Still working through
this history of the Crusades, which I find to be fascinating. In general it is
an incredible idea, and whatever one thinks today about the Crusaders or the
ideology that launched such an endeavor, it is hard not to be a bit amazed and
what was accomplished by a disparate group of Europeans.
A group of 20,000 or
so, knights, princes, and peasants marched some 2,000 miles, laying siege to
various Muslim outposts along the way, and eventually broke through the
formidable gates of Jerusalem and laid claim to the city, holding it despite
erratic support from the West for nearly 200 years. For some perspective, 200
years ago in American history James Madison was president and we were still
fighting the British over this or that. In other words, it is a long time. Were
their motives always pure? Nope. Were some greedy for gain? Yep. Was their
senseless slaughter? Definitely. Do I wish for something like this to happen
again? Hell no. But I think it is a fault of the imagination and a failure to
acknowledge subjectivity in human experience to demonize a whole contingent of
past humanity for failing to live up to present--and relatively new--ideals.
Blaming the Crusaders for violence is like blaming them for being opposed to
gay marriage. The idea is so modern, it is absurdly anachronistic to judge
something that happened 1,000 years ago as if they operated by the same moral
and social codes.
When Tolkien was
having conversations with the impenitent C.S. Lewis about Christianity he told
him that the Christian story would have immense appeal to the story-loving
Lewis if it didn't carry the emotional/historical/doctrinal baggage that
Christianity presents to someone reared in our culture. In other words, the
story of God made man, his birth heralded by angels and swains alike, his
monastic life, his temptation in the desert, his betrayal, crucifixion and
resurrection would all seem wonderful to Lewis if they could be casually
dismissed as mythology, but became considerably more complex when he was asked
to not only appreciate the artistry and beauty of the story, but also to
believe that it was true and to attach his faith to the G0d-man as his
savior.
While I don't want to
conflate these two very different issues, I feel like something similar is at
work in how we approach the Crusades. If they were simply a story we read in an
adventure novel, the story of a great journey with heroes and villains and
iconography and visionaries and deception and luck and bravery we would love to
read of it. But there is something so grounded about the Crusades. We are not
merely confronted with a great story (I use the term great broadly), but one
that actually happened, one that in many ways is constitutive of the way we
Westerners see ourselves. A similar story set in the Far East would likely not
provoke as visceral of a reaction. The Crusades feel personal, somehow, and we
have been trained from a young age to feel very guilty about them. And I carry
that tendency as much as anyone.
But reading the other
day about the siege at Antioch it was hard to remember the way we have been
trained to feel about the Holy Wars. The Crusader army had laid siege to the
city and broken through the walls. They were unable to capture the citadel,
backed up against a mountain and it remained in Muslim control. Immediately
upon their breakthrough at Antioch the Crusader army was besieged itself by the
Muslim army of al Afdal. The Crusaders found themselves vastly outnumbered and
running low on supplies. Rather than wasting away behind the walls, they
decided to attack. One morning, at the break of day, they did just that. In his
account, Asbridge seems careful to be clear that most of the Crusaders were
motivated by genuine piety, not lust or greed. And there, in the midst of the
battle, priests moved among the troops chanting prayers and giving them
encouragement. The Crusaders, bolstered by faith, routed the Muslim army who
was unprepared for their sudden attack. They returned to Antioch and were free
to press on toward Jerusalem.
There is something
about that image--the priest moving among the tumult of battle, chanting and
praying--that despite the fact I find it theologically ridiculous, is entirely
romantic to me. And if it were simply a story in a book I would love it. But
understanding that the Crusaders weren't simply barbarians and that many were
motivated by genuinely held religious feeling and that they were products of
their culture doesn't mean that what they did was not often objectively wrong.
Subjectively justifiable decisions can still be objectively wrong. I am not
here trying to make the Crusades sound hunky-dory or not that big of a deal. I
do think, though, that they are different than we are commonly led to
believe--more complicated--and that our distance from this time ought to give
us pause before blithely passing judgment.
The culture that
spawned the Crusades and sustained them for 200 years might not bear much
resemblance to our own, but they operated by a different set of values, not
without values. We can rightly condemn the actions of much of the wars as
incompatible with the teachings of Christ, but I am hesitant to condemn the
values underlying the wars: bravery, faith, and the willingness to fight for
what is important.
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