Silly persons like to point out that every right Saint
Thomas died to defend was eventually recognized as being properly the purview
of the civil order, so that his death was — in their eyes — totally useless and
meaningless. Some even end up agreeing with Henry VIII Tudor, who put Saint Thomas on trial for high
treason post mortem, that the
Archbishop was a consummate villain who was trying to assert the supremacy of
the Church over the State . . . rather than the supremacy of the State over the
Church, as Henry Tudor did.
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| Henry II |
Again, that was never the point. What mattered was that
Henry II Plantagenet was claiming — by right — certain
privileges and immunities that the Church in England had always had, regardless how well or ill it
managed to defend them over the centuries. Henry did not make an argument or
present a case to support his contention. Like many people today, he simply
asserted it as self-evident. He wanted it, therefore it was his.
Archbishop Becket, however, knew that whether
the rights over which they struggled properly belonged to the Church or to the
State, they were — at present — recognized as belonging to the Church. Further,
Thomas knew Henry well enough to know that had the king managed to get his way
in this instance, he would soon begin encroaching in other areas as well —
areas that were not as gray as whether clergy accused of civil crimes should be
judged in a civil or Church court, the latter being the custom of centuries.
 |
| Thomas à Becket |
Thomas was well aware that surrendering in a minor matter
would mean surrendering as well such things as the power of clerical
appointments, and even the determination of doctrine. Truth would become a
political football, and sacrificed to expedience whenever it became
uncomfortable. Ultimately (as indeed proved to be the case under the Tudors),
the Church would become the State’s lackey, enforcing politically motivated
religious doctrine with the coercive power of the State.
 |
| Murder in the Cathedral |
What happened is well known. King Henry, a man with the
notoriously short Plantagenet temper, became so enraged at the stubbornness of
Archbishop Thomas and his refusal to act reasonably (i.e., to give Henry what he wanted) that he spoke words at a
banquet, probably without thinking of the power that the words of a powerful or
influential man often have over subordinates: “What sluggish knaves are these
of my kingdom! Is there not one that will rid me of this troublesome priest?”
Four knights took this as a royal command, and that very night crossed the
Channel to England, eventually murdering the
Archbishop.
The outcry was enormous and immediate throughout the whole
of Europe. Whether or not he consciously intended that anyone should act on his
intemperate utterance, Henry was held responsible for Thomas’ death — as,
indeed, he was. A public figure or journalist who openly and publicly advocates
anything — even in jest — is responsible for what happens when someone acts on
it. The newspaper reporter who published a map to the house of Medgar Evers and
hinted that he should be killed was as responsible for the murder as the man
who pulled the trigger. It is the equivalent of yelling, “Fire!” in a crowded
theater.
 |
| Guilty of Murder by Words |
Henry’s words — regardless whether or not the death of
Thomas was his intent — made the king guilty of murder. Only public penance
saved him from excommunication and loss of his throne. Even so, the sins of the
fathers are visited on the sons. When the Barons of England rose against King John, Henry’s son, they were
able to count on the help of Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, and
successor to Saint Thomas à Becket.
Nor could King John do very much about it. John certainly
made Archbishop Langton’s life miserable, but John had nowhere near the
popularity of his father or his brother, Richard the Lionheart. John could not
risk actually harming Stephen and creating another martyr. Consequently the
king was forced to accede to the Great Charter — Magna Charta — reaffirming the rights and privileges
recognized by his ancestor, Henry I Plantagenet, a century before. First and
foremost among these rights were, of course:
Have in
the first place granted to God, and confirmed by this our present charter, for
us and for our heirs forever,
That
the churches of England shall be free, and shall enjoy their rights
and franchises entirely and fully: and this our purpose is, that it be
observed, as may appear by our having granted, of our mere and free will, that
elections should be free (which is reputed to be a very great and very
necessary privilege of the churches of England) before the difference arose
betwixt us and our barons, and by our having confirmed the same by our charter,
and by our having procured it moreover to be confirmed by our lord the apostle
Innocent the third. Which privilege we will maintain: and our will is, that the
same be faithfully maintained by our heirs forever.
The Founding Fathers of the United States of America, based on this noble tradition,
also promised to protect the rights of Church against the encroachment of the
State, particularly the evil of any religion established as a State bureaucracy
or branch of the government. The reader may judge for himself how well the
United States has adhered to the clear intent of its Founding Fathers in this
and other matters.
