Has Keele Failed?

This was the title of a book edited by Charles Yeats, to which a number of then-prominent evangelical Anglicans contributed in 1995, arguing that ‘Keele’ had very much succeeded. What they meant was that the commitment made at the first National Evangelical Anglican Congress to remain as part of the Church of England, against pleas to leave, had a good outcome both for evangelicals and for the Church.

I refer to this in my e-book, A Strategy that Changes the Denomination, partly as an example of the historical development of Anglican evangelicalism, partly because I think it shows how past generations of evangelicals have been over-optimistic in their assessment of the last forty-five years.

If we think that the aim of ‘Keele’ was to ensure that evangelicals remained within the Church of England, then obviously it was a success. We have.

But that is surely not a sufficient aim.

If we assess the results of Keele by what subsequently happened, both to evangelicalism and to the Church, the outcome is far less assured, not least because the Church of England itself has changed so much since then.

When I was a young trainee clergyman (just six years on from Keele), the phrase going round was that we were ‘in it to win it’. In other words, our commitment to the Church of England was on the basis that we expected to change it — we expected it to become more evangelical. But more than that, we wanted it to be not just ‘the best boat to fish from’ but a better boat doing more fishing.

So is it?

My own answer would be ‘no’. It is not a worse boat, but it is not a better boat. More importantly, there is no greater commitment to actual fishing now than there was then. Yes, we have ‘Fresh Expressions’ — but doesn’t that say that the old expressions are a bit stale? And we have ‘Back to Church Sunday’, but then we fill our churches at Christmas anyway.

But are we an organization where the norm is seeking conversions? I don’t see that happening, and I don’t see that being encouraged to happen by those in positions of leadership — the bishops and the archbishops, despite the greater presence of supposed ‘evangelizers’ in their ranks.

If we assess the current state of the Church of England by the proposals put forward in the 1945 report, Towards the Conversion of England, we are no nearer addressing that agenda than sixty-six years ago — and Keele is just a ‘blip’, a bit of ‘in house’ business for a little group of enthusiasts.

Next year brings elections to our diocesan synods. I have argued in A Strategy that Changes the Denomination that we evangelicals need to organize ourselves to get good people elected onto our diocesan boards and governing bodies where they can systematically address the agenda so as to encourage the evangelization of the nation.

The problem is in getting organized! Where is the drive for this going to come from? Who is going to encourage it at the grass-roots level? Who is going to endorse it from their pulpits or in their parish magazines or the national church press? What needs shouting from the housetops is currently being whispered in private!

What Keele succeeded in doing, I have argued, is creating an ‘enclave’ for evangelicals, where they could safely get on with doing their thing without threatening, or being threatened by, the institution. But the ‘thing’ of the institution ought to be evangelism, and it isn’t, despite the fact that the evangelicals stayed in 1967. In this respect, Keele failed.

Can we do any better?

John Richardson
4 September 2011

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AEJCC, the first address

An Address to the Anglican Evangelical Junior Clergy Conference, Audley End, 11th-13th July 2011

Anglican Evangelism and Evangelical Anglicanism, 1945-2011 — the challenge we face

In some respects, the Church of England actually emerged from the Second World War in better shape than the nation itself. Nationally, there was a positive and proper sense of victory. For all the moral compromises the war had entailed, German Nazism, Japanese imperialism and Italian Fascism were nevertheless things the world was better off without.

In 1943, however, the Church Assembly had called for a commission “to survey the whole problem of modern evangelism, with special reference to the spiritual needs and prevailing intellectual outlook of the non-worshipping member of the community” and to report back with plans for “‘definite action’ to meet the spiritual needs of present-day men and women.”

That commission was duly appointed by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York and its report, Towards the Conversion of England, was published in 1945.

Although it is possible to criticize the report in some of the details, its explicit desire for ‘conversion’ would be applauded by Evangelicals, as would, in essence, its working definition of evangelism itself:

To evangelize is so to present Christ Jesus in the power of the Holy Spirit, that men shall come to put their trust in God through Him, to accept Him as their Saviour, and serve Him as their King in the fellowship of His Church. (Para 1, though see Packer 1976 for a critique)

Amongst other things, the report also contained radical proposals about lay equipping and ministry deemed necessary to the ambitious campaign of outreach it envisaged.

Thus it appeared the Church was ready for the challenge of the post-war world. So what happened?

In October 1944, William Temple, the Archbishop of Canterbury who had inspired the commission and the report, died at Westgate-on-Sea. His replacement, Geoffrey Fisher, was a man of a very different temper, and what the Church of England actually did over the next two decades was to revise the Canons of 1604.

Although this revision was long overdue (note the date!), and indeed had commenced before the war, a reviewer of a recent biography of Fisher is surely right in describing it as “a glaring example of mistaken priorities” (Donald Gray, review of Geoffrey Fisher, Archbishop of Canterbury 1945-1961, by David Hein, The Journal of Ecclesiastical History, [2008] 59:801).

And for good measure, when the revision of the Canons was completed, the next item on the Church’s agenda was liturgical revision, which took up the seventies and eighties. Only in 1988 was there a belated attempt at something similar with the declaration at the Lambeth Conference of the ‘Decade of Evangelism’. Even then, however, the Church was already immersing itself in the issues of women’s ordination and, now, consecration.

I begin here, however, in order to point out that, with good leadership, it is possible even for the Church of England to get its priorities right. But the sad truth is that we have generally had bad leadership. And that is why we are here — to consider the future leadership of the Church.

Had things gone differently, of course, then evangelical Anglicans might have found themselves playing a lead rôle in the life of the Church. As it was, they found themselves as a minority within an organization whose outward style was predominantly Anglo-Catholic and whose underlying theology was increasingly liberal.

Evangelicals were tolerated, but not taken very seriously. Nevertheless, evangelical ministry continued with vigour.

In the parishes, the Church Pastoral Aid Society provided a ‘cradle to college’ structure of youth activities — CYFA — which were definitive of evangelical pastoral ministry. CPAS also published a widely-used ‘family service’, which for many Evangelicals was the backbone of their Sunday morning gatherings.

In the universities, the Inter-Varsity Fellowship ensured that Christian Unions were effective instruments of reaching the ‘brightest and best’ with the gospel. Evangelical groups and churches were especially strong in Oxford and Cambridge.

Christian belief was also part of the public discourse. On the radio and in print, C S Lewis in particular, but others as well, ensured the continuation of a lively dialogue about faith. And in 1954 the first visit of the American evangelist Billy Graham, whilst highly controversial because of the nature of his message, brought thousands into the churches and scores, if not hundreds, into full-time ministry.

Up to the 1960s, baptisms, confirmations and vocations all remained at high levels — indeed they had somewhat increased in the post-war years. ‘Belief in God’ was naturally assumed to mean ‘belief in Christianity’, religious instruction in schools was instruction in the Christian religion, and thus most people had at least some familiarity with biblical events and Christian doctrine, through this as well as through occasional attendance at Church and via the general ‘osmosis’ of popular ideas, language and images.

