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Hildegard of Bingen: Sibyl of the Rhine, Singing Still

It’s an age of widespread cultural and ecclesial malaise: the State encroaches ever more into the affairs of the church; the clergy is indolent and ineffective, oft corrupt and unchaste; the laity is poorly catechized; and Gnosticism advances. It’s the twelfth century, into which a Teutonic prophetess stepped, prepared to confront the spirits of the age with visions from on high. Nihil sub sole novum, and thus it’s worth considering on the occasion of St. Hildegard of Bingen’s feast day (tomorrow, Saturday, September 17) how her sauce for medieval geese might go well with our modern ganders.

Many have made Hildegard in their own image. She became a mystic to later medievals who saw her through the lens of her popular disciple Elisabeth of Schönau, although she was more properly a visionary and prophet. To humanists like Jacob Faber Stapulensis she became a woman of letters, to Reformers like Andreas Osiander a Protestant, and (in our own day) to the feminists like filmmaker Margarethe von Trotta a proto-feminist. She has become all things to all people that she might serve some. Like Jesus, of the making of Hildegards there is no end.

The real Hildegard, however, was of course a hardcore medieval Catholic: among many other things, a defender of hierarchy in Church and society and a hammerer of heretics whose visions were in essence doctrinal expositions of Scripture according with the beliefs of the times. Frankly, those who disdain various aspects of modern feminism should nevertheless rejoice that feminist scholars and filmmakers have played a major role in stoking contemporary interest in Hildegard even if they sometimes neglect the more traditional aspects of her person, activity and legacy.

For instance, von Trotta’s recent film on Hildegard, Vision, is exceptional, only occasionally falling into two-dimensional clichés about the middle ages and power and gender relations therein. But while von Trotta presents Hildegard speaking truth to the power that is Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, a notorious supporter of antipopes against Alexander III, she presents Hildegard’s seeking the support and approval of St. Bernard of Clairvaux and Pope Eugenius III with less interest and passion.

Indeed, for Hildegard's defense of the freedom of the visible Church the Holy Father of today, Pope Benedict, himself confronted by millions of armchair antipopes, recommends her to contemporary Catholics in the recently issued collection of his series of catechetical talks on female saints entitled Holy Women:


This, dear friends, is the seal of an authentic experience of the Holy Spirit, the source of every charism: the person endowed with supernatural gifts never boasts of them, never flaunts them and, above all, shows complete obedience to the ecclesial authority. Every gift bestowed by the Holy Spirit, is in fact intended for the edification of the Church, and the Church, through her pastors, recognizes its authenticity.

Yet Hildegard is not only an example of extreme submission to the grace of divine revelation defined, promulgated and enforced by ecclesiastical authority. She also investigated nature on its own terms in a spirit of profound curiosity. Unlike her visionary Scivias, her scientific treatises (the only such works extant from the twelfth-century West) are rooted in observation, not divine inspiration, and geared toward the good of man in their medicinal application.

Even if her knowledge of nature is not a matter of revelation, for Hildegard nature is not separate from the divine. Rather, Benedict reminds us, “Hildegard stresses the deep relationship that exists between man and God and reminds us that the whole creation, of which man is the summit, receives life from the Trinity . . . For her, the entire creation is a symphony of the Holy Spirit who is in himself joy and jubilation.”

Indeed, nihil sub sole novum, save the Incarnation, the only truly new thing in the world, in which we see the most extreme union of grace and nature, around which Hildegard’s entire theology revolves. The Creator is the incarnate Word who became man, and the form of man stands at the center of the cosmos as microcosm.

Her theology coupled with her iron personality made her an implacable enemy of the dualistic and gnostic Cathars. Their descendants are with us today, for the modernity in which we live and move and have our being is a Gnostic flight from any constraints of nature, a secularized version of grace destroying nature (and thus all too often human persons) by means of technology, an insanity running headlong into death that will heed no warnings from the Church, preferring the antipope in its belly; being Gnostic, our age cannot even conceive of the possibility of a visible Church. In contrast, Hildegard’s incarnational, sacramental vision takes seriously the concept of a visible, authoritative Church speaking truth about the goodness and harmony of God, nature and man as its microcosm.

What if, however, the Church on earth appears feckless and fallible? Benedict here too points us to Hildegard’s example: “In a special way Hildegard countered the movement of German cátari (Cathars). They (cátari means literally “pure”) advocated a radical reform of the Church, especially to combat the abuses of the clergy. She harshly reprimanded them for seeking to subvert the very nature of the Church, reminding them that a true renewal of the ecclesial community is obtained with a sincere spirit of repentance and a demanding process of conversion, rather than with a change of structures. This is a message we should never forget.”

Peter Berger once remarked, “Ages of faith are not marked by dialogue but by proclamation.” Would that our own age was marked more by holy women and men like St. Hildegard, fearless in faithful proclamation for the sake of God and his creatures. In the meantime, while we wait for another and doubtless very different St. Benedict (or do we have one now right under our very noses?), may we learn from a humble and powerful Benedictine, St. Hildegard of Bingen, the Sibyl of the Rhine, for she is singing still.

Leroy Huizenga is Director of the Christian Leadership Center at the University of Mary in Bismarck, North Dakota. His most recent article in First Things is "The Collins Bank Bible."

RESOURCES

Stella Nesanovich, First Visions

Charlotte Allen, The Holy Feminine

Stella Nesanovich, Let This Green Earth

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Comments:

9.16.2011 | 2:54am
Kamilla says:
Leroy,

Excellent! I did a bit of reading on Hildegard for my medieval philos class but found it difficult to gather resources that weren't tainted by Matthew Fox.

