Final Feasting, Fasting and Holiness

Alice Mulhearn Word Count: 7493

Fasting, Feasting and Holiness in the Early Middle Ages

“A satisfied soul loathes the honeycomb,but to a hungry soul every bitter thing is

sweet.”

- Book of Proverbs 27:7

Introduction

There is nothing quite as nourishing, as culturally defining, as joyous in its plenty

and devastating in its absence, as food. A society’s attitude to this basic necessity

is as valuable as any artefact in revealing its cultural, economic, and religious

history. This paper will trace the movement of ideas concerning desert

monasticism – the ‘symbolic desert’ - from East to West through the cultural

paradigm of consumption. By focusing on feasting and fasting in the lives of the

Desert Fathers in the third and fourth centuries and the religious communities of

Merovingian Gaul, ideas about society, the body and the holy will be explored

and uncovered.

Recent studies on the spread of monasticism from East to West have focused on

the reshaping of asceticism to a new model of communal religious life. Studies

have focused on how the prescriptive texts such as The Sayings of the Desert

Fathers took the physical realities of the desert and created a set of rules that

could be scaled down and applied to everyday life in the religious communities

of Merovingian Gaul.1 In order to understand the shift between the physical

desert and the metaphorical one, historians have focused on the power relations

of the religious communities themselves and how the prescriptions of the Desert

Fathers translated into Merovingian life. However, one source that has been

greatly neglected in forming a picture of these two models of holiness is food.

Medieval historians’ dismissal of eating habits as nothing more than a novel

1 P. Rousseau, Ascetics, Authority, And the Church in the Age of Jerome and Cassian, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), 183-198

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historical stage setting is addressed by Bonnie Effros.2 Effros sees individual

consumption as an expression of wider social experience.3 Through studying the

rituals of feasting and fasting she draws a connection between consumption and

the consolidation of community. Effros’ historical approach uses the unique but

effective lens of ‘orifice history’ to understand religious communities in

Merovingian Gaul;4 her aim is to piece together a picture of macro society by

studying it from within, starting from the ‘orifice’.

Although Effros’ study forms a picture of how food helped shaped Merovingian

Gaul, what her approach focuses less on is how a changing religious theology

shaped attitudes towards food and holiness. This historical study does not

necessarily have to derive its focus from the ‘orifice’ and conclude with the

community: theological developments, demographic evolvement and social

change all filtered down to affect attitudes towards consumption. The

transmission of theology did not take a direct route from Bible to plate, or desert

to Gaul; instead it was an osmotic process. Therefore, by studying the complex

flow of ideas surrounding consumption, I hope to gain a better understanding of

the larger theological and physical shift from the Desert to Gaul.

2 B. Effros, Creating Community with Food and Drink in Merovingian Gaul, (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 3 3 Effros, Creating Community, 1-84 L. Coon, ‘Creating Community with Food and Drink in Merovingian Gaul: A Review’, Speculum 80 (2005), 215

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Theological Discussion

It is a rare occurrence that the mundane aspects of human’s existence transcend

beyond anything more than bodily necessities. When magic does happen, it is

through turning the ordinary on its head. Jesus’ miracle of turning water into

wine was holy because it not only defied the laws of physics, but also turned a

basic resource into a drink loaded with spiritual and cultural meaning. In the

same way of course, bread - the constant of most societies’ diets – becomes holy

in the Eucharist. In the Bible miracles are often sourced from the mundane, but it

is the physical hand of God that brings holiness. Thus, the question arises, how

can holiness be achieved when there is no physical presence to turn water into

wine?

The Desert Fathers’ answer to this question was asceticism: the straining and

suppression of the body to allow the presence of God to flood the soul. In order

to derive holiness from the ordinary, the individual had to stretch the human

body so far that it became exceptional. In a similar way to saintly miracles,

fasting pushed the boundaries of human physicality to produce an invitation for

God’s presence.

Scholars offer differing explanations for fasting’s role for both society and the

individual. The question of whether fasting should be an act of gratitude or

penance arises throughout theological thought in the Early Middle Ages. On the

one hand, abstention can be seen as a way of orientating gratitude towards God,5

whilst on the other, Old Testament models of fasting are most often interpreted

as acts of reparation for worldly sins.6 In this interpretation, humanity is

burdened with innate sin and an eternal debt to the Creator – a vulnerability that

is recognized and protected through the act of fasting. Additionally, attempting

to control the weaknesses of the human condition was a way of transcending the

physical boundaries of the human flesh. Veronika Grimm explains that through

depriving the body of the pleasure of food, the eventual experience of eating

becomes almost unworldly in its intensity.7 The complexity of ideas concerning

5 A.F.M. Montaya, The Theology of Food, (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell Publishing, 2009), 1546 A. Hagen, Anglo-Saxon Food, (Ely: Anglo-Saxon Books, 2006), 3937 V. Grimm, From Feasting to Fasting: The Evolution of Sin, (New York: Routledge, 2002),182

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the purpose and effect of fasting is telling of the numerous roles played by food.

On the one hand, fasting is a way of recognizing the vulnerability of our

existence, whilst on the other it enables an individual to transcend the banalities

of the human condition to become closer to God.

