Did the Bible play a more prominent role in the life of the community at Wearmouth-Jarrow than at other contemporary English monasteries?
The Bible was hugely valued at all early medieval English monasteries: it was the authoritative and sacred source of divine truth and the central text of all monastic worship. However, the ways in which Wearmouth-Jarrow used Scripture in worship, education, and the production of pandects, reveal an atypical approach to the Bible, one focused around reconstructing the original texts of Scripture as first experienced by mankind; in these three areas, Wearmouth-Jarrow believed themselves to be undertaking an important role in uncovering the many depths of meaning in the Bible. Their Biblical study was focused towards reaching a more accurate translation of the Bible and this was quite exceptional among contemporary English monasteries.
Worship at Wearmouth-Jarrow
The primary way in which the community at Wearmouth-Jarrow experienced the Bible was aurally. The monks would hear the Bible read aloud in liturgy multiple times a day and they would memorize and internalize its words. This was not a text which was read and studied in the way modern readers study academic books. In monastic communities, scripture was felt and experienced in a personal sense. This can be seen in the lectio divina practiced at monastic communities: meditation, contemplation and prayer of Scripture which affected a spiritual presence within the monks. In this way, the intimate relationship between Wearmouth-Jarrow’s monks and the Bible was typical of that of contemporary English monastic communities too.
Graham argued that we need to be aware of our own limitations in understanding this way in which Scripture was experienced: ‘It is a vastly different thing to read and revere a text as an authoritative document than to internalize it in memory and mediation until it permeates the sensual as well as the intellectual sphere of consciousness.’ By applying this to Wearmouth-Jarrow, we can better grasp what the community meant by the ‘Bible’; it was not only a written text but one which was meant to be heard at multiple times of the day.
Moreover, the Bible had a spiritual power over those who heard it read; it played an active role within the life of the community. When Job was read to Benedict Biscop on his deathbed, Bede stated that it allowed him to ‘be lifted up to higher things’ and likewise, on Sicgfrith’s deathbed the gospel was read to him ‘as a means of easing his pain’. Furthermore, Bede and the anonymous author of the Life of Ceolfrith both record that when a plague at Jarrow caused only Ceolfrith and a small boy to remain at the monastery, Ceolfrith ordered for the usual liturgy to be altered slightly, but this caused so much distress that he ‘decreed that the course of the psalms with their antiphons should be restored according to the usual practice’. The use of Scripture in worship was so valued that Ceolfrith could not bear to go without it, even temporarily. Bede also stated in one of his homilies: ‘The reading of the holy gospel which we have heard proclaims to us the source of our redemption’.
In all of these cases, the spoken Bible is key and has a powerful spiritual effect on the listeners. The reading of the Bible at Wearmouth-Jarrow caused ‘a religious experience’ in the listeners. When Ceolfrith left the monastery, his biographer records that he ‘sang the psalter of David in order three times a day, increasing his long-standing habit of many years of singing through the psalter twice a day’ and this is followed by a sentence on how he offered the Eucharist daily; thus, the Eucharist and reciting the Psalter were seen as parallels to some degree, because they both enabled monks to become spiritually close to God.
Of course, the Bible was valued in this way at contemporary English monasteries too: they all celebrated a liturgy and antiphons which enabled them to experience the Bible primarily aurally. It would not be fair to claim the Bible had a more prominent role in this respect at Wearmouth-Jarrow compared to contemporary English monasteries. However, we can discern that Wearmouth-Jarrow used the Bible in worship in some distinct ways and this is worth exploring further.
Notably, Benedict Biscop brought from Rome back to Wearmouth-Jarrow John, the ‘head of singing at the church of the blessed apostle Peter’ so that ‘he might teach the monks of his monastery the mode of chanting throughout the year as it was practised at St Peter’s in Rome.’ This resulted in more advanced singing at Wearmouth-Jarrow than elsewhere, because Bede records that ‘all who had any skill in singing flocked in from almost all the monasteries in the kingdom to hear him, and he had many invitations to speak elsewhere.’ This is indicative of how Wearmouth-Jarrow was particularly focused on recreating the Roman liturgy, including how the Roman liturgy used Scripture. Smart pointed out that this can also be seen when Ceolfrid enacted ‘a pilgrimage through his own monastery’ on the morning he left, which drew parallels to the stational liturgy of Rome.
