Category Archives: Books

Posts about books.

Gratian’s Decretum both fills and creates a need

Tree of consanguinity (13th-c, not a Durham ms; do not know which ms)

This week, I spent some time analysing three of Durham Cathedral Library’s canon law manuscripts, C.II.1, C.I.7, and C.III.1. All of these are from the late twelfth or very early thirteenth century. Sadly, none is yet digitised. They are all manuscripts of Magister Gratian’s so-called Decretum, a canon law collection put together around 1140 in Bologna (original title: Concordia discordantium canonum — Concord of discordant canons). They all include glosses — marginal commentaries keyed to individual words in the main text. C.II.1 and C.I.7 have the same base gloss.

The University of Bologna, where Magister Gratian taught, has a strong claim to being Europe’s first university (as we understand the term), and where the scholastic study of both Roman and canon law was born in the 1100s. With the rise of the university comes the need for textbooks. We all know this today — as an undergraduate, I used Wheelock’s LatinGreek: An Intensive CourseA History of the Roman People, all books designed specifically for teaching, for the classroom (the schola in medieval terms; thus scholasticus, thus ‘scholasticism’).

Gratian’s Decretum is that textbook for most of the rest of the Middle Ages, although as the body of papal legislation ramps up in the 1200s, it becomes necessary to supplement Gratian in the classroom with the new laws. Gratian offers the reader a systematic setting forth of church law. He begins with what many call the ‘Treatise on Laws’, a discussion of what natural and customary law are, what their domains are, what justice is, whether laws can be unjust, and what the sources of authority in law are amongst other concerns.

The Decretum as most people used it from the 1150s on, then systematically treats different sub-areas of canon law. Following the scholastic method, Gratian lays out for the reader different opinions from various authorities (councils, popes, church fathers) and seeks a way through them where they differ, finding the concordia of the book’s title. When the authorities themselves do not naturally create a resolution, Gratian will give his own.

The result is a massive compendium of canon law covering most of what one needs to know in the mid-1100s. It is much larger than, say, the Decretum of Burchard of Worms from the early 1000s (having held manuscripts of both, I can attest to this fact). Nevertheless, Gratian’s Decretum fills the need for a canon law textbook, a need keenly felt, given how quickly it was dispersed and how full its dominance really was. Take note that canon law is the one subject taught at all medieval universities and that some of the cathedral schools, such as that of Lincoln, closed because they did not offer canon law. A textbook such as this had a wide audience and great potential.

It fills a need.

I think also, however, that it creates a need. With a text suited to the methods of the twelfth-century classroom becoming widely available, more people would be able to become more deeply acquainted with the broad range of church legislation that Gratian had compiled. It became the set body of esoteric knowledge needed to become a professional in canon law. With everyone teaching it and learning from it, anyone who wanted to make a case in an ecclesiastical court or through a written plea/appeal or simply who wanted to get a job done in compliance with church law, would have to have either someone versed in canon law at hand or be that person him’erself (usually him, this being the Middle Ages, but not always).

Thus, by its very popularity, Gratian’s Decretum created the need for Gratian’s Decretum. We don’t have four copies in Durham for no reason. No matter how good Ivo’s Decretum or Burchard’s or the Panormia attributed to Ivo was, without the particulars of law as set out in Gratian’s Decretum, one would be at a disadvantage in the brave, new world of burgeoning canon law and the growth of the western church as a legislative institution.

So everyone got a copy.


Men, persons, humans

Thor: A person who is not a human

Since the Old English use of man to mean ‘a human being’ has been largely co-opted at this stage in the history of English to mean ‘a male human being’, many people have rightly sought new, gender-neutral/inclusive nouns to refer to individual human persons.

The most common solution is person/persons (or people). However, this does not work in all cases, since in some domains, human beings are not the only persons potentially under discussion. The realms that come to mind in this regard are theology, mythology, and science fiction and fantasy. In the last dual category of genre fiction, Star Trek calls us earthlings humans (pronounced by Quark the Ferengi as ‘humahns’). Obviously, many non-humans in Star Trek are persons — Odo and Hu, just to mention those who’ve already made an appearance on this blog. But all humanoid species and many non-humanoid species in Trek are persons. Even Q, the space fairy.

I am actually less certain about fantasy, since I do not read a lot of new fantasy. In Tolkien, the human species is populated by Men with a capital ‘M’, reflecting both the archaic nature of the language and its cadence as used by Tolkien as well as Tolkien’s own era.

In mythology, one has a variety of non-human persons. The concern here arises for translators and philologists who want to discuss literature in the Classical tradition. How do you render anthropos and homo? It cannot be person, since by current English usage, gods, demi-gods, centaurs, et al., are also persons.

