Various groups have been called "Cathari" over the last two thousand years, but Sean Martin's book, The Cathars deals with the medieval sect which was given that name in the second half of the twelfth century, in Germany, and which flourished, briefly, in Southern France and Northern Italy a hundred years or so later. The name comes from the Greek katharos which means 'The Pure.' In France, the group were also known as the Albigenses. Doctrinally, they were similar to the Manichaeans with a pronounced Docetic influence. Basically, they were dualists who understood the world in terms of a cosmic battle between the forces of darkness and light. Their experience led them to believe that this world is governed by Satan, the ruler of darkness. They tended also to deny the ultimate reality of the world, as a mere shadow, which led them to also deny the full humanity of Jesus. Yet, those who knew them generally regarded them highly, as sincere Christians seeking moral purity. When they rejected Catholicism and came to look upon the pope as the anti-christ they found themselves in political hot water. Persecuted without mercy, first by overzealous churchmen, then in the infamous Albigensian Crusade, and finally under the Inquisition, the movement died out when all of its leaders had been burnt at the stake.
Martin's book is not at all sympathetic to the Roman Catholic Church; he makes light of serious theological error; and he fails to unravel the political forces that were at work, particularly in France. Land and property were seized from Cathars often for the most secular of reasons. Not all of the blood-letting was religiously motivated. And yet there was a great deal of blood-letting. It seems incredible, at this distance that Christians can have deceived themselves to such a degree that they were willing to use torture and violence in order to defend the Faith. It does the Church no credit to be associated with such monstrous mass-murderers as Simon de Montfort. Though the officers of the Roman Catholic Church were most to blame, even the Cathars, in the end, adopted the methodology of oppression, resorting to murder and revenge in order to get their way.
Looking back at a dark period in the history of the Church, and seeing how committed Christians could come to conclusions radically opposed to those that we would reach, makes me wonder about what we misunderstand today. No doubt there will be those who would answer that our rejection of alternative lifestyles and our opposition to global syncretistic understandings of the nature of religion are examples of violence done by Christians today. I don't think it's as simple as that. The adoption of postmodern universalism could well turn out to be far more arrogant and destructive than a straightforward defense of historic Christianity. I don't believe that exclusivism is necessarily more conducive to violence than the worldview that brings everything down to its lowest common denominator. In short, I don't think that peace is best served by forgetting differences and just saying "Why can't we all get along?" The fact that Mediaeval Catholicism went too far in defense of the Faith does not mean that we are not allowed to make any kind of defense. So, should we burn the Quran? What is served by burning copies of the Quran, beyond the creation of yet more enemies? What happened to the way of peace?
We don't need more enemies. Mutual respect does not need to be an act of compromise. Defenders of the Faith do not need to become warriors (except, perhaps, in self-defense, or more properly, in defense of the defenceless). We need to ask the Holy Spirit to open our eyes to the ways in which we have been fooled into accepting the morality of the world. And we need to change to overcome evil not with more evil but with good. Maybe then, if we stand for all that is good and noble and upright and true, a day will dawn when we are known as 'The Pure.' After all, don't we have to be pure in heart if we are to see God?
