The Greek word apokalypsis is the first word in the last book in the New Testament, where it is often translated “Revelation.” The verb of this word, apokalypto, means “to reveal” or “disclose” something otherwise hidden. While the thing revealed could be a future event, apocalyptic literature is not preoccupied only with things to come. Rather, it is characterized by sweeping, symbol-laden descriptions of heavenly visions in which highly elaborate and, importantly, ineffable imagery conveys an otherwise “hidden” perspective that demonstrates God’s providence and sovereignty over human affairs. 

Where Are the Apocalyptic Texts in the Bible?

Apocalyptic literature features a heavenly vision guided by a heavenly messenger. The illumined author will often begin by stating that the heavens were opened, and then an angelic being begins to introduce and narrate a series of visions. While dreams play pivotal roles in many biblical narratives, apocalyptic visions sometimes take place when the prophetic seer is wide awake, and they can begin without warning.

Passages that share features with apocalyptic texts can be found in Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Joel, and Zechariah. But the quintessential example of this genre in the Hebrew Bible is the second half of Daniel. Daniel’s vision is presented as a journey. He is not only its witness, but also steps into the vision and interacts with its characters and elements. The book of Revelation, in the New Testament, draws heavily from the imagery and themes in Daniel’s apocalypse. 

Apocalyptic Literature Reveals a Cosmic Struggle

While a futuristic setting is a key characteristic of popular apocalyptic movies, television shows, and novels today, biblical apocalyptic texts are many times intended to speak into situations contemporary to their authors. In fact, the heavenly visions they contain often look backward onto historical events, such as the rise and fall of empires, as small parts of a larger, cosmic struggle between God and the forces of evil.

The creatures and characters that appear in apocalyptic texts are extremely difficult to draw or paint, if all the details in the text are taken into consideration. Narrators tend to punctuate their descriptions with qualifiers such as “like” or “as if,” which highlights the ultimate inadequacy of human language to describe the otherworldly views they are witnessing. The visionary’s inability to fully describe what he sees is characteristic of this genre: the visions are clear to him, but ultimately ineffable. He cannot fully describe them.  

Not All Biblical Visions Are Considered Apocalyptic

The clearest example of apocalyptic literature in the Bible is Revelation, with the second half of Daniel being the Hebrew Bible’s closest parallel. However, the vast majority of apocalyptic literature is not contained in the Hebrew or the New Testament, which is why there is some debate among biblical scholars regarding whether or not certain biblical passages fit properly into this genre. 

There are numerous examples of classically apocalyptic texts dating from the post-exilic period to the early centuries of Christianity. Among the Jewish writings are The Book of Enoch, The Apocalypse of Abraham, and The Apocalypse of Moses. Others, such as The Apocalypse of Paul and The Apocalypse of Peter, were written by Christians in the centuries following Christianity’s birth. Thus, while Revelation and the second half of Daniel define the genre within the Bible, there is a large corpus of ancient texts that contribute to its definition.   

Apocalyptic Literature Has Other Defining Characteristics

Certain characteristics distinguish apocalyptic literature from other genres of post-exilic Jewish writing. While they also contain visions, older prophetic texts tend to emphasize prophets receiving oracles from God, and do not contain the extensive visionary experiences that characterize apocalyptic literature. The cinema-like nature of apocalyptic texts also lends itself to the portrayal of a more comprehensive worldview than does other prophetic literature. The worldview portrayed is highly dualistic, including a variety of mystical, celestial beings that battle either for or against God’s will.

In addition, apocalyptic literature tends to reference immense eras, concerning itself not only with immediate concerns but with virtually all of known human history. Another defining characteristic is the fantastic creatures it portrays. Talking beasts with multiple heads, eyes, and conglomerates of different animals that have obvious roots in Ancient Near Eastern iconography play key roles in apocalyptic visions.

It Provides a Trip through Heaven

The apocalyptic vision also highlights God’s ultimate victory over evil from a heavenly, divine perspective. “Heavenly perspective,” in this sense, does not mean a place of unmitigated bliss walled off from earth’s pains, but a cosmic, panoramic view of both human and celestial activity as these realms interact with each other. There is a tension in apocalyptic texts between the uncertainty of present struggles and the determined future in which God will finally crush evil and establish eternal peace both in heaven and on earth.

When it comes to biblical immorality, no one quite delivers like King David upon seeing Bathsheba. Their story reads like a fever dream of soap opera scandal: a king’s rooftop lust, a bathing beauty, a husband sent to his doom, and a prophet with receipts from the Almighty. Oh, and let’s not forget the aftermath: a dead child, a cursed lineage, and a second son who would go on to build the Temple and become one of the wisest (and most infamous) monarchs in history. Bathsheba emerges as a cunning power player, securing her son Solomon’s place on the throne. The tale is as layered as it is unsettling, leaving us questioning the nature of power, agency, and how one royal misstep has echoed throughout history.

King David on a Rooftop, Instead of Fighting a War

By the time of the infamous rooftop incident, David had been king for over 15 years. He had transformed from the shepherd boy who took down Goliath to a seasoned ruler, well-established in his palace in Jerusalem. His kingdom was flourishing, his conquests were piling up, and his personal life was, let’s say, complicated. With six wives already sharing his royal quarters, David wasn’t exactly experiencing poverty in the consort department.

By ancient custom, spring was the season when kings went out to war. Yet David, the once-hands-on warrior-king, stayed behind in his palace, delegating the campaign to his loyal general Joab. Joab and the Israelite army were laying siege to the Ammonite capital, Rabbah; a grueling campaign. Among those enduring the brutality of the battlefield was Uriah the Hittite, one of David’s elite soldiers. Calling him a Hittite, and remembering him thusly, also seems to be a bit of a literary backhand. He was probably a second-generation Israelite, as the name Uriah isn’t one of Hittite origin.

Uriah was part of “the Thirty,” a group of highly skilled warriors who formed the backbone of David’s military might. To reach that rank required immense courage and skill; Uriah had earned this place. Yet as he fought on the front lines, his king stood on his palace rooftop, enjoying the comforts of home. It was there that David noticed Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba, bathing nearby.

The story spiraled from there. David, already married in the multiple, was overcome by his desire for Bathsheba and summoned her to a meeting.

The Girl on the Rooftop

Bathsheba’s story invites modern readers into deeply uncomfortable territory. When modern folk imagine her bathing on a rooftop, the titillating scene conjured is often one of a grown woman intentionally seducing the king, soaping up where he can easily spy on her. But let’s pause and look at the context: Bathsheba was likely very young. Young enough, in fact, that she just may have been purifying herself after experiencing her first menstrual cycle.

Bathsheba wasn’t a stranger to King David, either. Her grandfather, Ahithophel, was one of David’s most trusted advisors, a man renowned for his wisdom and influence. Her father, Eliam, had been one of David’s elite warriors, also counted among “the Thirty.” Bathsheba had grown up in a family that served David’s court and military. She wasn’t some unknown beauty who suddenly appeared on a rooftop one day. She was part of the extended network of loyalty and service that bolstered David’s reign.

Additionally, historical context can clear up a lot of common misconceptions about the rooftop. The bath Bathsheba was taking was most likely part of a mikvah, a ritual purification mandated by Jewish law. She wasn’t luxuriating in plain sight to attract attention; she was following religious tradition. The very idea that she was seducing David collapses under scrutiny. If anything, she was fulfilling a religious and cultural obligation, not orchestrating an affair.

What makes Bathsheba’s situation even more tragic is her youth and vulnerability. She had been married to Uriah the Hittite, but given her age, their union was likely a political arrangement rather than a marriage of equals. Some scholars argue she may have been too young for the marriage to have even been consummated yet.

The story of Bathsheba as a “siren” says more about historical biases than the truth of her circumstances. She was a young girl from a family who gave themselves into the service of the royal house, married to a soldier, and likely living under the shadow of courtly politics. Her “choices” were shaped by the world around her, where a king’s summons was not a request but a command. She simply had no choice.

David Summons Her, She Gets Pregnant, Then What?

They meet. They “know” each other. Then, as far as the king is concerned, the tryst is over and his hunger is sated. That is until Bathsheba notifies him that she is carrying proof of the affair. If, as some suspect, she hadn’t known any man before the king, her life was suddenly in even more dire straits. The consequences of being labeled an adulterer were fatal: stoning was the punishment prescribed by law. Bathsheba’s fate, and the fate of the child that grew within her, were tied to David’s decisions. Both of their survival depended on the king’s willingness to protect her, and his choices left much to be desired.

