Abstract
The Fleury R a isin g o f L azarus and Twelfth-Century Currents of Thought Kathleen M. Ashley For the non-theologian attempting to understand the intel lectual background of medieval literature, undoubtedly one of the most influential modem essays has been the last chapter in R. W. Southern’s The Making of the Middle AgesA The chapter puts the twelfth-century literary shift from epic to romance— from the Chanson de Roland to Chretien de Troyes—into the broader perspective of a whole society newly interested in spiritual introspection and human emotions, and delineates succinctly the parallel theological shift from the “Abuse of Power” doctrine to a theory of redemption in which Christ’s humanity was the functional element. The model Southern proposed for distinguishing early from late medieval art, literature, and piety was immediately per suasive because of its clarity and elegance, but its very appli cability may have had the unfortunate result of blunting the sensibilities of those who read later medieval religious literature because their expectations were formed before they actually confronted the text. (The text had been “pre-read,” so to speak.) Southern himself points out that the emphasis on Christ’s humanity was not felt everywhere in Europe at the same time. It should therefore come as no surprise that there would be a period of transition during which both the older and the newer emphases might co-exist in various combinations. In this paper I would like to propose that the Raising of Lazarus from the Fleury playbook exhibits just such transitional features. Considerable injustice is done to this play if we attempt to restrict it exclusively to one mold when its distinctiveness lies in the fact that elements of both the newer and the older theology are combined in the character of Christ and the meaning given the action by the twelfth-century dramatist, who 139 has enriched the biblical story by means of the intellectual emphases of his day. In order to appreciate the twelfth-century dramatic version we must first return to the meanings which earlier commentators perceived in the biblical narrative of John 11.1-45. According to these exegetes, the Lazarus story provided evidence for both Christ’s historical humanity and his supernatural powers. The Lazarus miracle was seen as proof of Christ’s divinity, and as a préfiguration of his own resurrection; the power thus mani fested was further a sign of the power which could release all sinners from their spiritual death. The Lazarus story thus pro vided the perfect setting for the image of Christus Victor, the resurrected Christ, triumphant in his divinity over the power and wiles of Satan, sin, and death. At the same time, the biblical story says that “Jesus wept” (John 11.35) over the grave of Lazarus, and this was taken in all exegesis as evidence of Christ’s human affections and thus as definitive proof of his humanity.2 Some early theologians like Clement of Alexandria, much influenced by Stoic philo sophy to elevate the virtue of impassibility, the imperviousness to all transient human emotions, had presented a Stoic Christ, serenely and immutably above the fray of human emotional and physical life; this is the image of the crucifixion presented in most early sculptures, illuminations, and hymns.3 But the Lazarus story suggested an Incarnate Savior whose emotions were truly human, whose affections could be moved by love and sorrow, and it thus became a crux for theological discus sions of Christ’s humanity. To cite the most eminent theologian of the twelfth century, Bernard of Clairvaux, who calls on the model of a grieving Christ to justify his own expressions of grief on the death of his brother Gerard: Ille flevit compatiendo, et ego patiendo non audeam? Et certe ad tumulum Lazari nec fientes arguit, nec a fletu prohibuit, insuper et flevit cum flentibus: Et lacrymatus est, inquit, Jesus. Fuerunt lacrymae illae testes profecto naturae, non indices diffidentiae. Denique et prodiit mox ad vocem ejus qui erat mortuus, ne continuo putes fidei praejudicium dolentis affectum. Sic nec fletus utique noster infidelitatis est signum, sed conditionis indicium. (PL 183.911) He wept over the sorrows of others...
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