Christopher Columbus: A Critical Historical Analysis Through His Own Words and Those of His Contemporaries
- THE IAA
- Oct 11
- 9 min read
“I am a most noteworthy sinner, but I have cried out to the Lord for grace and mercy, and they have covered me completely. I have found the sweetest consolation since I made it my whole purpose to enjoy His marvellous Presence.” - Christopher Columbus
By: Fr. Michael Della Penna, OFM
Christopher Columbus, the Genoese navigator whose fateful 1492 transatlantic voyage altered the course of world history, remains a polarizing figure. In popular imagination, he is either lionized as the heroic discoverer of the New World or vilified as the symbol of imperial conquest and indigenous oppression. The truth, however, like history itself, is far more nuanced. A balanced, critical approach to assessing Columbus, especially through his own writings and those of his contemporaries, reveals a man of profound religious conviction and grand purpose, yet also one deeply entangled in the limitations, ignorance, and contradictions of his time.
Columbus: A Man of Sincere Faith and Spiritual Zeal
In order to try and understand Columbus, one must grasp the historical milieu that shaped his deeply spiritual ethos and interior motivations. Columbus was not merely a navigator or some opportunist, but rather a devout Catholic and a Secular Franciscan who understood himself to be called to fulfill a providential mission of evangelization. His own journals, letters, and the writings of contemporaries such as the Dominican Bishop Bartolomé de Las Casas and his son Ferdinand, consistently portray a man who saw himself not as a conqueror, but as he often signed his own name; a true “Christum ferens”—a bearer of Christ. Las Casas wrote:
“And in truth he was the first who opened the gates of this Ocean Sea, through which he entered and introduced himself to these most remote lands, and to kingdoms until then so hidden from our Savior Jesus Christ and His blessed name–he who before any other was worthy to give tidings of Christ and to bring these countless races, forgotten for so many centuries, to worship Him. His surname was Columbus which means new settler. This surname suited him in that by his industry and labors he was the cause… of an infinite number of souls…having gone and going every day of late to colonize that triumphant city of Heaven.”
Las Casas, though later a strong critic of Spanish colonial abuses, wrote with admiration that Columbus had “sweetness and benignity,” describing him as a man faithful to Church doctrine, who confessed and received the Eucharist frequently, prayed the Divine Office daily, fasted and was passionately devoted to the Immaculate Conception of Mary and St. Francis; even wearing the brown habit. At the start of each day, Columbus required his crew to sing religious hymns:
Blessed be the light of the day
And the Holy Cross, we say;
And the Lord of Veritae,
And the Holy Trinity.
Blessed be th’ immortal soul,
And the Lord who keeps it whole,
Blessed be the light of day,
And He who sends the night away.
Columbus, in a letter to Amerigo Vespucci, described himself in the following way:
“I feel persuaded, by the many and wonderful manifestations of Divine Providence in my especial favour, that I am the chosen instrument of God in bringing to pass a great event—no less than the conversion of millions who are now existing in the darkness of Paganism."
Columbus often referred to himself as a servant of God, and his letters express a staunch commitment to living out his faith authentically. Columbus understood his personal mission to evangelize and spread Christianity was not only divinely inspired, but a fulfillment of biblical prophecy. It was a mission whose ultimate destiny transcended exploration or economic gain.
According to the esteemed Harvard historian, Samuel Eliot Morison, who authored the Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Columbus and his family were different from many of the others who wanted "to get gold quick and go home." Some recent scholars even claim any search for gold was for the specific purpose of funding efforts to liberate the Holy Land and fulfill Biblical prophecy. This is supported by his instructions in own words to the King: “I urged Your Highnesses to spend all the profits of this my enterprise” to help reclaim Jerusalem. While many continue to question his intent and motivation, an autobiographical self-reflection reveals his deeper purpose. The first entry in Columbus’ journal of his maiden voyage dedicated to the Trinity stated,
“Because of the report that I had given to Your Highnesses [Ferdinand and Isabella] about the lands of India. . . Your Highnesses, . . . lovers and promoters of the Holy Christian Faith, . . . thought of sending me, Christobal Colon, to the said regions of India to see the said princes and the peoples and lands, . . . to see how their conversion to our Holy Faith might be undertaken.”
