It is probably fair to say that the 500th anniversary of the Reformation – or to be particular, of Martin Luther’s nailing his ‘Ninety-five Theses’ to the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg in 1517 – has not gripped the popular imagination in England as much as once it might.
It has not, for example, produced the sort of representation of iconoclasm seen in the new National Museum of Estonia, where a virtual image of Our Lady of Graces in a glass box shattered into pieces to be replaced by the word “Reformation” if the visitor kicked the plinth. (I know the country only because my godfather, a saintly Yorkshire vicar, wrote a single book, An Anglican in Estonia, SPCK, 1939.) The imaginative display did not please everyone, however, Archbishop Urmas Viilma of the Estonian Evangelical Lutheran Church protesting that “The Virgin Mary for a huge number of believers is not some historical figure or event, gone into oblivion, but a reality today. The ridicule was an insult to the feelings of believers.”
True, the Blessed Virgin Mary (BVM) is for many believers a reality, but so was the iconoclasm of the Reformation, not least in England, although even more destruction took place over a century later during the Civil War when Protestantism reached its anarchic zenith. Perhaps if the hologram of the BVM had shattered when the visitor pressed a button rather than kicked the plinth it would have been less offensive, yet a kick is more accurately symbolic of the brutalism of the destruction1.
When Henry VIII’s men ‘dissolved’ the monasteries, they did not do so gently, nor did the zealots with their whitewash brushes and hammers, obliterating the colour and statuary in country churches, much to the dismay of ‘the common people’ whose piety was more visually inspired than aurally. The vivid interiors of England’s churches before 1517 would surprise many people today – including many a post-Vatican II Catholic – as Eamon Duffy, Emeritus Professor of the History of Christianity at Cambridge, describes brilliantly in The Stripping of the Altars (Yale, 1992).
Catholic and reformed?
And yet England today (and perhaps even Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland), despite increasing secularism, seems quite at home with the imagery that the Reformers swept away. You only need to look at the Royal Mail’s Christmas stamps: yes, there’s the snowman and some naive children’s art, but the religious images on both first and second-class stamps are of the Virgin and Child.
Are we in fact seeing a sort of post-Christian Counter-Reformation, or is it merely a Post Office Counters Reformation? Will 2045 – the 500th anniversary of the Council of Trent, summoned in response to ‘Lutheranism’, and seen as the starting point of the Counter-Reformation – prove a more popular anniversary than this year’s has been?
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