Swimming the Tiber 32: Some Damn Fool Idealistic Crusade

I’m not planning on delving into the Crusades very much. I’ve studied ecclesiastical history, but I’m not a historian, and certainly not with a focus on the Crusades. I think just war theory is important to be aware of, but I’m not an expert. Even if I were, I couldn’t make you an expert in a single blog post. And the more you read my posts about the scandals of the Church, the more you are likely to find the same explanation for each of them (<clickbait>it may surprise you, but it’s actually obvious!</clickbait>).

The Crusades

First, a glimpse at the history of the Crusades. You may recall that the Roman Empire, once covering about four-fifths of Alexander the Great’s empire, was by the end of the first millennium AD split into two empires (one centered in Rome, the other in Constantinople). In Rome, the Pope led the Latin-based western Church (the Roman Catholic Church). In the East, a final schism in 1054 separated out the patriarchs of that region from Rome’s authority. By 1095, both the Church and the Roman Empire had been split in twain, but both were threatened by the expansions of Islamic power. The Islamic empire had, under the Umayyad Caliphate two hundred years earlier, grown from Arabia to stretch to twice the size of Alexander’s empire. By the late 11th century, it was pressing on the borders of a weakened Rome.

In 1095, the Byzantine Empire was struggling with the expansion of the Turks and requested military aid from the West. Pope Urban II preached (especially in the Council of Clermont) on the importance of reacquiring pilgrimage sites in the Holy Land and supporting Constantinople against Islamic invasion. The first response was a crusade of impoverished people, probably eager to serve the Church and get remission for their sins; these people, unfortunately, lacked leadership and massacred Jewish communities en route to the Holy Land. In time, there was more organization, and the First Crusade began in earnest. By 1099, the Crusaders had sacked Jerusalem, where they slaughtered at least 3000 people, which was quickly exaggerated both by proud Latin sources and aghast Muslim ones. At any rate, the holy city was drenched in blood and littered with corpses, but the Crusade had been a success–Christians once again controlled the Holy Land.

Fortunately for the Crusaders, the Islamic empire had fractured. Sunnis of the east and Shia of the west were at odds, and there was no organized counterattack for the moment. Eventually, though, Muslim forces began to take back the “Crusader states” and by the mid-12th century, the Second Crusade had begun as an effort to retake the area. Of course, this resulted in more massacres of innocent Jewish bystanders in the Rhineland (which St. Bernard of Clairvaux, at least, disapproved of vehemently). The Second Crusade was ultimately unsuccessful.

Shortly after, Saladin (the sultan of Egypt and Syria) led the caliph of Baghdad and Sunni Islam in a campaign that eventually saw Jerusalem fall. Pope Gregory VIII initiated the Third Crusade in 1187 to take it back–but the Crusaders never did. Despite advances under King Richard of England especially, the Crusaders ultimately came up short of their goal. A truce was negotiated to allow access for pilgrimages. A few more half-hearted attempts were made, but also failed.

It did not take long for Pope Innocent III to begin preaching the Fourth Crusade in 1200. This was, by far, the most disastrous crusade of all. The Crusaders quickly realized they lacked the manpower and funds to travel to Jerusalem, so they went to Constantinople instead. They conquered it–twice. The second time, they sacked it, pillaged it, and slaughtered its people. (You may recall that the First Crusade was ostensibly to support Constantinople against Turkish invaders. See how far we have fallen.) They never even tried to go to Jerusalem. Pope Innocent, for his part, excommunicated all of them.

There were more Crusades, but they’re usually skipped (for good reason). The Fifth did little. The Sixth only accomplished an unpopular treaty. The Seventh and Eighth were both led by King Louis IX–the Seventh targeted Egypt and failed; the Eighth targeted Tunis and failed. The Ninth Crusade was led by Prince Edward of England and resulted in a ten-year truce only. Thus, in 1272, the Crusades came to a close.

Some important things to note: (1) Lots of bad things happened during the Crusades. No one disputes this. (2) The religious fervor for the Crusades was accompanied by promises of forgiveness (via plenary indulgences, among other things) and the prospect of financial and political gain (a great general could gain a princedom in the Crusader states, for example). These provided further impetus, and the non-religious reasons often took precedence (especially, for example, in the Fourth Crusade).

