Christians and Culture: Lessons for Americans and Anglicans

Some time ago, for reasons I’ve now forgotten, I made a note to read James Davison Hunter’s To Change the World: The Irony, Tragedy, and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010). A couple of weeks ago, I finally got round to finishing it, and in view of recent election results in the United States and the Church of England, I’m very glad that I did. However, I think that Christians in both regions are going to find his lessons hard to accept and apply.

Hunter writes as an American addressing the American religious scene. Nevertheless, his conclusions can, I think, be generalized to non-American, and even non-religious, settings.

His core thesis is that the American religious right, religious left and religious radicals are all making the same basic error, and taking the same fundamental approach to changing the world, by buying into the political system.

Yet immediately we must pause for the British audience. ‘What’s this,’ they will be asking, ‘About the “religious left”? Surely there is hardly any such thing, and if there is, it must be a tiny minority.’

But that is the problem with gathering all your information from the British media, who generally loathe right-wing politics and Christian religion with comparable vehemence and are therefore more than happy to lump the two together.

Of course there is an American religious right, but there is also, Hunter points out, a religious left. And in fact the history of the involvement of the religious left in American politics is actually older than that of the religious right. It is only comparatively recently that conservative churches have taken up the political cudgels. And whilst they have had some success, that is now being offset by a resurgence on the left.

One feature of this, incidentally, is the way that the Democratic Party has now realized it can no longer afford to ignore religion — something which apparently it tended to do in the post-war years. Thus President Obama has to have religious credentials, in order to capitalize on the support of the religious left-wing.

Similarly unknown to most British observers, however, is the American religious radical wing — what Hunter calls the neo-Anabaptists. The movement will nevertheless be known to some through theologians such a John H Yoder and Stanley Hauerwas.

Each of these three groupings is very different from the others. Yet in Hunter’s view they are actually variations on a theme — and a wrong one, to boot. Added to this is the irony that each believes itself to be the ‘authentic’ Christian voice not only in its own right, but over against at least one, if not both of the other two ‘false’ voices.

Moreover, each relies on a view of reality which differs from the others and, naturally, reinforces its own ‘narrative’. And yet each has actually bought into a narrative driven by forces and assumptions which have little to do with the faith in question.

Thus the right sees America as threatened by secularism, the left sees it as threatened by capitalism and the radical wing sees political powers themselves as the real enemy. So the right joins forces with right-wing politicians against the left and the left joins forces with left-wing politicians against the right. Meanwhile, the radicals simultaneously condemn politicians but present an agenda based on the ‘politics’ of Jesus — whilst saying some truly remarkably unpleasant things about other Christians.

And while all this is going on, Hunter observes that what really forms the ‘culture’ itself is largely unrecognized and ignored.

Thus at the beginning of the book, Hunter addresses the popular myth of many Christian cultural warriors, that if we can only get enough people converted and get enough people involved in the political system, we can change the culture. But as he points out, the level of religious belief amongst Americans is already high (staggeringly so by European standards). Faith in God is everywhere as is scepticism about ‘secular’ understandings of the universe. If sheer numbers were all that were necessary, the Christian cultural agenda would have succeeded long ago.

But as Hunter goes on to show, that is not how cultures are formed. What forms the culture is not the views of the majority but those moving the levers of power — those people, organizations and institutions whose own opinions shape the opinions of others.

This, I would observe, is why celebrity support for Obama was so important. A moment’s thought will show that a film star or pop singer knows as much, or as little, as the next person when it comes to economic policy. But in a ‘celebrity culture’, what celebrities support shapes what others feel comfortable with. They quite literally become the culture.

Similarly, as others have pointed out, what Fox news has to say may be true, but Fox is so tarred with the right-wing brush that even when its reports are accurate they do not count for anything like as much as some of the ‘liberal’ outlets. Fox is important, but it is not a culture-maker.

If they want to change the culture, therefore, Hunter argues that Christians first need to understand and engage with how the culture is formed. At the same time he asserts that by buying into the political system as the basis for cultural change, Christians of all persuasions both compromise their message and, unwittingly, accept that the final arbiter in human affairs is the ‘will to power’, since all political decisions ultimately rely on the use of power — even the threat of sanction and violence — for their enforcement.

