Chaucer had traveled the Continent--eyes and ears open. We've read the startling message concealed in the Canterbury Tales. The Host's wife (The Church) is cruel, demanding, quarrelsome, as was the widespread action of the Inquisition. Today's scholars describing the Host's wife, could be characterizing the medieval Church: easily angered, absolutely reckless, awe-inspiring, powerful arms, fearing no one.
In the early 1300s, Inquisitors asked to apply torture without limitations to heretics, and thus "the Church grew harder and crueller and more unchristian," states H. C. Lea, an historian of the Inquisition.
How would Chaucer view life after all he'd seen? He advises, "Here is not home, here is nothing but wilderness." Christians were often called suddenly to Judgment from disease, politics, or random violence.
To publicly--or privately--raise objection to the ruling system, you'd be in jeopardy. Those in authority were seen as chosen by God, so to differ with God's chosen ones amounted to high treason.
Allegory thrives in a rigid authoritarian environment. Fourteenth-century Europe would have been fertile ground for hidden protests.
The poet's well-being and the survival of his messages, depended upon maintaining his good relationship with the royal court. Disaster struck many near him. Friends were executed with varying degrees of cruelty. Nevertheless, Chaucer and his works, remained unscathed.
On the Continent, Inquisitors were nowhere yet everywhere, like secret police. When the Inquisition reached England, religious dissenters met increasing severity. Consequently, a few month after the poet's death, the first English heretic to be "found guilty" (William Sawtre) was burned at the stake.
Why would Chaucer persist while knowing the result could be fearful death? The answer--it was a matter of conscience. One who had important information had a moral responsibility to share it. He sinned "who shutteth knowledge in his mouth."
Pilgrim Chaucer speaks of messages discreet and wise. Allegory could discreetly prove his obedience to God, and ease his conscience, as well.
When the poet moved to Westminster Abbey in June, 1400, England was once again in political upheaval. Several courtiers who were his friends had been cruelly executed. Thomas Usk, for example, was both hanged and beheaded. It is speculated that his motive for moving to the Abbey could have been for the protection of sanctuary.
The inspired "paper pilgrimage" led to Thomas á Becket. Who better to supplicate when in need of courage and perseverance? I believe Chaucer sought courage to persevere no matter what the cost, and to face death (if need be) as Thomas á Becket had.
The poet's closing prayer pleads, "Christ have mercy on me and forgive me my offenses." He concluded with the hope "that I may be one of them, at the day of judgment, that shall be saved." I believe Geoffrey Chaucer saw this world's hazards, however great, as temporary; but the hereafter, unending. As a man of conscience, he took the risk.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Saturday, March 16, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, March 8, 2013
A matter of substance
This entry, our penultimate clue, will focus on a matter of genuine substance.
The Host interrupts himself while speaking to the Pilgrim Monk. In a brief aside, he advises that if no one is listening, there is no point in telling a story. Then, he repeats the advice but gives it a clerical, a religious emphasis.
For certainly, as these clerics say,
Whereas a man may have no audience,
It helps nothing to tell his sentence.
And well I know the substance is in me,
If anything shall well-reported be.
Sentence, in Chaucer's day, referred to meaning or doctrine. The Host seems to ramble. That gets our attention. What does lack of an audience have to do with a report?
For the surface story, "I know the substance is in me" is taken to mean "I have the capacity to understand," but that idea is not clear, nor particularly significant. "Substance," however, has great depth for medieval clerics, theologians. Fear not. Only two terms of theology will be dealt with, and their definitions are easily understood.
"Substance" is a fundamental aspect of faith. Notably in the primary definition of substance, the OED says: "Essential nature, essence; esp. Theol., with regard to the being of God. the divine nature or essence." The Athanasian Creed (1325) says of Christ, "He is God, of the substance of the Father." In addition, and again in the first entry, the MED says substance is "used of the incarnate Christ."
