Historia Calimatatusm, pt. 1

The story of the life of Peter Abelard, Historia Calimatatusm, or, The Story of My Misfortunes, tells of a man who lived two seperate lives, one of an academic youth and one of a devout maturity.

Abelard's is a story of personal triumph set amid the jealousy of his peers. Indeed, it seems that a man can hardly be called a success in his particular realm of influence if there is no one that envies what he has accomplished.

"I fled utterly from the court of Mars that I might win learning in the bosom of Minerva," remarked the famed scholastic about the days of his youth, spent entirely in the pursuit of philosophy and dialectics. From a young age, there was only the love of knowledge. I often wonder how one comes to embrace learning, save it is both a curse from a man and a gift from God given at a man's birth. As it is said, "The mind of the prudent acquires knowledge, and the ear of the wise seeks knowledge." (Prov. 18:15).

As it was, Peter was not so much of original thinker whose ideas inflamed his contemporaries, as much as a brilliant dialectictian who could argue circles around his opponents. He never seemed to lose an argument, which in turn bred a pride that led ultimately to his demise in the world of the academies.

I can think of no other loss that would drive a man to anger against his opponent but the loss of his self-dignity by being shown the error of his thinking. Abelard could take a statement that was thought to have been proved by both test of time and test of genius, and then within a matter of an hour would leave his opponent scratching his head as to why he believed what he did in the first place.

I don't envy Abelard's success, since it seems that it only brought him pain and suffering. He had few friends, save his eager students, who seemed only to cleave to him for whatever knowledge they could gleam from his teaching. Also, his unfailing skill to win a debate left him with arrogant belief that he was perhaps the only prophet remaining in a world of Baal worshippers. "Thus I, who by this time had come to regard myself as the only philosopher remaining in the whole world, and had ceased to fear any further disturbance of my peace, began to loosen the rein on my desires."

If one could speak of Abelard's life having a "demise", the myths and the fables all bring one name to mind: Heloise. It was she, his student and niece of a certain priest in Paris, who would eventually bear their illegitimate child.

What I found particularly striking was his own confession of his pride. "So distinguished was my name, and I possessed such advantages of youth and comeliness, that no matter what woman I might favour with my love, I dreaded rejection of none." One can hear echoes of the great judge of Israel, Samson, as he demands "I saw a woman in Timnah... now therefore, get her for me..."

What heights of sown elation would soon plummet into the depths of reaped dispair.

Man of Sorrows

There is no aesethic beauty in Jesus Christ, the Man of Sorrows.

If we were looking for someone who would catch the eye, we would look beyond the Suffering Servant. There was no external beauty that we should behold him (Isa 53:2). We turned our faces away at His appearance, marred more than any other man (Isa 52:14). Had we beheld him truly, had we gazed intently on His figure and face, there would have been nothing left to look at. We tried to make out a man, but there was only a mash of blood and hair and puss attached to a broken head that sat atop a crippled body. He had became mischath; disfigured, destroyed, and ruined. In short, the prophet Isaiah says that the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, was an eyesore.

He was the one from whom we hid our faces (Isa 53:3). Jesus Christ would not make the cover of any modern magazine.

As the post-modern church advances towards what I would call a neo-iconodulism (or a new use of visual images in worship), I think it's time to rethink our stance on an issue that divided the Church now almost 1000 years ago. Should we not remember that with the Lord, that this is only a day?