During the First Crusade, a rag-tag army of Christians set out from Europe with a fiery goal of taking back “Holy Lands” that had been claimed by the Turks. There were fully-equipped knights, with red and blue banners flying behind them, their armor glinting in the sun… and many nobles, too, would light out on this quest. These were the fortunate ones who could afford to take with them clothing, food, and supplies for shelter. They were joined by poor farmers, peasants, adventurers, and even criminals; all believed they were on a divine mission, under God’s protection, and it was their purpose to help the Byzantines drive back the ruthless and godless Turks.It would not take long for such zeal to give way to the reality of the sun; it was relentless, blazing hot, and unforgiving. It took these people several months to march through hostile territories, through burning, scorched countryside, toward a distant Holy Land. And at every step the Crusaders would find themselves beset by ambushes and skirmishes.
These were the young and old who were walking barefoot through extremely hostile terrain… they were beset by hunger, thirst, and the constant heat of an alien landscape. Indeed, many hundreds would die of exhaustion and sunstroke. So much so that the people kept moving and often discarded the dead by a dusty roadside. They were in constant fear of being overtaken by marauders (as had happened with the massacre of “Peter the Hermit’s” own army).
In 1097 AD they were nevertheless a formidable, massive horde as they approached the city of Antioch, the crown-jewel of the Byzantine Empire. Here was a city with a vast amount of wealth, and one that was equally as impregnable with outer walls stretching almost 10 miles, a series of nearly 200 towers, and a massive main tower that stretched 500 feet into the sky. A tired and desperate army settled in for an eight-month seige… one that almost destroyed them. They were starving within weeks, and facing a winter that seemed on the verge of drowning them in torrential rains. The encampments were quagmires, and many hundreds were dying from fever.
One of the peasant Crusaders, a man named Peter Bartholomew, began to have dreams and visions (hmm…) and revealed to the leaders that the actual lance which had pierced Christ’s side during his crucifixion was inside the walls of Antioch. And as word spread, it seemed it was not only Peter who was having these strange visions. It was enough for the leaders to attack the walls, breach them, and pour into the city of Antioch. Heavy fighting ensued, but the Crusading army was overwhelming in their sheer numbers, and many made their way quickly to the Church where Peter had seen his visions. After digging through the damp earth… a piece of rusted iron was discovered. And, miraculously, a spear lay nearby. The “Holy Lance” had been found, it seemed, and it was a divine confirmation of the Crusader’s quest. The capture of Antioch, and the miracle of finding this Holy Lance, were events that shifted the momentum of the Crusade. The rag-tag army was now rejuvenated, regrouped, and they would no longer suffer the ravages of heat, thirst, hunger or fever. They would instead hold the spear before them, as a very real and divine object, as they moved toward a fateful collision with Jerusalem.
