in soul pursuit

in soul pursuit

Sunday, 13 July 2014

Zen, Thomas Merton and Ludwig Wittgenstein

Dear All

I'm just back from a pleasant (but tiring) few days at Liverpool Hope University in the company of the Mystical Theology Network (the brain-child of Dr Louise Nelstrop and Dr Simon Podmore), the Society for the Study of Continental Philosophy and the Eckhart Society - what a combination! It really was a fascinating few days with some heavy-weight breakfast table conversations with some great scholars from all over Europe and beyond. Below is an extract from my contribution to the feast - reflections on the relationship between Merton and Wittgenstein which seemed to go down well. I shall be giving an extended version of this paper in Durham at the beginning of September so if you like this then do come to Durham for the full thing.

Best wishes

Peter


The 'Inner' Merton


The Inner Experience (IE), published in 2003 from the manuscript of Merton’s 1950s revision of his earlier What is Contemplation (1948), neatly encapsulates Merton’s lifelong attempt to describe the nature of the contemplative life.[1] Throughout it appears to assume the approach to the ‘inner’ as a distinct ‘mental realm’ that Wittgenstein had so forcibly critiqued in his own late writings. Take this passage from the beginning of the text for example:

 

Every deeply spiritual experience, whether religious, moral, or even artistic, tends to have in it something of the presence of the interior self. Only from the inner self does any spiritual experience gain depth, reality, and a certain incommunicability. But the depth of ordinary spiritual experience only gives us a derivative sense of the inner self. It reminds us of the forgotten levels of interiority in our spiritual nature, and of our helplessness to explore them. (IE: 7)

 

Now much of the language here is the traditional language of the Christian contemplative (and often mystical) tradition – that is, ‘interiority’, ‘depth’, ‘the inner self’ and ‘levels of interiority’. As explained above, Wittgenstein was deeply sceptical of such metaphors, not least because he continually asked: ‘Yes, but what do they mean?’ How can we talk of psycho-physical spatial ‘depth’ in the construct of the mental which is essentially non-spatial. Merton is right to point to the ‘certain incommunicability’ that lies in this process for the very concepts of meaning (or in Wittgensteinian terms, ‘the language game’) begin to break down at this point.[2] Now if Merton was to simply essay ‘the inner’ as a realm to be ‘mysteriously approached’ through contemplation without intuiting (I use the word here in its Kantian sense) an unease with such language this paper could finish at this point, we could cheer the wisdom and perception of Wittgenstein and leave the mystical theology of Merton to continue languishing in its dark ‘inner’ prison. But, fortunately for our investigation today, what is fascinating in Merton’s late writing (and the editing of the Inner Experience by William Shannon allows us to read the middle-aged Merton critiquing the work of his younger self) is that Merton himself intuits that the mental language of ‘inner and outer’ simply won’t work as a means of expressing what he has encountered in the contemplative life. These ideas are brought out forcibly in one of his last published works, Zen and the Birds of Appetite (ZB,1968). In this late work Merton (like Wittgenstein) takes as his target the Cartesian self:

         

Modern man, in so far as he is still Cartesian... is a subject for whom his own self-awareness as a thinking, observing, measuring and estimating ‘self’ is absolutely primary. It is for him the one indubitable ‘reality’ and all truth starts here. The more he is able to develop his consciousness as a subject over against objects, the more he can understand things in their relations to him and one another, the more he can manipulate these objects for his own interests, but also, at the same time, the more he tends to isolate himself in his own subjective person, to become a detached observer cut off from everything else in a kind of impenetrable alienated and transparent bubble which contains all reality in the form of purely subjective experience. (ZB:22)

 

Which is as good an account as any of the false subject-object duality that Wittgenstein is also gently teasing apart in his later writings. Modern consciousness, for Merton, becomes ‘an ego-self imprisoned in its own consciousness, isolated and out of touch with other such selves in so far as they are all ‘things’ rather than persons’ (ZB: 22). So our two authors, then, share a common unease of the developing of the subject-object duality of the post-Cartesian Western empirico-scientific mindset. However the two authors do differ somewhat in their solutions to this problem. Wittgenstein prefers to lay the problem before us and give us his unendingly curious, frustrating and infuriating puzzles, crypotgrams and aphorisms in order to coax each of our dualistic Cartesian mindsets out of our individualised fly-bottles.