"how her sauce for medieval geese might go well with our modern ganders."

Great turn of phrase!

Kamilla
9.16.2011 | 7:30am
I was introduced to Hildegard of Bingen about fifteen years ago by the oratorio "Voices of Light" by Richard Einhorn, which was written, using medieval texts, to provide a score for the old silent film "The Passion of St. Joan of Arc." One of the texts by Hildegard (alas, not with her music) stuck out to me to the point that I still remember it:

O feminea forma, o soror sapientiae, / O feminine form, O sister of wisdom,
quam gloriosa es! / how glorious you are!
Quoniam fortissima vita / For the mightiest life
in te surrexit, / in you has arisen
quam mors numquam suffocabit! / which death will never stifle!

I hadn't known, or had forgotten, that the main heresy during which those of her lifetime fought against was Catharism, but it doesn't surprise me, given the way she, adhering to orthodoxy, takes an aspect of humanity and uses it to point to the Incarnation. How better to counter gnostics?
9.16.2011 | 2:13pm
Durin says:
I cannot pass up an article on Hildegard of Bingen without stopping to praise her music.
9.16.2011 | 2:26pm
@Durin: Yes, you should praise it. I didn't take much occasion to discuss it in this piece, but it is wonderful. I've got a couple recordings. The Vision soundtrack is less than I would have hoped, but it's got a couple good selections.
9.16.2011 | 3:33pm
Jahresendseo says:
Great singer, great artist!
9.16.2011 | 3:44pm
Charles Lee says:
"...extreme submission to the grace of divine revelation defined, promulgated and enforced by ecclesiastical authority"? Really? I seem to recall Hildegard had no problem going over her abbot's head to secure permission to move herself and her nuns to a new location in Rupertsberg. Or to correspond directly with popes, or to roundly condemn accepted church practices of the time, such as selling benefices. While no doubt she was following the grace of divine revelation, it's a painful stretch to tie these behaviors to ecclesiastical authority. It seems to me Hildegard would have been a royal pain to everyone in the magisterium. "Obedient" is hardly the descriptor of choice. You GO, girl!

I'm sure many First Things readers will share your derisive sense of the term "feminism", but I think it's a mistake not to celebrate, in its totality, the authentic, never-before-seen, in-your-face womanliness of this writer/ poet/ playwright/ musician/ painter/ mystic.

For balance, I recommend Thomas Cahill's _Mysteries of the Middle Ages: The Rise of Feminism, Science, and Art from the Cults of Catholic Europe_, Available in hardcover from Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2006
9.16.2011 | 5:11pm
Well, Charles, that's a bit intense, isn't it? We're all well aware (at least, those who have read her and read about her) that she butted heads with authority from time to time, but I think what I've written is fundamentally sound. As a Catholic, you're generally allowed to go up the chain, as it were, "appealing to Caesar" if need be; simply, for whatever strains she had with whatever authorities, ecclesial approval was fundamentally important to her. (I didn't put it in the piece, but Hildegard was under interdict for about six months at the end of her life.)

As far as feminism goes, I meant precisely what I precisely wrote: "Frankly, those who disdain various aspects of modern feminism should nevertheless rejoice that feminist scholars and filmmakers have played a major role in stoking contemporary interest in Hildegard...", and "those" doesn't necessarily include me. Some folks here and there have gone so far as to ascribe her works to Volmar, thinking a woman couldn't have done what she did; I'm trying to praise her "feminine genius" (cf. JPII's Mulieris Dignitatem, to which Benedict adverts in his talk on Hildegard) while -- indeed, by -- situating her within the medieval Catholic tradition from which so many have tried to extract her for their own purposes.

The Cahill book would not be a good place to begin to learn about Hildegard or the middle ages, in my opinion. I'd recommend Hildegard of Bingen: Scivias in the Classics of Western Spirituality series, then perhaps Regine Pernoud's Hildegard of Bingen (if one can find an English copy; Pernoud does a good job of taking a topical approach to Hildegard and situating her in her 12th-century milieu), perhaps Sabina Flanagan's Hildegard of Bingen: A Visionary Life and Fiona Maddock's Hildegard of Bingen: The Woman of Her Age. After that, one can search and find myriad anthologies of her writings. The Penguin anthology (as is usual) is a good place to start.
9.17.2011 | 12:11am
What no recommendations for Barbara Newman's studies of Hildegard or her lovely translations of Hildegard's poetry? Yes, Newman is a feminist but also a great medievalist. I found her useful while writing my own article on Hildegard for the Catholic Answer earlier this year.

Besides her writings and music, people interested in Hildegard should also take a look at the unique images--prepared at her direction--that illustrate her visions. They're quite amazing!
9.17.2011 | 2:45pm
Richard says:
I am ashamed to admit that I don't know much about the holy Hildegard, except that she was a brilliant composer of sacred music in the Middle Ages, but I have now dipped into the vast corpus of her writings enough to be convinced that God was the Alpha and Omega of her life and work, and that those who attempt to capture her genius for some secular purpose, particularly if it slights or fights the divine, have taken into their citadel the Trojan Horse of the Living God. Troy tried something like that and did not fare well.

Best,

Richard
9.17.2011 | 4:49pm
AL says:
The word is 'Sibyl', not 'Sybil'.
9.18.2011 | 4:06pm
@Sandra: Sorry; bibliography wasn't exhaustive. Thanks for pointing us to that. @AL: It's right in the text; working on fixing the title. Thanks for the heads-up.
9.18.2011 | 4:54pm
AL says:
Glad to be of service. The beauty of web-text--the only beauty of web-text--is that slips of that sort are not indelible.
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