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The Day a Cardinal Preached the Reformation

Writer: Joanne Chastain
Joanne Chastain
Sep 17
7 min read
Before presenting the Galileo affair and the Reformation, “Cardinal Bellarmine” does something unexpected: Mike prays for his university class.
Before presenting the Galileo affair and the Reformation, “Cardinal Bellarmine” does something unexpected: Mike prays for his university class.

It's never a dull moment in the Chastain household! Joanne had no idea she would be making a cardinal's biretta, a three cornered hat, for Mike to wear in his college class, but there it is.


The thrust of Mike's current university class is the Galileo affair, the seventeenth-century controversy in which new astronomical discoveries, biblical interpretation, and the authority of the Roman Catholic Church collided. Galileo supported the Copernican view that the earth moves around the sun. In 1616, Cardinal Robert Bellarmine, a leading Roman Catholic theologian and member of the Roman Inquisition, admonished Galileo not to teach or defend the Copernican theory because it went against the teaching of the church. Years later, in 1633, Galileo was found “vehemently suspected of heresy” and ultimately spent the remainder of his life under house arrest.


The professor has developed the use of reenactment to study the controversy, and everyone in the class has been assigned a role for the next several weeks. Mike was chosen as their “leading man,” Cardinal Bellarmine (bell-ar-MEE-nay), and his assignment was to give the class the historical setting surrounding the controversy.


He went to class carrying a bag containing a cardinal’s robe and biretta. Under his desk, he tucked another important part of his presentation: Joanne's cookies for the class.


When the professor arrived, he walked over to Mike and handed him the gavel. “The class is yours,” he said. Then he sat down and announced that, for the duration of the presentation, he did not exist.


Mike asked the class to wait while he stepped outside. A fellow student named Will went with him and helped him into his cardinal’s robes. Then Will returned to the classroom, struck the gavel, and formally announced the entrance of “His Eminence, Cardinal Bellarmine.”


And in strode Mike.


The atmosphere in the room changed immediately.


Mike had become Cardinal Robert Bellarmine, the seventeenth-century Roman Catholic theologian who became deeply involved in the theological controversies

surrounding Galileo.


Will began passing out the cookies.


Dinner and a show.


Before Mike began, however, the professor surprised him. Knowing Mike, he said that if he wanted to pray, he could.


So “Cardinal Bellarmine” raised his arms and said, “Bow your heads in prayer.”


And Mike prayed for the class.


Really prayed.


In a secular university classroom.


When he finished, he heard “Amens” around the room.


Then someone held up a cookie. “Okay, we’ve got the wafers. Where’s the wine?”

The room erupted in laughter.


But beneath all the humor, Mike had something serious he wanted the students to understand. He began setting the scene.


It was the early seventeenth century. The telescope was changing what human beings could see in the heavens. Long-held assumptions about the universe were being questioned. Galileo's observations raised questions not merely about astronomy, but about how Scripture should be interpreted when claims about the natural world appeared to conflict with traditional readings—and about who had authority to decide.


Speaking as Bellarmine, Mike explained the Roman Catholic concerns of the period.

Then he turned toward another controversy raging through Europe: the Protestant Reformation. He told the class that he had just returned from the Netherlands, where those troublesome Protestants were spreading their “heresies.”


And then Mike did something wonderful.


Playing the part of Cardinal Bellarmine, Mike began telling the class about the "dangerous ideas" these Protestants were spreading across Europe.


He played it big.


And here Mike summarized the great convictions of the Reformation, biblical truths that transformed the world for Christ, borrowing from the future Synod of Dort.


Then the Cardinal began his indictment of those "troublesome Protestants."


Sola Scriptura — Scripture Alone

“Can you imagine?” the Cardinal protested. “These Protestants actually believe that Scripture is the final, infallible authority for the church!”


The Roman Catholic Church taught that Scripture was the Word of God, but not that Scripture alone was the church’s final authority; Scripture was to be received and interpreted within the church’s authoritative tradition and teaching office.


And without ever stepping out of character, Mike had just told the class one of the great convictions of the Reformation: God’s Word alone is our final authority.


Solus Christus — Christ Alone

The Cardinal moved on to the next outrage. “And now they say Christ alone! As though the work of Jesus Christ alone is sufficient to save you!”


Roman Catholic teaching affirmed that salvation comes through Christ and His grace, while also teaching that this grace is ordinarily communicated through the church and its sacraments and that the believer cooperates with grace for his salvation.


Mike made the contrast unmistakable: Christ’s finished work is sufficient. Our salvation rests in Him.


