Muckross Abbey, Spring 2018 Photos, Part 1

I visited the Muckross Abbey ruins in spring 2018. Muckross Abbey is located in County Kerry, Ireland. On my Instagram @the_mediaeval_monk, some of my followers expressed interest in seeing my old photos of the abbey’s ruins.

I’m splitting the photos up into several blog posts. This is so people can admire Muckross Abbey’s beauty without feeling overwhelmed by the sheer amount of photos in each blog post. (I know I get overwhelmed when I see very big photo dumps! Surely other people are the same, right?)

A Brief History of Muckross Abbey

According to the Killarney National Park website, Muckross Abbey was founded in 1448 by Daniel McCarthy Mor. It was a Franciscan friary. People have been buried in Muckross Abbey’s cemetery for centuries. The cemetery holds Irish chieftains, poets, and local residents. As you’ll see from the photos below, it’s no wonder people want to be buried in such a gorgeous place!


The Ruins of Muckross Abbey from a distance
The Ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) from a distance | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
The ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) from a distance. Also some water. Maybe a pond. (Or was it a stream?) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
Part of Muckross Abbey’s (Co. Kerry, Ireland) ruins. Note the window frame | | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) ruins | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
An old (?) gravestone at Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) ruins. I’m not sure what it says. Comment if you can read it, as I’d love to know who this belongs to | | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) ruins. I took the photo at a funny angle because at the time I felt like it lol. Also with this angle, I was able to capture more in the photo. | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
The ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
The ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
A Memorial in the ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
The ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
A grave at the ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
A tiny slit window looking out into greenery at the ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
The ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
Graves at the ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018
The ruins of Muckross Abbey (Co. Kerry, Ireland) | Source: Viktor Athelstan 2018

Works Cited:

“Muckross Abbey.” Killarney National Park. Accessed April 18, 2022. https://www.killarneynationalpark.ie/visit-us/muckross-abbey/.

Medieval Clerical Celibacy, Part 2: The Religious and Financial Reasons for Chaste Priests

Celibacy was not always a requirement for Catholic priests. From Christianity’s beginnings to the 12th century, clerical wives and families were quite common. However, that didn’t mean the Church didn’t attempt to enforce clerical celibacy. They did. And they tried to do it a lot. You can read my first post about the Church’s attempts to enforce clerical celibacy here

This begs the question, why enforce clerical celibacy in the first place?

A priest baptizing a baby while the mother watches | Ms. 46 (92.MK.92), fol. 41v | Source: The Getty Museum

Why Did Medieval Catholic Reformers Want Priests to Take a Vow of Celibacy?

Like most questions about why people want anything, the answer isn’t a simple one. Reformers had a few reasons for enforcing clerical celibacy. Today’s post will focus on the religious and financial reasons reformers had when advocating for clerical celibacy. 

Religious Reasons For Clerical Celibacy

One argument for clerical celibacy was that priests needed to be pure to uphold sacramental purity. Priests performed holy rituals and held holy items. The only way to maintain that the sacraments had the ritual purity they deserved was to make sure the person performing them was pure as well. Sex is unclean and impure, thus, priests should not have sex. 

Now, I’m sure some readers are indigent about the idea of sex being dirty. Well, sexual uncleanliness isn’t just a ritualistic concept. Practically speaking, it’s reality. There are fluids involved. Would you really want to receive communion from someone who just had sex and possibly didn’t wash their hands that well afterward? 

As clerical marriage was a reality for the first thousand or so years of Christianity, there were practical rules in place to ensure ritual purity. When a priest had sex, he needed to wait a certain amount of time before he could perform sacraments, touch the Eucharist, etc. If he did have sex within the allotted time frame that allowed him to regain his ritual purity, he had to find another priest to say mass for him. 

Medieval priests were on call 24/7, so reformers argued they should be celibate all the time. That way a priest wasn’t scrambling to find someone else to perform Last Rites at 3am because a parishioner is dying and the priest and his partner were having a bit of fun before he received the news someone needed him.

