And was the holy Lamb of God,
On Englands pleasant pastures seen!
- And did those feet, William Blake

søndag 30. juni 2019

Two views from the cabin



A little lowly Hermitage it was,
Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side
- Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene (Booke 1, Canto 1)



This weekend I've been spending some time in the old family cabin, something I always look forward to when I return home from a prolonged stay abroad. With some provisions and a book I moved in yesterday afternoon and came back today about 25 hours later, having enjoyed the weather yesterday that permitted me to take a few short excursions into the woods and along the river, and also the weather today that forced me to stay inside with a roaring fire in the stove and the sound of rain hammering on the roof. It is an old structure which used to serve as the sleeping quarters - similar to a Scottish shieling - for the milkmaids who stayed with the cows of our farm all summer to milk them. In the 1950s, the cabin received its present shape and position when it was moved and expanded with a kitchen and a bedroom. These cabins are common in Norway as most farms had their own, and at the very least were co-owners of one together with some neighbours. Now, however, there is no longer any need for milkmaids, and we do no longer have dairy cows on our farm. Consequently, the cabin has become a little refuge to which we retreat when we want to take a break and feel less involved in the world, quite like a little hermitage. 










torsdag 27. juni 2019

Ana Vidovic, Pierre Bensusan and a Norwegian mood


Even her wretched weather
was poetry- Derek Walcott, Exile



Norwegian summers are the best types of summers when they are comprised of a good balance between warm and chilly, wet and dry, and so I have been anticipating with great excitement the coming weeks which I will spend among the mountains back in the fjords. However, so far it has been a rather cold and wet summer, and in the days ahead we are likely to encounter more of the same. It is not what I had hoped for, and I'm already starting to feel tired of it. But at times I forget the duration of this weather and I catch myself becoming immersed in this particular pensive, dreaming mood that emerges late at night in the fjords and which feel out of time. Last night I experienced this mood as I sat with a cup of warm tea in the living room of my grandparents' house and saw the enveloping darkness without. And so I stepped out on the verandah and enjoyed this familiar darkness, while I listened to Ana Vidovic's performance of Pierre Bensusan's guitar piece Altiplanos, a song that for me evokes the highland plateaus of Morocco, which might - to a descendant of Jewish refugees fleeing Spain in 1492 - have appeared as a memento of those Spanish plateaus left behind generations ago. This instrumental, pregnant with a mood of longing and exile, felt to me very suitable for how I felt as I stood at home, having returned to my village after years living abroad in a voluntary - and immensely beneficial and pleasurable - academic exile in Denmark.







Ana Vidovic plays Pierre Bensusan's Altiplanos








onsdag 26. juni 2019

The round medieval earth - evidence from Sanderum Church


and the flat earth becomes a ball
- William Blake, The Mental Traveller


It is a perennial plight for a medievalist to engage in discussions about how people in the Middle Ages understood the shape of the earth. The correct answer to this question is that people in the Middle Ages of all walks of life and of all geographical locations knew that the world was round. There should be no debate about this, as the amount of evidence to support this is overwhelming. However, the idea that at least some people in the Middle Ages believed the earth to be flat is an extremely pernicious one. Consequently, once it is proved by reference to any of the medieval texts that mention  the sphericity of the earth, or any of the illuminations from medieval manuscripts depicting the world as round, or the reference to the hemisphere - which necessitates a spherical earth - the riposte is very often along the following lines: It is all well and good what the learned knew to be true, but what about the common people? This question comes in several guises, often suggesting that the knowledge of the round earth was hidden, either deliberately or incidentally, from the commoners by the Church, and often with a strong undertone of classism, as if refusing to accept that people not educated in the schools and at the universities could attain the knowledge that the earth was round. The answer to the question "what about the common people?" is that they, too, had full access to the idea of the earth being round. In this blogpost, I wish to present evidence for this assertion from Sanderum Church, a Romanesque church built in the latter half of the twelfth century and situated on the outskirts of modern-day Odense in Denmark.  



Sanderum Church

The apsis of Sanderum Church, a survival from the Romanesque period



As stated, one very common notion about the knowledge of the sphericity of the earth in the Middle Ages is that it was somehow kept out of sight of the commoners. The seed of this idea lies in the historiographical midden that is comprised of Protestant anti-Catholic sentiments, Enlightenment Era anti-clerical sentiments, and the fusion of the two former sentiments as found in Washington Irving's novelisation of the life of Christopher Columbus. What has grown from this idea is the thought that the Church prevented the spread of the knowledge that the earth was round. To this day, I am still unable to understand exactly what the motive for this should have been. The simple response to this idea, however, is that it is completely false. As I aim to demonstrate in this blogpost, not only did the Church not pursue an intellectual blockade of the knowledge that the earth was round, the Church actively disseminated the idea of the world as a sphere in its own houses, i.e. in the art of the churches themselves.

Two examples of the image of the round earth can be found in the decorations of Sanderum Church. As mentioned, the church itself dates to the latter half of the twelfth century, but the current ceiling, roof, and vaulting date from the latter half of the fifteenth century, and this was a period when many of Denmark's medieval churches were decorated with splendid frescoes depicting narratives of the Old Testament, the New Testament, the apocrypha, and the stories of the saitns. In the transept of Sanderum Church, for instance, we see the final judgement and scenes from the life of Christ in the four sections of the vault. As can be seen below, the first image greeting the churchgoers as they move up the nave is Christ in majesty.


