In my final assessment after finishing Margery Kemp’s story, I respect her desire to carve out a new position in society, and her sometimes violent sobbing plays a key role to that end. At a time when women are expected to be silent and subordinate, Margery publicly makes a spectacle of herself causing those who witness her behavior to question her motives. They often wonder if this is evidence of the devil’s possession. Others understand God’s presence in her soul and offer her full support. In this way, Margery draws attention to her piety as commanded by God, dramatically demonstrating how to best serve him, drawing also the support of the clergy for her behavior.
Centuries later, I too question the nature of God’s “dalliance” in her soul although, unlike the people of her time, I do not believe her to be possessed by evil. Granted, to support her fully means that I would have to believe in Christianity myself. Since I am more prone to believe common aspects shared by all religions rather than the rules of one alone, I must speak hypothetically in my support for her, grounding my ideas solely in the context of her environment.
Margery’s story is compelling in that I don’t believe she has the choice of whether or not to cry. Fully moved by the life of Christ, her remorse for sins against him, and her concern for the fate of all souls in eternity, she is truly pained. This is not unlike my personal experience of reading Toni Morrison’s Beloved and Dee Brown’s Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee in the same week I rented Anne Frank: The Whole Story. Heavy in heart, I too sobbed the night through for the sins of mankind. For Margery to focus on the life of Christ, his mother Mary, Mary Magdalene, the Apostles and all the saints might find its result in distraction or numbness over time, but she keeps these feelings alive and uses them to further grow in love for her heavenly father. The greater her love grows, the more her tears flow.
Beyond her personal reasons for crying, God tells her he has his own agenda as well. He thanks her for making herself worthy and for allowing him to work his will through her, (153) claiming her tears as his gift to her. Even in the moments when Margery pleads with God to ease her public sobbing so as to not annoy her parishioners, nor to be cast away from the sermons she takes such pleasure in, God refuses her request. According to him, to give her the great gift of understanding which causes her to weep this way, Margery becomes the example by which to emulate. When asked why she sobs so, she wonders in return how people could know the suffering of Christ or his mother’s great loss and not be moved to weep. To Margery and God, suffering for Christ in return for what he suffered for humanity is the most worshipful act. In the moments God does withhold tears from her, Margery learns that her heart is quiet in understanding. Realizing the true gift that understanding brings, she wishes it returned to her, regardless of the crying it evokes.
Margery’s gift draws much scorn among the people in her hometown and along her pilgrimages, but this scorn is welcomed by her. To Margery, suffering for God’s will is penance for her sins against him, for which she is truly remorseful even after they are forgiven. The more that people curse her, the more she feels closer to having paid a price for her wrong doings. In welcoming chastising remarks, Margery’s humility pleases God, setting yet another example that God’s will is the only way, regardless of what actions earthly men and women demand. Because she is so willing to pay her penance on Earth, Margery is promised the full reward of an ease in death and prompt entry into Heaven without first visiting Purgatory. She feels that this eternal reward is well worth the hardships she experiences on Earth.
I find Margery to be exemplary in living a selfless life. While she has her bouts with God at times in order to satisfy her own way, she always succumbs to his will. The ending of her first book is interesting, as God thanks her for writing in order that “many a man shall turn to me and believe therein” (157). This is obviously what Margery had in mind. While I am unsure whether I believe any more now than I did before, I certainly find myself raising questions. In an attempt to understand her tears, her reason for them becomes clearer and the possibility of God’s work through her more believable. She is brave to withstand the criticism she receives as well as the truly dangerous positions of imprisonment, thievery, rape, and death which she often encounters along her pilgrimages. The more difficult her journey, the more her faith is proven in a God that is very real and personal to her, a God she hopes will be as real to her reader as well.
Of coure, she could just have a tumor.
