During my third-year special subject module on sixth-century Merovingian Gaul , I encountered the Late Antique holy man. In this post, I aim to discuss some of the scholarship around this type of religious person. In particular, I will raise my personal thoughts and some of the issues that I believe still need to be addressed.
To understand the contemporary debate around the Late Antique holy man, one first needs to take into account the importance of Peter Brown’s scholarly contributions on the topic. In his 1971 article The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity, Brown noted scholars had previously provided three main explanations for the emergence of this religious and miraculous figure. Firstly, some have argued the holy man arose as the product of the oppression and conflict found in Eastern Roman society, in particular among the lower classes. Secondly, by looking at ascetic literature, others had demonstrated the feelings and emotions the holy man could arouse. Finally, the holy man could also be seen to represent the dilution of the ‘enlightened’ ideas of the elites among the masses.
Brown provided an alternative answer to the holy man. In particular, he used the context of Late Antique Syria for his explanation. Particular factors allowed the emergence of a religious figure that could act as a mediator or patron for rural settlements. For example, peasant life in Syria was seasonal and fluid; allowing news of a holy man to spread quickly. In turn, this increased his following. Meanwhile, the fact that the desert in Syria was closer to settlement, meant that holy men could live like ‘true’ hermits. In the harsher conditions of Egypt, one would have been forced to take on some of the habits of urban areas, but this was not necessarily the case in Syria. Furthermore, many villages in fourth and fifth century Syria were going through a crisis of leadership due to increased prosperity in rural life.
Within this context, rural Syrian villages were in need of a patron. As Brown puts it ‘villagers needed a hinge-man, a man who belonged to the outside world’; one who could place his know-how, cultures and values at the disposal of a settlement. The holy man could perform numerous functions, including mediating between disputes and acting as a platform to express religious anxieties. Therefore, a rough definition of the Late Antique holy man might allude to individuals who acted as a mediators or patrons for settlements through the language of religion and miracle.
While Brown puts emphasis on Syria for their origin, holy men were also found elsewhere in the Late Antique world. At this point, it is necessary to introduce another issue; were holy men different in the Western Mediterranean in contrast to the Eastern Mediterranean? One of the most common ideas is that holy men tended to be dead when performing their functions in the West, but in the East they were generally alive. For example, Corbett when applying Brown’s ideas to Merovingian Gaul almost exclusively focuses on the cults of dead saints. On the other hand, some scholars have been keen to undermine the East/West binary regarding holy men. Petersen notes ‘a rigid distinction cannot be drawn between the living holy man as healer in Eastern Christendom and the dead man healing from his tomb in the West’. Brown, himself, comments on the more general issue of seeing the East and Western Mediterranean as separate from each other; ‘nothing has done more to handicap our understanding of Mediterranean history in the medieval period than the tendency of scholars to treat Byzantium as a world apart’. Yet, when reading these, I still sense there is a sense of hesitation when trying to reduce or dismiss any differences. Petersen, for example, still states that in Gregory of Tours’ Life of the Fathers , the living holy man still takes second place. Therefore, while a range of scholarship has addressed this issue quite in depth, I feel there is a need for further discussion.
However, even if we understand that holy men, dead or alive, played an important role with regards to patronage and mediation in Late Antique communities, we are still left with another question. How did holy men perform their function? The most persuasive models take an anthropological and psychosomatic approach. By using these terms I mean several things. Brown provides a useful example, the idea of an individual being possessed is a way of understanding and communicating social disruptive behaviour through the language of religion. Van Dam has done some of the most significant work, for him ‘in Merovingian Gaul, people’s attitudes towards diseases were intimately concerned with community and individual’s values as with physical sickness and disability’. Therefore, if a person became ill, they may have or may not have a illness in reality, but they and their community certainly thought they did have one. An individual with an illness was likely excluded from society until a holy man reintegrated them through a healing.
I feel approaches like these can explain a lot, but certainly not all instances of healings or actions carried out by holy men. I will now raise some of the issues I have with models like these. Firstly, I find it problematic how easily the actual physical healings are often casually dismissed. Corbett states that many of the deeds in Gregory of Tours’ works do not have a miraculous element, while scholars like Van Dam allow room for the role of medicines and herbs contemporary to Late Antiquity. Therefore, when Monegundis in the Life of the Fathers heals a boy with poisonous snakes within him, by pressing a leaf with saliva on against his belly, I may be willing to accept that the boy may have genuinely been healed using traditional techniques (whether the use of ‘snakes’ is a just a textual metaphor used by Gregory or how the illness was genuinely experienced is another question). However, I find it more difficult to accept physical healings which do not have a known medical solution today. For example, those curing blindness or severe paralysis. Maybe, I am overthinking or burdened with presentism and the trappings of modernity, but I feel there is a still a need to address healings like these without resorting to the cynical ‘they just made it up’ attitude. Van Dam does emphasise his discussion ‘is not directly concerned with sickness and disability as physical afflictions’, but I still feel we cannot simply ignore the physical aspect of healings carried out by holy men.
