The Great Schism, 1378–1417

Even as war and disease threatened Europeans’ material and physical well-being, a crisis in the church, precipitated by a scandal in the papacy, tore at their spiritual life. The move of the papacy from Rome to Avignon in 1309 had caused an outcry, and some critics, such as Marsilius of Padua, became disillusioned with the institution of the papacy itself. In The Defender of the Peace (1324), Marsilius argued that the source of all power lay with the people: Christians themselves formed the church; the pope should be elected by a general council representing all Christians.

William of Ockham (c. 1285–1349), an English Franciscan, was an even more thoroughgoing critic of the papacy. Not only did he believe that church power derived from the congregation of the faithful, but he rejected the confident synthesis of Christian doctrine and Aristotelian philosophy made by Thomas Aquinas. William argued that universal concepts, such as “human being,” had no reality in nature but instead existed only as representations, mere names in the mind—a philosophy that came to be called nominalism. The principle that simple explanations were superior to complex ones became known as Ockham’s razor (to suggest the idea of shaving away unnecessary hypotheses).

Stung by his critics, Pope Gregory XI (r. 1370–1378) left Avignon to return to Rome in 1377. The scandal of the Avignon papacy seemed to be over. Glad to have the papacy back, the Romans were determined never to lose it again. But when the cardinals chose an Italian (who took the name Urban VI), he immediately exalted the power of the pope and began to reduce the cardinals’ wealth and privileges. The cardinals from France decided that they had made a big mistake. Many left Rome for a meeting at Anagni, where they claimed that Urban’s election had been irregular and called on him to resign. When he refused, they elected a Frenchman as pope; he took the name Clement VII and soon moved his papal court to Avignon, but not before he and Urban had excommunicated each other. The Great Schism (1378–1417), which split the loyalties of all of Europe, had begun.

The king of France supported Clement; the king of England favored Urban. Some European states lined up on the side of France, while others supported Urban. Each pope declared that those who followed the other were to be deprived of the rights of church membership; in effect, everyone in Europe was excommunicated by one pope or the other. Church law said that only a pope could summon a general council of the church. But given the state of confusion in Christendom, many intellectuals argued that the crisis justified calling a general council to represent the body of the faithful, even against the wishes of an unwilling pope—or popes. They spearheaded the conciliar movement—a movement to have the cardinals or the emperor call a council.

In 1408, long after Urban and Clement had passed away and new popes had followed, the conciliar movement succeeded when cardinals from both sides met and declared their resolve “to pursue the union of the Church . . . by way of abdication of both papal contenders.” With support from both England and France, the cardinals called for a council to be held at Pisa in 1409. Both popes refused to attend, and the council deposed them, electing a new pope.

But the “deposed” popes refused to budge, even though most of the European powers abandoned them. There were now three popes. The successor of the newest one, John XXIII, turned to the emperor to arrange for another council.

The Council of Constance (1414–1418) met to resolve the papal crisis as well as to institute church reforms. The delegates deposed John XXIII and accepted the resignation of the pope at Rome. After long negotiations with rulers still supporting the Avignon pope, all allegiance to him was withdrawn and he was deposed. The council then elected Martin V, whom every important ruler of Europe recognized as pope. Finally, the Great Schism had come to an end.

Nevertheless, the schism had worked changes in the religious sensibilities of Europeans. Worried about the salvation of their souls now that the church was fractured by multiple popes, pious men and women eagerly sought new forms of religious solace. The church offered the plenary indulgence—full forgiveness of sins, which had been originally offered to crusaders who died while fighting for the cause—to those who made a pilgrimage to Rome and other designated holy places during declared Holy Years. People could wipe away their sins through confession and contrition, but they retained some guilt that they could remove only through good deeds or in purgatory. The idea of purgatory—the place where sins were fully purged—took precise form at this time, and with it indulgences became popular. These remissions of sin were offered for good works to reduce the time in purgatory.

Both clergy and laity became more interested than ever in the education of young people as a way to deepen their faith and spiritual life. The Brethren of the Common Life—laypeople, mainly in the Low Countries (the region comprising today’s Belgium, Luxembourg, and the Netherlands), who devoted themselves to pious works—set up a model school at Deventer. In Italy, humanists (see “Renaissance Humanism”), emphasized primary school education. Priests were expected to teach the faithful the basics of the Christian religion.

Home was equally a place for devotion. Portable images of Mary, the mother of God, and of the life and passion of Christ proliferated. Ordinary Christians contemplated them at convenient moments throughout the day. People purchased or commissioned copies of Books of Hours, which contained prayers to be said at the same hours of the day that monks chanted their liturgy. Books of Hours included calendars, sometimes splendidly illustrated with depictions of the seasons and labors of the year. Other illustrations reminded their users of the life and suffering of Christ.

On the streets of towns, priests marched in dignified processions, carrying the sanctified bread of the Mass—the very body of Christ—in tall and splendid monstrances that trumpeted the importance and dignity of the Eucharistic wafer. The image of a bleeding, crucified Christ was repeated over and over in depictions of the day. Viewers were meant to think about Christ’s pain and feel it themselves, mentally participating in his death on the cross.

Religious anxieties, intellectual dissent, and social unrest combined to create new heretical movements in England and Bohemia. In England were the Lollards, a term that was derogatory in the hands of their opponents and yet a proud title when used by the Lollards themselves. Inspired by the Oxford scholar John Wycliffe (c. 1330–1384), who taught that the true church was the community of believers rather than the clerical hierarchy, Lollards emphasized Bible reading in the vernacular. Although suffering widespread hostility and persecution into the sixteenth century, the Lollards were extremely active, setting up schools for children (girls as well as boys), translating the Bible from Latin into English, preaching numerous sermons, and inspiring new recruits.

On the other side of Europe were the Bohemian Hussites—named after one of their leaders, Jan Hus (1372?–1415), an admirer of Wycliffe. When priests celebrated Mass, they had the privilege of drinking the wine (the blood of Christ); the faithful received only the bread (the body). The Hussites, who were largely Czech laity, wanted the privilege of drinking the wine as well and, with it, recognition of their dignity and worth. Their demand brought together several passionately held desires and beliefs: it reflected a focus on the redemptive power of Christ’s blood. Furthermore, the call for communion with both bread and wine signified a desire for equality. Bohemia was an exceptionally divided country, with an urban German-speaking elite, including merchants, artisans, bishops, and scholars, and a Czech-speaking nobility and peasantry that was beginning to seek better opportunities. (Hus himself was a Czech of peasant stock who became a professor at the University of Prague.)

The Bohemian nobility protected Hus after the church condemned him as a heretic, but the Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund lured him to the Council of Constance, promising him safe conduct. Nevertheless, Hus was arrested when he arrived. When he refused to recant his views, the church leaders burned him at the stake.

Hus’s death caused an uproar, and his movement became a full-scale national revolt of Czechs against Germans. Sigismund called crusades against the Hussites, but all of his expeditions were soundly defeated. Radical groups of Hussites organized several new communities in southern Bohemia, attempting to live according to the example of the first apostles. They recognized no lord, gave women some political rights, and created a simple liturgy that was carried out in the Czech language. Negotiations with Sigismund and his successor led to the Hussites’ incorporation into the Bohemian political system by 1450. Though the Hussites were largely marginalized, they had won the right to receive communion in “both kinds” (wine and bread) and they had made Bohemia intensely aware of its Czech, rather than German, identity.