June 28, 2012

French in Florida: English Trespassers

I have often said that if I tried to write a fascinating and compelling religious story concerning the 16^th century conquest of the “New World,” it could not be more intriguing that what actually happened. You have the French against the Spanish, the Protestants against the Catholics, brittle fortresses and Indian battles and war at sea and high stakes. You have a battle of wills greater than can be imagined. But there was actually a third religious group and country represented in Florida’s early history, however briefly. In early August 1565, John Hawkins, English privateer, stopped at the French Fort Caroline to take fresh water aboard and to possibly assist the starving first batch of colonists.

Let us take a moment to ponder that culture clash. Though the Huguenots probably trusted the Protestant Englishmen better than the Catholic Spaniards, there was a long history of bad blood between England and France. The French colonists’ desperation to return home must have clashed with their natural aversion to the Englishmen’s religion. The Calvinist Huguenots would have taken issue with the basic Anglican tenets, including (1) the continued use of statuary and grand church decoration, and (2) very different standards concerning purity and personal obligation. The English, in turn, would have felt that the Huguenots’ rule against any graven images and their insistence on austerity was a bit extreme. I imagine there must have been some very colorful conversations.

Where else did they basically differ? Besides the ways mentioned above, the Calvinist Huguenots believed in the doctrines of predestination and election which the Anglicans, with a Catholic heritage and Lutheran nuances in those early years, would have neither understood nor tolerated. Yet despite all these differences, the French, desperate and encumbered, welcomed English supplies with great rejoining. Hawkins saw to it that joint religious services were held. I imagine that must have been quite interesting! Certaintly there was Protestant pride and a sense of solidarity held by each group, but still . . . it was highly irregular. Also, Rene de Laudonniere, who was in charge of Fort Caroline at the time, claimed John Hawkins as a "brother" to those curious Indians who asked his identity.

So there were indeed other Protestants besides the French Huguenots in Florida in 1565, only for a few days while passing through. England was not yet interested in the New World. That enterprise was yet to come. Sadly, only seventeen days after Hawkins and his privateers stumbled upon Fort Caroline and La Floride, many of the French settlers were slaughtered by Spanish conquistadors or, in the case of the women and children, enslaved. Those men who had not yet arrived at La Caroline and thus had not met the English would be killed as well, at a place called Matanzas. One must wonder how John Hawkins felt when he heard the news of the bloody French defeat in Florida. Could he ponder that the same men with whom he had so recently spoken had been so unjustly killed in the blink of an eye? Did that knowledge fuel his hatred of the Spanish that continued throughout his life?

John Hawkins helped keep the French alive until Jean Ribault arrived on the 28th of August. But not even the bold and intrepid explorer could save the French from the fate that was to come.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

June 27, 2012

 No Time Too Long

“Why study the Protestant Reformation? Why remember the martyrs and the massacres and all the things our ancestors suffered? It was all so long ago!” Ever heard anything like this? If you are a student of religion, a historian, or at least aspiring to either of these, you understand that these questions are irrelevant to you. Many of us “feel” the past. When we write, debate, remember, and honor, it is as if we are right there with our spiritual predecessors, smelling the blood and feeling the fear and seeing the horrors of intolerance. It does not matter how “long ago” it was, does it? For instance, if one’s grandparent died fifty years ago, is there a cut-off date to when it is no longer proper to remember? If a person means something to us, if we cannot bear for him or her to be forgotten, there is never such a date.

We remember famous figures in world history every day. We talk about the Twelve Apostles. About William Shakespeare and Thomas Edison and Julius Caesar. Just because they were born hundreds or even thousands of years ago, is that any reason to stop remembering them? For Protestant Christians, it’s personal. Those are our spiritual forerunners and, in many cases, our ancestors. We have a unique heritage and feel increasingly close to them and to their struggles. When we write, we picture the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre and the Wars of Religion. We feel caught up in their story. They died for the Protestant faiths that we can freely practice.

That’s right. Our ancestors died. They gave up their lives for their faith. That will always be worth remembering. And, having made such a sacrifice, they would expect their descendants to do something as simple as remember them. On a separate note, as I often said, I have always felt great sorrow that the story of the French Protestants martyred in 1565 near St. Augustine, Florida is not better known. These facts are often obscured if not downright ignored. I have often heard people say things like “it was so long ago, get over it,” and things of that nature. But these were human beings with names, faces, identities, and lives. Why is there a time in history that we must suddenly “forget”?

They deserve better than that.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

June 26, 2012

Martin Luther once said, “The devil, the originator of sorrowful anxieties and restless troubles, flees before the sound of music almost as much as before the Word of God . . . Music is a gift and grace of God, not an invention of men. Thus it drives out the devil and makes people cheerful. Then one forgets all wrath, impurity, and other devices.”

This is one of my favorite Luther quotes, both because I have always loved music and because it is so very true. During difficult days the first line of one of Luther’s hymns, “From Depths of Woe I Cry to Thee,” often flew into my head, even though I never knew the rest of the words and am uncertain if I had ever heard the tune. So I researched, and fell in love with Luther’s lyrics:

“From Depths of Woe I Cry to Thee”

Martin Luther (1524)

From depths of woe I cry to Thee,

Lord, hear me, I implore Thee.