To declare substance being within the Host (the Eucharist) also confirms Transubstantiation. You could understand the term tran-substantia-tion as a changing of substance. A reading in the Divine Office states: "In [this sacrament] bread and wine are changed substantially into the body and blood of Christ." The Eucharistic Host, in the vocabulary of Scholastic Theology, uses two terms that, as I said earlier, are easily understood: accidents and substance.
Accidents, in this special designation, refers to qualities (of bread) that can be seen, while the substance (the essence) mystically becomes the body of Christ. One need not accept the doctrine. You just have to understand that THAT was, and is, the Dogma of the Church.
Chaucer wrote at a time of growing celebration of the presence of Christ within the Eucharist (the Real Presence). As a parallel, Chaucer's imaginative allegory describes the accidents, the attributes of the Canterbury Host that can be seen. These overt qualities conceal the substance, Christ's divine nature. Chaucer's Host indicates this covert identity here, and wants the fact "well reported."
We've seen a series of clues inscribe Christ within the Canterbury Host. Why? Are we only to see the basic confirmation that Christ leads Pilgrims on their life journey? No. There is more. Our final "clue" penetrates a humorous overlay. When the hidden significance came clear to me--I shuddered.
The Host interrupts himself while speaking to the Pilgrim Monk. In a brief aside, he advises that if no one is listening, there is no point in telling a story. Then, he repeats the advice but gives it a clerical, a religious emphasis.
For certainly, as these clerics say,
Whereas a man may have no audience,
It helps nothing to tell his sentence.
And well I know the substance is in me,
If anything shall well-reported be.
Sentence, in Chaucer's day, referred to meaning or doctrine. The Host seems to ramble. That gets our attention. What does lack of an audience have to do with a report?
For the surface story, "I know the substance is in me" is taken to mean "I have the capacity to understand," but that idea is not clear, nor particularly significant. "Substance," however, has great depth for medieval clerics, theologians. Fear not. Only two terms of theology will be dealt with, and their definitions are easily understood.
"Substance" is a fundamental aspect of faith. Notably in the primary definition of substance, the OED says: "Essential nature, essence; esp. Theol., with regard to the being of God. the divine nature or essence." The Athanasian Creed (1325) says of Christ, "He is God, of the substance of the Father." In addition, and again in the first entry, the MED says substance is "used of the incarnate Christ."
To declare substance being within the Host (the Eucharist) also confirms Transubstantiation. You could understand the term tran-substantia-tion as a changing of substance. A reading in the Divine Office states: "In [this sacrament] bread and wine are changed substantially into the body and blood of Christ." The Eucharistic Host, in the vocabulary of Scholastic Theology, uses two terms that, as I said earlier, are easily understood: accidents and substance.
Accidents, in this special designation, refers to qualities (of bread) that can be seen, while the substance (the essence) mystically becomes the body of Christ. One need not accept the doctrine. You just have to understand that THAT was, and is, the Dogma of the Church.
Chaucer wrote at a time of growing celebration of the presence of Christ within the Eucharist (the Real Presence). As a parallel, Chaucer's imaginative allegory describes the accidents, the attributes of the Canterbury Host that can be seen. These overt qualities conceal the substance, Christ's divine nature. Chaucer's Host indicates this covert identity here, and wants the fact "well reported."
We've seen a series of clues inscribe Christ within the Canterbury Host. Why? Are we only to see the basic confirmation that Christ leads Pilgrims on their life journey? No. There is more. Our final "clue" penetrates a humorous overlay. When the hidden significance came clear to me--I shuddered.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
The loathsome Pardoner clue
The Host's confrontation by the loathsome, contemptible Pilgrim Pardoner is a short but lively scene, ordinarily viewed with emphasis on humor.
He is a minor churchman, and a fraud, who peddles absolution. His targets--the unsuspecting and the impoverished faithful. What we learn about him from the narrator repels us, but when the Pardoner speaks for himself, he becomes even more hateful. For example, he tells us he has a collection of "relics," which he declares are authentic. He promises they will cure diseases in animals and humans and relieve suspicions of jealous husbands. He tells false stories and ruins reputations with his venom while claiming to edify. Greed is his only motive; he cares nothing about counseling sinners. But, so powerful and persuasive are his words that even the poorest give him money, wool and cheese, though their children are starving.