This Roman Office is particularly distinctive for its recitation of 150 psalms within one week: ‘the Roman Office often has more psalms than does RB [the Rule of St Benedict].’ We cannot necessarily link this to Wearmouth-Jarrow, but given John the Archchantor ‘committed to writing all things necessary for the celebration of festal days throughout the whole year’ , Billett argued that ‘it is probably safe to assume that the distribution of psalms and canticles throughout the week followed the pattern used in St. Peter’s in Rome.’ In which case, Wearmouth Jarrow chose a liturgy with a higher focus on the use of the Bible than the alternative liturgical models.
We are limited in our ability to compare this to liturgies at other Anglo-Saxon monasteries: there are no complete canon books remaining from this period, and it is clear that there was a variety of worship present in early Anglo-Saxon monasteries. However, Wearmouth-Jarrow, the ‘flagship of Roman liturgy,’ was exceptional in attempting to recreate the Roman Office to such a large extent. Although Bishop Acca brought the musician Maban to Hexham to teach the community singing, this is still quite unlike Benedict Biscop’s achievement of bringing a musician directly from Rome. In which case, we can see that the community at Wearmouth-Jarrow was somewhat distinctive in its treatment of the Bible at worship, and furthermore, we must keep in mind that for Wearmouth-Jarrow the Bible was fulfilling primarily a spiritual role, rather than an academic one.
Education at Wearmouth-Jarrow
The Bible was also used at English monasteries as a means of educating their novices and monks. Wearmouth-Jarrow was an important hub of Biblical studies, and in part this was due to its available resources. Benedict Biscop, when founding the monastery, had brought back from Rome ‘a countless number of books of every sort’, and Ceolfrith furthered this by doubling ‘in size the libraries of both monasteries.’ Lapidge noted that this was probably the largest library in England at the time, with more than two hundred volumes. Significantly, Lapidge pointed out the ‘functionality’ of the library: ‘the principle purposes for which libraries were assembled was the interpretation of Scripture and the regulation of the Church.’ As McNally noted, ‘all monastic education…was directed towards understanding the Holy Scriptures.’
This type of study meant that Wearmouth-Jarrow saw the Bible not only as an inspired document (as other monasteries did) but also as a literary text which they could analyse and even improve upon grammatically. It is remarkable that, given the number of monasteries in Anglo-Saxon England, commentaries such as Bede’s are relatively sparse, and this suggests that the type of Scriptural study pursued at Wearmouth-Jarrow was atypical. This can also be seen in the selection of Sigfrith as abbot, which took into consideration that he was ‘very learned in the Scriptures and specially devoted to their study,’ thus Biblical knowledge was important in any potential abbot of Wearmouth-Jarrow.
Therefore, the culture and commitment of the monastery, as well as the resources, facilitated this type of Biblical study. When Bede uses the term ‘scriptura’ in his works, he often uses ‘erudito’ along with it: Eadberht, Egbert, and King Aldfrith, among many others, are described as ‘learned in the scriptures,’ thus, Bede’s use of the word shows he saw the Bible and academic study as closely linked. Bede’s own biblical studies were clearly advanced: his Scriptural quotations in his Life of St Cuthbert were mostly not from the Vulgate. The fact that Bede chose to use different texts as and when he thought was best reveals an intellectual confidence regarding Biblical studies at Wearmouth-Jarrow, which other monasteries did not possess: the anonymous author of the Life of St Cuthbert relies on the Vulgate for Scriptural quotations.
Wearmouth-Jarrow’s educational programme was quite exceptional, however Canterbury also shared this higher degree of learning. Bede described Theodore and Hadrian as ‘extremely learned in sacred and secular literature’, and he wrote that Albinus, Theodore’s pupil ‘was so well versed in scriptural studies that he had no small knowledge of the Greek language’. Furthermore, it is said that when Theodore arrived ‘the English churches began to receive instruction in the study of the Holy Scriptures’ , suggesting that before this point, the English church had not written Biblical commentaries or looked at the Bible in its original languages.
Aldhelm, who studied at Canterbury, is representative of this special type of learning. Bede praised Aldhelm as ‘remarkable for his erudition in both ecclesiastical and general studies’, and Lapidge pointed out that Æthilwald’s letter to Aldhelm presents him as a teacher of Biblical exegesis, ‘imbued…both of secular (literature) produced with the fluency of verbal eloquence, as well as of the spiritual corpus.’ Aldhelm’s own works also suggest he was analysing Scripture, looking for multiple levels of meanings in it, and even applying secular educational techniques (such as grammar and rhetoric) to the Bible – these draw parallels with the type of study being undertaken at Wearmouth-Jarrow. Aldhelm wrote that in Britain there are scholars who are ‘able to unlock and unravel the murky mysteries of the heavenly library,’ reiterating the view held at Wearmouth-Jarrow that Scripture needed to be studied in this academic way before we can understand its depths.