Holy men also acted as mediators or patrons in other ways. Rapp has noted that Brown also developed the notion of the holy man as an exemplar or role model and as an intercessor in the heart of a community in which social ties are understood in terms of spiritual kinship. Hayward is more cynical about the impact of holy men on communities. For example. he argues that the idea of holy man as an exemplar is usually a literary topos. Texts, according to Hayward, rarely offer any idea of how an individual is supposed to imitate them. This criticism has a degree of strength, but I still personally think there is still a lot to gain by taking a more anthropological approach.The role of the holy man in Gallic and other Late Antique communities was of major importance in terms of maintaining or creating harmony. This can firstly be seen by some of the discussion above. However, I think the social role of the holy man can be expanded a bit further and perhaps even linked to Halsall’s work on the life cycle and social organisation in Merovingian Gaul. He describes grave goods as symbolic ‘texts’ through which information can be transferred, with their importance increased if a death caused a particularly break in social cohesion.. If we accept that the holy man had an important role in local communities as well, we can at least make tentative connections between the wider literature on Late Antique social organisation and the scholarship on holy men.
Several examples from Gregory of Tours’ writings can be used to support this idea. I use the term ‘rupture’ here to denote any time a community’s harmony is threatened, which is usually through a defiance of social norm or a breakage in the life cycle. In The Life of the Fathers, social tension emerges when Nicetius’ will is read out aloud in public. A priest swells with rage because Nicetius left nothing to the church in the place where he was buried. However, Nicetius appears and criticises the priest and in turn he receives a swollen throat. In this instance, a death or more precisely a will caused disharmony, but the idea of the cult of saints and its psychosomatic effect helped to resolve tension caused by these events. In the Histories, a relative of Guntram Boso’s wife dies childless (again an event which was threatening). The relative is buried with treasure and also placed in a church near Metz, the latter and its associated ‘holy man’ offers protection when servants of Boso tries to steal treasure from the burial.
However, the ability of holy men, alive or dead, to smooth tensions should not just be restricted to death. Monegundis is as ever a useful example to illustrate how social ruptures could be negotiated through the concept of the holy person. Monegundis, following the death of her children, effectively transgresses a number of boundaries. She abandons her husband, relations and friends. If someone defies social norms, Gregory is not bothered, so long as they go onto perform holy or miraculous acts. Monegundis’ acts are not as harmful to the community as they could have been because of her sanctity. Leobardus offers another case where being holy could paint over instances which otherwise would be socially disruptive. At the age of legal majority and following custom, he is betrothed, but once his parents pass away he abandons the world in order to serve God. It is critical to emphasise here that Leobardus is effectively abandoning an alliance, likely created to manage relations within a particular community. By becoming holy, an excuse is effectively created by those involved, but also by Gregory for his later purposes. This excuse helps to mend any harm that might have been done. By noting down these thoughts, I do not aim to offer a complete model with rules and regulations. Instead, I am simply stating my belief that more needs to be done to link the concept of the holy man to other factors affecting social organisation in Merovingian Gaul and the rest of the Late Antique world.
This post has summarised some of the key issues regarding holy men in Late Antiquity. However, there is still a lot of room for further discussion and I have stated some of the directions it could follow.
Bibliography:
Primary Sources:
Gregory of Tours, Histories translated by Lewis Thorpe in The History of the Franks. London: Penguin, 1974.
Gregory of Tours, The Life of the Fathers translated by Edward James in Gregory of Tours: Life of the Fathers. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1998.
Secondary Sources:
Brown, Peter. Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989.
Brown, Peter. “The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity.” The Journal of Roman Studies 61 (1971): 80-101.
Corbett, John H. “Praesentium signorum munera: The Cult of the Saints in the World of Gregory of Tours.” Florilegium 5 (1983): 44-61.
———. “The Saint as Patron in the Work of Gregory of Tours.” Journal of Medieval History 7, no. 1 (1981/01/01 1981): 1-13.
Halsall, Guy. Cemeteries and Society in Merovingian Gaul : Selected Studies in History and Archaelogy, 1992-2009. Leiden: Brill, 2010.
Hayward, Paul. “Demystifying the Role of Sanctity in Western Christendom” in The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages: Essays on the Contribution of Peter Brown, edited by James Howard-Johnson and Paul Hayward, 115-142. Oxford: Oxford University, 1999.
Petersen, Joan M. “Dead or Alive? The Holy Man as Healer in East and West in the Late Sixth Century.” Journal of Medieval History 9, no. 2 (1983): 91-98.
Rapp, Claudia. “For next to God, you are my salvation’: Reflections on the Rise of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity” in The Cult of Saints in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages: Essays on the Contribution of Peter Brown, edited by James Howard-Johnson and Paul Hayward, 63-82. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.
