Heloise and Abelard, by Edmund Leighton, 1882

Heloise and Abelard, by Edmund Blair Leighton. 1882

 

The pur­suit of truth – intre­pid, fierce, end­less. In the face of the great­est obsta­cles. In the face of a ris­ing tide of igno­rance, big­otry and anger. Abelard and Heloise epit­o­mize the con­junc­tion of the ideal pur­suit of knowl­edge with the explo­sive com­pli­ca­tions of car­nal love. I see them both, liv­ing in the 12th cen­tury, feel­ing com­pletely out of step with their times, want­ing to change them des­per­ately. Abelard did. Heloise could have, if not for her sta­tion in life as a young woman in a seg­re­gated land.

But she changed him. He loved her mind and her body, the nexus, blood and spirit. He loved every­thing she was and said and knew. We, how­ever, are denied the pas­sion of her intel­lect as he saw it, out­side those let­ters that came later, look­ing back. The Middle Ages would have forced her to hide the incan­des­cence of her mind all too often, which impacted our abil­ity to really know her now. Why did Abelard fight against his love for her later? Why did he allow his shame and guilt to over­whelm the truth?

Far from per­fect. Far from always heroic. Though he went through some­thing that would alter the core of any human being.  He had the ulti­mate excuse. And we finally gain some com­pro­mise of sorts, some merger, some over­all dynamic encom­pass­ing his love, his doubts, his shame and guilt, and her incred­i­ble sup­port, for­give­ness, res­ig­na­tions. Her incred­i­ble loyalty …

He was a rock star in his day, before all of that was shat­tered. Students crowded around him by the hun­dreds. He used his wit, logic, and great ora­tory skills to actu­ally change philo­soph­i­cal dis­course in the France of his time. In that world, it was pos­si­ble to defeat some­one so deci­sively in pub­lic con­tests of rhetoric that the effects were sim­i­lar to our pres­i­den­tial con­tests. He did. He helped pave the way for the ascen­sion of Aristotle in the next cen­tury. Europe would never be the same.

(For an excel­lent recent study on Aristotle’s impact on the Middle Ages, see Richard E. Rubenstein’s Aristotle’s Children: How Christians, Muslims, and Jews Rediscovered Ancient Wisdom and Illuminated the Dark Ages.)

Too well known the con­se­quences of his love for Heloise. Too well known her own reduced choices. The con­vent. The son, Astrolabe. The shift into pious­ness for him. Away from the intre­pid search for truth at all costs.

Are we self­ish beyond mea­sure look­ing back, expect­ing this per­son and that per­son to never fail, to remain lib­er­ated, beyond chains, to never cave in to any pres­sures, any extreme, tragic event? Armchair judges. Scolds and nags, never sat­is­fied with even the momen­tary appear­ance of great hearts and minds. As if we would have done more … As if we would have shaken the earth for longer, made more noise, shouted we … are … free until the end of our days!!!

Feet of clay. We all have them at times. The thing is to find enough moments wherein we walk with hard soles to fill a life, or two or three.

 

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