With a string of venalities and controversies surrounding the papacy, the hearts of men began to turn against the office and the ancient church structure. At the forefront of the pre-Reformation movement were John Wycliffe and John Huss. Wycliffe’s writings and teachings would prove highly influential, leading to a popular following comprised of the Lollards. And when that influence reached Bohemia, John Huss took it even farther.
Show Transcript
Shalom, and welcome to our history podcast. This is a production of Kingdom Preppers.org. I’m your host, Kingdom Prepper, and you’re listening to: Churchianity: Two Thousand Years of Leaven. We continue with our history.
Part 22: Wycliffe and Huss
The flaws of the church, though evident at its very foundation, were most apparent at its apex, as the leadership revealed through a string of venalities and controversies, culminating in the so-called Babylonian Captivity in Avignon, as well as the Great Schism, that Christianity was a corruption of truth from the top down. Attempted internal reforms, such as those brought on by general councils—otherwise known as the conciliar movement—failed. The concept of the papacy being the earthly ecclesiastical office that channeled the will of the Most High became an absurdity to a few.
Among the men who challenged that long-held viewpoint were John Wycliffe and John Huss. Wycliffe was alive during the papacy’s Avignon period and died after the beginning of the Great Schism in 1384. Huss was condemned and burned at the stake as a heretic at the Council of Constance. A prior pre-Reformation reform was attempted around 1173 by a man named Waldo, who was a merchant that decided to give all his wealth to the poor. He taught on the streets of Lyons and believed the Christian leadership to be thoroughly corrupt. To his understanding, the Scriptures were to be made accessible to all, thus, he had them translated into French. While he did not directly oppose the church, but sought to reform it, he was forced from Lyons and so took his message throughout the middle portion of France. Those who believed his preaching and followed him were called Waldensians. That movement was quickly suppressed, however, and they were forced underground to worship in poor regions of the Alps, Bohemia, and other areas. Therefore, as Will Durant writes in his book The Reformation:
“The Reformation really began with John Wycliffe in the fourteenth century, progressed with John Huss in the fifteenth, and culminated explosively in the sixteenth with the reckless monk of Wittenberg.”
That being Martin Luther. John Wycliffe, who preceded him, was either lauded by men of his day for his zealous nature, or villainized for that very nature, which led him to take a strong stance against the church. His early life is obscured in the shadow of history, but he bears the name of the Yorkshire village where he was born and raised, Wycliffe-on-Tees in northern England. His family owned land in that village, and by the time he was twelve or thereabouts, the village fell under the jurisdiction of the second son of King Edward III, John of Gaunt, who would later figure prominently in Wycliffe's life. In 1345, he landed at Oxford, where he enrolled as a student at around fifteen years of age. Wycliffe, who became famous for his bookish learning and keen logic, left the school briefly to enter politics in service to the crown. England was establishing itself as a nation at the time, so this was a crucial period. English had become the language of the elite and the government, replacing Norman French, and the burgeoning nation passed statutes that aimed to limit papal interference in its ecclesiastical elections. King Edward III would use his authority to appoint Wycliffe to the parish of Lutterworth, where he preached until his death.
Wycliffe earned a doctoral degree in 1372 and became a prominent professor at Oxford. A heavily debated topic at the time was the idea of the right of dominion over men. Professors at Oxford were already questioning this matter when Wycliffe added an important equation to it. His view was that the English monarchy retained the power, by divine right, to check the authority of the church leadership, particularly when they abused their offices through some sinful act. The property of the clergy should even be seized if they proved corrupt. In 1377, Wycliffe’s teaching was condemned by the pope, and it took the intervention of his influential English friends to prevent the pope from taking further action against him.
“Any cleric living in a state of mortal sin would inescapably have forfeited his claims to ecclesiastical dominions or lands.”
Writes Kevin Madigan, in Medieval Christianity.
“These, Wyclif concluded, could then be taken, with justice, from the church by civil and secular rulers. This conclusion won Wyclif the appreciation of the nobility, of many ordinary critics of clerical wealth, and even of the mendicant orders, who of course wished, at least in theory, for those living the apostolic life to be poor.
