The Missionary Sisters of the Office

While I was writing out my thoughts on Andalusada's differences from IRL two nights ago, I came up with the Heretical Hero as an archetype. And then, between that, Taiping China, and my drabblings of writing about the Maroons (out when they're done), I came up with another tropey character, the Maud Missionary.

I really should have written up her first, because while I know that the Maud Missionary is the perfect and rightful heir of St. Matilda, I don't know anything about the movement she's a part of. So little, in fact, that I've been hammering myself for hours about what they're named.

To that end, a conversation with Ebola gave me the working name, and the one I'll be using for the URL: "the Missionaries of Hegemony."

The Order of Saint Gonzalo

Right now there's nothing in Andalusada called the Order of St. Dominic, and even if there are "Dominicans" they have nothing to do with the Dominicans IRL. That's because that niche evolved differently, and the organization filling it is the Order of Saint Gonzalo, commonly the Gonzalans.

Dominican Gonzalan spirituality 101

Because of Rule of Canny, Gonzalan spirituality looks understandably like the Dominican spirituality it replaces. (At one point, I described Franciscan and Dominican spiritualities as being "Christocentric" vs. "Logocentric"; in Andalusada, the distinction is better incarnational vs. evangelical.) The first and most glaring distinction is that Gonzalo did something Domingo didn't: by adopting (and adapting) the Rule of Saint Stephen from Stephanines, he circumvented a papal ban on establishing new rules.

"The one rule of our salvation and of all others'," the Rule begins, "is the Gospel of Christ..." - and it goes from there, in a fairly stark fashion. More specifically, the Rule is followed by a distinctly Augustinian, southern, and... well, let's be honest, openly schismatic reading of it, which lead to hundreds of Stephanines defecting to Gonzalo's side when it became known to them. That southern-Augustinian-dissenting addendum moderates the Muretin starkness, but in doing so also emphasizes the features of it that are most recognizably Dominican.

(This means that, from the very start, a case could be made that Saint Gonzalo wasn't following his own Rule. It also means that, unlike the Dominicans IRL, it's both meaningful and possible for there to be Capuchin-style strict-observance orders. Some of those strict-observance sausage parties were probably key figures in the rise of the Sodality.)

Introducing St. Matilda

Saint Matilda exists because Saint Dominic doesn't. Per Rule of Canny, Andalusada needs someone to fill his shoes, an that someone is Saint Gonzalo of Lerida - but he's an original character, which means that I have both free room and a lot of details to fill in. And back before his page took on its current form, one of my earliest notes about Gonzalo was something I wanted in his story: "a Gonzalan St. Clare."

For the longest time, this has sat unattended, because the only reason I introduced Gonzalo was because John George wasn't an Augustinian, and I honestly hadn't had any interesting thoughts about it. Last night, though, while trying to rename Catholic orders to fit into my arbitrary naming conventions, I discovered some really cool things, which brought this back to mind - and I'm gonna make the most of it.

The Gonzalan Rite

One of the problems that Saint Dominic faced was the fact that there wasn't really a standardized liturgy his friars could preach. There may have been, but there were enough regional variations from convent to convent, diocese to diocese, parish to parish that they couldn't celebrate it together. So his successors set about making their own, which was enshrined as the Dominican Rite and was practiced up until the 1960s.

Saint Gonzalo, his replacement in Andalusada, has the same issue, and handles it approximately the same way. By the time it's compiled, though, the differences on the ground are enough that they're reflected in the superstructure. And because theology is one of the things I geek about, I'm going to write about it.

Introducing Saint Gonzalo of Lerida

After any big divergence, a region has a 100-year grace period to produce the same notable people, with the creative license increasing the further I get from that divergence.

Iberia's grace period runs out in 1181, which is problematic because that's before a bumper crop of its most significant figures are even born. Some can be handwaved a bit (the ibn Rushd family was well-entrenched and had produced brilliant minds for generations by that point, so Averroes might be salvageable), but some of them can't be - like Saint Dominic, for instance, without whom Western history to come gets very alien fast.

Fortunately for me, though, if you can't use the original, you can always use an Expy. All you need to do is adjust the superstructure to account for the changed base (yes, I know, but it works), and you can work around it interestingly. And if you choose the point you start at, you can even use the Expy to highlight the little changes in the world.

So now I'm going to introduce his replacement: St. Gonzalo of Lerida.

Introducing Johan Georg Günther

By the time the Protestant Reformation should be rolling around, I've got my hands full and my ass handed to me.

Because by that point, the cumulative issues that have been set in motion by things have basically ensured that nobody recognizable's gonna be born. Even more seriously, even if the same analogues rise at about the same time, the ideas are gonna be different too, setting off which-came-first-the-base-or-the-superstructure arguments that ripple across the continuity.

For clarity's sake, I'm going to introduce one of those analogous figures now. His name is Johan Georg Günther, and he's the Antiluther.