September 21, 2012

Cuius Regio, Eius Religio: Why My Ancestors Left Germany

The reason that Germany, then known as the Holy Roman Empire, escaped widespread religious wars might be because of the following principle: Cuius Regio, Eius Religio. “Whose region, his religion.” It was a simple concept . . . in 1555, when the law was passed, Germany was divided into smaller regions ruled by princes. Whatever faith the prince of a particular territory held, that would be the only official --- and permitted --- religion in his sphere of influence. In theory it worked, but people were not and have never been cookie cutters.

It was difficult in those times to just pack up and move to another territory so your faith could be accommodated. Hard-working families could not bear to leave their mills, vineyards, and farms behind. So if you were Lutheran and your prince was Catholic, you might expect to be harassed --- or worse --- until you could somehow move to a Lutheran territory. Some were especially beleaguered by this new law. Calvinists, Anabaptists, and other splinter groups were not in the mix, so if your family happened to adhere to those beliefs, you would be hard-pressed to find a place to live at all. Over time, Germans grew tired of this hassle and decided it was a better bet to move to a place where Cuius Regio, Eius Religio was an unknown concept. They chose the beautiful “New World” currently being colonized by grand old England.

And the rest is history.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

September 20, 2012

The Attack on Fort Caroline, French Florida . . . Always Remember

The date was September 20^th, 1565. The Great Siege of Malta had ended only nineteen days earlier. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, was about to reach the ripe old age of five months. St. Augustine, Florida, the “Nation’s Oldest City,” was celebrating its twelfth day of life. William Shakespeare was nearly seventeen months old. It had been nineteen months since the death of the celebrated Michelangelo. September 20^th was a “day that would live in infamy” for its brutalized residents, but a day that went sadly unnoticed throughout the rest of the world.

On the 19^th of September, Fort de la Caroline, a French Protestant colony on the banks of the Riviere de Mai or St. Johns River in wild sixteenth century Florida, must not have looked like much to the untrained eye. It was rather small, flimsy, and ill-defended, and recent hurricane rains had caused significant damage.  Yet to the inhabitants it represented life in so many ways. First, it protected them from the outside world, from marauding natives, wild animals, ravaging weather, and Spanish conquistadors who bayed for their blood. Second, it was a bastion of dreams, of religious freedom, of hope of a new life.

When the 20^th dawned, that ramshackle fort on which so many lives were staked was soon to be an ugly memory. The raid came without warning. Frenchmen slept exhaustedly after days of gale-force winds and unstoppable torrents. They sprawled out in tents, cottages, and makeshift hammocks. Children slept close to their mothers’ sides, and men in nightshirts, discarding the demands of the militia to play civilian even if just temporarily, guarded their families. “Butchers and bakers and candle-stick makers” slept and dreamed of equality.

Then the Spanish came.

It was a grossly-unmatched fight. Few Frenchmen managed to grab weapons, and women and children sought shelter while their husbands and fathers helplessly fought off the conquistadors. There had been no time to dress, no time to put on armor. The Spanish were fighting an ‘army’ of soldiers in nightshirts. The fight lasted only thirty minutes, and when that time had elapsed, a barren wasteland of nightmares emerged where a fresh new land of dreams had so recently existed. Most of the men were killed outright. The women and children were taken prisoner and hustled away to places unknown; their fates were never recorded. And little La Caroline, the pride and joy of her settlers despite her ramshackle state, somberly flew the Spanish flag.

Today let us remember the dead --- and the dreams that could never be.

Other posts about the subject:

March 29, 2012 (Fort Caroline pilgrimage)

April 19, 2012 (The women of Fort Caroline)

April 26, 2012 (Fort Caroline virtual tour)

July 17, 2012 (French Huguenots in Florida from beginning to end)

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

September 19, 2012

When I wrote about my Huguenot 9^th-great grandmother two days past, I wanted to find a hymn that embodied the courage and faith that our Protestant immigrant ancestors so bravely showed by the grace of God. I also wanted to paint a picture of how they struggled with persecution daily. The following song, written in 1914, captures the spirit well.

O Church of God Triumphant

E. M. Bangs

O Church of God, triumphant

O’er human doubts and fears,

Which in the faith of ages

Comes marching thro’ the years;

Baptized with blood of martyrs,

With conflicts dearly won,

Beset with persecutions,

Yet ever marching on.

