The unanticipated revelation

In my first encounter with the Canterbury Tales, when Chaucer associated the word Host with the best food and wine, my Catholic background brought echoes of poetic references to the Eucharist. Many more clues identify Christ concealed within the Canterbury Host.
      His bookkeeping transactions are identical to terms portraying Judgment, as if each soul clutches a personal balance sheet when approaching Death's door.
     When the Host requires immediate acceptance of his travel plan for the pilgrims, it can be seen as daily life. Man accepts God's will for each day, without knowing what lies ahead.
     A fleeting image of Christ as traditional shepherd comes to our mind's eye, when the  Host gathers the pilgrims "all in a flock."
     Examples of "offensive language," (trivializing the sacred) in the surface storyline become personal covert references to Christ's passion and death. The most meaningful--"Harrow, by nails and by blood"--recalls Christ's harrowing hell. As a consequence of Christ's crucifixion, worthy souls attained their long-awaited release and entrance into heaven.
     To indicate the Host as the "most enveloped in sin,"again points to a traditional image of Christ, who takes all our sins upon Himself. Sinfulness envelops Christ; it envelops the Canterbury Host, as well.
     For the surface story, the Host's declaration, "I know the substance is in me," is arbitrarily accepted as "I have the capacity to understand." Substance, however, makes a direct theological connection "with regard to the being of God, the divine nature or essence." And substance is "used of the incarnate Christ." The substance is also in the Canterbury Host.

Is this complex sequence of identifiers only meant to confirm that Christ leads pilgrims on their life journey? No. There is more. We have not mentioned the Host's wife before. She is not in the pilgrim company. She is never seen but merely commented upon by the Host. He laments that his wife is cruel, demanding, quarrelsome, unfeeling--then breaks off, hesitant to say too much. The elaborate plan disguises Chaucer's concern. He dare not become obvious.
     Who do we recognize as the Host's wife? In other words, who is the traditional Bride of Christ? The Church. Chaucer dare not have his dissent regarding the Church become obvious.
     Here is the comparative test: If his lament is that of an innkeeper, we see a dreadful married relationship. But, with the potential of allegory, read the words again, as if uttered by Christ accusing the Church: She is cruel, demanding, quarrelsome, unfeeling. This aptly describes the medieval Church's power and widespread action of the Inquisition on the Continent during the 1300s.
     The comic image of an apparently henpecked husband provides a distracting surface characterization. Once Christ's identity is established, however, the poet's dissension is recognized in the covert interpretation. When the hidden intention leapt out at me--I shuddered.

Next time, a look at what inspired Chaucer's risk-taking.

The Host wears many hats

Chaucer's Host tells his guests that they will "stand at his judgment" and he will "tell them what to do." Does his plan please the pilgrims? Apparently it does. When he directs them--without more talk--to raise their hands as a sign of acceptance, they respond immediately and ask him to do even more. He tells them he will be their guide, and they ask him, in addition, to be their governor and reporter.

     So, how do we accomplish the task we've set for ourselves in this blog? How do we recognize Christ in these roles? Perhaps we don't , but in the 14th century each specified role was based on a traditional image of Christ.

     For example, Chaucer himself, in his translation of Boethius says, "God governs all things in the world . . . ; and all things will obey [are obliged to ] Him." And Cursor Mundi, which we've drawn from before, refers to Christ as "our Lord and God / And evermore our governor." John Lydgate, addressing the Eucharistic Christ, beseeches Him to "govern and guide us."

     Chaucer, in several works, shares this point of view as he calls upon God as guide of mankind, and indicates that it is God who leads men. Here, in the General Prologue, the Host freely offers himself as guide for the pilgrimage.

     And what about being a reporter? Christ, in the Chester Play of the Last Judgment, is addressed as "informer of all things," and the Grail Legend portrays a sinner asking Christ to have pity and mercy "my sins to report."

     Who receives the report? That's clarified in Cynewolf's Last Judgment. Men will come before "God's Son" and "the Father . . . will learn / how . . . [men] have guarded their souls" while on earth. And, in Wyclif's Gospel of John, Jesus asks if men expect him to accuse them before God the Father. Today, we are probably more comfortable when the Bible calls Christ our "advocate" with the Father.

     The Host will hand down verdicts, his guests swear oaths to abide by his directives. We are aware that the Host's proposal and pilgrims' agreement are overlaid with terms too serious, decisions to automatic. This could be interpreted as comedy on the surface. But, in an underlying interpretation, the scene portrays the  resignation of profound inevitability--man's inescapable submission to God's plan. The weightiness of oaths and verdicts informs us that these are more that mere friendly interactions.

     The activity described is universal; it is daily life--man bound to accept each day, though he knows not what lies ahead. The circumstance dramatizes God's prerogative. As Chaucer's Parson counsels: "Always a man shall put his will subject to the will of God."

     With the Host's position assured and agreements reached, it is time for sleep. We will pick up the story next week as the pilgrims prepare to depart on their journey.