Abstention from food is so symbolic in itself that historians often neglect the

holiness of consumption. Bread, for example, has become a symbol of power

through its role in the Last Supper and form in the Eucharist.8 Grimm interprets

the breaking of the bread as having both a symbolic and functional purpose: on

the one hand, it is a devotion to the simple common meal and on the other it

represents the original ritual of the Christian daily service.9 Regardless of

whether a person was sitting down to a feast or merely sharing bread, the act of

eating brought together communities in mutual thanks.

Faced with such colourful images of ascetic holy men and woman, it is common

for historians to neglect the fact that for the majority of people, such behaviour

was both unattainable and undesired. Instead, one can identify the integration of

modest feasts and fasts into everyday religious life. Michael Mann identifies the

ideological power that converted fasting into a religious statement that

connected together cultural communities.10 As highlighted by Gannon and Traub,

these symbolic acts had to combine with worldly experience so that God did not

become another scrap of mysticism.11 Thus, the fast became more than a sign for

individual ascetic virtue - it served as a physical symbol of a communal

religiosity.

8 C. Mazzoni, The Women in God's Kitchen: Cooking, Eating, and Spiritual Writing, (London: Continuum, 2006), 279 Grimm, From Feasting to Fasting, 7310 M. Mann, The Sources of Social Power: Volume I, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 2311 T.M. Gannon and G.W. Traub, The Desert and the City: An Interpretation of the History of Christian Spirituality, (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1969), 282

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The Desert Fathers

Athanasius of Alexandria wrote that by the fourth century, “the desert had

become a city”. Whilst this image contrasts with the common ideal of the Desert

Father – a lone wonderer in pursuit of inner sanctity - it does emphasis the rapid

growth of desert monasticism after its beginnings in the third century. This

growth reflected Athanasius’ vision of an episcopally instructed practice that

connected a physically individualist practice to the pastoral authority of the

Church.12 Subsequently, asceticism became an essential part of the Orthodox

Church and in turn, created an image of the ‘true monk’.13 This holy man did not

take one form. He could be a hermit or equally legitimately, live in an organised

holy community. However, whilst the formation of the monk’s life could change,

his position in the desert was expected. Jerome described the divisions of

monastic life, placing the practices of the city-dwelling renmuoth in an inferior

category to the hermits and cenobites of the desert.14 This solitary wilderness

was both a metaphor and a reality for the isolated prayer and meditation of the

majority of hermit colonies.15 Being an existence centred on asceticism, the life of

the Desert Father was inextricably connected to the sinful, symbolic and worldly

nature of consumption.

Food was the desert for the Eastern ascetics. Physical nourishment was as

limited as the barrenness of the environment would suggest. However,

consumption was not merely restricted by the harshness of the terrain, but

inspired by the purity of the desert. The infertility of the environment provided a

physical symbol of the inner training of the monk’s body. In the desert’s

barrenness, Saint Antony finds the perfect environment to control the

interconnected sins of sexual desire and gluttony.16 Even when withdrawn from

the temptations and sin of society, the body created its own battleground of

12 D. Brakke, Athanasius and Asceticism, (Liverpool: John Hopkins University Press, 1998), 12013 M. Dunn, The Emergence of Monasticism: from the Desert Fathers to the Early Middle Ages, (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2003), 10 14 Dunn, The Emergence of Monasticism, 12 15 Dunn, The Emergence of Monasticism, 14 16 Antony, Letter 1, in S. Rubenson, The Letters of St. Antony. Monasticism and the Making of a Saint, (Minneapolis, 1995), pp.199-200

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temptation that could be controlled only by managing the mind. Prescriptions for

life in the desert emphasised the fact that a monk should not look for an external

system to follow, but to experiment with the practice of training the inner man

against the inhospitable background of the desert.17 By placing their bodies in an

environmental emptiness, the Holy Men laid bare all of the convoluted vices,

emotions and desires of man. Thus, the internal detoxification of self-directed

fasting was the subsequent step to an environmental detoxification.

One of the most well known examples of a Desert Father’s self-directed

embodiment of the desert is Simeon Stylites. In Simeon’s approach to fasting one

can see, in parts an exact replication of Jesus’s fasts18, and in others an abuse of

the human body so extreme that it became mysticism. His relationship with food

was an extension of this unworldliness, “his food was the divine vision, and his

drink the heavenly splendour”.19 This ability to be nourished solely by the

spiritual gave Simeon an almost Godly image in the eyes of the pilgrims who

flocked to see him. Susan Ashbrook Harvey explains that to wider society, the

Saint’s symbolic feasting did not represent a metaphor for holiness, but a

reality.20 His contemporaries found hope of redemption in his purity and an

embodiment of the desert in his emaciated body. Thus, whilst the fasting of the

Desert Fathers was aimed at the self, in reality it invited wider society to

experience the holiness to be found in the desert.