Nevertheless, Anglican Evangelicals were uncertain about their place and rôle in the Church of England, particularly in the face of the advance of Liberalism.

In 1963, the Bishop of Woolwich, John Robinson, published a small paperback, Honest to God, which exploded like a bombshell in both church and nation. Essentially, it was a popular summary of the kind of theology being advanced by the German giants Rudolf Bultmann, Paul Tillich and Dietrich Bonhoeffer — men whose work dominated the theological scene well into the seventies, and was standard fare in universities and many theological colleges. What it suggested from a layman’s perspective, however, was that many in the hierarchy of the Church of England did not believe what they seemed to be telling ordinary people they ought to believe.

Honest to God thus triggered something of a national crisis of faith. At the same time, ideas like ‘situational ethics’ were challenging intellectual notions of traditional morality, with the suggestion that the only ethic was one of ‘love’, to be applied according to the particular context. And it must not be forgotten that this was an era of general social upheaval, as the austerity of the post-war years gave way to the ‘rock and roll’ fifties and then the ‘swinging’ sixties.

At the same time, and partly in reaction to Catholic and Liberal influences, Anglican Evangelicalism was somewhat austere and institutionalized. For most services, Evangelical clergy wore cassock, surplice, scarf and hood. Other than the CPAS material, services were entirely from the Book of Common Prayer and almost entirely led by the minister. The Bible was the Authorized Version, the hymnbook Ancient and Modern, and lay participation minimal.

Moreover, many Anglican Evangelicals felt themselves estranged from their parent Church. And indeed there were voices suggesting they should leave the denomination, or at least be less committed to it than to a wider evangelical fraternity.

In the face of all this, therefore, a National Evangelical Anglican Congress was convened at Keele University in 1967, to consider the future for Anglican Evangelicals.

This was a watershed, and determined the shape of the movement over the next three decades. The conference was not without its own internal difficulties. Nevertheless, the outcome was a clear and determined commitment to remain within the Church of England and to work positively with its structures. And in fact, in the next ten years, Anglican Evangelicalism flourished as the hard work of the previous two decades bore fruit.

Evangelical churches and para-church organizations continued to grow. Evangelical ordinands (all men at this stage and mostly in their twenties) represented an increasing proportion of the whole, and their colleges, especially St John’s Nottingham, were at the forefront of innovation in new styles of outreach and spiritual expression. Evangelical methods, such as the housegroup (which was still something of a novelty), gained in acceptability, and the future looked increasingly bright for Evangelicalism.

Meanwhile, the Charismatic Movement was developing from being virtually a ‘secret society’ in the sixties to mainstream in the mid-seventies, not least because of the ministry of David Watson at St Michael le Belfrey, York. Despite the theological divisions this had involved (the founder of the Fountain Trust, Michael Harper, who was then curate at All Soul’s Langham Place, left because of John Stott’s discomfort with his Charismatic leanings) it brought a much-needed freshness in music, liturgy and other expressions of church life.

The second NEAC, at Nottingham University in 1977, gave voice to all these influences and more. Evangelicalism, it seemed, had come of age — indeed, it was now a radical, cutting-edge, force to be reckoned with. NEAC 2 was attended by some 2,000 delegates. In preparation, no fewer than three books were published, each containing several essays on topics including not only the expected staples of evangelism and theology but economics, politics, international development and so on. At the end a joint statement was published which represented a new benchmark of evangelical orthodoxy, signalling an interest not just in traditional ‘spiritual’ matters, but the whole of life.

John Stott himself was at the forefront of encouraging a new understanding of Evangelicalism, where traditional evangelism and social engagement went hand-in-hand. But if controversy arose, he was always there to give a magisterial ‘ruling’ or admonition and to prevent disagreements leading into fragmentation.

So what went wrong? I must caution that what follows is a very personal reflection. Nevertheless, I would identify the following influences.

First, the Charismatic Movement created amongst evangelicals a secondary identity based on shared experience rather than theology. In the 1960s and 70s, “Do you think you are baptized in the Spirit?” was a live question in evangelical circles. And depending on which way you answered determined, to a large extent, where and with whom you felt most comfortable.

Thus in 1979, the first Spring Harvest took place, embracing theologically Charismatic styles and speakers, and the following year saw the beginnings of the New Wine network. Evangelicals who were also Charismatics now had somewhere to go for distinctive fellowship with their ‘own kind’.

Meanwhile, those Evangelicals who had most enthusiastically embraced ‘social action’ became increasingly caught up with that agenda and rather less committed to the theological style and message of traditional Evangelicalism.

In effect (though I think this suggestion would still be resisted by those who took this route) these Evangelicals became rather less committed to what an earlier generation would have recognized as evangelism. Certainly the definition given in Towards the Conversion of England would have been regarded by them as somewhat lacking.

But thirdly, Evangelicals generally were not well-equipped theologically. Indeed, in the more traditionalist circles, theology was regarded as being almost incompatible with, and certainly hardly necessary to, evangelical spirituality and ministry. One manifestation of this, for example, was that Evangelical ordinands from the big churches were encouraged to go to the Oxbridge theological colleges, not to study theology, but to engage in student ministry.

Many of the key Evangelical leaders at this stage had come through the system of Iwerne camps, started by E J Nash and ‘Bash’ was notoriously opposed to theological training and methodology. As a result, however, traditional evangelical preaching and teaching tended to be somewhat simplistic and was unable to address in depth the questions being posed about spirituality and society, both from within and without the movement.

By the mid 1980s, therefore, Anglican Evangelicalism was no longer enamoured with the traditions of just two decades earlier. When the third NEAC took place, at Caister in 1988, there was a new mood in the gathering and a new style on the platform. Even the name had been changed, from ‘Congress’ to ‘Celebration’.

This is what Colin Day, then executive officer of the Church of England Evangelical Council, wrote at the time:

... NEAC 3 ... is not a simple progression [from NEACs 1 and 2]. ‘Celebration’ reminds us that there is a new spirit of worship and confidence in the Christian world today.

Worship, always something which Anglicans have felt strongly about, is to assume a much more prominent place [...]. There will be worship in the evening Celebration and in a variety of optional morning groups. Fellowship in small groups will centre on Bible study resourced by Rev Dr John Stott ... in the morning [...].

There will be no Congress Statement. It isn’t that sort of event. The statement that will be made will be one written in the hearts and minds of those who attend, and who will return to church and community to be read by those among whom they live. It will be a bold attempt to extricate the gospel from cerebral captivity, without falling into the trap of anti-intellectualism, or worse that brand of spiritual sensuality which is increasingly common today. (‘NEAC 3: the celebration’, Third Way, June 1987, 6)

Even the list of key speakers is revealing with hindsight: Bishop Simon Barrington-Ward, Preb John Gladwin, later the Bishop of Chelmsford, Dr Christina Baxter, later principal of St John’s Nottingham, and Rev Dr Vinay Samuel, who at that time was chiefly known for his involvement in development work in the Third World.