Bend down Thy gracious ear to me,

My prayer let come before Thee.

If Thou rememberest each misdeed,

If each should have its rightful meed,

Who may abide Thy presence?

Thy love and grace alone avail

To blot out my transgression;

The best and holiest deeds must fail

To break sin’s dread oppression.

Before Thee none can boasting stand,

But all must fear Thy strict demand

And live alone by mercy.

Therefore my hope is in the Lord

And not in mine own merit;

It rests upon His faithful Word

To them of contrite spirit.

That He is merciful and just;

This is my comfort and my trust.

His help I wait with patience.

And though it tarry till the night

And till the morning waken,

My heart shall never doubt His might

Nor count itself forsaken.

Do thus, O ye of Israel’s seed,

Ye of the Spirit born indeed;

Wait for your God’s appearing.

Though great our sins and sore our woes,

His grace much more aboundeth;

His helping love no limit knows,

Our utmost need it soundeth.

Our shepherd good and true is He,

Who will at last His Israel free

From all their sin and sorrow.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

June 25, 2012

Ulrich Zwingli: Who Was He?

Many Protestants studying church history have heard of Ulrich Zwingli, but who was he and what did he do? Zwingli is considered one of the major reformers. He was born in 1484 in Switzerland and, like Martin Luther and John Calvin, was a pastor. But his story is distinctly different. John Calvin died in peaceable circumstances and Martin Luther succumbed to a stroke. Ulrich Zwingli, however, died a martyr.

If there was a less-than-favorable result of the Protestant Reformation it was that every reformer had slightly different views on important Christian issues. Instead of building on similarities instead of differences, reformers and their followers often struck out on their own, resulting in the Anabaptist, Lutheran, and Calvinist schools of thought, as well as others. Against the powerful might of the 16^th century Catholic Church, they might have done better to band together. This proves that even men with good intentions are indeed still men, humans who nurse prejudices and make uninformed decisions. Yet they desired pure Christianity, and their hearts were in the right place.

So what did Zwingli believe and how might his views be classified? Like other newborn Protestant groups, he took only Scripture as his authority. His major differences occur in his opinion of how baptism and Communion should be celebrated. There were two of most volatile differences between various Protestant churches and the Catholic Church in the 16^th century. Like John Calvin, Zwingli declared that nothing “supernatural” took place during Communion and that it was merely a symbol of Christ’s presence at the Last Supper and of His ultimate sacrifice. 

 He disavowed the necessity of special services, believing that man’s one-on-one with God was enough, yet he also advocated strongly for church services that were based only on Scripture. Zwingli attempted to enforce morality, backed by the council of Zurich, and he established the Court of Morals. His personal beliefs and sentiments were outlined in the “67 Articles” of 1523.

So, what shaped Zwingli the man as opposed to Zwingli the reformer? There were a few defining moments in his life that may have served to make him the person he became. He grew up with eight brothers and sisters, a fact which although it may not have shaped his future life and theology, must have been challenging! In 1506 he became a Catholic priest. His ascent to Protestantism was slow and certainly unexpected in the first few years of his life. As a reward for helping to defend Roman principles against France and other dreaded opponents, he received a pension from the pope. His defense of Protestant principles would come far in the future. Seeing the exhortations of reformers such as Martin Luther, he would eventually be driven to do the same.

 

In 1519, at age thirty-five, Zurich, Zwingli’s current home, was ravaged by the plague. Such diseases were sudden and terrible in the 16^th century. The sheer randomness of death for most and recovery for a few was beyond frightening, yet, a firm Christian, Zwingli seemingly showed little fear for his own impending doom. No one but God knows why and how the reformer recovered when his friends were dropping like flies. 

Ulrich Zwingli’s family life was complicated. In 1522, after a controversy that involved widow Anna Reinhard, he took Anna as his wife. He became the father of four children. The 1520s and 1530s were full of conflict as he fought restrictions and refused to completely agree with any of his Protestant contemporaries. If you compare his doctrine with other doctrines popularized in the 16^th century, you might come to the conclusion that Ulrich Zwingli was a cross between Martin Luther and John Calvin . . . like Calvin, as said, he believed that Communion was symbolic, but unlike Calvin, he did not subscribe to theories such as election and predestination. Likewise, he admired Luther but often found himself ill-at-odds with him.

Time went on. Zwingli and the Lutherans refused an alliance. Neither one could tolerate the Anabaptists, while the Catholics saw all three groups as heretics and rebels. Entire Swiss cities and states took up arms against each other. This resulted in the First Kappel War. In October 1531 Ulrich Zwingli was wounded in battle. Injured and unable to speak, he bore the mistreatment of his enemies. One does not desire to picture what hardships must have been placed upon his shoulders. They demanded that he confess and recant. He refused with all the spur-of-the-moment courage to which Protestants of the 16^th century had become so accustomed. “Die, then, stiff-necked heretic,” said his executioner, and the words were turned into deeds.