When studying the asceticism of the early Christian monks, historians often focus

on the self-contained holiness of fasting. The Sayings emphasise the importance

of modesty and discreetness in asceticism, and as a result the visibility and

influence of the ascetic on society can seem surprising.21 However, Peter Brown

suggests that it is this very individualism that connects the holy man to the

community as a patron.22 Food’s role in this connection is two-fold: it created a

17 R.J. Goodrich, Contextualising Cassian: Aristocrats, Asceticism and Reformation in 5th Century Gaul, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 4218 Doran & Harvey, The Lives, 1019 R. Doran, S.A. Harvey, The Lives of Simeon Stylites, (Cistercian Publications, 2006), 9120 Doran & Harvey, The Lives, 11 21 Sayings of the Desert Fathers in N. Russell (trans.), The Lives of the Desert Fathers, (Oxford: Moybray & Co, 1980), 77 22 P. Brown, ‘The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity’, The Journal of Roman Studies, 61 (1971), 10

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holy man who was both the miracle performer and the miracle himself. For those

carrying out a pilgrimage to see the self-tortured and emaciated figure of Simeon

Stylites, the very survival of this ascetic would have seemed miraculous. Through

abstention from food – the communal bind for every community – these men

also became an unbiased patron.23 In the Holy Man’s separation from the rest of

society, Brown sees “the acute ambivalence of a Christian God” which was

presented in “a manageable and approachable form”.24 Here Brown has analysed

the Holy Man’s position in wider society, from the viewpoint of a community

perplexed yet encouraged by this God-like figure. However, Brown’s study does

not explore the self-identification of the Holy Man. Theology that highlights the

contrite nature of fasting supports the idea that to the monk, fasting was a

personal – and human – control of an unremarkable body. It was the Holy Man’s

understanding, response and then suppression of his core human needs that

shows an understanding of his utter normalness, rather than godliness.

Regardless of the warnings of gluttony, sexual desire and pleasure that the

Desert Fathers, the actual act of consumption brought a sense of fertility to the

bodily and worldly life of the man and desert. Despite historians’ focus on the

exoticism of asceticism, Caroline Walker-Bynum emphasises the fact that the

primary purpose of food was to bring together communities to offer gratitude

and obedience to God.25 For early religious communities these meals would

never have been elaborate feasts, although they were likely rich in symbolic

meaning. The historian Grimm interprets the breaking of the bread as having

both a symbolic and functional purpose: on the one hand, it is a devotion to the

simple common meal and on the other, it represents the original ritual of the

Christian daily service.26 The idea that the Desert Fathers both gave thanks for

the sustenance of food and appreciation for the Eucharistic meal do not seem as

polarised as Grimm suggests. Countless stories in the Sayings of the Desert

Fathers include the simple breaking of bread between friends or even enemies. 23 Brown, ‘The Rise and Function of the Holy Man’, 1424 Brown, ‘The Rise and Function of the Holy Man’, 9725 C. Walker-Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women, (LA: University of California Press, 1987), 43 26 Grimm, The Evolution of Sin, 78

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In particular, the ‘love-feast’ or ‘agape feast’ is mentioned.27 This “ordinary and

innocent meal”28 would have taken place after the Mass and was primarily aimed

at being a communal sign of thanksgiving. The fact that this feast was ‘harmless’

means that it likely consisted of simply bread and wine29, therefore the

importance of the event must have come from its symbolism. The meal’s

separateness from Communion gives it space to become symbolic of the Lord’s

Supper – a meal that Dennis Smith interprets as a feast of community and

discipleship, rather than of food.30 This interpretation supports the idea that for

the Desert Fathers food was offered as much spiritual nourishment as it did

physical. The communal meal was as much a reinstatement of discipleship as

fasting was a symbol of devotion to God – so consumption as well as abstention

could be a symbol of holiness.

Prescriptive texts from the desert repeatedly warn against extremes of

consumption, meaning meals could never have been more than symbolic in their

plenty. Jerome outlines the reasons behind enjoying only humble ‘feasts’ and at

the other end of the spectrum, refraining from extreme fasts. He criticises a

despicable type of monk whose only concern is making everybody aware of the

hardships of the fast, and then “when a feast day comes, they eat so much that

they make themselves ill.”31 Jerome’s condemnation is not towards the opposite

poles of feast and fast – after all, both are needed for balance – but with the

uncontrolled vigour with which each one is carried out. Cassian describes a daily

routine adapted by the majority of religious communities by the 4th century that

reflects this desire for moderation. This is supported in the Sayings, when Abba

Joseph asks Abba Poeman about the best way to fast, to which the Abba Poeman

responded that it is better to “eat everyday, but only a little, so as not to be

27 Isiah 4, in The Book of the Elders: Sayings of the Desert Fathers The Systematic Collection, (Minnesota: Liturgical Press)28 Letters from Ignatius of Antioch to Smyrna 10:96 in B. Witherington, Making a Meal of it, Rethinking the Theology of the Lord’s Supper, (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2008), 10129 B. Witherington, Making a Meal of it: Rethinking the Theology of the Lord's Supper, (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2008),10030 D.E. Smith, From Symposium to Eucharist: The Banquet in the Early Christian World, (Fortress Press, 2003), 250 31 Jerome Ep. 22.34 in M. Dietz, Wondering Monks, Virgins, and Pilgrims: Ascetic Travel in the Mediterranean Ad 300-800, (Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2005), 90

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satisfied”.32 The response of the Abba acknowledges those ascetics who push

their bodies to the extreme, but recommends a moderated asceticism that would

come to gradually characterise Eastern monasticism. However, in his answer

there is still the vital idea that to ‘be satisfied’ would be to stop reaching for the

heavenly end - eternal satisfaction.

