The truth is invincible because its strength comes from God. Despite its seeming defeats, it always emerges triumphant.
Non licet tibi” — “It is not lawful for you” (Mk 6:18). These weighty words of the Forerunner resounded in the ears of Herod Antipas, reminding him how displeasing to God was his incestuous union with Herodias, the wife of his brother Philip.
When, at Salome’s request, the lips of St. John the Baptist were definitively silenced by the executioner’s sword, it could be conjectured that these recriminations had come to an end. But instead, the villainous king lived out his days tormented by the memory of the prophet who continued to admonish him: “Non licet tibi”!
This Gospel passage provides a paradigmatic example of the fight between good and evil on earth. On one side is the adulterous king: proud, sensual and egotistic, fighting to satisfy his vices and interests; on the other, a soul of invincible integrity, ready to defend the Law of God at the price of his own blood. The former apparently triumphed; but in reality, neither prison nor the gallows could silence the power of the truth fearlessly proclaimed by the just.
More than a millennium after this episode, the Church having civilized nations and established its spiritual influence over them, a strong, serene voice like that of the Forerunner was heard in England, reminding a tyrannical king of the limitations of royal power: that of St. Thomas Becket.
A battle begins
It was October 1, 1163. King Henry II had convoked a synod in Westminster Abbey to debate questions concerning the government of the Church in England. The monarch was at odds with the privilegium fori of the clergy, and furthermore, would not accept that his subjects could be excommunicated without royal consent. He additionally required that other prerogatives enjoyed by his Norman predecessors be restored.
The bishops were unanimous regarding the impossibility of yielding to the demands of the sovereign. But who would rise up to confront him? The difficult task fell to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Primate of England.
Thomas Becket, who only a short time before was the Royal Chancellor and great friend of Henry II, took on the grave responsibility. At an opportune moment, he arose and explained to the king the independence of spiritual power from temporal power, spoke of the sacred character of the priesthood and finally reaffirmed the ancient rights belonging to the bishops to judge and punish members of the clergy.
The monarch became furious. Cutting the prelate short, he demanded that everyone unconditionally accept the proposals he had put forth. St. Thomas Becket replied that they would obey salvo ordine suo, that is, to the degree that the norms dictated by him were licit for a cleric. Upon hearing this, the king angrily withdrew, without another word.
Harmony between the two powers
The dispute between the English bishops and their monarch was not uncommon in those turbulent times. The boundaries between temporal and spiritual powers, established by Christ Himself—“Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” (Mt 22:21)—were not yet well-defined, resulting in frequent and complex conflicts.
The Church is a visible society, made up of men, and many sovereigns of that era claimed the right to appoint bishops, legislate the internal organization of the Bride of Christ, dispose of its revenues or freely govern the members of the clergy, ignoring the fact that they are sacred persons.
It is precisely the independence from civil power that allows the Church to carry out its beneficent work for society, creating conditions that make the world more pleasant and habitable, and illuminating the temporal power—sovereign in its own sphere—with a celestial light that elevates, consolidates and ennobles it.
The Church needs the State to act upon society, but the latter will never fully achieve its goal if it is not in perfect harmony with the Church. As a consequence of the harmony between the spiritual and temporal powers, God is best served when Caesar behaves as his child; and Caesar is never so great as when he is the child of God.
This was the great truth behind the Archbishop of Canterbury’s position, which the proud King Henry did not want to accept.
Unacceptable conditions
Becoming aware of the event in Westminster, Pope Alexander III sent messengers to St. Thomas Becket, recommending that he seek an agreement with the king for the sake of the Church’s peace. The monarch, with wounded ego, demanded a public retraction before all the bishops and barons of the kingdom.
Clarendon Palace, near Salisbury, was the site chosen for this meeting, which took place January 13, 1164, in an atmosphere charged with displays of anger on the part of the king and threats from the barons. Wanting to establish the foundations of his dominion over the Church for once and for all, the sovereign ordered a complete list be drawn up of the precepts which he intended to impose. It was the infamous Constitutions of Clarendon, composed of sixteen articles.
The Archbishop was astonished when he read the text. Some of the articles ascribed to royal power decisions that until then were under the jurisdiction of ecclesiastical authority, while others infringed on the Church’s freedom. For example, the bishops’ departure from the kingdom would be contingent on the sovereign’s approval. They would also require authorization from Henry II to excommunicate any high official of the king. In ecclesiastical cases, they could not appeal to the Pope as a last resort. When an Episcopal See or abbacy became vacant it would fall under the power of the sovereign. He would receive all its revenues and goods until the new titular head—whose election would take place in the royal chapel, with the king’s consent—took possession. The new bishop or abbot would then swear allegiance to the king as a vassal.
The Primate of England could by no means accept these constitutions which so subjugated the spiritual power to the temporal. Only five of the sixteen articles, regarding the civil government, were in fact acceptable, and were later admitted by the Pope.
The Council of Northampton
Nevertheless, the king did not see things this way. Determined to submit the Church to his demands, he decreed the ruin of the man who dared to oppose them. He accused him of false juridical and financial statements, as well as perjury for not accepting the Constitutions of Clarendon, which he had promised to accept without knowledge of their content. The Archbishop was summoned to appear before the court gathered in Northampton, in October of 1164.
In face of the unexpected accusations, the Archbishop asked of Henry II time to consult with his brothers in the episcopate and to prepare his defence. “Act fearlessly,” his confessor, Robert of Merton, told him, “you have chosen God’s service rather than the king’s. Continue to do so, and God will not fail you.” 1
Thomas Becket understood the full extent of the battle in which he was engaged, and was ready to see it to the end. Most of the bishops, however, fearing to fall into the sovereign’s disfavour, insisted that the Primate yield to the king and resign his office.