Within Merton’s writings, on the other hand, we can find at least three attempts to crack this problem by three related, but quite different solutions (which has led, perhaps unfairly but understandably, to charges laid at Merton’s feet over the years of eclecticism and syncretism).

The first is the one that occured to Merton as a young man – his encounter on the trams of New York with the writings of Étienne Gilson, especially his Spirit of Medieval Philosophy. From this work he became interested in what he later characterise as ‘the search for Being’ as being at the root of his conversion from post-modern lost soul to reborn Trappist monk:

 

Underlying the subjective experience of the individual self there is an immediate experience of Being. This is totally different from an experience of self-consciousness. It is completely non-objective. It has in it none of the split and alienation that occurs when the subject becomes aware of itself as a quasi-object... In brief this form of consciousness assumes a totally different kind of self-awareness from that of the Cartesian thinking-self... Here the individual is aware of himself as a self-to-be-dissolved in self-giving, in love, in ‘letting-go’, in ecstasy, in God. (ZB: 24)

 

This, as I say, is an attitude that Merton had explored all his life following his conversion to Catholicism in his 20s and developed through his long study of scholastic theology in Gethsemani monastery. However, as revealed in this late quote from Zen, Merton is still striving for the healing of a split (between self and Other) rather than the dispersal of the illusion of a split that Wittgenstein is pursuing in his late works.

 



[1] Both authors share the distinction of having just as much published after their deaths as in their lifetimes. As with Wittgenstein, editors have sometimes been less than transparent about giving their reasons for certain editorial choices. However this makes studying the posthumous work more challenging and exciting for the serious research student!
[2] In similar vein see Tyler 2013.

Wednesday, 9 July 2014

Christian - Muslim Dialogue Abbot Timothy Wright and Dr Mustafa Baig


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZJc_nNPHCg&list=UUrxeq-Ylu-i8QyWUeQV6yUg

Dear All

As promised please find attached the video of the searching recent dialogue of Abbot Timothy Wright and Dr Mustafa Baig at our recent InSpiRe conference chaired by Dr Lynne Scholefield. I think this will make excellent teaching material for Muslim-Christian seminars, groups and discussions.

Best wishes

Peter

Jewish-Christian Dialogue : The Inspire Conference - Gavin D'Costa, Jonathan Gorsky, Mary Boys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhcwcvgrCBI&list=UUrxeq-Ylu-i8QyWUeQV6yUg



Dear All

As promised please find attached the video of the extraordinary recent dialogue of Dr Jonathan Gorsky and Prof Mary Boys at our recent InSpiRe conference chaired by Prof Gavin D’Costa. I think this will make excellent teaching material for Jewish-Christian seminars, groups and discussions.

I will attach the Christian-Muslim video shortly.

Best wishes

Peter

Wednesday, 2 July 2014

Teresa of Avila - Doctor of the Soul - 500th Anniversary




As I said in my earlier post today its been a wonderful 2 weeks here in Texas. Its the first time I have worked with a group using 'Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Soul' as a text and it was great to see how the very mixed group interacted with it and in many cases were able to take Teresa's writings and make them their own. It all bodes well for the 500th anniversary year and confirms my suspicion that 'her time has come' and she speaks to us now in a way that is new, arresting and ultimately very healing. I attach the last chapter of 'Doctor of the Soul' for you below as it seems an appropriate place to finish. Thanks especially to Fr Ron Rolheiser and Cliff Knighten for inviting me and looking after me so well - and all the team here. We are now talking of taking a group to Avila in 2016 so watch the Oblate School of Theology website for more on this in the coming months...

Best wishes

Peter
 
 
 
 
 
Epilogue. Teresa of Avila: Doctor of the Church, Doctor of the Soul

 

In 1970 Teresa of Avila, along with St Catherine of Siena, was declared a Doctor of the Universal Church by Pope Paul VI in Rome. According to the ‘New Catholic Encyclopedia’ in 1967:

 

          No woman has been proclaimed (Doctor of the Church), although   Teresa of Avila has popularly been given the title because of the         influence of her spiritual teaching; it would seem that no woman is       likely to be named because of the link between this title and the     teaching office, which is limited to males. (Forshaw: 1967)

 

By conferring this honour upon her, the church demonstrated that Teresa’s teaching had indeed become of age, yet it had waited several centuries before giving her this recognition. In light of the examination of her texts in this book this is perhaps unsurprising. As I have argued throughout, I believe that her writings remain as challenging today as they did five hundred years ago. What I hope to have demonstrated in this account is the intellectual rigour with which Teresa explores the landscape of the soul and how throughout she is alive to the nuances and subtleties of the language required to depict the encounter of the soul with the transcendent. As we have seen, this she does by using the tradition of theologia mystica to which she is heir but adapting it, almost playing with it, to forge a unique spiritual language as finely wrought as anything by a contemporary linguistic philosopher. By forging this provocative and challenging language she truly deserves to be called a ‘Doctor of the Soul.’