Aldhelm took this particular view of learning with him to Malmesbury when he became abbot there: Lapidge estimated there were more than one hundred volumes in the library at Malmesbury, clearly indicating an interest in Biblical studies. However, the source of this academic prowess was, as Aldhelm admits, Canterbury: he regarded all past labour on computation as being of little value once he began to study the subject at Canterbury. Thus, we can place Canterbury alongside Wearmouth-Jarrow as promoting a particular type of study of Scripture; they both wanted to access multiple levels of the Bible, and they compared multiple translations of the Bible in order to reach the best version.
Whitby could also potentially be placed alongside Wearmouth-Jarrow and Canterbury as an educational centre. Hunter Blair argued that ‘during the middle years of the seventh century, Whitby was unquestionably the pre-eminent centre of learning in Anglo-Saxon England’, and he highlighted the number of bishops who had been trained at Whitby (five) and the significance of the choice of location for the Synod of Whitby. Hild did indeed encourage ‘the study of holy Scriptures…that there may be no difficulty in finding many there who were fitted for holy orders.’ However, this sentence suggests that Biblical study at Whitby was undertaken with the practical purpose of producing bishops, rather than Biblical study in order to reconstruct the original text of the Bible, as was undertaken at Wearmouth-Jarrow. Thus, Whitby did not place the same emphasis on the Bible as Wearmouth-Jarrow and Canterbury. Actually, the monk Oftfor wanted to ‘reach greater heights’ in Biblical study, so he left Hild’s monasteries for Kent instead, and Lapidge noted that ‘no surviving manuscript has ever been attributed to the library of Whitby,’ implying that this type of study of Scripture was conducted at Canterbury, and not Whitby. Smaller monasteries such as Whitby were not producing the Biblical commentaries which Wearmouth-Jarrow and Canterbury were.
Barking Abbey also encouraged Biblical studies: Aldhelm praises the nuns there for ‘roaming widely through the flowering fields of scripture’ and ‘scrutinizing with careful application the hidden mysteries of the ancient laws miraculously drawn up by [Moses]’. Watt argued that under Hildeth, ‘Barking was a center of a specifically literary culture’ as can be seen in Aldhelm’s praise of the nuns at Barking in his prose De Virginitate, and Boniface’s letter of c.716 which confirmed ‘Hildelith was part of Boniface’s textual community’. The level of Latin must have been high at Barking for the community to be able to read Aldhelm’s De Virginitate. However, since Aldhelm was writing at the commission of Barking Abbey, we cannot place full credence on his praise for Barking. More significantly, so few texts survive which attest to the learning of Barking (Watt only names three), which contrasts to the huge number of witnesses to the scale and type of learning at Wearmouth-Jarrow that Barking Abbey’s study of Scripture was qualitatively different from that of Wearmouth-Jarrow.
The prominent place given to Biblical studies at Wearmouth-Jarrow shows that the monastery saw itself as fulfilling a valuable and necessary role by uncovering the deeper secrets of Scripture. In a homily, Bede argued that, just as the shepherds of the Nativity told others about Jesus, in the same way, ‘spiritual pastors in the Church are appointed especially for this, that they…show to their listeners that the marvels which they have learned in the scriptures are to be marvelled at.’ Bede then addressed his audience directly, as spiritual pastors who should ‘nourish them [the flock] with the heavenly pastures of the scriptures.’ This homily is hugely important in revealing that the monks at Wearmouth-Jarrow gave themselves an important role in the task of deciphering the different layers of Scripture. They saw themselves as spiritual pastors who were fulfilling the same role as the shepherds did in proclaiming Christ: their very own identity was derived from their ability to reach profound levels of meaning of Scripture.
Thacker argued that Bede envisaged the monks of his monastery would become ‘an élite pastoral force’ in order to ‘have an impact outside the religious communities,’ despite not being ordained. This model preaching was based upon the Bible, and so Biblical study was of the utmost importance. The Bible was ‘a sourcebook of morality,’ (such as Job, an ‘example of patience,’ or ‘the example of the Hebrew people’ ) and had practical consequences for the Church (such as the date of Easter ). Thus, the monks of Wearmouth-Jarrow saw themselves as discerning the practical implications of the Bible and conveying them to their local community.