The Desert Fathers’ descriptions of food often contradict each other: a table

laden with food is either a metaphor for a sabotage of demonic temptations or a

symbol of heaven. Saint Macarius describes a host of demons that attack his

spiritual self in the form of temptations. The sins of ‘fornification’, ‘gluttony’, and

‘fearfulness’ tempt him like a “table laden with every type of food to eat.”33 When

Augustine ate it was to repair his physical body in anticipation of an exchange of

“this corruptible nature of ours with incorruptible life”.34 Thus, the appearance of

a feast in a dream symbolised either a temptation from the devil, or an

anticipation of the fruits of heaven. When Patermuthius and Macarius each

imagined their paradise, they dreamed of ‘rich and many coloured fruit’;35 it was

a feast that overflowed with the signs of fertility unavailable in the desert.

Therefore, the difference between the worldly table of food and the heavenly one

was a matter of human fallibility against spiritual perfection. The feast of heaven

is paradise not because it is needed to restore the worldly body, or because it is

irresistible to the weak human, but because it is endless, pure and uncorrupted –

in essence, the feast symbolises heaven itself. Again, food was functional in its

role as a symbol for holiness; by attaching spiritual divinity to the worldly

pleasure of eating, the Desert Fathers created a bridge between this world and

the next.

32 Russell, The Lives of the Desert Fathers, 23

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34 V. Grimm, The Evolution of Sin, 8135 Lives of the Desert Fathers, 25

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Merovingian Gaul

Our knowledge of monasticism in Merovingian Gaul comes largely from

surviving monastic texts, rules, charters and the vitae of Saints. When studied

together, one can see the religious life in the context of wider society;

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monasticism is no longer a departure from the world, but a component in the

increasingly manufactured, shaped and exploited network of politics in

Merovingian Gaul. The fifth and sixth centuries saw the development of a

number of monastic rules in the West, the primary founders being Jonas of

Bobbio, Cassian and St. Columbanus.36 The result of these different sources of

influence was a monasticism shaped by attempts to establish a perfect rule,

legitimacy and authority. For the first time, monasteries became involved with

politics.37 Viewed as a mirror of society, it is not surprising that attitudes towards

food reflect this strengthening network between religion and politics. The fact

that Merovingian kings now founded or endowed monasteries to guarantee

intercessory prayers38 created a bridge between the secular and holy, and as

power relations developed between monasteries and the aristocracy, hospitality

became an increasingly significant currency.

Within Merovingian hagiography, one finds the histories of saints whom,

although exceptional, act as inflated symbols for the norms, values and

expectations of contemporary society. Radegund is a remarkable example of how

traditional asceticism combined with the developing social function of food. A

reluctant 6th century queen, Radegund fled her husband, Clotaire I, to devote her

life to the Church. In his hagiography of Radegund, Fortunatus describes how,

through selflessly serving her community, she replicated the figure of Martha,

“She did not cease from feeding the weak and blind food with a spoon. Two

women were present with her for this purpose, but Radegund alone ministered

at the table”.39 Lynda Coon argues that through emphasising Radegund’s

willingness to serve the impoverished, Fortunatus places her holiness in a

framework of domesticity.40 Both Coon and Effros argue that by combining an

almost matriarchal devotion to the community, with the personal control of her

36 Dietz, Wondering Monks, 7037 Dietz, Wondering Monks, 7038 Dunn, The Emergence of Monasticism, 9839 The Life of the Holy Radegund by Venetius Fortunatus, in J. Mcnamara (ed. & trans.), Sainted Women of the Dark Ages, (North Carolina: Duke University Press, 1992), 7740 L. Coon, Sacred Fictions: Holy Women and Hagiography in Late Antiquity, (Pennsylvania: University of Pennsylvania, 1997), 110

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asceticism, Radegund was able to extend her own power boundaries as a

woman.41 However, if one focuses less on the feminine stereotypes emphasised

so strongly in her vitae, and more on the social effect of her actions, one finds

that part of Radegund’s holiness came through food itself. Applying Walker-

Bynum’s theory that power can be sourced from food preparation and

distribution,42 and applying it to the strengthening connection between fasting

and almsgiving in Merovingian Gaul, it is clear that there was a link between the

self-deprivation of the ascetic and their feeding of the wider community.