Notice, though, the declared contrast between the past “cerebral captivity” of the gospel and the new “spirit of worship and confidence”. Evangelicalism had not merely ‘come of age’ but was moving on.

Many in the Evangelical Anglican constituency were therefore increasingly uncomfortable with the direction being taken by the movement, and in the mid-1980s, under the leadership of Dick Lucas, the Evangelical Ministry Assembly and the Proclamation Trust struck out in a different direction.

The Proclamation Trust aimed unashamedly, and in its own mind principally, at a recovery of preaching. Nevertheless, this inevitably entailed a recovery of theology, and so the speakers invited to address the EMA were often men of theological acumen as well as skilled communicators.

Notably, however, most of them came from abroad — it seemed that in the UK they were in short supply. Many were from America but some, and in the end the most influential, were from the Diocese of Sydney in Australia.

Two key English Evangelicals made some revealing comments about the impact of just one of these visitors, John Chapman, who then headed the Department of Evangelism in the Diocese of Sydney. First, Jonathan Fletcher speaking about ‘Chappo’s’ early influence:

We didn’t need to be encouraged in evangelism —we’ve always been flat out at that. We needed to be rescued for reformed theology.

And Dick Lucas similarly said,

When he first came to us he did a series on God and his sovereignty, and so on. I remember then being amazed at the theological nous of this man. After all, he’d come across to do evangelism and we weren’t used to travelling evangelists quite like this! (Chappo: For the Sake of the Gospel, p202)

Although these Australians sometimes gave the impression that Evangelicalism was just as much embattled in Sydney as elsewhere, nothing could have been further from the truth. Rather, in Sydney, Anglican structures and evangelical theology had reached a happy synthesis in a way far beyond the experience, or even the grasp, of most Englishmen.

The result of this synthesis, however, was to have increasingly influence on the English Evangelical Anglican scene, not least when David Peterson, previously on the staff at Moore College in Sydney, became principal of Oak Hill Theological College in 1996.

By that stage, Oak Hill was the most conservative of the theological colleges, but was in a seriously weakened position. Indeed in 1993 it had been threatened with closure by a Church commission which was seeking to reduce the number of theological colleges.

On the one hand, therefore, Peterson had to fight for Oak Hill’s survival. At the same time, however, and symptomatic of the attitude amongst conservative Evangelicals, he had to fight to get the big churches to send their ordinands to him for theological training, rather than to Oxford or Cambridge to do student work.

Since the mid-1980s, then, traditionalist Anglican Evangelicalism began its own revival. At the same time, however, other Evangelicals were moving in a direction consciously away from the traditionalist camp. The result was an increasing sense of division, which came to a head over the ordination of women to the priesthood in 1993. In response to this, one group of Evangelicals set up ‘Reform’, whose avowed aim was the conversion of England, but whose raison d’être was to bring together those who disagreed with the introduction of women priests.

Around this time, however, the term ‘Open Evangelical’ began to be used by those who wanted to distinguish themselves from the older, traditionalist, approach. In the current words of the website of Ridley Hall college, Cambridge, ‘open’ in this sense means being attentive to “the questions and the insights of” the world, recognizing “God’s work in other Christian traditions” and other countries, playing a “full part” within the Church of England and listening for God to say “new things through the Bible and His Spirit”.

In the place of the ‘Evangelicalism’ of the 1950s, therefore, we now had varieties and nuances of Evangelicalism.

In the years following 1993, however, the leadership of various Evangelical bodies — notably the Church of England Evangelical Council — began to fall into the hands of those now labelled as ‘Conservative’ Evangelicals. Partly this was the result of the latter being deliberately organized. Partly it was the result of other Evangelicals abandoning the old bodies and structures.

As a result, the fourth National Evangelical Anglican Congress, at Blackpool in 2003, was dominated by Conservatives at the planning stage. This, however, led to yet more acrimonious arguments and splits, culminating in the founding behind the scenes and launch at the Congress itself of ‘Fulcrum’, a body avowedly for Open Evangelicals and consciously opposed to the Conservatives. Since then, moreover, events at home and abroad have led to a multiplication of other groupings such as Anglican Mainstream, the Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans and, most recently, the Anglican Mission in England (AMiE).

Meanwhile, the Church of England itself continued the steady decline which had set in at the end of the 1960s. Outwardly, it was less overtly hostile to Evangelicals, and indeed numbers of them found preferment as Archdeacons, Cathedral Deans and even Bishops. However, the ethos of the institution remained a soft Liberal-Catholicism — middle-of-the-road in theology and fond of ecclesiastical drapery.

Moreover, the Evangelicals appointed to senior office tended to be those from the ‘Open’ end of the spectrum. Conservative Evangelicals, which now meant those opposed to the ordination of women, were much less appreciated, and it is notable that the last such Conservative Evangelical episcopal appointment was in 1997.

What, then, is the present situation and possible future for Evangelical Anglicanism generally?

Firstly, whereas in the 1950s Evangelicals were a readily-identified group, there is no longer any such thing as ‘mere evangelical’. Today, if you call yourself an Evangelical, people in the know will immediately ask, “What sort of Evangelical are you?”

Thus, secondly, Evangelical organizations in the Church of England face serious problems in trying to hold together diverse, and even mutually hostile, versions of Evangelicalism.

Thirdly, the more consciously conservative Evangelicals are increasingly uncertain of their place in the Church of England. This is not only because of their anxieties over women bishops but also because of their own growing emphasis on church planting, which is often resisted by the institution or by the parish in which a church plant takes place.

Fourthly, the younger generation of Evangelicals generally have a very tentative understanding of the Church of England. The more ‘open’ Evangelicals seem to have little experience of or feel for past tradition. The more ‘conservative’ seem to have little commitment to the institution. Both, one suspects, are hardly aware that the Church of England has such a thing as its own doctrine — not helped, I would suggest, by the cavalier attitude of the hierarchy and the casual indifference to these things on the part of many local clergy.

Fifthly, the Anglican Evangelical leaders of the fifties and sixties are dying out, and the next generation down — my own — has not thrown up any significant replacements. There is no one like John Stott to whom Evangelicals can look to hold them together and no one who seems able to tell them what to do. There is no sense of direction or coherence in terms of strategy.

Sixthly, society itself is increasingly hostile to Christian belief — certainly in its more conservative forms. And above all, the issue of homosexuality threatens not only to divide the Church even more but to exclude traditionalist Christians from full participation in society at many significant levels.

And yet — the Church of England is still viable. It still has thousands of minister and hundreds of thousands of members. Its parishes cover the entire nation and in some areas, particularly in the countryside, it is the only remaining visible Christian present.

It is worth fighting for! More than that, it could still be an instrument for ‘the conversion of England’. Our problem is not — at least not primarily — our structures. In many parts of the world, such as Australia or Sub-Saharan Africa, the same structures are enabling Church growth and driving forward evangelism.

