The Mtstery Chronicles

by Joe Nickell

  Today few historians believe that St. James ever visited Spain. According to one guidebook, Roads to Santiago (Nooteboom 1997, 201): “The fiery resplendence of Santiago and all it inspired came about because people believed they had found the grave of the apostle James in that town, events therefore that were set in motion by something that perhaps never took place at all.” One dictionary of saints (Coulson 1958, 237) explains some of the reasons for skepticism:

  FIGURS 13-1, 13-2, 13-3, In Spain’s Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, pilgrims climb stairs to an alcove behind the statue of Santiago (St. James), which they embrace in a centuries-old tradition. (Photographs by Joe Nickell.)

  Tradition asserts that James brought the gospel to Spain, but because of the early date of his death, this claim is quite untenable. In the Acts of the Apostles it is Paul who is depicted as the pioneer missionary, and James was dead before Paul’s activity began.

  In fact, the tradition only appears in written form for the first time in the seventh century, arising from a Greek source of doubtful historical credentials, but it was a century later, when a star miraculously revealed what was claimed to be the tomb of James, that popular belief spread. This shrine at Compostella (probably derived from Campus stellae: the field of the star) rivalled Rome as a center of pilgrimage.

  But did the legend of the star give rise to the name Compostela, or was it the other way around? According to an official Spanish government guidebook (El Camino 1990, 2), the place chosen for deposit of St. James’ sarcophagus was “at exactly the spot where a former compostum— cemetery—lay which in the course of time became Compostela.”1 In fact, excavations beneath the cathedral have yielded “remnants of a pre-Ro-man necropolis” as well as “[r]emains of a Roman cemetery,” together with “an altar dedicated to Jupiter” (Gitlitz and Davidson 2000, 346, 351). In light of these facts, it seems plausible that the name Compostela might have derived not from Campus stellae (“star field”) but from Campus stelae (a stele being an inscribed stone), that is, “field of monuments” or “gravestone field.” Another possibility is that the name is a combined form of compositus (“orderly arrangement”) and stelae (“tombstones”).

  Even more likely (according to Kevin Christopher, CSICOP’s publicity director, who has degrees in classics and linguistics) is the possibility that compostela is simply a diminutive form of compostum.

  If any of these alternate interpretations is correct, it would suggest that a name that originally meant “graveyard” was mistranslated as “star field,” and that the mistranslation in turn prompted the little tale purporting to “explain” the name. The process by which a folk etymology apparently leads to the creation of a legend is well known. One example is the name of a British tribe, Trinovantes, which seems to have been falsely attributed to Troynovant, or “New Troy,” and so to have prompted a legend that remnant Trojans settled a then-uninhabited Britain (Howatson 1989, 582-83). Another case in point is the name of a class of “miraculous” Christ portraits, vera icona, or “true images,” that became known as “veronicas”—hence apparently inspiring the legend that a pious woman of that name gave her veil to Jesus to wipe his face as he struggled to his crucifixion (Nickell 1998,19-29, 73-77).

  As we have seen, there were numerous other legends about St. James, as of course there were about other religious figures and subjects. Many factors contributed to the manufacture of saints’ legends. For example, speaking specifically of Santiago, one source observes that “many of the great romances of the middle ages developed from the tales told by the pilgrims to while away the tedium of the long journey to this remote corner of Spain” (Encyclopedia Britannica 1960). A more sinister view of the entire affair regarding St. James and his legends is given by Hauck (2000, 133-34):

  The discovery of his relics was apparently a hoax perpetrated by the Church to attract pilgrims and take the region back from Arabian settlers [the Moors]. It is known that the Cathedral of Santiago sent hired “storytellers” to spread the news of miracles associated with the relics, and their tactics seem to have worked, for by the twelfth century, this was the most popular pilgrimage site in Europe.

  Of course, discrediting the legend of the relics’ miraculous discovery, and even debunking the alleged missionary work of St. James in Spain, “does not dispose of the claim that the relics at Compostela are his” (Coulson 1958, 237). Yet how likely is it that the apostle’s remains would have been arduously transported to northern Spain in the first place, and then have remained unknown until they were allegedly revealed nearly eight centuries later?

  Additional doubts are raised by the fact that the remains of St. James, when discovered, were accompanied by the skeletons of two others. Though that would not be surprising at the site of an ancient cemetery, how did the pious legendmakers explain the two extra bodies buried with the apostle? They simply declared them to be the relics of “two of his disciples” (McBirnie 1973, 94).