As he finishes promoting his cause to his companions, he offers to absolve each of them of his or her sins. Then he says, "I advise that Our Host here shall begin / For he is most enveloped in sin." The Host is invited to come forward and kiss each of the Pardoner's relics! At this, the Host lashes out at the Pardoner's boastfully confessed hypocrisy.
As we go to our task of finding the image of Christ within this action, the Host's anger is fitting. Recall Christ lashing out at the money changers in the temple.
One word, however, is the key to the scene--enveloped. Chaucer's Pardoner uses the word to describe the Host as most enveloped in sin. The Pardoner is not addressing a sinful man, that is, a sin-filled man. Sin surrounds, enfolds the Host. This image has long been a tradition with Christ. In the Harrowing of Hell, mentioned in our previous entry, Christ says to Satan, "Sin found thou never / In me as in other men."
And as Chaucer's humble Parson tells us, "Jesus Christ took upon Himself the pain of all our wickednesses," but "in Him is no imperfection." Sin is closely associated with Christ, but it is external to His being. The poet, in providing additional evidence of Christ, indicates the same of Our Host.
The tradition continues today. Christ is often described as taking all our sins upon Himself. Sinfulness is external to Christ; it envelops Him. That statement is a parallel to Chaucer's portrait of Our Host. Here again, we find a comic surface that needs to be penetrated in order to discover the portrait of Christ within. It takes only careful reading with an open mind to see the image Chaucer has concealed.
Next time, we will look at our penultimate clue, a matter of genuine substance.
He is a minor churchman, and a fraud, who peddles absolution. His targets--the unsuspecting and the impoverished faithful. What we learn about him from the narrator repels us, but when the Pardoner speaks for himself, he becomes even more hateful. For example, he tells us he has a collection of "relics," which he declares are authentic. He promises they will cure diseases in animals and humans and relieve suspicions of jealous husbands. He tells false stories and ruins reputations with his venom while claiming to edify. Greed is his only motive; he cares nothing about counseling sinners. But, so powerful and persuasive are his words that even the poorest give him money, wool and cheese, though their children are starving.
As he finishes promoting his cause to his companions, he offers to absolve each of them of his or her sins. Then he says, "I advise that Our Host here shall begin / For he is most enveloped in sin." The Host is invited to come forward and kiss each of the Pardoner's relics! At this, the Host lashes out at the Pardoner's boastfully confessed hypocrisy.
As we go to our task of finding the image of Christ within this action, the Host's anger is fitting. Recall Christ lashing out at the money changers in the temple.
One word, however, is the key to the scene--enveloped. Chaucer's Pardoner uses the word to describe the Host as most enveloped in sin. The Pardoner is not addressing a sinful man, that is, a sin-filled man. Sin surrounds, enfolds the Host. This image has long been a tradition with Christ. In the Harrowing of Hell, mentioned in our previous entry, Christ says to Satan, "Sin found thou never / In me as in other men."
And as Chaucer's humble Parson tells us, "Jesus Christ took upon Himself the pain of all our wickednesses," but "in Him is no imperfection." Sin is closely associated with Christ, but it is external to His being. The poet, in providing additional evidence of Christ, indicates the same of Our Host.
The tradition continues today. Christ is often described as taking all our sins upon Himself. Sinfulness is external to Christ; it envelops Him. That statement is a parallel to Chaucer's portrait of Our Host. Here again, we find a comic surface that needs to be penetrated in order to discover the portrait of Christ within. It takes only careful reading with an open mind to see the image Chaucer has concealed.
Next time, we will look at our penultimate clue, a matter of genuine substance.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
The Host's "offensive" language
In the links between the Tales, Chaucer continues to give us clues to prompt us to see Christ concealed within the Host. A prominent objection to his identity as Christ is his offensive language--but wait. The innkeeper speaking profanely of things sacred is not our object; we are pursuing a hidden message, not surface comedy.
