Saturday, August 1, 2026

Tudor biblical partners

 


 



by

Damien F. Mackey

 

“As early as 1530 Saint John Fisher began to preach that he was willing to die like Saint John the Baptist in defense of the sacrament of matrimony. You’ll remember that John the Baptist received martyrdom for protesting King Herod Antipas’ adulterous marriage to Herodias.

 

Henry VIII was the new Herod

Ann Boleyn was the new Herodias

John Fisher was the new John the Baptist”.

 Dr. Taylor Marshall

  

Introduction

 

Why is it that the Tudors so frequently call to mind for scripturally-minded scholars, and for historical enthusiasts, well-known biblical characters?

 

This is especially the case with King Henry VIII, as partnered with Anne Boleyn.

The pair have been considered in terms of:

 

Henry VIII as Ahab, Anne Boleyn as Jezebel

 

(4) Henry VIII as Ahab, Anne Boleyn as Jezebel

 

More fruitful, though – and very much at the forefront of this present article – will be the scriptural pairing of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn with, respectively, Herod Antipas and his paramour, Herodias.

 

Less common is the comparison of Henry VIII with King Hezekiah of Judah.

 

Hezekiah was a great reforming king, a fact which no doubt calls to mind for some Henry’s vital rôle in the English Reformation.

 

There is even an uncanny ‘preview’, roughly 350 years earlier, of the illicit situation involving Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, when King John divorces his spouse in order to take as wife a young woman whose name rhymes almost perfectly with Anne Boleyn, Isabella of Angoulême. As I wrote in my article:

 

Anne Boleyn almost rhymes with Angoulême

 

(5) Anne Boleyn almost rhymes with Angoulême

 

quoting Rebecca Starr Brown:

 

“Henry VIII was not the first monarch to divorce their spouse from the throne.

That auspicious honor goes to none other than King John, who, upon ascending

the throne in 1199, divorced his wife, Isabel of Gloucester, and married the young Isabella of Angouleme. There are a few reasons why this divorce is of less fame, though it was its own 13th century scandal at the time. For one, this would be

John’s only divorce and he stopped at two wives. …. Which brings us to

Isabella of Angouleme, who had one notable characteristic in common with

Anne Boleyn – they were both wildly detested by the public”.

 

Both Angoulême and Anne Boleyn were known as “Jezebel”:

 

Isabella of Angoulême – ‘more Jezebel than Isabel’

 

(5) Isabella of Angoulême - 'more Jezebel than Isabel'

 

New Testament comparisons

 

Jesus, who had warned his disciples regarding King Herod Antipas (Mark 8:15): “‘Be careful …. Watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and that of Herod’,” would also say of King Herod (Luke 13:32): ‘Go tell that fox that I will keep on casting out demons and healing people today and tomorrow; and the third day I will accomplish my purpose’.

 

‘… that fox …’!

 

There was no lack of foxes in the days of King Henry VIII.

 

There was:

Edward Foxe - Wikipedia

Edward Foxe (c. 1496 – 8 May 1538) was an English churchman, Bishop of Hereford. He played a major role in Henry VIII's divorce from Catherine of Aragon, and he assisted in drafting the Ten Articles of 1536”.

 

There was:

Richard Fox, called by King Henry (just like Herod Antipas), “a fox indeed”:

Richard Fox, Bishop of Winchester (c.1448-1528) [Richard Foxe]

“The accession of Henry VIII made no immediate difference to Fox's position. If anything, the substitution of the careless pleasure-loving youth for Henry VII increased the power of his ministry, the personnel of which remained unaltered. The Venetian ambassador calls Fox "alter rex" and the Spanish ambassador Carroz says that Henry VIII trusted him more than any other adviser, although he also reports Henry's warning that the bishop of Winchester was, as his name implied, "a fox indeed".” 

 

The striking parallels between King Herod, Herodias, and John the Baptist, on the one hand, and Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, and John Fisher, on the other, are well known, and have often been commented upon.

 

I touched on these in e.g. my article:

 

John Fisher and John Baptist parallels

 

(7) John Fisher and John Baptist parallels

 

Here is a sample of that:

 

I have already shown parallels between John the Baptist and Bishop John Fisher, in:

Chewing over the House of Tudor

 

(4) Chewing over the House of Tudor

 

which article I opened with the exclamation: “Talk about parallel lives!”

