2 November 2023

Pelagianism and Prayer for the Departed

Some time ago we took buses to Shipton-under-Wychwood (don't we have entrancing place-names in England?) and did a walk in the valley of the Evenlode (and beautiful river names?). In Shipton church is a palimpsest brass.

The 'front' bears an inscription about a woman who died in 1548. Interestingly, it bears no hint of expectation that it might be appropriate to pray for the repose of her soul. This calls for explanation: out in the Oxfordshire backwoods in 1549 the people rose in rebellion against the Prayer Book. So you don't expect to find there evidence of a Protestantism which by then had made little progress beyond some very small areas in the East of England. But the inscription cheerfully assured us that her virtues and her virtuous deeds had undoubtedly brought her straight to heaven.

You don't need to remind me that this assumption is not quite what poor dear Fraterculus Luther thought he meant when he was plugging Justification By Faith Alone. But it is in line with the tens of thousands of funerary inscriptions dating from the ensuing Protestant centuries, postulating certain and immediate sainthood for every deceased person on account of their unbelievably virtuous lives (there is that old story about a little girl who read the gravestones in a churchyard and asked "Mummy, where are all the bad people buried?"). 

I wonder if anyone has ever written an interpretative account of how the academic doctrinaire Protestantism of Luther and Calvin (Faith, not Works) led with such immediate and apparently automatic ease to its precise and polar opposite (Works), a practical popular Pelagianism.

I do have a theory about this. It is that it was precisely the much-derided 'chantry' system, with its financial link between clergy remuneration and masses for the welfare of the souls of the Faithful Departed, which de facto reminded common unacademic medievals that we are all sinners who depend upon God's gracious mercy for our salvation. De facto, take that away and common unacademic folk, needing to fill a conceptual vacuum, will replace it in their own minds with the assumption that since the recently departed Mary Smith doesn't need Masses said for her soul - the government has just declared this and has sequestrated all the assets of all the chantries - ergo if we love Ms Smith we need to be convinced that her good deeds outweigh any sins. 

It becomes psychologically important to shy away in our minds from the disturbing consequence that, if this is not so, then she is, er, in Hell. 

Moreover, if there is no Purgatory, then she is already in Heaven ... or Hell. So ... this is my tentative hypothetical proposal ... the paradoxical emphasis in popular Protestantism upon salvation by works (which is ultimately to feed into a facile Universalism which assumes that everybody except probably Adolf Hitler and Myra Hindley will end up Saved), emerged in 1548 from a mass crisis of popular rethinking about soteriology and the Departed.

On the back of the brass, in the reused original dating from 1492, we have a potent reminder of the complex and deep-rooted system which was destroyed by the suppression of the chantries. It is an account of bequests to the Guild of our Lady in Aylesbury for Masses and Dirges. Presumably it came on to the market in the despoliations which followed the suppression of the chantries (statute of December 1547). 

It reminded me of the manuscript* description of endowments made by Sir John Percival, Lord Mayor of London in the reign of the first Tudor, which hung by his tomb in the London City church of S Mary Woolnoth; presumably such public declarations were at least partly intended to ensure the compliance of future generations in fulfilling the dispositions.

*Rediscovered at the back of a cupboard in S Mary Woolnoth; the interested can find an account in a piece I published in 2007 in the Transactions of the Devonshire Association (they might also reread Duffy Stripping pp 515ff.). Sir John's document survived because, amid all the provisions for masses for his soul, which will have become obsolete in 1548, there were a few other provisions for benefactions which did not thus become obsolete. A later hand has marked these surviving provisions with an arrow in the margin.


Richard Ashton said...

Henry VIII ruined England. He used the full powers of the state to coerce disbelief in Catholic Truth. I buy your theory of the abhorred spiritual vacuum and await your invoice.

coradcorloquitur said...

The same universal salvation heresy is now commonplace in the Novus Ordo funeral masses and, worse, in the sentimentalized minds of countless "Catholics." It is the result of the "perhaps Hell is empty" theory of Hans Urs von Balthasar, also trumpeted by the episcopal media "star" Bishop Robert Baron (he, who passes for a conservative in the conciliar church---I guess that compared to Francis even Lenin would qualify as a "conservative").

On a separate note, dear Father Hunwicke, I am praying for a speedy and complete recovery for you. Take note: you are not allowed to leave us "orphans" in this conciliar desert, without your vast learning, wise insights, love of Holy Mother Church, and kindness. We are sufficiently orphaned as it is, lacking a loving Father in Rome and in many dioceses. May Our Lady of Walsingham be always by your side.

John Patrick said...

This piece got me thinking. In 1548 there was a rich Catholic culture that was there for the despoiling. In our current age, if the ongoing Cultural Revolution ever gets to the point of wanting to despoil the current Church, will there be anything left to despoil that hasn't been already by the "Spirit of Vatican II" and its ardent followers?

El Codo said...

The last Catholic priest of Chipping Norton, near Shipton, a Fr Joyce, was hung by his own chains from his own steeple, down at the bottom of the hill. He had the audacity to join in the rebellion against the new religion. Coincidentally, the retiring Catholic priest of that wonderful Oxfordshire town is a Fr Joyce but happily he is alive and breathing in the Oxwolds air.