Just War Theory

Just war theory is the examination of what constitutes (you guessed it!) a just war. The just war doctrine lays out the detailed results of that examination in practice by the Catholic Church. Just war theory predates Christianity, finding its roots in Roman politics (and the casus belli or cause of war), but most of its history lies with Christian theologians and ethicists. The phrase is first used in a Christian context in St. Augustine’s tome, De Civitate Dei (On the City of God), but Augustine does not lay out a set of regulations for determining whether a war is just. That takes another 900 years.

St. Thomas Aquinas writes three requirements for a just war in his Summa Theologiae:

In order for a war to be just, three things are necessary. First, the authority of the sovereign by whose command the war is to be waged. For it is not the business of a private individual to declare war, because he can seek for redress of his rights from the tribunal of his superior. Moreover it is not the business of a private individual to summon together the people, which has to be done in wartime. And as the care of the common weal is committed to those who are in authority, it is their business to watch over the common weal of the city, kingdom or province subject to them. And just as it is lawful for them to have recourse to the sword in defending that common weal against internal disturbances, when they punish evil-doers, according to the words of the Apostle (Romans 13:4): “He beareth not the sword in vain: for he is God’s minister, an avenger to execute wrath upon him that doth evil”; so too, it is their business to have recourse to the sword of war in defending the common weal against external enemies. Hence it is said to those who are in authority (Psalm 81:4): “Rescue the poor: and deliver the needy out of the hand of the sinner”; and for this reason Augustine says: “The natural order conducive to peace among mortals demands that the power to declare and counsel war should be in the hands of those who hold the supreme authority.”

Secondly, a just cause is required, namely that those who are attacked, should be attacked because they deserve it on account of some fault. Wherefore Augustine says: “A just war is wont to be described as one that avenges wrongs, when a nation or state has to be punished, for refusing to make amends for the wrongs inflicted by its subjects, or to restore what it has seized unjustly.”

Thirdly, it is necessary that the belligerents should have a rightful intention, so that they intend the advancement of good, or the avoidance of evil. Hence Augustine says:1 “True religion looks upon as peaceful those wars that are waged not for motives of aggrandizement, or cruelty, but with the object of securing peace, of punishing evil-doers, and of uplifting the good.” For it may happen that the war is declared by the legitimate authority, and for a just cause, and yet be rendered unlawful through a wicked intention. Hence Augustine says: “The passion for inflicting harm, the cruel thirst for vengeance, an unpacific and relentless spirit, the fever of revolt, the lust of power, and such like things, all these are rightly condemned in war.”

– St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae,
Second Part of the Second Part, Question 40, Article 1

Since then, the doctrine has been refined by the Church. The relevant paragraph of the Catechism reads as follows:

The strict conditions for legitimate defense by military force require rigorous consideration. The gravity of such a decision makes it subject to rigorous conditions of moral legitimacy. At one and the same time:

  • the damage inflicted by the aggressor on the nation or community of nations must be lasting, grave, and certain;
  • all other means of putting an end to it must have been shown to be impractical or ineffective;
  • there must be serious prospects of success;
  • the use of arms must not produce evils and disorders graver than the evil to be eliminated. The power of modem means of destruction weighs very heavily in evaluating this condition.

The evaluation of these conditions for moral legitimacy belongs to the prudential judgment of those who have responsibility for the common good.

Catechism of the Catholic Church,
Part 3, Section 2, Chapter 2, Article 5, Paragraph 2309

Now, we are free to evaluate retrospectively whether any of the Crusades met these measurements, but we must remember that (for the most part) these measurements did not exist during the Crusades. Aquinas lived in the 13th century, and his writings would not have been widespread early enough in his lifetime to judge any of the Fourth through the Ninth crusades on these merits. The just war doctrine proper, from the Catechism, is an even more recent delineation (20th century for its current wording). These measurements are much more appropriately applied to modern militaristic action and war. (The astute reader will have difficulty calling some recent wars “just” under these circumstances.)

So how does this apply to the Crusades? Well, it doesn’t quite. The First Crusade is probably the best candidate for passing the test, but many of the rest certainly do not. There is one important thing to consider alongside the Crusades, and I’ve already touched on it a few times: As I’ve mentioned before, the Church contains both saints and sinners, both the wheat and the chaff. Whether we should hold the wheat responsible for the chaff is up to you, but most of us do not condemn the holy angels for the actions of Satan.

