The Second Nun’s Tale recounts the religious devotion of Saint Cecilia along with her husband Valerian and his brother Tibertius.  The Tale highlights the physical torment devout Christians must endure at the hands of the evil Romans.  Their pagan beliefs obviously went against the Christian faith, but what struck me was the depiction of Roman authority figures.  “The sergeantz of the toun of Rome hem soghte, / And hem biforn Almache, the prefect, broghte,” (361-62).  These are not ordinary Roman citizens venting their anger toward Christians, but these are sergeants and their prefect – figures of worldly authority attempting to impose worldly dominion over Christians who pledge allegiance to the supernatural dominion of Christ.  Chaucer highlights the struggle not only between pagan and Christian faith but also the opposition between corporeal and supernatural “authority” – a complex subject analyzed in the Chaucerian poetry class.  Though Almache is a prefect, he cannot force Cecilia to “Do sacrifice, or Cristendom reneye,” (459).  This conflict between authorities of physical imposition and spiritual devotion becomes self-evident when Almache has Cecilia slain.  Of course she sustains three strikes and survives to continue preaching the ways of Christ.  And after three days, she dies and is buried alongside Valerian, Tibertius, (and Maximus).  The allusion to the holy trinity is another prominent feature in the tale.

             The legend that struck me the most was of the Saint Apollonia.  In particular where it “she broke free from the hands of the wicked and of her own will threw herself into the fire with which they had threatened her.”  She was even more “eager to undergo death than they to inflict it” (269).  Though every tale of Saints illustrates the physical pain they endure in the name of Christ, none states so explicitly the willingness towards suffering.  Apollonia of her own volition casts herself into the torture that her captors were going to subject her to.  Such action even baffles them.  In their totality, through the monotonous accounts of miracles and martyrdom, it appears as though the most prominent lesson to be learned is the irrelevance of the body compared to the almighty Christian Lord. 

Such spiritual supremacy is observed in the Second Nun’s Tale as Cecilia survives sure death.  However, the divinity of the spirit only ever functions through a bodily host.  In reading the stories, it’s difficult to reconcile the emphasis on spiritual transcendence when it is the body that first and foremost presents itself as the vehicle through which the divine can operate at all.  This also led me to question the purpose of bodily life in the face of eternal spirit.  The martyrs all lead lives entirely devoted to the afterlife refusing corporeal temptations, especially lust.  But there are never any explanations for bodily manifestation in the first place.  The design of humanity in its bodily form seems to be glossed over and instead of embracing the human physiology; these stories attempt to deny mankind’s physical boundaries.  Even if, by medieval Christian parameters, the afterlife awaited the faithful, the body appears to serve no purpose other than dying.  So too does Christ in his human manifestation only serve to die.  So why even have a body at all?  Does it simply host the spirit which presides over all things in relation to God?  What medieval motive can reconcile corporeality in the first place?