“Bishops and popes were considerably less exuberant. Indeed, in 1377, Wyclif was summoned to appear before an assembly of bishops in London. They wanted him to defend his views in person. In the event, he was protected by John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, and the proceedings never took place. The same year, Pope Gregory XI, perhaps encouraged by Benedictine antagonists of Wyclif, published a list of eighteen errors in Wyclif’s works. They also called for his examination and arrest. Again, Wyclif was protected by powerful figures.”
In 1378, when Wycliffe’s reforming efforts deepened, the Great Schism of the papacy was getting underway. The schism was the perfect fodder for Wycliffe’s push for church reform. Like the early monks, Wycliffe saw the excesses and worldly luxuries of the papacy as the antithesis of the lowly Israelite emissaries to whom they often pointed. In view of those poor and humble men, neither should popes possess political power. With two rival popes seeking to excommunicate the other and claim legitimacy, John Wycliffe vented his disparaging view of the papal office. The Messiah “is truth,” wrote Wycliffe. “The pope is the principle of falsehood.” While Yeshua lived in poverty, he added that “the pope labors for worldly magnificence.” And where Yeshua refused temporal dominion, “the pope,” he wrote acidly, “seeks it.” He found fault with the church’s practice of pardons, absolutions, indulgences, its worship of images, its pilgrimages, and even its worship of supposed saints. He also had strong views on the authoritative position of Scripture. “Neither the testimony of Augustine,” he said, “nor Jerome, nor any other saint should be accepted except in so far as it was based upon Scripture.”
The greatest hostility he faced, however, was derived from his negative views on the sacrament of the eucharist. Wycliffe released twelve strong arguments against the communion ceremony in the summer of 1380, refuting the idea that the bread and wine that was prayed over and served were actually transformed into the body and blood of the Messiah. Because this deeply held belief was at the very heart of Catholicism, Wycliffe immediately began to see his support dwindle. His teachings were condemned by a small council and he was forbidden to lecture at the university. Another council, called by the Archbishop of Canterbury, condemned further writings as heretical. Wycliffe is even credited with fomenting the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, though he did not initiate it. Another man named Wat Tyler actually led the revolt. Inspired by the Messiah himself, however, Wycliffe is responsible for dispatching lowly priests into the villages of the poor, and even to rural churches to reach the neglected and downtrodden.
These poor priests traveled far and wide in russet robes and unrefined wool, without sandals or satchels, and carrying only long staffs in hand. Their food was provided by the peasants with whom they lodged or passed, who gladly received their word, which was based on Wycliffe’s teachings. The priests were dubbed the Lollards, a pejorative meaning mumblers, likely for the manner in which they mumbled their prayers. They became a bane to the nobility, the monarchy, and the church. In 1382, Wycliffe was expelled from the University of Oxford altogether and lost the status of a master. Regardless of this, the Lollards spread Wycliffe’s doctrine and preached that the Scriptures should be read by all. But they were forcefully put down since the church saw them as heretics. Chris Wickham, writing in his book, Medieval Europe, adds:
“[O]ne prominent Lollard, Sir John Oldcastle, staged a half-hearted revolt in 1414, which led to a clamp-down on Lollards generally, and an increasing marginalization of them in England across the rest of the century. By now, however, Wycliffite views had gone well beyond the university, and sometimes changed as a result; Lollards were often self-educated preachers, the sort of people who had been ‘good men’ in the ‘Cathar’ period in southern Europe. Not unlike earlier lay heretics, they regarded the authority of scripture, which they had by now in English, as superior to that of the church, rejected the latter’s temporal power (here they were at their most Wycliffite), and for the most part rejected transubstantiation.”
Despite his penchant for church reform due to evils practiced by the clergy, Wycliffe is guilty of benefiting from an ecclesiastical appointment in return for his political service. He even refused to relinquish a few strongly-held Catholic beliefs, such as the concept of purgatory and prayers offered up to supposed saints. And while he decried the practice of Christians relying on the ideas of respected theologians over that of Scripture, he quoted heavily from the works of Augustine of Hippo.
