MICHAEL SERVETUS:
A UNITARIAN UNIVERSALIST SAINT?
October 27, 2002The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
This coming Friday is All Saints Day - an important celebration in the Christian Faith. And I've been remembering how important some of those Saints were in my early spiritual formation: St. Anne, of course, mother of Mary; St. Mary herself, mother of Jesus; and others like St. Terese, "Lady of the Flowers;" St. Bernadette, whose vision of the Blessed Mother directed her to dig in the barren earth until she found the water we now call Lourdes; and my mother's favorite, St. Joan of Arc, who was so incredibly brash and brave. I looked to these Saints as models for how to live my faith - not that I was very successful in following their model! But their stories accompanied me as I was growing up.
Now, I wonder, if Unitarian Universalists were to canonize people into sainthood, who would qualify? We probably wouldn't require martyrdom, and certainly not the performance of miracles, as the Catholic Church does; nor would we demand someone be a "believer" in any one doctrine in order to be a saint. Rather, our question for sainthood might be: How did that person live their values? How did they treat not only the people they loved, but more importantly, the people they didn't love, or feared, or didn't understand? Were they willing to wrestle with their inner demons, and face themselves when they fell short of living their values? And what did they do in their life to serve humanity?
Today marks the anniversary of the martyrdom of Michael Servetus, one of our Unitarian forefathers who lived in the 16th century. And so I got to thinking: Would he be someone we'd canonize? Does he meet our standards for Sainthood?
Now, one thing I didn't reveal to you during Candidating Week was that I occasionally correspond with great figures of the past. It used to be through "snail mail" to the Great Beyond, but like everyone else, they and I have now found e-mail much easier! So I e-mailed Michael Servetus recently (mservetus@heretics.hvn), and asked him to tell us about his life -- most especially, his quarrel with Protestant leader, John Calvin; and would he think he's a good candidate for Sainthood? This is what I received back:
Dear Rev. Anne (a title we would never have thought to use for a member of the clergy in my day; but then, we never would have thought to ordain a mere woman, either!):
Thank-you for contacting me and asking for my story to share with your congregation. It does my heart good to learn how far we anti-Trinitarians have come since I struggled to get our theological perspective taken seriously. Though you say your people are still hesitant to let people know about Unitarian Universalism - that they tend to "hide their light?" Hmmm…Too bad; we have such an important message! Ah well…You didn't ask for a sermon from me, only my history.
First, it's important to go back several centuries before my birth, to the 4th century of the Common Era, when the Christian church was building its foundations. Theologians were carefully studying the Bible, and holding many conversations in order to determine what the doctrine of the Church would be on the nature of God, of Jesus, and of the Holy Spirit: Were they one and the same, thus creating of God a Trinity? Were they each separate beings, but with Jesus ranking above other humans, and existing with God before Time? Or was Jesus merely human, a figure in history to be reckoned with then, and in our own lifetimes?
Now I realize that in your world today, probably even most Christians don't worry much about these questions anymore. But in the early years of the Church, these seemed of utmost urgency. For one thing, if Jesus had been both God and human, it meant that God had actually been living amongst human beings for a time, and might do so again in the future.
To the Roman Emperor, Constantine, however, the answer to these questions was more a matter of political expediency than religious quest. In the year 325 C.E., he called together the Council of Nicea, and basically decreed that the central doctrine of the Church would be Trinitarian - God as "Father, Son and Holy Spirit." Those who refused to abide by this doctrine were arrested for heresy. It was no small thing to be accused of heresy in those days; one could be killed for it, which may be why the controversy died away for the next twelve centuries after that Council.
I was born in 1511 -- just a few years before Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Church, launching the Protestant Reformation. I was born in Spain, the son of a Notary, which in those days was considered quite a respected high office. My life wasn't all that unusual, until I was sent off to study law at the insistence of my father.
There I learned to read and write in Latin, Hebrew and Greek, well enough to study and discuss the meaning of various portions of the Bible in their original language.
I was astonished to find no substance for that central doctrine of the Church, the Trinity. I was also relieved to discover this, as the whole idea of God as three beings instead of one had left me cold. Even the Unitarian historian Earl Morse Wilbur wrote that, "There was in such a doctrine more than enough to puzzle and confuse one's head, but nothing to warm one's heart or inspire one's life."
Not only did this Doctrine not inspire me, but refusal to accept it had been the Church's rationale for banishing 800,000 Jews from Spain one generation earlier, and, more recently, burning at the stake many thousands of Moors. This had troubled me greatly.