          I have concluded the book with a descriptive analysis of two aspects of the contemporary psycho-spiritual thought-world: the rediscovery of ‘mindfulness’ as a tool for clinical intervention and the long shadow cast by Carl Jung and his pioneering research into the nature of soul and psyche. In doing this I hope to have demonstrated how a re-reading of Teresa in the light of this context can challenge us to perceive our contemporary spiritual anthropology in new and surprising lights.

          In the case of Jungian analytical psychology the questions raised by the challenges of Teresa’s approach are ones not unfamiliar within the discipline itself. The second generation Jungian theorist, James Hillman (1926 – 2011), writing in the same year as the ‘Catholic Encyclopedia’ was pronouncing on the legitimacy of the female teaching office, stated:

 

          Because the soul is lost – or at least temporarily mislaid or bewildered      –ministers have been forced, upon meeting a pastoral problem, to go         upstairs to its neighbour, the next closest thing to soul: the mind. So   the churches turn to academic and clinical psychology, to      psychodynamics and psychopathology and psychiatry, in attempts to         understand the mind and its workings. This has led ministers to regards troubles of the soul as mental breakdowns and cure of soul as       psychotherapy. But the realm of the mind – perception, memory,       mental diseases – is a realm of its own, another flat belonging to     another owner who can tell us very little about the person whom the        minister really wants to know, the soul. (Hillman 1967:44)

 

Yet, shortly before his death in 2011, the same theorist voiced a sense of disillusionment with the direction that Analytical Psychology had taken in the past few years:

 

          I am critical of the whole analytic discipline… It has become a kind of       New Age substitute for life, on the one hand; a substitute for rigorous education in culture, philosophy and religion, on the other; and third, a ‘helping profession’… the whole thing has lost its way. Something is         deeply missing.[1]

 

This, ‘something’, he had described in somewhat cryptic terms in the earlier Insearch in terms that Teresa would probably have concurred with:

 

          Besides the familiar reality of my mental activity (my introspection,           worries, plans, observations, reflections, projects), and the worldly   reality of objects, there can grow a third realm, a sort of conscious     unconscious. It is rather non-directed, non-ordered, non-object, non-       subject, not quite a reality of a concrete kind… It is a realm for itself,          neither object nor subject, yet both. This third reality is a psychic        reality, a world of experiences, emotions, fantasies, moods, visions,           dreams, dialogues, physical sensations, a large and open space, free         and spontaneous. (Hillman 1967:66)

 

It is from this ‘third position’: ‘the knowing unknowing’ of the medieval stulta sapientia, that I have suggested Teresa’s perspective on the soul arises, and it is from this third perspective that this book has been written. As we find ourselves in a world of rising materialism on the one hand and simplistic religious fundamentalism on the other, Teresa offers, I suggest, a light-footed path of desire that will lead us from the abyss into which we stare. Taken as a whole her writings provide a course in self-awareness and discovery, the aim of which is to lead us back into engagement with the world where our ‘decentred’ self may be nourished by the deep libidinal sources of grace that lie within us as our birthright.

          Kristeva, with whom we began this book, sees in Teresa’s phrase Buscate in Mí / ‘Seek Yourself in Me’ - heard in prayer sometime around 1576 (See VE), a rebuke to the Western tradition of ‘Know Thyself’ and the Cartesian ‘I think therefore I am’. She replaces the Socratic command with the Teresian Connais-toi en Moi – ‘Know Thyself in Me’ (Kristeva 2008:35). Is this, perhaps, Teresa’s message to us today? She is the ‘symbolic thinker’ who taps into the deep subterranean libidinal sources upon which the roots of Western culture rests. As we listen to her gentle voice we realise that the wounded and disorientated postmodern soul is being called back to the ancient realities of the pre-modern self. For if we listen carefully we can just about make out the quiet song of a little girl singing in a cool courtyard high above the mountains of central Spain on a hot summer afternoon a long, long time ago. The breeze catches her song and we hear it again, now clear, now indistinct. Now, more than ever, the world once again needs to listen, and dance to, that song:

 

Alma, buscarte has en Mí,                     Soul, you must Seek Thyself in Me,

Y a Mí, buscarme has en ti.          And in Thyself Seek Me!

