It is both fitting and just that such an impressive array of feminine medieval scholars should present this “faithful and unabridged translation” of the Scivias of Hildegard of Bingen. “Fitting,” not because Hildegard was a rabid feminist in the modern sense, but because as a woman in a patriarchal age she dared to obey God “instead of men,” preaching and writing to arouse to Christian responsibility a “lukewarm and sluggish” clergy and an ill-informed people in what she called an “effeminate age.” And “just” because scholars of her own gender may best resonate with some of the struggles Hildegard faced in follower her prophetic calls, a mission that eventually won the support of her contemporary, St. Bernard, and the official endorsement of Pope Eugenius II himself.
Despite her many gifts as visionary, prophetess, writer, preacher, herbal practitioner, musician and composer, Hildegard is basically a Benedictine monastic. And what she gives us in this book is a Benedictine summa of the Christian doctrine of her time. Her stress—especially in Book III on the Virtues, particularly Fear of the Lord, Poverty of Spirit, Humility, Obedience, Chastity, Wisdom, Discretion, plus the theme of spiritual warefare—substantiates this observation.
Granted Hildegard’s fascinating personality, what is the real value of this particular book of her prophetic visions for us today? Newman’s appraisal aptly answers that question: “To students of spirituality, Hildegard remains of compelling interest . . . as a perfect embodiment of the integrated, holistic approach to God and humanity for which our fragmented era longs” (Introduction, p. 10).
Scivias, an abbreviation for “Scito vias Domini” or “Know the Ways of the Lord,” took ten years to complete, 1141–1151. Each vision begins with a brief description of the vision, followed by an interpretation or commentary invariably introduced by: “And I heard a voice from heaven saying . . .”. This voice speaks directly as if from God, who comments also on whatever Scripture passage is introduced as “proof.” Book I centers on Creation, Books II on Redemption (including the Church and sacraments), Book III presents the means of sanctification—a theology of moral life, virtues, etc., ending with the grand vision of the “Symphony of the Blessed”—a musical morality play with much human charm, plus the usual commentary. In the grand finale, Psalm 150 is paralleled with the ranks of saints to “praise the Lord”!
This edition also includes the reproductions, in black and white, of the illuminations and miniatures that accompanied the original work. Although space prohibited detailed annotations, the Introduction includes an excellent synopsis of each vision, highlighting the salient features of the symbolism, the iconography and the doctrine” (pp. 27–43).
To take but one theme that emerges again and again from these visions/commentaries “a virtuous life is the joint creation of God and humanity.” On the side of the human, emphasis is placed on the value and use of the intellect with which God has armed each one of us. We have been given “a heart to think with” (p. 126) and “where the heart is in the body, there the intellect is in the soul.” “Intellect and will are like two arms of the soul” while “the will has in the human breast a tabernacle, the mind, upon which the intellect and that same will and a sort of force of the soul all breathe in strength. And all these are activated and come together in the same tabernacle” (p. 120f). Later in Book III “a vivid intelligence” is described as the “best of treasures” given us by God, by which we are to draw profit in good works that “God, the Good Giver, may thereby be clearly known” (p. 479)—or, in other words, “That in all things, God may be glorified!” (Benedictine motto).
God on His part responds with what is variously described as “jealousy” or “Zeal,” implying not only the just judgment of a human’s sins to arouse compunction, but also the grace to do good, as shown in the speech of the Grace of God: “. . . when a person’s mind is touched by me, I am his beginning. That is to say, when a person understands my admonition with his sense of hearing and his senses consent to my touching his mind, I initiate good in him” (p. 428). And when “you act with wisdom and discretion, you feel Him in your reason” (p. 384).
All this seems to flow from the initial vision regarding the “Fall of Adam” (Bk. II, Vision I). There a white flower is offered to the human just created, which he smelled but did not take—i.e. did not “fulfill it in full blessedness by the work of his hands.” And thus “he turns away and falls into the thickest darkness . . . weighed down by sin, he could not rise to the true knowledge of God” (p. 153). Newman points out in her synopsis of this vision that “this revisionist view expressed Hildegard’s idea that the ‘knowledge of good and evil’ is God’s gift to humanity rather than the devil’s temptation” (p. 30). This would seem to imply too that the Human thereafter does not have the real power to distinguish good from evil, but rather as the visions express elsewhere, “Knowledge in Man is like a mirror in which lies latent his desire for good or evil” (p. 383). And we therefore await the touch of God’s grace to really distinguish between these two reflections within us.
Much more could be said here: the Virtues themselves could be examined at length; the two paths developed; the emphasis on monastic commitment as “vowing the way of secret regeneration” explained; and study given to the 12th century view of the Eucharist, the priesthood, the Church, etc. But this is a long book, rich in food to “ruminate” on. For “Hildegard unites vision with doctrine, religion with science, charismatic jubilation with prophetic indignation, and the longing for social order with the quest for social justice in ways that continue to challenge and inspire” (Introduction, p. 10).