David’s first attempt to cover up his actions was riddled with faulty smoke and mirrors. He summoned Uriah back from the battlefield, ostensibly for a report on the war. The king’s real intention was to send Uriah home to sleep with Bathsheba, creating the illusion that her child was conceived within the bonds of matrimony. However, Uriah’s loyalty to his comrades and his unyielding sense of duty prevented him from enjoying comforts denied to his fellow soldiers. Not even David’s ploy of getting the soldier drunk could sway him.

When deception failed, David’s solution turned deadly. He sent Uriah back to the front lines with sealed orders instructing Joab to position him where the fighting was fiercest and then withdraw support, ensuring Uriah’s death. The man unknowingly delivered his own death sentence. The plan worked, and Uriah was killed in battle; a betrayal that left Bathsheba widowed and free to remarry…quickly.

After a brief mourning period for Uriah, Bathsheba was brought to the palace and married to David. To the public, it may have seemed like an act of gentle stewardship, a king caring for the widow of a soldier who had served him well. In reality, it was damage control. But the prophet Nathan saw through David’s ploy and delivered a devastating rebuke. In a parable that mirrored David’s sins, Nathan likened him to a rich man who stole and slaughtered a poor man’s only lamb. When David condemned the hypothetical man, Nathan struck with the truth: “You are the man!”

Nathan’s prophecy foretold violence and tragedy within David’s household; a punishment that began with the death of Bathsheba’s child. The baby did not live longer than seven days, leaving Bathsheba to grieve yet another loss. In a matter of months, she had been torn from her first marriage, thrust into a dangerous relationship with a much older man, and lost her firstborn child.

Again, somehow, she managed to pick up the pieces and continue living. She went on to have four more sons with David: Shammua, Shobab, Nathan (not to be confused with the prophet), and Solomon. Her enduring friendship with the prophet Nathan, who had foreseen that David’s sins would lead to death in her own family, suggests a remarkable strength and resilience in the face of such overwhelming trauma.

Enter Solomon

Solomon’s birth marked a turning point in Bathsheba’s story, both as a mother and as a woman wielding political influence in a world shaped by and for men. By the time of Solomon’s birth, David was nearly 50 years old burdened with a tumultuous household. Bathsheba, likely still a teenager, now had to navigate the childhood of a vulnerable son; a son whose future would shape the destiny of Israel.

When Solomon was born, the prophet Nathan, who had once rebuked David for his sins, delivered a message of grace: God loved this child. While in the womb, the Almighty called this baby a Jedidiah, meaning “beloved of the Lord,” signaling to all his divine favor. This blessing set Solomon apart, but it was Bathsheba’s calculated influence that secured his path to the throne.

Though Solomon was not David’s eldest son, Bathsheba’s determination ensured he was not overlooked in the scramble for succession. David’s indulgence with his other children, particularly his older sons, had already proven to produce nothing but chaos. Amnon, David’s firstborn, committed an unspeakable crime against his half-sister Tamar, and David’s refusal to act led to Absalom’s vengeful murder of Amnon. Absalom, in turn, declared himself king and forced David into a humiliating retreat. After all, if David couldn’t protect his own daughter or take retribution on her abuser, how could he effectively run a country? Through all this, Bathsheba and Solomon witnessed firsthand the destructive consequences of unchecked ambition and parental inaction.

Bathsheba understood the precarious position Solomon was in. Absalom, with his striking beauty and magnetic charisma, had stolen the hearts of the people and likely dismissed Solomon as a mere child. It wasn’t this older brother but Bathsheba who saw what others overlooked: David’s growing affection for Solomon and the divine promise attached to him.

As David aged, his remaining sons jockeyed for power. Adonijah (the next in line after Absalom’s murder of Amnon and then his own death after usurping the crown) declared himself king with the backing of key allies. During this final power grab, Bathsheba, in a masterful display of political acumen, approached the ailing David alongside the prophet Nathan. She reminded the king of his earlier vow that Solomon would succeed him all while exposing Adonijah’s premature claim to the throne. Her timing and tact were impeccable, compelling David to publicly anoint Solomon as his heir, effectively quashing Adonijah’s rebellion before it could take hold.

Bathsheba’s role didn’t end with securing Solomon’s kingship. She remained a trusted advisor and a powerful presence in the royal court (after all, she was now queen mother). Even after David’s death, she skillfully navigated palace intrigues, including Adonijah’s attempt to marry Abishag, one of David’s concubines; a move that Solomon interpreted as a threat to his reign. It was Bathsheba who brought this request to Solomon, a gesture that demonstrated her continued influence. She likely knew the outcome would not extend Adonijah’s lifespan.

Solomon grew to be a man of contrasts, renowned for his wisdom and wealth, but flawed by his insatiable appetite. His request for wisdom at Gibeon earned him divine favor, and his legendary judgment solidified his reputation as Israel’s wisest ruler. Yet, as he aged, Solomon’s heart turned toward the foreign gods of his many wives and concubines, leading to spiritual decline and the eventual fracturing of the kingdom after his death. Bathsheba probably did not live to see this change of character.

As the mother of the wisest king of Israel, she left an indelible mark on history. One can only wonder what Bathsheba thought of Solomon’s many marriages and his eventual straying from Yahweh. Did she warn him against repeating David’s mistakes, or was she powerless to prevent her son from repeating history?

Though the Bible leaves much of Bathsheba’s inner life to speculation, her actions speak volumes. She rose above scandal and tragedy to become a mother of kings and a wise strategist in a complicated court. Solomon’s reign, with all its splendor and flaws, was a testament to the strength and influence of the woman who ensured he could live long enough to flourish.

The Book of Genesis mentions the region of Canaan which plays a central role in Israelite history before the Israelites existed as a nation. According to the Bible, it was the land of the descendants of Canaan, the grandson of Noah (Genesis 10:19). Canaan’s legacy seems to have permeated the ethos of Canaanite culture. The area became synonymous with idolatry, and many different nations and tribes occupied parts of Canaan during Biblical history. The promised land fell within the borders of Canaan, and the people of God had to take it by force. In time, the name Canaan was replaced with other names as the territory was divided among nations.

The Backstory of Canaan

In the Bible, the land Canaan derives its name from Canaan, the son of Ham, and grandson of Noah. An enigmatic passage from Genesis 9 causes some scholars to speculate that Canaan was sexually immoral. Genesis 9:20-27 reads:

“Noah began to be a man of the soil, and he planted a vineyard. He drank of the wine and became drunk and lay uncovered in his tent. And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father and told his two brothers outside. Then Shem and Japheth took a garment, laid it on both their shoulders, and walked backward and covered the nakedness of their father. Their faces were turned backward, and they did not see their father’s nakedness. When Noah awoke from his wine and knew what his youngest son had done to him, he said, ‘Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be to his brothers.’ He also said, ‘Blessed be the LORD, the God of Shem; and let Canaan be his servant. May God enlarge Japheth, and let him dwell in the tents of Shem, and let Canaan be his servant.’” 

What exactly happened between Noah and Ham, and why Noah cursed Canaan, is unclear. Some scholars have speculated that sexual impropriety occurred that may have involved Canaan. The connection between the “youngest son,” which could also refer to a son’s son, and Noah cursing Canaan, may directly implicate the grandson. 
Leviticus 18:7-8 shows how the phrase “the nakedness of” often appears in the context of sexual interaction. Though the text does not directly make such a claim, a minority of theologians believe Canaan may have had sexual contact with Noah during his drunkenness, possibly even sodomizing his grandfather. These scholars claim it would explain how Noah “knew” what had been done to him and cursed the culprit.

The descendants of Canaan dispersed and occupied territory that the Bible later called Canaan (Genesis 10:15-19).

It is important to understand that the term “Canaanites” does not refer to a single nation or people. The Canaanites were different nations that occupied territory within Canaan. Among them were the Ammonites, Amorites, Hivites, Jebusites, Moabites, Philistines, and Phoenicians. The Canaanite nations shared cultural and linguistic traits due to their proximity to one another and their shared heritage.

Some see the later occupation of Canaan by the Israelites, who subdued its inhabitants, as the fulfillment of the curse of Noah put on Canaan. The Israelites were descendants of Shem.