Sola Fide — Faith Alone

Then came another "scandalous" Protestant claim. “Faith alone! They say a sinner can be justified before God through faith in Christ apart from the works by which he becomes righteous!”


Roman Catholic teaching rejected justification by faith alone as the Reformers defined it, understanding justification (being made right with God) as involving both the forgiveness of sins and an ongoing inward justification. Roman Catholicism understands saving grace as God’s free, undeserved gift that is imparted to the believer, enabling and transforming him so that he can cooperate with God’s grace. The Reformers emphasized grace as God’s wholly undeserved favor in Christ: Christ supplies all the merit necessary for justification, and the sinner receives His righteousness through faith alone.


Behind the Cardinal’s mock indignation, Mike was proclaiming the heart of the Reformation: We are justified by faith alone in Christ alone—not because our faith is worthy, but because Christ is.


Sola Gratia — Grace Alone

The Cardinal was thoroughly exasperated now. “And grace alone! These Protestants insist that salvation is God’s work from beginning to end!”


The Reformation dispute concerned, among other things, whether fallen human beings cooperate with God’s saving grace in justification or whether salvation is entirely God’s gracious work.


Mike’s point was simple: We bring no merit to God as the price of our salvation. Salvation is His undeserved gift.


Soli Deo Gloria — To the Glory of God Alone

Finally, the Cardinal arrived at the Protestants’ great conclusion. “And after all that, they say, ‘To God alone be the glory!’”


Roman Catholics certainly affirmed that glory belongs to God. The Reformers used Soli Deo Gloria to emphasize that because salvation is God's work from beginning to end, accomplished by Christ and received entirely by grace, all credit and glory for our salvation belong to Him.


And so, through the voice of a seventeenth-century Cardinal arguing against the Reformation, Mike had managed to tell a classroom full of college students what the Reformers believed about Scripture, Christ, faith, grace, and the glory of God.


He was playing Cardinal Bellarmine.


But he was preaching the true gospel.


He spoke for about twenty-five minutes, almost entirely from a single note card.


At the end, still in character, he looked around the classroom.


“Are you with me? If you’re with me, say 'amen.'”


“AMEN!” they answered.


And then something happened that Mike certainly hadn’t expected.


The students stood.


They gave him a standing ovation.


And the professor joined them.


Afterward, he thanked Mike for giving the subject the historical setting and gravity it deserved.


But the day wasn’t over.


•••


Several students wanted to keep talking, so Mike took them to Starbucks and bought coffee. They sat around a table discussing Christianity, Catholicism, the Reformation, and the gospel.


Then another young man walked by.


He had been in one of Mike’s previous classes, where they had studied Flannery O’Connor. He spotted Mike, came over to the table, and sat down.


“Mike, I’ve got some great news.”


“What’s that?”


“I’ve become a Christian.”


Mike began asking questions.


The young man explained that some of the things they had discussed in their earlier class had caused him to start thinking seriously about Christianity. He had recently been confirmed in the Roman Catholic Church.


That opened another conversation—this time about what it actually means to be a Christian.


Mike explained why the Reformers believed the question of justification was so important. Christianity is not ultimately about belonging to the right institution, performing enough religious acts, or making ourselves acceptable to God.


We are sinners who cannot rescue ourselves. Christ lived the righteous life we could never live and died the death our sins deserved. He rose again, and everyone who turns from sin and trusts in Him is forgiven and receives His righteousness as a gift.


The conversation kept growing.


Other students asked questions.


Someone wanted to know about people who had never heard the gospel.


People at nearby tables began listening.


What had begun as a twenty-five-minute history presentation had spilled out of the classroom, crossed the campus, and landed around a table at Starbucks in a conversation about Jesus Christ.


***


When Mike came home, he was almost bursting.


“It’s been a wonderful day,” he told Joanne.


And then he said something that rang true to her:


“I think this is what I’m made for.”


Joanne thought, I think he's right.


***


Mike went back to college as an older gentleman among young students. He did not go there because he needed another degree. He went because he loves Christ, loves to learn, loves young people, and believes that every classroom ultimately belongs to God.


Sometimes the opportunity to speak of Christ comes through a carefully prepared conversation.


Sometimes it comes through a question after class.


And apparently, sometimes it comes wearing a cardinal’s robe, carrying a gavel, and passing out cookies.


We never know what ordinary circumstance God may use to open a door for the Good News of Christ's Work.


So perhaps our prayer should simply be:

Lord, we are instruments in your hands. Make us ready to serve You. Give us courage, wisdom, love, and eyes to recognize the doors You open. And when You open one, help us walk through.



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