Transcript
Narrator (0:01)
Every day, our world gets a little more connected, but a little further apart. But then there are moments that remind us to be more human.
Amica Insurance Representative (0:13)
Thank you for calling Amica Insurance.
Aaron Manke (0:15)
Hey, I was just in an accident.
Amica Insurance Representative (0:18)
Don't worry. We'll get you taken care of.
Narrator (0:19)
At Ameca, we understand that looking out for each other isn't new or groundbreaking. It's human. Ameca. Empathy is our best policy.
Aaron Manke (0:34)
Welcome to Erin Menke's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and Mild. Our world is full of the unexplainable. And if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities. Imagine having a debate about any topic in the universe, from politics or sports teams to which type of pizza is better, New York or New Haven. And then someone says those frustrating words. Hey, I'm just playing devil's advocate. With that your lighthearted jabs about the best pizza toppings and cheese to tomato sauce ratios, I'll die in your throat. You'll be here all night. And by the time you're done, you won't even be sure if you like pizza anymore. These days, the phrase devil's advocate refers to someone who will take a position they may not necessarily agree with just for the sake of argument. But the favorite phrase of the worst person in your debate club actually used to be a real job. You see, back in the 16th century, the advocates diaboli was the person who literally took the side of the devil or against the saints for over a thousand years. Becoming a saint in the Roman Catholic Church was kind of up to individual bishops. It wasn't until the 1100s that the process of becoming a saint, called canonization, was formalized by the Pope. To become a saint, someone would have to fit very specific parameters. First, the candidate would have to be dead for at least five years. Next, the Church would launch an investigation to ensure that they lived a holy life full of virtue. After that, the Church confirmed that people were drawn to prayer because of the candidate's actions. And finally, the Church needed to prove that the candidate performed two verified miracles, complete with witnesses and evidence. If all those points could be checked off the list, then the candidate could officially become a Saint. Well, in 1587, Pope Sixtus V decided the canonization process needed to be stricter. To prove a potential saint's holiness beyond a shadow of a doubt. They needed to treat the whole thing like a legal trial. They had to argue for and against canonization and present evidence to a jury on a saint's holiness. If the Church was going to argue in favor of a saint, then the opposition needed counsel as well. The devil would need an advocate, also called promotore fidei, which means promoter of the faith. It was the devil advocate's job to question the evidence supporting a saint's case. The devil's advocate would cross examine witnesses and call for expert testimony. They posited logical questions to the court. For example, if it was claimed that a candidate had cured a believer's disease, the devil's advocate would look for other explanations, like if the believer had taken medicine or if their condition had merely passed on its own. If the saint's claim stood up to the questioning, it would be allowed to be added as evidence. The saints in question also needed representation, which came in the form of a God's advocate. The God's advocate would defend their client and try to plead the case, proving their miracles. Now you might be questioning why the Church had a devil's advocate at all. Why wouldn't it just be simpler for the Pope to decide whether someone was a saint and call it a day? If only it were that easy. You see, in 1587, the Catholic Church was in a crisis. Protestantism was on the rise, and whole countries like England and France had broken with the Pope. In just two short decades, the Puritans would leave England to set up their own religious utopia in Massachusetts. The Vatican would no longer depend on its congregants to follow its decisions unquestioningly. Therefore, they wanted to present themselves as an authority who took opposing viewpoints into account by giving the space for the devil's advocate to argue against sainthood, the Church's decision to make someone a saint was that much stronger. If the Catholic Church had questioned the saints miracles but still found them credible, it was much harder for the Protestant faction to poke holes in the Church's integrity. The devil's advocate was part of the canonization process for nearly 400 years, until Pope John Paul II streamlined the process in 1983. However, the church still invites critics to weigh in on candidates for sainthood. In 2003, for example, they had atheist Christopher Hitchens testify against the canonization of Mother Teresa. The process certainly has its uses today, nearly 450 years after it was first introduced. But that's just my opinion. You can take it or leave it. After all, I'm just playing devil's advocate here.