 

De tal suerte pudo amor,                      With such fortune could love,

Alma, en mí te retratar                         Soul, portray you in me

Que ningún sabio pintor                        Such that no gifted painter

Supiera con tal primor                          Could portray that beauty

Tal imagen estampar                            With which the image is engraved.

 

Fuiste por amor criada                          For love created you,

Hermosa, bella, y así                            Precious, fair one,

En mis entrañas pintada,                      Deep within me carved,

Si te perdieres, mi amada,                     For if you lose me, love,

Alma, buscarte has en Mí                      Soul, Seek Thyself in Me!

 

Que yo sé que te hallaras                      For I know that you will find

En mi pecho retratada                          Yourself engraved in my heart

Y tan al vivo sacada                              And so drawn from life

Que si te ves te holgaras                       That when you see you will rejoice

Viéndote tan bien pintada.                    To see yourself so well painted.

 

Y si acaso no supieres                           And if by chance you do not know

Donde me hallarás a Mí,                        Where to find me,

No andes de aquí para allí,                    Don’t wander here and there,

Sino, si hallarme quisieres                     For, if you want to find me,

A Mí buscarme has en ti.                       In Thyself Seek Me!

 

Porque tú eres mi aposento,                  For you are my refuge,

Eres me casa y morada,                        My home and my dwelling place,

Y así llamo en cualquier tiempo,             And if I call at any time,

Si hallo en tu pensamiento                    And find in the castle of your mind

Estar la puerta cerrada.                         The door is closed.

 

Fuera de ti no hay buscarme                  Do not look for me outside yourself

Porque para hallarme a Mí                     For, if you want to find me

Bastará solo llamarme,                          All you need do is call me,

Que a ti iré sin tardarme                       Then I shall come quickly

Y a Mí buscarme has en ti.                     And in Thyself Seek Me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

oooOOOooo

 



[1] Interview with Jan Marlan, International Association of Analytical Psychology Newsletter 26:2006.
 

Ecclesiam Suam - Archbishop Kevin McDonald's Speech







Dear All

Well its been a busy last two weeks but the great summer school here in Texas is now coming to an end - the last talk is tonight. I will put up a separate post about that shortly. However I wanted to put here a link to Archbishop Kevin McDonald's speech /booklaunch at our 'Ecclesiam Suam' conference two weeks ago. I hope you enjoy it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpMhxL_dKgU

What has emerged since the conference has been the wonderful interest in continuing the dialogue and pursuing it in new ventures. Prof Sara Sviri, Dr Jonathan Gorsky, Dr Mustafa Baig, Dr Michael Kirwan, Dr Lynne Scholefield, myself and many other colleagues and associates are very keen for us to take the Toledan/Convivencia framework forward with some new events in the coming months. So watch this space! Equally some new ventures around the area of Jewish-Christian dialogue are being mooted. Prof Jose Nandhikkara is now organising a dialogue conference in Bangalore for January next year with ourselves and Liverpool Hope University as dialogue partners. So all in all the work of the conference, including the conference publication, looks set to continue for many months and years to come. A fitting tribute to Pope Paul VI and the extraordinary work he accomplished 50 years ago.

Best wishes

Peter 

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

Jean Gerson and the Mystical Theology




Great to get the chance to read Jean Gerson again today in preparation for tonight's lecture - Here is the relevant extract from my 'Return to the Mystical' (Continuum 2011) which I will be referring to tonight...

best wishes

Peter



Jean Gerson

 

