Priscillian, the Cathars and Me

Hey! I'm back. Canada was wonderful and I had an opportunity to meet many old friends, some of which I haven´t seen in 20 years. I have written elsewhere that true friendship knows nothing about distance or time.

My paper at the Brock University Conference on Gnosticism was entitled "Priscillian, the Cathars and Me". If you have been following my ongoing research into the Camino de Santiago, you will know that I have written quite extensively about Priscillian of Avila in my book Pilgrimage to Heresy: Don´t Believe Everything They Tell You
But what was that "heresy"? And how does it affect today´s walkers on the Camino?

We are told that the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela houses the mortal remains of St. James. But how true is that? To find out more, I invite you to look at my blogs over the last 14 months or so.

In the meantime, I thought you might like to share in what has become a personal journey towards Gnosticism.

Here is the first part of my paper:

A Child's Garden of Gnosticism

When I was four, I dreamt I met Jesus outside of our local village pub. He was nice, but neither meek, nor mild; quite stern in fact. I remember waking up with a sense that Jesus was telling me somehow to be very wary of what I as going to be taught.

As I grew, I devoured the Narnia chronicles of CS Lewis, which were just then being published, never once considering that Lewis was providing my thirsty young mind with allegory. It didn't matter. To this day I maintain that I learned about honour, valour, love and nobility from the children in the books and their mentor, Aslan. He made more sense to me than Jesus.

Skip forward to age 12 and my first year of secondary school. In divinity class we had to write a composition about Jesus' visit to Jerusalem as a young boy. I decided to use a bit of licence and described the excitement of the young boys at the vanguard of the group of parents who followed behind. Just imagine, I thought, how they might have behaved each one vying to be the first to see the "spires" of the city. "I saw it first," says one; "No, I did," says Jesus. I was really proud if it when I handed it in and waited for the high grade I knew must come.

Now I've always written well; it comes naturally to me and so I was excited when the teacher handed back all of the compositions with the exception of mine. I can remember to this day the exact seat I was in, waiting with great anticipation to hear what a remarkable insight I had had into the everyday life of Jesus.

I was to be not only disappointed but roundly embarrassed in front of 25 other girls all of whom had their papers on the desk in front of them.

"But," said the teacher, "there is one that I simply must read out to you all," and picking up my composition began to tell my story. I was thrilled. At last, acknowledgement for my hard work and imagination.

Then she finished. And turned on me in such a fashion as I had never seen. How DARE I treat the Lord Jesus as though he were a normal child, what BLASPHEMY was this in her own class...she went on and on.

One part of me just wanted to slide under the desk and stay there for the next five years. But you know, the other part of me wanted to scream: "You are SO WRONG!"

To be continued...
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The Boy who would be King?

Alfonso VI, king of Leon and Castilla, was growing old, and there was still no successor to the throne. Garcia, his youngest brother had died in prison in 1090 and his other brother, Sancho, was ancient history. His only legitimate child, with Constance of Burgundy, was the Infanta Urraca who as we have seen was married to Constance's relative Raimundo. He certainly would have had his eye on the throne.

Alfonso also had two illegitimate daughters, Teresa and Jimena, both by his mistress Jimena Muñoz. Teresa had married Raimundo's cousin, Henry of Burgundy who was recognised as "Count of Portugal" and the French contingent was well established. With them had come the influence of the Abbey of Cluny. But there was still no son to succeed Alfonso. Queens were not considered a viable option.

Raimundo's expectations were not without foundation. Alfonso had more or less promised him the kingship of Leon and Castilla with his bethrothal to the young Infanta. In fact, the Historia Compostelana - partisan as always - has the following to say:

"King Alfonso had caused him to come from Burgundy to Spain and had promised him all of his kingdom with a sworn oath."

Urraca had been so young at her marriage that there was no question here of a love match. The union was purely political.

Way back in 1091 - while Diego Gelmirez could only dream of greatness; and you can be sure he was - the city of Córdoba had fallen to the might of the conquering Moorish forces of the Almoravides. The widow of the governor, Zaida, took refuge first in Sevilla, but presumably didn't feel safe with her own people. She fled north and took refuge at the court of Alfonso. We learn that "her beauty and her plight softened the heart of the king, Alfonso", and we cannot discount that the promise of certain fortresses at the southern region of his kingdom would have also moved him in a more practical way. What is certain is that the elderly Alfonso's other southern regions were far from softened because in 1093, she gave birth to a son. He was called "Sancho".

