April 21 -- Feast of Saint Peter Abelard

As far as I know, Peter Abelard is not a saint anywhere but here.  If you are a frequent reader of this blog, you are probably getting used to that. 

How they started out

Born in 1079 to a wealthy, moderately aristocratic family, Peter demonstrated an early proclivity for academic and religious thought.  He mastered dialectic reasoning and set off as a sort of wandering scholar -- have disputations, will travel.  In Paris, he debated with his teacher, William of Champeaux, and at length he shot the old guy down.  Filled with the vainglory of youth alloyed with talent, he offered his services as a teacher not far from Paris.  He exhausted himself, took a hiatus, and then returned to vanquish his old master William once more.  Then he entered Notre Dame to study theology, but almost immediately won a faculty chair.  He attracted hundreds (he said thousands) of students to his lectures; he thought of himself as the only undefeated philosopher in the world. 

How they ended up

Obviously, an ego like that begs for a fall.  His began with the niece of a secular canon named Fulbert, in whose house Peter had found employment.  He seduced the beatiful, brilliant young lady who was eleven years his junior.  No one cared about the age gap.  She was well past the customary age for marriage, so the only thing that mattered was the avoidance of scandal.  Peter, however, could not resist bragging about the affair, and that was something the family could not stand.  Fulbert arranged a marriage between them and even acceded to Peter's request that the union be kept secret.  He had his career to think of, after all. 

Heloise gave birth to their son, Astrolabe (yeah, like the scientific device).  Embarrassed, Fulbert disclosed the secret marriage.  Peter suggested that his wife move into a convent, which she did.  Affronted, her family attacked him in the night and castrated him. 

How they really ended up

Peter hid himself in an abbey for a while, but they were quiet and provincial while he was flashy and cosmopolitan.  Without high profile connections, his writings were sabotaged by his critics and he got involved with petty squabbles with his monastic brothers.  Eventually, he was granted permission to move out and live as a hermit. 

Peter Abelard could not be a hermit if he had wanted to, and I doubt that he really wanted to.  As the most brilliant orator of his age, he drew hundreds of disciples to his hermitage, all of whom built huts or set up tents.  Eventually, he knew the authorities would close in again, so he fled to the harsh wilds of Lower Brittany, where he headed an abbey.  That wasn't going to last, and eventually he was back on the lecture circuit. 

You'd think folks might have been upset about Heloise and little Astrolabe, but what they really hated was his new school of theological thought.  Although he had buried Realism in his own mind, its adherents still held sway in the important offices.  Charged with heresy, he died en route to Rome for his hearing. 

You may well wonder what's so saintly about a guy like this.  He lacked humility.  He had no record of good works.  And his theology was unacceptable to the councils.  His virtue, of course, was his love of Heloise.  There are over 100 extant letters, perhaps more than 200, between them.  He arranged for her to take over the oratory he had abandoned so that she might be the abbess of her own convent.  She preserved his bones after he died, and they remain buried together (see photo above).  Sure, she deserves the sainthood more than he, and will get that when her dies mortalis rolls around.  But you can't have one patron of star-crossed lovers.  They must work as a team.  So here's to Saints Peter Abelard and his beautiful bride, Heloise, saints of the thwarted amor. 

April 18 -- Feast of Saint Perfecto de Cordoba

Does a promise of immunity from prosecution expire?  If so, isn't it only fair that the expiration is declared along with the assurance of immunity?  Alas, Father Perfecto was given the promise but not warned about the expiration (which was probably unknown to those making the promise).   Thus, he became the first martyr during the Umayyad Caliphate's occupation of Andalusia, Spain. 

I like to think it was a sunny day on April 18, 850.  Maybe Father Perfecto, who had been born after the establishment of the Caliphate in Cordoba, was walking along the Rio Guadalquivir, thinking about the Paschal Mass he had offered on April 6 (thanks, Quick Easter Calculator!).  Maybe he was wishing that people would clean up after their dogs along the riverbank instead of leaving a mess for someone to step in.  Who know...

Death in Andalusia

Anyway, a couple of Muslims approached him and struck up a conversation.  There was nothing to that.  Christianity was not forbidden under the Caliphate, but Christians had to be careful not to evangelize.  Apostasy was forbidden for Muslims, and encouraging apostasy was forbidden for Christians.  Moreover, defaming the Prophet carried (carries still) the death sentence.  But these fellas seemed like they really wanted to understand their Christian neighbors, so they were asking about the faith in an academic, safe kind of way. 

Then they asked the Big Question.  What do you think of the Prophet Muhammad?  Really, how do you understand who he was and what he did. 

Perfecto wisely told them that it would be unwise to tell them.  Not a safe subject, thanks for the chat, the crocuses are lovely, aren't they?

Did they have crocuses in 9th century Spain?

We won't tell a soul, they promised.  Just between us, because we really want to understand what our community better...

So according to Catholic.net via Google Translate, Perfecto says, "Muhammad is the demon man, sorcerer, adulterer, cheater, accursed of God, an instrument of Satan, come from hell to ruin and condemnation of the people."  

Yeah, well, that killed the friendly conversation.  I figure the other guys were bug-eyed and backed away from him, like you would a mad dog because it would probably spring at you if you turned your back on it.  

They mulled over what they had heard for a week or so.  By that time, they figured the promise of immunity had expired and God's law demanded that the priest's head be struck off.  A quick trip to Emir Abd al-Rahman II and all the details were arranged.  

Perfecto had time to run and of course he had not done so.  If he had been offered a team of horses and enough money to reach Paris he would not have left.  But word is bond, and if you encourage a crime, even a crime like blasphemy, with a promise to remain silent, you have to honor your word.  Not for a week, not for a month, but for as long as you live.  

In his novel Valis, Philip K. Dick comments that a divine judge should apply a person's own theological values to judge him or her.  He imagines that his friend Kevin, a brutally sarcastic and skeptical agnostic, would be mocked by God on Judgment Day, a fitting punishment for the way he humiliated his devout companions.  If that was / is / will be the nature of the final judgment, I wonder what would be in store for the folks who betrayed Perfecto's confidence.