These sentiments are not incidental or propaganda; they were echoed repeatedly and were consistent with a missionary spirit that had deep roots in Franciscan and apocalyptic Catholic traditions of the 15th century. Scholars such as Carol Delaney, a former professor of Standford and Brown University and Delno West argue that Columbus’s religious intentions were not a post-facto justification but a sincere driving force. Not only was Columbus convinced his mission was from God but he was convinced it was for God, with the purpose of proclaiming His Holy Gospel. When Columbus finally arrived on shore, he christened the island San Salvador – “Holy Savior” — and prayed:
“O Lord, Almighty and everlasting God, by Thy Holy Word Thou has created the heaven, and the earth, and the sea; blessed and glorified be Thy Name, and praised be Thy Majesty, which hath deigned to use us, Thy humble servants, that Thy holy Name may be proclaimed in this second part of the earth.”
This was not an isolated incident but a tradition upon arriving on each island that he explored. Columbus would order his men to erect a large wooden cross “as a token of Jesus Christ our Lord, and in honor of the Christian faith.”
When he landed in Cuba on October 28, for example, he made an immediate plea on their behalf in his journal that day.
“I truly believe, most Serene Princes . . .that, given devout religious persons knowing thoroughly the language that they use, soon all of them would become Christian.”
Continuing his petition to the monarchs, he pleaded,
“I hope in Our Lord that Your Highnesses, with much diligence, will decide to send such persons in order to bring to the Church such great nations and to convert them.”
These requests, made at a time of such personal accomplishment, further illuminate Columbus’s great devotion to things spiritual; the informed reader cannot doubt that he was truly motivated by his desire to serve God.
The Ethical Dissonance: Noble Intent, Colonial Consequence
Columbus describes his altruistic hopes in detailing his personal interactions with the indigenous people:
“I gave them many beautiful and pleasing things, which I had brought with me, for no return whatever, in order to win their affection, and that they might become Christians and inclined to love our King and Queen and Princes and all the people of Spain.”
Yet, even sincere spiritual zeal does not erase the moral consequences of Columbus’s voyages. While his personal writings often call for kindness, persuasion, and love in converting the indigenous people— “for I knew that they were a people to be delivered and converted to our holy faith rather by love than by force.”—his heart felt aspirations were eventually hijacked by corrupt men and thus he is accused of indirectly contributing to systemic exploitation, forced labor, and cultural destruction.
Critically, Columbus did engage in acts that are difficult to reconcile with the Christian values he so devoutly professed. On later voyages, especially in his absences, Indigenous people were taken as captives, some sold into slavery. Although the records shows that Columbus strictly ordered his men to treat the natives with respect, to refrain from raping and fought to prevent abuses, his governance was uneven, and he often failed to prevent exploitation.
Las Casas, while defending Columbus’s personal character, lamented that “Ignorance got the admiral into this error.” He explains further:
“The Admiral’s (Columbus’) intention was good, if one looks simply at intention. And does not measure it by deed. And allows for mistake and ignorance of the law.”
That being said, records show Columbus did not force natives to slave labor but rather compensated them properly. He punished and even executed some of the Spaniards who went against his orders and abused the natives; a fact never mentioned because it does not fit the narrative.
In effect, Columbus’s inability to govern effectively and his underestimation of the complex ramifications of colonization made him complicit in the darker legacy of empire. This dichotomy—between spiritual aspiration and imperial outcome—remains the most difficult element of Columbus’s legacy to reconcile.
His fervent Catholicism and Franciscan worldview called for the salvation of souls, but his expeditions catalyzed the deaths, displacement, and exploitation of many.
Historical Context and Cultural Complexity
To fairly assess Columbus, one must also acknowledge the era he lived in. The late 15th century was marked by religious fervor, apocalyptic expectation, and a European worldview that equated non-Christian territories with missionary obligation or territorial opportunity.