So you can see why I was both relieved and excited to find in the Christian Scripture the historical Jesus of Nazareth - not divine, but human. "(My) religious problem was solved, and the wonderful Bible seemed to (me) no less than a book come down from Heaven, in which (I) found all philosophy and all wisdom." I felt "from this point on…(that I) was destined to become…a religious reformer, who was to make known to the world (my) great discovery, simplify the teachings of the Church and restore the purity of its doctrines." Actually, I "hoped (this would) open the way to a general conversion of Mohammedans and Jews to Christianity." You see, I wanted to be an evangelist for Christianity! The only trouble was, I was evangelizing a form of Christianity not embraced by the powers of the church! That would become my undoing.
I was only 19 when I began corresponding with Protestant theologians about my new understanding of the Bible. I pointed out to them the fact that there was no mention in the Bible of a Trinity, or of the Holy Spirit "preceding" from the Father and the Son, or even of the eternal Divinity of Jesus of Nazareth. But apparently these theologians found me not only arrogant and irritating, but blasphemous as well.
Fortunately, their response didn't dampen my spirit. At age 20 I wrote my first and most famous book, which I titled, On the Errors of the Trinity. (In retrospect, I suppose one could see this as an arrogant - or at least, inflammatory - title.) In this 238-page treatise, I explained the Doctrine of the Trinity, and laid out my arguments against it. In addition to the fact that the concept is not mentioned anywhere in Scripture, I pointed out that it was a confusing and cold doctrine, one which the average Christian couldn't hope to understand, yet was not allowed to question.
I also put forth an image of a Trinity in which I could put my faith: A living God, a Christ who had been a historical reality, and a Holy Spirit forever working in the hearts of humans. I assured the reader that I did believe in the supernatural birth of Jesus, and therefore saw Jesus both human and the Son of God. The beauty of this, I wrote, was that the relationship of Jesus to God ensured that all of us were children of God, and would therefore be saved in the end. I really didn't see how anyone could object to this interpretation.
But how wrong I was! Turns out that not only were the Catholic leaders upset by my claims, but the Protestant leaders were frightened by my writings! I suppose that they had had enough problems with the Catholic hierarchy; they had lost several of their spokespersons to imprisonment or death for heresy. I'm sure they knew that the Church could easily point to me as a symbol of what happens when heresy is allowed to run rampant. In reaction, therefore, they forbid my book, and I was denounced from pulpits everywhere. One Protestant clergyman even declared that I should be "drawn and quartered!"
I will tell you honestly, Reverend Anne: I was stunned by this hostility, and I set about immediately to apologize. I pointed out how human it is to err; I admitted my rudeness, my confused arguments, my careless print. And then I wrote a second book, Dialogues on the Trinity, in which I expressed my original views, but softened them considerably.
Still, John Calvin and other Protestant leaders worried about me. And eventually, just as they feared, the Catholics took notice of my writings, and issued an order for my arrest, along with a number of other heretics. Realizing the danger I faced, and that nowhere in Europe was safe for a person who was hated by both Catholics and Protestants, I decided to change my name. I became "Michel de Villeneuve," and I then fled to Lyons, where I lived for the next 21 years.
In that time, under my new name, I remained exceedingly busy -- working as an editor for the press, editing Ptolemy's book on Geography, studying medicine and becoming a physician, publishing a book on the use of syrups for medicinal purposes (which was a controversial subject at the time), and lecturing at the University of Paris.
But alas, once again I got myself into trouble. While at the University, I began lecturing on Astrology. Accusations were made that I was teaching "judiciary astrology" - that form which asserts that the fate of human beings is predetermined by the heavenly bodies. I denied the accusation, but officials of the university ordered me, in front of my students, to stop lecturing on astrology altogether. I was so humiliated that I sort of "lost it," as you might say. I made some violent threats against the Dean of the school, in front of both students and teachers.
This led to the school bringing charges against me, including charges of heresy. There was a hearing, at which I did retract everything I'd said, and promised not to defend Judiciary Astrology in the future.
After that fiasco, I went back to editing and practicing medicine, but I also resumed my interest in religion. I embarked on a series of letters to Calvin, who had by this time become the main leader in the Protestant Reformation; I was sure that I could make him understand the "correctness" of my position on the Trinity. In the first letter, I posed several questions about the relationship of Jesus to God, about Baptism, and about Faith; and Calvin took great pains to answer my questions. I then responded with arguments to each of his answers, and posed a whole new list of questions.