The Land of Canaan

The Ebla Tablets, dated to around 2400–2250 BCE, mention several cities associated with the Canaanites, but they do not mention the Canaanites by name. Among the oldest records that mention the Canaanites are Egyptian sources like the Execration Texts dated to the 19th-18th century BCE, which mention Jerusalem (Urusalim), Ashkelon, and Shechem, and the Mari Tablets (18th century BCE), which mention the “Kinahhu,” who many scholars believe were the Canaanites.

Later, the Amarna Letters, diplomatic letters from kings of Jerusalem (Urusalim), Gezer, and Megiddo asking for protection against invaders and dated to the 14th century BCE, reference the Canaanites. It shows that Canaan and the Canaanites were an established and widely known territory and people group.

Canaan was the land God sent Abram to (Genesis 12:5-7, 15:18-21). The territory roughly corresponds to modern-day Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, western Jordan, and parts of Syria. Different passages from the Bible have varying descriptions of its borders, so it is difficult to determine exactly how to define the extremities of Canaan (Genesis 10:19, Genesis 15:18-21, Numbers 34:1-12).

Canaan was a well-known geographical area in ancient times, and many Egyptian and Mesopotamian inscriptions mention it by name. The east and west boundaries were the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea, while the north and south borders were less well defined.

Exodus 3:8 describes this territory as “a land flowing with milk and honey.” Canaan was a significant gateway to other territories, with trade routes running through it due to its location between western Asia, Egypt, and the Mediterranean. As such, the territory had significant military and economic importance as well, making it a target for many empires, including Egypt, that sought to control it and have it as a buffer zone between them and kingdoms to their north and northeast.

Archaeologists have discovered pottery from Canaan in Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Anatolia. Pottery and artifacts from various parts of the wider Near East found in Canaan show how important this area was to regional trade.

The Bible depicts the inhabitants of Canaan as wicked and immoral, with polytheistic religions abounding among them. One of the deities many Canaanites worshiped was Moloch, whose worship included child sacrifice. Several Israelite kings, like Solomon and Ahab, also fell into idolatry, setting up places of worship to pagan gods.

Conflict in Canaan

When God established a covenant with Abram, renaming him Abraham in the process, he promised the land to his servant as an inheritance (Genesis 17:8). Even before this covenant, Abram had already experienced the conflict this region has been known for. In Genesis 14, the kings of Shinar, Ellasar, Elam, and Goiim, made war in an alliance against cities like Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim, and Bela (Zoar). When they conquered and raided Sodom, they took Lot and his possessions as part of their loot.

When news of his nephew’s situation reached Abram, he took 318 of his trained men and set off to free his kinsman, Lot’s possessions, and everyone associated with him. Abram also looted the looters and tithed to Melchizedek from his loot.

History confirms much of what we learn from the Bible. Several significant city-states that were politically independent from one another would form coalitions and fight one another for resources and land.

Thutmose I, the third pharaoh of Egypt’s 18th Dynasty, who reigned from 1506 to 1493 BCE, led military campaigns into the Levant and beyond. He waged war against many of the city-states in Canaan and subjugated them. They paid tribute to Egypt until his death, when most of the Canaanite cities freed themselves from oppression.

When the Israelites left Egypt, Canaan was occupied by the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. Most of these were descendants of Canaan or part of the larger Semitic and Hamitic peoples, so they were distant relations.

Several nations associated with the giants in the Bible also lived there, resulting in some spies believing it impossible to conquer the land when they returned from their reconnaissance mission. The lack of faith among the Israelites resulted in a 40-year sojourn in the desert before a new generation would take Canaan by force.

God instructed the Israelites to drive the Canaanites from the Promised Land and destroy their idols (Exodus 23:31-33, Numbers 33:50-56, Deuteronomy 7:1-5, Deuteronomy 20:16-18). The Israelites did not heed this instruction, which caused many problems for them and the later monarchs of Israel. The Gibeonites were one of the first nations spared. In their case, they tricked the Israelites into sparing them.

The Annals of Thutmose III indicate that Egypt controlled much Canaanite territory during his reign. Canaan became a territory of Egypt and remained a vassal for centuries after the Battle of Megiddo. The situation changed in the middle of the 12th century BCE when the Sea People flooded the Levant. Archaeological evidence shows that during this time, many cities were abandoned. Egypt withdrew many of its resources from Canaan to protect against the invasion of Egypt. Later, Egyptians again invaded Canaan, and the Merneptah Stele (c. 1207 BCE) mentions the Israelites as one of the nations that occupied the territory.

The Bible depicts the inhabitants of Canaan as wicked and immoral, with polytheistic religions abounding among them. One of the deities many Canaanites worshiped was Moloch, whose worship included child sacrifice. Several Israelite kings, like Solomon and Ahab, fell into idolatry, setting up places of worship to these pagan gods.

With the rise of the Israelites, Philistines, and Phoenicians in the Levant, the use of the name Canaan gradually decreased. During the Neo-Assyrian & Babylonian periods, the name Canaan disappeared from the historical record. The coastal regions of Canaan are called Phoenicia, and the remainder are called Yehud Medinata (the Kingdom of Judah) and Samaria (the Kingdom of Israel). After the Bar Kochba Revolt, the Romans referred to the region as “Palestina.”

Many scholars believe the Phoenicians embodied Canaanite culture and traditions. They consider the Phoenicians nothing less than coastal Canaanites.

The Lollards, a proto-Protestant movement that developed in the mid-14th century in England, would hold sway on the teachings of the Protestant and Catholic Church for the next two centuries. Calling for the reform of Western Christianity, the Lollards were one of the first Protestant movements in the world, and their efforts undoubtedly contributed to the philosophy of later figures such as Martin Luther. Read on to find out all about the history of Lollardy in later medieval Europe.

The Origin of the Lollards

While John Wycliffe is credited with starting the Lollard movement in the 14th century, where did his ideas actually originate from?

It was through Wycliffe’s teachings and philosophy that the Lollard movement sparked. Wycliffe was a scholar at Oxford University, and he believed that everybody should have access to the teachings of the Bible, not just those who could read Latin.

As such, Wycliffe began the arduous task of translating the Bible into vernacular English, thus making it accessible for more and more people, who could understand its teachings and read it for themselves.

Because of this, people who could read and understand English—such as townspeople, merchants, and others lower down the social classes than the clergy—could now have access to the teachings of the Bible, instead of hearing it from a Catholic priest.

The Catholic Church looked down upon this practice, even before it condemned Wycliffe as a heretic. But perhaps the biggest reason for the Lollards being seen as a disruptive group was due to their “involvement” in the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381.

Lollardy and the Peasants’ Revolt

During the reign of King Richard II of England, many common people had had enough with the king’s incessant taxes and marched to London to protest them.

Unfortunately for the Lollard movement, one of the leaders of the Peasants’ Revolt was a known Lollard, John Ball. Ball had been preaching against the Catholic Church for at least a decade before Wycliffe began developing the early stages of Lollardy, but because he agreed with much of Wycliffe’s teachings, he was grouped in with him as a Lollard.

When Richard II’s forces brutally put down the Peasants’ Revolt, Ball was seen as a ringleader of the cause, and as such, was hanged, drawn, and quartered, with his body parts being displayed across 14 different parts of the kingdom. This may have seemed like a nail in the coffin for Lollardy, but it was far from over.

Wycliffe’s Next Steps

A year after the Peasants’ Revolt, Wycliffe was dismissed from his position at Oxford University and deemed a heretic by the Catholic Church at the Council of Constance.

Instead of ending the movement completely as the Catholic Church had hoped, Lollardy grew amongst the common people; the Church had spurred the movement on, changing it from a heretical branch of Catholicism to a full-blown underground religious movement.

The English-printed Bible was distributed throughout the kingdom among Lollards, and it was at this point that it really began to take off.

Political Rebellion and Lollardy

Following Wycliffe’s death in 1384, Lollardy did not die with him. On the contrary, it seemed to gain more traction than ever, and began to worry English monarchs by the turn of the 15th century.

In 1401, during the reign of Henry IV, a new law was enacted that essentially redefined the term heresy. Previously, heresy was defined as an error in theological belief, but this new law, called De heretico comburendo, equated heresy with sedition (speaking out) against public rulers. As such, Lollardy was driven underground.

However, it was the burning of John Badby in 1410 that, much like the dismissal of John Wycliffe, helped to grow the movement even more. Badby was a tailor from the West Midlands and an open Lollard. Once again, this went to show how common tradespeople were adopting Lollardy from a theological point of view. Bandby refused to denounce his Lollardy, citing his denial of transubstantiation (the Catholic belief that the bread and wine at Communion are the literal flesh and blood of Christ).

