The Knights Templar, a military monastic order originally set up to escort pilgrims to the Holy Land, were arrested in dawn raids today in 1307 by King Philip IV of France. Unholy (and untrue) rumours had been relayed to Philip that Templar initiates were required to deny Christ and spit on a crucifix three times, engage in homosexual acts and worship idols. The Templars were handed over to the Inquisition, who imprisoned and tortured them. Most of them confessed their ‘crimes’ (which they later recanted), and many were burned at the stake. Five years later, in 1312, the Order of Knights Templar was suppressed by Pope Clement V.
Thirty-three men trapped in the Copiapó mining accident in Chile were brought to the surface today in 2010. They had endured 69 days entombed in tunnels 700 metres (2,300 feet) below the surface, and were finally rescued one by one in a rocket-like capsule lowered and raised in a narrow shaft. Their Catholic faith emerged early in the rescue, when they asked for Bibles, crucifixes, rosaries and statuettes of saints to be sent down to them, and they made a small chapel in the mine. On reaching the surface, Luis Urzúa, the foreman of the trapped miners, said, ‘It’s been a long shift.’
John ‘Orator’ Henley, burlesque preacher of 18th century London, died today in 1756. Scorning the insipid faith and flaccid preaching of the clergy of his day, whom he called ‘Devil’s chaplains’, Henley set up an Oratory in an old theatre in Clare Market, with an entry price of one shilling. There his unorthodox services, plus his witty preaching and lectures, quickly proved to be a hit with Londoners. He was caricatured by Hogarth, attacked by the Church, and mocked by the poet Alexander Pope, who dubbed him the Zany of the Age.
‘To burlesque Error, Vice and Folly is part of my Religious Persuasion, as a Teacher, in my Place of Worship; it is doing Honour to Religion. The Prophet Elijah ridicul’d or Burlesqu’d Baal’s Priests; and I think myself bound in Conscience to use what Wit God has given me, as a Teacher, to gain some that Way, as well as Argument and Learning, to be all things to all Men.’ John Henley, Advertisement for The Oratory, 1729
Today in 1988 wasn’t a particularly good day for fans of the Shroud of Turin, who believe the sacred sheet to be the literal burial cloth of Christ. Three British scientists, who had helped coordinate carbon dating tests by three separate laboratories on snippets of the Shroud, held a press conference at the British Museum to announce their results. Their verdict was that the Shroud could not be dated any earlier than 1260, which placed it bang in the middle of the golden age of relic forgery production.
It is Edwardtide in England, marking the date in 1269 when St Edward the Confessor’s body was moved to its current resting place in a chapel at the east end of Westminster Abbey. The move concluded an extensive phase of building, and so the Abbey was consecrated at the same time. Westminster Abbey marks Edwardtide with a week that gamely tries to make something spiritual of Edward, even though he wasn’t very saintly when he was alive.
The Miracle of the Sun took place (allegedly) above the city of Fátima in Portugal, today in 1917. The date had been predicted by three shepherd children who said they had encountered the Virgin Mary in a field outside Fátima every month for the previous six months. On 13 October, vast crowds gathered in the same field and reportedly witnessed the sun rotating, dancing, zig-zagging and changing colour, in confirmation of the children’s claims. In 2017, Pope Francis declared two of the children, Francisco and Jacinta, who died in the 1918 influenza epidemic, to be saints.
Image: Herman Pijpers