I was enjoying the dialogue, but I guess Calvin did not; for he finally stopped answering my letters. This angered me so much that I took to reading each of Calvin's books, writing insulting notes in the margins, and sending them to him. This must have really bothered him, as he later reported that I'd left not a page free from what he called my "vomit!" He also referred to me as "incorrigibly wicked!" I loved it!
But what I didn't love was that even with those vile words, Calvin basically ignored my theories; and that was just too frustrating. So I organized the letters and notes into a third book titled, A Restoration to Christianity, and I had 1,000 copies printed. In the Preface, I insisted that I was "moved by a divine impulse" to write this book. I then proceeded not only to argue against the doctrine of the Trinity, but I also likened the Pope to the Antichrist; Rome, to Babylon; the Trinity a triple monster; and Calvin, a thief and robber. I called the Sacraments of the Catholic Church "demons," keeping my strongest criticism for the sacrament of Baptism, which I accused of being "a detestable abomination…and a trampling underfoot of Christ's whole kingdom."
Well, no one ignored me after that! The Catholics, given a tip by some Protestant as to my whereabouts, gathered up evidence against me and had me arrested. I was able to escape, and hid out for four months - during which time they proceeded with my trial. They found me "guilty by default," and sentenced me to death by slow fire. On the appointed day, I was burned in effigy.
In the end, however, it was not the Catholics who found and actually executed me, but the Protestants. On the very day when I crossed the border into Geneva, I was discovered - ironically enough, in church. For it was Sunday, and to be seen anywhere other than church on a Sunday would have drawn even more attention to me. Nevertheless, someone did recognize me, reported me to Calvin, and I was immediately arrested.
At the urging of Calvin, I was tried by a religious court, and this was their sentence:
Michael Servetus, you have expressed opinions against God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit….And you have had neither shame nor horror of setting yourself against the divine majesty and the Holy Trinity, and so you have obstinately tried to infect the world with your stinking heretical poison….For these and other reasons…having God and the Holy Scriptures before our eyes, speaking in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we now…give final sentence and condemn you to be…burned with your book to ashes. And so you shall finish your days and give an example to others who would commit the like."
From the moment of my sentencing to the lighting of the wood, I was urged to recant; but of course I refused. By now I was in my forties, and was more courageous than in my youth, and more forgiving. I prayed for God's mercy on my accusers, and as the flames rose I cried out, "O God, O God; what else can I speak of but God?" The date was October 27, 1553. After my execution, thousands of copies of my books were found throughout Europe and burned; today, only three survive.
Since my death, I've had several centuries to reflect on my actions, and obviously I was not a perfect human being - certainly not what anyone would call a "saint." I can see now why some historians have described me as having an "impetuous nature, quickness of temper," and a failure to understand the seriousness of my actions and the probable consequences. Wilbur contends that I had an "almost fanatical temperament, in which feeling and passion played a much larger part than calm reason." And I think he was right; I could easily become impatient or irritated when others didn't agree with my insights. Even I have wondered if my fate might have been different had I showed more emotional restraint. Another historian has written that, "If ever a poor fanatic thrust himself into the fire, it was Michael Servetus."
Yet I loved God and Scripture with a great passion, and it was that passion which motivated me to take up the cause of reason and tolerance in pursuit of religious understanding. It was because I felt so committed to the spread of Christianity, and to the living of it by the most common of folk, that I tried desperately to convince the most powerful theologians of my views.
Well, Reverend Anne, you and your congregation will have to decide whether I was saint or sinner; or do you suppose it's possible to be both? I will leave that up to you.
Thank-you for your interest in me. I hope I have been helpful in your new ministry there. And good luck in convincing more UUs to become good evangelists!
God bless you…Michael
*****
We live in a time when religious dogmatism is still causing wars, oppression, and frightening acts of terror. We need, therefore, to be reminded of people like Michael Servetus, who was imperfect, just as we are; who often let his frustrations get the better of him, as we sometimes do; who would become scared and occasionally run from the conflicts he had created, just as we might; but who, in the end, went beyond his human limitations and embraced his truths and his passions. He boldly challenged the narrowness of his time, living his love of God "out loud," and ultimately giving his life for that.
We will probably never face such risks, you and I; but we continually face the choice to live our values boldly, or to remain silent. May the history of this faith - the stories of the men and women who sustained it - support us in our living both privately and publicly. Who knows? Perhaps one day your story will be told from a pulpit somewhere, giving encouragement to others, and infusing them with pride in this faith we hold so dear.
May it be so.
Amen.
© 2002 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