Medieval scholar, Yvonne Kendall, offered greater insight than the classroom text into the connection between Hildegard and her music. To say that music was important to Hildegard scarcely glosses the depths to which it affected her everyday life. As we know from her first letter to Bernard, she refers to the “sound” of God, meaning not only his voice as he speaks his word but, just as importantly, the divine way in which the Lord and his angels express themselves through music. As Hildegard often develops complex philosophies surrounding her visions, theology, and remedies as they exist in nature, she accepts as fact that music, at once, binds the soul with understanding and faith. In essence, this is the glue that unifies the body, faith, and senses of humanity directly with God.
The importance of her music was commonly understood among those who knew Hildegard. We have learned how her refusal to exhume the excommunicated and repentant foot soldier buried in the monastery’s cemetery was the impetus for banning musical prayer. We also know how profoundly this punishment afflicted her with depression. Interestingly, Yvonne Kendall offered fresh insight into Hildegard’s appeal to her abbot’s superiors. Rather ingeniously, Hildegard used the denial of her music to register with those who suppressed her. She strongly suggested that to continue this restriction, neglecting to abandon the orders to exhume nor to acknowledge the foot soldier’s commitment to and heavenly bond with God, may lead them to a place where they would never again hear the heavenly choirs of angels. This crafty reference obviously made a grand impression upon Hildegard’s superiors. The ban was immediately lifted allowing her monastery once more to rejoice in song.
While Hildegard is duly credited with the composition of her music, this recognition was never intended for her own glorification. In fact, music was written for the benefit of monastic services not available to the public and was generally not signed because it was believed to belong to God, not the composer. The shear volume of Hildegard’s music that still survives today is attributed to her popularity as a traveling speaker, healer and consultant, and to the journals in which she documented her works for her own use. Coming from outside sources, it is important to mention that Hildegard had not made personal claim of her credit. She humbly believed that her music was a gift from God and the glory belonged to him.
Aside from attributed credit, the greatest indication of Hildegard’s compositions was her unique style for the time. To compare her powerful emphasis on certain lyrics with the more even tones of the Gregorian monks, Hildegard moves far beyond the trend of her day. Her expansive use of musical scales did not become common tradition until 4 centuries beyond her time. This dramatic effect of stretching lyrics through a series of ascending or descending notes placed a new importance on interpreting the meaning behind the lyrics. This technique was perceived as dangerous because, unlike the tradition of reading prose and explaining its meaning, music lent a level of emotion and uncontrolled emphasis at the will of the performer, not the church.
Hildegard was aware, not only of the importance of song, but of the components of what made up that song. The instruments of the day included the recorder, vielle, organ, harp and bagpipes. All were comprised of natural elements using wood for structure and animal organs for the bellows. This too demonstrates how every aspect of music joins God and his every creation. This inclusive concept was one Hildegard commonly used to push beyond the negative societal perceptions of women.
As seen in her correspondence, the Scivias, and particular visions depicting the egg as fertility blessed by the fire of God and the soul residing – fully formed by the eyes of God – within the womb of a pregnant woman, Hildegard believed that women should be cherished for all they had to offer humanity. Her music provided yet another avenue to reinforce this idea. Her lyrics were comprised of references to the mother and child relationship between not only the Christ child and Mary, but also to earthly family relationships. Additionally, music as it existed in her morality plays can be thought of as the great equalizer. Hildegard awards God and the monastic nuns, those enacting the roles of the virtues and the soul, roles of song while only Satan is restricted to the spoken word. This arrangement of instrumental music and lyrical message demonstrates for Hildegard how God connects with all of his creation, Satan being the only exclusion from his holy realm and song.
Performing Hildegard’s music today requires interpretation much as it did when she was alive. Because timing was not indicated by beats and measures as it is now, the music is driven by lyrical cadence alone. Hildegard documented only the lyrics and vocal portion of the composition allowing for less structured instrumental interpretation, perhaps leaving room for God?s inspiration to move the musicians. Musicians today combine both their knowledge of trends known to have existed then and the written record of the vocals to create the most probable feeling of the music, overcoming the impossibility of replicating an exact rendition. It is in this way we are able to enjoy the musical compositions and message of Hildegard at present, joining not only the soul, senses, faith and God, but also bridging the gap between centuries of time as Hildegard believed God’s message is for all time.