Another religious reason for clerical celibacy was from a moral standpoint. I don’t mean moral in a “sex is bad” way. I mean moral from a “once sex is involved, there’s a greater chance of vile acts occurring.” Reformers were aware priests had a lot of power over their parishioners. Even if a relationship is between two consenting adults, power dynamics make things extremely complicated at best and disgustingly immoral at worst.

(Also we’re talking about the Catholic Church. You know, the institution that’s infamous for the copious amount of sexual abuse cases (some ongoing) that have happened over its 2000 year history. (As a side note, I know some people claim that clerical celibacy causes sexual abuse. To that I say, the average person doesn’t prey on children when they haven’t had sex in a while. I’m extremely suspicious of anyone who says otherwise.))

Financial Reasons For Clerical Celibacy

Sacramental purity wasn’t the only reason for clerical celibacy. Like with most rules people make, money is usually a factor. And clerical celibacy was no different.

Generally speaking, when a man and a woman marry (or are just not celibate with each other) there’s a good chance of babies happening. In an era with not super reliable birth control (though it did exist) babies happened a lot. 

That, combined with the fact medieval masculinity depended on how many children you had and the Christian view married couples should only have sex to conceive a child (Note: in theory, medieval Christians followed this. In practice they didn’t.), meant some priests had a lot of children. 

Babies are expensive. 

And so is educating children and finding good dowries and making sure your children can financially support themselves as adults. For medieval clerical sons, the priesthood was a family business. Priests, especially ones in positions of power such as bishops and archbishops, sought to make sure their sons inherited their prebends and benefices.

In short, priests used Church money to support their families. Reformers did not like this.

Reformers also did not particularly like priests spending lots of Church money on their wives/concubines/girlfriends. They claimed priests “create public spectacles by taking their women, decked out lavishly in fine clothing and jewels, to weddings and to church” (Thibodeaux 30). 

(Of course, the extent of how bad this supposed “lavishing” was could very well have been exaggerated by reformers in certain situations. I’m sure some priests spent too much money buying their partners nice gifts and I’m also sure other priests could have put in a bit more effort making sure their partners had something nicer than what they currently own. In situations like these, there wouldn’t be one absolute that applied to every single English/Norman Catholic priest from the beginning of Christianity to when priests actually started following the reforms.)

By lavishing their special lady friends with expensive things, reformers thought priests were paying more attention and in a sense worshiping women more than the church they were supposed to serve. I will go more into the medieval gender implications for priests “serving” women in my next blog post where I’ll discuss the gender-based reasons for and against clerical celibacy. 

Source:

Thibodeaux, Jennifer D. The Manly Priest Clerical Celibacy, Masculinity, and Reform in England and Normandy, 1066-1300. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015.

Part 2: Historia Calamitatum: Including Comments Whenever I Think Abelard is Insufferable

Last year I started reading Henry Adams Bellows’ translation of Peter Abelard’s Historia Calamitatum: The Story Of My Misfortunes. I found Abelard so insufferable I could barely get through the book, so I started writing a commentary on it. I kind of forgot about this project, so I never finished writing the commentary. However, I did comment up to around chapter six. I might go back to working on it.

If you want to read the first part, you can find that here. I recommend reading that section first as it gives some context to how I formatted my commentary.

Chapter 2 Of The Persecution He Had From His Master William Of Champeaux—Of His Adventures At Melun, At Corbeil And At Paris—Of His Withdrawal From The City Of The Parisians To Melun, And His Return To Mont Ste. Geneviève—Of His Journey To His Old Home

Based on this chapter title alone I know this one is about to be a doozy!

I came at length to Paris, where above all in those days the art of dialectics was most flourishing, and there did I meet William of Champeaux, my teacher, a man most distinguished in his science both by his renown and by his true merit.

Okay, at least you are praising someone other than yourself.

With him I remained for some time, at first indeed well liked of him; but later I brought him great grief, because I undertook to refute certain of his opinions,[…]

Ope. There it is.