The enslavement of non-Christian peoples was widely accepted by European powers, and the Spanish Crown explicitly authorized the claiming of lands and conversion of pagans.
Professor Delaney rightly notes that holding Columbus accountable by today’s standards—without context—is a form of presentism. “Columbus has become a symbol for everything that went wrong,” she argues, “but the more I read of his own writings...my understanding of him totally changed.”
Columbus was not a conquistador nor a genocidal ideologue. His mission, in his eyes, was one of salvation and discovery—not destruction. This does not absolve him of fault, but it demands a contextual rather than caricatured judgment.
Legacy Reconsidered: Man, Myth, and Memory
Columbus was flawed, undoubtedly. His navigational genius did not extend to leadership or colonial governance. He misjudged, misunderstood, and mishandled many aspects of his dealings with the indigenous peoples. But his legacy is not one of oppression. It is a legacy of courage, faith, vision, and spiritual purpose.
Historian Samuel Eliot Morison, in Admiral of the Ocean Sea, admitted Columbus’s failings but could not deny his significance: “I cannot forget the eternal faith that sent this man forth, to the benefit of all future ages.” Indeed, his voyage irrevocably connected the Eastern and Western Hemispheres, an encounter that—while costly—reshaped global history.
Columbus should not be celebrated uncritically, nor should he be cancelled. Instead, he should be studied: as a man of deep Christian conviction who strove to serve God through exploration, but who became unintentionally entangled in the consequences of an expanding imperial age.
Faith Amidst Flaws
Christopher Columbus once confessed, “I am a most noteworthy sinner, but I have cried out to the Lord for grace and mercy.” This acknowledgment captures the duality of his life: sincere faith marred by failure, high ideals undermined by human error. A true historical understanding must neither sanctify nor demonize him, but situate him within the spiritual, cultural, and political currents of his time.
His desire to evangelize, his prayerful Franciscan-inspired humility, and his dedication to God's mission deserve recognition. Yet his shortcomings, especially in failing to foresee or prevent the devastating consequences of colonization, demand honest discussion. In the end, Columbus is best remembered not as a villain or saint, but as a flawed instrument—convinced of his divine calling—whose actions helped shape the modern world.
Conclusion: A Call to Holiness
Reflection: While it is easier and even tempting to point out the speck in another’s eye, we are all invited to recognize our own faults and failures and so be challenged to hear Jesus’ command in our own hearts: “He who is without sin, cast the first stone.” If we are honest, as sinners, it is perhaps not difficult to see something of ourselves in Columbus, who struggled with putting his faith into practice and living a truly moral life.
Pope Francis wrote “We are all called to be holy by living our lives with love and by bearing witness in everything we do, wherever we find ourselves.” He went on to write that God: “wants us to be saints and not to settle for a bland and mediocre existence.” Each saint is called for a unique and special mission, planned from all eternity by the Father to reflect and embody, at a specific moment in history, a certain aspect of the Gospel.
Knowing that “not everything a saint says is completely faithful to the Gospel; not everything he or she does is authentic or perfect, he therefore offered a new definition of holiness as “an encounter between our weakness and the power of God’s grace.” He concludes by assuring us: “The Lord will bring it to fulfilment despite your mistakes and missteps, provided that you do not abandon the path of love but remain ever open to his supernatural grace, which purifies and enlightens.”
Fr Della Penna is pastor of St Leonard's Church in the North End and was responsible for providing a new, safe, and public home for the North End's Christopher Columbus statue which was vandalized in 2020
Works Cited (selected):
• Bartolomé de Las Casas, History of the Indies
• Christopher Columbus, Journal, Book of Prophecies
• Carol Delaney, Columbus and the Quest for Jerusalem (2006)
• Samuel Eliot Morison, Admiral of the Ocean Sea (1942)
• Delno C. West & August Kling, The Libro de las profecías of Christopher Columbus
• Housley, Norman. Religious Warfare in Europe 1400–1536
• Schwaller, John Frederick. The History of the Catholic Church in Latin America
• Bárth, András. Millenarianism and the Late Medieval World