Hrotsvitha and Hildegard Deliver Women into Light
In Karen Christina Lang’s Essay, “Images of Women in Early Buddhism and Christian Gnosticism,” she explores myths on the fall of humanity from texts written in the 3rd Century B.C.E. These myths associate women’s fertility with the Earth’s abundance and, according to Lang, this correlation is what gives rise to the idea that the feminine, as analogous to the earth, contains all that is lacking enlightenment, including “darkness, corporality and impurity” (Lang 103). Consequently, in early Buddhist and Gnostic faiths, the path to enlightenment requires denying the body’s appetite for earthly fruits, both material and sexual, in order to achieve the state of “maleness” associated with meditative trance (Lang 99). Earthly and corporeal filth is to be renounced by both genders, although these characteristics are typically referred to as embodied by the feminine, thus allowing for the spiritual attainment of each sex (Lang 103). The lasting effects of this philosophy are evident in the lives and writings of Hrotsvitha of Gandersheim, the first recorded female playwright from the 10th Century, and Hildegard of Bingen, a 12th Century Abbess. Through the writings of their time, Hrotsvitha and Hildegard address the literal perception of this symbolic philosophy as described by Lang, and through discourse with their respective audiences they are able to challenge humanity’s gender-specific interpretation of spirituality.
In prefacing her plays, Hrotsvitha acknowledges the perceived inferiority of her womanhood in terms that challenge the validity of the applied negative connotation. Specifically in “Epistle of the Same to Certain Scholars,” a preface to her plays offering gratitude for her acceptance into a male dominated realm of writing, Hrotsvitha says, “To think that you … should have deigned to approve the humble work of an obscure woman! You have, however, not praised me but the Giver of the grace which works in me … admitting that I possess some little knowledge of those arts the subtleties of which exceed the grasp of my woman’s mind.” (Hrotsvitha, Epistle) To claim her work as hers alone would lead to rejection on the basis that she is a woman. In an effort to circumvent the gender barrier, Hrotsvitha lends credibility to her craft by renouncing any personal credit for the talent she possesses. She instead attributes her meager knowledge and skill to a gift from the highest power, that of God, placing her accomplishments in the only light her audience could accept. The claim that God endowed this woman with scholarly ability had the power to persuade her male audience into accepting her favorably, as proven by the existence of her texts today.
Hrotsvitha expounds on this recognition of externally obtained knowledge by crediting learned men from whom she borrowed thoughts and ideas. She explains:
I have been at pains, whenever I have been able to pick up some threads and scraps torn from the old mantle of philosophy, to weave them into the stuff of my own book, in the hope that my lowly ignorant effort may gain more acceptance through the introduction of something of a nobler strain, and that the Creator of genius may be more honored since it is generally believed that a woman’s intelligence is slower. (Hrotsvitha, Epistle)
Here she describes her work as difficult, having “been at pains” to create her book. This difficulty is to be expected of one who is not superior in intellect. By equating her writing to weaving, an accepted women’s craft, Hrotsvitha claims to collect bits of knowledge from noble thinkers, since her own acuity is believed inferior. This humble presentation hails the brilliance of scholars who have inspired her, quieting the objections of less humble intellectual men. While humility is believed to please God, Hrotsvitha strategically manipulates her expression of humility to please her masculine scholarly audience as well.