When Badby was burned at the stake for his views, he became two things: the very first Lollard martyr, and the first layman in English history to suffer capital punishment for the crime of heresy.

Lollardy in the Medieval English Court

Badby’s brutal execution only served to inspire the growth of Lollardy, but not just among the common people – many nobles were taking it up, too.

While there had been some names mentioned in the chronicles of Henry Knighton and Thomas Walsingham as early as the reign of Richard II (1377–99), as Lollards, there was little concrete evidence to say that they were. Some of the men mentioned included Thomas Latimer, William Nevil, John Clanvow, Lewis Clifford, John Trussell, Richard Storey, Reginald Hilton, and Sir John Peche.

These men were known as the Lollard Knights, and the evidence for this was that there was some Lollard-inspired language in their wills, such as how they wished to be buried in the earth to return from whence they came.

However, there was no hint of these men being Lollards during their lifetime. They were senior figures in the court of Richard II, who had executed and condemned Lollards, and this language could simply be a coincidence.

By the time John Oldcastle came along, the view was completely different.

The Oldcastle Revolt

John Oldcastle, a close and personal friend of King Henry V (r. 1413–22), was brought to trial in 1413 after evidence of his Lollard beliefs had been uncovered.

While he was being held in the Tower of London as both a religious and a political prisoner while awaiting his sentencing, he managed to successfully escape, and even began to organize an insurrection with a long-term plan of kidnapping Henry V.

The rebellion was ultimately a failure, and Oldcastle was captured and summarily executed. When it was deemed by the Crown and the Church that Lollards would go so far as to make their movement political and personal as well as religious, persecution of the Lollards became even more severe. It is not wrong to suggest that Lollardy in the early 15th century was seen in as negative a light in England as groups such as ISIS and Al-Qaeda are today.

Lollardy and the Reformation

By the time the Reformation had reached English shores at the turn of the 16th century, Lollardy was firmly absorbed into the English iteration of the Protestant movement.

Because Lollardy had been an underground movement since Henry IV’s reign, it is hard to pinpoint where Lollardy formally ended and when it simply became a part of the English Reformation.

Theologically, Lollardy and Protestantism were similar enough to be absorbed together, as they were championing the same larger causes, such as the reformation of the Catholic Church and doctrine within the Church.

Interestingly, critics of the Protestant Reformation—in particular, men like Thomas More—equated Protestants with Lollards, which went to show how seriously anti-Lollard rhetoric was used and taken in England during the Reformation. On the other hand, one of the key leaders of the English Reformation, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, referred to Lollardy in his sermons in a positive light.

Because Lollardy had evolved in the two centuries since Wycliff’s teachings, it is also hard to ascertain whether late Lollardy and early Protestantism could be lumped together.

The Later Lollard Years

The persecution of Lollards was also recorded in the early 16th century, suggesting it was still seen as its own movement. For example, in the Diocese of London, there are records of 310 Lollards being prosecuted or forced to denounce their faith between 1510 and 1532, while in the Diocese of Lincoln, 45 cases were heard against Lollardy in 1506-07.

Unsurprisingly, Bloody Mary, better known as Queen Mary I of England (r. 1553-58), was a key figure in the persecution of the Lollards, who fell under the Revival of the Heresy Acts of 1554.

Representations of Lollardy in Art

Due to the heretical nature of Lollardy—or at least heretical by the standards of the later medieval Catholic Church—they became a target for negative representations in artwork.

Lollards were seen, in modern terms, as turkeys voting for Christmas. Representations of Lollards and Lollardy in general can typically be seen in old churches, sculpted into woodwork. A common depiction is a fox dressed as a monk or a priest preaching to geese. In other words, the fox (a Lollard preacher) is an evil being, while the innocent geese (common people) think that they are a true preacher (like a priest or a monk), and have their best interests at heart.

Another way that this art is interpreted is that the fox, with its wily words, grace and eloquence, is easily able to draw in its audience—geese and chickens—before violently snatching them to devour them.

Final Thoughts

The Lollards were more than a typical heretical movement, as many modern historians lump them in as. They were also more than simply a precursor to the Reformation.

The Lollards should be looked at as perhaps the biggest inspiration behind the English Reformation, because without Lollardy, Protestantism would never have taken off in the way that it did under Henry VIII in the 16th century.

Calling for the reform of the Catholic Church centuries before the Reformation landed on English shores was arguably the beginning of the downfall of trust in the Catholic Church in England, when people began to see the Church overreaching its power.

Combine this with brutal executions of Lollards, who ultimately became martyrs, and the Lollard movement was one of the most influential religious movements in English religious history.

Holy Wednesday marks the midpoint of the Easter Timeline, yet it is shrouded in mystery. The Gospel accounts are suspiciously quiet about what went down on this remarkable day, just before Jesus Christ’s arrest on Thursday. It must have been during this time that Judas planned out how he would betray Jesus – the ultimate kiss of deception that explains why Judas is painted in yellow.

The Mystery of Holy Wednesday

There is a strange gap around Holy Wednesday in the Easter timeline of the Gospels (Books: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John that portray the events of Jesus’ life). While Sunday’s Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, Monday’s events with the merchants in the Templecourts, and even Tuesday’s debates and teachings are described at great length – the Olivet Discourse alone takes up multiple chapters in the Gospel of Matthew! – Wednesday remains a mystery.

The Gospels don’t tell us what Jesus and His disciples got up to on this day, except for one specific disciple’s actions: Judas Iscariot.

According to the firsthand eyewitness accounts written down in the Gospels, Wednesday was the day when Judas took a bribe to hand Jesus over in the coming days.

What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you? (Matthew 26:15)

Why Judas Is Painted in Yellow

In paintings of the Last Supper or other events during Easter week, artists throughout the years have tended to paint Judas yellow. Not a bright, holy, or divine type of glow, but a more muted kind of yellow.

Before we can understand why the artists chose to depict Judas this way, we need to read what exactly happened on Holy Wednesday.

Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests and asked, “What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?” So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over. (Matthew 26:14-16)

Renaissance and medieval artists used colors to convey certain emotions. Gentiles and non-Christians were often painted in this yellow hue to set them apart from the other characters in a painting.

Specific Uses of the Color Yellow

• Yellow is the color of gold, often used to portray grandeur and riches as a cheaper alternative for gilding with real gold. For instance, think of other royal scenes in paintings from the Middle Ages.“Judas was a thief, and having charge of the moneybag he used to help himself to what was put into it.” (John 12:6)
• While the colors blue and green have a calming effect on the eye of the beholder, the colors red and yellow induce a sense of urgency and energy. For example, think of how these colors are used in fast-food restaurants. As Jesus said to Judas in John 13:27 – “What you are about to do, do quickly”

The artists’ decision to paint Judas with a yellow undertone or dressed in yellow garments might have been influenced by any or all of these interpretations.

The Deceiver’s Kiss in Paintings

Another strange facet of similar paintings is that Judas is often kissing Jesus – an act we might see as endearing and indicating their close friendship. But, sadly, this kiss had a different meaning.

Judas did not linger long after Wednesday’s deal to turn Jesus over into the hands of those who wanted to kill him. On Thursday evening, while Jesus was praying in an olive grove he loved, he experienced hematohidrosis – what doctors now explain as extreme angst, leading one’s sweat to turn to blood.

At that moment, a mob arrived carrying spears and burning torches.

Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.” Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him. The men seized Jesus and arrested him. (Mark 14:44-46)

Judas, the One who Betrayed Jesus

Judas is often singled out because he is the one responsible for Jesus’ arrest, but the Gospels tell us that not one of Jesus’ disciples stuck by his side during his trial. Scared of the persecution they might face, they all ran away.

Then everyone deserted him and fled. (Mark 14:50)

The Gospels tell us that Jesus appeared to many of His followers after His resurrection. During this time, they had the opportunity to be restored. Peter, for example, who famously denied Jesus three times before the rooster crowed, had three chances when Jesus asked him: “Do you love me?”

This was sadly not the happy ending for Judas. Trapped in guilt and grief after he handed Jesus over to the chief priests, Judas committed suicide by hanging himself. In some ways, he became the perfect example of Jesus’ teachings that the love of money leads to all kinds of evil.