I could also talk about intention (no one leading the charge wanted innocents to be slaughtered, but greed took precedence over piety in many cases) or the surge in vocations and holy orders that accompanied the Crusades (holy wars reinvigorated the interest of the laity in serving the Church), but that doesn’t change what happened. Some good things did come from the Crusades, but so did bad–but throughout all the wickedness done by people, we trust the Church never to falter. The gates of hell will not overpower her.

1 Technically not to be found in St. Augustine’s writings.

Swimming the Tiber 26: How Will This Be?

And the angelhere and throughout, (messenger / envoy) said to her, “Fear not, Mary, for [thou] found [on a particular occasion] grace(favor) besidehere and throughout, (before / with / in the presence of) God. And behold, [thou] will conceive in [thy] belly and [thou] will bring forth a son and [thou] will call his name Jesus. This [man] will be great and will be called [the]1 son of [the] highest [one] and the lord God(God, as lord,) will give to him the throne of his father David, and [he] will be king(rule) over the household of Jacob unto the ages and of his kingdom [there] will not be an end.” And Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since [I] do not know a man?” And having answered, the angel said to her, “A holy spirit will come upon thee and a power of [the] highest will overshadow thee; wherefore also the holy [one] being brought forth2 3 will be called [the] son of God. And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, also herself has conceived a son in her old age and this is the sixth month for the [one] called barren; because no word will be powerless4 beside God.” And Mary said, “Behold the slave of [the] lord; may [it] come to be for me according to thy word.” And the angel departed from her.

– Luke 1:30-38 (my translation, emphasis added)

In my experience, most Protestants don’t think often of this passage; without any devotion to Mary, evangelical/Baptist communities don’t ascribe much importance to it. Sure, it mentions a few crucial details about fulfilling prophecies and such (Jesus was born of a virgin), but its details don’t come up very often.

It doesn’t help that interpretation often interferes between the text and the English translation in most Bibles. The passage I have made bold above, being the second most important quote from Mary in the passage, is often translated, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” or, “How can this be, since I have not known/lain with a man?” The former is passable, but I think cleverly evades the point; the latter is outright fabrication because the tense is objectively and purposefully wrong.

There are a lot of comments available in the above passage, most of which are interesting, but beside the point–but I left out my especially nerdy commentary on the bold text because I wanted to make sure you saw it. First, let’s look at the easy part: “a man.” Even bad translations of this passage get this part right, and the meaning is obvious: Mary does not know (Biblically) any man. She knows no man. This is indefinite specifically because no particular individual is mentioned (nor any particular class, since it is a singular noun). It is the generic noun “man.” She doesn’t know man. It’s not that she doesn’t know the man; she doesn’t know any man.

Well, fair enough, you say. That seems straightforward.

Then let’s look at the harder part, the part that Protestant translators avoid translating accurately: “[I] do not know.” This is in the present tense. As I said above, it is bad translating to render it in the perfect tense (an action in the past–or in this case, a lack of action in the past–with an effect on the present, emphasizing the current state of affairs). Translating this as the perfect relegates it to the past quite naturally; if she has not known a man, then she may yet know a man. It implies a malleable state–this thing has not happened, but it can.

The present tense isn’t like that. Where the perfect tense refers to past events with an effect on the present, the present tense does the opposite: it refers to events happening right now. Now, obviously, she’s not in the process of knowing a man, which the angel can plainly see, so that’s not what she’s saying. The present tense here indicates imperfective aspect in the primary sequence. That means that it refers to habitual or ongoing action in the present or future. As I just said, ongoing is ruled out because she wouldn’t need to mention it (like the dad joke where someone asks, “What are you doing?” and the answer is, “Talking to you”–it’s funny because it’s unnecessary and obvious). The alternative is habitual action–it’s not that she hasn’t yet known a man, it’s that she doesn’t do that kind of thing. She’s not a virgin just because she isn’t married, but because she has chosen to be a virgin.

Of course, you’re free to disagree. I’m sure more than one Greek-literate person out there is yelling at their computer screen, “No, it’s because she’s habitually virtuous up to that point!” That’s fair, I guess, although I maintain that the perfect tense would suit that meaning… perfectly. ( YEEEAAAHHH!)