Refrain

O Church of God, triumphant,

With conflicts dearly won,

Beset with persecution,

Yet ever marching on.

With backward look we see thee,

Thy scattered members few;

We see thee struggling ever

Their courage to renew;

Strong amid tribulation,

Uprising from each fall,

We see thee marching onward

Triumphant over all.

Refrain

O Church of God, triumphant,

With conflicts dearly won,

Beset with persecution,

Yet ever marching on.

O refuge of the nations,

On thee our hope is stayed;

Thy courage thro’ the ages

Shall keep us unafraid;

And with thy strength increasing

Till earthly years are past,

God help thee to march onward

Triumphant to the last.

Refrain

O Church of God, triumphant,

With conflicts dearly won,

Beset with persecution,

Yet ever marching on.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

September 18, 2012

1546: Death and Rebirth

What did the year 1546 mean for the Protestant world? In February, Martin Luther, that rough-around-the-edges, heartfelt, seasoned theologian, had thrown off the trappings of persecution to enter into eternal rest with the Savior he had championed. Without Luther one might think that the “new thought” would be crushed, that all looked bleak. But the wheels of change had already been turning so boldly and proudly that there was no stopping the Reformation now. Many other men and women had taken up Luther’s cause. The year 1546, though it may have seemed uneventful enough on the outside, sported a great many events that could have changed the course of history in one way or another.

For instance, in June, England and France, longtime rivals (despite copying each other at court) reconciled during the ‘Italian War’ with the Treaty of Ardres. Such concessions, no matter how small, gave Europe a break, because everyone knew that warring countries meant heartache even for those who were not directly involved. Yet in July, the Schmalkaldic War began in Germany. The name of this obscure war kept coming up while I was studying Martin Luther, and I had no idea what it was about. Apparently it was a religious war fought between Holy Roman Emperor Charles the Fifth’s army and the Lutheran princes. The name ‘Schmalkaldic’ comes from the ‘Schmalkaldic League,’ headed by the Lutheran faction. This short war ended only a year later but further separated Germany’s Protestants and Catholics.

Also in 1546, George Wishart, Scottish martyr, died for refusing to pledge allegiance to Catholic doctrines. The date was March 01^st. He was a friend of John Calvin and was known as a Scottish Protestant hero. Anne Askew (see post of March 20^th) was burned for her Protestant beliefs on July 16^th. To delve more into the Italian War mentioned above, France, whose king had committed the ultimate “unforgiveable sin” by siding with Ottoman Emperor Suleiman, butted heads with England and the Holy Roman Empire. Interestingly enough, at this time, France, who hated Protestantism and had thoroughly persecuted believers, was begging for intervention from a good many Protestants in Germany.

So 1546 was a busy year, for better and for worse. And it was certainly far from dull.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

September 17, 2012

To my Huguenot 9^th-Great Grandmother

Dear unnamed lady: You must have been a strong and amazing woman. First of all, you were a French Protestant of the seventeenth century, which was in itself a feat of bravery. Second of all, you were married to a Protestant, and intended to raise a child in your faith. It would have been easy for you to abjure the faith at any time, to take a stab at a “normal” life with all the rights and privileges your nation allowed those of the Catholic religion.

Whether or not you were personally touched by the king’s dragoons billeting in your home or the violence that often accompanied such bullying, you certainly knew those who were. You must have looked upon the complete lack of personal rights as a grief and fear too heavy to bear. You were considered a traitor to your king simply for adhering to the faith that was so near and dear to your heart. And of course, your little son, so very young, was in danger of being snatched away from your arms and raised in a monastery, brought up to abhor the same doctrines you have so lovingly taught.

I do not know your name, your background, your station in life, or if you had any other children. I assume not, or at least they have never been mentioned. You must have been sick with dread when, after escaping to Switzerland, your husband and the father of your child was detained and you were forced to go on ahead. But you never gave up . . . if you had, if you had lain down and died, if you had fallen plague to fear and gone back to France in the hopes of conversion, everything might have changed --- for the worse.