Hrotsvitha may present her work humbly, yet she illustrates a confidence in her literary goal to redefine women in her own terms. This is evident when she proclaims:
Wherefore I, the strong voice of Gandersheim, have not hesitated to imitate in my writings a poet whose works are so widely read, my object being to glorify, within the limits of my poor talent, the laudable chastity of Christian virgins in that self-same form of composition which has been used to describe the shameless acts of licentious women. (Hrotsvitha, Preface)
Here, her aggressive language draws attention to use of “I, the strong voice” and her lack of hesitation when imitating Terrence. “My poor talent” reads as a mere afterthought, perhaps to appease those who take offense to her confidence. Demonstrating her awareness of popular literature, Hrotsvitha specifically assumes the writing style of Terrence knowing that her message will be better circulated if it mimics the form to which readers are already predisposed. While abandoning his amoral plots, she shifts her content to celebrate women’s strength in their devotion to God, addressing topics of unlawful love and passion, only to illustrate “the greater the merit of those who resist, especially when it is fragile woman who is victorious and strong man who is routed with confusion” (Hrotsvitha, Preface). This celebration of women shines with Hrotsvitha’s originality yet, having defined her work as a gift from God, faith is required to allow for consideration of the new literary perspective.
Hildegard must also address the perceived deficiency of her gender, thus supplying additional evidence that Lang’s observations are, in fact, still a large part of women’s existence two centuries after Hrotsvitha. In order to capture the attention of Bernard of Clairvaux, soliciting his reassurance in the sharing of her visions, Hildegard anticipates the possibility of rejection on the grounds that she is a woman and constructs a methodical argument to avoid dismissal. She appeals to Bernard’s acceptance of God’s power “to raise up your soul so that you are not passive and indifferent to the words of this correspondent, as long as you seek all things from God, from man or woman” (Hildegard 5). In making the direct implication that to deny her an audience would be to deny God, she achieves the intended effect. Bernard does consider the content of her request, and replies favorably in return. Hildegard repeats the use of this device in her letter to Pope Eugenius III, seeking support of her book. She claims, “But many wise men of earthly inclination have rejected these things […] because they come from this poor female figure who was formed in the rib and not taught by philosophers.” Again, the intended effect is achieved as Pope Eugenius III grants his support.
Once Hildegard is granted the freedom to express her visions in the book Scivias, she ventures forth describing unconventional ideas as God reveals them to her. In Part I, Vision 4, Hildegard writes, “The soul reveals her capabilities according to the capabilities of the body, so that in childhood she brings forth simplicity, in youth strength, and in the fullness of age […] she brings forth her greatest strength in wisdom.” (Hildegard 6) This raises the question as to whether she intentionally assigns the soul a feminine identity, or if this is simply the result of Latin translation of feminine gendered word. Lang explains that the word pathav is used to “denote the earth is feminine in gender. The well known correlation between the fecundity or the earth and the fertility of women would suggest that this is no grammatical accident.” (Lang 96) To apply Lang’s assumption, it is possible that Hildegard’s feminine depiction of the soul is intentional, as the noun “tree” lacks gender within the same passage. Hildegard appears to use word gender deliberately and advantageously to reflect her meaning. The feminine soul possesses positive characteristics of simplicity, strength and wisdom. Understanding is attributed to masculine nature, a teacher in Hildegard’s description, guiding the soul by discerning between what is lovable and hateful. (Hildegard 6) Developing a new interpretation that enlists positive masculine and feminine powers, both working in conjunction toward enlightenment, Hildegard respectfully honors each sex in their journey to the Father.
This new interpretation is not without acknowledgement of the old. In her book, Scivias, Part II, Vision 1, Hildegard describes God’s message as it is revealed to her in a vision, “you are trampled by the male form because of Eve’s transgression, speak nevertheless of the fiery work of salvation which this most certain vision reveals to you!” (Hildegard 11) In the description of this vision from God, Eve’s fault in the fall has no further mention. “When the Father … created Adam, he entrusted him … with the gentle commandment of clear obedience … and he turned away and fell into a thick darkness from which he could not raise himself up.” (Hildegard 11) Offering a fresh interpretation of the myth surrounding the fall of humanity, it is Adam’s turn to shoulder responsibility for humanity’s transgression. Had Hildegard not been recognized as God?s prophet, this line of interpretation would not have been accepted. It is through her association with the Light that this additional interpretation can be accepted by the scholars of her day.
