Who can say no to an archangel?

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The Maid of Orleans is probably better known by the anglicized version of her name: Joan of Arc. Her story has been told often. It always bears repeating. I knew her name before I knew anything else about her. As a five-year old, I wondered why a can of kidney beans would be called Joan of Arc. It remains a mystery.

My next exposure to her came from a painting hanging on an office wall in the single building comprising the Huxley Consolidated School System in Huxley, Iowa. I was in second grade. I could read the caption beneath the painting. It read: Jeanne d’Arc, The Maid of Orleans.

Jeanne/Joan/Arc? Now I wanted to know more. She looked out from the picture with implacable purpose. Sheathed in full armor with a great sword held against her breast; it seemed to me that she was looking straight into my eyes. Did Joan really look like this? It was a painting; not a photo. I don’t know, but I believe the painter captured something real. She seemed special. In some misty way she has lingered in my mind ever since.

The name Jeanne seems to me more appropriate than Joan. No one ever called her Joan while she was alive in France. Why was she ever called Joan? I don’t know. Maybe at the time the English had an aversion to anything French, including names.

Over the years I gradually learned the details of Jeanne/Joan’s remarkable life.

The remarkable part began in 1425, when Jeanne, at the tender age of thirteen, had an improbable visit from the Archangel, Michael.

She was born to the d’Arc family, in the remote village hamlet of Domremy, near the Vosges forest of northeast France. She tended sheep for her family, and she also worked at the local inn. Her job at the inn was to lead the horses of the inn’s travelers down to water. As a result of this, she developed a comfortable knowledge of horses along with skill in bareback riding. Other than that, her life was completely typical of a country girl anywhere, sleepy, bucolic and uneventful.

The rest of France was anything but uneventful. The English occupied large chunks of the country. The French seemed incapable of driving them out. Jeanne grieved for France. She was a devout girl. She prayed for her country. Her prayers were answered. Although, not as she expected.

The Archangel Michael appeared to her - appointing her, by Right Divine, to lead the armies of French liberation. She resisted. How could a simple peasant girl like herself possibly do such a thing? Michael insisted! Who can say no to an Archangel, or Right Divine?

Jeanne’s family thought it impossible. How could a girl travel without scandal in the rough company of soldiers? How could the family pay for horses and armor? How could she gain access to the Royal Court? How this, how that, and so on… But all things are possible through the will of God.

Jeanne went to Baudicourt, the Governor of the next largest town, convincing him that her vision was truly inspired by God. He sent her to the castle of Chinon, where Charles – the

Dauphin (Prince of France) was holding court. Charles had his doubts about visions, but due to his current situation, he really did want to believe. He tested her anyway, by losing himself, without giveaway trappings, in the crowded Great Hall of Chinon. Jeanne was not deceived. She pushed straight through the crowd to the Dauphin saying: “Most noble Lord Dauphin, I am the maid, Jeanne d’Arc, sent by God to aid you and the Kingdom of France”, adding… “By His order you will be crowned King, in the city of Rheims”.

Astonishment followed.

Astonishment continued when Jeanne spoke privately with the Dauphin and his advisors. She spoke of State secrets, confidences, and policies that she should not have known about. She asked for an ancient sword that she also should not have known about. Before it was located, she described it in complete detail. The Royal circle was enthralled. They fitted her with armor, sat her astride a charger, noting her comfort in the saddle, and how well she couched her lance.

Some who watched were moved to tears of joy. Some others were suspicious.

Was she from Heaven, or elsewhere?

She was grilled for days by committees of theologians, parliamentarians, and councils. They could find no fault in her answers. In fact, because her answers were so compelling, certain doubters floated the idea that she might have been secretly groomed for her mission by enemies of the Dauphin.

The doubters were doubted.

France was happy to receive their very own Saint - Jeanne d’Arc – Appointed by Right, Divine. Now, the liberation would begin, but with more problems than just the occupying English. Charles was considered weak. He was also widely thought to be a bastard, and therefore, not a true heir to the throne. The French were divided into many small fiefdoms, most at odds with all the others. Rheims, the ancestral home of the Dauphin was held by the English army. The city of Orleans, center of the Orleanist cause, and the main support of Charles, was under siege.

None of this troubled Jeanne.

Her first martial decision was to ride at the head of her troops directly through the redoubts of the English army and directly into the besieged city. Experienced officers counseled more cautious maneuvers. Jeanne would have none of it. The only way for her was straight ahead. Her boldness lifted the spirits of her soldiers, and weakened the knees of her opposition – English, or otherwise. She took the city. News of the,” Maid of Orleans”, traveled fast. The French were energized by this Saint at the leading edge of their assaults. The English were befuddled. How do you fight a Saint?

The French offensive continued through many battles until the English were completely driven out of France. Charles was crowned, King of all France - at Rheims – with Jeanne at his side. All was just as she had said it would be. Jeanne D’Arc thought her work done. She had triumphed in twenty consecutive battles. She had been wounded several times. A few times, she had been very seriously wounded.

The voices had ceased to speak to her. She wanted to go home to her sheep, and the horses at the inn.

Nobody wanted her to go home, even though certain grumpy factions of both church and court had noticed that she didn’t fight for their interests - exactly. Instead, she fought for God and France.

The modern notion of France, as a country, begins with Jeanne d’Arc. Before her there was only a jumble of Frankish principalities, united by little more than a common language. After Jeanne d’Arc - they were Frenchmen.

Self-serving factions at court forced an additional mission on her. The Duke of Burgundy, who was then Acting Regent of the newly freed city of Paris, was toying with the idea of returning the city to the English. I don’t know why.

Jeanne rode at the head of the army one more time.

She was captured and sold to the English.

Charles made no attempt to buy her back.

The English hated her. She was a prisoner of war, but aristocratic convention forbade her execution. Religious authority was falsely invoked. Her, “voices”, were denounced as the work of the Devil. She was accused of heresy. She was tortured to extract a confession. She refused to renounce the messages she had received from on High. In the end, May 29, 1431, she was burned to death at the stake. As the flames rose around her, she held two pieces of the burning wood before her to form a cross. Her last word was, “Jesus”!

Down in the crowded mass of onlookers, a soldier was recorded as saying: ”We are lost. We have burnt a Saint”.

Jeanne d’Arc was a miracle.

Like so many miracles, not a single law of physics was thwarted in the process of creating the miracle. Nobody saw the Archangel, Michael, talking to Jeanne. Nor did Jeanne ever claim to have seen him. She only said that he spoke to her. Also, Jeanne had no divine shield of protection, as her many wounds attest. The only thing supernatural was what she accomplished. God created the laws of physics. He seems reluctant to override them. That makes sense to me. Why interfere with your own prescriptions? The miracle is in the time and place - not in the physics.

As a result of this particular miracle, Charles was crowned King. I don’t think that was the real objective. Charles didn’t amount to much. Almost anyone would have made a better King. I think God’s real objective was to create a Nation. I’m pretty sure I’m right about that.

To what other end, I can’t imagine.

The plans of Heaven are inscrutable.

God knows. We don’t.

By K L. Shipley

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