Our problem is, as much as anything, a problem of leadership — local and national. And the need to address this is not so that Evangelicalism may thrive but so that people — locally and nationally — will hear the gospel.

In 1945 the Church of England acknowledged this challenge:

In England the Church has to present the Christian Gospel to multitudes in every section of society who believe in nothing; who have lost a whole dimension (the spiritual dimension) of life; and for whom life has no ultimate meaning. [...] But the Church is ill-equipped for its unparalleled task and opportunity. The laity complain of a lack of creative leadership among all ranks of the clergy. The spiritual resources of the worshipping community are at a low ebb. Above all, the Church has become confused and uncertain in the proclamation of its message, and its life has ceased to reflect clearly the truth of the Gospel. It is for the Church, in this day of God, by a rededication of itself to its Lord, to receive from Him that baptism of Holy Ghost and of fire which will empower it to sound the call and give the awaited lead. (Para 33)

The fact that this could have been written yesterday represents the tragedy of the last 66 years, when the Church of England has focussed its energies on almost anything except this task. But whilst we can rightly recognized the failure of the Church, we must also acknowledge the failure of Evangelicals, of all people, to hold the Church to its true calling.

It is not enough to say that Evangelicalism has improved its position in the institution — least of all when Evangelicals are so divided amongst themselves. The truth is that well-placed Evangelicals have not deliberately and strategically used their influence to equip the Church as a whole for the particular task of evangelism which might lead to ‘the conversion of England’.

Nor is it enough to hope that Evangelicals will somehow and vaguely influence the Church towards somehow and unconsciously converting the nation, without confronting the uncertainties about its message and the inadequacies in its manner of life recognized as already existing in the 1940s.

Evangelicals ought to be at the forefront of evangelism. It is only a ministry which seeks conversions that deserves the label ‘evangelical’. But they ought also to be aiming at nothing less than making the Church of England itself ‘evangelical’. If we are content to thrive in our small corner whilst the national Church remains indifferent to the task of evangelism, we truly care neither for our own beliefs nor for the people of our nation as a whole. In the words of Christ to the Church at Sardis, it is time to “Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die” (Rev 3:2).

And yet we must ask, “Who is sufficient for these things?” (2 Cor 2:16). The Keele generation was absorbed by the institution. The Nottingham generation was defeated by the dilution of its own theology. The Caister generation is probably still in a worship session somewhere. And the Blackpool generation was split by factions. It would be surprising if the next generation faired any better. But the Lord’s promise is to the one who has an ear and to the one who overcomes.

Let us then endeavour, now and in the coming months, to listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches.

John Richardson 

11 July 2011

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Some notes on Anglican ordination, gender and ministry

The background — Nottingham and the NT

We begin with history — in 1977 Resolution J6 of the Nottingham Statement, produced at the second National Evangelical Anglican Congress, stated,

We repent of our failure to give women their rightful place as partners in mission with men. Leadership in the Church should be plural and mixed, ultimate responsibility normally singular and male.

‘Plural and mixed’ is certainly the pattern of ministry we find in the New Testament churches — to give one example, Romans 16 names several women ministers.

In the 1970s, however, shared ministry was a fairly novel concept in the Church of England. ‘House groups’ were a revolutionary idea as was the phrase ‘every member ministry’. In 1977, these proposals were radical regarding plurality of leadership, but fundamentally traditional regarding gender and leadership.

Since then, we have ‘moved on’ regarding the issue of gender, and both Anglicanism and evangelicalism have become deeply divided – as exemplified by Lis Goddard and Clare Hendry in their joint book The Gender Agenda (Nottingham: IVP, 2010).

This illustrates how two people can both believe they are being faithful to Scripture and come to practically incompatible conclusions. It is also a reminder of the theological principle formulated by Dire Straits: “two men say they’re Jesus, one of them must be wrong” (or both of them). Furthermore it shows that there is still a debate to be had, even so many years on from 1993.

Personally, I think there are weaknesses in the arguments advanced both by Goddard and Hendry. Nevertheless, I am still unpersuaded overall that the outcome advocated by Goddard, which would introduce women as Anglican incumbents and now bishops, actually takes us in a direction more compatible with Scripture than what was expressed in the Nottingham Statement.

An historic struggle

Historically, the Church of England, like all the mainstream churches, has struggled to resolve its structures of ministry with its doctrine of the ministry.

Our structures are post-apostolic. The preface to the Ordinal in the BCP is very careful:

It is evident unto all men diligently reading holy Scripture and ancient Authors, that from the Apostles’ time there have been these Orders of Ministers in Christ’s Church; Bishops, Priests, and Deacons.

NB, it says “these Orders”, not “three Orders”. There are ‘these orders’, but it is evident to anyone diligently reading holy Scripture that they are by no means the same as we have today.

The NT has deacons, but they are not ‘probationary priests’. Rather, they are an office in themselves, and almost certainly it was an office open to both men and women (cf Rom 16:1).

The NT has presbyters, but they are not to be confused with the ‘priests’ of the OT — which of course is easily done when you use the same word for both — and there is more than one per congregation.

And the local bishops of the NT are one and the same thing as the local presbyters.

Roger Beckwith in his Elders in Every City shows that the formal pattern of ministry was probably based on the synagogue model, meaning that the presbyter-bishops would have been responsible for running and governing the community and in some cases, though not all, for teaching.

But even this leadership would have been mixed, and it is clear that the ministry at least was ‘plural’ to use the NEAC phrase.

Our problem is that we are trying to fit NT principles to a context that in many respects is not like the NT.

Ministry: ‘charismatic’ or ‘pragmatic’

And there is another difference between then and now. Then, the principle for selection was ‘pragmatic meritocracy’, exemplified by Romans 12:3-8:

For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. ⁴ Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, ⁵ so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. ⁶ We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man’s gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. ⁷ If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; ⁸ if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.

What you should do in the church was assessed ‘on merit’. The person gifted in serving should serve, the gifted teacher should teach, etc.

Hence Titus (1:5-9), when he is left in Crete to appoint ‘elders in every city’, is given a list of outward, observable qualities to look for in those he should appoint.

That, however, gave way to what I would call a ‘charismatic aristocracy’ model which prevails to this day. The ministry is something to which you are called by God, and for which you are empowered from without — usually attributed to the gifting of the Holy Spirit through the laying on of hands.

In our context, however, this may not reflect the practicalities to which Scripture refers.

Where this matters in the gender debate is that people are given an authority by ordination which may well not correspond to the realities of relationships established on other grounds recognized by Scripture.

Liberty and restraint

In some important ways, the NT presents an egalitarian and easy-going model of male-female relationships.