 

And I have just found something similar here from Dr. Taylor Marshall, Dean of Fisher More College in Fort Worth, Texas:

The Parallel between St John Fisher and St John the Baptist - Taylor Marshall

 

Saint John Fisher was born in Beverley, Yorkshire, England in 1469, the eldest son of Robert Fisher, a modestly prosperous merchant of Beverley, and Agnes Fisher. He was named after Saint John the Baptist.

He was the only bishop in England who faithfully defended the Pope against the adulterous tyranny of King Henry VIII. All the other English bishops apostatized. John Fisher, even more valiantly than Thomas More, defended the valid marriage of Henry to Catherine of Aragon and vehemently opposed Henry VIII’s assumption of the title “Supreme Head” of the English Church.

As early as 1530 Saint John Fisher began to preach that he was willing to die like Saint John the Baptist in defense of the sacrament of matrimony. You’ll remember that John the Baptist received martyrdom for protesting King Herod Antipas’ adulterous marriage to Herodias.

Henry VIII was the new Herod

Ann Boleyn was the new Herodias

John Fisher was the new John the Baptist

When John Fisher was convicted of “treason” he was, of course, sentenced to death. Henry, as Head of the Church” had already defrocked John Fisher and deposed him of his bishopric. Pope Paul III responded by naming John Fisher as a cardinal of the Catholic church.

This infuriated Henry VIII who said that the Bishop of Rome did not need to send the cardinal’s hat to Fisher – Henry would instead send the Fisher’s decapitated head to Rome!

Accounts say that Fisher was sentenced to die on June 23 or 24. However, June 23 is the vigil of St John the Baptist and the 24th is the feast of Saint John the Baptist. Englishmen began to snicker at the irony. John Fisher truly was a new Saint John the Baptist and would even share a feast day with him.

Henry VIII panicked and had the sentence moved up to June 22 so that the parallel would not be obvious. This is the day of Fisher’s glorious death for the sake of Christ.

Saint John Fisher is a saint of our time. He is the only cardinal who was also a martyr. Moreover, he died defending the liberty of the Pope and the sanctity of Holy Matrimony. What better saint for our time!

Saint John Fisher, pray for us.

 

What makes all of this even more weird are the historical problems associated with the House of Tudor (see above article) and with the regal members of this House. ….

 

Saint Thomas More

 

Once again, also, there is a ‘preview’, referring to what I wrote above: “There is even an uncanny ‘preview’, roughly 350 years earlier, of the illicit situation involving Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn …”. This time, though, I am talking about the parallels between Thomas Becket and Thomas More, also roughly 350 years apart:

 

Parallel Lives - Thomas Becket and Thomas More

 

(7) Parallel Lives - Thomas Becket and Thomas More

 

Suffice here to recall from this article what I quoted Kristina Glicksman writing about:

Telling them apart: Thomas Becket and Thomas More | Salt + Light Media (slmedia.org)

 

Telling them apart: Thomas Becket and Thomas More

Kristina Glicksman

Sunday, December 29, 2019

 

In our Catholic Christian tradition we’ve been blessed with many role models for holiness in our saints. But sometimes it can be difficult to keep them all straight.

 

In this series, “Telling them apart,” I am presenting some side-by-side comparisons in order to help us keep track of commonly confused saints.

Why is it that the memories of Mass which seem to stick most in our minds are not powerful spiritual insights or moving homilies or beautiful liturgical moments but the ones that are most human – the time your brother made you laugh out loud or the altar server dropped the book or the lady fainted during the Easter Vigil?

 

One of my most enduring memories is of a homily preached at a weekday morning Mass on December 29th one year when I was home visiting my parents for Christmas. The celebrant chose to educate us about the saint whose feast we were commemorating that day: St. Thomas Becket.

 

As he began the story, which was fairly familiar to me, I was surprised to hear details which I knew belonged to the life of St. Thomas More. Apparently, my mother recognized them as well because she shook her head through the entire homily, but unless he was telepathic, I’m not sure what the poor priest was supposed to do with that.

 

It’s not just that he mistook one Thomas for the other, but he moved so fluidly between the 12th century and the 16th, the archbishop and the politician, that he created a kind of super saint with all the most memorable details from the lives of each.

And as painful (in an empathetic way) as it was at the time and amusing in hindsight, it is really not at all surprising.

 

They are two Thomases who were Chancellors of England and close friends of kings named Henry who had enormous egos and vile tempers. Both were embroiled in controversies which straddled the Church/state divide and put them in opposition to their former friends who ordered their deaths. Who wouldn’t get confused? ….