  Further suspicion about the authenticity of the relics comes from the climate of relic-mongering that was prevalent in the Middle Ages. As the demand for relics intensified, “a wholesale business in fakes” grew in response (Pick 1929,101-2). Alleged relics included the fingers of St. Paul, John the Baptist, and the doubting Thomas. Most prolific were “relics” associated with Jesus himself. No fewer than six churches preserved his foreskin. There were also bits of hay from the manger in which he was laid at birth, gifts from the Wise Men, and vials of Mary’s breast milk. From the crucifixion, various churches had thorns from the crown of thorns, although the Sainte Chapelle in Paris possessed the entire object. There were more than 40 “true” shrouds, including the notorious Shroud of Turin, which appeared in the middle of the fourteenth century as part of a faith-healing scheme. (See chapter 22, “Scandals and Follies of the ’Holy Shroud.’”)

  In the case of St. James, there is even a question about the exact nature of the relics. McBirnie (1973,106-7), in his Search for the Twelve Apostles, declares it a certainty that James’s body was buried in Jerusalem. However, he believes it possible that later “some of the bones of the Apostle, perhaps the body” might have been removed to Spain, with the head left behind in Jerusalem. Contravening stories surround alleged portions of James’s body that are housed elsewhere. For example, at Constantinople a shrine held “a silver arm encompassing a relic of St. James the Greater,” which was taken to Troyes, France after the capture of Constantinople in 1204 (Gies and Gies 1969, 128). Another relic, the saint’s hand, is supposedly preserved at the abbey in Reading, England (Jones 1994). Still another relic is claimed by an Italian cathedral (McBirnie 1973, 96).

  Of course, the relics could have been subdivided, following a common medieval practice (McBirnie 1973, 107), but even the presumed link between the relics that were supposedly revealed miraculously in the early ninth century, and those enshrined at Compostela today, is questionable. As Gitlitz and Davidson (2000) report:

  Actually, Santiago’s bones were hidden several times in successive centuries to keep them out of the hands of various threatening parties, such as Drake, who wanted them for England, and various Spanish monarchs, who coveted them for the Escorial. Eventually their exact location was forgotten altogether, although pilgrims continued to venerate an urn on the altar that they believed held the bones. Excavations in 1878-9 unearthed some bones that—when the discoverer went temporarily blind— were held to be those of the Apostle. Six years later Pope Leo XIII issued a bull verifying the validity of the relics, thus—at least officially—ending all controversy.

  In short, there are some bones at Compostela the provenance of which cannot credibly be traced to James the Greater. As The Penguin Dictionary of Saints concludes, there is “no evidence whatever as to the identity of the relics discovered in Galicia early in the ninth century and claimed to be those of St. James” (Attwater 1983, 179). But if the relics are bogus, as the evidence strongly indicates, how can we explain the reported supernatural and paranormal events there? Can they actua
lly have naturalistic explanations? Indeed they can. For example, supposedly divine cures may simply be due to the body’s own healing ability eventually proving effective, or to an abatement of the illness (known as spontaneous remission), or to the effects of suggestion (the well-known placebo effect). A reduction in pain, whether caused by suggestion or by the physiological effects of excitement, may also give the illusion that a miracle “cure” has taken place (Nickell 1998).

  Visionary experiences, like those of Shirley MacLaine, can also have prosaic explanations. They may be due to pilgrims’ heightened expectations and to many other factors, including the propensity of certain individuals to fantasize. MacLaine herself exhibits several traits associated with the “fantasy-prone” personality: Such persons often have rich fantasy lives, believe they have psychic powers, supposedly receive special messages from higher beings, and report vivid dreams and appa-ritional experiences (Wilson and Barber 1983; Baker and Nickell 1992, 221-26).

  The “dream-visions” that MacLaine had when she rested along the Camino—experiences that “seemed more than a dream” (MacLaine 2000, 79, 105)—may have been what is termed lucid dreaming. A lucid dream is one in which the dreamer is able to direct the course of the dream, “something like waking up in your dreams” (Blackmore 1991). In fact, MacLaine (2000, 59) says she “realized that on some level I must be controlling in some manner what I dreamed.” That she had her dream-visions while hiking nearly 500 miles at a rate of up to 20 miles a day is interesting, as it is known that lucid dreaming tends to occur following “high levels of physical (and emotional) activity” (Blackmore 1991, 365).

