Church of St Thomas More
Our Patron Saint
St. Thomas More was born in 1478, the son of a prominent judge. Torn between a monastic calling and a life of civil service, he entered Parliament in 1504, eventually becoming Speaker of the House and then Lord Chancellor. He helped establish the parliamentary privilege of free speech. He refused to endorse Henry VIII’s plan to divorce Katherine of Aragon and did not attend the coronation of Anne Boleyn. He also refused to swear to the Act of Succession and the Oath of Supremacy. Henry found him guilty of treason and he was beheaded in 1535. He was canonised in 1935.
Expand the two boxes below for two articles by Patrick Rennison about St Thomas More’s life and times and his imprisonment in the Tower of London.
Life and Times
Of all England’s saints, Sir Thomas More is one whose appearance and character is best known to us. There are the portrait and sketches by the great German artist Hans Holbein and we have lively first hand accounts of his life and personality by More’s own son-in-law Roper and his friend the scholar Erasmus. There are, also, More’s own writings, especially his letters so lovingly preserved by friends and relations. According to a Times editorial on the 500th anniversary of his birth “if the English people were to set a test to justify their history and civilization by the example of one man then it is Sir Thomas More whom they would perhaps choose.” We may think of him in the same breath as “greats” such as Churchill, King Alfred, Queen Elizabeth I, or Nelson. His Englishness shines through – his dry, ironic sense of humour, his practical business interests, love of family and friends (and pets), the pleasure he got from his country home and gardens on the river at Chelsea, and his passion for truth and justice combined with an innate humility.
We may feel we live in uniquely different times; our Christian faith and heritage under threat, not only from outside but also from within the so-called “establishment”; those educators, administrators, politicians and the media who set aside Christian beliefs as of no consequence, nothing more than a personal whim. But if we feel under threat, what about the turmoil which overtook Christendom in Tudor times? Then too, Islam was threatening the very existence of European Christendom and the faith itself was divided and crumbling as the doctrines of Luther and the Reformers gnawed away at the basics of ordinary peoples’ beliefs.
It was in this climate that King Henry VIII, in his desperate bid for a male heir, divorced his queen, Catherine of Aragon, in favour of Anne Boleyn and in the process set himself in direct opposition to the Pope to the extent that he had himself declared “Supreme Head of the Church and Clergy in England”, denial of which was made treasonable. With a handful of exceptions (e.g. St John Fisher) the church hierarchy caved in to Henry’s bullying and accepted the King’s self-appointed role.
At this time Sir Thomas More was one of the most respected lay figures in Europe: an eminent lawyer, businessman, MP, Speaker of the House of Commons, diplomat, Lord Chancellor, international scholar and author renowned for his wit, learning and, above all, his honesty. No wonder the king wanted More’s support, but he pointedly refused to give it. He declined to attend Henry’s wedding and, after much deliberation, refused to take the Oath required by law acknowledging Henry as Head of the Church, knowing full well that this could lead to his execution as a traitor.
Thomas More was consigned to the Tower of London in April 1534, but steadfastly refused to take the Oath and eventually was beheaded on Tower Hill in July 1535, declaring he was “the King’s good servant, but God’s first”.
Here was a man who was humane, wise and witty, undeviatingly honest in his dealings as a lawyer and judge, beloved husband, father and friend, but with so firm a conscience he would rather die than bow to a ruthless dictator on a matter of faith. No wonder he has been honoured not only within the Roman Catholic Church, but by all denominations and by non-Christians. Today, on Cheyne Walk in Chelsea near Battersea Bridge on the edge of what was then his estate there stands a fine statue dedicated by representatives of the Catholic, Anglican and Free Churches, and the Speaker of the House of Commons, to “Sir Thomas More 1478-1535, Scholar, statesman, Saint”. At the feet of the seated figure, reproduced in gilt, is his signature. Simply putting that signature to the Oath would have saved his life, but he could not betray his faith and conscience.
Imprisonment in the Tower
Roper records More’s quiet response “Is not this house as nigh heaven as my own?” But his family’s inability to understand him must have weighed very heavily on him in the long hours of solitude. As a young man he had been drawn to the life of the London Charterhouse where the monks lived lives of silent contemplation and although he had opted for the life of a busy lawyer and family man, he had remained a deeply spiritual person spending much time in daily prayer.
He was also a close reader of Holy Scripture, the Church Fathers (if only his lectures on St Augustine had survived!) and of devotional works such as Thomas a Kempis and The Cloud of Unknowing. Now he sought inner strength by composing works of meditation and prayer known collectively as The Tower Works.
The most substantial of these is Dialogue of Comfort which shows a man striving to prepare himself for death and provide consolation for his family. The work can be read on several levels. On the face of it, it records a conversation taking place in Christian Hungary under the threat of imminent invasion by the Muslim Turks. It also addresses the equally disturbing menace of internal dissension within the Christian world; the Reformation is as serious a threat to the Universal Church of Christ as the Turks. Thus far the book is a plea for a united Christendom. On another level it touches the dangerous subject of how far a Head of State may dictate the religious beliefs of his subjects (little wonder then that the precious manuscript sheets had to be smuggled out of the gaol bit by bit – in the women’s clothing or baskets). Ultimately though, the Dialogue is addressed to the author himself. How can he be sure that his stand against the King is not a manifestation of his own pride? How can he can be sure that he is not being tempted by the Devil or his demons? Had not Christ himself been subjected to temptations? How could he be sure he was not following illusions of the Devil rather than the true revelations of God? When we admire that fine portrait of More by Hans Holbein – so calm and at peace – let us also recall how he had to struggle quite alone against the demonic voices telling him he was the victim of spiritual pride. In the end the answer for More was a matter of placing his hope and trust in God’s assistance and the Dialogue closes with contemplation upon Christ’s own fear and His passion.
More had these two books bound together as works of private devotion which he had taken with him into the Tower and they stayed with him to the end. The prayer book was a Book of Hours containing woodcuts of Christ’s Life and Crucifixion and More has written a prayer in the space at the top and bottom of each page beginning: “Give me thy grace good lord to sett the world at nought, To set my mynd fast vppon thee”
More had exerted all his strength to save himself by means of the law. To actively seek out martyrdom might be an act of presumptuous pride in response to demonic temptations, but once he had been condemned (on perjured evidence by a hand-picked jury) he felt free to speak out in the knowledge that his death was God’s will. The English Parliament could not make a law against the law of the Universal Church, indeed the coronation oath itself swore to uphold the rights of the Church. Henry, in claiming Supremacy of the church in England, was acting beyond his powers. Even if the bishops of the realm had conformed to the King’s will there were all the holy saints, bishops and learned men of the past and present standing in opposition “and therefore I am not bound, my lord, to conform my conscience to the council of one realm against the General Council of Christendom.”
Patrick Rennison