The gradual movement of monasticism, from the largely eremitic form of the

East to the coenobitic monasteries of the West, directly influenced attitudes

towards fasting. Whilst abstention from food could still be an introverted

activity, on the most part it was shaped to fit the needs of the community, in both

its structure and connection to holiness. In his Institutes, Cassian explains why it

was necessary that the asceticism of the East be tempered for the religious

communities of Gaul, “because of the harshness of the climate, or because of

differing customs and the resulting obstacles, I have judged to be impossible in

this part of the world, or at least burdensome and laborious”.43 It was not merely

the geographical restraints of shifting the ‘desert’ to Gaul that shaped this

moderated attitudes towards fasting, but a developing theology that promoted a

supportive relationship between an ascetic and his devotees, focused on a more

outward holiness.44 Isabel Moreira argues that despite these developments, the

eremitic lives of the Eastern ascetics still influenced an “ascetic invasion of the

city by the desert” in Merovingian Gaul.45 However, Effros is valid in her criticism

that historians are too quick to assume a direct transition of Eastern asceticism

to Western monasticism.46 Similarly, Gabbon and Traub argue that historians

neglect the influence of figures such as Basil of Caesarea in the development of

monasticism, in favour for the colourful influence of Eastern ascetics. 47 When

41 Effros, Creating Community through Food and Drink, 5342 C.W. Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 190 43 p.185 Inst., Preface,944 P. Rousseau, Ascetics, Authority and the Church, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), 18745 I. Moreira, Dreams, Visions and Spiritual Athority, (NY: Cornell University Press, 2000), 50 46 Effros, Creating Community, 4247 Gannon and Traub, The Desert and the City, 34

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studying Merovingian Gaul, it is especially important that the ‘exoticism’ of the

East does not distract from the core foundations of religious life - Gaul saw the

development of a community based monasticism distinct from the desert, and

this fact must not be underplayed. This coenobitic influence is fundamental

when applied to attitudes towards fasting, which drew holiness more from one’s

position in the community, rather than from oneself.

In Merovingian Gaul, fasting and community became intertwined. Pain was no

longer limited to the individual, but shared, and it was this sharing that made it

real and holy. One sign of this more outwardly focused asceticism is the

introduction of public fasts. Hen, in arguing for the existence of a solid religious

culture in Merovingian Gaul, highlights the importance of ‘temporal feasts’, such

as Advent, Christmas and Lent, in solidifying a communal sense of religiosity

through food rituals.48 During the Rogationes, a period in Ascension Week,

religious communities would be obliged to take part in a fast as well as

processions, psalms and almsgiving,49 “In the middle of Lent he (Gall) led a

procession, singing psalms, on foot to the church of St Julian the Martyr”50 Here,

fasting serves as the foundations of a communal sense of penance. In a sense,

public fasts were less about ensuring the widespread mortification of private sin,

and more about bringing together a community before God to seek penance for

universal sin. The later emergence of penitential literature that prescribed a

more severe regular fast aimed primarily at monastic communities continues to

emphasise the importance of community in abstention.51 Inspired by the

asceticism of the Desert Fathers, these fasts were seen as a form of individual

penance, and enforced isolation from the community was a significant part of

this process. Although these fasts encouraged a period of isolation, self-direction

and reflection similar to that of the Desert Fathers, the fact that the hardship was

48 Y. Hen, Culture and Religion in Merovingian Gaul: AD 481-751, (Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers, 1995), 6449 Hen, Culture and Religion in Merovingian Gaul, 6450 Gregory of Tours VP 6:6, in E. James (trans.), Gregory of Tours – Life of the Fathers, (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1985), 57-5851 Effros, Creating Community, 13

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not necessarily derived from food deprivation, but isolation from the community,

suggests that food and community had become inextricably combined.

Whereas fasts were a means of seeking penance, feasts were embraced as an

outward sign of gratitude. In particular, the introduction of public fasts

paralleled the introduction of public feast days. The rise of the saints and their

cults in Merovingian Gaul led to the jubilant celebration of their feast days.52

Gregory of Tours describes the popularity of these celebrations, which involved

dancing, eating and drinking, leading to a festival that “ended with great

happiness”.53 Even the humble daily meal of a monk was reason to be grateful to

God, as shown by Saint Boniface’s continual prayers of gratitude, "To quote the

words of the apostle: whether he ate or drunk or whatsoever else he did, he

always praised and thanked God both in heart and word."54 Thanking the Lord

for sustenance is an almost unquestioned tradition of Christianity, however, the

public expression of religiosity represented by feasts is a sign of a distinct

emotional social development. Barbara Rosenwein argues for the emergence of

an ‘emotional community’ in Merovingian Gaul which involved the legitimisation

and celebration of previously shunned emotions. 55 Applied to the concept of

feasting, one can find an acceptance of food as pleasure within the jubilant event.

Although holy feasts were still recognised as hotspots for gluttony and sin,56 their

institution into the Church calendar signals the developing position and potential

of food in Merovingian society.