Hrotsvitha and Hildegard each identify with Lang’s description detailing early religious attitudes toward women. By acknowledging their gender specific short comings, it may appear that these women support the interpretation that women are inferior beings, but upon closer investigation it is obvious that while the writings of Hrotsvitha and Hildegard follow the protocol of the society in which they lived, their interpretations vary greatly from the traditional views of lesser value placed on women. Hrotsvitha depicts the sexual appetites of high ranking men in rebuttal to the traditional assignment of women as a pool for sexual desires. Hildegard refers to the feminine soul which, when balanced with masculine understanding, forms a connection to the heavenly realm. Hildegard also offers a new interpretation of the fall of humanity by focusing solely on Adam in the description of her vision. Revolutionary and groundbreaking in their thinking, these women challenge the negative associations Lang presents as they exist within early Buddhist and Gnostic beliefs.
Lang, Karen Christina. “Images of Women in Early Buddhism and Christian Gnosticism.” Buddhist-Christian Studies. Vol. 2. (1982): pp. 94-105.
Hrotsvitha. Medieval Source Book. “Preface to the Plays of Roswitha.” ca. 935-ca. 975. London, Chatto & Windus. (1923) Translation: Christopher St. John. 15 Oct 2006.
Hildegard. Hildegard of Bingen Selected Writings. New York: Penguin Books, 2001.
A reading response for Medieval Lit, Women and Spirituality:
Hildegard was a highly influential woman during the latter portion of her life. Initially she feared revealing her visions but, with encouragement, she began to record and share them. Hildegard’s interpretations of these visions read like prophecy, and were believed to have come from God. Her understanding of a sacred, unknown language and her composure of music also lent credibility to this belief in God’s divine intervention because her knowledge was not a product of formal education. While it has been said that her noble lineage may have encouraged correspondence from important people of her day, their letters suggest that their belief in her intimate connection with God is a more probable factor.
Addressing her as daughter, maiden, and servant of Christ, most lovable mother in Christ, and a burning lamp in the house of the Lord, many who wrote to Hildegard requested that she present their case to God, soliciting his grace and mercy on their souls. Requests came from Henry, Bishop of Liege, Eberhard, Archbishop of Salzburg, Abbott Adam and others all seeking intercession from Hildegard, each of them too humble and weary in their sins to ask for God?s mercy on their own. As seen in the Canonization Protocol, Hildegard was also commonly sought after to heal both in her lifetime as well as after her death. Each request demonstrates that if God used Hildegard as a messenger to deliver his word, those who desired could use her to communicate in the opposite direction.
Hildegard’s insight into God’s meaning was sought by people of all walks of life. With strong desire to know God’s word as it was revealed to Hildegard, a request for her texts were sent by Arnold Archbishop of Cologne, regardless of whether or not they were finished. This hunger for her knowledge thrust Hildegard into political situations in the realm of both church and government. Hildegard believed in a God who excludes no soul, an idea contradictory to the natural operations of Government. Since church and state were intertwined, Odo of Soissons, in his letter from 1148, pointedly touched upon the story of Babylon warning, “do not make known any things that might disturb the apostolic and ecclesiastical institutions. Wise woman! Listen to these things” (181). In that same letter, he asked Hildegard to answer to whether or not God is identical with both paternity and divinity, a question pondered by scholars. While this was the type of information Odo wished to protect, by asking, he demonstrated his confidence that he was deserving of the answer.
What I believe to be Hildegard’s greatest influence was her ability to bring women out of the shadows of society and lift them up. Unearthly and desirable natures formerly defined as “male” within a dualistic belief system were now attributed to the feminine. Hildegard argued that this connection between body and soul was created by God, and all things created in God are good – including the feminine. This is how she shifted focus away from the idea that the feminine body’s attachment to the Earth was undesirable in the quest for enlightenment. This was not lost on her admirers as evidenced in a letter from the Abbess of St. Theodore and St. Mary, “he not only foresaw and predestined you of the female sex, but his grace also enlightened many people through your teaching” (185). Hildegard, in all her virtue, chastity, and her ability to channel God’s word challenged prior concepts when she spoke of things such as wisdom and the soul as “she.”