From the very first sounds of donkey hooves entering Jerusalem to the surprised cries of women outside the empty tomb, the Easter story follows a busy and surprising chain of events. While some parts of the Easter timeline might be familiar to you, other details are sure to catch you off guard. In this article, we’ll walk with Jesus and his disciples through Holy Week, from Palm Sunday to Resurrection Day.

Holy Week – Let’s Break it Down

When Christians celebrate Easter, it’s a lengthier celebration than Christmas. Instead of a single day commemorating a certain event, Easter festivities follow the events of a whole week – from one Sunday till the next. 

Before we get into the details, these are the events on the Holy Week timeline based on the Bible:

Palm Sunday, the Triumphal Entry

On Sunday, Jesus sent his disciples ahead of him into Jerusalem to find a young donkey. Shortly afterwards, he rode into Jerusalem’s streets. Crowds gathered, waving palm branches in the air, throwing their outer garments on the floor, and shouting: “Hosanna!” They exclaimed that Jesus is in fact, the promised one whom the prophets spoke about.

The prophet Zechariah wrote: “Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zech 9:9)

People expected a king to ride on a mighty horse, like Alexander the Great, and instead they got a servant-hearted man who said things like: “The first will be last.” Teachings like this made Jesus very unpopular among the powerful religious leaders of the time and others who benefited in money or status from a different view of God’s kingdom.

Monday in the Temple to Holy Wednesday

When going to the Temple – which was supposed to be a place where God dwelled – Jesus got angry. It was filled with merchants and people selling goods that the hypocritical and corrupt leaders allowed. They loved money more than God.

The following day, on Tuesday, Jesus went up against the Temple leaders again, debating with them about the wrong in their ways. It is sometimes called Fig Tuesday because Jesus cursed a fruitless fig tree, comparing it to the spiritual leaders who had no godly ‘fruit’ (good characteristics). 

On the Mount of Olives, Jesus walked and talked with his disciples about what would happen in the next few days. On this day, Judas negotiated with the religious leaders to betray Jesus.

The Gospels do not tell what specifically happened on Wednesday.

The Garden of Gethsemane and Jesus’ Arrest

On Thursday, after washing his disciples’ feet, Jesus sat down for the Passover meal with his disciples. He broke bread with them, showing the first example of what would later become the practice of Communion or The Eucharist. He told them again about how his body would be given for them but they still did not understand.

At that table, Jesus identified Judas as the one who would betray him. Jesus went to pray in the Garden of Gethsemane at night and he was arrested by a violent mob.

Even though his unlawful trial found him innocent, Jesus was still crucified on Friday, in the place of a murderer. All his disciples deserted him and Judas committed suicide that morning. 

This day is known as Good Friday because Jesus completed his reason for coming to earth: He died in the place of sinners. Jesus’ last words were prayers of forgiveness for those who killed him.

Complete darkness descended when he blew out his last breath and the curtain in the Temple tore as God’s presence spread out into all the earth.

Resurrection Sunday

Women who went to visit his grave on Sunday morning were very surprised to find it empty. There was an angel there who told them that Jesus had risen and conquered death, just as he said he would. 

In the following forty (40) days, Jesus appeared to many people, even letting them press their fingers through the crucifixion holes in his hands, before giving them the Great Commission and ascending into heaven. 

This article explored how each day of Holy Week holds special significance for Christians as they reflect on, learn from, and are emboldened by Jesus’ final days on earth.

According to legend, if you are in St. John Lateran basilica in Rome and you hear the rattling of bones coming from one of the tombs flanking the nave, the Pope is about to die. The rattling bones belong to Pope Sylvester II, who reigned from 999 to 1003. Sylvester developed a legendary status in the years after his death with rumors that he was a sorcerer with a thirst for forbidden knowledge.

Sylvester II’s Early Life

Gerbert of Aurillac was most likely born between 945 and 950 AD in southern France. As a boy, he was enrolled in a monastery school where he learned the three subjects that were foundational to a classical-style education: grammar, logic, and rhetoric. This grouping of subjects, known as the trivium, was not meant to be the end of the educational journey, as once the trivium was mastered, the quadrivium would build upon the knowledge of those subjects. The quadrivium consisted of the fields of math, geometry, music, and astronomy.

By the time that Gerbert was being educated, the teaching of those upper subjects had become practically extinct in France. In order to expand his knowledge and sate his curious mind, one had to travel far afield to seek instruction in the quadrivium, which is exactly what Gerbert did. He departed from the monastery and made his way south, across the Pyrenees, to Spain.

Secret Knowledge in Spain

Gerbert was a quick study and soon mastered the subjects he had set out to learn. But, Spain was rich in knowledge, some perilous to one’s immortal soul.

While learning the art of using the abacus, he came across a muslim philosopher whom he befriended. It is important to remember that at this time, the majority of Spain was controlled by the Caliphate of Cordoba, the last holdout of the Umayyad Dynasty after the Abbasid revolution in 750. His friendship with the philosopher led to him learning a great deal, for the philosopher was generous with his knowledge. But, according to legend, there was one book that the philosopher refused to show Gerbert, no matter how great his pleading. Gerbert appealed to their friendship, but the philosopher refused. Gerbert appealed to the love of God, but the philosopher refused. Gerbert offered him material riches, but the philosopher did not budge.

So, Gerbert turned to a more duplicitous plan to get the book that eluded him.

He seduced the philosopher’s daughter, and one night they got the philosopher drunk. They plied him with wine and, once he was unconscious from the amount of drink, they stole the book from under his pillow. Gerbert then fled into the night. Alone. Leaving the philosopher’s daughter behind once he acquired what he truly desired.

The philosopher would not give up the book, which contained all the secrets of his art, so easily. He used his extensive knowledge of the stars to track Gerbert. Though this was no mere navigation. The philosopher was able to use the stars to mystically divine Gerbert’s location. Gerbert realized what was happening and hatched a plan.

In order to make himself invisible to the philosopher’s divination, Gerber suspended himself under a bridge. Hanging from the bridge, not touching earth or water, he was able to elude his pursuer.

A Deal With the Devil

Though he was able to elude the philosopher with his clever trick, Gerbert knew that he would not be able to keep the charade up forever. Sooner or later, the philosopher would find him and take his revenge. Luckily for Gerbert, through the dark arts of astrology and necromancy he learned in Spain, he knew exactly what would protect him once and for all.

On the Spanish coast, Gerbert summoned the devil himself in a dark ritual. He said that his soul would be Satan’s for all eternity if the fallen one would protect him from the philosopher. The devil agreed and, his soul pledged to the lord of darkness, Gerbert was able to be transported across the Mediterranean to the coast of France.

Gerbert, knowing that there were always terms to infernal pacts, constructed a mechanical head that would be able to answer yes or no questions with perfect accuracy.

Gerbert asked the head if he would become Pope, to which it answered yes.

After further questioning, Gerbert asked the head if he would die before he sang Mass in Jerusalem. The head answered no.

So, Gerbert had his answer. He would be protected from Satan claiming his soul as long as he stayed away from the holy land. With this knowledge Gerbert could proceed with confidence, knowing that he would achieve the highest office in Christendom.

Climbing the Ladder

Upon returning to his homeland, Gerbert began to teach. He reintroduced the subjects of the quadrivium to France and taught the abacus as a means of computation.

In his years of teaching, he had two pupils who would go on to inhabit positions of great power. First was Robert, prince of France. After his accession to the French throne, King Robert appointed Gerbert as archbishop of Rheims. While there, Gerbert continued to show his brilliance (or perhaps his infernal knowledge) by constructing a mechanical clock as well as a hydraulic organ powered by heated water.

The second of his pupils was the future Holy Roman Emperor Otto III. This is particularly important because in this period, the pope was not chosen by the conclave that we are familiar with today. The pope was appointed by the Holy Roman Emperor himself. It was thus Gerbert’s good fortune that he was able to make such an impression on the man who would have the power to fill that position.

After Otto became Holy Roman Emperor, Gerbert was appointed first as archbishop of Ravenna and then, in 999, pope.

He took the name of Sylvester II.

Sylvester’s Sudden Death

One Sunday, Pope Sylvester was preparing to say mass at the basilica of Santa Croce. To this day, the basilica houses relics thought to be from the Passion of Jesus Christ, brought to Rome by the mother of Constantine, Helena, in the 4th century.

Unfortunately for Pope Sylvester, he either did not know or did not realize that Helena also brought to Rome soil from Jerusalem itself. That is why the full name of the basilica is Santa Croce in Gerusalemme. Technically, when Sylvester sang mass in Santa Croce, he was doing so in Jerusalem.