First, let's establish what the Middle Ages understood to be offensive, that is, sinful language. To use God's name or refer to elements of Christ's passion and death as part of everyday conversation, was trivializing the sacred. For example: Christ's Holy Name, Christ's cross, By God's curse. Such phrases were believed to offend God. They were sinful and to be avoided. Today's values, to a great extent, appear to have changed.
Now to the Tales. Chaucer, in the General Prologue just before we meet the Host, says that "Christ himself spoke very broadly (freely) in holy writ / And you well know it is no villainy." This guides our view of the Host's words as simple and direct, assuming his expressions to be neither comedy, nor blasphemy.
His supposedly objectionable language is scattered among the Tales. His ventings, rather than "offensive to God," are direct references to Christ's passion and death. These are personal recollections:
God's worshipful passion
By the cross
By blood and bones
But the most meaningful of the Host's outbursts is "Harrow, by nails and by blood."
Chaucer and his contemporaries knew that Christ had been born to die. A medieval recounting of Christ's death says, "the godhead went into hell, / And harrowed it." This tells us that Christ's first action, after he died, was to harrow hell.
Harrowing is the release of souls of the worthy, who had been waiting through time for their Savior. His coming freed them to enter paradise. This consummation of God's plan was described in a poem of the Middle Ages called The Harrowing of Hell.
It is also commemorated in the ancient tradition of the Apostles' Creed: Christ "Suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, died and was buried: He descended into hell: The third day he rose again from the dead."
Then the Host's precise recollection--"Harrow, by nails and by blood"--recalls His harrowing of hell, as a consequence of being crucified.
To state the obvious, for those who would insist on the Host's words as blasphemy, we need only realize that God Himself could not use God's name in vain, nor could He blaspheme.
Next time, we will consider the Host's confrontation by the loathsome, contemptible Pilgrim Pardoner.
First, let's establish what the Middle Ages understood to be offensive, that is, sinful language. To use God's name or refer to elements of Christ's passion and death as part of everyday conversation, was trivializing the sacred. For example: Christ's Holy Name, Christ's cross, By God's curse. Such phrases were believed to offend God. They were sinful and to be avoided. Today's values, to a great extent, appear to have changed.
Now to the Tales. Chaucer, in the General Prologue just before we meet the Host, says that "Christ himself spoke very broadly (freely) in holy writ / And you well know it is no villainy." This guides our view of the Host's words as simple and direct, assuming his expressions to be neither comedy, nor blasphemy.
His supposedly objectionable language is scattered among the Tales. His ventings, rather than "offensive to God," are direct references to Christ's passion and death. These are personal recollections:
God's worshipful passion
By the cross
By blood and bones
But the most meaningful of the Host's outbursts is "Harrow, by nails and by blood."
Chaucer and his contemporaries knew that Christ had been born to die. A medieval recounting of Christ's death says, "the godhead went into hell, / And harrowed it." This tells us that Christ's first action, after he died, was to harrow hell.
Harrowing is the release of souls of the worthy, who had been waiting through time for their Savior. His coming freed them to enter paradise. This consummation of God's plan was described in a poem of the Middle Ages called The Harrowing of Hell.
It is also commemorated in the ancient tradition of the Apostles' Creed: Christ "Suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, died and was buried: He descended into hell: The third day he rose again from the dead."
Then the Host's precise recollection--"Harrow, by nails and by blood"--recalls His harrowing of hell, as a consequence of being crucified.
To state the obvious, for those who would insist on the Host's words as blasphemy, we need only realize that God Himself could not use God's name in vain, nor could He blaspheme.
Next time, we will consider the Host's confrontation by the loathsome, contemptible Pilgrim Pardoner.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
The Canterbury adventure begins
The Host's position has been assured; agreements have been reached. We need to recognize, however, that individuals of high and low estate sharing accommodations and being willing to take orders from an innkeeper would never happen in the 1300s.
