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A tid-bit of manna
One day the Anabaptists Jan Mattijszoon and Jan Bockelszoon, both strikingly handsome men, dramatically appeared in the market square of the German town of Münster in 1530. Both wearing flowing robes these impressive conspirators appeared to the simple folk to be nothing less then prophets ordained by the highest authority. Mattijszoon even carried 2 stone tablets, and told the spell bound citizens "that the lord has ordained me to impart his will to you." Then they preached the piety of poverty, that the church was corrupt, that a rich man had little chance of seeing the golden gates of heaven, etc. Mattijszoon told them, Bockelszoon, would " instruct you in the pure and holy service of God as is proper to a chosen people." In this way, it did not take long until they gained local support, particularly from the women folk.
In the presence of these handsome men, women pulled out their hair. They ran around almost naked, throwing themselves on the ground before their feet, or with arms extended in the shape of a cross. Then they would get up again, throwing their hands above their heads, kneeling down, weeping, grinding their teeth, foaming at the mouth, beating their breasts, laughing, howling, and mumbling gibberish, etc.
Regardless of having such ridiculous names like Mattijszoon and Bockelszoon, the new prophets of Münster were looked upon like medieval "Rock Gods." They were tall, flamboyant, charming, and oozing with sex appeal. And to put your trust, hopes and fears, your lives, and the government itself, into the hands of "Rock Gods" would not be any less a catastrophe today as it was back then in 1530. For after exactly one month of their arrival, the Anabaptists had managed to take control of Münsters Great Council.
The very next day they exiled the Lutherans and the Catholics: nuns, priests and servants alike. Those willing to be immediately converted were allowed to stay of course. Those left standing outside the city gates were forced on their way without a penny in their pockets, for their belongings and property had already been confiscated and divided up between the prophets.
Well, soon Münsters neighbours caught wind of the take over. Fearing that this bizarre cult might spread beyond her walls to other helpless cities they formed an alliance with the church and other neighbouring municipalities. Result: Münster was surrounded and cut off from her food supply . . .
Over come by his own success -- believing his own lies, and now dangerously overconfident -- Mattijszoon decided to march against his enemies with a hand full of men. To make a long story short Mattijszoon and his small army were slaughtered not ten minutes after their presence had been detected before the city gates . . .
Bockelszoon had come to late to stop the fool. He arrived just as the sargent at the gate was changing his watch. The sargent said that Mattijszoon had not even taken a weapon with him. Yes, just like at his arrival so to did he depart: carrying two stone tablets and proclaiming, in a shrill and pious voice, " I shall rule over Emperors, Kings, and Princes" . . . to bad that his enemies were not an army of hysterical women, perhaps he would have had a chance . . .
Anyway, seizing the moment, Bockelszoon took Mattijszoon's place at once, saying, "God shall raise up unto us another prophet who shall be greater and higher than was even Mattijszoon." Not hard for Bockelszoon to be greater and higher then a man that had just been trampled under by horses and violently hacked to bits and pieces with axes, swords, and spiky clubs of iron, that much was certain . . .
Well, the risen prophet was the great Bockelszoon himself. And he was so great that he began making new laws: rules that permitted polygamy; rules that permitted the death penalty by blasphemy, or the refusal by a women to let a man have his will with her whenever he so pleased, etc. After all Bockelszoon had himself taken 16 wives. His queen being none other than Mattijszoon's beautiful widow, whom he had claimed not one minute after the great prophet had met his horrific fate.
Then, forgetting his pious words against the evils of greed, he set up a grand court, dressed himself and his queen in expensive silks, jewels and gold. His subjects, on the other hand, were ordered to dress plainly. Their best cloths were confiscated, some were forced to live in abject poverty. Worse still, Bockelszoon and his wife wore fancy crowns made of gold and jewels, feeling not the least bit of guilt or hypocrisy.
Finally, his assistant would run through the streets crying: "Jan Bockelszoon of Leyden, the saint and prophet of God , must be king of the whole earth. His authority will extend over Emperors, Kings, and Princes, and all the powers of the world, and none shall rise above him. He will occupy the throne of his father, David, and will carry the sceptre till the lord reclaims it from him, etc . . . Some humble words there, especially for the avenger of the poor, champion of the people, and fighter of the corrupt and tyrannical church, right?
Anyway, getting back to reality. While all of this prophesying and law making and King pretending was going on in Münster, let us not forget that the city was under siege. The enemy was dug in deep, and they were not planning any holidays that year either. The blockade around the city was gradually starving the Münsterites to death.
Of course Bockelszoon promised them miracles: God would turn the cobblestones into bread, the wells will run thick of milk and honey, manna will rain from the sky; we the people of Bockelszoon will live forever in splendour and paradise, etc. Well, except for a shower of pigeon shit which rained on the city one stormy afternoon -- a few hungry fools actually believed it to be manna and, eat it -- none of these miracles ever came to past. Out of desperation the righteous turned to debauchery: drunkenness, thievery, murder, wickedness. And, in the last days of Bockelszoon's reign, the time was made less painful by sharing in joyless orgies; orgies in the home, in the chapels, all over the city . . .
Well, to the relief of the church, and many of Bockelszoon's half dead subjects, the king of kings was eventually captured. It happened one cloudy night as the saint and prophet of God was relieving himself from on top of the city wall. A group of commandos were sent to capture him. They where climbing the embankment and, after getting thoroughly soaked in pee-pee, managed to surprise Bockelszoon as he was shaking off the rest . . .
The King of the whole earth was then taken on a tour from one German town after the other. He was displayed in chains like some sorry beast. Then, for many painful hours, he was tortured to death. Finally his body was mutilated and hung in an iron cage from the church of St. Lambert . . . To be sure, not exactly a death worthy of a saint; and quite embarrassing too for one whom none shall rise above. Although, the latter was not entirely a lie. After all the only ones that could rise above him now were the pigeons, yet they were to busy sharing with Münster a tit-bit of manna.
Copyright ©1999 by Michael Hills ... all rights reserved.