In my January 18 blog post, the “saint” was a chair–today it is shackles! In both cases, these relate to St. Peter, the man designated as the very first pope.

In the Acts of the Apostles, Chapter 12, Peter is miraculously delivered from prison. Here is the text from the King James Version:

Peter . . . was kept in prison: but prayer was made without ceasing of the church unto God for him. And when Herod would have brought him forth, the same night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains: and the keepers before the door kept the prison.

And, behold, the angel of the Lord came upon him, and a light shined in the prison: and he smote Peter on the side, and raised him up, saying, “Arise up quickly.” And his chains fell off from his hands. And the angel said unto him, “Gird thyself, and bind on thy sandals.” And so he did. And he saith unto him, “Cast thy garment about thee, and follow me.”

The language is stilted by modern standards, but the tale is intriguing. Herod put Peter in jail, under lock and key, shackled, and well-guarded. The night before Peter was due to appear before Herod, an angel of light whomped Peter in the side, and when Peter obeyed the order of the angel to stand up (what else could he do–this angel was a smiter!), Peter’s shackles fell off his wrists.

For those of you who have followed this series (even intermittently), many times the skeletons of saints have been split up–a jawbone going to one location, a femur to another, a hand to a third. In this way, various locations could become places of pilgrimage for those seeking special blessings by coming into contact with these bones (aka “relics”).

Well, the veneration for Peter’s skeleton, interred in Rome, was so great that popes decided that they dassn’t allow so much as a single bone of this saint (and putative first pope) to leave Rome–so as not to seem to enormously favor (and, frankly, economically benefit) any particular location. Or, more cynically, they wanted to keep Rome as the epicenter of any commerce in Petrine relics.

But, though “capitalism” didn’t arise as a term until a millennium later, those popes still found a way to make good bank over Peter-phernalia in the territories of Christendom beyond Rome. They used the iron shackles that (they believed or at least contended) were the ones that miraculously fell from Peter’s wrists. As Butler reports:

The popes were accustomed to send the filings of these chains as precious relicks, to devout princes, and they were often instruments of miracles. The pope himself rasped off these filings . . . .

Note that the filings were not made available to the poor, the sick, the blind, or the maimed–but instead were marketed to “devout princes.” What is more, these iron filings were often “enclosed in a cross or a golden key [the key historically symbolizing St. Peter]” so that the recipients “hung such keys about their necks as preservatives from dangers.” No doubt these devout princes themselves likewise served as preservatives, keeping the popes and churches from dangers.

There is, most certainly, something powerful about taking the images, symbols, and tools of oppression–including shackles and crosses in Christianity–and powerfully (re)claiming them for oneself. Being a “Methodist” was originally an insult hurled at John Wesley’s peeps–they seemed to always have a “method” for everything! Academicians now speak of “Queer Studies,” showing the reclamation of that insult as well. I’m just not fully convinced that sending iron filings, embedded in golden keys or crosses (likely silver or gold), to allied princes as a quid pro quo is quite the same thing. N’est-ce pas?