The fact that food was recognised and appreciated for its nourishment as well as

its pleasure does not mean that communal meals could extend to gluttony. One

entertaining letter from a collection in the corpus of Avitus of Vienne contrasts

his monastic piety with the gluttony of a messenger’s “gobbling” of the gift of fish

52 Hen, Culture and Religion in Merovingian Gaul, 8653 Gregory of Tours, in R. Van Dam (trans), Gregory of Tours – Glory of the Martyrs GM 89, (Liverpool: University of Liverpool,1988),11354 Life of Saint Boniface in R. Hoare, Saints and Saints' Lives from Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, (Continuum International Publishing Group, 1995), 11555 B. H. Rosenwein, Emotional Communities in the Early Middle Ages, (New York: Cornell University Press, 2006), 12856 Hen, Culture and Religion in Merovingian Gaul, 87

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and chilled wine sent to Avitus by Maximus.57 This letter illustrates the multi-

faceted position of food in Merovingian religious life. Firstly, it is clear that by

this period food had become a legitimate exchange in gift giving, and one which

although in this case could not be enjoyed by its fasting recipient, was worthy of

a kind letter of thanks. In terms of food’s position as part of the religious life,

Avitus’ disgust at the messenger’s greed shows that gluttony was still considered

sinful, however, Avitus’ laments of torture at being prohibited from the

“abundance of the royal table” due to the “frugality of the ecclesiastical table”

supports Rosenwein’s argument for the embracement of human emotions – in

this case, desire - even if they are eventually suppressed. Similarly, Effros

observes that within the religious communities the careful moderation of food

became as much a sign of masculinity as asceticism was a sign of unworldliness

in the East.58 Of course, the avoidance of overconsumption required an

understanding of the pleasures of eating, and it was this acceptance that shaped

attitudes towards food and holiness in Merovingian Gaul. Rather than physically

starving the body to prevent the possibility of pleasure, it was the recognition

and then control of this internal pleasure that was the key to holiness.

The rise of the religious community in Merovingian Gaul meant that food had to

fit into a discourse that was both community based and of course, holy. As such,

miracles often became linked to a communal holiness. Albrecht Diem sees a

connection between Columbanus’ belief in the virtues of the coenobitic religious

life and his miracles, which were aided, witnessed or dedicated to other monks.

In particular, similar to Jesus’ own feeding of the five thousand, Columbanus

multiplied some leftover bread into an amount large enough to feed an large

gathering of monks.59 Diem argues that the on moving from East to West, the

patronage of the eremitic Holy Man attached itself to the coenobitic religious

communities.60 Viewing the position of food in Merovingian society with

57 Letter 86 of a group of three festal letters in the corpus of Avitus of Vienne, in R. W. Mathisen and D. Shanzer (edd.), Society and Culture in Late Antique Gaul, (London: Varioum, 2001), pp. 225-228

58 Effros, Creating Community, 2 59 Jonas of Bobbio, Vita Columbani 2.25, ed. Bruno Krusch (Hannover, 1905), pp. 292-93 60 Diem

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reference to Diem’s model of a community that gained patronage from a new

sense of communal holiness brings a new sense of purpose to fasts and feasts. As

proposed by Effros, a religious community’s control over rituals of eating

strengthened its position as patron to wider society, and in turn became a

method of furthering the agendas of otherwise powerless clerics.61

A strengthening connection between the monasteries and power politics seems

to suggest that food’s position in these exchanges was becoming more strategical

and less holy. However, although the social meaning of consumption is exploited

so is its theological symbolism, to an end that furthers the position of religion in

society. This increasing functionality of food is illustrated in Jonas’ retelling of a

discourse involving Columbanus, Thuederic of Burgundy and his wife, Brunhild.

Jonas describes how Columbanus refused to bless the bastard children of

Theodoric’s polygamous marriages. As a way of frightening him, the monk

refused a meal offered by the king and proceeded to fast against him.62 This

conflict between Columbanus, Theuderic and Brunhild has attracted the

attention of many historians. Barbara Rosenwein suggests that Columbanus’

power in the situation came from his refusal of a gift from not only a king, but a

prestigious patron;63 by refusing this offer of amnesty he reemphasised the

boundaries between the religious world and the secular. Similarly, Mayke de

Jong emphasises the potency of boundaries as weapons in Merovingian Gaul. 64

Columbanus’ refusal to be a guest shows that whilst the rite of hospitality could

become involved with the religious, it was still predominately a feature of secular

politics, and a way of reinstating the divide between the king and the monk.

Viewing the act of consumption through a theological lens emphasises the fact

that Columbanus’ rejection of physical nourishment places him on a divine

platform – his fast is a symbol of a personal connection with the holy that can be

61 Effros, Creating Community, 362 Vita San Columbani, 63 B.H. Rosenwein, Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe, (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1999), 7164 M. De Jong, Topographies of Power in the Early Middle Ages, (Leiden: Brill Press, 1991), 291-328

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untouched by the authority of a king. Thus, almost as an extension of the

carefully constructed familial relations65, social hierarchies and growing

networks of Merovingian Gaul, food helped to manufacture a realm of holiness

for religious communities and individuals.

