On May 20, 325 CE, some of the most powerful bishops in the Christian world gathered in the city of Nicaea (in modern-day Turkey) for a meeting that would shape Christianity for centuries to come. Called together by Emperor Constantine, the First Council of Nicaea was the first ecumenical council — meaning it brought together church leaders from across the Roman Empire to settle major disputes and try to unify the faith. Christianity had just been legalized a few years earlier under Constantine’s Edict of Milan, and now it was time to get the house in order.

The biggest issue on the table was a fiery debate called the Arian controversy. A bishop named Arius, from Alexandria, was preaching that Jesus wasn’t fully divine, but rather a created being — something “less” than God the Father. That didn’t sit well with a lot of church leaders who believed in the full divinity of Christ. The council came together to settle the matter once and for all, and they eventually sided against Arius, declaring him a heretic and banning his teachings.

WILD Fact: Arius was ultimately exiled for his belief, but years later, on the day before being re-admitted into the church, Arius suddenly died in a public latrin from severe diarrhea.

Out of that decision came the first version of what we now call the Nicene Creed — a formal statement of belief that spelled out the nature of the Trinity, declaring that Jesus is “of the same substance” as the Father. It was the Church’s way of drawing a line in the sand, setting clear doctrine, and saying what it meant to be Christian. The council also tackled other issues — like the date of Easter, how to handle clergy misconduct, and church structure — but the Arian debate stole the spotlight.

The Council of Nicaea marked a turning point. For the first time, Christian doctrine was being decided with imperial support, backed by the Roman Empire itself. It set a precedent for future councils and showed how theology and politics would walk hand-in-hand for centuries to come. So on May 20, 325, what started as a theological argument turned into a cornerstone moment — one that would help shape the core beliefs of Christianity to this very day.

On May 20, 1521, a young Spanish soldier named Ignatius of Loyola took a direct hit from a cannonball during a battle at the siege of Pamplona — and that one moment changed the course of his life, and the history of the Catholic Church. At the time, Ignatius wasn’t a saint or scholar — he was a proud, fiery nobleman with dreams of military glory. But when that cannonball shattered his leg, it ended his soldiering days and forced him into months of painful recovery.

As he lay in bed, doctors re-broke and reset the bone — more than once — to fix the damage, but his body wasn’t the only thing getting reshaped. With nothing to do but read, Ignatius reached for what was lying around: books about the life of Christ and stories of the saints. Those readings hit him harder than the cannonball ever did. He started to feel a pull toward spiritual life, realizing that serving God might be a greater calling than serving kings.

That injury became the turning point. After he recovered, Ignatius gave up his noble lifestyle and headed on a pilgrimage. He spent time in prayer, fasting, and solitude, even living in a cave for a while. Eventually, he would go on to study theology and gather a group of like-minded men who wanted to change the world through education, discipline, and faith. That group would become the Society of Jesus — better known as the Jesuits.

So while May 20, 1521 may have looked like a soldier’s downfall, it was really the beginning of a spiritual giant’s rise. That cannonball didn’t just take out his leg — it knocked Ignatius off one path and onto another. From battlefield ambition to religious transformation, Ignatius of Loyola went on to become a Catholic saint, a reformer, and the founder of one of the most influential religious orders in history.

A Ruff Meal🍽️
Exploring Antarctica in the early 1900s wasn’t just cold — it was life-threatening. Supplies ran out. Temperatures plummeted. And when things got desperate, some expeditions had to make an unthinkable choice: eat their own sled dogs to survive. Notably, during Douglas Mawson’s 1912 Australasian Antarctic Expedition, things went horribly wrong. After one team member died and rations ran low, Mawson was forced to kill and eat his sled dogs, one by one. He later wrote about the horrific taste and texture, and how some dogs had already been poisoned by their own food, likely making things worse. Even Ernest Shackleton, known for keeping morale high, admitted that had conditions gotten worse, dog meat was on the menu. As grim as it was, it wasn’t out of cruelty — it was a last resort in one of the most brutal environments on Earth. ❄️🐾

Doctor’s Orders🫨
In the 19th century, many Victorian doctors believed that women suffering from “hysteria” — a catch-all diagnosis for anything from anxiety to boredom to having opinions — could be cured through... wait for it… orgasms. Of course, they didn’t call it that. They described it as “hysterical paroxysm,” and doctors would manually stimulate their female patients to bring about “relief.” This was actually considered a legitimate medical procedure, and was so common that some doctors complained of hand cramps. The solution? Inventing the vibrator. One of the first electrical household appliances, it was marketed in the late 1800s as a medical device — to help doctors (and later women themselves) manage hysteria more “efficiently.” Totally clinical, of course. Absolutely not for pleasure. (Wink.) So yes — in a very roundabout, deeply awkward way, Victorian medicine helped pioneer a certain... technological revolution. 🩺

The Soccer War⚽️
In 1969, tensions between El Salvador and Honduras exploded — literally — in what became known as “The Soccer War.” And yes, it was triggered in part by a World Cup qualifying match. The two countries were already struggling with land disputes, immigration issues, and political instability, but a three-game soccer series between their national teams added a matchstick to the powder keg. Fans clashed, tempers flared, and when El Salvador won the deciding game on June 27, violence broke out in both countries. Just two weeks later, El Salvador launched a military invasion of Honduras. The war lasted 100 hours, left around 2,000 people dead, and only ended after international pressure and a ceasefire brokered by the Organization of American States. To be clear: the war wasn’t really about soccer — but the match was the emotional spark that lit the fuse on already burning political tensions. ⚽🪖

A Thousand Cuts🩸
In imperial China, one of the most brutal punishments ever devised was lingchi, or “death by a thousand cuts.” And yes — it was exactly what it sounds like. Reserved for the worst crimes like treason or patricide, lingchi involved slowly slicing the condemned person’s body over a period of hours, sometimes even days. Executioners would begin with fleshier parts (like limbs or chest), moving gradually toward more vital areas. Some accounts say the final blow — to the neck or heart — was saved for last, making sure the suffering was both prolonged and public. It wasn’t just a physical punishment; it was meant to be a spiritual one, too. In traditional Chinese belief, dying without a whole body could affect your afterlife — so lingchi added insult to injury, in the most literal sense. The practice was officially abolished in 1905, but its terrifying legacy remains.🩸⛓️

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