Nevertheless, acting in virtue of his primacy, the Archbishop of Canterbury prohibited the bishops from taking part in any judgement that might unfold, and ordered them to excommunicate anyone who used violence against him.
He appeared, then, at Northampton Castle where, after he had presented his defence, the king met with the Council to decide his fate. Seated in another room, Thomas Becket calmly awaited the sentence.
According to one respected biographer, the Archbishop was likely sentenced to perpetual imprisonment. “But the verdict was never declared, for when a deputation came downstairs to deliver it, the task was passed around without acceptance.” 2
Six years of exile and negotiations
Seeing that his downfall had been decreed, St. Thomas Becket decided to flee the country. On a rainy night, after several mishaps, he finally crossed the English Channel and took refuge in France, where King Louis VII respectfully welcomed him.
He soon made his way to Sens, where Pope Alexander III was temporarily located. The Pope received him with great kindness, approved of his conduct and reaffirmed the condemnation of the Constitutions of Clarendon. He also granted him the habit of the Cistercians, which he greatly desired, and the Archbishop went to reside in Pontigny Abbey, where he partook in the frugal life of the Cistercian monks and resumed his theological studies, especially of Sacred Scripture.
As the next six years unfold, complex diplomatic negotiations and attempts at reconciliation took place, some initiated by the Pontiff, others by the king of France. Reaching an accord would not be easy because, as St. Thomas wrote to the Pope, if the demands of the English monarch were to prevail, “the authority of the apostolic see in England would disappear altogether or be reduced almost to nothing.” 3
Henry II, for his part, recognized that if he continued with his policy of opposition to the Church, he would suffer canonical sanctions. “I know they will put an interdict on my realm, but cannot I, who can take a fortress a day, catch a cleric if he interdicts my land?” 4 he asked a Papal legate.
The fear of God had not yet been entirely extinguished in Henry’s soul and at long last, after countless warnings from the Supreme Pontiff, he resolved to make an accord with the Archbishop, authorizing him to return to his diocese. There was, however, no kiss of peace on the part of the king.
Return to the homeland
On December 2, 1170, the people of Canterbury received their beloved Pastor with a triumphal welcome. However, he was convinced that this peace would not last. As St. Augustine teaches, “peace is the tranquillity of order.” 5 If the order established by the laws of God and the Church do not prevail, true peace cannot exist.
On the following day, three messengers arrived at Canterbury on behalf of Archbishop Roger of York, Archbishop Gilbert of London and Archbishop Jocelyn of Salisbury, requesting the revocation of the excommunication weighing upon them, for having proceeded with the coronation ceremony of the king’s son, in direct opposition to the express prohibition of the Archbishop Primate and the Vicar of Christ. Thomas responded that a penalty imposed by the Pope could only be lifted by the Pope.
This response rekindled the wrath of Henry II, already disturbed by the heartfelt reception given by the people to their legitimate prelate. Hostility against the Archbishop grew within the royal court. A biographer of Thomas Becket recounts that the king, consumed by rage, incited his courtesans with phrases such as this: “What a set of idle cowards I keep in my kingdom who allow me to be mocked so shamefully by a low-born cleric.” 6 Some among them decided to heed him…
On the afternoon of December 29, four knights presented themselves at Canterbury “on behalf of the king” and were received by the Archbishop in a room adjacent to the cathedral. One of them belligerently questioned the prelate regarding his refusal to absolve the excommunicated clerics and monks.
“The sentence was not mine, but the Pope’s. Let those concerned go to the Pope for absolution,” Thomas replied.
“I am telling you what the king says: You have been mad enough to excommunicate his officers.”
At these words, concerning the anathemas decreed by St. Thomas against those barons who had appropriated diocesan lands, the Archbishop rose and replied:
“I will strike anyone who violates the right of the Roman See or the Church of Christ.”
The triumph of truth
The furious knights withdrew to retrieve their weapons, while some monks and servants of the fearless prelate, seeing his great danger, managed with difficulty to persuade him to go to the cathedral.
It was the time for the singing of Vespers and the church was filled with faithful. After the procession of the monks and the holy Archbishop, the armed knights angrily entered and, with swords drawn, rushed upon the prelate.
“Absolve the bishops!”one of them shouted.
They then attacked the defenceless minister of God, the first sword-blow falling upon Thomas’ shoulders, and the subsequent ones striking his head. His cross-bearer, in an attempt to deviate one of the blows with his arm, sustained a deep wound that cut through the very bone. On his knees, the martyr exclaimed: “I am ready to die for my Lord. May my blood ensure the liberty of the Church and peace.” 7 One last blow left him dead and prostrate on the ground, with his arms extended, as in prayer.
Had everything come to nought?
Far from it! The same power of truth that led John the Baptist to triumph over Herod Antipas would once again be victorious. The tomb of Thomas Becket became a centre of pilgrimage, and among the innumerable devotees who flocked to his sepulchre was Henry II, who, after asking pardon from the Pope and renouncing the Constitutions of Clarendon, went to Canterbury to implore forgiveness from the holy martyr.
The power of truth is invincible. Error and evil derive their dynamism from human nature weakened by sin and allied with the devil. However, the strength of truth comes from something infinitely superior: God Himself. He never refuses His grace to those who fight in His name. Thus, no matter how apparent the defeat of truth may seem, it always triumphs in the end, for its source is God Who is eternal and immortal. ◊
Notes
1 KNOWLES, David. Thomas Becket. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1970, p. 96.
2 Idem, p.98.
3 Idem, p.121.
4 Idem, p.124.
5 ST. AUGUSTINE. City of God. XIX, 13.
6 KNOWLES, op.cit., p.139.
7 AUBE, Pierre. Thomas Becket. Madrid: Palabra, 1994, p.334.
