The value of Wycliffe’s work is beyond estimation. Of course there were others who initiated the movement towards reformation before Wycliffe was born. But progress was slow, and Wycliffe was raised up by God to give that movement impetus. His work, in fact, was carried out with such vigour and consistency that he has been called “a Reformer before his time”. When his biography has been imperfectly sketched, one cannot but discern in it the shades of England’s Luther, England’s Calvin and England’s Knox.
The sad truth is, however, that Wycliffe’s biography can be but imperfectly sketched. History is reticent, even about some of the outstanding events in Wycliffe’s life. This reticence is specially marked in relation to the earlier part of his life. The following introductory article, therefore, contains less of personal detail than we would have wished. It is hoped, however, that it will provide something of a background to Wycliffe’s life-work.
“Wy” is an old word for a river, or brook. “Wycliffe” means “cliff by the water”, or river. The name John Wycliffe, then, can be rendered “John of Wycliffe”, meaning that it was from Wycliffe that he came. This place got its name because it was situated by a river that was flanked by limestone cliffs. It appears to have been near Richmond in Yorkshire. Doubtless the area presented much the same aspect in the fourteenth century as it does now—these woods and fields and hills would have provided many a welcome walk for a thoughtful child.
But the atmosphere of Richmond was not always so peaceful as its surroundings might suggest. At times, Wycliffe even witnessed the alarms and excursions of war. So it seems to have been, about the time when John Wycliffe’s close predecessors owned the area. At the risk of alienating patriotic readers we mention that Richard de Wycliffe, in conjunction with three others, raised a contingent of 50 horse and 500 foot to help the king of England in his wars with Scotland.
In the region of Richmond, then, John of Wycliffe was born. We know that the death of God’s saints is precious in His sight, and we can safely assume that their birth will be marked by Him as well. For ourselves, however, we cannot be sure of the year of Wycliffe’s birth. Some say he was born in 1324, though it may have been as early as 1320.
Abbeys and Monasteries were the only places where children of that time could receive their early education. As Egliston Abbey was the nearest to Wycliffe, probably it was there that young John first attended school. It was a lonely hillside road, from Wycliffe to the Abbey, but the little boy would thus have walked it many times. It is interesting that the receptive pupil did not escape the impress of the Northern Yorkshire dialect of his day—a fact attested by an incident from modern times. Centuries after Wycliffe’s day, a group of Yorkshire men were gathered in their parson’s house. One of them picked up a copy of Wycliffe’s ancient translation of the New Testament and read some passages aloud. “Why”, his audience exclaimed, “here is the Bible in the speech of our own folk”.
Oxford was famous, even in those days, as a place of learning. Of course there were few Universities then, and Oxford was taxed to the limit. From one source we are told that there were thirty thousand students at Oxford before the Plague (1348). Whether or not there were so many as this, John of Wycliffe must have found Oxford a very crowded place. Certainly it would have presented a sharp contrast to the lonely solitude of his northern home. And he could not console himself with the thought that he would soon be able to choose some country village where he might earn a living. For a full training in divinity, a student had to settle for seventeen years of study—after that he could afford to call himself a Doctor of Theology! Wycliffe is thought to have gone to Oxford in 1340. He became a Fellow of Merton College in 1356, then Master of Balliol College in 1360, though resigning that office after two years. The future Reformer thus devoted twenty-two consecutive years to his university education.
Wycliffe was to make an outstanding witness at Oxford to the truth of the Scriptures. But his witness did not stand alone; it was strengthened by the testimony of a few who had gone before.
The first of these was Robert Greathead: he was one of the chief professors at Oxford in the early part of the previous century. Having taught students for thirty-five years Greathead became Bishop of Lincoln in 1235. After a time, the Pope attempted to secure for his own grand-son a canonry in Lincoln Cathedral. Greathead, now eighty years of age, strongly resisted the Pope’s interference, and drew from the Pontiff the exasperated demand: “Who is this crazy and foolish old man who has the effrontery to sit in judgement thus upon my doings?” It was in 1253 that Greathead successfully struck this blow at the papal supremacy in England.
Another great name among Wycliffe’s precursors is that of William of Occam known as the “Invincible Doctor”. He, too, lifted his voice against the papal supremacy, maintaining that Christ is the only Head of His Church. Occam died in 1347.
Richard Fitzralph is the name of another illustrious witness to the truth before Wycliffe came on the scene. He was Chancellor of the University of Oxford in 1333, and became Archbishop of Armagh in 1347. He is most famous for his outspoken attacks on the wretched practices of the Mendicant Friars. This was in fact a theme which Wycliffe himself was later to pursue with relentless vigour.
But the most outstanding witness to the grace of God that was raised before Wycliffe’s voice was heard in Oxford was given by Thomas of Bradwardine. He was for a time a Doctor of Theology in the University, though he later left to become Chancellor of St. Paul’s in London. In Bradwardine’s time, Palagianism was the plague of the theological world. This is a scheme of salvation which centres on man, maintaining that he is able to save himself. Against this scheme, Bradwardine levelled his full spiritual and intellectual powers, and gained for himself the title, “extoller and champion of the grace of God”. He became Archbishop of Canterbury in 1349, and those who feared God must have rejoiced at the appointment. This rejoicing, however, was destined to be short-lived—in a few weeks Bradwardine lay lifeless, struck down by the Black Death.
This plague came in 1348 to an England of three or four million people. By 1349, more than fifty thousand corpses had been interred in one burial ground alone, outside London. By its repeated visitations, the plague swept away more than half the people of city, town and country.
Wycliffe was at the time a comparatively young man, secluded in Oxford. But no one, however secluded, could remain unaffected by the Black Death. It knocked at every door. We have no record of the feelings of the sensitive young scholar, but we can be sure that his mind and heart were indelibly impressed. Surely, as he saw thousands fall at a stroke. Wycliffe yearned to serve his fellow-countrymen in the gospel. What exactly that service was to be, I suppose he might not then foresee. But as we shall see, John of Wycliffe was destined to lead England in her struggle to banish from her shores the pernicious Plague of Popery.
J.T.