We have seen that women were heavily involved in the ministry. We also see a liberty in the way that men and women are called to relate to one another. In 1 Tim 5:1, Paul writes,

Do not rebuke an older man harshly, but exhort him as if he were your father. Treat younger men as brothers, ² older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity. (1 Ti 5:1-2)

In the family, gender differences call for modesty, but not for separation. There is no uneasiness about the genders mixing, nor is there a suspicion of women generally.

This even carries over into the area of ministry. In Acts 18 we read about Priscilla and Aquila in their encounter with Apollos. Apollos, we are told,

... began to speak boldly in the synagogue. When Priscilla and Aquila heard him, they invited him to their home and explained to him the way of God more adequately. (18:24-26)

Notice that apparently both Priscilla and Aquila are involved in teaching Apollos.

Yet elsewhere in the NT there are some evident restraints on the rôle of women. 1 Tim 2:12:

I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet. (1 Ti 2:12)

Also 1 Cor 14:34-35,

... women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says. ³⁵ If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church. (1 Co 14:34-35)

How can we have both? Context is king.

A bi-polar community

In the NT, the Church is a bi-polar community, in the same way that society generally was bi-polar. There was the community of the whole, gathered, body and there was the community of the household.

And the household was fundamental not just socially but theologically.

Parenthood is conceived of as being derived from the character of God himself — within the godhead there is a ‘Father-Son’ relationship, but this also extends to ourselves. We call God ‘Abba’, and we are his children by adoption.

The fifth commandment, “Honour your father and your mother”, therefore has an abiding relevance. In Ephesians 6:1-3 Paul writes,

Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. ² “Honour your father and mother” — which is the first commandment with a promise — ³ “that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” (Eph 6:1-3)

The family was a community within which the faith was lived and taught. So Paul continues in Eph 6:4,

Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord. (Eph 6:4)

This would be the pattern of Jewish families but was also found more generally. The church — or for other purposes, the school — could be a place for instruction. But this was balanced by the home where the children learned the essentials of life and faith from their parents.

Husbands, wives and bishops

The life of the household, however, is focused on the special relationship between husbands and wives. Thus, going back to Eph 5:21-2, we read that we are to be,

... submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ. ²² Wives, [submitting] to your husbands as to the Lord. ²³ For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Saviour.

And this, really, is the crux of the modern debate.

The egalitarian lobby places the emphasis on v 21: “submitting to one another”. In practice, it argues, the submission of husband to wife is no different from the submission of the wife to the husband.

Howard Marshall takes this line in Discovering Biblical Equality (Leicester: InterVarsity Press, 2005). For Marshall, marriage is due to go the same way as slavery. We don’t have slaves submitting to masters, and we won’t have wives submitting to husbands.

Of course, it could be argued that whilst we have abolished slavery, we have not abolished marriage or families. Moreover, given that we still have employers and employees, it could be said that what we have today is the reformation of a relationship, not its abolition.

Nevertheless, the trouble is, especially in the present Anglican context, whilst there is pressure to move away from the biblical model of marriage, there is no corresponding pressure to reform the unbiblical model of ministry.

On the contrary, one of the crucial arguments against the various proposals for alternative provision for those opposed to women bishops is that if a woman bishop’s authority is in any sense diminished then she is ‘not a real bishop’. Submission to her authority in the hierarchy is seen as of the essence, even while submission in the home is being denied.

Of course it could be said if we allow hierarchy in the marriage, why not in the Church? And in fact the NT does encourage us to submit to church leaders (13:17).

But it is difficult to see how we can argue against the Ephesians model of marriage because it is inherently hierarchical (as Marshall does) and at the same time argue for an inherently hierarchical understanding of episcopacy.

Either we have both (if that is what the NT teaches), or we have neither.

Steering a path

The present debate is not straightforward. However, we are in danger of making a difficult situation worse and making things even more imbalanced than they are already.

The home is already weakened as a place of spiritual nurture and is in danger of being made worse.

The question to ask ourselves is this: if we followed the NT pattern of the household and the family, what sort of leadership would emerge in the congregation? And in particular, how would the rôles of men and women in the congregation reflect the pattern of family life?

Theologically, the concerns of the NT arguably focus on preserving the right relationships in the household.

David Broughton-Knox in one of his essays writes,

It would be anomalous if when Christian families come together in the larger grounds of the Christian congregation, heads of homes were subject to the rule of those who, at home, would be under their headship.

I think that is a very good governing principle, though it poses immense challenges to us regarding the home and household.

However, Knox adds a couple of interesting riders:

But apart from this easily understood restriction [in the congregation] which arises from the position in which God the creator has placed men and women with regard to one another in the family setting, the ministry of women is as wide as is that of men, and is largely identical with that of men, because apart from the different endowments and functions which the distinction of sex involves, the abilities of men and women are similar and their opportunities are similar.

And then he goes on:

In the modern organization of the ministry the ordained minister does many things besides that of exercising the dominion of Christ in the full congregation through teaching his word. In fact, some ministers hardly exercise this ministry at all. All these modern ministries are as open to women as to men and there is no point in making artificial distinctions between the same God-given ministry by different places to stand when speaking or different clothes to wear.

And he concludes:

The New Testament does not consider the anomaly when Christian men are incompetent, ill-prepared or unwilling to discharge the teaching ministry. In this anomalous situation it may well be that what is normal must give place to what is beneficial. (D Knox, Church and Ministry, Selected Works [Kingsford NSW: Matthias Media, 2003] 244-5)

The challenge for us is twofold — first, not to do anything in the congregation which would contradict the teaching of the NT about husbands and wives and households and families.

Secondly, to begin to do in our households and families what the NT clearly expects by way of the exercise of responsibility.

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Is this Anglican Evangelicalism?

I know it's an old chestnut, but it has come up again in another context, and — perhaps precisely because it is such a chestnut — it is worth trying to get it right. This is therefore the 'definition so far', with a special emphasis on Anglican evangelicalism. Comments are invited in the spirit of clarification.

Evangelicalism has at heart the proclamation to all:

1. That the fundamental problem with the world is the sin that separates us from God.

2. That sinners are personally under God's wrath and face Christ's judgement (Rev 6:15-17).

3. That out of God's great love, Christ died to reconcile us to God and God to us (Article II).

4. That sin is dealt with entirely, and only, by the death of Christ on the cross, whereby he bore the punishment for our sins (Isa 53:6) and overcame the powers of evil, delivering us from wrath and preparing us for the coming Kingdom.

5. That a right relationship with God (salvation) is found only, but entirely and immediately, through faithful trust in his word to us that [we are] sinners are reconciled to God by the death of his Son.

6. That ultimately all the blessings of God, and in the first instance his Holy Spirit (Gal 3:14), are given to those who, believing this gospel message, are born again.

7. That Scripture is the vehicle in which God's word of the gospel is presented and preserved, and through which it is proclaimed as God's living word to every generation (1 Cor 15:3,4; Gal 3:8; 1 Tim 4:13, cf also, for Anglicans, the Prayer Book Ordinal admonition to those about to be ordained priest).

