Now six hundred, threescore and six years were almost up, a number allotted to Antichrist, whose name is the Beast. Was not Mahomet conceived that long ago? Surely an hour had turned. From northern Thule to southernmost Sicily, from east to west, Europe rejoiced at a marvelous awakening, the resurrection of hope, of faith, of urgent desire. Indeed, His Holiness wrote to Sultan al-Adil about wrath to come.
Six days before Whitsuntide, that high feast which men so richly keep, here were signs and portents. Bishop Oliverius of Paderborn wrote to the count of Naumr that while in the diocese of Münster, accompanied by abbots of the Cluniac and Cistercian orders, thousands gathered to hear him speak. All seated themselves in a quiet meadow outside Bedum. No leaves rustled. Anon, from a luminous white cloud in the north a cross emerged, another manifesting in the south. Above and between these two appeared a majestic cross upon which a human figure was suspended, that of a naked man, his head leaning on his shoulder. Nails could be seen penetrating his hands and feet just as they are skillfully pictured in church. A girl of eleven pointed this out to her mother and grandmother and to other people nearby. They became lost in adoration. More than one hundred people witnessed this miracle.
Further, in a different part of the country a cross like a rainbow was noted by the abbot of Heisterbach. And above the Frisian port of Dokkum where Blessed Bonifacius achieved martyrdom a cross traveled through the sky as if drawn by a cord, as if to summon and direct pilgrims.
Bishop James of Acre, in those days visiting Gaul, preached a new sermon. He imagined Christ as a lord robbed of patrimony who calls upon his vassals. The Lord would know if His vassals were faithful. For by the loss of patrimony is He much afflicted, said Bishop James. We read in the book of Kings how the priest Eli, hearing that the Ark of the Lord was taken, fell off his stool and died from excessive grief. Who is not moved that the Holy Land is trodden underfoot? Enemies of Christ stretch forth sacrilegious hands toward her most intimate parts, oppressing the city of our salvation. She has been made the habitat of dragons, the pasture of ostriches. Which among you is not consumed by zeal for the house of the Lord? Where is the anxiety of Mattathias? Where is the dagger of Phinehas? Where is the sharp blade of Ehud? Although it is true that none is bound to our Lord by feudal law, He offers inestimable remuneration. He offers remission of sin and sheaves of joy. He offers eternal life. Therefore should we hurry to Him.
In cities and villages everywhere people awakened from a long and thoughtless slumber. Forty thousand in England began to equip themselves for the journey. The cleric Humbert asserts that he alone set down that many on his rolls. Nor did there come an end to portents. On the eve of the nativity of John the Baptist a glowing crucifix was observed from which hung the body of Jesus Christ spattered with blood and His side pierced by a lance. A trader hauling fish to Uxbridge saw this. He stood lost in ecstasy, awed by the immanent brightness. Next day at Uxbridge he related this miracle. Many believed. Others laughed until persuaded to change their opinion because the Lord materialized elsewhere to convert the incredulous through His glory. Bishops Peter of Winchester and William of Exeter made ready to join the expedition. They, like all the rest, praised God for having condescended to touch their lives. Emperor Frederick of Hohenstaufen felt moved to take the vow. Countless thousands in Germany followed his example.
Bishop James considered that in order to welcome and comfort this multitude when it reached the Holy Land he should return to the diocese of Acre. Thus he set out for Genoa on a mule, but was assaulted by the devil. There is extant a letter he wrote from Genoa in October of the year 1216.
No sooner did I come to Lombardy than Satan cast my weapons into the stream. That is to say, my books, with which I meant to fight him. Because of melting snow the stream was greatly swollen. Bridges and rocks had been carried off. One of my trunks filled with books was swept away, but a second trunk that contained a finger of my mother, Marie d’Oignies, buoyed the mule and saved it from drowning. The first trunk I found caught in the branches of a tree. Although my books were somewhat spoilt, one might yet make out the words.
Is it not clear how Satan rouses volatile passions against us? A nun in the Abbaye-aux-Dames at Caen devoted herself not to the Lord but to venery, nor would she be persuaded to confess. No matter that she was admonished on her deathbed, she chose to expire obstinate, admitting nothing that would do her any good. Not long afterward a sister slept in the cell where this nun died and dreamt of a fire on the hearth and the wicked nun burning, all the while beaten with hammers by two black spirits on either side. Then at the stroke of a hammer a spark darted into the eye of the dreaming sister, which caused her to wake up. Now she understood the vision, and there was a stinging pain in her eye to verify it.
We are told of a monk who requested tutelage in the black arts from Satan. That I could not do, replied this ancient enemy of mankind, except you deny your faith and make a sacrifice. Then the foolish monk asked what sacrifice he should make. That which is delectable, said the adversary. You shall make a libation of your seed for me to