Therefore, Wearmouth-Jarrow, Canterbury and to an extent Malmesbury were exceptional and atypical in their Biblical studies, with which the smaller monasteries such as Ripon, Hexham, Whitby and Barking were not engaging.
The Pandects of Wearmouth-Jarrow
The final way in which we can see how Wearmouth-Jarrow treated the Bible is by considering the three pandects which they made. Both Bede and the anonymous author of the Life of Ceolfrith recorded that Ceolfrith commissioned Wearmouth-Jarrow to produce three pandects, complete single-volume texts of the Bible. One was created in order to be sent as one of the gifts to Pope Gregory II of ‘tokens of my sure devotion.’ This pandect, the Codex Amiatinus, remains in its entirety today, and is similar enough to the fragments of the two other pandects that we can assume that the three pandects were similar.
While gospel books were produced in England at this time, there is no evidence of the production of pandects in England other than those of Wearmouth-Jarrow, thus the pandects themselves would have been rare. Gameson illustrated that the cost of the pandects was not exorbitant considering the size and wealth of Wearmouth-Jarrow, however the production of three pandects would have required much manpower and a lengthy commitment of around a decade, showing it was undeniably a significant project of the monks of Wearmouth-Jarrow. Indeed, the fact that Ceolfrith believed that one of the pandects was a worthy gift to be sent to the Pope illustrates that each of the pandects was an impressive and valued object.
The function of the two pandects remaining at Wearmouth-Jarrow was a practical one for the community: ‘so that it was easy for all who wanted to read a chapter of both testaments to find what they desired’. The monks of Wearmouth-Jarrow believed that their pandects could help their Christian readers, and Beall’s examination of the canon tables also reveals that they too were intended to be functional. These features would have been helpful for readers of the pandects, and they serve as mirrors for what the monks at Wearmouth-Jarrow thought was key about the Bible.
The way in which the monks of Wearmouth-Jarrow amended the text of the Bible reveals their belief that they could correct errors in Scripture. We have already explored how the community of Wearmouth-Jarrow saw itself as playing an important role in revealing the hidden mysteries of Scripture through the monks’ advanced Biblical study. We can also hypothesize that the monks of Wearmouth-Jarrow included in this mission the role of reaching a more accurate translation of the Bible.
The Codex Grandior, the pandect produced by Cassiodorus at Vivarium, was the model used by Wearmouth-Jarrow for their pandects, having been brought to Northumbria by Benedict Biscop. The artwork or canon tables, for instance, show the similarities between the Codex Grandior and the pandects of Wearmouth-Jarrow. This makes it even more remarkable that Wearmouth-Jarrow’s pandects did not use the same translation of the Bible as the Codex Grandior. As Brown noted, ‘the editors/makers of the Codex Amiatinus did not use the Hexapleric text of the Codex Grandior, but substituted a primarily Vulgate version of the text.’ Thus the monks of Wearmouth-Jarrow used their language skills in order to produce ‘a copy of the blessed priest Jerome’s translation from the Hebrew and Greek originals’. The corrections involved changing the tenses of verbs and simplifying phrases. The edits were likely to have been made ‘in several phases – and perhaps over an extended period.’ The final text of the Codex Amiatinus is a remarkably high quality text, so much so that Brown noted that when the Vulgate was being printed after the Council of Trent, scholars used the Codex Amiatinus (along with the Lindisfarne Gospels) as ‘the best early representatives of Jerome’s Vulgate.’ Likewise, Wearmouth-Jarrow corrected Cassiodorus’s list of the order of the books, for instance, by following ‘Augustine’s order of minor prophets before major prophets.’
This level of detail which has been given to the Codex Amiatinus reveals more than the care taken to produce the pandects. It also shows that Wearmouth-Jarrow believed that it was important to reach a thoroughly accurate text of the Bible. Ogilvy stated that the monks of Northumbria had ‘the scholarly frame of mind; attention to the purity of texts, concern for the accuracy of sources, the love of learning.’
Contrasting the pandects to contemporary gospel books further demonstrates the atypical nature of Wearmouth-Jarrow’s Biblical studies. The Lindisfarne Gospels were made c.715-20 in Northumbria, and the textual affinities between the Lindisfarne Gospels and the Codex Amiatinus are sufficiently apparent in order to be able to make a link between the two. Lindisfarne and Wearmouth-Jarrow both likely used the same southern Italian gospel book as one of their sources, and they both used these sources as ‘part of a creative process, rather than one of straight copying.’