This development changed everything. Sancho became the beloved of Alfonso's old eyes. The young prince was even given Toledo, now the capital in terms of centricity and power; and perhaps even more importantly, it was the site of the treasury.

This, not surprisingly put Count Raimundo's aristocratic nose more than a little out of joint!

Raimundo resented Alfonso's ambitions and Sancho's claims and he turned for assistance to the House of Cluny and in particular, Hugh, its very influential abbot.

Now having established such a firm hold in northern Spain, Cluny was not about to give it up to the fruits of a questionable Moorish liaison. The expansion of the Almoravide influence had cut off a good part of the kingdom's wealth and no longer could the king rely on the "Taifas": the tribute from the Moorish rulers of ther various disputed territories which before had been paid directly to the king.

Coffers which had previously subsidised the building of the vast Abbey of Cluny in France were now drying up and the Cluniac bishop must have had his concerns. What would become of his ambitious building programme? What would happen to the kingdom of Leon and Castille after Alfonso died? Would he partition his kingdom between Sancho, Raimundo and Henry of Portugal? Political instability would have meant disaster. Hugh was forced to take sides. Not surprisingly he went with the French contingent.

Raimundo had to do something to reclaim what he considered his "inheritance". Remember in these days women had little to say and Urraca would have been subject to Raimundo's - and naturally her father's - influence.

A secret agreement was made between the Burgundian cousins, Raimundo and Henry. A letter was sent to Hugh of Cluny which said that in gratitude of Henry's support for Raimundo, Henry would receive Portugal AND a share of the treasury of Toledo (remember - Sancho had been given this by his father). Raimundo in this way was clearly buying Henry off. No need to encourage more claimants than was necessary - cooperation was the best policy and allies were the best friends.

By 1107 - by which time Sancho was but 14 - it was very clear to all that he was Alfonso's heir.

But in the interim, Urraca had done something to gain the upper hand that was all women could do in those days: in the castle at Caldas del Rey in Galicia she gave birth to a son. His name was Alfonso. There was now a clear legitimate heir to the throne of Leon and Castille.

Whether Alfonso VI and Sancho liked it, or not, because of a male child clearly directly in the line of succession, things had become much more complicated than before!

What now?
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Compostela: a sneak peak at my new book...!

Two timelines - the first year of the 21st century, and 1000 years before - a woman finds herself torn between her love, her research, and a powerful bishop's obsessions.

Felix and Laura return to Santiago. Laura has a thesis to write and what place could be more atmospheric than the University of Santiago? The couple, who met while walking the Camino de Santiago, are deeply in love and should be blissfully happy. But as the Galician winter draws in, Laura begins to encounter strange visions in the streets of the old city. Voices tell her she should beware, but of what, and whom? Confused and frightened, Laura becomes aware that she is pushing away the very love that she had once welcomed. Felix hits the Camino once more leaving Laura to enter the past, alone.

Against the backdrop of medieval Compostela, Diego Gelmirez propels himself to prominence as the first archbishop of a growing diocese. Ambitious, shrewd and ruthless, Diego will go to any lengths to protect his cathedral, even to the point of challenging a queen.

In 2010, more than one quarter of a million pilgrims from all around the world are expected to make the pilgrimage to the Shrine of St. James.

But how true is the Legend of Santiago? Who had the most to gain by promoting it?

And who still does...?
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Help Wanted...

You could contribute to the writing of Compostela which is slated for publication in 2010. And since today is The Day of The Dead what better time to ask you for "spooky Camino stories"! If you or anyone you know has somehow experienced the "Supernatural" while walking the Camino routes or especially while in Santiago please do not hesitate to contact me at priscillianmartyr@yahoo.com All messages will be answered, and if I use the story in the book, acknowledged in print.
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The Moorish Threat: Al Mansur...

And so, as Santiago became famous as the conqueror of the Moors, what we need to remember is that at that time during the 10th century, Spain such as we know it now, did not exist. Instead it was a number of small kingdoms: Navarra, Aragon, Leon, Castilla. Most of it was, however, overrun by the Moorish conquerors, most especially, Al Andalus, very loosely, today’s Andalucia. The Caliphate of Córdoba was so powerful as to be a rival to Baghdad. Enter Al-Mansur, also known to the Christians as Almanzor: The Victorious One.