But consider that this also explains why she asks “how” this can happen. She’s not woefully uneducated; she surely understands the logistics. And the angel’s word is prophetic (you will conceive), so if she were about to enter a normal marriage to Joseph, this doesn’t seem like a complex question. Compare this to Zachariah’s confusion in Luke 1:18 or Sarah’s in Genesis 18:12. The main difference here is that Mary is asking not because pregnancy is technically impossible (she is not barren), but because of her vow to remain celibate before God. The question is not doubting God’s power, but trying to reconcile her duty to her vow and her wish to accept the word of the angel.

If you’re still wondering what I’m talking about, it’s this: the Catholic Church teaches the doctrine of the perpetual virginity of Mary, which is to say, there was no point in Mary’s life during which she was not a virgin.

If you’re like I was, you’re saying, “Wait, what? Why? What about Jesus’ brothers? What about Joseph?”

Legitimate questions, all. First, I’ll repeat myself: It is a doctrine of the Catholic Church that Mary remained virginal her entire life.

As for the why, you’re bound to get a few mixed responses on that. The quickest answer is always, “Because that’s the way God wanted it,” which is pretty unsatisfying, let me tell you. Another reason is to maintain the purity and virtue of Mary (recall my post on the virtue of virginity?) as the holy vessel through which God Himself entered the world. (You may recall that some earlier vessels for God required absolute reverence–Exodus 3:1-6; 2 Samuel 6:6-7.)

Tradition is pretty strong on this point, generally speaking. St. Augustine, considered by many historically-minded Protestants to be one of the “good ones,” points to the east gate in Ezekiel’s vision as a type of Mary:

Then he brought me back to the outer gate of the sanctuary, which faces east; and it was shut. The Lord said to me: This gate shall remain shut; it shall not be opened, and no one shall enter by it; for the Lord, the God of Israel, has entered by it; therefore it shall remain shut. Only the prince, because he is a prince, may sit in it to eat food before the Lord; he shall enter by way of the vestibule of the gate, and shall go out by the same way.

– Ezekiel 44:1-3 (NRSVCE)

Reading that in the context that Augustine did, it doesn’t seem to mean anything but the perpetual virginity of Mary.

An early (second century) document called the Protoevangelium of James (though not canonical) points to the ancient status of this teaching. The story goes like this: Mary’s parents devoted her as a child to the Lord (in the manner of Samuel, in 1 Samuel 1:11, and of the women serving in the temple of the Lord, who, though meant to be virginal, were defiled by Eli’s sons in 1 Samuel 2:22, and also in the manner of Anna in Luke 2:36-38). Eventually, it became necessary that Mary be married, in order to protect her virginity, and so Joseph (according to the Protoevangelium, a widower with children from his first marriage) was chosen for the job. Not all of those details are part of the doctrine, but the story was intended to explain confusion about that relationship in particular.

For the first few centuries of church history, the “brothers” of Jesus were considered step-brothers (the children of Joseph’s first marriage). St. Jerome (a strong proponent of Mary’s virginity and virginity in general) suggested that, because of a Jewish idiom of the time, the term could also refer to Jesus’ cousins.

This latter use is reinforced via a particular reading of the Gospels. In Mark 6:3, we see that the list of Jesus’ brothers includes “James and Joses and Simon and Judas.” In Mark 15:40, we see that a certain Mary, the mother of James and Joses, was at the crucifixion. In John 19:25, we see that Jesus’ mother Mary, and also Mary’s sister Mary (not even the Romans, who numbered their children, gave two living children the exact same name, so “cousin” makes sense here, too), and Mary Magdalene were present at the crucifixion. A syncretic reading of the two passages suggests that Mary, the wife of Clopas, is the same Mary, the mother of James and Joses. Of course, those were all common names, so that James and Joses might not be the same James and Joses mentioned nine chapters earlier, but Mark did have a tendency to name-drop (cf. Alexander and Rufus in Mark 15:21).

There are other points of contention for this issue. Many Catholics point to John 19:25-27 as evidence in favor of Mary’s virginity. After all, if Jesus were the eldest, and Mary had other sons, he should pass off responsibility for her to one of his brothers, but instead he chooses the beloved disciple (the apostle John, according to tradition). That he chose John as his replacement suggests that he had no brothers to choose. (The counter-argument, of course, is that he was not on good terms with his brothers, or perhaps simply that none of his brothers attended the crucifixion. This is reinforced by Matthew 12:46-50–see also Mark 3:31-35; Luke 8:19-21–and John 7:1-10. It’s a fair point, so these arguments balance out, in my estimation.)

