suffering, leading to the salvation of the soul.
I won’t go so far as to suggest you spiritually tour Greece for the same benefits as feeling the sea breeze, but I wish you a summer filled with fresh tomatoes.
Jovana Pikulić