Saint Gregory VII, a combatant pope
By Roberto de Mattei | 23 July 2025
In May of 1085, 1,040 years ago, came the death of Pope Saint Gregory VII, Hildebrand of Sovana, the greatest reformer of his time and one of the greatest popes in history.
Hildebrand, despite his reluctance, was elected to the papal throne on 29 April 1073, at the age of sixty. Just after his election he had this to say:
“I want you to know, dearest brothers, that we have been put in such a place as to be forced, willingly or unwillingly, to proclaim truth and justice to all peoples, above all to the Christian peoples, for the Lord said, ‘Cry out, do not tire of crying out, raise your voice like a trumpet and proclaim to my people their crimes.’”
Gregory VII confronted the moral ills of his time head-on. A few months after his election, in 1074, he convened a council in Rome and passed two important decrees: the first against priests who were transgressors of the law on celibacy, the second against simony; he then sent legates and letters everywhere, requiring that the bishops hold councils to promulgate these decrees and see to their observance. At a second council in 1075, he condemned the lay investiture of bishops.
For Gregory, there was a close connection between simony and the politics of investiture. Public authorities (emperor, king, dukes and counts) in fact designated the prelates, determined their selection, and sometimes created them, bestowing the crosier or ring, the insignia of their religious office. Gregory’s goal was to restore the dignity and independence of the episcopate, opposing lay investiture by the emperor or other secular powers.
Emperor Henry IV, the clergy of Germany and those of Lombardy rebelled against the pope. Gregory summoned Henry to appear in Rome on a given day, with the threat of excommunication if he failed to do so. Henry then convened a council against Gregory in Worms, and arranged with the prefect of Rome, Cencio, to depose the pope. Cencio, on Christmas night 1075, entered with his armed men into Saint Mary Major, where the pontiff was celebrating a ceremony, tore him from the altar, wounding him on the head, and took him prisoner. But the people freed the pope a few hours later. Gregory convened a new council in 1076 at which he solemnly excommunicated Henry and declared the subjects of Germany and Italy released from their oath of loyalty, writing, however, to the German princes that they should not abuse the excommunication against the king, but seek to get him to change his mind.
The pope’s sentence was a terrible blow to Henry’s cause in Germany. Many of his subject lords rebelled and called a diet to appoint his successor. Seeing the danger, Henry went down into Italy to reconcile with the pope. Gregory, who had left Rome to go to Germany to attend the Diet of Augsburg, having learned of Henry’s journey to Italy, went from Mantua to Canossa — to the castle of Countess Matilda, who was faithful to him. It was the month of January. At first Gregory refused to receive Henry, but the latter came to the castle of Canossa walking barefoot through the snow, dressed in a tunic of rough wool. The pope was distrustful of such sudden repentance, but Countess Matilda and Abbot Hugh of Cluny implored the pontiff not to reject the supplications of a penitent. After three days of waiting, Henry was officially admitted to the presence of the pope, pardoned and absolved from excommunication on 28 January 1077.
Nearly seven centuries after Emperor Theodosius had knelt in penitence before Bishop Ambrose of Milan, a new emperor was kneeling before the religious authority of the Church. But Henry IV’s repentance, unlike that of Theodosius, was not sincere. The sovereign did not remain faithful to his promises, and although the pope had forbidden him to be crowned as king of Italy, he had himself crowned and took up arms against Rudolf of Swabia, who had meanwhile been elected emperor in his stead by the German princes.
Gregory VII reacted firmly, asserting his authority. He summarised his position in the Dictatus Papae, a collection of statements of principle showing the relations that had to exist between the Holy Roman Empire and the papacy. A war broke out between the those faithful to the emperor and those to the pope.
Gregory found support in Matilda of Canossa, an extraordinary woman of Lombard lineage. After her husband was assassinated, Matilda had been left alone to govern a vast state in central Italy, which, having no heirs, she gave to Gregory in 1079, in open defiance of the emperor. Henry IV convened a council in Brixen, at which he deposed the pope and decreed Matilda deposed and banished from the empire. The German sovereign then descended on Rome and laid siege to the pope in Castel Sant’Angelo. Gregory was deposed, and the antipope Clement was solemnly enthroned in his place. On Easter Sunday, 31 March 1079, Henry, together with his wife Bertha, received the imperial crown from the antipope. The Norman prince Robert Guiscard rushed to the aid of Gregory VII, but the sacking of the city by his army provoked a reaction from the people, who, incited by the faction opposed to the pope, rose up in arms.
Gregory, protected by the weapons of Robert Guiscard, was forced to flee, and went into voluntary exile in Salerno, where he renewed the excommunication against Henry and the antipope Clement shortly before he died on 24 May 1085. He was canonised in 1606 by Pope Paul V, and his remains are venerated in the cathedral of Salerno.
It is said that his last words were, “Dilexi iustitiam, et odivi iniquitatem, propterea morivi in exilio,” echoing those of the psalmist — “Thou hast loved justice, and hated iniquity: therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.” (Ps 44:9)
The life of Saint Gregory VII teaches us many things. I would like to emphasise one of them. The pope, like Jesus Christ, whose Vicar he is, has always been a sign of contradiction within and outside the Church. The life of Gregory VII was a constant struggle. Some think that in the Middle Ages, or in other eras, Christians could live without caring what the pope said and did. It is not so. In the Middle Ages, as in every historical era, all Christians, even the most ordinary, were called to become aware of the struggle the Church faced and had to choose between a pope and an emperor, between a pope and an antipope, assuming responsibility before God for their choice. The life of a Christian, like that of the Church, is a struggle, and one cannot avoid this battle by limiting oneself to following the teachings and rites of the Church without taking part in the battle she wages every day against her enemies within and without.