Wycliffe met his end in 1384 after suffering a stroke during communion. Dying in this way moved the church to bury him in what it viewed as consecrated ground, but because of his radical viewpoints and negative teachings against long-held Catholic doctrines, he was condemned at the Council of Constance. Thus, his remains were dug up and burned in the manner of a heretic, and his ashes scattered to the winds over the river Swift.
Despite his death, the Lollards continued to spread Wycliffe’s message for a time and, at their height, they even attracted members of the nobility to their numbers. Their favorable situation prompted the Lollards to appeal to Parliament to change the law regarding heresy, but their petition failed to take root and, faced with growing opposition, the nobility abandoned them and returned to the mother church. After John Oldcastle’s failed revolt in 1414 the gentry largely withdrew its support of the movement, thus Lollardism spread to the lower classes and took a more radical bent. In 1431, a conspiracy was discovered among the Lollards that sought to bring sweeping church reform and ultimately overthrow the English government. It was suppressed, and further persecutions followed.
The Lollards were not completely defeated, however, and they continued to dot the landscape for decades. In the early sixteenth century, they experienced a revival which led to the condemnation of many of its members who were killed as a result. When the Protestant Reformation was fully underway, Lollards figured prominently among protestants in England. Well before that time, however, Wycliffe’s anti-Catholic teachings had spread to distant Bohemia, where another influential reformer would take up the reins of the pre-Reformation movement.
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Wycliffe’s teachings and influence spread from his immediate surroundings to the distant land of Bohemia through several paths. First, a literary and theological link extended from Oxford, where Wycliffe taught, to the University of Prague. That link was further strengthened after Anne of Bohemia wed King Richard II of England in 1383. With this, students of both countries frequently traveled back and forth, and Czech students in particular would be drawn to Oxford in droves where they would directly encounter the works of Wycliffe. Kevin Madigan adds that:
“A second path has less to do with ecclesiastical politics than intellectual commitments, particularly the appreciation in Prague for Wyclif’s philosophical views. A crucial factor here, one that would inform ecclesiastical and academic life in Prague in coming decades, was the desire of the Czech professors—or, as they were also called, ‘masters’ (magistri)—to distinguish themselves, philosophically speaking, from their German counterparts. By roughly 1390, Czech students returning from Oxford had begun to acquaint their compatriots with Wyclif’s epistemological views, which contrasted to the moderate nominalism embraced by most German masters. Well before Wyclif’s theological works had begun to appear in Prague, his reputation as a bold and stimulating philosophical intellect was well established among the Czech masters.”
In the early fifteenth century, following his death—and after his writings had been placed under a ban by the church—Wycliffe’s teachings still managed to wield their influence far and wide. In Bohemia (a former kingdom of the Czech Republic) that influence reached John Huss. While a professor at the University of Prague, Huss borrowed heavily from both Wycliffe and the Lollards and began to spread their message. Like them, he was big on church reform and seeing a greater emphasis placed on Scripture rather than the authority of the papacy.
John Huss was born to a pair of peasants in a little town for which he was named, that being Husinetz in southern Bohemia. He later attended the University of Prague and earned both a bachelor of arts and a master of arts prior to beginning his teaching career. After being appointed to the pulpit of Bethlehem Chapel near the university, Huss finally had an opportunity to circulate the teachings of Wycliffe, which included his own bitter criticisms against papal abuses of power. He was an ordained priest who had reformed his own life, living along the austere lines of a monk.
“As head of the Bethlehem Chapel, he became the most famous preacher in Prague.”
Writes Will Durant.
“Many figures high in the court were among his listeners, and Queen Sophia made him her chaplain. He preached in Czech, and taught his congregation to take an active part in the service by singing hymns. His accusers later affirmed that in the very first year of his ministry he had echoed Wyclif’s doubts as to the disappearance of bread and wine from the consecrated elements in the Eucharist. Unquestionably he had read some of Wyclif’s works; he had made copies of them which still exist with his annotations; and at his trial he confessed to having said: ‘Wyclif, I trust, will be saved; but could I think he would be damned, I would my soul were with his.’ ”
By 1403, Wycliffe’s writings had reached a point of influence in the University of Prague that forced a decision to be made concerning their fate. The cathedral’s administrative clergy called for a vote by the university’s masters as to whether or not forty-five articles from Wycliffe’s writings should be banned. Huss and several other professors voted against this idea, but the majority were in favor of a permanent ban on their teaching or adoption by the faculty either in public or private. Also, none would be allowed to defend those articles.