As an Anglican, I would also want to add that baptism is the tangible sign of these truths and of God's promises, so that those who believe ought to receive baptism, in obedience to Christ, as an outward assurance of the gospel, and those who are baptized ought to believe what the sign of baptism displays to them (Article XXVII).

NB this is NOT intended to be a complete definition of Christianity, but rather of those understandings and emphases that mark out evangelical Christianity. (It is quite another debate whether other forms of 'Christianity' are thereby true or false.)

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Cross Post to Benny Hazelhurst's Blog: Church, Tradition and the Bride of Christ

Benny Hazelhurst, of Accepting Evangelicals, has posted a reply to my comments on his article in the Church of England Newspaper. My own response has gone to the CEN for publication and may appear there (and here) at the end of the week. Meanwhile, you can read his reply and follow the reaction here.

He concludes,

The fact that the Church comprises both men and women and that this (according to John Richardson) is the ultimate paradigm for marriage, suggests that marriage is indeed 'genderless' - it has just taken the church a long time to realise it (like the abolition of slavery and the movement of the sun).

No-one, of course would suggest that there is a literal 'sexual' component to the marriage of Christ and his Church, but that further calls into question relying on this paradigm for our full understanding of marriage.  Indeed Paul says in Ephesians 5 that "this is a profound mystery".  It is a mystery which we are still unravelling, and perhaps we haven't quite got there yet.

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Ten (not really very good) Reasons Why the Proposed Anglican Covenant is a Bad Idea

Lacking anything more useful to do, I’ve been looking through the ‘Ten Reasons Why the Proposed Anglican Covenant Is a Bad Idea’ posted on the Comprehensive Unity blog.

Why bother? Because, if it is to stand any chance of success, the Covenant process needs clarity of thought. Looking through the Ten Reasons, however, one finds confusion and, indeed, a certain lack of logic.

Reason 1, for example, begins by stating that,

The proposed Anglican Covenant would transform a vibrant, cooperative, fellowship of churches into a contentious, centralized aggregation of churches designed to reduce diversity and initiative.

Every time I read this — and there have been several — I wonder how anyone could describe the present Communion as “a vibrant, cooperative, fellowship”. I honestly can’t see that. And apparently neither can whoever wrote this document, since under Reason 9 we read,

The proposed Anglican Covenant .... is advanced in an atmosphere of anger, fear, and distrust ...

So which is it? The answer would seem to be that it depends on what point you’re trying to make: one here against the Covenant or one later against Covenant advocates.

Reason 2, meanwhile, rests on a massive ‘beg the question’:

Under the Covenant, churches will be inhibited from undertaking new evangelical or mission initiatives for fear of offending other Communion churches and becoming embroiled in the disciplinary mechanisms set up by the Covenant.

Of course, it could be said one region’s ‘evangelical initiative’ is another’s departure from the ‘evangel’ itself, but isn’t that the whole issue the Covenant is set up to address?

Reason 3 is an assertion based, apparently, on special pleading regarding a particular understanding of management:

In an era in which power and authority are being distributed in many organizations in order to achieve greater efficiency, responsiveness, and accountability, what has been proposed for the Communion seems out of step with current thinking regarding large organizations.

This sounds fine, but if authority is ‘distributed’, could a diocese not depart from its province? This is not what one is hearing advocated currently in TEC. The point may (or may not) be valid, but its application needs to be more tightly defined.

Reason 4 is another of those statements which makes one wonder if one has not been living in a parallel ‘Communion universe’ for the past decade:

[The Covenant’s] immediate effect is to create divisions.

Like there aren’t any at the moment? The point continues:

Churches that cannot or will not adopt the Covenant automatically become second-class members of the Communion.

Well, yes, but won’t that be because of those divisions which have brought about the need for the Covenant in the first place?

Reason 5 might actually have some substance:

The proposed Covenant is dangerously vague.

Surely, however, another possible response, rather than rejecting the Covenant, is to suggest ways to tighten up the vague bits? The challenge may be valid, but the solution does not automatically follow.

Reason 6 is just piece of theological silliness, relying on a blatant tu quoque argument:

The proposed Covenant runs counter to the gospel imperative of not judging others. It is all too easy for Communion churches to complain about the sins of their sister churches while ignoring or diverting attention from their own failures to live out the Gospel.

If churches within the Communion are truly failing to live out the Gospel, the answer is not to let everyone else do it as well!

Reason 7 relies on another special pleading which has run throughout this whole dispute:

The proposed Covenant encourages premature ending of debate.

What we know, of course, is that the only ending of the debate which will not be rejected as ‘premature’ by those who want to keep it going is an acceptance of homosexual practice. This is actually made clear in what follows:

[The Communion] has too quickly concluded that “homosexual practice” is “incompatible with Scripture” and that adopting the Covenant is “the only way forward,” neither of which is either intuitively obvious or universally agreed upon.

Fine — but do those opposing the Covenant in this way really accept that it could, after debate, be universally agreed upon? If not, let them be honest and say so.

Reason 8 seems invoke phrasing from the Windsor Report of 2004, where it was envisaged that the Covenant would “make explicit and forceful the loyalty and bonds of affection” holding together the Communion. However, it turns on a re-interpretation of ‘forceful’ to mean ‘using force and coercion’, which is not at all the same thing;

The notion that we need to make “forceful” the “bonds of affection” is fundamentally flawed. If we need force and coercion to maintain relationships between Communion churches, there is no true affection, and the very foundation of the proposed Covenant is fraudulent.

Reason 9 again relies on giving a particular word a desired ‘spin’:

The proposed “Covenant” seems more like a treaty, contract, or instrument of surrender than a covenant. In the ecclesiastical context, a covenant is usually thought of as an agreement undertaken in joy and in an atmosphere of trust—baptismal and marriage covenants come to mind.

One is tempted to point to the example of Suzerainty Treaties, which had parallels with the biblical Covenant between God and Israel. These were not exactly ‘undertaken in joy and an atmosphere of trust’. More importantly, however, it is the existing lack of joy and trust which has brought about the need for the Covenant — and which, as has already been observed, point 9 actually recognizes:

The proposed Anglican Covenant .... is advanced in an atmosphere of anger, fear, and distrust, and with the threat of dire consequences if it is not adopted.

That is regrettable, but not having a Covenant is not going to change matters.

And finally Reason 10 reveals the objections themselves to be somewhat disingenuous:

The Anglican Communion would be better served by remaining a single-tier fellowship of churches, allowing disaffected members to leave if they must ...

So in fact the objection to the Covenant is not that some Anglicans will “become second-class members of the Communion” (Reason 4). Indeed the idea of ‘business as usual’ causing some people to leave the Communion is regarded as entirely acceptable — so long as it is the ‘right’ people who leave (those who are “threatening to walk away”).

Thus, ultimately, what the objectors to the Covenant want is exactly what those in favour of the Covenant also clearly want: a Communion to their own liking.

