of the Church of England when he broke ranks with the Roman Pontiff. They were noblemen, members of Parliament, and bishops; you must have known most of them quite well. As I gazed upon that fateful piece of paper and the cracked seals, my mind turned to you and John Fisher, the only English bishop who refused to sign the oath and who, like yourself, laid down his life as a consequence.
Even at this most terrible occasion, you did not abandon your sense of humor. While providing for yourself an examination of conscience within your commentary on Jesus’ agony, you gently chide your readers not only for sluggishness and sleepiness in prayer, but also for a lackadaisical approach to the sovereign Lord of the universe. I distinctly recall reading your list of mindless distractions which we indulge during prayer. When I scanned the lines containing your rant against picking one’s nose while praying, I found my own finger scouring the inner sanctum of a nostril, more attuned to the discovery of the next booger than the meditation you were hoping I would focus on! I chuckled heartily, and I think of you now whenever the gold-digging urge threatens to overpower me in church.
The refrain of your meditations, so calmly and constantly asserted, is the need for vigilance—not necessarily against manifest evil, but rather the “sadness, fear, and weariness” which so easily creep into good hearts and swerve them from their holy purposes.20 The metaphor of sleep, so personified in the drowsy apostles near Jesus as he sweats blood and offers himself to the Father, is both a reproach and a challenge to us who strive to fight as you did: nobly, calmly, with a steely resolve rooted in prayer. I think of your meditations, Saint Thomas, as a scriptural pep talk, a twofold encouragement coming from both Jesus and yourself, designed to sustain you then, and us now, when yielding or quitting seems much more desirable than perseverance.
You were well aware that “other tyrants and tormentors”21 would rise and dominate human affairs throughout the centuries. You were equally aware that the internal caesars of vice and sin are much more prevalent and even destructive of souls than external rulers. And yet regardless of the ruler, there can be no despair when the Lord of hope is invoked, and the light of fervent prayer in darkness surely generates confidence amidst great tribulation.
A quote embedded in my mind is the final petition of the entire book, summarizing everything in a humble sentence: “The things, good Lord, that I pray for, give me the grace to labor for. Amen.”22 Earlier in the meditation, you had noted, “We are reluctant to pray for anything (however useful) that we are reluctant to receive.”23 Your final request of the Lord, perhaps only days or weeks before you met the executioner’s sword, is a reminder to us that boldness in prayer is itself a sign of trust in the loving Lord who bestows abundantly.
You knew, of course, how the story would end: the garden of Gethsemane prepares Jesus for Calvary, but that experience makes possible the glory of Easter Sunday. You foresaw the dissection of Christendom already underway in Germany and now in your beloved England, not to mention the forfeiture of your own head as an enemy of the newly minted head of the English Church. Yet there you were on the chopping block, at once forgiving your executioner and requesting that he not cut your beard, “For that,” you noted, “has not committed treason!”24 What a wonderfully strange quirk of final perseverance!
You were fond of saying to friends, “Pray for me as I will for you, that we may merrily meet in Heaven,”25 especially as your entrance into Paradise drew near. I often conclude letters with that very same line, though I certainly hope to meet the addressee again here on earth before that final encounter. Since I never had the honor of dining with you at Chelsea, I will eagerly await a far more unforgettable banquet, full of mirth and puns and excessive displays of wit, assured that your prayers will help me arrive at the table without incident! And so I finish this missive with that same request: pray for me, good More, that we may merrily meet in heaven.
12. Saint Thomas More (1477–1535) was an English lawyer, writer, husband, father, Renaissance humanist, and theologian. He rose to the rank of Lord Chancellor under King Henry VIII. After refusing to swear the Oath of Supremacy and therefore acknowledge Henry as Supreme Head of the Church of England, More was executed. The Catholic Church venerates him as a martyr. Among his best known writings are Utopia and The Sadness of Christ.
13. More, A Dialogue Concerning Heresies, 132.
14. Wegemer, A Portrait of Courage, 11.
15. See Wegemer and Smith, A Thomas More Source Book, 6.
16. Pope Benedict XVI, “Meeting with the Representatives of British Society including the Diplomatic Corps, Politicians, Academics, and Business Leaders,” para. 6.
17. Chesterton, “A Turning Point in History,” In The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, 63–64.
18. Ibid., 64.
19. Ratzinger, “Homily for Mass,” para. 11.
20. More, Sadness of Christ, 17.
21. Ibid., 100.
22. Ibid., 155.
23. Ibid., 35.
24. Froude, A History of England, 276–77.
25. Rogers, St. Thomas More, 258.
Taylor Swift26
Dear Taylor,
The monastery I call home has several young monks who are big fans of yours. Some won’t admit to liking your music, but others heap unabashed praise on your albums, and most of us, if we were playing truth-or-dare, would confess to having celibate monk-crushes on you. After reading such a statement, you’re probably thinking that you should cancel your Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts, convinced that you cannot possibly achieve greater iconic status in your superstar social life.
My confreres and I lead a pretty different life from what you would consider normal. Our monastic life requires us to live in a community (think of a college dormitory, but with much more silence and an age range of twenty to ninety), wake up early, and pray at various points throughout the day. Unlike many monks, however, we also have a connection to the outside world through our mission of Catholic education. Teaching middle school, high school, and college students keeps us somewhat in tune with the “real world.” It also gives us an excuse to stay in touch with cultural starlets like yourself, and to be aware of what our students are listening to and watching. If nothing else, it allows us to at least pretend