Comparison

The lives of the Desert Fathers are presented to us in such bold – almost surreal

– tones that one would be forgiven to see their ascetic lives as the pinnacle of

Christian perfection, to which the monks of Merovingian Gaul would surely

aspire. However, such assumptions are the downfall of the historian who

searches persistently for imitations of the Desert Fathers’ lives within the

boundaries of the Frankish monastery’s walls. To search for this ‘exoticism’ is to

65 Rosenwein, Emotional Communities, 129

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ignore the fact that, as it travelled from East to West (and even before that

journey occurred), the ideals of monasticism changed. Aviad Kleinberg identifies

a growing disapproval from religious communities towards eremitic

characteristics, such as extreme asceticism. The monk’s individualism seemed to

go against what was natural and the ascetic’s life on the boundaries of society a

too obvious attempt to ensure personal salvation with disregard for others.66

Pachomius’ formation of a coenobitic community in Tabennisi can be seen as a

way of reducing the isolation and extremity of asceticism in Egypt.67 The monks

of this Rule still continued to fast, but not as individuals and never to the point of

physical mortification. Their disgust at the extreme fasting of a renowned ascetic,

Macarius of Kellia, during an unannounced visit to their monastery resulted in

them questioning Pachomius over the arrival of such a figure, “from whence did

you bring this fleshless man for our condemnation? Either expel him or know

that we are leaving”68 Although Pachomius appreciated the significance of such a

devoted example of holiness as Macarius, his order maintained the virtues of

community and moderation. Thus, food’s position in religious communities

would increasingly become framed by the idea that monastery, not the

individual, was holy.

In John Cassian’s prescriptions for the best way to transfer the ideals of Egyptian

monasticism to the West he proposes the construction of a ‘symbolic desert’.

Cassian, as well as the founders of other significant rules, such as Saint Basil and

Benedict of Nursia, hoped that through the institutionalisation of monasticism

the authority of the Desert Fathers would be maintained. However, whilst the

Desert Fathers influenced the founding principles of the monasteries through

such Rules as the Rule of Macarius, 69 the religious community’s evolving position

in political and ecclesiastical networks meant that the traditionally inhospitable

desert could only be a touchstone rather than an active part of the monastic life.

Instead, monasticism had to combine the energy of the ascetic with the holiness 66 A.M. Kleinberg, Flesh Made Word: Saints’ Stories and the Western Imagination, (Harvard University Press, 2008), 9867 Kleinberg, Flesh Made Word, 14568 Palladius of Hellendopolis, Lausiac History 18.12-15, in R.T. Meyer (trans.) The Lausiac History (New York: Newman Press, 1964), pp. 61-6369 Dunn, The Emergence of Monasticism, 85

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of the community, a feat aimed at by Columbanus on his arrival in Gaul in 590.

Columbanus was shocked by the fact that, ‘Love of mortification and the

remedies of penance scarcely existed in this kingdom’. 70 He refers to a Gaul that

had been witness to the formation of autonomous religious communities, such as

the Holy Cross at Poiters, but not to a network of religious institutions of the kind

Columbanus would build. To these religious communities the regular fast was

vital, however, their dedication to abstention did not replicate a ‘symbolic

desert’; the territory of the Desert Fathers provided inspiration, but not a

prescription for the ideal holy life. Instead, the growth of community inhabited

the lonely plains and an appreciation of consumption rather than deprivation

made the desert fertile.

The written records of the lives of saints are a useful source to the historian

seeking to understand a society’s ideal of holiness. In terms of revealing attitudes

towards food, they are invaluable. By assessing food’s place in the stories of both

Simeon of Stylites and Radegund, one can find an, albeit inflated, temporal

representation of the connection between the religious ideal and consumption.

Both of these figures displayed an extreme asceticism which brought them

respect, status and power, although for markedly different reasons. For Simeon,

control over consumption becomes an explicit self-punishment and a route to

holiness, whereas Radegund’s power lies in her servitude to others, whilst

inwardly suffering the pains of asceticism. From studying Antonios’ account of

the life of Simeon, Susan Ashbrook Harvey concludes that his actions are

portrayed as a self-focused attempt at repentance, characterised by “contrition

and ugliness”. 71 However, this is to ignore the positive and functional role of his

asceticism on wider society. “The crowd glorified God because of Simeon” and as

Kleinberg highlights, his inward focused abstention turned him into a figure of

power, transcended above the earth but close enough to help.72 Thus, Simeon is

serves the same function as the Holy Man of Peter Brown’s Syria: rather than

70 Jonas, Vita Columbani i.11, 292-9371 S.A. Harvey, ‘The Sense of a Stylite: Perspectives on Simeon the Elder’, Vigiliae Christianae, 42 (1988), pp. 386-38772 Kleinberg, Flesh Made Word, 180

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being a mere symbol of penance, his asceticism converts him into a beacon of

holiness.

One can find the basis of the ascetic tradition in Radegund’s asceticism and

enforced solitude. However, this traditional abstention is not the primary focus

of her holiness, instead it is through combining this with the servitude of a ‘Nova

Martha’73 - feeding and serving the poor, destitute and holy – that brings her

power. Whilst Simeon symbolises the mysticism of an almost inhuman figure,

Radegund represents the power of the human in Merovingian Gaul, an idea that

is suggested by Arvind Sharma, who highlights the fact that Christ is rarely

mentioned in Baudinivia’s account of Radegund. Sharma interprets this as a sign

that asceticism should not be self-limiting, nor should it hinder the aspirations of

a holy person.74 Instead, a Saint must find another resource for holiness. In the

case of Radegund it is servitude. By cooking for, serving and feeding the

community she avoids becoming the physically and culturally detached

character of Simeon, but an ascetic who uses the framework of domesticity,

normality and charity to become an earthly and thus unworldly servant.