Consider also that in Luke 2:41-52, there is no mention of siblings at a time when siblings should be appropriate to the story. Consider that the behavior of the “brothers” toward Jesus are like that of older relatives (see John 7 again, and Mark 3:21), but would not have been appropriate to younger siblings.

In response to the so-called linguistic arguments against Mary’s perpetual virginity–that “until” in Matthew 1:25 implies a change in behavior, or that “first-born” implies that a “second-born” must have existed, I have little to say, because I remain flabbergasted that I also used these arguments in the past.

The words “until” and “till”–in English, in Greek (ἕως), or in Hebrew–do not strictly require a change in behavior after the time described. If I say, “He did not write another word until he died,” did he start writing again after death? The point of the word is to describe a span of time (from point A to point B) during which a certain fact was true. If nothing states that things changed afterward (and nothing in Scripture does), then we cannot assume Mary and Joseph began to have sexual relations after the birth of Jesus on the basis of this word alone.

This supposition about “first-born” implying the existence of a “second-born” is utter nonsense. If a woman bears only one child, that child is her first-born (because no child has been born from her before that one). In the same way, if I drive a motorcycle tomorrow, that will be my first time driving a motorcycle, even if I never drive one again; or if I were called upon to coach the Green Bay Packers, I would coach my first professional football game, and then I would never coach another–but the one I coached would be no less my first.

One final point to address: “What about Joseph?” For a long time, this was a sticking point for me. It was unfair, said I, even unconscionable that Joseph should be married to a beautiful young woman and be forbidden from intercourse with her. Withholding sex can even be grounds for an annulment in some cases, suggesting that one or both parties did not comprehend marriage before entering into it. But recall again my post on the virtue of virginity, and recognize that any family containing the only-begotten Son of God is going to be holy, set apart, and dedicated to purity and devotion to God. In that context, it’s important to recognize that Joseph knew what he was getting into (even if he were not an old widower, Mary’s vow of celibacy would have been specified up front, not a surprise for the wedding night).

Consider also the words of Sts. Augustine and Jerome:

Thus Christ, about to be born from a virgin, who–before [she] knew who had been about to be born from her–had resolved to remain a virgin, [Christ] preferred to approve holy virginity, [rather] than to command [it]. And thus also in the woman herself, in whom he accepted the form of a slave, [he] wanted virginity to be freely chosen.

– Augustine, De Sancta Virginitate 4 (my translation)

You say that Mary did not remain a virgin: I assert to you more that Joseph himself was a virgin on account of Mary, in order that a virgin son was born out of a virgin union. For if fornication does not befall a holy man, and [it] is not written that he had another wife: but to Mary, whom [he] was reckoned to have [as wife], [he] was a more capable guardian than husband: [it] remains that he who merited to be called the father of the Lord stayed a virgin with Mary.

– Jerome, De Perpetua Virginitate Beatae Mariae
Adversus Helvidium
19 (21) (my translation)

All that to say, St. Joseph is even more saintly than I thought. Hardly a rip-off, especially when you get to raise the Son of God, teaching him your trade and getting to know him intimately as only a father can, all while living alongside the greatest of the saints, Jesus’ own mother, Mary.

But just how great is Mary? Let’s dig deeper next week, when we talk about the Catholic doctrine that, in order to prepare a holy vessel worthy of himself, God ensured that she would be born without the stain of original sin.

Last Post:
The Queen Mother

Back to the passage
1 Whether the definite article is implied here or not is not clear. Because this (as in verse 35 below) is a predicate (that is, the same construction as the subject, but only describing the subject, not working as one), the definite article is omitted even when it would otherwise be included specifically to denote this as the predicate. Including the article would either make it the subject or indicate that no new information was being provided. The former makes no sense, and Mary’s reaction to this suggests that the latter use would be inappropriate (this is new information to her). You a perfectly free to translate this as indefinite (“[he] will be called [a] son,” etc.), but there is no reason to weigh that interpretation more heavily than the one I have rendered.
2 This phrase is neuter, probably agreeing with the implied τέκνον, “child.”
3 Some manuscripts insert: from you; others: in you
4 Literally every word will not be powerless; there is also a good chance this is a Hebraism rendered in Greek, where ῥῆμα–here and in the next verse rendered “word”–means “the matter at hand” or “the subject of which I am speaking.”