Will No-One Rid Me Of This Meddlesome Priest!
It was on this day in the year of our Lord 1170 that four knights arrived at the Cathedral of Canterbury, engaged on what they believed to be a mission from the English King, Henry II. For years, Henry had been at loggerheads with the Primate of England, Archbishop Thomas à Becket, over various matters concerning the secular power over the clergy and the ownership of Church lands. This had culminated with the excommunication by Thomas of several prominent churchmen, including the Archbishop of York, who had sided with the King. When Henry heard of this, he lost his temper and is said to have exclaimed: “Will no-one rid me of this meddlesome priest.” Our four knights took these words as a command, and set forth from Normandy, crossing the Channel to England, and making their way to Canterbury.
As the Archbishop prepared to go to the Altar for Vespers, they slew him with their swords. From that time, King Henry was reviled and was forced by the Pope to do public penance for his crime. The four knights were excommunicated and had to spend fourteen years making pilgrimages to the Holy Land. Meanwhile, Canterbury Cathedral became one of the great pilgrimage sites of Christendom, and even today we can see the worn-down stone steps which the pilgrims used to climb on their knees. Today, we still celebrate the courage of this warrior of the faith who died in the public and political defense of the Church.
As part of our remembrance though, we should also call to mind those ill-spoken words whose unintended consequences changed the course of history. King Henry had a very bad temper and was prone to outbursts like this. When his faithful entourage heard him express himself in such a manner, is it any wonder that they took him at his word, interpreting them as not merely an explosion of anger but as an actual command? Words, we see, have consequences, and it should give us pause when we too are overtaken by the fury of uncontrolled impatience. What we say in a fit of anger may also result in things we had neither intended nor wished for, and King Henry’s immortal outburst leaves us in no doubt that we too should bite our tongue when we are overcome with rage.
It is better to be the victim of such rage than the perpetrator. St. Thomas died the noble death of a martyr, while King Henry was brought to his knees and humbled to the point of being publicly flogged by order of the Pope. Heaven or hell—it’s a lesson that might hopefully bring us to pause before we speak, to be more careful with our wrathful words—words which, who knows! might incite those around us to do terrible things.