William Tyndale, A Man To Be Admired

William Tyndale was a native of Gloucester and began his studies at Oxford in 1510, later moving onto Cambridge. By 1523 his passion had been ignited; in that year he sought permission and funds from the bishop of London to translate the New Testament. The bishop denied his request, and further investigations convinced Tyndale that the project would not be welcomed anywhere in England.

To find a friendly environment, he traveled to the free cities of Europe – Hamburg, Wittenberg, Cologne, and finally to the Lutheran city of Worms. There, in 1525, his New Testament emerged: the first translation from Greek into the English language. It was quickly smuggled into England, where it received a less-than-enthusiastic response from the authorities. King Henry VIII, Cardinal Wolsey, and Sir Thomas More, among others, were furious. It was, said More, “not worthy to be called Christ's testament, but either Tyndale's own testament of the testament of his master Antichrist.”

Thomas More did everything he could to stop Tyndale and the translation of the Bible into English. He was a ruthless man when it came to disagreement in the Catholic Church.  But he was consistent.  This poor guy ended up getting beheaded by order of King Henry VIII because he would not support Henry's break with the Pope and the Church.

Authorities bought up copies of the translation (which, ironically, only financed Tyndale's further work) and hatched plans to silence Tyndale.

Meanwhile Tyndale had moved to Antwerp, a city which he was relatively free from English agents and those of the Holy Roman (and Catholic) Empire. For nine years he managed, with the help of friends, to hide from authorities, review his New Testament, and begin translating the Old.

His translations, it would turn out, became decisive in the history of the English Bible , and of the English language. Nearly a century later, when translators of the Authorized, or King James Version, debated how to translate the original languages, eight of ten times, they agreed that Tyndale had it best to begin with.

During these years, Tyndale also gave himself over to good works because as he said, “My part be not in Christ if mine heart be not to follow and live according as I teach.” On Mondays he visited other religious refugees from England. On Saturdays he walked Antwerp's streets, seeking to help the poor. On Sundays he dined in merchants homes, reading Scripture before and after dinner. The rest of the week he devoted to writing tracts and books and translating the Bible.

Conspiracy to Capture!

We do not know who planned and financed the plot that ended his life (whether England or continental authorities), but we do know it was carried out by Henry Phillips, a man who had been accused of robbing his father and of gambling himself into poverty. Phillips became Tyndale's guest at meals and soon was one of the few privileged to look at Tyndale's books and papers.

In May 1535, Phillips lured Tyndale away from the safety of his quarters and into the arms of soldiers. Tyndale was immediately taken to the Castle of Vilvorde, the great state prison of the Low Countries, and accused of heresy.

Trials for heresy in the Netherlands were in the hands of special commissions of the Holy Roman Empire. It took months for the law to take its course. During this time, Tyndale had many hours to reflect on his own teachings, such as this passage from one of his tracts:

“Let it not make thee despair, neither yet discourage thee, O reader, that it is forbidden thee in pain of life and goods, or that it is made breaking of the king's peace, or treason unto his highness, to read the Word of thy soul's health-for if God be on our side, what matter maketh it who be against us, be they bishops, cardinals, popes.”

Finally, in early August 1536, Tyndale was condemned as a heretic, degraded from the priesthood, and delivered to the secular authorities for punishment.

On Friday, October 6, after local officials took their seats, Tyndale was brought to the cross in the middle of the town square and given a chance to recant. That refused, he was given a moment to pray. English historian John Foxe said he cried out, “Lord, open the King of England's eyes!”

Then he was bound to the beam, and both an iron chain and a rope were put around his neck. Gunpowder was added to the brush and logs. At the signal of a local official, the executioner, standing behind Tyndale, quickly tightened the noose, strangling him. Then an official took up a lighted torch and handed it to the executioner, who set the wood ablaze.

One brief report of that distant scene has come down to us. It is found in a letter from an English agent to Lord Cromwell two months later.

“They speak much,” he wrote, “of the patient sufferance of Master Tyndale at the time of his execution.”

**This was originally printed as an article for Christianity Today, with slight revisions to simplify for kids.

 

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ch/131christians/scholarsandscientists/tyndale.html