The world still marks his passing.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

June 24, 2012

The Siege of Sommières, French Wars of Religion: 1573

The village has such a pretty name: Sommières. But the French Wars of Religion, part of which took place at this very site, were far from pretty. Sommières gained historical fame between the months of February and April 1573, when the Huguenots gathered within the walls were besieged by Catholic troops of the royal army. 

So why Sommières, and why 1573? French Protestants were still reeling from the horrific St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre that began in August 1572. Their world had crumbled beneath their feet; it seemed there was nowhere to run. They understood that their ability to defend and protect Huguenot-run cities was their only hope of survival. Henri I de Montmorency, the Marshal of Damville, led the attack against the Protestants. It is interesting to note that there were various times he was accused of Protestant leanings or of sympathizing with the beleaguered Huguenots.

The Huguenots had a rather creative way to repel attackers. Reminiscent of the Middle Ages, they employed boiling oil, a medieval trick that was quickly falling out of fashion. The siege ended in early April 1573. The Huguenots were defeated. Their enemies lost over 2,000 men. The village was almost completely obliterated. If you travel to Sommières in the present day, you can see the ruins of Bistoure Tower, which met its end during the siege.

 It is intriguing --- and refreshing --- to note that in April 1573 the Calvinist defenders were allowed to march honorably out of Sommières, if not in victory then in the triumph of retaining their honor and their lives. It must have been bittersweet to raise their banners, hold their weapons high, and sing their own war-songs without overt opposition from their opponents. The Huguenots were accustomed to much degradation but little respect. Did they sing the battle-hymns, I wonder? 

We will never know.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

June 23, 2012

The Church of England: A Reformation Faith With a Different Story

I have often wondered if it is entirely true that the Church of England was founded mostly so Henry VIII could divorce his current wife. That may not have been the only reason, but it was certainly a big one. Henry was no longer interested in Catherine of Aragon and had his eye on Anne Boleyn. Long story short, since Pope Clement VII would not cater to Henry by allowing a divorce, Henry took matters in his own hands (as he is famous for doing) and pulled strings until he could do exactly as he pleased. From this whole mess of political engineering came the “Church of England,” setting the foundation for England becoming one of Europe’s most well-known Protestant nations throughout the 1500s and 1600s.

Of course, the Reformation would have most assuredly come to England even if Henry VIII had not stepped forward. Those “newfound” ideas were already spreading rapidly through Europe during Henry’s divorce quandary. Yet it was not until the days of Edward VI (Henry’s son) that the Church of England began to take on a Protestant flavor melded with the Lutheran doctrines flowing across the sea from Germany. During the reign of Elizabeth I, England became known as Europe’s powerful Protestant power in contrast to the power and might of Catholic Spain.

So this got me thinking: If Henry VIII had *not* instituted the Church of England and had allowed the flow of Reformation ideas to permeate England naturally, Calvinism, which the Puritans later adopted, might have become the religion of the state. If this had happened, and Calvinism / Puritanism would have become the official faith, the Puritans would have had no reason to come to America in the early 1600s to seek religious freedom. And, if they had not come to America, and Jamestown was the only successful English colony, perhaps England’s “empire” in America would have been impossible. That would have made moot the American Revolution, the War of 1812, and so forth. Domino effects are fascinating to ponder.

The Reformation did indeed have an unusual progression. In Germany it came about due to exploitation and corruption that Martin Luther saw as detrimental to the Catholic Church. His protests eventually formed the Lutheran denomination and paved the way for Reformers like John Calvin who also broke from Rome on moral grounds. The Anabaptist church began with those who did not believe the Reformation had reformed and purified enough. And, as mentioned, the Church of England began in part so Henry VIII could marry Anne Boleyn. The good Lord understood that Europe had a need for these Reformation doctrines, but one must think that He certainly had a sense of humor!

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

June 22, 2012

The Power of Scripture

Pondering the tremendous importance of the Bible throughout the course of the Protestant Reformation and throughout the lives of its descendants, I really enjoyed the following poem I discovered while reading up on Fanny Crosby. I particularly love it because, as a Protestant Christian who truly believes in ‘Christ alone’ and ‘Scripture alone,’ I feel it sums up the defining principle of the Reformation very well:

“Blessed Bible”

Fanny Crosby

Blessed Bible, Book of Gold,

Precious truths thy pages hold,

Truths to lead me day by day

All along my pilgrim way.

Refrain

Blessed Bible, pure and true,

Guide me all my journey through;

Heav’nly light within me shine,

Help me make thy precepts mine!

Lamp of faith, my feet to lead,

Bread of Heav’n, my soul to feed;

Living waters pure and free,

Book of books thou art to me.

Word of God, thy love impart,

Fire my zeal, and cleanse my heart;

Keep me earnest, keep me true,

Ev’ry day my strength renew.

I'm off to read my "Book of Gold"! God bless.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved