Modern critics usually read the vision of Dryhthelm as an account of a man frightened into penitential asceticism even though Bede explains that Dryhthelm lived out his days in the desire for heaven, not fear of punishment. While fear is an important part of Dryhthelm's conversion, Bede depicts the process according to the doctrine of compunction as it is received from Gregory the Great, who presents compunction as a process by which fear of punishment yields to love and the desire for heaven. Reading the conversion of Dryhthelm as a process of Gregorian compunction reveals both Bede's fundamental optimism about the vision Dryhthelm has seen and a spirituality in the text that is more nuanced and positive than the fire and ice that figure so prominently in it. Proceeding from these observations, the paper argues that the celestial topography of Dryhthelm's vision is a spiritual topography — a map of personal and emotional progress through compunction, as understood by Gregory the Great and received by Bede, and only incidentally a map of celestial regions deemed logically necessary by later theologians. These conclusions complicate hellfire and brimstone readings of this and other Anglo-Saxon texts about judgment and penance, and they call for nuanced readings of compunction as a complex and productive experience.

Crowland Abbey was one of many English monasteries after the Norman Conquest to forge documents that claimed a right to permanent sanctuary rooted in the Anglo-Saxon period. Yet Crowland's claims stand out because while other ecclesiastical chronicles that grounded their sanctuary claims in an earlier tradition did so in order to defend those rights in the twelfth century or later, Crowland never claimed this privilege for anything other than the abbey's Anglo-Saxon past. Indeed, I argue that the three forged “Anglo-Saxon” charters that make this assertion, which all appear in the Pseudo-Ingulf section of the abbey's chronicle, the Historia Croylandensis, do so in order to emphasize a more fundamental claim about the institution's authority — its association with one of the most significant fenland saints, Guthlac. Moreover, I argue that the most likely date when this material was forged is the late twelfth century. In the context of the narrative in which they appear, these charters reveal that later medieval Crowland constructed a narrative that saw permanent sanctuary as an important feature of the abbey's Anglo-Saxon past.

The practice of diverting crusaders from one area of conflict to another can be traced back at least as far as the beginning of the twelfth century. Commuting of vows in this way was early recognized to be a papal prerogative and usually involved crusaders who had originally vowed to go to the Holy Land. In the twelfth century commutations occurred on only a few occasions, when steps were taken to divert crusaders to the Iberian Peninsula when it was under serious threat. Commutations became much more frequent in the first half of the thirteenth century and were used to provide manpower against Christians as well as infidels. At that time popes often took the initiative: Gregory IX was anxious to provide help for the Latin Empire of Constantinople and Innocent IV and his successors needed assistance against the Hohenstaufen. The papacy did not, however, coerce crusaders, and many refused to commute their vows. Criticism of commuting was voiced, although the redeeming of vows for money attracted greater opprobrium. Commuting became less common in the closing decades of the thirteenth century, but the reasons for this decline are not explained in the sources and can only be conjectured.

Peter Lombard's influential commentary on the Pauline Epistles, the Collectanea in omnes divi Pauli epistolas, has received little extended analysis in scholarly literature, despite its recognized importance both in its own right and as key for the development of his Sentences. This article presents a new approach to studying the Collectanea by analyzing how Lombard's commentary builds on the Glossa “Ordinaria” on the Pauline Epistles. The article argues for treating the Collectanea as a “historical act,” focusing on how Lombard engages with the biblical text and with authoritative sources within which he encounters the same biblical text embedded. The article further argues for the necessity of turning to the manuscripts of both the Collectanea and the Glossa, rather than continuing to rely on inadequate early modern printed editions or the Patrologia Latina. The article then uses Lombard's discussion of faith at Romans 1:17 as a case study, demonstrating the way in which Lombard begins from the Glossa, clarifies its ambiguities, and moves his analysis forward through his use of other auctoritates and theological quaestiones. A comparison with Lombard's treatment of faith in the Sentences highlights the close links between Lombard's biblical lectures and this later work. The article concludes by arguing that scholastic biblical exegesis and theology should be treated as primarily a classroom activity, with the glossed Bible as the central focus. Discussion of Lombard's work should draw on much recent scholarship that has begun to uncover the layers of orality within the textual history of scholastic works.

