Though our religions generally deserve credit for demanding that their adherents follow their charitable instincts and cleave to their moral codes, these benefits are drowned by the oceans of blood that have been spilled over both their gods and their forced conversions. Throughout history, we repeatedly witness these faiths, born out of injustice and despair, coalesce around a central figure whose noble example is a shining beacon of hope in the darkness of a corrupted world. But while some are inspired to live better lives, others are invariably inspired to harness the immense powers unleashed by these saviors, powers which are eventually codified into authoritarian institutions bent upon the preservation of their influence and their gravitas, not the betterment of the people they purport to serve. It is through this corrosive process that a faith like Christianity, animated by the notion of noble self-sacrifice, becomes the banner around which murderers and madmen rally, eager for a taste of God's glory. This piece from Mr. Rubenstein is surely one of the west's most vivid examples of this hypocrisy in motion. It won't soon be forgotten.
Though later centuries would make convincing claims to be called the most destructive in human history, the hundred years, from 1000 to 1099 AD ended in spectacular destruction. It harbored the first of a series of savage, existential conflicts between east and west that would eventually be christened the Crusades by the Christians who initiated them. Brought about by the ascension of Islamic power in the east and the waning of the Byzantine bulwark that had, for the most part, kept Muslims from European shores, western Christians, plagued by a fractured church and a disunited continent, were, in 1095, rallied, by Pope Urban II, around the notion of the liberation of Jerusalem from the Saracens that had rested her from their rightful ownership.
In answer to Urban II's call, an army of nobles and peasants, sinners and innocents, was formed in France. For this was a force willing to take in anyone who had but a single desire, to take the cross upon their breast and, with Christ in their hearts, journey to distant Jerusalem and evict the filthy turks from the most holiest city. A mighty goal, but to achieve it this army, composed of as many preachers and monks as warriors and strategists, would have to sail treacherous seas, navigate the corruption of Byzantium, stave off the horrors of starvation and dissolution, and conquer vast territories before they could even reach Jerusalem. A long and bloody road filled with betrayals and bloodshed, hardship and heresy, and a price that may well be ruined in the taking.
From the Council of Clermont to the massacre at Jerusalem, Mr. Rubenstein, a historian of the medieval world, has, in Armies of Heaven vividly reconstructed the politics and the realities of both the 11th century and the apocalyptic conflict that ravaged it. Couching the First Crusade in the context of End Times, Mr. Rubenstein chronicles the earnest belief among Christians that the world was coming to an end and that their taking of Jerusalem held a prominent place in that eschatology. In this, the author expands our understanding of the conflict's beginnings even while, with revolting detail, he recounts the perfidy of the crusading army's leaders, the insanity of its preachers and the savagery of its warriors. These scenes of horror will not only leave a mark; they leave no doubt as to the extent to which ideology, particularly spiritual beliefs, entangles humans in knots of ultimately murderous logic. There is nothing here of Christ, at least as he comes down to us in the 21st century.
Powerful and informative... Mr. Rubenstein's work possesses the customary dryness of most scholarly histories. However, it is also animated by the undeniable nihilism of the period and the savagery of the quest to take Jerusalem. Both have the power to leave the reader gaping with dismay. An eye opener and, thus, neither for the faint of heart nor the blind of faith. (4/5 Stars)
No comments:
Post a Comment