The tension between the spiritual value of death and the fear inspired by the thought of one''s own dying body was central to medieval monastic practice. Mark Chinca observes that, in monks'' intellectual training, "philosophy was wholly and explicitly equated with remembrance of the last end, thanks to a definition which monks learned in the schoolroom: philosophia est meditatio mortis , ''philosophy is the meditation of death.''" "Meditation," in this context, could also include the "mental rehearsal of an action, even physical practice at a skill with a view to mastering it"; to meditate on death was to engage in an imaginative practice of dying "by mentally separating the soul and its various faculties from the influence of the corporeal senses" in order to free the mind and the soul to "contemplate eternal truth." This practice dates back to at least John Cassian (c. 360-435). The Rule of Saint Benedict (c. 530) provides a clear example of the importance to monks of remembering death; among the seventy-three Instruments of God''s Works in chapter 4 are the following: "To fear Judgment Day. To fear Hell.

To desire eternal life with all one''s spirit. To see death before one daily." Meditation on the frightening qualities of death and a deep desire for its aftermath are thus a core part of medieval monastic formation. Fear and desire, the poles of my analysis, thus trace long lines through medieval writings on death as feelings that are both to some degree "natural" and that, at the same time, also can be cultivated. Bernard''s reflections on death in Sermon 26, which I discussed in chapter 1, build on this tradition. What he adds is the doubled response to an individual''s death that comes from considering it from two different points of view, that of the dying and that of the bereft. In doing so, he foregrounds the challenge of reconciling these perspectives: Death is good for the (blessed) dead, but much more difficult for the living. Struggling with the affective and felt dimensions of death and dying--and seeking to change those affective responses--was the work of the monastery''s meditative practice.

Consciously directed spiritual yearning generates the desire that counteracts the innate animal aversion to death, but at the same time, the devout Christian''s eager desire to be with God must be counterbalanced by the fear of dying unprepared. Yet a delight in the prospect of death was sometimes taken for granted as the fitting attitude of a devout and devoted Christian. In the sixth century, Gregory the Great exhorts "those who love God" to celebrate the prospect of the end of the world; those who are saddened by it are "those whose hearts are rooted in the love of it, those who do not seek the life to come, who do not even realize that it exists." In death, he says, true lovers of God "will soon find him whom they love, while what they have not loved is passing away. We who acknowledge the eternal joys of our heavenly homeland should hasten to it with all speed." Life, he concludes, is nothing but "a way," and it would be a contradiction "to grow weary with the exertions of the way, and yet be unwilling that the way be ended." Renouncing the world means renouncing delight in it. Anchorites could have been assumed to have such an outlook, as they had already died to the world and inhabited, both spiritually and socially, a liminal space between bodily life and death.

Yet the rules for recluses suggest that even they needed to cultivate their aversion to worldly life. The Cistercian Aelred of Rievaulx (1110-1167) composed the Rule of Life for Recluses for his sister in around 1164. A work that addresses all aspects of an anchorite''s life, Aelred''s text contains only a brief passage that deals directly with death. Acknowledging that being afraid of death is natural, Aelred proceeds to explain how faith can transform death from a source of fear into a source of comfort that will alleviate the pain and tedium of living. If his sister has a clean conscience--which, for Aelred, has a great deal to do with chastity--faith will remove all dread of death. His account demonstrates how even an anchorite could succumb to a horror of death and, through deliberate work, move beyond it: The beginning of the future and the end of the present is death. Is there anyone who has not a natural repulsion for death, who does not feel dread of it? Wild beasts guard themselves from death, preserve life by flight, hiding places and a thousand other devices. Now then examine yourself carefully.

What answer does your conscience give you, what is it your faith counts on, your hope promises you, your affections expect. If your life is a burden to you, if you are weary of the world, if the flesh brings you only pain, then indeed death is something you long for, to free you from the burden of this life, to put an end to your weariness, to take away bodily pain. This by itself I consider to surpass all the delights of this world, all its honors and riches: to have such serenity of conscience, such firm faith and such hope that you do not fear death. (excerpted from chapter 2).