So, the devil would have his due that day.

Accounts differ on what happened. The more tame say that Sylvester began to feel unwell as soon as the mass had ended. Realizing what was happening, he desperately asked that his hand and tongue be separated from his body as they had blasphemed God. When he died later that day, it was discovered that his request was that his body be dismembered and separated before burial. Perhaps in some last-ditch effort to protect his soul from Hell.

Another version of the story says that Hell itself opened in Santa Croce and Satan and his demons came to collect their owed soul in person. The devil plucked out Sylvester’s eyes, and the demons played with them in the church nave.

Burial in St. John Lateran Basilica

Sylvester was hastily buried in St. John Lateran Basilica.

The inscription in Latin on his tomb reads:

“Iste locus Silvestris membra sepulti venturo Domino conferet ad sonitum,” in English, “This place will yield to the sound the limbs of buried Sylvester, at the advent of the Lord.”

The Latin was often read as “This place will make a sound,” rather than “yield to the sound.” 

This alternate reading gave rise to the belief that when the Lord comes to claim the soul of his servant, the bones themselves come together and rattle. As if Satan himself was clapping at the demise of the successor of St Peter.

What is the Source of Sylvester II’s Life Story?

The fanciful story of Pope Sylvester and his deal with the devil was a popular one throughout the Middle Ages. But where did it come from? And what did he do in order to be remembered as such a diabolical figure?

The primary source used for this particular version of the story comes from the English monk William of Malmesbury. In his book De Rebus Gestis Regnum Anglorum (On the Deeds of the Kings of the English), written over 100 years after Sylvester’s death, William takes a short digression to tell this story about his diabolical allegiance.

He does not cite a specific source for these claims; he just states that these facts are “generally related about him.” As further evidence, he says that in an old volume containing the names and years of all the popes, he found that Sylvester’s entry said, “Silvester, who was also called Gerbert, ten months; this man made a shameful end.” Of course, he only says it was an old book, and does not say what the name of it was.

Interestingly, William himself writes that, “some may regard all this as a fiction” because it was often said of scholars that if they excelled at science, they served the devil.

So, if William was getting these claims from generally known facts, who was the originator of these claims?

The Legacy of Pope Sylvester II

While it is difficult to say exactly, it appears that the claim can be traced back to Cardinal Beno of San Martino e Silvestro, who claimed in an explosive pamphlet that Sylvester consorted with dark powers. Why would he make such a claim? Again, it is difficult to say for certain, but Beno was writing during the Investiture Controversy and was aligned with the Holy Roman Emperor. His pamphlet was an attempt to bolster the status of the emperor’s position in the controversy against the pope.

Accusations of papal sorcery were not uncommon in the Medieval Period, but the legend surrounding Sylvester endured far longer. Perhaps this was because of the general distrust of the sciences and knowledge acquired from non-Christians. The legend of his rattling bones certainly also added to the mystique surrounding Sylvester.

In the mid-1600s, Sylvester’s tomb was opened during renovations to the Lateran basilica. It was said that his body bore no signs of decay, that he was as intact as the day he died centuries earlier. Then, the necromantic spell broke and his body disintegrated into ash. Even hundreds of years later, the legend was strong enough that it was still being added to.

Conclusion

The tale of the pope who sold his soul to the devil is certainly a good one. It is the kind of folk tale that is often told of the powerful. There is often an inherent distrust of authority figures, whom people believe must be in league with dark forces to amass all that they have. It can be seen in the modern era with conspiracy culture and the legends of the Illuminati and their dark allegiances.

If you are in Rome, be sure to seek out Sylvester II’s tomb in the Lateran Basilica. Think of him not only as his legend, but as a scholar who brought knowledge back to Christian Europe that had been forgotten for centuries. Think of him as an insatiably curious mind who, in the best tradition of academics throughout time, had a voracious need to understand how the world worked.

But also, keep your ears peeled. If you hear the sound of rattling bones, be sure to turn on the news, as there might be a new pope soon.

During a period known by later historians as the Saeculum Obscurum (the Dark Age), the Papacy was in a time of crisis. Following the Carolingian Empire’s disintegration, the Holy See became entangled in the petty politics of the Roman nobility. This period was dominated by those who saw the Papacy as a way to enrich themselves and their families. Through much of the 10th and 11th centuries, the Counts of Tusculum had a firm grip on the Papacy. From this ambitious family came one of the most scandalous popes in church history, Benedict IX.

The Young Pope

Theophylact was young when he became pope in 1032 and took the name Benedict IX, but it is debated exactly how young. Rodulfus Glaber claims in his Historium Libri Quince (The Five Books of the Histories) that Benedict was only ten years old when elevated, but that is most likely a gross exaggeration. While his birth year is not known exactly, he was likely born around 1012, making him about 20 years old when he became Pope. Still young, but not a child.

He was a nephew of the two previous popes, Benedict VIII and John XIX. His father, Alberic III of Tusculum, was said to have secured the position for his son solely through bribery. Vast sums of gold and silver were handed out in order for young Theophylact to be chosen as pope.

It is important to know that this occurred before the process of the conclave as we understand it today existed. The pope was not chosen by the cardinals of the Church. Rather, it was a delicate negotiation between the nobility of Rome, the people of Rome, and other interested parties such as the Holy Roman Emperor.

A Scandalous Pontificate

Benedict did not appear to have the constitution of a holy man. Desiderius of Monte Cassino (later Pope Victor III) says that his time as pope consisted of “rapes, murders, and other unspeakable acts.” Saint Peter Damian said of Pope Benedict IX that he routinely engaged in sodomy, bestiality, and orgies. Ferdinand Gregorovius, in his work History of the City of Rome in the Middle Ages, called Benedict “a demon from hell in the disguise of a priest.”

Whether there is some truth to these accusations or they were simply an attempt to smear a political opponent is difficult to know for certain. What we can say for certain is that there was enough discontent during his rule that there was an attempt on Benedict’s life in 1036 by a faction of the Roman nobility. The assassins tried to kill him in St. Peter’s Basilica, but he survived the attempt and fled the city.

Exile

Unfortunately for Benedict, the situation was not much better outside Rome. Northern Italy was in open rebellion against the Holy Roman emperor, turning the whole area into a war zone.

Benedict was on the run until 1037, when he had an audience with the emperor, who had just recently put down the Italian rebellion, and with the Emperor’s military support, he was returned to Rome to resume his pontificate.

But the emperor did not do this for free. The first thing that Emperor Conrad had Benedict do upon returning to Rome was to excommunicate Heribert, the archbishop of Milan, who had led the Italian rebellion against him.

Far from being the undisputed master of the Catholic Church like he is today, the pope in the 11th century was one of many power centers in the Christian world, and often had to take orders.

First Return

Once again secure in the city, Benedict resumed business as usual. However, for Benedict, that business was less holy than might be expected for the Pope.

In the words of Ferdinand Gregorovius, for the next seven years, he was “unceasingly occupied in plundering, murdering, and otherwise oppressing the Roman people.”

Eventually, another faction formed against Benedict, and he was once again expelled from the city in 1044. Lest you think the Roman nobility suddenly began to care about morality, it was far more likely that Benedict overstepped his bounds and upset the delicate balance of feudal power. In any case, Benedict was again driven from Rome, but this time the Romans installed a new pope in his place, Sylvester III.

Sylvester is often listed as an antipope as Benedict was not formally deposed from the Papacy, though Sylvester held Rome and appeared to exercise power as de facto Pope, if not de jure. In any case, Benedict was not away for long. He fled to his family’s power base of Tusculum and, within 50 days, he returned to Rome with an army at his back and retook the Papacy.

Sylvester fled to Sabina, still claiming to be the true pope.

Selling the Papacy

In 1045, shortly after his return to the Papacy, Benedict began to have doubts about the clerical life he saw before him. At this point, he was still a young man, approximately 33 years old, and a woman (whose name was not written in the historical record) had stolen his heart, and he wanted to marry her. That woman just so happened to be his cousin.

With all of his doubts, he went to his godfather, John Gration. Benedict asked his godfather’s advice, and after careful deliberation, John suggested that Benedict could resign from the Papacy. But that would leave the question of who would replace Benedict.

Benedict made it known that he would like to be repaid for his “expenses,” and John dutifully provided Benedict with an estimated 2,000 pounds of gold.