"Al-Mansur" was born Muhammad Ibn Abi Aamir into a noble Arab family. He was not born into the royal circles; in fact he came originally from the strategic port of Algeciras. He eventually arrived at the court of Córdoba as a student studying literature and law. He was an ambitious man and fast rose to power as the manager of the estates of Prince Hisham II and as such he rose to ever increasing positions of influence, ruthlessly eliminating his political rivals along the way. Hisham II became Caliph, but he was only 12 years old. Al-Mansur used his influence and occupied and added to the beautiful new palace on the outskirts of Córdoba called Medina Azahara (Medinat al-Zahra) which can still be seen today. The palace became a city where the royal mint and the administrative quarters of the Caliphate were located. Built by the Caliph Abd al-Rahman III in 940, it is said that his young bride (one of - al-Rahman had hundreds) missed the snows of her native land, and so al-Rahman planted almond trees around the palace so that their blossom in the spring would remind her of her homeland.

Al-Mansur was less romantic. After the death of Al-Rahman III, the heir to the Caliphate, as we have seen, was a mere boy, Hisham. Al-Mansur brought the young ruler under his power so completely that he made him a virtual prisoner in Medina Azahara while Al-Mansur secured his position and carried forward with agendas of his own.

As you can imagine, the court of Córdoba was full of intrigue and Al-Mansur knew that he would have to act ruthlessly if he was to maintain his position of power. This took him into many battles. One of these was in the year 981 when he engaged his last remaining rival, Ghalib Al-Nasiri, in battle. He returned victorious. What was seemingly unimportant to him that the leader of the opposition was his own father-in-law.

Ruthless, as we have said.

Upon his return to Córdoba, he assumed the title Al Mansur bi Allah – Victorious by the grace of God. To the Christians, who had every reason to fear him, he was known as Almanzor.

Al-Mansur’s grip on Al-Andalus was now without challenge. He was absolute ruler. He dedicated himself to military campaigns against the Christian states of the peninsula. He organized and took part in 57 campaigns, and was victorious in all of them. To wage these campaigns against the Christian states, he brought in many Berber mercenaries from what is now Morocco, which upset the political order over time. Although he mainly fought against León and Castilla, in 985 he sacked Barcelona and in 997 he turned his interests towards Compostela.

The church was sacked. He took the doors to use in his navy, and he returned triumphantly with the church bell carried on the back of captured Christian slaves.
The legend says that he spared the tomb of St. James. And this fascinates me. Supposedly he rode into the church upon his horse, but he found a pious monk (perhaps the bishop) in prayer by the side of the tomb who refused to leave the site. Again, legend tells us that he was so taken with this man’s piety that he left the shrine,and the priest, alone.

Now what intrigues me is why would this be? Al Mansur was not known for his mercy. He had attacked Compostela for the simple reason that he knew (and I imagine it hadn’t taken too much for his spies to learn this) that the church contained a rival – and a powerful one at that – to his own beliefs. One which had been promoted as a figurehead to rouse the people of the Christian north against him. It would have been understandable if along with the doors and bells (he burned the new church to the ground) he had returned even more triumphant with the remains of the saint with whom the Christian might of the northern kings had planned to threaten his power.

But he didn’t. Why not?

The compelling thought which grips me is that Al Mansur learned something from this monk; something which enlightened him as to the real remains in the tomb. That is to say, that it did not contain St. James, his nemesis, but someone else. Someone perhaps who posed no threat at all? Someone whose own views were not so dissimilar to those of his own religion. Could he have learned from this monk about Priscillian? We will never know. But there are so many mysteries surrounding this tomb that this is one we should not discount.

Al Mansur was not to enjoy his power for much longer. Within five years he was dead. And a new church was to arise from the ashes of the old one. Supposedly, with its relics still intact.
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St. James is discovered...

A tomb was discovered. It was of considerable size. There was a partition between two areas north to south and there was an opening giving access to the east from the west the first part now considered an atrium of some sort. This was found during excavation in the 19th century but no human remains were to be discovered. In the centre of the eastern chamber there was a rectangular pit which might have been an altar of some kind. Many people seem to have been buried around it by the mid 7th century at the latest. Why no body in the crypt in question?