  Similar explanations may apply to the apparitions reported by some New-Age visitors to Santiago de Compostela: ghostly pilgrims seen “making their way through the city to the holy shrine” (Hauck 2000, 133-34). Such apparitions may be nothing more than mental images superimposed on the actual visual scene—especially if the one seeing them is daydreaming or performing some routine activity (Nickell 2000), conditions consistent with walking on a long journey.

  As to any protective powers supposedly obtained by hugging the saint’s statue, my own experience belies any such notion. After performing the charming ritual myself, I stepped up onto a narrow ledge of the small chamber to attempt a better view for some snapshots. Although 1 survived that precarious act, later in the afternoon I slipped on steps outside my hotel in La Corufia and broke my leg very badly. (Picture my lying in agony surrounded by skeptics, who suggest I may only have a sprain and invite me to see if I can wiggle my toes. But when I lift my leg and they observe the bizarre angle of my foot, their doubts are silenced!)

  Whether or not the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela houses a saint’s relics, which may or may not exude supernatural power, the cathedral is nevertheless a monument to the persistence of magical thinking. Apparently built on the site of a Roman shrine to Jupiter (with accompanying necropolis), it became a focal point for Christian pilgrims, and now seems to be undergoing further transition as New Agers adapt its legends and history to their own occultish superstitions. They see it as a site of powerful “psychic energy” and the pilgrimage route as a tracing of mystical “ley lines” (Hauck 2000, 133-34; MacLaine 2000, 4-5). Although specific beliefs change, what Paul Kurtz terms “the quest for transcendence” seems perpetual (1991, 23-26).

  NOTE

  1.The usual Latin word for cemetery is sepulcretum (or sepulcrum, a place of interment). However, compono (with forms compostus, composition, etc.) means “to lay out for burial, place in an urn, bury.” See Oxford Latin Dictionary 1969.

  REFERENCES

  Attwater, Donald. 1983. The Penguin Dictionary of Saints. London: Penguin.

  Baker, Robert A., and Joe Nickell. 1992. Missing Pieces: How to Investigate Ghosts, UFOs, Psychics, & Other Mysteries. Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus Books.

  Blackmore, Susan. 1991. Lucid dreaming: Awake in your sleep? Skeptical Inquirer 15, no. 4 (Summer): 362-70.

  Cavendish, Richard, ed. 1989. Legends of the World. New York: Crescent Books.

  Coulson, John, ed. 1958. The Saints: A Concise Biographical Dictionary. New York: Hawthorne Books.

  El Camino de Santiago. 1990. Travel booklet. N.p., Spain: Ministerio de Transposes, Turismo y Comunicaciones.

  Encyclopedia Britannica. 1960. s.v. “Santiago de Compostela.”

  Gies, Joseph, and Frances Gies. 1969. Life in a Medieval City. New York: Harper Colophon Books.

  Gitlitz, David M., and Linda Kay Davidson. 2000. The Pilgrimage Road to Santiago. New York: St. Martin’s Griffin.

  Guiley, Rosemary Ellen. 1991. Harper’s Encyclopedia of Mystical & Paranormal Experience, s.v. “Karma,” “Leys.” New York: HarperCollins.

  Hauck, Dennis William. 2000. The International Directory of Haunted Places. New York: Penguin Books.

  Howatson, M. C, ed. 1989. The Oxford Companion to Classical Literature. 2d ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

  Jones, Alison. 1994. The Wordsworth Dictionary of Saints. Hertfordshire, England: Wordsworth Reference.

  Kennedy, Richard. 1984. The Dictionary of Beliefs. London: Ward Lock Educational.

  Kurtz, Paul. 1991. The Transcendental Temptation: A Critique of Religion and the Paranormal Buffalo, N.Y.: Prometheus Books. MacLaine, Shirley. 2000. The Camino: A Journey of the Spirit. New York: Pocket Books.

  McBirnie, William Steuart. 1973. The Search for the Twelve Apostles. Wheaton, 111.: Tyndale House, 87-107.

  Neville, Anne. 2000. Walking a mile in the pilgrim’s shoes. Review of The Camino: A Journey of the Spirit, by Shirley MacLaine. Buffalo News (Buffalo, N.Y.), 5 July.

  Nickell, Joe. 1998. Looking for a Miracle. Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books.

  ------------ .2000. Haunted inns: Tales of spectral guests. Skeptical Inquirer 24, no. 5 (September/October): 17-21.

  Nooteboom, Gees. 1997. Roads to Santiago: A Modem-Day Pilgrimage through :Harcourt. Oxford Latin Dictionary. 1969. s.v. “compono.” Pick, Christopher, ed. 1929. Mysteries of the World. Secaucus, N.J.: Chartwell Books.