There are, however, a few ways in which they differ: for one, the scale of the two tasks are of course immensely different. The Lindisfarne Gospels were likely to have been the work of one scribe, whereas the Codex Amiatinus reveals at least seven different scribes contributed to it; it is the work of an entire community and reflects the culture of the whole community, rather than one individual.
More significantly, the Lindisfarne Gospels appear to have been created primarily in the context of Cuthbert’s cult, in order to be displayed publicly at his shrine or on an altar so that the cult would gain traction. This draws some parallels to ‘cult items such as the Book of Durrow and the Book of Kells [which] served a similar symbolic and protective function for Columba’s cult,’ or the Gospel book produced at Ripon for Wilfrid’s cult. In contrast, the pandects of Wearmouth-Jarrow appeared to have been created as practical books; of course the pandects still had a ‘sacred’ status, but they also served another function, in order to provide an accurate version of the text of the Bible, which Wearmouth-Jarrow would have seen as important for them qua Christians to have access to.
Thus, the pandects of Wearmouth-Jarrow are quite distinct from their closest equivalents because they treat the text of the Bible in a different way. The whole community was intellectually engaged with the production of the pandects, such as in the temple image, which then influenced Bede’s commentaries, as O’Brien pointed out. Parkes stated that ‘the manuscripts of the Wearmouth-Jarrow scriptorium are atypical of the early Anglo-Saxon period because the monastery of Wearmouth-Jarrow was itself atypical’ , and this can be easily applied to their pandects too: the pandects of Wearmouth-Jarrow were unlike their nearest equivalents, because Wearmouth-Jarrow had a distinctive approach to the Bible, and the Bible took on a different role there compared to in contemporary English monasteries.
Finally, it is worthwhile exploring the image of Ezra in the Codex Amiatinus, which shows a figure studying in front of a bookcase of nine books – the figure is described as a pontifex, a Jewish high priest. It is likely that the image was copied from the Codex Grandior, along with other images including that of the temple. However, there is some debate as to who the image is of, and whether it was developed at Wearmouth-Jarrow. Bruce-Mitford argued that the entire image, including the features of the high priest, ‘are original features, not later editions,’ and the image represented Cassiodorus himself: the nine volumes in the bookcase represent Cassiodorus’ nine volumes of the Bible, the Novem Codices, which he refers to in his Institutiones. In contrast, Perette argued that the image was originally of Ezra, who was said in 4 Ezra to have restored the Bible after it had been destroyed, and that Wearmouth-Jarrow added in the nine volumes of books to represent the Novem Codices; the miniature ‘acknowledges the source of the concept and opening material.’
Both of these arguments have merit, but both assume that the miniature had only one purpose and was meant to represent one particular person. The nine volumes do point to Cassiodorus’ Novem Codices, but the inscription above the text claims it refers to Ezra, and we have no reason to limit who the figure is meant to be representing. Brown’s approach is more convincing, that ‘the figure is simultaneously Ezra, the evangelists, Cassiodorus, Ceolfrith, Bede and their brethren, and everyone involved in the ongoing transmission of the word.’ We can go further than this, however, and see that the miniature further displays the attitude towards Scripture that we have already encountered at Wearmouth-Jarrow: that Scripture was sacred, but it was also subject to correction and improvement by those who were educated and had the resources to do so.
Conclusion
In each of the three areas explored, Wearmouth-Jarrow has been exceptional in its treatment of the Bible, and only Canterbury can be seen as having given the Bible the same prominent role as Wearmouth-Jarrow did. Of course, contemporary English monasteries also took great care over the Bible and studied it in order to elicit meaning from it. However, Wearmouth-Jarrow and Canterbury were undertaking this task in a qualitatively different way; they were going much further than the norm in order to analyse Scripture, and in this way, it is fair to argue that the Bible did have a more prominent role at those monasteries. The Biblical work of Wearmouth-Jarrow strove to reach a higher level of Scripture, and the monastery fostered an atypical intellectual environment. Wearmouth-Jarrow was forward-looking in the sense that it pushed the boundaries of contemporary Biblical studies, and outward-looking in the sense that it wanted to share this Biblical knowledge with those outside the monastery, whether through pandects or Biblical commentaries. Bede, whilst being an extraordinary scholar, undoubtedly must have been profoundly influenced by this special approach to the Bible.