Unlike Gallus and Hugh of Balma, of whom we know very little, Gerson’s life is well documented and accounted for. If he is known at all today Gerson is most often cited as one of the main architects of resolving the split in the medieval church between two, and later three Popes: the so-called ‘Great Schism’ of 1378 - 1417. As an advocate of ‘conciliar’ policy Gerson is seen as a leading exponent of a non-monarchical view of ecclesiology that stresses the power of councils to determine Christian doctrine, even over the heads of popes and patriarchs (see Morrall 1960). During a lifetime of academic research the Chancellor was particularly concerned with reconciling the affectus and intellectus amongst his students, or as he calls it the theologia mystica and the theologia speculativa, and to this end wrote two treatises on the theologia mystica which both started as lectures to his Paris students: the first Speculative Treatise (Theologia Mystica Speculativa) presented in autumn 1402 and the second Practical Treatise (Theologia Mystica Practica) given five years later in 1407.[1] Although a noted intellectual Gerson had trouble reconciling his academic life of the mind with his affective life of prayer. It seems that the tradition of the theologia mystica which he embraced[2] enabled the troubled Chancellor to find some peace in his life (which he communicated to his students). After many tumultuous years the tired Chancellor was finally able to spend his last ten years in Lyon, teaching children catechetics and embracing the meditative life he had so long yearned for.[3]

In the Tractatus Primus Speculativus of the De Mystica Theologia, the Chancellor begins by asking: ‘whether it is better to have knowledge of God through penitent affectus or investigative intellectus?’(GMT: 1, Prol.1).[4] After much discussion Gerson makes it quite clear that he will employ the now familiar unknowing and affective mystical strategies within his discourse. Thus in Section 27 he declares:

 

Thus we see that it is correct to say that as contemplatio is in the cognitive power of the intelligence, the mistica theologia dwells in the corresponding affective power. (GMT: 1.27.7)[5]

 

Therefore ‘knowledge of God through mystical theology is better acquired through a penitent affectus than an investigative intellectus’ (GMT: 1.28.1). In this passage Gerson contrasts a theologia mystica that depends upon strategies of unknowing and affectivity to the cognitive or speculative knowledge acquired through the theologia speculativa. Clearly Gerson’s strategy differs from Dionysius’ in his emphasis on the purification of the affectus ‘through the fervour of penance in compunction, contrition and prayer’ (GMT: 1.28.2) for Gerson makes fine distinctions between the ‘purified affectus’ and the ‘sordid i.e. unpurified affectus’ (sordidis affectibus) corrupted by the ‘sensual habits of adolescence’ (qui corruptos adhuc habent sensus ab adolescentia). For Gerson the eros of affectus is not an unqualified force for the good as it was in the original text of Dionysius, it may be tainted by the ‘sordid affectus’ of youth.[6]

He rests with Hugh of Balma’s definition of the theologia mystica as ‘extensio animi in Deum per amoris desiderium’: ‘The extension of the animus in God through the desire of love’ supplemented by the definitions: ‘sursum ductiva in Deum, per amorem fervidum et purum’,‘a raising movement in God, through fervent and pure love’ (GMT:1.28.5) and ‘cognitio experimentalis habita de Deo per amoris unitive complexum’, ‘cognition experienced of God through the embrace of unitive love’ and, following Dionysius DN.7: ‘Theologia mystica est irrationalis et amens, et stulta sapientia, excedens laudantes’: ‘The mystical theology is irrational and beyond mind and foolish wisdom, exceeding all praise’. He later returns to this in GMT: 1.43.2, ‘mistica theologia est cognitio experimentalis habita de Deo per coniunctionem affectus spiritualis cum eodum’: ‘theologia mystica is an experimental cognition of God through the union of the spiritual affectus with him’ – ‘as the blessed Dionysius states this takes place through ecstatic love’.

Therefore, for Gerson, the theologia speculativa resides in the potentia intellectiva whilst the theologia mystica resides in the potentia affectiva. Speculative theology uses ‘reasoning in conformity with philosophical disciplines’ (GMT: 1.30.2). Theologia mystica, on the other hand, needs no such ‘school of the intellect’ (scola intellectus). It is acquired through the ‘school of the affect’ (scola affectus) and (following Gerson’s importance attached to the purfication of the affect) through the exercise of the ‘moral virtues’ that ‘dispose the soul to purgation’ (GMT: 1.30.3). This is acquired through the ‘school of religion’ (scola religionis) or ‘school of love’ (scola amoris). The acquisition of the theologia mystica does not therefore require great knowledge or extensive study of books but may be acquired by ‘any of the faithful, even if she be an insignificant woman or someone who is illiterate’ (a quolibet fideli, etiam si sit muliercula vel ydiota) (GMT: 1.30.5). Concurring with St Bernard, Gerson suggests speculative theology can never be complete without mystical theology but the contrary can be the case: we all must acquire this ‘affectivity’ to reach right relationship with God. Therefore ‘the language of mystical theology is to be hidden from many who are clerics or learned or who are called wise in philosophy or theology, so it can be conveyed to many who are illiterate and naïve, provided they have faith’ (GMT: 1.31.1). At this point, as with Dionysius, Gerson employs the strategy of concealment for the ‘language of mystical theology’ is ‘to be hidden from many who are clerics or learned or are called wise in philosophy or theology’ (GMT: 1.31:1) lest they ‘tear apart with the teeth of dogs what they do not understand’. As he states at the end of section 42: ‘To explain these matters an endless succession of words could be added, but for experts these few words will suffice, for the inexpert no words will ever suffice for full comprehension’ (GMT: 1.42.9). It is an ‘irrational and mindless wisdom’ (‘irrationalis et amens sapientia’ 1.43:3) going beyond reason and mind and translating into the affectus.