Remember Sir Francis Drake? He might have been a hero to you when you were at school but he was perhaps literally an unholy threat to Spain and in the mid 16th century and under extreme pressure someone (perhaps the archbishop of the time, we don’t know) recognised the threat it would pose if the English could carry off the remains of Spain’s most sacred martyr; so he, or they, hid the body and they did a really good job. The remains were hidden for 300 years!

Let’s return to earlier times for a moment: from the information we read in connection with the Camino de Santiago it would seem a certainty that it was St. James’ remains that were discovered in the mid 800’s. But, about Pelayo the shepherd/hermit who supposedly discovered the tomb (and even he was airbrushed out in the 12th century) and Bishop Theodemir we know next to nothing. There is nothing written in those years. The king was invited in for a look-see and was only too glad to declare the remains to be St. James, but he had an ultimo motivo as the Moors were knocking on his door. The date could be anywhere in the 9th century but we should aim for 842 at the latest.

So why was Bishop Theodemir so convinced that the remains were those of St. James when there was no evidence up to that point?

Let’s just look at the cult of Saints remains for a moment. In Merida the following saints (or bits of) remains were supposed to rest:

St. John the Baptist
St. Stephen
St. Paul
St. James the Evangelist
St. James (Lesser, the Just: the “brother of Christ”?)
St. Julian
Sta. Eulalia
St. Tirsus
St. Genesus
Sta. Marcella

With the inroad of the Moors, it is thought that these, or some of these saints’ remains were transferred northwards into Asturias and Galicia which seemed safe. Santa Eulalia, for example, remains the patron saint of Merida, but her remains are in Oviedo in Asturias. So what about the others? Well, the cathedral in Oviedo was richly endowed by the king with the arrival of Sta. Eulalia, but the church of St. James in Compostela was nothing but a wattle and daub affair (described as a “modest structure”) with little to commend it. Santa Leocadia was thought to be a very powerful intercession because of her entombment in Toledo had an elaborate church built by Alfonso II in Oviedo. But St. James’ remained somewhat neglected. Why? There may indeed have been a translation of a St. James’(which one? The Greater, the Less, the Just?) relics to Compostela but even if so, this doesn’t explain the existence of a mausoleum three centuries before, nor the proliferation of burial sites close to that mausoleum. At this point we have to truly begin to question the idea of James being buried in Compostela as this is the best evidence so far the historians have been able to suggest.

At this point, interest in St. James, weak as it is already, begins to peter out.
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What we do know about the excavations in Compostela...

...is that there were a large number of human remains found. These seemed to lack grave goods – and remember that the Priscillianists eschewed worldly possessions; their grave sites were aligned east to west - again a Priscillianist practice - and inscriptions on these graves were dated between 400 and 650 considered the limits of Priscillianist influence even though Priscillian died in 385.

We are not allowed to posit the vast impact of Priscillianist influence during these centuries but it swept many parts of Spain and even into the south of France and parts of northern Italy. Many followers of Priscillianism were martyred, many had their lands taken away, others were told to convert to the Roman Church or they would lose everything ( bishops included were thus threatened: the Bishopric of Astorga is a case in point) but how long did the movement stay – as we might say today – underground, in Galicia and the north west?

What fascinates me most is, is it still there in any form?

What is certain is that the burial sites in question did not date from the first century even though others nearby may date back well into Roman times as there is evidence for an even older “compostum”: the more accepted form of Compostela – a burial site, i.e. not the Field of Stars, romantic though it may sound. “The excavations under the sanctuary of the Cathedral were unscientifically conducted and far from adequately recorded,” Fletcher concludes.

So who was buried there? Who were buried beside him? When and why? We may never know. But the evidence of graves oriented to the east (as the Priscillianists did) and the number of people who chose to be buried in that region during Priscillianist and even later unofficially Priscillianist times (the Arian conquerors were sympathetic to his ideas), these may be lost to us forever: destroyed by obfuscation and “bad press”. But, what a scintillating idea if all these pilgrimages were to the final resting place of a so-called “heretic”, yet one whose message is more relevant today than it has been for many centuries. This would be an irony indeed.

No wonder the Catholic Church resists the idea of DNA testing of the remains.
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