Similarly in theology. In Christian theology, God is a Trinity of Persons, so it is actually imprecise to use person where a few decades ago one would have used manMankind also runs into similar problems, often solved by humankind, a word I dislike; much better to say humanity, I think. One place where this is a difficulty is Genesis 1, where God speaks of making, in older translations, ‘man in our image’. Andrew Louth circumvented this danger in Introducing Eastern Orthoodox Theology by consistently rendering (from Greek, not Hebrew) anthropos as human kind until he had to bring the discussion to the singular.

Many current English translations of the Bible and ancient Christian literature seem to think person is a perfect synonym for anthropos. Or, in the case of new translations of the Nicene Creed, cut men out altogether, ‘who for us and for our salvation’. Loses some of the theological potency; us what?

One of the books that is consistent in using one solution to the problem is Greta Austin, Shaping Church Law Around the Year 1000: The Decretum of Burchard of Worms. She consistently always refers to human beings using the substantive humans. This works. It is not as common as it should be, although I see it every once in a while. The philological objection is, of course, that human is an adjective, not a noun. But adjectives are frequently nounified when necessary, and this maintains the linguistic precision of the Latin text under discussion as well as the theological context of Burchard.

Perhaps not a breakthrough or deep or illuminating, but it is important for us to keep in mind not only why we may wish to shift our lexicon away from something, but also to consider where we are turning. Precision and accuracy are important, and person is often too imprecise for accuracy in language.

Patristic homilies for a medieval Christmas

My latest post on the Durham Priory Library Recreated project blog looks at Durham Cathedral Library B.II.2, a copy of Paul the Deacon’s homiliary of patristic sermons arranged by feast:

Christmas in the Codices

Please do textual criticism on something other than the New Testament

If you did Septuagint criticism, you could work on the Vienna Genesis! LOOK AT IT

A friend recently directed my attention towards the Tyndale House Greek New Testament. It’s not a bad idea, as far as editions go. They try to determine what the actual first-century spelling or pronunciation of the words at hand was and then use it, rather than a levelled-out, standardised, modern-Classical Greek spelling. This will please those of the ilk who like to see Cristus in medieval Latin instead of Christus. It is also, apparently, designed simply to be read, which is a fine idea as well. From what I’ve read on their blog, it seems that sound philology lies behind this edition of the Greek New Testament. It seems that Dirk Jongkind (whose work on the scribal habits of Sinaiticus I’ve actually read) and team should be pleased.

So you can go buy it and put in on the shelf next to your copy of the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament and the Nestle-Aland Greek New Testament, 28th edition, (both of which have about the same text) and Michael W. Holmes’ SBL Greek New Testament. (I guess, after making sure the world had a third edition of Lightfoot’s The Apostolic Fathers, Holmes felt there weren’t enough New Testaments?)

I shouldn’t be snarky. I should, as a (Latin) text critic be happy to see the science itself flourish and get publications.

Except, I wonder — is this evidence of textual criticism flourishing and getting publications?

Or do all of our promising Greek scholars with an interest in ancient Christianity find themselves beating to death the text and mss of the New Testament with no new major ms finds for years? I think the reason why NT textual criticism is innovative is twofold: 1. They have way too many mss and frags to deal with. 2. There are so many of them (scholars, that is).

Anyway, the point of this rambling rant is: Could you please divert your skills and resources and attention to something else? I, myself, am working on texts that haven’t been edited since 1753 (the letters of Leo the Great), for the most part, but also a couple that haven’t had any work done since 1723 (Coustant’s edition of the popes before Leo). This afternoon, I was looking at Durham Cathedral Library, B.IV.17, a twelfth-century copy of the Decretum of Burchard of Worms. Now, Burchard hasn’t been edited since 1748, but he’s at least had some very interesting textual criticism done since they found his autographs.

Those texts are Latin, I realise. But if the Greek Bible is of interest to young minds, brimming with linguistic knowledge, wouldn’t it be nice to see the Septuagint get some of the love? We have that German Bible Society edition, but that’s not fully and truly critical, and La Bible d’Alexandrie is not yet done, from what I can tell. This is the Bible Paul of Tarsus read, people; the Bible of Justin Martyr, of Clement of Alexandria, of Origen, of Athanasius, of John Chrysostom, of the Greek priest next door. From a purely academic standpoint, this is a hugely significant text in need of a lot of work. I know people are working on it, but they seem mostly to be French or German.

And what about the texts of the people who helped forge Christianity? The Apostolic Fathers aren’t the only ante-Nicene texts that could do with some sprucing up. And even if one stuck to the Apostolic Fathers, they only have three editions, not 28. Consider Clement of Alexandria, turn of the third century; Sources Chrétiennes lists the following if his texts as not even having someone to work on them: Canon EcclesiasticusHypotyposeis, letters, De pascha, and several fragments. Anatolius of Laodicea (d. 280-90) has no one lined up for De decem primis numeribus. If you had the inclination, you could go through their list and see who else they haven’t finished. There are many. Moreover, just because someone has an edition in Sources Chrétiennes or in the Corpus Christianorum doesn’t mean it’s any good; I heard a rumour about a recent text of something by Origen (which I forget now) being worse than Patrologia Graeca.