Huss, despite this prohibition, ended up being reproved by the archbishop of Prague for violating it. The archbishop later excommunicated Huss and several other priests. When the small company continued to serve as priests regardless, all of Prague was placed on an interdict, which cut off the city from enjoying perceived religious privileges. The archbishop also called for as many of Wycliffe’s writings as could be found to be brought forth. Some two hundred manuscripts were found in Bohemia and handed over. They were burned in his palace courtyard. This caused Huss to appeal to Pope John XXIII, but when the pope summoned Huss to appear before him in the papal court Huss did not comply.
“In 1411 the pope, desiring funds for a crusade against Ladislas, King of Naples, announced a new offering of indulgences.”
Writes Will Durant.
“When this was proclaimed in Prague, and the papal agents seemed to the reformers to be selling forgiveness for coin, Huss and his chief supporter, Jerome of Prague, publicly preached against indulgences, questioned the existence of purgatory, and protested against the church’s collecting money to spill Christian blood. Descending to vituperation, Huss called the pope a money-grubber.”
He even labeled him Antimessiah.
“A large section of the public shared Huss’s views, and subjected the papal agents to such ridicule and abuse that the king forbade any further preaching or action against the offering of indulgences. Three youths who violated this edict were hailed before the city council; Huss pleaded for them, and admitted that his preaching had aroused them; they were condemned and beheaded. The pope now launched his own excommunication against Huss; and when Huss ignored it John laid an interdict upon any city where he should stay in 1411. On the advice of the king, Huss left Prague, and remained in rural seclusion for two years.”
Kevin Madigan adds that he spent those …
“… two years in the castles of his noble supporters, first near Prague, then at Kozi Hradek in southern Bohemia, and finally at Krakovec in the west.”
During this time, Huss dedicated himself to writing several works, a few of which borrowed from the Waldensians who had been pushed into Bohemia in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; the bulk of his writings were heavily influenced by Wycliffe, however. Huss was against the worship of images, auricular confession to priests, and the ongoing act of simony. He openly denounced the fees priests charged for performing baptisms, marriages, Mass, and burials. One treatise he wrote, De ecclesia, contained writings that were used to prove him heretical, and for which he was condemned to death by burning.
Huss agreed with others before him, such as Wycliffe and Marsilius of Padua, that the church was to have no worldly possessions. The pope, he held, was not his infallible head, or anyone else’s for that matter. That position belonged to the Messiah. Huss also held that if a pope were in error, one would be obeying the Messiah by rebelling against that pope. Will Durant adds that:
“When a general council met at Constance in 1414 to depose three rival popes and enact a program of ecclesiastical reform, a chance seemed open to reconcile the Hussites with the church. Emperor Sigismund, heir apparent to the childless Wenceslaus IV, was anxious to restore religious unity and peace in Bohemia. He suggested that Huss should go to Constance and attempt a reconciliation. For this hazardous journey he offered Huss a safe-conduct to Constance, a public hearing before the council, and a free and safe return to Bohemia in case Huss should reject the judgment of the assembly.”
While some cautioned him against making the trip, Huss packed and traveled to Constance in October of 1414 in the company of three members of the Czech nobility and several Bohemian friends. Almost simultaneously, an adversary named Stephen of Palecz and various other opponents of Huss made their way to Constance as well, intent on indicting him before the council.
Upon arrival in Constance, Huss was treated warmly and enjoyed personal freedom. It was when Stephen of Palecz approached the council and presented to it the many heresies Huss had clung to that things changed. Huss was brought before the council and peppered with questions. Refusing to shrink from the intense scrutiny, he offered up answers that caused the council to view him as a true heretic, for which they imprisoned him. Huss became gravely ill to the point of death as a result, and physicians were sent by the pope himself to see to his treatment and recovery.