We are once again in the place of the Wittgensteinian Blick at the interface of ‘saying and showing’ and we find this symbiotic relationship between the unknowing of intellect (‘they all agree that they have come to know that they know nothing’ GMT: 1.34.3) and the ‘wisdom’ of the affectus. The affectus, once purified, possesses all the passionate force of Dionysius’s ecstatic eros: ‘Love takes hold of the beloved and creates ecstasy, and this is called rapture because of the manner in which the mind is lifted up’ (GMT: 1.36.1) and again ‘love ravishes, unites and fulfills’ (GMT: 1.35.3). In conclusion, for Gerson, ‘the school of prayer (scola orandi) is more praiseworthy, other things being equal, than the school of learning/letters (scola litteras)’.

 

 



[1] Note the importance of Paris for the evolution of the theologia mystica
[2] As well as the Victorines, he quotes Balma as a work that should be read by all students and devotes a lengthy part of the treatises to commentary on Dionysius.
[3] Gerson is one of the first theologians to write directly in colloquial French so that all the faithful can understand his teaching. His insistence on ‘everyday manners of talking’ will be something we shall see he has in common with Teresa of Avila in Chapter Six.
[4] My translation: an cognitio Dei melius per penitentem affectum quam per intellectum investigantem habeatur.
[5] Et cognoscamus quoniam, appropriate loquendo, sicut contemplatio est in vi cognitive intelligentie, sic in vi affective correspondente reponitur mistica theologia.
[6] Gerson seemed to have a problem with the sexual lifes of his penitents. See On the Art of Hearing Confessions translated in McGuire 1998.

Tuesday, 24 June 2014

Teresa of Avila, her family and the Inquisition




Day Two of the Summer School here at the Oblate School of Theology, San Antonio, Texas and as always many questions about Teresa of Avila and the Inquisition. I am posting here a section from my book which I will using tonight with the class.

Many thanks again to Fr Ronald Rolheiser, Cliff Knighten, Greg Zuschlag and John Markey OP for making all this possible...


Smoke and Rock: Teresa’s Lineage

Until the mid-20th century most official biographers and commentators on Teresa had accepted the projected Ahumada-Cepeda[1] family picture of an ancient Castilian Christian family always ready to defend the Catholic faith and play a significant role in the ‘re-Christianisation’ (la reconquista) of Muslim Spain.[2] Although, as mentioned, hints and suggestions find their way into Teresa’s writings we had little idea of her actual family lineage itself until comparatively recently. Within a decade of her death in 1582 none of the dispositions for the processes which would lead to her canonisation mention any doubt over her ‘pure blood’ and in fact emphasise her ‘noble’ lineage or that she was of ‘old Christian’ blood (See Egido 1980: 135-7).[3] This fiction is repeated for the next four centuries in her ensuing biographies, sadly reinforced by and reinforcing the need to ally religious with political (usually Christian nationalist) sensibilities.