[…]not infrequently attacking him in disputation, and now and then in these debates I was adjudged victor.

You sound like a delight to teach, Mr. Pretentious. Though I’ll give you points for admitting you weren’t always the winner.

Also I wonder if I can insert the eye roll emoji here…

Now this, to those among my fellow students who were ranked foremost, seemed all the more insufferable because of my youth and the brief duration of my studies.

Yeah, I don’t think they were the insufferable ones Pierre.

Out of this sprang the beginning of my misfortunes, which have followed me even to the present day; the more widely my fame was spread abroad, the more bitter was the envy that was kindled against me.

Christ, you are full of yourself!

It was given out that I, presuming on my gifts far beyond the warranty of my youth, was aspiring despite my tender, years to the leadership of a school;[…]

The wording here is kind of awkward but I think he’s trying to say that he wants to run his own school despite the fact he’s still pretty young? A good enough goal I guess. And at least he’s somewhat self-aware he’s too young to do that. (How old is he though?)

[…]nay, more, that I was making read the very place in which I would undertake this task, […]

Never mind about him being self-aware. I am a fool for giving him too much credit.

[…]the place being none other than the castle of Melun, at that time a royal seat. My teacher himself had some foreknowledge of this, and tried to remove my school as far as possible from his own.

I wonder if the teacher does this to avoid competition or because he just can’t stand Pierre. (It’s funnier if I call Abélard by his first name. I don’t know why.)

Working in secret, he sought in every way he could before I left his following to bring to nought the school I had planned and the place I had chosen for it.

That’s super petty and I kind of love it.

Since, however, in that very place he had many rivals, and some of them men of influence among the great ones of the land, relying on their aid I won to the fulfillment of my wish; the support of many was secured for me by reason of his own unconcealed envy.

Sooo…people are only supporting you because they hate your teacher (William?). Not because of your own merit? Not a thing to be bragging about Friendo.

From this small inception of my school, my fame in the art of dialectics began to spread abroad,[…]

*Eye Roll*

Very humble of you.

 […]so that little by little the renown, not alone of those who had been my fellow students, but of our very teacher himself, grew dim and was like to die out altogether.

Your arrogance is amazing and I fear it will only get worse. Christ on a bike, how more boastful can you get???

Also putting others down isn’t a good look.

Thus it came about that, still more confident in myself, […]

Oh, I have no doubt you are confident in yourself!

I moved my school as soon as I well might to the castle of Corbeil, which is hard by the city of Paris, for there I knew there would be given more frequent chance for my assaults in our battle of disputation.

So dramatic!

No long time thereafter I was smitten with a grievous illness, brought upon me by my immoderate zeal for study.

Okay, I can relate regarding over working yourself. Take care of your mental health readers!

This illness forced me to turn homeward to my native province, and thus for some years I was as if cut off from France.

Aren’t you still in France? Pierre, you are from France. Or did your nervous breakdown affect you so much that you were in a dissociative state? If so, that’s rough and this is the first time so far I feel kind of bad for you.

And yet, for that very reason, I was sought out all the more eagerly by those whose hearts were troubled by the lore of dialectics.

I no longer feel bad for you.

But after a few years had passed, and I was whole again from my sickness, I learned that my teacher, that same William Archdeacon of Paris, had changed his former garb and joined an order of the regular clergy. This he had done, or so men said, in order that he might be deemed more deeply religious, and so might be elevated to a loftier rank in the prelacy, a thing which, in truth, very soon came to pass, for he was made bishop of Châlons.

While I do not doubt people tried to seem more religious to get a higher place in the church, I can’t help but think Pierre is either projecting here or gossiping about William because he does not like him/thinks he’s better than him.

Nevertheless, the garb he had donned by reason of his conversion did nought to keep him away either from the city of Paris or from his wonted study of philosophy; and in the very monastery wherein he had shut himself up for the sake of religion he straightway set to teaching again after the same fashion as before.