And there is nothing wrong with wanting that. But if even those objecting to the Covenant don’t seem to recognize the truth of their own position, what hope is there for real dialogue and real understanding?

John Richardson
18 December 2010

PS: Sitting here a day later, I'm actually quite sorry to have had to write this piece No one really likes criticism and no one should enjoy dishing it out. But I couldn't look at these ten 'reasons' without reacting to the perception that they lack, well, 'reason'. Illogicality and self-contradiction is something to be avoided, whatever the field you're writing in. If the author can go back and come up with some alternatives, maybe I'd think again.

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It's Anglicanism, Jim, but not as we know it

Disappointed by the cricket (for a change), I took a look at the Thinking Anglicans website, where there is a piece from an anti-Covenant blog on "Ten Reasons Why the Proposed Anglican Covenant is a Bad Idea".

Now as I said before, the point where groupings like Thinking Anglicans start saying the Covenant is a bad idea is the point at which I start thinking it might not be that bad after all.

However, I was very struck by the first of the ten reasons:

The proposed Anglican Covenant would transform a vibrant, cooperative, fellowship of churches into a contentious, centralized aggregation of churches designed to reduce diversity and initiative.

A "vibrant, cooperative, fellowship of churches"? Lacking contention and centralization?

Its Anglicanism, Jim, but not as we know it.

John Richardson

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Death , Liberalism and ‘Resting in Peace’

I couldn’t help noticing, following the announcement of the death of the Very Reverend Colin Slee, the former Dean of Southwark Cathedral, that a number of people greeted this news with the comment, “May he rest in peace and rise in glory.”

Even the Southwark Cathedral website had the same line, following the initial notice of the Dean’s death.

Some, at least, of these individuals would be of the same Liberal persuasion held, without any embarrassment to call it such, by Colin Slee himself. But I can’t help finding this somewhat curious.

I don’t think it is wrong to describe the sentiment it expresses as a prayer for the dead. Not wishing to misunderstand or misrepresent what it means, I did a quick trawl around the internet (as one does), where I found the Wikipedia website giving the following explanation:

“Rest in peace” (Latin: Requiescat in pace) is a short epitaph or idiomatic expression wishing eternal rest and peace to someone who has died. ... The phrase or acronym [RIP] is ... derived from the burial service of the Roman Catholic church, in which the following prayer was said at the commencement and conclusion:

“Anima eius et animae omnium fidelium defunctorum per Dei misericordiam requiescant in pace.”

In English, it is rendered as

“May his soul and the souls of all the departed faithful by God’s mercy rest in peace.”

Fair enough. And I also found the phrase in full on a website referring to how the Guild of All Souls was founded on 15 March 1873,

to provide furniture for Burial according to the use of the Catholic Church so as to set forth the two great doctrines of the Communion of Saints and the Resurrection of the Body; and Intercessory prayer for the Dying and for the repose of the souls of the deceased members and all the faithful departed.

The founders of the Guild were members of the Church of England, but clearly the doctrines they sought to reinstate were not those current in that Church at that time.

Now, of course, one cannot raise such issues without touching on the difficulties currently facing the Church of England in general and the Anglo-Catholic movement within it in particular. Nevertheless, it is surely beyond dispute that at the Reformation the Church of England officially repudiated precisely the understanding of death and the hereafter that the phrase “May he rest in peace” presumes.

Here is the Homily on Prayer (with the spelling tidied up):

Now to entreat of that question, whether we ought to pray for them that are departed out of this world, or no. Wherein, if we will cleave only unto the word of GOD, then must we needs grant, that we have no commandment so to do. For the Scripture doth acknowledge but two places after this life. The one proper to the elect and blessed of GOD; the other to the reprobate and damned souls ...

And if this might seem to leave a loophole (on the ground that there is perhaps no commandment of Scripture not to pray for the dead), the Homily continues, after giving some biblical examples to the contrary,

... neither let us dream any more, that the souls of the dead are any thing at all holpen by our prayers: But as the Scripture teacheth us, let us think that the soul of man passing out of the body, goeth straight ways either to heaven, or else to hell, whereof the one needeth no prayer, and the other is without redemption.

The point, however, is not simply that the dead cannot be helped by our prayers, but that, as regards those who have died in Christ, they need no help from from our prayers. Opposition to prayers for the dead stems not from a mean-spirited desire to withhold possible aid from those who need it, but from a sure and certain confidence in the gospel. As the homily puts it, in typically vigorous terms:

He that cannot be saved by faith in Christ’s blood, how shall he look to be delivered by man’s intercessions? Hath GOD more respect to man on earth, then he hath to Christ in heaven? If any man sin (saith Saint John) we have an advocate with the Father, even Jesus Christ the righteous, and he is the propitiation for our sins (1 John 2.1).

Amen, I say, to that! But this is where I find the Liberal predilection for “May he rest in peace” so odd.

Historically, it is (to say the least) in tension with the formal Anglican position, expressed not only in the Homilies but in the Thirty-nine Articles (specifically, Article XXII, ‘Of Purgatory’).

Yet this style of prayer often accompanies a very ‘high’ view of ministry and sacrament which makes the Protestant Evangelical Anglican heritage seem positively ‘rationalist’ in its application of Christian doctrine to present living.

At the same time, moreover, it seems to lean ‘Romeward’ in its understanding of faith and doctrine at a time when Rome is hardly the doctrinal and moral ‘flavour of the month’ amongst liberals with a small ‘l’.

Most curiously though, it seems to presume that the dead in Christ still need our help — which would suggest, therefore, some uncertainty either in their standing with God, or (indeed) with God’s attitude towards them.

Perhaps I am wrong in assuming that Liberals (with a capital ‘L’) reject the notion that God does not welcome one and all after their decease. Do they, after all, believe that there is “no peace unto the wicked”? Or is there some other factor of which I am unaware to take into consideration?

However, as an Evangelical (and indeed, an Evangelical of precisely the stripe Colin Slee himself disliked so much), I would rather pray concerning the dead with the words we find in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer Order for Holy Communion:

And we also bless thy holy Name for all thy servants departed this life in thy faith and fear; beseeching thee to give us grace so to follow their good examples, that with them we may be partakers of thy heavenly kingdom ...

Of course, regarding the individual there may be room for circumspection. The 1662 Order for the Burial of the Dead certainly leaves some leeway when it prays,

We meekly beseech thee, O Father, to raise us from the death of sin unto the life of righteousness; that, when we shall depart this life, we may rest in him, as our hope is this our brother doth ...

On the one hand, ‘hope’ here is undoubtedly meant as the ‘sure and certain hope’ of the resurrection expressed at the committal. On the other hand, there have equally undoubtedly been ‘brothers’ about whom these words were said where the audience would have reason to see this as a generous presumption, to say the least.

Nevertheless, the one thing these words leave no room for is doubt that the dead in Christ actually do rest in him — no ‘ifs, buts or maybes’.

