Last month we looked at the life of Bede (c.673–735), the Anglo-Saxon historian who is best known for his Church History of the English People (Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum).
Why does this historical work – which traces the history of England from the Roman occupation to 731, the year that it was completed, as well as detailing the conversion of the Anglo-Saxon peoples – merit calling Bede a model historian?
A providential reading of history
Well, two reasons stand out. First of all, Bede read history providentially. In his view, God was at work in history. He saw his work in this regard as a continuation of what Luke the historian did in the Book of Acts.
Theologically, Bede was also deeply indebted to the theology of Augustine, the North African theologian of late antiquity. As such, he believed firmly in the sovereignty of God in both the universe and human life. History, therefore, was not simply a record of the doings of men and women, kings and commoners. It recorded also the doings of God.
Of course, we may disagree with the way that he read history. Bede was deeply concerned to stress the unity of the church throughout Western Europe and thus he was quite critical of the Celtic church that was in the British Isles when the mission of Augustine of Canterbury arrived in what later would become Kent. On two occasions Augustine met with some Welsh representatives of the churches in Wales and the meetings did not go well at all. Bede blamed the Welsh and he felt justified in doing so, because after these failed meetings, a number of these Welsh Christians from Bangor were killed at a battle that took place at Chester, thus indicating God’s displeasure with them (Church History 2.2).
While I personally think Bede read this historical incident wrongly, it would be a mistake to conclude that we should never read history providentially.
A storyteller
Then, second, one of the key reasons the English why Bede’s Church History of People has stood the test of time is because he is such a great storyteller. History is filled with tremendous stories and Bede had a marvellous ear and pen for such. For example, when the Christian faith came to the kingdom of Northumbria, the pagan king, Edwin, hesitated to accept it. He asked for advice from his senior counsellors (‘ealdormen’ in Anglo-Saxon), and one of them, according to Bede, said this:
‘The present life of man, O king, seems to me, in comparison of that time which is unknown to us, to be like the swift flight of a sparrow through the hall in which you sit at supper in winter with your ealdormen and thanes. A good fire is burning on the hearth in the middle of the hall and all inside is warm, while outside the wintry storms of rain and snow are raging. The sparrow flies in one door and quickly out at the other. While he is within the hall, he is safe from the wintry storm; but after the briefest space of calm, he immediately vanishes out of your sight into the dark winter from which he had emerged. So, this life of man appears for a short space, but of what went before or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant. If, therefore, this new doctrine contains something more certain, it seems right for us to follow it’ (Church History 2.13).
It is a great scene. There is the huge royal hall, so typical of Anglo-Saxon kingdoms (think of the hall of Théoden of Rohan in The Lord of the Rings), and the fire on the hearth in the depths of winter. Outside it is grey and cold and freezing, but inside warm and toasty. For a moment the sparrow appears and then is gone, back into the cold and dark. What a vivid picture of pagan hopelessness before the light of the gospel came to Northumbria.