To him did I return, for I was eager to learn more of rhetoric from his lips; and in the course of our many arguments on various matters, I compelled him by most potent reasoning first to alter his former opinion on the subject of the universals, and finally to abandon it altogether.

Bragging, bragging, bragging!

Now, the basis of this old concept of his regarding the reality of universal ideas was that the same quality formed the essence alike of the abstract whole and of the individuals which were its parts: in other words, that there could be no essential differences among these individuals, all being alike save for such variety as might grow out of the many accidents of existence. Thereafter, however, he corrected this opinion, no longer maintaining that the same quality was the essence of all things, but that, rather, it manifested itself in them through diverse ways. This problem of universals is ever the most vexed one among logicians, to such a degree, indeed, that even Porphyry, writing in his “Isagoge” regarding universals, dared not attempt a final pronouncement thereon, saying rather: “This is the deepest of all problems of its kind.” Wherefore it followed that when William had first revised and then finally abandoned altogether his views on this one subject, his lecturing sank into such a state of negligent reasoning that it could scarce be called lecturing on the science of dialectics at all; […]

We are throwing lots of shade here!

[…]it was as if all his science had been bound up in this one question of the nature of universals.

Thus it came about that my teaching won such strength and authority that even those who before had clung most vehemently to my former master, and most bitterly attacked my doctrines, now flocked to my school.

Braggy McBragerson.

The very man who had succeeded to my master’s chair in the Paris school offered me his post, in order that he might put himself under my tutelage along with all the rest, and this in the very place where of old his master and mine had reigned.

Christ on a bike, I am starting to get Mary Sue vibes from Pierre here! But yes, go on about how so amazing and fantastic you are that the chair of the school quit so he could learn under you.

If this were a work of fiction, I would call BS on this plot point. Heck, I might do that anyway! You ARE a very unreliable narrator after all. (At least those are the vibes I am getting!)

And when, in so short a time, my master saw me directing the study of dialectics there, it is not easy to find words to tell with what envy he was consumed or with what pain he was tormented.

He was probably mad an arrogant, annoying little jerk raised the ranks so fast. You are quite annoying Pierre.

He could not long, in truth, bear the anguish of what he felt to be his wrongs, and shrewdly he attacked me that he might drive me forth.

I doubt it’s because he thinks he’s wrong!

And because there was nought in my conduct whereby he could come at me openly, he tried to steal away the school by launching the vilest calumnies against him who had yielded his post to me, and by putting in his place a certain rival of mine.

You just love making enemies wherever you go, don’t you? Here’s a word of advice: if you run into one jerk in the morning, you met one jerk. But if you run into jerks all day, you are the jerk. And you seem to be running into a lot of them lately.

So then I returned to Melun, and set up my school there as before; and the more openly his envy pursued me, the greater was the authority it conferred upon me.

* Eye roll *

Even so held the poet: “Jealousy aims at the peaks; the winds storm the loftiest summits.” (Ovid: “Remedy for Love,” I, 369.)

I didn’t think you could get more pretentious, but here we are!

Not long thereafter, when William became aware of the fact that almost all his students were holding grave doubts as to his religion, and were whispering earnestly among themselves about his conversion, deeming that he had by no means abandoned this world,[…]

Fine, I’ll (reluctantly) give you that. William’s actions (even if I do not think he’s doing it because of envy. I think he’s doing it because he’s sick of your nonsense and thinks you need to be taken down a peg or ten) are NOT very monk like AT ALL. He certainly has not abandoned the world!

[…]he withdrew himself and his brotherhood, together with his students, to a certain estate far distant from the city. Forthwith I returned from Melun to Paris, hoping for peace from him in the future.

I kind of hope you never get peace from this guy.

But since, as I have said, he had caused my place to be occupied by a rival of mine, I pitched the camp, as it were, of my school outside the city on Mont Ste. Geneviève. Thus I was as one laying siege to him who had taken possession of my post.

