Berengar of Tours

Berengar was a controversial figure of the eleventh century. He was born near the beginning of the century, and died in 1088, forming parentheses around the life and career of Hildebrand (Gregory VII). Little or nothing is written concerning his early life or lineage.

He spent most of his life in the city of Tours, France, scene of the decisive battle in 732 when Charles Martel turned back the advancing Saracens. Berengar rose to the position of director of the cathedral school. He was respected by all who knew him for his learning and his devotion to the church.

In his search for a deeper understanding of the church and his faith, he turned to the early church fathers and to the Bible. He shared with Martin Luther the determination that God’s word must have greater authority than church dogma. But he differed from Luther in many other respects. He had a higher opinion for human reason and for tradition, and he twice publicly recanted his views through fear of death. In almost every respect he was considered, even by his enemies, to be orthodox. What was the thorn, then, that caused council after council to threaten his life?

A raging controversy during this century, though overshadowed by political struggles over lay investiture, was over the nature of the eucharist. A monk by the imposing name of Paschasius Radbertus, who was both learned and superstitious, had proposed a century earlier that the bread and wine are actually transformed into the literal body and blood of Christ. This was replied to by another monk, Ratramnus, who upheld what is called the symbolical theory. Berengar searched the writings of Augustine, Jerome, and other Latin and Greek church fathers, and also studied diligently the related Scripture. He concluded that Radbertus was wrong. He said the monk’s doctrine was contrary to the Scriptures, to the fathers, and to reason. When he began to teach his discovery at the school, it caused quite a stir. He wrote letters to former pupils around Europe, and a few agreed with him. But when he wrote to Lanfranc of Bec, who had been a student with him, Lanfranc was moved to oppose him. Berengar wrote of his surprise that Lanfranc so readily agreed with Radbertus, when Scripture, Augustine, and reason upheld the opposite view. Lanfranc was living in Rome when he received the letter, so he took it before the Roman Synod held under Leo IX in 1050. This synod, and also another one six months later, both condemned Berengar. A book by Ratramnus was declared heretical and burned. Another synod was held in Tours four years later, still under Leo IX. This time Berengar was not condemned, thanks to the help of Hildebrand.

Hildebrand was the real power behind the scenes through the reigns of five popes from 1049 to 1073, after which he himself took the crown. His chief interests were political, rather than theological. The meaning of the Lord’s Supper was less important to him than the authority of the papacy. He listened sympathetically to Berengar’s explanation, and accepted his acknowledgment of the spiritual presence of Christ in the bread and wine. However, in 1059, at a synod in Rome under Nicolas II, Berengar was ordered to recant or die. He was no martyr. He sank to his knees in mock penance, and even tossed his own books into the fire.

He was filled with shame at this cowardice, but not enough to prevent its repetition. By 1078, Hildebrand had been Pope for four years. His power was consolidated, so he called Berengar back to Rome, hoping to clear his friend’s reputation. But the enmity against him was so severe that only two options were presented Berengar by the council. Either Berengar must recant absolutely, or die. Again, when faced with death, he denied his true convictions and recanted. All Gregory could do was to give him safe conduct back to France and issue a warning against any attempts on his life.

Berengar was an old man, but he felt much older because of his weakness before the council. He viewed it as an act of treason against God. He retired from public view and lived his last eight years alone on an island, hoping that God would forgive his cowardice. He died in 1088, still firm in his conviction against transubstantiation, but with no audience.