May he rest in peace? He either does not, or he does. Let us be bold enough, whether for Dean Slee or anyone else, to trust the gospel!

John Richardson
27 November 2010

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When Evangelicals were united

In amongst researching something else today, I came across an online copy of Third Way from 1979.

The past is indeed another country, as they say. Thus several of the articles and many of the letters in the correspondence columns were taken up with the issue of trade unions, strikes and wage claims.

In an even more unfamiliar twist, the Nationwide Festival of Light was holding an evening rally at All Souls, Langham Place, looking at “What does the Bible say to the International Year of the Child?” (speakers Harry Sutton, Eddie Stride, Raymond Johnston and Bob Holman).

There is also an article by one John Gladwin (with a very fetching ’70s haircut) questioning the morality of granting an 8.8% pay rise to workers in the public sector — on the basis that it is possibly too small, not too big!

In another article, Tam Dalyell, Labour MP for West Lothian, writes of the forthcoming devolution vote: “We in the Labour Vote No Campaign contend that the proposal for a ‘Yes’ vote for the Scotland Act comes four-square in the category of false prophecy.”

What most strikes me, however, is the co-existence of ‘liberal’ and ‘conservative’ evangelical strands alongside one another. Of course, the emphasis is on politics and social action, but that was Third Way’s subject-matter. But the theological discourse is conducted in a language which the Evangelical constituency held in common.

The same search also took me to Randle Manwaring’s From Controversy to Coexistence: Evangelicals in the Church of England, 1914-1980, written in 1985, when the Evangelical constituency was still just about holding together, and Manwaring could write of “the decay of the old liberalism”.

If I am being nostalgic, I would argue that is not necessarily a bad thing. The Church of England prays constantly that we may be ‘united in the truth’. Perhaps back then we were also united in our ignorance. We knew next to nothing about the ‘new perspective’ on Paul, or that we could divide over our views on women’s ordination. On the contrary, the Nottingham Statement had declared as ‘the’ Evangelical Anglican position that,

Leadership in the church should be plural and mixed, ultimate responsibility normally singular and male.

Were we wrong on other matters as well as this? Obviously, many Evangelicals today would say ‘yes’. Yet I think my question to the constituency would be whether the gospel as we are preaching it today is the gospel as it was preached by the generation that produced the evangelical leaders of the ’70s and ’80s — many of whom were converted through the Billy Graham crusades at Harringay and Wembley. Manwaring writes,

... there can be little doubt that the work of Billy Graham had lasting effects throughout Anglicanism, its benefits by far outweighing its disadvantages. (112)

To put it another way, would the ‘you’ you are today be interested in, and capable of, being instrumental in the conversion experienced by the ‘you’ you were when you became a Christian? I very much hope the answer is yes, but I very much fear that the answer for my own generation is often no.

Certainly the ‘new perspective’ is much more important in this regard than women’s ordination, on which even relative conservatives take different views. But I hazard a guess that our disunity in other areas reflects our confusion at a more fundamental level. The shared good news that God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son to die for our sins, so that whosever trusts in him should not be judged eternally by that same God, but have eternal life, seems to have given way in some areas to the assertion that ‘God loves and therefore anything which seems to be ‘loving’ is of God’.

Of course God loves, but as Don Carson has pointed out, the love of God is a difficult doctrine to handle correctly. I must agree with him when he says,

I do not think that what the Bible says about the love of God can long survive at the forefront of our thinking if it is abstracted from the sovereignty of God, the holiness of God, the wrath of God, the providence of God, or the personhood of God—to mention only a few nonnegotiable elements of basic Christianity.

Evangelicals can, in the end, be united only by the evangel — the gospel they proclaim. And that gospel itself depends on who the God is revealed in Christ. Carson quotes Marsha G Witten:

The relatively weak notion of God’s fearsome capabilities regarding judgment is underscored by an almost complete lack of discursive construction of anxiety around one’s future state.

 Our generation of Evangelicals is indeed anxious about many things, and urges that anxiety — along with the possible palliatives — on others. But there is little anxiety about eternity. And that may be our downfall.

John Richardson
18 July 2010

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Anglican Orthodoxy: the ‘Top Five’ questions?

In the light of recent developments, and further to my own suggestions on this blog, I have been wondering how one might reasonably and responsibly examine the orthodoxy of Anglican ministers or candidates for ministry.

In the spirit of the lists compiled by Rob Fleming, the hero of Nick Hornsby’s High Fidelity, I have come up with my ‘top five’ issues, all taken from the Thirty-nine Articles.

This is a completely serious suggestion, by the way. When our Benefice was recently interviewing for a new vicar, although I was (rightly) not allowed a vote in the final decision, I was allowed to question the candidates and to give my reflections. Amongst other things, therefore, I asked each of them for their take on Article VII, ‘Of the Old Testament’.

Rather than looking for ‘yes or no’ answers (“Do you believe in the resurrection?”, “Duh, yeah!”), it is better to allow people to show their ability in handling theological issues, so I would give an opportunity to respond to a statement, not simply to say whether they agreed with it or not. It is also important to have a limited list, and therefore it is impossible to cover every topic.

Nevertheless, I offer the following as Anglican statements of doctrine with which it would be perfectly reasonable to expect Anglican ministers to show some familiarity and conformity. You may wish to suggest alternatives. The only requirement is that if you add one in you must take one out.

So here are my ‘Top Five’ questions to establish Anglican orthodoxy. Try them yourself, or try them on your vicar (or bishop!).

Give your response to the following statements (adapted from the 39 Articles):

1.         “Christ ... truly suffered, was crucified, dead and buried, to reconcile his Father to us, and to be a sacrifice, not only for original guilt, but also for all actual sins of people.”

2.         “Original Sin ... is the fault and corruption of the Nature of every man ... whereby man is very far gone from original righteousness, and is of his own nature inclined to evil ... and therefore in every person born into this world, it deserveth God’s wrath and damnation.”

3.         “We are accounted righteous before God, only for the merit of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ by Faith, and not for our own works or deservings: Wherefore, that we are justified by Faith only is a most wholesome Doctrine.”

4.         “Holy Scripture doth set out to us only the Name of Jesus Christ, whereby men must be saved.”

5.         “It is not lawful for the Church to ordain any thing that is contrary to God’s Word written, neither may it so expound one place of Scripture, that it be repugnant to another.”

What one would be looking for in the answers would be, amongst other things, an absence of ‘nuancing’. The Declaration attached to the Articles in the Book of Common Prayer says that,

... no man hereafter shall either print, or preach, to draw the Article aside any way, but shall submit to it in the plain and full meaning thereof: and shall not put his own sense or comment to the meaning of the Article, but shall take it in the literal and grammatical sense.

Obviously they were wise to people ‘hedging’ their responses even in those days!

The more, therefore, someone’s answers show that they are, as we now say, ‘comfortable’ with the Article, the more we can be similarly ‘comfortable’ with them — and, I suggest, vice versa.

 John Richardson
13 July 2010

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