I feel kind of bad for this rival. He probably just wanted a job or something. Then again, the world of academia can be ruthless. (It’s like a toned down version of Game of Thrones!)

No sooner had my master heard of this than he brazenly returned post haste to the city,[…]

William is NOT acting particularly monk-like. Then again, based on the primary sources I’ve read, medieval monks were some of the pettiest people in the world. lol

Also I can imagine William getting SO MAD when he hears that Pierre has returned and is making that return everyone’s problem.

[…]bringing back with him such students as he could, and reinstating his brotherhood in their for mer monastery, […]

Some grammatical errors on the part of the original translator?

[…]much as if he would free his soldiery, whom he had deserted, from my blockade.

Not sure if you are being literal here with the military references but I guess it makes sense to use “soldiery” and “blockade” metaphorically as you do come from a military family. (One reason why I don’t believe Death Of The Author is a valid form of literary criticism! The author’s life will ALWAYS have an effect on their writing!)

In truth, though, if it was his purpose to bring them succour, he did nought but hurt them. Before that time my rival had indeed had a certain number of students, of one sort and another, chiefly by reason of his lectures on Priscian, in which he was considered of great authority. After our master had returned, however, he lost nearly all of these followers, and thus was compelled to give up the direction of the school.

Oof.

Not long thereafter, apparently despairing further of worldly fame, he was converted to the monastic life.

I wonder if he was actually devastated about losing those followers or if he just had a monastic calling. I am reading this with the impression that our good friend Pierre is a HIGHLY unreliable narrator so it could be either or. Though I suppose losing everything would make one want to run away to a monastery. (That is what we in the writing business call foreshadowing, kids!)

Joining a monastery whenever you suffer even the slightest inconvenience in life comes up a lot in literature in general. (Not just medieval lit!) That’s one reason why chapter 58 of The Rule of Saint Benedict makes it so difficult for adults to join the monastic life!

Following the return of our master to the city, the combats in disputation which my scholars waged both with him himself and with his pupils, and the successes which fortune gave to us, and above all to me,[…]

Yup. It’s definitely all about Pierre. I guess I’ll give you points for PRETENDING like this is not just your own personal victory. (But only half a point as you make it incredibly obvious this is only about you!)

[…]in these wars, you have long since learned of through your own experience.

Are you addressing Jesus here? Or the reader?

The boast of Ajax, though I speak it more temperately, I still am bold enough to make:

When were you NOT bold?

      “… if fain you would learn now
       How victory crowned the battle, by him was
         I never vanquished.”
               (Ovid, “Metamorphoses,” XIII, 89.)

Pretentious and arrogant!

But even were I to be silent,[…]

I think your head would explode if you even TRIED to be quiet. In fact, I don’t think it was physically possible for you to shut up.

[…]the fact proclaims itself, and its outcome reveals the truth regarding it.

While these things were happening, it became needful for me again to repair to my old home, by reason of my dear mother, Lucia, for after the conversion of my father, Berengarius, to the monastic life, she so ordered her affairs as to do likewise. When all this had been completed, I returned to France, […]

WAIT. Shoot, I forgot that at this time Brittany was not a part of France. Okay, disregard my comments on the top of page 13 about Pierre being a native of France. Whenever I look him up, the articles say he’s French. (Which is true now. Whoops.)

[…]above all in order that I might study theology, since now my oft-mentioned teacher, William, was active in the episcopate of Châlons. In this held of learning Anselm of Laon, who was his teacher therein, had for long years enjoyed the greatest renown.

Medieval Clerical Celibacy, Part 1: The Start, Hypocrisy, and Attempts at Reform

NOTE: This post is shorter and a bit sillier in tone than what I normally write.

In my last post, I discussed monastic masculinity versus secular masculinity. To summarize, monastic masculinity was basically the Church’s way of saying “being celibate is cool and masculine you guys, we swear!!!”