  Wilson, Shirley C, and T. X. Barber. 1983. The fantasy-prone personality. In Imagery: Current Theory, Research and Application, edited by A. A. Sheikh. New York: John Wiley & Sons.

  Woodward, Kenneth L. 1990. Making Saints. New York: Simon & Schuster.

  14

  Circular Reasoning

  Crop Circles and Their “Orbs” of Light

  Since they began to capture media attention in the mid-1970s, and throughout their proliferation and evolution during the decades of the 1980s and 1990s, crop circles have generated mystery and controversy. New books touting “scientific research” continue the trend. The topic also got a boost from a 2002 Hollywood movie, Signs, starring Mel Gibson as a Pennsylvania farmer who discovers a 500-foot design imprinted in his crops and seeks to learn its meaning.

  At issue are swirled, often circular designs pressed into crop fields, especially those of southern England. They can range from small circles only a few feet in diameter to elaborate “pictograms,” some now as large as a few hundred feet across. By the end of the 1980s, books on the crop-circle phenomenon had cxbegun to spring up as well, and soon circles-mystery enthusiasts were being dubbed cereologists (after Ceres, the Roman goddess of vegetation). Circlemania was by then in full bloom (Delgado and Andrews 1989; Nickell and Fischer 1992).

  Most cereologists—also known as “croppies” (Hoggart and Hutchinson 1995)—believed the circular designs were being produced either by extraterrestrials or by hypothesized “plasma vortices,” which are supposedly “small, local whirlwinds of ionized air” (Haselhoff 2001, 5-6). A few took a more mystical approach. When I visited the vast wheat crops of the picturesque Wiltshire countryside in 1994, at one formation a local dowser told me he believed the swirled patterns were produced by spirits of the earth (Nickell 1995).

  Hoaxers, most croppies insisted, could not be responsible because the plants were only bent and not broken, and there were no footprints or other traces of human act
ivity. Skeptics replied that from mid-May to early August, English wheat is green and pliable, and can be broken only with difficulty. As for tracks, they were precluded by de facto footpaths in the form of the tractor “tramlines” that mark the fields in closely spaced, parallel rows (Nickell and Fischer 1992).

  Investigation into the circles mystery indicated that it might be profitable to look not just at individual formations but rather at the overall phenomenon (with a nod to the old principle that one may fail to see the forest for the trees). Forensic analyst John F. Fischer and I soon identified several characteristics that suggested the work of hoaxers (Nickell and Fischer 1992):

  An escalation in frequency. Although there had been sporadic reports of simple circles in earlier times and in various countries (possibly as UFO-landing-spot hoaxes), the “classic” crop circles began to be reported by the mid-1970s. Data on the circle reports showed that their number increased annually from 1981 to 1987, an escalation that seemed to correlate with media coverage of the phenomenon. In fact, it appeared that the coverage helped prompt further hoaxes.

  Geographic distribution. The phenomenon showed a decided predilection for a limited geographic area, flourishing in southern England: Hampshire, Wiltshire, and nearby counties. It was there that the circles effect first captured the world’s attention, but just as the number of circles increased, so their locations also spread. After newspaper and television reports on the phenomenon began to proliferate in the later 1980s, the formations began to crop up (so to speak) in significant numbers around the world. Indeed, the circles effect appeared to be a media-borne “virus.”

  Increase in complexity. A very important characteristic of the patterned-crops phenomenon was the tendency of the configurations to become increasingly elaborate over time. They progressed from simple swirled circles to circles with rings and satellites, to still more complex patterns. In 1987 came a crop message, “WEARENOTALONE” (although skeptics observed that, if the source were indeed English-speaking extraterrestrials, the message should have read “You” rather than “We”). In 1990 came still more complex patterns, dubbed “pictograms.” There were also free-form shapes, such as a tadpole-like design, a witty crop triangle, and the hilarious bicycle (see Hoggart and Hutchinson 1995, 59). There also appeared beautifully interlinked spirals, a Meno-rah, intricate snowflake and stylized spider-web designs, elaborate torus-knot and mandala emblems, pentagram and floral patterns, and other distinctive formations, including an “origami hexagram” and several fractals (mathematical designs with a motif subjected to repeated subdivision)—all consistent with the intelligence of modern homo sapiens. At the end of the decade came many designs that included decidedly square and rectilinear shapes, seeming to represent a wry response to the hypothesized swirling “vortex” mechanism.