I find my self in the most disheartening of situations an artist can find herself in - lack of inspiration. In terms of my creative side I have several projects going on at once. This is because sometimes if one thing does not strike my fancy to do I go on to another project, do a little here, a little there - that sort of thing. But for the past month nothing, absolutely nothing. My Muse has been deathly silent, or lost and confused.
By Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
The cult of relics, was not just an interesting piece of religious phenomenology. It was a constant, potent, and often spectacular witness to the power of Christianity, countering latent heathenism, bolstering shaky belief, and enhancing the influence of those who taught adherence to the Divine Will, the only possible fount of this miraculous power.
Nor is it exclusive to the Catholic Church. Veneration of the dead was common amongst many, if not all, people. For example, when Buddha died in 483BC his remains were distributed and were housed in buildings called stupus. Even the remains of Confucius began to be venerated in the year 195BC by the Emperor Kao Tsu, and it is continued to this day. The Romans had a similar practice of going and visiting the graves of their relatives. The oddballs in all of this were the Jewish people; they “recognized the veneration of the dead especially of deceased heroes” as stated in the Mosaic Law. But unlike the other cultures of the time, it is not certain if the Jewish people applied a strong religious angle to their burial practices. They feared falling into idolatrous behavior and so suppressed human representation in any form. But in the Old Testament of the Bible the stories of Elisha, in which a dead man was cast unto the bones of Elijah and upon contact came back to life, and Elijah, in which nature reacted to the touch of Elijah's mantle, allow for an early foundation for the cult of relics. There is even less in the New Testament, but the new converts in the time of Saint Paul began dispersing objects that had once belonged to the Apostles. A good example of this comes straight from the Acts of the Apostles, retelling that “God did extraordinary miracles by the hands of Paul, so that handkerchiefs or aprons were carried away from his body to the sick, and diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them.” This act of trying to get close to Saint Paul led to the practice of distributing brandea, which are cloths that laid “in contact with the remains of the holy apostles”. There has always been a need to be near the holy dead ever since the Early Church as seen with Saint Peter. Evidence shows that many Christians visited Saint Peter's grave and left messages asking him to pray for people. There were also Christian burials, no less then six, near the first Pope's tomb so that they could be near him in death.
The Apostles were not the only ones that the Christians wanted to get a piece of; the new witnesses to the faith were the martyrs giving up their lives for Christ. The Martyrdom of Saint Polycarp recounts the tale of the passion and martyrdom of St Polycarp, who was the bishop of Smyrna, who is worth noting for his aid in resolving the Easter date dispute. There was some difficulty for the Christians of Smyrna retrieving Saint Polycarp's remains, but once they had the remains, they treated them with honor in a religious sense. The Christians did not, as some feared, treat Saint Polycarp as a 'new Christ', but as a member of the mystical body of Christ. Each year after that, the faithful gathered on the anniversary of his martyrdom and celebrated it as a holy feast day. Saint Polycarp was not the only one of the first martyrs to receive such honors. During the persecutions, the supply of martyrs became quite plentiful and the veneration of relics spread as fast as it could across the early Church. Professor Thomas explains that “the Mediterranean owes much, for its physical development, to the evolution of the martyrium or the memoria, the visible … burial-place of a sanctified person.” Christians would gather at these martyria and celebrate the witness of the martyr. Sometimes, these gatherings were accompanied by liturgical celebrations resulting in small shrines begin built over the tombs; the greatest example of this is that of Saint Peter on the Vatican Hill outside of Rome. The catacombs of the early Christians revealed the devotion they had to their dead, stemming from the belief in an afterlife and the resurrection of the body. Since the body was resting temporarily, it only made sense for the Christians to take care of the deceased, since the deceased were going to use it again. In treating the dead to a decent burial nurtured a spiritual connection to fellow Christian brethren in heaven through their corporal remains.
It was not until the Edict of Milan and the Peace of Constantine I that the veneration really began to take off. The small monuments over the graves of martyrs were soon transformed into beautiful sanctuaries and basilicas, with Constantine leading the way with the Basilica over Saint Peter's tomb. When churches were not built over a martyr's resting place, martyrs were brought to rest within the new church, most often directly enshrined in the altar. This link between altar and relics was partially inspired by Revelation 6:9, in which John said he “saw under the altar the souls of those whose had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they had borne,” when the fifth seal was opened.
