I'm mad about Chaucer!

Now and then, I receive e-mail from irate Christian souls who, I assume, are relatively selective about what parts of my site they have read. They tend, unwittingly of course, to be slightly higher on the entertainment scale than even those who note only my reference to unicorns and assume my domain is New Age. (New covenant, perhaps, but hardly new age in the common parlance, whatever my addiction to aromatherapy oils and herbal medicine.) One exceedingly earnest 'sermon' scolded me severely for including the essay on Chaucer's Miller's Tale. The writer was irate that I could see humour in a story which makes light of adultery and features an astrologer. I naturally am left with puzzlement that anyone could read the Miller's tale and find it to be anything but hilarious.

I doubt that too many Internet writers who devote extensive time to Francis of Assisi, Julian of Norwich, and company are looking to promote adultery - and Chaucer's treatment of the astrologer itself hardly shows encouragement for consulting masters of that art. Still, without in any way adopting his philosophy, I somehow can understand how Swinburne, in the Victorian age which so glorified 'example' and what today would be termed 'family values,' could prefer the old gods, and sadly muse about 'Thou hast conquered, O pale Galiliean...'

The pale Galilean and I have had more than a passing acquaintance, and it probably is clear that I have rather a different attitude towards Jesus (the real one - not the androgynous goody-good who appears in some of the worst of religious art) than Swinburne's. Yet it does irk me when art and literature, which can reach magnificence in reflecting the human condition, are expected to be sanitised.

Before I proceed to my few reflections on Chaucer, I'll make one statement to protect my "Safe Surf" rating. (The few readers who know me personally probably have been dissolved in laughter since the first paragraph - whatever weaknesses I possess, I doubt too many baby boomers are more strait-laced than I in their personal behaviour.) I believe it is foolish and dangerous to ... start what one cannot finish, and it is quite a troublesome distraction in the process. Were Chaucer's writings pornographic, degrading, or even likely to push one's sexual arousal to a high point on the scale, yes, I would think they should be approached with caution. But they are not - his bawdiness is comfortable, realistic, and exceedingly funny, and I cannot imagine anyone's reading the tales of the Miller or Reeve with any reaction except laughter. The correspondent whose e-mail inspired this post is of another breed - the sort who host sites which caution parents about a harmless film which features wine glasses on a table. The human condition is of no interest - art must be sacrificed to a disinfected world where, I suppose, quiet little children spend all their time fawning over the perfection they have found in their parents. The Bible would need to be heavily censored. Any pleasure, however harmless, would be suspect - consuming a croissant would be a fault when it could have been given to the poor (though the poor must be kept at a distance.) No one, including in marriage, could have sex without dwelling on scripture verses or sacramental images a la Kingsley.

I'm mad about Chaucer - but somehow saying that is second only to admitting to a passion for Shakespeare in making me blush to think the obvious answer is 'who isn't?' His characters and use of language have a delightful richness. (I read the tales aloud, in Middle English, now and then.) Of course, the Canterbury Tales is hardly a religious work, yet Chaucer provides us with a picture of the Church that was apt and colourful - and I can testify, from my many years in religious ministry, that each of the characters still exists in abundance, even if seldom in such a clever and wry portrayal. The Miller or Reeve would be welcome to join me for an ale - but I would not care to sit next to the Pardoner. (Anyone who thinks the Pardoner is defunct has not seen the tactics that I've observed in some - don't shake your head, I said some) of those in fund raising.)

Those in the Middle Ages were no better or worse than those since, though they lived closely with the reality of pain, war, death, and the like to an extent where they, unlike some today, could not pretend that these could be avoided, or that children could be protected if they were sheltered from the knowledge of human weakness. The 'pilgrimage' itself has a hearty realism - aside from a vague hope for blessing, most of the characters are far from prettily devout, and the churchmen are worse than the miller. Judging from my Internet searches (some key word searches can lead one to the oddest sites), there are characters out there, hoisting religious banners, who cry out to be worked into a modern version of Chaucer's prologue. I do not have his gifts, of course, but shall admit that I've written one... how I wish I had the courage to post it here. I would not even mind a bit of salty language... I've read the writings of both Martin Luther and Thomas More, whose filthy mouths were at their worst when they took shots at each other, and therefore can handle anything.

And why do I not? It is not only a recognition that I am not the poet or observer of nature such as Geoffrey Chaucer was. :) It is more because, between political correctness, Freudian crap and the other amply spread pop psychology, and other sad accretions of the modern era, it is difficult to express the sense of the ridiculous. People are too quick to take offence.

Perhaps I should post the first poll on my site to ask if such a parody would be acceptable...

Are we any less ridiculous than those of other eras? Certainly not - the Church has been a ship of fools since the apostles could not 'get' the parable of the sower and were arguing about who'd sit at the Master's right hand - and the higher ups have made asses of themselves since Peter and Paul confronted one another at Antioch. I dare say that I would not need to develop caricatures, because there are many people who are caricatures in themselves. Extreme feminists who see everything as the oppression of women - 'conservatives' who write the sort of e-mail I mentioned above - visitors to the EWTN site, where all worries about moral theology seem to be on the order of 'I fear I may be getting more pleasure than I'm giving' - nut cases who think Osama bin Laden was God's instrument in taking away the US's 'veil of protection' (as far as I know, both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans still exist and have not been moved) - well, I could go on. Dare I do so? :)

I would imagine that most Christians are troubled when they first realise that they are a bit of a sham. I know it pains me - but perhaps that is my first step towards growth, since the years of Franciscan romance (a blessed thing, that!) need to give way to a bit more terra firma, lest I begin acting like a half-wit. Chaucer's characters, like ourselves, are all too genuine. Yet, where the Wife of Bath (I must write an essay on that wonderful tale) or the Miller can be honest, the cultured Prioress or the various clerks, being more schooled in things churchly, have a facade which fools none of the peasants but could indeed fool the 'actors.'

I've known some wonderful people in my years of church work - even a few, here and there, who were worthy of canonisation. (Those in that category were not at all self-absorbed, and had no idea they were special.) I may call myself a sham (as we all are), but am not denying my own genuine commitment - to do so would not only be dishonest but would deny the gratitude to the God who gave me the grace to wish to know him at all. That does not mean that we all do not have our impossible days - or that we are not capable of being major shites - or that we cannot be blinded by one goal and not see we are about to step off a cliff.

"..Absalon hath kissed her nether eye; Nicholas is branded cross the bum; and may God lead us all to Kingdom's Come."