In the end, repentance, not love, has come to symbolise Cranmer himself, his life’s work being interpreted by his last days. In the eyes of his critics, Cranmer’s recantations prove that at best he was weak and vacillating. In the hearts of his admirers, however, Cranmer’s last-minute renunciation of his recantations proved his true commitment to the Protestant faith. But what of Cranmer himself, how did he interpret his last days and the meaning they gave to his life? According to a contemporary account, having previously been distraught, Cranmer came to the stake with a cheerful countenance and willing mind.
Fire being now put to him, he stretched out his right Hand, and thrust it into the Flame, and held it there a good space, before the Fire came to any other Part of his Body; where his Hand was seen of every Man sensibly burning, crying with a loud Voice, This Hand hath offended. As soon as the Fire got up, he was very soon Dead, never stirring or crying all the while.
His Catholic executioners surely thought Cranmer was making satisfaction to his Protestant God. Yet his doctrine of repentance would have taught him otherwise, for the God he served saved the unworthy.
Vintage Ashley Null stuff, insightful and edifying. Although I’m no lover of Protestantism or Puritanism as Null is, I too admire much about Thomas Crnamer and thank God for his life and costly witness to the truth of the Gospel, as Cranmer was given to understand it.
FWIW, I myself keep the feastdays of six of the heroic English martyrs of the Reformation era. Every fall I observe gratefully the feast of Hugh Latimer and Nicolaus Ridley on October 16th, and on this day in March I keep the feast of Thomas Cranmer, prizing especially his matchless genius as a drafter of eloquent liturgies. But I also feel free as an Anglican to keep the feast of three Catholic martyrs on the other side. With equal devotion and gratitude to God, I keep the feast of Thomas More on July 6th, as well as that of Bishop John Fisher on June 22nd (both put to death by Henry VIII in 1535 for treason). I even keep the feast of Edmund Campion on December 1st (along with Nicklaus Ferrar), the greatest of the Jesuit recusant martyrs (put to death by Elizabeth in 1581, also for treason).
All six men were men of courage, faith, and ardent zeal, on fire with love for Christ and his Church. Such men, willing to suffer and die for their Master, are worthy of honor, whether Protestant or Catholic. At least, this Anglican feels free to honor both sets of martyrs.
David Handy+
Many thanks, Dr Handy, for your words (complementing Dr Null’s); they seem especially apt coming from one known as New Reformation Advocate, and they surely bespeak a divinely enabled, rather than humanly contrived, approach to reconciliation of the kind possible only over a long time and at great cost. You prompt a personal reminiscence of my own. Edmund Campion — along with (ironically enough!) 39 other Reformation-era Roman Catholics — was canonized by Pope Paul VI in 1970. Before becoming a Jesuit and eventually being executed for treason in 1581, Campion had been a student, and then Junior Fellow, at St John’s College, Oxford, and had been ordained as an Anglican in 1569. Shortly thereafter he aligned himself with Rome and the recusants, eventually at the cost of his life. When in 1970 the 40 so-called English Martyrs were canonized, I was serving as Chaplain-Student (chaplain in residence) at St. John’s. The President of the College (a position held in the early 17th century by William Laud) was the Anglican layman and ecumenically minded mediaevalist Richard Southern. We invited Father Edward Yarnold, Master of the Jesuit community in Oxford (whose Hall was named for Campion in 1918) and a member of ARCIC I, to be the first Roman Catholic priest to celebrate the liturgy in the College Chapel since the reign of Queen Mary I; he wore vestments preserved by the College since Laud’s tenure as President. Dick Southern preached, drawing on St Anselm of Canterbury as a source of doctrinal common ground and exponent of communal Christian friendship at a deep level. Following the service, a more secular expression of our mutual yearning for reconciliation was held in Hall, drawing from the depths of the College wine cellar!
You’re welcome, William.
Thanks in turn for sharing that marvelous anecdote. I’ve never heard that moving story about Fr. Yarnold and St. John’s, Oxford. May the Lord hasten the day when there will be one flock, under one shepherd, on earth as in heaven.
David Handy+