The catalogue of “Treasures of Heaven” is exemplary in every way. The ten essays in the book, by an international team of scholars, are learned and accessible. The editors have done an excellent job of planning and directing these essays so that they cover the fundamental topics of the worship of relics in the Middle Ages. The clarity and intelligence of these studies, from the first piece on “The Religion of Relics in Late Antiquity and Byzantium” to the last on “The Afterlife of the Reliquary [in contemporary art],” makes this catalogue the best and most stimulating introduction to the subject in English.



WHAT EXACTLY IS a relic? The word comes from the Latin reliquiae—literally, the things left behind—and the primary use of the term is for the body of a deceased holy person, whether intact or in part, no matter how small the fragment. The earliest recorded Christian relics are the bones and ashes of immolated martyrs, which were collected by the faithful in the second century. Starting in the late fourth century, Saint Ambrose and others began to dig up and venerate entire corpses. But it was rare for sacred corpses to remain intact, because any body valued enough to be worshipped generally was cut up and divided among many believers. Sometimes bits were given away as gifts; sometimes they were stolen. Such was the desire for the miracle-working bodies of saints that occasionally guards had to watch over mortally ill holy men and women to prevent the unauthorized dismemberment of their corpses as soon as they died. Body relics also included the blood of Jesus and the blood of saints, and the milk of the Virgin, which was especially treasured and worshipped. The cathedral at Chartres is just one of dozens of churches that house drops of her milk.

Relics are an example of what James Frazer called “contagious magic.” Any thing that Jesus, Mary, or the saints touched was thought to retain the glow of sanctity, so items of their clothing, and objects from the life of Christ, particularly pieces of the True Cross, were also venerated as holy. Even the ground they walked on or were buried in was considered sacred and magical. Stones and dirt from the Holy Land were popular relics for pilgrims throughout the Middle Ages. An example of this is included in Treasures of Heaven, a box with a lid depicting scenes from the life of Christ, and stones from the sites within; the box has been a treasure in the pope’s private chapel since the sixth century. In some periods so much earth was taken from the places of Christ’s Passion in Jerusalem that new soil had to be brought in every night to refill the ground. And the blessed power of these bodies, objects, and places was believed to be partly transferable. Cloth, bone, oil, or water that came into contact with sacred remains could be made into a new relic.

Even the briefest account of medieval relics makes them seem alien and odd. What could be stranger than to pray at the foreskin of Christ or to bathe one’s tongue in the milk of the Virgin? Yet we must recall that it is a basic human impulse, observed in cultures throughout time and around the world, to treasure physical things that stimulate and enable remembrance. We naturally associate strong feelings with material tokens; we make, save, and share all kinds of objects with the hope that they will preserve memories and embody deep emotions. We do so, I think, because images and memories in the mind are simply too faint, mutable, and fleeting. To be made more real and to be shared, they must be objectified and concretized in physical things that we can actually see and touch. Talismans of memory help to evoke a missing presence, a being who is not physically there. They allow us to feel closer to absent loved ones or other figures of high regard, perhaps especially the dead.