For centuries, convincing secular priests celibacy was super cool, holy, desirable, and something they should start doing right this second was a losing battle. So how exactly did the Catholic Church convince their priests to embrace celibacy? To fully understand the process, we have to start at the beginning of Christianity.

A Priest Celebrating Mass | Ms. Ludwig IX 5 (83.ML.101), fol. 171 | Source: The Getty Museum

Clerical Celibacy’s Beginnings

From the beginning of Christianity, secular priests (meaning they weren’t monks so they didn’t take a vow of chastity) could and often did get married. The third century Church suggested priests should be chaste. After all, priests handled the Eucharist. It wasn’t exactly a good look to touch something so holy with unclean hands. However, in the third century clerical celibacy was more of a suggestion than a mandate.

Then in the fourth century, the Council of Elvira occurred. The Council of Elvira is notable as it was the first time the Church mandated clerical celibacy. As it was a local council, it didn’t have widespread authority. It had some influence because other councils/synods started mandating clerical celibacy too.

Between the fourth and tenth centuries, many more local councils mandated clerical celibacy. So there was some effort to stop clerical marriage. However, a lot of the rules came from local councils/synods so they didn’t have widespread authority. 

Based on the number of times the church made the rule “priests can’t marry” it’s pretty obvious that a majority of priests went “how about we do anyway?” It didn’t help that a lot of the Church’s efforts to actually enforce the no marriage rules were pretty lackluster. (Think Willy Wonka going “no. Stop. Come back.”) 

The Hypocrisy of Enforcing Clerical Celibacy

So why didn’t the Church enforce all the rules they made?

One reason was that many bishops and archbishops (AKA the people who enforced rules) were married. Clerical celibacy was already an unpopular reform. If you want people to follow an unpopular rule and you break that rule, people won’t follow it. After all, if it’s okay for the bishops and archbishops to get married, why can’t priests?

The Church Gets Serious (Sort Of)

Things changed around the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Now Church became serious about enforcing clerical celibacy. This change was partially due to more monastic priests gaining higher positions in the church. 

Punishments for non-celibate priests included:

  • Fines
  • Excommunication 
  • Losing his benefice 

That being said, some reformers didn’t actually give priests punishments. Married priests could go years with constant slaps on the wrist before they received a serious punishment.

Source:

Thibodeaux, Jennifer D. The Manly Priest Clerical Celibacy, Masculinity, and Reform in England and Normandy, 1066-1300. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015.

Medieval Monastic Masculinity vs. Medieval Secular Masculinity

NOTE: Due to personal reasons today’s blog post is shorter than normal. This is a topic I may revisit in the future.

When it came to image and public relations regarding masculinity, medieval monks knew they had a bit of a problem on their hands. See, monks were not exactly considered masculine by the secular population. The pinnacle of masculinity in early Medieval English and post-conquest secular culture was to be a good warrior and have lots of children.

Horsemen Meeting an Abbot and Two Monks at a Monastery | Ms. Ludwig XV 9 (83.MR.179), fol. 186v | Source: The Getty Museum

Monks on the other hand didn’t fight and didn’t have sex. (Well, theoretically. In reality plenty of monks got physical with others, whether it was through punching, stabbing, or other means.) 

Because monks were not supposed to do either of those things, they created a new type of masculinity for themselves. Medieval monastic masculinity valued self-control in all forms. Masculine monks were disciplined when it came to their gluttony, anger, ambition, and of course, lust. 

Celibacy meant you controlled your body, mind, and soul. However, when secular society values a man’s virility, saying chastity is definitely super manly is a hard sell. Monastic leaders developed a lot of arguments about the manliness of chastity. 

I think my favorite argument is that it’s feminine to have sex. And they weren’t just talking about same-sex copulation. Reformers tried to say that a man sleeping with a woman made him feminine too. (It definitely reminds me of the “Fellas Is It Gay?” meme!)

Source:

Thibodeaux, Jennifer D. The Manly Priest Clerical Celibacy, Masculinity, and Reform in England and Normandy, 1066-1300. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2015.