Emperor Sigismund by this time had expressed to the council his regret that it had countermanded him in refusing to uphold his promise to Huss of a safe-conduct. The council argued that when it came to matters of the church and trying its enemies, the state had no jurisdiction, thus the council could overrule the emperor. In the spring of 1415, the month of April, Huss was transferred to the fortress of Gottlieben, which was situated on the Rhine. There they placed him in fetters and neglected to feed him sufficiently. Huss soon grew ill to the point of death once more.
After seven agonizing months of imprisonment, Huss was dragged in chains before the council on three separate occasions in July. This time they questioned him concerning his views on Wycliffe’s forty-five articles that stood condemned. While Huss claimed to disagree with many of them, he agreed with a few. The council later focused its attention on Huss’s own treatise, De ecclesia. Huss offered to recant whatever points he had made in his writings if those points could be disproven by Scripture. Martin Luther would use the same argument in the next century.
Despite Huss’s position on the matter …
“The council argued that Scripture must be interpreted not by the free judgment of individuals but by the heads of the church.”
Writes Will Durant.
“[A]nd it demanded that Huss should retract all the quoted articles without reservation. Both his friends and his accusers pleaded with him to yield. He refused. He lost the good will of the vacillating emperor by declaring that a secular as well as a spiritual authority ceases to be a lawful ruler the moment he falls into mortal sin. Sigismund now informed Huss that if the council condemned him his safe-conduct would be automatically canceled.”
The questioning continued for three days, yet Huss would not allow the influence of the emperor or the cardinals to get him to recant. He was imprisoned once more and four weeks would pass while the council considered the matter. Huss maintained his position on the church despite more attempts by the emperor who sent representatives to get him to change his mind. He was unyielding in his argument, stating, as always, that Scripture alone would prove him wrong and force him to recant.
Finally, the council had had enough, so on July 6, 1415, while gathered in the cathedral that served Constance, it formally condemned Huss along with the deceased Wycliffe and ordered that Huss’s writings be burned. Huss was then placed in the custody of the secular powers. They immediately stripped him of his frock and ushered him out of the city to the place prepared for him. There stood a wood heap on which he would be consumed as a victim of the Inquisition. He was offered a final chance to recant but refused, and while reciting psalms, fire engulfed him.
But alas, as Norman F. Cantor writes in his book The Civilization of the Middle Ages:
“The death of Hus did not end the Hussite heresy, however. The conversion of another Bohemian national leader to the Hussite doctrine sparked resistance to a German invasion aimed at subjugating the heretics. Even after Bohemian resistance collapsed, the heresy survived. Today it forms the basis for the teachings of the Moravian Church…. The growing power of national states in the late fifteenth century led to further domination of the church by national governments. Henceforth the pope could not effectively intervene in ecclesiastical affairs within the states of Europe, nor could he play a decisive role in international politics…. The papacy and the college of cardinals remained preoccupied with Italian politics and dynastic struggles, while growing nationalistic feelings added fuel to the fires of religious discontent in northern Europe. All this precluded the recovery of the glories of the thirteenth-century papacy. It also set the stage for the final blow to the universal authority of the church, the Reformation of the sixteenth century.”
That wraps it up for this episode of Churchianity: Two Thousand Years of Leaven. A production of Kingdom Preppers.org, this episode was written, produced, and hosted by yours truly, Kingdom Prepper. All praise, honor, and glory are due to my boss, Yah Elohim, and to his right hand, Yahushua HaMashiach. You can access the transcript for this episode on our website. Yah willing, our history will continue in the next podcast. Shalom.
Keywords: mendicant friar, Francis of Assisi, Franciscan, Dominican, Pope Innocent III, Fourth Lateran Council, Hapsburg dynasty, Rudolph of Hapsburg, bourgeoisie, great city, metropolis, polis, Avignon, Babylonian Captivity of the Papacy, the great schism, churchianity, two thousand years of leaven, history of Christianity, church history, Hebrew history, kp, kingdom preppers
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