Medievalish 1.4
Some big news, and brash medieval prayers and people
Hello friend,
I always feel a little funny calling this email a “newsletter” because it rarely has any news—or for that matter, ideas—newer than six or seven hundred years old. Well, I finally have some more current news that I am so excited to share…
This is a screenshot from Publishers Weekly! Yes… I signed a contract with Zondervan Reflective to write a book, The Many Faces of Jesus: Seeing Christ Through Medieval Eyes, on medieval representations and ideas about Christ. I’m thrilled. Here’s a little more about it:
C.S. Lewis has noted that the church has a problem: whenever Christians are brainstorming together about who Jesus is and who we are, we go out and read mostly people who agree with us, or who live in our same time and place. As a result, we tend to cram Jesus into our own cultural desires and image.
But what happens when we read people’s answers to Jesus’s question, “Who do you say I am?” from the past lives and places of the church—people who may be wholly unlike us? Who is Jesus? What is he like? And who am I, encountering Jesus?
The Many Faces of Jesus looks to the Christians of the Middle Ages for their answers to these questions. By exploring surprising medieval representations of Jesus in art and literature—Jesus as a Knight, a Lover, a Judge, even a Mother—this book expands readers’ Christian imaginations. Meeting Jesus through art and literature of the past allows us to see Christ’s face with eyes paradoxically both fresh and ancient, and reorient ourselves towards the Savior.
Weaving in reflections on her life as a mother, writer, and Christian in 21st-century America, medievalist scholar Grace Hamman highlights the relevancy of medieval texts and art in our life today, and invites readers into a world that will feel both familiar and surprising.
In all honesty, the monthly newsletter may be a little spotty or brief this summer if I’m behind on writing!
Back to our regularly scheduled programming…
I’ve been working on a chapter for the book on medieval scholasticism and what it has to teach us about Jesus. As a result, I’ve been reading a whirlwind through some Thomas Aquinas books I read in graduate school, including one by G.K. Chesterton. The book is not his best, to be quite frank, and falls prey to the usual temptations of early 20th century popular theological writing without being as keenly observant as he sometimes is.
But there was an arresting thought in it that I’ve been turning over and over in my mind. There’s an old legend about St. Thomas, the famous and controversial theologian of the thirteenth century. He laid some of his writings before the altar at a church as he prayed. Christ on the cross spoke aloud, asking what he desired because he was so pleased with Thomas’s theological endeavors. Thomas answers, in the words of Chesterton, with that ‘ almost blasphemous audacity which is one with the humility of his religion; “I will have Thyself”’ (87).
What does Chesterton mean? Most of us would categorize “near-blasphemous audacity” and “humility” as opposites. I want to turn to a picture out of a medieval book of hours that I recently spoke on, in a mini-retreat on prayer with a local ministry here in Denver. Books of hours were a popular kind of prayer book in the Middle Ages, and often included personalized portraits of their wealthy owners, especially before the printing press. The owners peer out of initials or converse with a saint.
This is a rendering of the Annunciation, when Gabriel comes to the Virgin Mary to share with her the good news of Jesus and Mary consents (two out of my four newsletters so far have included the Annunciation! Good thing the feast of the Annunciation is this month!). Take a good look, soak it in, because it’s beautiful and odd:
On the right, we see Mary, caught in the act of devotion. The Holy Spirit descends, sent from God the Father (note him, tinily framed in a heavenly window) in the form of a dove. On the left, we see Gabriel, saying Ave Maria—and, audaciously, the owner of the prayer-book, with her prayer-book open before her. She is both praying the scene and living it. What I find irresistibly charming about this illumination is that Gabriel has his hand on the woman’s shoulder, as if they are announcing Jesus to Mary together!
When I showed this image in my lecture, someone commented, laughing, “We know narcissism existed in the Middle Ages!” And of course, they were right. But more so—I meet again in a different form that bold devotion of the prayer, “Jesus, give me Thyself.” It’s a brash insertion of oneself into the history of Jesus, right at the heart of it all. Give me All. Near blasphemous audacity and humility—is there a more striking combination of ideas to describe our given, welcome, recognized human boldness in approaching the Second Person of the Trinity?
By daring to ask for all of God, Thomas and this woman both intimidate me and cause me to wonder. I am meditating on the strange humility in painting oneself into the Annunciation. Breathtaking boldness and audacity grows out of recognizing one’s complete need.
What I’ve been up to this month:
Currently, the Old Books With Grace podcast features a Lent series on the vices & virtues, specifically medieval and modern ideas on the Seven Capital Vices and their remedies. Listen on Apple, Spotify, or anywhere you get your podcasts.
I loved my time doing “Praying with Medieval Friends” that I mentioned. I loved the time together thinking through the prayer rhythms and cultures of the past. I’m available for hire if your ministry or church would enjoy something similar (I can adapt it for a virtual or in-person time together).
The book! I am so excited to share this work with you.
What I’ve been reading this month:
Nonfiction: I revisited Eamon Duffy’s marvelous The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England, 1400-1580. In my opinion, this is the best broad work on late medieval religion out there.
Fiction: Anthony Trollope’s Barchester Towers and the other novels in the Chronicles of Barset series. I love rereading fiction when I don’t have space in my brain for new ideas. Trollope is hilarious.
Medieval/Medieval-adjacent: Working through some St. Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae for the book, as I mentioned. I love him, but scholasticism presents quite the challenge for me when I’m out of practice.
Article: “Dolly Parton is Magnificent,” by Mary Townsend in Plough Quarterly, on Dolly Parton as an exemplar of Aristotle’s virtues. Delightful, creative, intelligent.
A Prayer from the Past
God, of thy goodness give me thyself; for thou art enough for me, and I can ask for nothing less that will be full honor to thee. And if I ask anything less, ever shall I be in want, for only in thee have I all. Amen.
(adapted from Julian of Norwich, A Revelation of Love)
Peace for your March,
Grace