Instead, you pushed forward, and eventually felt the joy of seeing your husband again. Unnamed grandmother, I would love to have known you, for it is obvious you shared the same beloved principles of Scripture, faith, and truth as I do, that you revered Christ, admired the Reformation, and were strong and brave enough to even leave your homeland so you might believe freely.  

Readers, if you have Huguenot ancestors, stop and think about them. They were courageous and intrepid folk, risking everything to emigrate, facing not only physical dangers but the mental stresses of learning a new language, a new culture, and a new way of life. They could have succumbed and given into the norm just to have a “regular” life, but their faith, their interpretation of God and His commands, meant more to them than life itself.

What a proud heritage we claim!

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

September 16, 2012

The Munster Rebellion of 1534

As Anabaptists were the forerunners of modern-day Amish and Mennonites, they were a peaceful folk, disavowing war and political intrigue, seeking a very simple life. Yet in 1534 there were quite a few breakaway Anabaptists who believed, as their Calvinist and Lutheran brethren did, that force and rebellion was sometimes necessary to implement change in the local government. Thus began Germany’s Munster Rebellion. Many of these men equated the “New Jerusalem” with this old and venerable city --- though only they knew why.

  

This is where the story gets strange . . . and unexpected. Jan Matthys, a fanatical Anabaptist, recruited a handful of “holy soldiers” and stormed Munster, which, of course, did not go very well. He and his followers were slaughtered mercilessly. However, another man did succeed, and granted himself absolute power. His name was John of Leiden. Now, this was not the sort of man with whom ordinary Anabaptists wanted to identify. He, too, was a fanatic, but his polygamous personal life and insistence on absolute authority convinced foreign Anabaptists exactly what they should not strive to accomplish. John of Leiden was eventually convicted by the magistrates of Munster and was killed for his rebellion.  

Despite all this odd warfare, which lasted two years, there was a positive side: Anabaptists took note of the violence and bloodlust that offshoots such as Leiden and Matthys possessed, and when Menno Simons emerged as an eminent leader and preached mercy and peacekeeping, his words were duly heeded. He determined that the Anabaptists would cease being known for military force. Partially due to his influence, many gladly adopted the peaceful and amiable stance for which the Amish and Mennonites are known today. They had seen that they, too, were subject to the unattractiveness of minds gone astray. No religion is or was perfect . . . every Protestant denomination has its share of “black sheep.” What matters is that ill-gotten ideas were put away and Christ took highest precedence. 

Amen to that.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved

September 15, 2012

The Edict of Amboise: March 18, 1563

Hard-pressed as they were, France’s Protestant community often received concessions that Protestants in other countries did not . . . they were often given edicts, which, though rarely fair to the Huguenot community, were designed to prevent warfare and overt bloodshed. One such edict was the 1563 “Edict of Amboise.” The event that triggered it was a tragic one, or rather, two. Troubles began in March 1562 with the massacre of Vassy (see post of August 30^th) and the subsequent War of Religion.

In a bold move, queen mother Catherine de’ Medici, acting on behalf of her underage son, bestowed lukewarm religious freedom upon the Huguenots in the hopes that doing so would restore peace. The Edict of Amboise was rather liberal for the day, as Protestant nobility had the liberty of practicing their faith in the comfort of their homes without being subject to outside inquiries. For the benefit of common people, only certain townships were designated as “Protestants welcome.” (On second thought, “welcome” is too generous a word for the 16^th century. One ought to say “Protestants tolerated only because the queen mother decreed it so.”) Paris stepped up and declared the Edict of Amboise an abomination, unwilling to grant such concessions even in the face of possible warfare.

There were various smaller events that took place as a consequence of the Edict of Amboise. For example, the Protestant Louis de Condé, a principle player in the War of Religion, was freed from captivity. He and others must have been wary of those who honored the peace only under great protest. Paris was not the only city that refused the edict. The majority of France was still unwilling to accept Protestants as Christian counterparts, and Rouen, Toulouse, and Dijon also bitterly decried the Edict of Amboise. Thankfully the document was eventually passed in every province. Those who had opposed it bitterly soon reaped the benefits of the edict, for there was no warfare until 1567. Even such a small handful of years free from bloodshed were a blessing in a time when religious conflicts began at the drop of a hat.

(c) 2012 Joyously Saved