This is a study of an apocalyptic Latin letter (incipit “Ad flagellum humani generis”), surviving in manuscripts from the mid-thirteenth to fourteenth centuries, that describes an apparent aggressive invasion of an ascetic army in the distant East, led by a figure claiming to be Christ and bearing a new volume of scripture. This article offers the first comprehensive study of the letter's manuscript tradition and presents a new critical edition of the text. It argues that this letter was composed in the crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem sometime in the years 1235–36 as a response to intelligence brought by eastern Christian envoys (quite possibly from Georgia or Greater Armenia) concerning the second wave of Mongol invasions in Transcaucasia. These envoys had spent some time in the presence of a Mongol army, possibly that of the general Chormaghan, receiving an edict that probably demanded their submission and stated the Mongols’ divine right to universal domination. This edict, accompanied by other information, was ultimately translated into Latin for the benefit of the authorities of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. These authorities interpreted both the edict and the oral and/or written intelligence that the eastern Christian envoys delivered within the intellectual framework of Latin Christianity. This particular interpretation was then written into a letter that was sent to Western Europe, where it circulated probably quite widely for around a century. Crusade theorists’ need for intelligence about the Middle and Far East, together with the vogue of apocalyptic prophecy in the later Middle Ages, encouraged the continued copying of the text.

That women felt and men thought has long been the predominant lens through which medieval Christian writing has been analyzed. The work of the religious women vernacular theologians, or Beguines, who emerged across North Europe from the twelfth to the thirteenth centuries has therefore often been dismissed as affective mysticism. Recent scholarship has begun to re-appraise this work and re-evaluate its place within the Christian tradition. This paper looks at the work of Hadewijch, a thirteenth-century mystical poet from Brabant in the Netherlands who, though less well known than other Beguines such as Hildegaard of Bingen and Marguerite Porete, may, as John Arblaster and Paul Verdeyen argue, “rightly be called the greatest poetic genius in the Dutch language.” It is probable that her work was not widely known during her lifetime (not, that is, directly), but research is strengthening the argument that her theology was transmitted via the works of John of Ruusbroec. This paper will attend both to Hadewijch's poesy and her theology and ask what the dynamic structure in her verse — its shifts of perspective, gender perspective, and non-linear narrative — might lead us to grasp about her theology.

In the late Middle Ages, authors of fiction, historical texts, and travel narratives discussed issues related to the places and spaces of marvels. Writers debated whether local, western occurrences could be as wondrous — and thus worthy of being recorded in writing — as foreign, eastern phenomena. This article explores how Boccaccio's engagement with Dante was intertwined with evolving views of the marvelous. It proposes that Boccaccio, following Dante, likened his writings to natural marvels to defend the status of literature, a mode of discourse sometimes considered unnatural or fraudulent. In addition, this research examines how Boccaccio drew on marvels to highlight differences between the properties and ethics of Dante's Comedy and these aspects of his Decameron. In addressing these topics, Boccaccio was inspired by late medieval Latin historians, who foregrounded the novelty of their texts by self-consciously writing about western marvels. In the Decameron, Boccaccio recalled ideas about local marvels to champion the dignity of his erotic, mundane stories in comparison to Dante's otherworldly, divine poem. Boccaccio thus also reminded readers not only to wonder about future, eternal matters, but to cherish the experiences of this our present life.

This article examines Albert the Great's interpretation of John 1:7 concerning John the Baptist: “He came as a witness, to testify about the Light, so that all might believe through him.” Commenting on this verse, Albert develops the idea that the metaphysical approach to God, according to which the notion of God is purified of all sensory images, must be completed by a method that is more connatural to the human being: testimonial knowledge, that is, relying on the senses and imagination, using the metaphors that God himself has suggested through his revelation. Albert's reading of John 1:7 is found to be in continuity with key ideas elsewhere in his oeuvre.

Congesta, written about the middle of the fifteenth century in England and only partially preserved, is a massive sermon commentary, originally in five volumes, covering the Sundays of the church year, some feast days and common sermons for saints, and two special occasions (“In Time of Persecution” and “For Religious”). Of the entire cycle only forty-six sermons are extant in two manuscripts (Oxford, Magdalen College MSS 96 and 212). The commentary deals at great length with the Epistle or Gospel lection of the respective Mass. Its anonymous author, probably an English Carthusian, excerpted long passages from over 130 named authors and anonymous works, including Petrus Berchorius, Saint Brigid of Sweden, and the Imitatio Christi. The sermons, which are basically moral postillation of the lections and show much concern with the qualities of a good pastor, can be seen as part of the reforming tendencies in the English church marked especially by Thomas Gascoigne. The article describes and discusses the sermon cycle, analyzes the sermon for 23 Trinity, and discusses the structure of the sermons and some of the authors of the later Middle Ages that are quoted or excerpted. An appendix lists the authors and anonymous works quoted in alphabetical order.