rine which was firmly established by what may broadly be called the Clunaic reforms of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, but which has returned to be a matter of current interest and controversy today. Other Clunaic reforms, having been settled, have in a sense been forgotten. The general public today has never heard of simony or lay investiture. By contrast, priestly celebacy is debated on talk shows.
In examining the eleventh century debate over the imposition of celebate discipline on all the Western clergy, Anne Llewellyn Barstow is therefore raising questions of interest far beyond the world of medieval scholarship. Indeed, she frankly admits that her broader purpose in discussing the eleventh century imposition of celebacy is to contribute (by implication on the pro marriage side) to the contemporary discussion of celebacy in the Catholic church.
Barstow begins by tracing the history of priestly celebacy through the first ten centuries of church history. The Church asserts, and conventional histories tend to agree by silence, that celebacy was always the norm. However, the actual development of celebacy as a requirement was gradual. Celebacy has always been a valued state in Christian thought, but clergymen were not required to be celebate. Indeed, it was regarded by many as more practical for parish priests, whose lives were so closely tied to the community of their parishioners, to be married and thus less exposed to outside temptation. In fact, in the broader Abrahamic tradition, a married clergy has been the rule; so it is among the Eastern Orthodox and Anglican Churches, for Protestant pastors, for rabbis, and for mullahs.
Barstow argues that the drive towards a celebate clergy was essentially driven by monastic impulses. Other factors played a part, to be sure. By eliminating clerical marriage, for example, the papacy could eliminate legitimate heirs of priests and thus sharply redu...