Missionary to the Moors
by Mike Oettle
WHO on earth was
Ramon Llull? you might ask. Why do we need to know about a Catalan poet from
the island of Majorca who doesn’t even appear on the Church calendar?
Ramon (also known as Raymond Lully)[1] played an important role in his own time in focusing attention on mission to non-Christian peoples.
At first, though, mission wasn’t very important to him. Born around 1235, he belonged to a family involved with the court of the governors (later the kings) of Majorca[2] and his early career was as a knight and troubadour. He wrote a manual of chivalry which was published in English by Caxton in the 15th century.
But while the chivalry of the tournament was rising in prominence, that of the Crusades was acquiring a bad name. The Fourth Crusade had sacked Constantinople in 1203, and in 1289-91 the Kingdom of Jerusalem would lose its last footholds in the Holy Land, Tripoli (now in Lebanon) and Acre (Akko in Israel). A new way of confronting Islam was now needed.
Majorca in Ramon’s time still had a large Moorish population, and from them he learned Arabic and became involved in Sufi mysticism and Middle Eastern contemplation.
He was a married man by the time he began experiencing visions of Christ at the age of about 30 and consequently abandoned courtly life and devoted himself to
missionary work. Strongly influenced by Francis of Assisi, he travelled widely
in North Africa and Asia Minor attempting to convert Muslims to Christianity.
Around 1272 Ramon had a mystic vision on Majorca’s Mount Randa in which he saw the whole universe reflecting characteristics of God, and began working out a new philosophical system in which he wanted to bring all knowledge together at a single point of unity.
This was radically opposed to the philosophy then in fashion in Paris and at other
European universities. Based on the teaching of the 12th-century Moorish philosopher Averroës, it insisted that philosophical truth and theological truth could not be brought together.
Ramon
taught instead that even the deepest mysteries of the Christian Faith could
be proved by logical argument. Borrowing ideas from the 11th-century teacher
Anselm of Canterbury, he wrote a collection of essays or treatises now known as
the Ars magna (“The Great Art”).
He
henceforth devoted his energies towards teaching his art and persuading rulers
and popes to support his projects. At his urging, King Iago II of Aragon
established a school of Oriental languages in Majorca to spread this art – and,
incidentally, the gospel – through the Islamic world.
Mission, in fact, remained his primary aim, and Ramon was reportedly martyred because of his zeal for converting Muslims. He is believed to have been killed by stoning at Bejaïa, east of Algiers (or perhaps at Bajah, near Tunis), in 1316.
Ramon left a wide legacy of writings, including two allegorical novels, Blanquerna and Felix, and a collection of mystical writings titled Llibre d’amic e amat.[3] Other Spanish mystics such as St Teresa of Avila and St John of the Cross (both 16th-century) continued the tradition of Ramon’s teaching.
But in Rome it was believed that he had confused faith with reason – his teaching had in fact been condemned in 1376 – and it was not until the 19th century that the Catholic Church permitted his veneration. Today Ramon is widely revered in the Christian Mediterranean as both mystic and missionary, and his writings are
important in Catalan culture.
Yet,
considering that his focus was on the mission to Islam, it is a pity that Ramon’s successors have made so little headway in this direction. Could it be that in this 21st century we finally see it bearing fruit in great numbers?