So, why present something that is an impossibility? One reason is a characteristic of old poetry called "signaling." This can occur when what we're told is preposterous or is a non-sequitur. It's a way for the poet to alert us: take notice!
In this instance of "signaling," the situation is preposterous. Then why is the poet claiming it took place? What does he want us to understand? The Host is portrayed as domineering. This trait, for the obvious storyline, contributes humor.
Allegory can have an entertaining comic surface which becomes difficult to set aside in order to see an inner, in this case, a spiritual meaning. Because the Host is generally accepted as a bully and a buffoon, it takes determination to see him as Christ at another level. His dominance in the underlying message fittingly illustrates Christ's omnipotence.
The poet's reason for creating this special challenge will be clear when we put the final touch on the portrait of this Host.
The night has passed, as we pick up the story. The pilgrims prepare to depart. But their departure is without details--no breakfast, no transport of possessions, no saddling of horses, no sounds or movements, no mention of weather, nor attitudes of the pilgrims. Particulars would have been simple enough to include, but are purposefully omitted.
Chaucer, in his minimal style, tells us only: In the morning, when the day began to spring / Up rose our Host, and was our cock. The Host stands in for a rooster which did the job before alarm clocks were invented.
Then the Host gathers the pilgrims "all in a flock." Did those words bring the image to your mind's eye of a shepherd with his "flock"? Non-verbalized images both inform and entertain. Taking note of what comes to our mind's eye gains a fuller experience of the poetry. We'll see this strategy again.
The group is on the road now, moving slowly. The slow pace is the one fact confided. We get to know the personalities of the pilgrims by their tales. The Host interacts with the pilgrims to link the tales one with the other. These brief interludes fascinate me. Chaucer's skill and ingenuity with multifaceted images goes far beyond the standard opinion regarding his creativity.
As the group travels, the links continue to give us clues to see the figure of Christ in this Host. We'll delve into these mini-dramas Chaucer creates.
First we'll take a wide-eyed look at the Host's offensive language. That's our topic for next week.
So, why present something that is an impossibility? One reason is a characteristic of old poetry called "signaling." This can occur when what we're told is preposterous or is a non-sequitur. It's a way for the poet to alert us: take notice!
In this instance of "signaling," the situation is preposterous. Then why is the poet claiming it took place? What does he want us to understand? The Host is portrayed as domineering. This trait, for the obvious storyline, contributes humor.
Allegory can have an entertaining comic surface which becomes difficult to set aside in order to see an inner, in this case, a spiritual meaning. Because the Host is generally accepted as a bully and a buffoon, it takes determination to see him as Christ at another level. His dominance in the underlying message fittingly illustrates Christ's omnipotence.
The poet's reason for creating this special challenge will be clear when we put the final touch on the portrait of this Host.
The night has passed, as we pick up the story. The pilgrims prepare to depart. But their departure is without details--no breakfast, no transport of possessions, no saddling of horses, no sounds or movements, no mention of weather, nor attitudes of the pilgrims. Particulars would have been simple enough to include, but are purposefully omitted.
Chaucer, in his minimal style, tells us only: In the morning, when the day began to spring / Up rose our Host, and was our cock. The Host stands in for a rooster which did the job before alarm clocks were invented.
Then the Host gathers the pilgrims "all in a flock." Did those words bring the image to your mind's eye of a shepherd with his "flock"? Non-verbalized images both inform and entertain. Taking note of what comes to our mind's eye gains a fuller experience of the poetry. We'll see this strategy again.
The group is on the road now, moving slowly. The slow pace is the one fact confided. We get to know the personalities of the pilgrims by their tales. The Host interacts with the pilgrims to link the tales one with the other. These brief interludes fascinate me. Chaucer's skill and ingenuity with multifaceted images goes far beyond the standard opinion regarding his creativity.
As the group travels, the links continue to give us clues to see the figure of Christ in this Host. We'll delve into these mini-dramas Chaucer creates.
First we'll take a wide-eyed look at the Host's offensive language. That's our topic for next week.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
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.
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