Why St. John Fisher lost his head—and why it still matters

When the Catholic Church commemorates the martyrdoms of Saints John Fisher and Thomas More every June 22nd, people tend to think that their deaths were just collateral damage in King Henry VIII’s spat with the pope about the legitimacy of his attempts to marry six different women.

It is certainly true that Henry’s pride, libido, and desire for a male heir led many men and women to lose their lives, including two of those wives. But John Fisher’s death was not only because of his faithfulness to Church teaching about the indissolubility of marriage. His execution for treason was also because of the king’s dangerous attitude toward free speech and religious liberty. And that issue is just as important today as it was in the sixteenth century.

John Fisher was born in the town of Beverly in northern England in the year 1469 and was the eldest of four children. His father was a successful merchant, but he died when John was only eight years old. John’s mother remarried and had four more children. Since his family had financial means and since John had demonstrated intellectual ability, he was sent to the University of Cambridge to complete his education at about the age of twelve.

While Cambridge was founded in 1209 and is now the third-oldest university in continuous operation in the world, it was a declining institution at the time. Plagues had caused the deaths of many of its students and professors, and the university lacked a wealthy patron. That changed when John himself became chancellor, and King Henry VII provided financial support years later.

John wasn’t a precocious student, but he was a hard worker and highly intelligent. He dutifully completed various degrees at Cambridge. At the age of twenty-two, he became a Fellow and received a papal dispensation to receive the orders of priesthood, despite being under the canonical age. The fact that he was elected senior proctor at the age of twenty-five and earned a doctorate six years later demonstrates that the university regents had a high estimate of the young man’s abilities. He also impressed Lady Margaret Beaufort, the influential mother of King Henry VII, who supported John as he became chancellor of the university.

And John had grand plans for Cambridge. As he developed a personal reputation as a respected scholar, that reputation enabled him to attract leading European scholars to teach at his university. He expanded classes to include Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. His decades of leadership and strong administrative abilities gradually increased the prestige of the University of Cambridge.

But John was not a careerist; he was a priest. For example, he emphasized excellence in preaching at the university. He was also careful to use down-to-earth analogies in his own sermons so that ordinary people could easily understand him. When he was named bishop of Rochester—the poorest diocese in England at the time—some saw it as a political steppingstone in his career. But John was content to stay with a poor “bride” and apparently never sought a more lucrative or powerful bishopric.

As a man, John had a mild temperament and was modest and cautious. As a priest, he lived a strict ascetic life. As a scholar, he developed many professional relationships and friendships with other scholars. When Martin Luther’s positions began to spread throughout Europe, everyone wanted to know what Fisher thought, so he wrote detailed public responses to Luther’s arguments. People have often conjectured that King Henry VIII’s 1521 rebuttal of Luther’s positions, Defense of the Seven Sacraments, may have been written in part by Fisher or by Thomas More.

John knew Thomas More, of course, and their writing styles are often compared to one another. More was wittier and more playful in his writing, while Fisher was a methodical, careful thinker.

Both men believed they had a good relationship with their monarch. Until one day when they didn’t.

Thomas More, however, had an accurate understanding of the selfish, ruthless character of King Henry VIII. On one occasion, he warned his son-in-law, “[I]f my head could win [King Henry] a castle in France it should not fail to go. … Rather than he will either miss or want any part of his will or appetite, he will put the loss of one half of his realm in danger.”¹

Around the year 1526, King Henry became infatuated with Anne Boleyn and her promise that she would provide him with a son, and he decided to abandon his wife of seventeen years, Catherine of Aragon. He ordered Cardinal Thomas Woolsey to go to Rome and seek an annulment of his marriage to Catherine. At the same time, Henry told Woolsey to approach Bishop Fisher privately.

Woolsey lied to Fisher that King Henry was deeply troubled about the legitimacy of his marriage to Catherine. Catherine had been briefly married to Henry’s older brother, but the brother had died soon after the marriage. (Catherine always claimed that the marriage was never consummated.) Woolsey told Fisher of the king’s (pretended) concern that his marriage to Catherine was a violation of Church law. Fisher obediently studied the relevant Church teaching and wrote a consoling letter to the king to inform him that he had nothing to worry about. Henry’s marriage to Catherine was legitimate in the eyes of the Church. But that was not the answer that King Henry wanted to hear.

There were, however, other ways for King Henry to get what he wanted, particularly since he had no scruples about imprisoning or beheading anyone who got in his way.

His partner in adultery and murder, Anne Boleyn, was no less dangerous. On one occasion, everyone in Bishop Fisher’s household became mysteriously ill. Two people died. We will never know whether Boleyn paid someone to poison Fisher (she had other enemies who also experienced symptoms of poisoning) or whether the cook falsely confessed to poisoning the food under pain of torture. Either way, the attempt on Fisher’s life failed. The penitential bishop commonly ate only porridge, not the fancy food he offered to his guests, and was not harmed.

In 1534, under pressure from the king, Parliament passed several acts related to this issue. Every subject was ordered to accept these new Acts of Parliament, and failure to do so was considered treason. By swearing the oath of succession, each citizen agreed that the marriage between Henry and Catherine was invalid (even though the pope had said the opposite), while Henry’s marriage to Anne was valid. Only one bishop refused to take that oath: John Fisher of Rochester.

At this point, Fisher had become seriously ill. Throughout his trial and imprisonment, the ailing bishop sought in vain to explain that he remained loyal to his king but could not change God’s law. After more than a year in prison, Fisher was brought before a large crowd and executed by beheading. Catholics all over Europe were horrified to learn of the martyrdom of a man who had only recently been named a cardinal by the pope for his faithfulness.

The martyrdoms of Fisher, More, and others, along with the many political repercussions for England and the English Church ever since, can be blamed at least partially on weak bishops and civil leaders who were too afraid or too comfortable to stand up to their king on an issue of faith and morals. But, in the end, the tool that was used to silence opposition to the king was the law.

The 1534 Acts of Parliament went far beyond the traditional understanding of treason. Not only overt acts—such as aiding England’s enemies—but even speaking “words that could be interpreted as tending to the peril of the king”² were considered treasonous acts punishable by death. While free speech and religious freedom may be modern concepts, English citizens in the sixteenth century were not executed for similar reasons under Henry VIII’s predecessor or even during the early years of Henry VIII’s reign. It was only when a despotic king wanted his entire kingdom to affirm his own immoral acts that speaking words in support of Catholic teaching became so deadly.

John Fisher was a holy man, an educated scholar, and a courageous bishop who died a martyr because of his faith in Christ and His Church. His life should be a lesson about the power of Christian faith and virtue in facing down injustice, but his death should also be a reminder of the need for us to be constantly vigilant in demanding religious freedom for all people of faith.

May Saint John Fisher’s witness give us peace and courage when defending Church teaching about marriage and when demanding the right to express our beliefs in the public square.

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