Peter Brown’s framework for the role of the Holy Man in Syrian society is based

on the idea that his power derives from being a ‘stranger’. The role that food

plays in this status is vital as through rejecting the most fundamental of human

needs and community ties, he becomes inhuman.75 Thus, the Holy Man gains

power almost inadvertently, through focusing on the inner man he finds himself

in a position to aid the outer. Diem applies Brown’s framework to Merovingian

Gaul and finds that the functions of the Holy Man still exist, but are adopted and

manipulated by the monasteries.76 With this inheritance of power, the

miraculous changes from a personal focus to a communal one. Unlike Simeon,

miracles involving food do not focus on fasting but feeding; shown by the fact

73 Coon, Sacred Fictions, 120 74 M.A. Mayeski, ‘Reclaiming an Ancient Story’, in A. Sharma (ed.), Women Saints in World Religions, 86

75 Brown, ‘The Rise and Function of the Holy Man in Late Antiquity’, 76 A. Diem, ‘Monks, Kings, and the Transformation of Sanctity: Jonas of Bobbio and the End of the Holy Man’, Speculum 82 (2007), 558

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that Columbanus’ entire religious community is miraculously fed thanks to a

monastic body of prayer. Like the Holy Man’s mediation in secular affairs, the

community’s power comes from providing a bridge between the divine and

mundane. The power that resonates from a monastery that can feed the faithful

with empty larders77 derives from the same source as the power in their

intercessory prayers78 – the ability to connect the miraculous with the banal.

The sharing of a meal is a multifaceted joy; it can be a sign of amnesty, a mediator

in politics, a source of nourishment, and in Merovingian Gaul, a source of

holiness for religious communities. Whilst in the Lives of the Desert Fathers

simple meals are described and appreciated, there is always a sense that to eat is

to accept the banality of being human, whilst to fast is to transcend this nature.

The Desert Father Antony, could not bear the idea of communal eating, “So often,

when about to eat with any other hermits, recollecting the spiritual food, he

begged to be excused, and departed far off from them, deeming it a matter for

shame if he should be seen eating by others.”79 Antony makes it clear that whilst

monks ate together, the event could never be as divine as the ‘spiritual food’ of

God. However, in Merovingian Gaul an emerging secular rite of hospitality

shaped a new power source, and with it a source of holiness that could be

exploited by the monasteries.80 Effros argues that Frankish monasteries were

designed to be places of generosity rather than austerity, meaning humble

almsgiving as well as the preparation of feasts became legitimate functions of the

monastery.81

Conclusion

If the Desert Fathers and religious communities of Merovingian Gaul leave us

with one thought, it is that food is never simply physical nourishment. When it is

shunned, it is spiritual consumption that takes its place and when it is used to

77 Effros, Creating Community, 1278 Diem, ‘Monks, Kings, and the Transformation of Sanctity’, 55879 Athanasius of Alexandria, Vita S. Antony, (http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/vita-antony.asp 45), Accessed 15th March 201380 Effros, Creating Community, 6 81 Effros, Creating Community, 12

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give thanks, it is because it represents the plenty of God. As such, attitudes

towards food provide a rich source for understanding the shift of monasticism

from the Desert to the West. What this paper has shown is that the ‘symbolic

desert’ created in Merovingian Gaul was not simply a recreation of the ascetic

ideals of Eastern monasticism. It is true that the asceticism of the Desert Fathers

gave authority to the diverse collection of Rules in the West. However, the

character of these religious communities did not allow for or encourage such

self-absorbed and individualistic asceticism of the early Eastern eremitic monks.

Instead, food became a reflection of a theology that focused more on judgement

by the community than by God. As such, the fast changed from being a sign of

private penance to a public mortification of the world’s sins. Food also reflected

the emerging links between religious communities and the aristocracy, becoming

currency in networks of hospitality as well as a bridge between the secular and

the holy.

Peter Brown’s study of the functions of the Holy Man in Late Antique Syria has

proved to be fundamental in this paper. With an understanding of what made an

individual divine in late antiquity, one can begin to interpret food’s role in this

framework. Brown showed that it was the Holy Man’s unwillingness to give way

to his humanity that made him a holy mediator and his rejection of food is

perhaps the most fundamental aspect of this. If holiness can be located as the

halfway point between heaven and earth, the monastery of Merovingian Gaul can

be seen as a replacement for the Holy Man and its connection with food shows

how this holiness was sustained. Effros’ exploration of almsgiving and Diem’s

study on food miracles all show how the basis of the Holy Man’s sanctity – his

miraculous abilities, separateness and thus patronage – applied to the religious

community as a unit. It is this shift of holiness, from the individual to the

monastery, which is repeated time and time again in sources from Gaul. The

move of monasticism from East to West can perhaps be seen as one of the first

steps for a religious world that would come to fall in love with food; feast days,

public fasts, almsgiving and of course the Mass, show an acceptance of the power

of food to give functionality to ideologies, bind communities, nourish the body

and feed the soul. The ‘symbolic desert’ might have survived in Merovingian Gaul

22


in the form of the fast, but consumption and holiness came to mean far more

than mere abstention – food became the antithesis of the desert: it made

communities fertile.

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Documents

Final Feasting, Fasting and Holiness