Having sold the papal crown for a kingly sum of money, Benedict went to live the debaucherous life of a young nobleman in the countryside. In the words of Desiderius of Monte Cassino, “Devoted to pleasure he preferred to live rather like Epicurus than like a bishop… he left the city and he took himself to one of his castles in the country.”

The Council of Sutri

The new pope took the name Gregory VI, and immediately found himself having to deal with the antipope Sylvester III, who had never given up his claim to be the true successor of Peter.

Shortly into his retirement, however, Benedict found himself questioning his decision to resign the papacy. Perhaps secular life wasn’t all he had hoped it would be, or perhaps he missed the power he once held. Perhaps his money had simply run out. His cousin may have also rejected his marriage proposal, invalidating the whole reason he sold the Papacy in the first place.

For whatever reason, Benedict reasserted his claim to the Papacy. This left his godfather having to deal with a second antipope.

Different factions in Rome were pledged to all three papal candidates, and violence between them was becoming endemic. Something needed to be done to restore order to the chaos that was engulfing the center of Catholicism.

Enter Holy Roman Emperor Henry III, who crossed the Alps and entered Italy in 1046 to restore order.

He held the Council of Sutri to resolve the question once and for all—although Gregory was the only claimant to show up to receive the emperor’s judgement.

Henry declared that Sylvester and Benedict were both illegitimate, but so was Gregory, as he had only ascended to the See of Rome through open simony. All the papal candidates thus declared illegitimate, Henry named the German bishop of Bamberg, Suidger, Clement II.

Second Return

Unfortunately for the stability of the Papacy, Clement died after less than a year.

Benedict was accused of poisoning Clement, but that is most likely not the case. Clement was old when he became pope, and he had been traveling, so it is entirely possible he died of natural causes.

In any case, Benedict seized the opportunity presented by the Pontiff’s premature passing and marched on Rome. He took the city and ruled it as de facto pope for eight months before he was again driven out of the city by a detachment of the emperor’s troops.

Recent history repeated itself, though, and his successor, Damasus II, only reigned for less than a month before he died of fever on August 9, 1048. However, Benedict was either unwilling or unable to take advantage of the chaos this time.

Later Life

So, what did Benedict’s post-papal life look like?

There are two divergent traditions on the direction of Benedict’s later life. One is that he remained the pleasure-seeking hedonist, never giving up his claim to the Papacy.

However, according to Luke, the seventh abbot of Grottaferrata, Benedict desired repentance in his later life. The Abbot said, “He who then presided over the Apostolic See, a mere youth, was a slave to pleasure, and through human frailty had fallen into sin. At last, turning from passion and seeking absolution for what he had done amiss, he wished to have our father to reconcile him and intercede for him.”

Furthermore, until 1713, it was attested that there was a piece of artwork in the abbey that shows “a cowled monk holding in his hand a tiara which he was presenting to our Lady. Beneath was an inscription, ‘Benedictus IX,’” suggesting that Benedict did renounce his claim to the Papacy and lived out his life in Grottaferrata.

Did Benedict show true repentance for his actions, or was this all wishful thinking by those who knew it would make a great story? As with so many questions in history, we will never truly know.

Legacy

The story of Benedict IX and his many times as pope is a microcosm of the trouble with the Papacy itself in the 10th and 11th centuries. Rather than a source of spiritual authority and guidance, the office of the Bishop of Rome was coveted for its secular power.

The pope was a king like any other in Europe, thanks to the Papal States, that chunk of central Italy that was gifted to the pope by Charlemagne and remained under Papal authority until the unification of Italy in the mid-19th century. In the Medieval Period, land was wealth, and securing a relative or an ally as the Pope was an excellent way to enrich your family.

Because of the unique nature of succession to the office, the seat could change hands multiple times, leading to fierce battles over which family or faction would be able to siphon off the wealth of the Papal States into their own coffers. In addition to the chaos this caused, it meant that men were elevated to the Papacy who were more preoccupied with excess than the Eucharist.

While the legacy of the Saeculum Obscurum in general, and Benedict IX in particular, could have been the dissolution of the Papacy as an institution, that is not what happened.

By being at the absolute nadir of Papal history, Benedict directly influenced a series of reforms by later popes. The chaos of his reign made it absolutely clear that something needed to change. In 1059, the College of Cardinals was established and designated as the sole electors of the pope in an attempt to remove the influence of the Roman nobility. There was a crackdown on simony, the act of buying or selling office, a huge problem in the Church, and brought into focus by the absurdity of the Papacy itself being sold.

So, while the Catholic Church may wish to forget that Benedict IX was once pope, he had a huge impact on how the Church became what it is today. By embodying everything that a pope should not be, he made the case for reform impossible to ignore.

The Exodus is one of the Bible’s most dramatic stories. It has been made into multiple feature films, all of which include the scene of Moses’s mother Jochebed putting the baby Moses to float in a basket on the Nile River. The baby’s sister keeps a vigilant eye on him from a distance to see what would happen. This affectionate scene, however, contrasts with the relationship these siblings seem to have had as adults. 

Miriam Is Moses’s Older Sister

The stories of Moses in Egypt leaves many key players unnamed. The Pharaoh, for example, is never identified. This has led to a great deal of debate about when Moses lived in Egypt.

Two others left unnamed in the story of Moses’s infancy are his mother and sister. If read on its own, this story would leave the reader assuming that Moses was his mother and father’s first child, and that his sister is either a half-sibling or a person of more distant kinship. Later, when Moses is an adult, Aaron is introduced as his older brother, but he does not appear in the narrative of Moses’s early childhood. 

Ambiguity about Miriam’s relationship to Moses arises again in Exodus chapter fifteen, where she is identified as the “sister of Aaron.” While readers are aware that Aaron is Moses’s brother and can, therefore, logically conclude that the three of them are siblings, the reference to Aaron and Miriam’s familial tie without a mention of Moses has drawn attention from some scholars. Some suggest that there were originally differing traditions about Miriam—one in which she and Aaron are Moses’s nuclear siblings and another in which she and Aaron are related to him more distantly. 

Regardless, once the pieces are fitted together, Moses is presented as the youngest of three siblings who all have the same mother and father. Miriam appears to be the oldest of the three. 

Moses Was Adopted by an Egyptian Princess

Moses’s upbringing was clearly distinct from that of his siblings. Because she also goes unnamed, the identity of the princess who fishes Moses out of the Nile River and then adopts him as her child remains unknown. But according to the narrative, it is due to the quick thinking of Moses’s sister—traditionally, Miriam—that he grew up with some Hebrew influence. The text does no clarify exactly how much, but he was under the care of his biological mother at least until he was weaned. 

When the princess draws Moses out of the river, Miriam immediately approaches the royal and asks if she might be in need of a wet nurse for the child. Miriam then brings Jochebed, his biological mother, to fulfill the role. Her action, thus, puts Moses back into the care of his Hebrew parents even as he is adopted into the royal family. 

Miriam Is One of Israel’s Leaders after Their Exodus from Egypt

Miriam is one of only four women given the title of “prophet” in the Bible, and the text clearly suggests that her authority held sway during Israel’s years of wandering before they entered Canaan. She is remembered fondly as the leader of the celebratory procession after the Israelites’ storied crossing of the Red Sea. 

Unfortunately, however, a rivalry developed between Miriam and Aaron and their brother Moses. In Numbers chapter twelve, the two siblings challenge Moses regarding something having to do with his Cushite wife. The text provides no details about why they disapprove of his marriage, but it is somehow related to how Moses seems to view his own prophetic status. It appears that Miriam and Aaron thought themselves equals to Moses as prophetic leaders. In a stern rebuke of their audacity, God strikes Miriam with a severe skin rash. Aaron, however, does not seem to have suffered a similar consequence.

Who Is Miriam in Ancient Sources Outside the Bible? 

When few details are provided in the biblical text, later traditions often arise that fill in gaps about characters in its stories. The Dead Sea Scrolls contain a text that dates to the second century BCE called the Visions of Amram. Amram is the name of Moses, Aaron, and Miriam’s father in the Bible. In this ancient document, Miriam is said to have married her uncle Uzziel, who is identified in the Bible as Amram’s brother. The couple is said to have had three sons. Writing in the first century CE, the Jewish historian Josephus identifies Hur, a different biblical character, as Miriam’s husband. 