And why should we, as scholars, invest in Patristic textual criticism rather than the New Testament? Not only because the New Testament has probably been overanalysed and done to death, but also because knowledge is good. Philology and philosophy and theology and history rest, to a large degree, on the texts we read them in. If those texts are bad, we are missing some of the nuance, some of the beauty, some of the philosophical accuracy, some of the historical detail. Besides that, all those New Testament manuscripts people like to read are contemporary with or later than the Greek Fathers who need work done on them. Codices Vaticanus and Sinaiticus are post-Constantinian. Claromontanus is sixth-century. P45 is from around 250 — so contemporary with Origen and later than Clement of Alexandria. These are the writings and beliefs and ideas of the people who copied out the texts that transmitted the New Testament. Getting to know them and their world should really be part of the same intellectual enterprise as getting to know the New Testament.

And if you’re good enough at Greek and wanting to branch out, maybe give some pre-Christian Hellenistic texts some love. They need it, too.

Or if your Latin is up to it, I know of a few popes who need some work. 😉

Law and Theology in the Middle Ages by G. R. Evans

Law and Theology in the Middle AgesLaw and Theology in the Middle Ages by G.R. Evans
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This book is a readable introduction of a topic that deserves more interest — the relationship between law and theology. After setting the stage by discussing the various definitions needed to address the very questions of ‘law’ and ‘theology’, Evans gives an account that is largely focussed on law in the High Middle Ages, bringing into play certain theological concepts as needed.

An example of the difficulties of definition lies in the fact that the English word law translates both ius and lex, and the Latin iustitia can mean either righteousness or justice. These are important points if we are to attempt to make an entry into how medieval people thought about and practised law. Several other definitions are assessed throughout, with recourse to the Digest of Justinian, Isidore of Seville’s Etymologies, and then the high medieval canonists, decretists, and jurists — Gratian, Anselm of Laon, the Summa ‘Elegantius’. Theologians who give spiritual flesh to the legal thought herein are usually Augustine of Hippo, Anselm of Canterbury, Bernard of Clairvaux, but only one Peter Lombard.

Much of the middle of the book is taken up with a straightforward discussion of legal operation in the Middle Ages. This was very clear and pitched at an introductory level but with constant reference to the primary sources. It is clear that Evans, writing from the perspective of theology and intellectual history, was interested in helping others from her own background gain a grasp of medieval law and its relevance to theology. As a result, we have a very good description of medieval legal process that is tied into the great medieval worldview through the introduction and conclusion.

The only difficulties I had with the book were the references to contemporary English law and procedure. What little I know of modern law is either Canadian (like me) or American (because of TV and movies).

This is a book that opens up what should be a fruitful field of study. Greta Austin has already taken up Evans’ summons in the final chapter of Shaping Church Law Around the Year 1000: The Decretum of Burchard of Worms. No doubt others have and will. I find myself wanting to work backwards from Evans’ starting points — that is, to look at Late Antique canon law and pastoral theology up to Isidore of Seville!

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Prefaces to Canon Law Books in Latin Christianity

Prefaces to Canon Law Books in Latin Christianity: Selected Translations, 500-1245Prefaces to Canon Law Books in Latin Christianity: Selected Translations, 500-1245 by Robert Somerville
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This volume provides an introduction to its overall theme, then selected prefaces to canon law books, divided chronologically. Each chapter provides an introduction to the era covered as well as to the prefaces translated before providing translations. Each translation includes bibliographical detail for you to check the Latin for yourself.

The first chapter treats Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, taking us to around the year 700. The second covers the period from the Carolingians to around 1000. The next chapter is the Era of Reform, 1050-1140, followed by ‘Gratian and the Decretists’, and closing with ‘Papal Decretals and Their Collectors: 1190-1245’.

I read this volume primarily to gain insight into why canon law books were compiled in the Middle Ages. This question finds its variously-phrased answers, but the canonists also discuss how they compiled these books, and what the problems facing them were. The question of why tends to get a combination of ‘everything is confused and the books are hard to use’ and ‘to produce a useful, organised compendium of everything you need to know.’ As canon law grows throughout the Middle Ages, the sources themselves become like a forest; the canonists produce their books to help guide the reader. The utility is mostly for bishops hearing cases or priests hearing confessions, but there is also an idea that an educated layman could learn how live righteously expressed in some of these prefaces (rarely, however).

Different prefaces also discuss the concept of law as well as of procedure. Sometimes they consider what the authorities in canon law were, and whether there is a hierarchy of authorities. Later ones probe the relationship between secular and divine law.

This book is extraordinarily useful and has bibliographical notes throughout. Although a general history of canon law is not its intention, and not its result, it is certainly helpful in this regard, at least in terms of the development of canon law collections as well as of medieval juristic/canonistic thought.

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