 

Kristina Glicksman’s awareness that, when hearing about Thomas Becket in that homily she was picking up”, as she recalls, “details which I knew belonged to the life of St. Thomas More”, is the very same sensation that I had experienced when reading through Graham Hancock’s book, War God. Night of Sorrows, supposedly all about Hernán Cortés, but reading like Alexander the Great:

 

Alexander the Great and Hernán Cortés

 

(DOC) Alexander the Great and Hernán Cortés | Damien Mackey - Academia.edu

 

Following on from all of this, I have written of several striking likenesses that I have noticed between Thomas More and the Apostle, James the Greater:

 

Apostle James Maior and Sir Thomas More

 

(7) Apostle James Maior and Sir Thomas More

 

Just what is going on here?

 

Queen Ellizabeth I

 

Although she does assume the rôle of Jesus when washing feet, Elizabeth has been so often likened to earlier, great biblical figures that I have written this about her:

 

Queen Elizabeth I like an Old Testament character

 

(7) Queen Elizabeth I like an Old Testament character

 

The litany of Old Testament persons who emerge below are only some of those to whom Elizabeth has been likened, with Judith being at the forefront of all of these:  https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/pdf/10.1111/rest.12258

Elizabeth I as Judith: reassessing the apocryphal

widow’s appearance in Elizabethan royal

iconography

 

…. Historians and literary scholars have long noted and analysed the appearance of biblical analogies as part of Tudor and Stuart royal iconography. Using the example of a biblical figure, monarchs demonstrated the divine precedent for their decisions, and subjects in turn could counsel their monarch to emulate the actions of a divinely favoured biblical figure.

 

Queen Elizabeth I of England was the subject of the greatest number of biblical analogies drawn in the early modern period: analogies were drawn both by apologists and by Elizabeth herself throughout the entire span of the queen’s reign, and for almost a century after her death.

….

Elizabeth’s comparisons with Deborah the Judge, Queen Esther, Daniel the Prophet, King Solomon, and King David have all received varying levels of attention in the existing scholarship: but the analogy to Judith, the chaste widow of the Apocrypha, has generally escaped detailed analysis. …. Judith was invoked in various ways throughout Elizabeth’s reign, and the diverse analogies reflect the changing religio-political climate of the time.

 

This article offers a re-examination of the comparisons drawn between Elizabeth and Judith during the queen’s life. In doing so, I argue that contrary to claims in some of the existing scholarship, Judith was routinely and consistently offered to Elizabeth as biblical precedent for dealing with Roman Catholics – with violence, not just diplomatic rhetoric – and for the providential sanctioning of female rule; and that Elizabeth, in drawing the parallel to Judith herself, inserted her own voice into these debates. ….

 

Judith’s story can be found in the eponymous book of the Apocrypha. A prophecy was brought, foretelling that Bethulia, Judith’s city, would be lost to the invading Assyrians because of the Jews’ disobedience. Judith attempted to prevent this happening, and prayed to God that he would give her a ‘sworde to take vengeance of the [invading] strangers’. …. She and her handmaiden allowed themselves to be captured by the Assyrians, claiming that they had deserted. The Assyrians took her to Holofernes, the General of the Army.

 

Judith lied to Holofernes that God had forsaken the Jews because they ate his offerings before the requisite time had past, and that he would not defend them until the sacrifices were re-offered, which would take many days to organize. Holofernes was pleased with this news, and allowed Judith to stay in the camp. On the fourth night at the camp, after a banquet, Holofernes passed out, drunk. His servants left the tent, and Judith remained inside, alone. She picked up Holofernes’ sword, grasped his hair, prayed, ‘Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel, this day,’ and then ‘shee smote twise upon his necke with all her might, and she took away his head from him.’ …. She stowed the head in her handmaiden’s bag, and the two left the camp. She returned to Bethulia, and showed the head, saying, ‘Beholde the head of Holofernes the chiefe captaine of the army of Assur . . . the Lord hath smitten him by the hand of a woman.’ …. Without their general, the Assyrian army fell into disarray, and the attack was abandoned.

 

….

 

While I do not argue that Elizabeth was the first English monarch to be paralleled with Judith … the examples assembled here demonstrate that Elizabeth was both the first monarch to be compared to Judith in a sustained and systematic way for religio-political purposes, and also the first monarch to affirm the analogy in her own words. The importance of these two facts is often sidelined in the scholarship that does discuss the Judith analogy. Helen Hackett’s study of Elizabeth and the cult of the Virgin Mary is excellent, but dismisses Judith’s longevity by claiming, ‘biblical heroines like Deborah and Judith dominated early Elizabethan royal iconography.’ ….

 

 

 

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