This, however, came into conflict with the Roman Law of the time; the “Theodosian Code contained severe penalties against the spoliation of graves”. So when a martyr's remains were moved, it was an exceptional event that happened with a very strong reason or even clandestinely. It was not until the eighth century that the penalties were relaxed, thus allowing Popes to authorized a great number of saints' bodies to be moved. It is hard to determine when exactly the practice of venerating fragments of the saint came into being, but it was widespread during the fourth century. The fragments were that of bone or congealed blood, but they were so highly valued that the actual cases that held them were richly decorated and “excessive amounts of money were invested in the shrines that housed them.”
The cases were called reliquaries and they developed alongside the veneration of relics. The earliest reliquaries were essentially boxes, either simply box-shaped or based on an architectural design like a church, such as the reliquary of Saint Colette. With the discovery of the True Cross, relics from the 9th century onwards were housed in magnificent gold and silver cross-shaped reliquaries, decorated with enamels and precious stones. From about the end of the 10th century, reliquaries in the shape of the relics they housed also became popular, for example the skull of Pope Saint Alexander I is housed in a head-shaped reliquary. Similarly, the bones of saints were often housed in reliquaries that recalled the shape of the original body part, such as an arm or a foot, such as the heart of Saint Clare of Montefalco, which resides in a reliquary that is a bust of the saint and the heart can be seen in the chest portion of the bust.
Whenever a saint was moved, it was called a translation; a translation is is the removal of holy objects from one locality, such as a tomb, to another, usually a reliquary or under an altar in a church. Translations can take different forms, including all-night vigils, and the carrying of the precious remains in a reliquary of gold or silver, overshadowed with silken canopies. These acts of translation allowed the holy dead which had “once been exclusively [belonging] to communities scattered throughout the Roman world” to be more accessible to the faithful everywhere. With relics being enshrined in churches everywhere, the faithful no longer had to travel over a dangerous distances. But with such a popular demand for relics, many times these translations were done by stealth. A good example of this can be found in the Translation of Sainte Foy or Saint Faith, in which a monk named Arinisdus is sent to get the relics of Saint Foy from Agen by his superoirs from the monastery Conques “for the salvation of the country and the redemption of many people.” The monk establishes himself within the community of Agen, keeping his real intent secret, and comes to be greatly respected there. After a time, Arinisdus is placed as the guardian of the church, allowing his access to Saint Foy. When the opportunity arises, he breaks into the Saint's tomb and 'reverently' takes the bones. On his journey back to Corques, he, surprisingly, evades his pursuers; even when they are looking right at him, they cannot recognize him. Arinisdus reaches Corques safely, and Saint Foy in entombed in a new reliquary, and Agen is minus one saint.
The writer of the translation wished to do so in a positive sense, casting Arinisdus as a heroic man working for the betterment of souls. For Arinisdus stealing the relics of Saint Foy was a spiritual exercise. If the monastery of Corques was working against the will of God, then Arinisdus would have been caught red-handed; nor did the miracles surrounding Saint Foy's relics cease. If the miracles had stopped, it would have been seen as a sign that saint had been dishonored in some way. Many translations followed a similar pattern as the 'holy' theft of Saint Foy, but not all translations of relics were done by deceit. The approval of bishops was sought to move a saint's remains before anything else would be done. There are several names that are predominate in the realm of relic theft, though they are often called relic merchants to keep their actions honorable ones.
In the ninth century there was Deusdona, a deacon of the Church, who was “no occasional thief but rather the head of a large and highly organized group of relic merchants.” He worked mostly in Italy, his most notable acquisition being the relics of Saints Peter and Marcellinus. Then there was Felix, who was a rather well known merchant and sold relics all over Europe. Later on in the tenth century, King Athelstan of England was known for his passion in collecting relics and his small concern for how his suppliers got the merchandise. One such supplier was Electus, who tried to get the relics of Saint Bertulfus to sell to the King, but was caught before he could even get to the King.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
This has always been a favorite poem of mine. Enjoy!