The vault of the transept of Sanderum Church
The paintings are from the fifteenth century


Christ in majesty is perhaps the most common motif from medieval church art, as this was the most important message of the New Testament: Christ conquered death and has thus made it possible for mortal humans to attain everliving happiness in Heaven. In these depictions of Christ, the spherical earth plays an important role, either as being held by Christ in his hand or situated by Christ's feet. The origin of this iconography is Isaiah 66:1 where God, speaking through the prophet, states that the earth is His footstool. This is echoed in Matthew 5:35, where Christ says that one should not swear by the earth, as it is God's footstool. This iconography is therefore the perfect vehicle for depicting the shape of the earth in medieval church art, and this is exactly what was done.



Christ in majesty


In the fifteenth-century judgement scene of Sanderum Church, the earth is placed by the wounded feet of Christ, and it shows the earth in accordance with medieval geographical learning: The three continents of the northern hemisphere is shown, divided into three by rivers and oceans. The largest continent is Asia, covering half the hemisphere and its easternmost end located on the top of the globe. In this case, a tree is growing out of it, and this is presumably the tree of life growing in Eden. Asia is separated from the rest of the hemisphere by the river Tanais going northwards and the river Nile going southwards. The other half of the hemisphere is covered by Europe and Africa, divided by the Mediterranean. This projection is typically called a T-O map because it resembles a T inside an O, and the centre of the map is Jerusalem. The southern hemisphere, the antipodes, is not depicted, but known to exist underneath the hemisphere depicted.  


The spherical earth and its northern hemisphere, with the tree of life growing out of Eden


What is important about the depiction of the earth in Sanderum Church is that this image of the round world was accessible to everyone entering into the church. It was a part of the most important scene in the entire pictorial programme of the church space, and it is anything but hidden from view. In this way, the authorities of the church in Sanderum actively displayed the earth in its spherical shape.

In addition to the earth depicted in the judgement scene, there is also another depiction of the earth in this church. This image, too, is easy to see for the churchgoers, although perhaps not as visible to everyone and certainly not occupying as central a position as the fresco of Christ in majesty. The image in question is found as part of a scene on the inside of the arc that connects the transept with the choir, as seen below.


Saint Christopher carrying the Christ Child


The image in question is the most famous scene from the life of Saint Christopher, showing him carrying the infant Christ on his shoulders across a river. Saint Christopher is an old inclusion in the Christian catalogue of saints, and in the later Middle Ages he became particularly popular in Northern Europe as one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers, a semi-fixed collegium of saints whose efficacy was believed to be particularly good in times of acute trouble. From the late fourteenth century onwards, there have survived a plethora of images in stained glass, wall paintings and carvings where the viewer can behold the carrying of the Christ Child.

What is interesting about the depiction of Christ in this scene from Sanderum is that it also shows Christ holding the spherical earth between his left hand and his left knee, almost like a child's ball. The representation of the earth is exactly as in judgement scene, with the one exception that instead of a tree growing out of Eden, Christ's hand is placed there instead. Saint Christopher, in what appears to be the moment of realisation when he understands the identity of his passenger, tilts his head and appears to be looking straight at Jerusalem. Whether or not this latter symbolism in Christopher's line of sight is deliberate or just a happy accident, the view of the earth is crystal clear: It is round, its northern hemisphere is divided into three parts, and it is a part of God's creation.


Christopher seeing the round earth


What I hope to be abundantly clear from seeing the two depictions of the earth in the pictorial programme of Sanderum Church is that these depictions were easily accessible to anyone entering the church, regardless of social standing and regardless of gender. The spherical earth was deliberately shown in the church art as a way of highlighting the omnipotence of God, showing the earth as His footstool and showing the earth in His hands, round and detailed in accordance with the established geographical knowledge of the time. It should, therefore, be no further arguments about the accessibility of the knowledge of the round earth in the Middle Ages, as it was knowledge placed in clear view right in the middle of the church.


tirsdag 25. juni 2019

Jonsok - the Wake of Saint John the Baptist



Yesterday was the feast of John the Baptist, which is one of few saints of the liturgical calendar whose main feast is the day of birth rather than the day of death. In Norway, this feast is traditionally called jonsok, which is a compression of jonsvaka, which means the wake of Saint John [the Baptist]. We celebrate this feast even today, and it is marked by a large bonfire on the evening before the feast itself, i.e. the evening of June 23. This bonfire is known in my part of the country as briseld - with some neighbouring communities using the variant priseld - which comes from the Old Norse bris (meaning shining or glimmering) and eld (meaning fire, still used in modern Norwegian). The tradition of lighting a bonfire is very old and can be found in variants throughout Western Europe. According to a medieval belief recorded by Jacobus de Voragine in Legenda Aurea (c.1260), these bonfires originated as a means to keep away dragons in order to prevent them from ejaculating their semen into wells and springs, thereby poisoning them. Whether this has ever been the rationale behind the practice is now impossible to say, as the roots of this tradition is lost in the mists of time. Regardless of its origin, however, I'm always happy to see the bonfire burning amidst mountains on one of the brighest nights of the calendar year. I therefore present to you some images from the day as it unfolded in my native village, Hyen.




Underway to the celebration, c. 7 in the evening


Shortly after the bonfire has been lit, c. 8 in the evening


The remains of the fire can faintly be seen in the distance.
The smoke is visible against the forested mountainside
Around midnight.


Around midnight.

Around one in the morning.