The Sacred Duty of Pilgrimage in Medieval Faith

Both Christianity and Islam share a deep tradition of pilgrimage as a spiritual obligation. The Quran instructs Muslims to undertake the Hajj to Mecca at least once in their lifetime, while medieval Christians viewed journeys to Jerusalem as acts of devotion. This parallel reveals an often-overlooked theological kinship between the two faiths—despite their mutual rejection of each other’s sacred claims.

Yet by the 11th century, this shared reverence for holy sites would become entangled with violence. What began as personal quests for redemption would escalate into the catastrophic Crusades, where penitent pilgrims became holy warriors. The story of Count Fulk of Anjou—a murderer turned pilgrim—and the fanatical preacher Peter the Hermit reveals how spiritual yearning mutated into holy war.

A Murderer’s Path to Redemption: The Strange Case of Count Fulk

In mid-11th century France, few figures were more notorious than Fulk III, Count of Anjou. Known for executing multiple wives and brutalizing his subjects, his cruelty was legendary. Yet according to chroniclers, Fulk’s nights became haunted by the ghosts of his victims, driving him to seek absolution through pilgrimage.

His first journey to Jerusalem followed the standard medieval rite: dressed in humble garb, he prayed at holy sites and distributed alms to poor pilgrims on his return. Remarkably, this ruthless noble repeated the ordeal twice more—collecting Christian relics, donating treasures to the Pope, and ultimately receiving papal forgiveness. His transformation became celebrated across Europe as proof that even the wicked could be saved through devotion.

This tale reflects a critical medieval belief: pilgrimage could erase sin. But it also set a dangerous precedent—that violent men could buy spiritual purity through grand gestures, foreshadowing the Crusades’ fusion of piety and bloodshed.

The Hermit Who Ignited a Holy War

While Fulk sought personal salvation, another figure would channel pilgrimage fervor into mass violence. Peter the Hermit, an ascetic who spent months in Jerusalem, returned to Europe around 1095 with horrific (and likely exaggerated) tales of Muslim abuses against Christian pilgrims. Unlike ordinary clergy, hermits like Peter existed outside institutional religion, often developing extreme, uncompromising visions.

Peter’s preaching exploited deep anxieties. Medieval Christians lived in terror of dying with unforgiven sins, believing this doomed them to hell. When Pope Urban II endorsed Peter’s call to “liberate” Jerusalem—promising full absolution for participants—thousands saw enlistment as their only path to salvation.

The Birth of the Crusading Ideology

The Church’s offer of “plenary indulgence” (total sin forgiveness) transformed pilgrimage into something new: an armed expedition where killing enemies became a sacred act. This theological innovation had explosive consequences:

– Economic desperation: Many recruits were landless peasants, hoping for heavenly rewards and earthly plunder.
– Escapism: Joining offered serfs freedom from feudal bonds.
– Anti-Semitism: Before reaching Jerusalem, some crusaders massacred Jewish communities in the Rhineland, seeing them as “enemies of Christ.”

By 1096, Peter’s “People’s Crusade”—a disorganized mob of 20,000—marched east, collapsing in chaos and bloodshed. Yet this failure only paved the way for the more militarized First Crusade (1096–1099), which culminated in the brutal sack of Jerusalem.

Legacy: When Penance Became Conquest

The Crusades’ origins in pilgrimage culture reveal how easily spiritual ideals can be weaponized:

1. The commodification of forgiveness: Fulk’s story and the indulgence system reduced moral reckoning to transactional acts, divorcing piety from ethical transformation.
2. The myth of redemptive violence: The idea that slaughter could be holy poisoned Christian-Muslim relations for centuries.
3. Modern parallels: Contemporary extremism still mirrors this pattern—using sacred duty to justify atrocities.

Today, historians recognize the First Crusade not as a pure religious clash, but as a collision of personal desperation, political ambition, and spiritual manipulation—all ignited by the medieval obsession with sin and salvation. The road to Jerusalem, once walked by penitents like Fulk, became drenched in blood because men believed God wanted it so.

In our era of resurgent religious nationalism, this history serves as a warning: when faith is twisted into a license for violence, even the holiest journeys lead to hell.