          This was to all change dramatically in 1946 when an extraordinary document was found by Alonso Cortés in the municipal archives of Valladolid. What is even more remarkable about this document is that it ‘disappeared’ from the archives not long after it had been found in 1960 only to mysteriously reappear 26 years later in 1986. At this point it was immediately transcribed by Teófanes Egido and published in his key work El Linaje Judeoconverso de Santa Teresa (Egido 1986). The document, a pleito de hidalguía or lawsuit of nobility, is reproduced in full in Egido’s text and details the attempt by Teresa’s father and three brothers to prove their ‘noble’ blood, largely to avoid the new tax imposed by the recently crowned King, Carlos I/ Charles V, in 1519. The case began that same year and seemed to start off well with good supporting arguments from the four brothers: Alonso (Teresa’s father), Pedro and Ruy Sanchez and Francisco Alvares.[4] However as the case proceeds all sorts of counter-witnesses begin to appear from the woodwork.     From the testimonies we discover that Teresa’s great-grandparents, Teresa and Alonso de Sanchez (presumably ‘Teresa’ was a popular name in the family) lived in the Saint Olalla or Saint Leocadia district of Toledo. Here their son, Juan Sanchez, the father of the Cepeda brothers, was born, later becoming a cloth and fine silk merchant who would eventually move to the Calle de Andrino in Avila sometime in the 1480s. In Avila the family was known as the toledanos (Juan appeared to adopt the name ‘Juan de Toledo’) and they continued the cloth business in an area known for the many Jews and conversos living there. Juan Sanchez, said some of the witnesses, was a man of great importance, having given help to King Henry IV and the Archbishop of Santiago, he also had a considerable fortune. Later, the family would move away from the cloth trade and live the life more fitting to minor nobility or hidalguía. The four boys thus had all the qualities for this station in life: they had the good pedigree and were loyal to the crown in the practice of arms.   

So far so good, as far as the Cepeda brothers were concerned. However, from spring 1520 contrary voices start to creep into the narrative. On 9th March, for example, Bernardo Platero, a resident of Avila, testifies that Juan Sanchez was ‘reconciled’ by the Inquisition in Toledo and wore there the ‘sanbenitillo’  – the strange garment of humiliation that those tried by the Inquisition had to wear as they processed through the streets for public ridicule (Egido 1986:167).[5] Juan González de las Piñuelas, another resident of Avila who knew the family well, provided further details on 12th May, testifying that Juan Sanchez ‘wore the sanbenitillo with its crosses publicly in procession with the other “reconciled ones” and walked in procession from church to church for seven Fridays in succession’ (Egido 1986:170). This was so damning for the brothers’ case that it had to be postponed while testimony was sought from the Inquisitorial office in Toledo. This was duly forthcoming with the final confirmation of Juan Sanchez’s ‘reconciliation’:

 

          (It is certified by the Holy Office of the Inquisition of the city and         archdiocese of Toledo) that on the 22nd day of the month of June, in       the year 1485, Johan de Toledo, merchant, son of Alonso Sanchez,           inhabitant of Toledo in the district of Santa Leocadia, gave, presented and swore to a confession before the then Lord Inquisitors, in which he        said and confessed that he had done and committed many serious          crimes and offences of heresy and apostasy against our holy Catholic   faith. (Egido 1986:189)

 

However, even more interesting is that one of Teresa’s uncles Hernando or Fernando Sanchez did not seem to be reconciled. Egido speculates that this ‘mysterious’ uncle died early, however we do not as yet know more about him (he appears to have left for Salamanca to study).

          Yet despite this damning evidence the Cepedas duly received their noble status in August 1522, suggesting that a certain amount of wealth, liberally disposed, could always have the necessary effect.

 



[1] Teresa’s family names, literally ‘Smoke’ and ‘Rock’. See, for example, Efrén de la Madre de Dios 1951: 160: ‘St Teresa esteemed highly, as did everyone, having been born of noble parents; from her earliest childhood she would hear in her house interminable praise of her noble background.’ This statement was corrected in later versions of the work.
[2] For more on the political and social background of La Reconquista see my John of the Cross, Chapter 1.
[3] ‘Old Christian’ was a term used to refer to families who had not been ‘tainted’ by Jewish or Muslim blood during the ‘occupation’ of Spain by the Muslims. As the 16th century proceeded such designations, connected with the so-called ‘statutes of pure blood’, would become increasingly important in delineating a person’s social standing in post-reconquista Spain (For more on this see, for example, Elliott 2002).
[4] For more on the confusing, often converso, practice of switching and adopting multiple surnames see Davies 1981.
[5] We have some later representations of this odd garment. It was like a rough tunic on which was painted the diagonal cross of St Andrew in red ink. Towards the end of the Inquisition, in the 18th century, the sanbenito would designate all sorts of degrees and types of heresy and apostasy. See Roth 1995.