may be avoided through the mere purchase of a pardon.
The “wanton preaching of pardons,” Luther postulated, made it difficult even for learned men to defend the pope from “calumnious charges or even from the shrewd questioning of the laity.” During the previous three centuries, church councils, individual theologians, and indeed individual popes had felt the strain of defending a system which was, in certain respects at least, well-nigh indefensible. One did not have to be a Lollard or a Luther to be troubled deeply by the exchange of earthly profit for spiritual, to feel the tension between the relatively trivial preoccupations of Christ’s church on earth—no matter how worthy certain projects funded by indulgences could be—and the holy mystery of human redemption together with the inexpressible glory of the heavenly Jerusalem. Was the principle of vicarious satisfaction really secure? Did wealthy people have an unfair advantage? Could they buy their way out of purgatory, while the poor (as on earth) had to suffer and endure for their allotted time? Did the indulgence-system not bring the church into disrepute, and how could one answer those who found it ridiculous or laughable? All those questions, and more, were confronted by the major theologians of the later Middle Ages. There was a widespread recognition of the gulf between abstract justification of the doctrinal issues, and the semi-comprehensions of the humble priests who were obliged to explain the complicated system to layfolk. To their credit, the schoolmen are aware of the communication gap. And yet, they seem powerless to do anything about it.
Marketing the Divine Mercy
Over and over again, the deeply disturbing thought presented itself to medieval theologians: were the makers and distributors of indulgences engaged in some sort of market economy, which demeaned the whole notion of posthumous reward and punishment by confusing earthly with heavenly matters, and, worse, created the impression that salvation was up for sale? Albert the Great, among many others, worried about the spiritual arithmetic—it seemed as if an enterprising sinner could get a great deal for a mere obolus (meaning a very small monetary unit, and hereafter translated as “halfpenny”): “Let us suppose that a fast of seven years was injoined on someone, and that he comes on one day seven times to a church which has from the pope the power of granting an indulgence of one year, and each time he makes an offering of a half-penny. Therefore that man is absolved on one day, for seven half-pennies, from the seven years of penance justly injoined upon him! It would be amazing if even infidels did not laugh at this state of affairs.”196 The point of that last sentence seems to be that, if even infidels can laugh this situation, how much more ridiculous must it seem to believers. Albert’s answer is that “there is no delusion in the truth.” It is not simply a matter of the church receiving a meager offering, “as those mockers believe.”197 The sinner’s own means and spiritual situation must be considered, along with the powers of the Church.
William of Auvergne employs the same monetary metaphor, in reporting the ridicule of those who say that, for a single penny, halfpenny, or even an egg given to a church, a man might obtain remission of a third of the penance which had been imposed on him. Thus it seems that God is defrauded, for two years of penance are commuted with the paltry offering of one egg or halfpenny.198 Furthermore, long and severe penances can be bought off with little effort and lightly, a penny or halfpenny being reckoned as equal to a third part of remission and penance. Those who hold such stupid opinions think that divine grace is being made venal. No matter how gravely men sin, they can obtain remission in a way which is facile and ridiculous, the gift of three pennies being put on a par with pilgrimage to Jerusalem or any other major undertaking against the enemies of the faith. People would be crazy to endure long penances and laborious pilgrimages, when they could get the same result with three eggs or three halfpennies! William counters this stultitia opinionis with the argument that venality is not involved since the prelate who gives an indulgence of the type under discussion is acting not for money but for the honor of God and the benefit of souls. A church is built not on account of money (propter pecunia) but by money (per pecuniam), and without money the building could not be undertaken. Similarly, an indulgence is issued not for money but solely for the glory of God, although money is not absent from the transaction. William proceeds to offer a comparison with the sacrament of baptism. Here remission of sins is achieved not for water (pro aqua) but by water (per aquam) and not without water (non sine aquam). Just so, indulgences function not on account of money (non pro pecuniam) but by money (per pecuniam) and not without money (non sine pecuniam).199 As for the concern that one and the same price or cost (pretio) will pay for both major and minor penances: people who talk in that way reveal their ignorance of the strength (virtus) of God and the power of the keys. For, just as a greater remission of sin is not gained by the person who has been baptized with more rather than less water, so the person who offers more money does not have greater remission than the person who offers less. And this is so because, just as in baptism remission comes not from water but from divine virtus, so in the case of indulgences remission comes not from the giving or from the gift but from the keys and the ministration of prelates. William proceeds to argue that prelates are perfectly entitled to augment or diminish the satisfaction due for the sins which a penitent has acknowledged in confession.
But, could the sale of indulgences not be regarded as a kind of simony, which is to be understood as the exchange of a spiritual for a temporal thing? Thomas Aquinas asserts that indulgences are granted not “for the sake of temporal matters as such, but in so far as they are subordinate to spiritual things,” such as the suppression of the Church’s enemies, “the building of a church, of a bridge, and other forms of almsgiving.” Therefore, “there is no simony in these transactions, since a spiritual thing is exchanged, not for a temporal but for a spiritual commodity.”200 Albert the Great also answers with a firm negative: what we are dealing with here is not a mere purchase of some commodity but rather an exercise of the bounty of the Church, which encourages her children to good.201
There was some discussion of the actual sources of that bounty, the exact constitution of the spiritual treasury. The Alexandri summa focuses on the merits of the united Church and of its head, who is Christ;202 Albert the Great says that it comprises the wealth of the merits and the passion of Christ, and of the glorious Virgin Mary, and all the apostles, martyrs, and saints both living and dead.203 Thomas Aquinas initially emphasizes the unity of the “mystical body in which many have performed works of satisfaction exceeding the requirements of their debts,” and hence much surplus merit is available to those who are in need of it, but the preeminent source is soon identified as the merits of Christ, who acts through His sacraments yet is in no way obliged to operate exclusively through them. “So great is the quantity of such merits that it exceeds the entire debt of punishment due to those who are living at this moment”—there is no danger whatever, it would seem, of those vast resources running out.204 An even more eloquent affirmation of the merits of Christ is found in the papal bull which at last (as late as 1343) proclaimed as dogma the existence of an infinite treasury of merits, Clement VI’s Unigenitus. “Christ shed of His blood not merely a drop, though this would have sufficed . . . to redeem the whole human race, but a copious torrent,” thereby “laying up an infinite treasure for mankind. This treasure He neither wrapped up in a napkin nor hid in a field, but entrusted to Blessed Peter, the key-bearer, and his successors, that they might, for just and reasonable causes, distribute it to the faithful in full or in partial remission of the temporal punishment due to sin.”205 Powerful words, which express well the emotive force of the foundational theology of indulgences, the strength of its confidence in the bottomless depths of divine love.
But what was a “just and reasonable cause”? Albert the Great suggested that the cause moving the maker of an indulgence should be not private but public (non privata, sed publica). There are two types of public cause, he explains, which involve legitimate exigency (necessitas) and public advantage (utilitas) respectively.206 Examples of the former include the liberation of the Holy Land and perils which threaten the faith; of the latter, relieving poverty, hearing the word of God, and visiting relics. Bonaventure compares the spiritual treasury with the treasuries of earthly kings. We see in