Did Miriam have a family? If she did, neither her husband nor her offspring are mentioned in the Bible. Like Moses, Miriam’s legacy cannot be traced through a physical lineage. The meaning of her life lies instead within her own character, her place in the biblical story, and her contribution to the formation of ancient Israelite and, later, Jews’ understanding of their own identity and values.

On July 18, 1290, King Edward I of England issued the Edict of Expulsion, ordering all the Jews to leave the territories of the Kingdom by November 1. The decision was the result of decades-long restrictions on Jewish communities, including high taxation and accusations of usury and ritual crimes. The edict represented the culmination of a gradually increasing antisemitism in Europe. It was also the first recorded instance of a European country banning Jews from their socio-political lives.

Jews in Medieval England Before the Edict of Expulsion

Jews first established communities in England during the reign of William the Conqueror in 1066. King William invited Jews residing in Rouen, a city in northern France, to relocate to England. According to contemporary historical accounts, one of the leading reasons for such an invitation was King William’s financial considerations.

During that time, taxes and payments to the throne were made through services or goods rather than actual money. King William sought to change this system. To successfully implement his plan, he began searching for skilled merchants and moneylenders worldwide. The Jewish community of Rouen accepted the offer and relocated to England, where they initially prospered in centers such as Norwich and Lincoln.

During his reign, King William also introduced the feudal system in England, intending to consolidate his power as the country’s new monarch. Feudalism introduced the hierarchical structure of land ownership. All land was placed under the control of King William, who redistributed it to his loyal nobles in exchange for their political support and military service. At the bottom of the hierarchy were serfs, or peasants who lived and worked on the land and provided lords with produce and services.

Merchants were granted a special status within the system. Under the Laws of Edward the Confessor—and the later Charter of Liberties issued under King Richard I and King John—Jews enjoyed a similar position. Indeed, these documents outlined Jews’ right to “freely and honourably” live in England and enjoy the same “liberties and customs” for as long as they served the king in charge.

In particular, the monarchs declared Jews under their direct control instead of being obliged to the lords.

Over time, Jews acquired a particularly strong stance in English society. Since the Church of England forbade lending money for profit, Jews filled in the gap, taking advantage of their unique status. Canon law did not apply to Jews, and Judaism permitted loans with interest between Jews and non-Jews.

Establishing Jews as the kingdom’s key money lenders was also influenced by the fact that the Christian guild was under the control of several major professions at that time, including arts and crafts. As a result, many Jews found themselves prohibited from practicing them. Jews could not own land either, and thus were limited in agricultural activities. As a result, moneylending became the only reliable source of income for Jewish communities, though under the control of the throne.

Jewish Communities During the Reign of King Henry III (1207-1272)

During King Henry III‘s reign (1207-1272), Jews were successfully used by the throne to introduce indirect taxes without needing consent from the parliament. The king taxed Jews, while moneylender Jews demanded payment from their debtors.

The monarch could seize a portion of these earnings as he pleased. In this way, the Jewish communities acted as a monetary filter. They managed loans and interest, while the king benefited by using these profits to fund his treasury. If the benefit could not be secured, the king could detain Jews or seize their properties. However, the Jewish exchequer, or the king’s department dealing with the matter, was often inefficient. As a result, it was hard to collect reliable information on moneylending activities.

Between 1227 and 1259, King Henry III taxed Jews about £250,000. Historian Cecil Roth remarks, “The King [Henry III] was like a spendthrift with a checkbook, drawing one amount after another in utter indifference to the dwindling of his resources.”

Despite their special status, Jews experienced segregation and oppression. During the reign of King Henry III, England became the first European country to require Jews to wear identifying badges. The yellow badges segregated Jews from the broader Christian population.

The Rise of Antisemitism in England

Over time, Jews acquired a reputation as moneylenders in English society. The negative association between Judaism and moneylending was further instilled by the Church of England, which viewed the activity as sinful and in contradiction with Christian beliefs. The general public also grew increasingly unsympathetic towards Jews, while the Church continued to foster resentment towards them by declaring them enemies of Christianity.

As a result, various harmful folklore tales emerged. One of the most well-known was the so-called “blood libel.” According to the myth, Jews collected the blood of young Christians to practice religious rituals, such as making matzah, an unleavened flatbread.

These prejudices against Jews further fueled antisemitism, sparking public unrest and violence.

King Edward I & the Statute of the Jewry

Antisemitism in England intensified when King Edward I (1239-1307) returned to England in 1274 from the Ninth Crusade. Along with the wider antisemitic environment in England, Edward also felt personal resentment towards the Jewish communities. Historical sources indicate that Edward treated Jews unsympathetically as a devoted Christian. However, despite denouncing moneylending and declaring it to be in contradiction with Christian values, he still continued to heavily tax Jews to acquire profit. This suggests that Edward’s actions were driven more by political and economic motives than by genuine religious piety.

In 1275, Edward introduced the Statute of the Jewry, a set of new restrictions severely impacting the Jewish communities’ lives in England. In the statute, Edward dictated: “From henceforth no Jew shall lend anything at usury, either upon land, or upon rent, or upon other things.”

The statute further attacked the Jews, proclaiming “that each one after he should be twelve years old, pay three pence yearly at Easter of tax to the king of whose bondman he is.”

Edward also ordered to prohibit Jews from practicing usury. The new restrictions undermined and weakened Jewish communities as their role as a leading moneylender was weakened.

Another contributing factor to the Jewish community’s economic marginalization was the opening of England’s borders to foreign trade in the 13th century.

Moneylenders from other countries, mainly from Lombardy, Italy, started to fill in the gaps left by the Statute of the Jewry. Italian moneylenders offered loans with a grace period—a more flexible approach and a beneficial alternative for English debtors.

Additionally, in 1283, King Edward I introduced the Statute of Merchants, favoring foreign merchants. The document declared that the local mayors were entitled to help foreign moneylenders collect their payments. The Statute of Merchants further strengthened foreign merchants’ economic position in England but marginalized the role of Jews as one of the key financial drivers of English society.

By the second half of the 1280s, Edward I faced significant financial challenges due to his ongoing conflict with France over the Duchy of Gascony. This wealthy southwestern French region was under English control but subject to French suzerainty. The dispute required substantial funding to support military campaigns. To secure the Parliament’s grant of further taxation to fund his war efforts against France, Edward had to make sacrifices. The expulsion of the Jews was the price he agreed to pay.

This decision marked a turning point for Jewish communities in England, resulting in their eventual expulsion from the territories of the kingdom.

Accusations of Coin Clipping & Imposing the Edict of Expulsion

As the position of Jewish communities in the Kingdom of England was severely weakened and the wider public grew increasingly unsympathetic, accusations of “coin clipping” (the practice of shaving precious metal from coins) were leveled against Jews. Even though these accusations were not officially proven, they served as a prerequisite for the king to arrest or execute Jews, culminating in Edward I’s decision to expel all the Jews from England.

On July 18, 1290, King Edward I issued the Edict of Expulsion. The king named the Jews’ disobedience to the Statute of Jewry as the official reason for declaring the expulsion. The decision was not opposed; on the contrary, the wider public welcomed it.

According to the edict, Jews would be expelled from the Kingdom of England until November 1, or All Saints’ Day. The expulsion appeared relatively easy to execute because the Jewish community in England comprised about 3,000 people, less than 1% of the population.

King Edward I allowed Jews to take money and personal belongings. However, he seized Jewish-owned homes, land, synagogues, cemeteries, and other buildings, which were later sold for the throne’s profit. Jews found new homes in different parts of the world. Jewish refugees settled mainly in France, Italy, Spain, and Germany. Records of Jews relocating as far as Cairo, Egypt, were also found.

King Edward received a tax of £116,000 from the British parliament in exchange for the Edict of Expulsion.

Legacy of the Edict of Expulsion

Though the edict is regarded as the culmination of a century-long growing antisemitism in the Kingdom of England, at the time, it helped King Edward I to portray himself as the protector of Christians against Jews, acquiring praise and recognition for these efforts.

In an essay published In Explanation of the Exodus (1891), writer Leonard GH notes:

“The matter is popularly explained on the score of religious bigotry: the people, it is said, are ignorant fanatics, led on by a less ignorant but more fanatical clergy, and the King shares in the fanaticism of his people.”

The Edict of Expulsion would remain in force for more than 300 years. It was officially overturned in 1665 when Oliver Cromwell, an English statesman and prominent politician, informally permitted the resettlement of the Jews in England.