Thus what Hunter offers instead is a programme which begins both by relinquishing the political approach and by engaging with the things that really shape the culture — a policy of what he calls ‘faithful presence’, which seeks to excel in those things and those areas which are truly the expression of our humanity transformed in Christ.

And this is where the Anglican bit comes in, for there are many in the Church who believe that essentially political processes are not only the right way but the best way to bring about desirable change. Yet the current debate over women bishops is surely revealing the inadequacy of that approach.

Some will argue, for example, that the General Synod will soon express ‘the mind of the Church’ by introducing women bishops, but how can that be so when there are many who clearly oppose the move? Is the ‘mind’ dependent on ten or twenty votes? And if the decision is forced on others, is this not just the ‘will to power’ in action?

Over against this, I have been more than willing to argue for political involvement by traditionalists and conservatives. But this must not be a case of simply attempting to use power in the same way as others — just to different ends. The political process is necessary — the polis is the community, of which we are all a part. But there needs to be a much clearer understanding that the culture of the Church does not rely on politics.

A bishop once observed in my hearing, for example, that despite the growth of evangelicalism, in the ‘corridors of power’ the prevailing ethos was still ‘liberal catholic’. That is what I mean by ‘culture’. If Oak Hill college, for example, is producing excellent ministers (and it is), that may not affect the culture of the Church if Oak Hill is regarded as the theological equivalent of Fox News (and in many circles it is).

What we are left with, then, is a challenge — in the Church and in the world — to understand how things not only work in fact but how they should work when we apply Christian thinking. For Christians in America and for Anglicans in England, the challenge is immense. But I believe that unless we understand the things Hunter observes, many well-intentioned efforts here and there will be wasted.

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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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Benefice Suspensions: If you've got a problem with the judgement, complain to the judge!

As readers of this blog may be aware, there is a system in England called parish 'patronage', which means that certain individuals or corporate bodies have the right in law to 'present' clergy to fill the vacancies in particular parishes.

Often the patron is the Diocesan Bishop, but quite often it is not. Historically, therefore, it is one of those 'checks and balances' things, so inherent to the English way, which offsets the power of the bishop with the power of others - frequently the laity.

However, a bishop also has a right, in law, to suspend the right of presentation where he deems this appropriate - usually for the sake of pastoral reorganization. When this happens, he appoints a 'priest in charge', and under the old rules such a priest could be moved on after his or her license expired (though this no longer quite applies under Common Tenure). Hence the established attraction of this proposal for the bishop. But he cannot do this on a whim - the Diocesan Pastoral Committee has to approve the proposal - and he can only do it for a period of five years, after which the suspension has to be renewed.

Nevertheless, many bishops do it, shall we say, quite a lot. In the Diocese of Chelmsford, for example, almost a third of all benefices are currently 'suspended' - and some have been in this situation for a considerable period.

In the light of all this, one of the Chelmsford General Synod reps put down a question on the subject at the last General Synod. The exchange makes interesting reading:

Mrs Mary Durlacher (Chelmsford) asked the Church Commissioners: What are the circumstances in which the right of presentation to a benefice may be suspended by a diocesan bishop?

The Third Church Estates Commissioner: Section 67 of the Pastoral Measure 1983, which includes the bishop’s power to suspend the right of presentation to a benefice, makes no specific provision regarding the circumstances in which it should be used. However, the code of practice to the Measure, to which bishops are expected to have regard, recommends that it should in the main be confined to benefices where pastoral reorganisation is under consideration or in progress and, occasionally, where a change of parsonage house is planned.

Mrs Mary Durlacher: Given the rather vague definition of ‘pastoral reorganization under consideration’, you will not be surprised perhaps by my supplementary question, which is this. What recourse is available to PCCs, patrons and others, who consider that the guidance in the code of practice has not been complied with in the case of a proposed suspension?

The Third Church Estates Commissioner: The Commissioners have no jurisdiction under the Pastoral Measure to adjudicate on a proposal to suspend rights of presentation or to intervene, except where there are existing proposals of the changes to benefices and formal objections have been received; but I am sure that you can make representations to your bishop if you are concerned.

So unless I'm mistaken, if you are concerned that your bishop has not acted according to the code of practice you should make representations to ... er, the bishop!

In Chelmsford, incidentally, another requirement of the code of practice, that figures on suspensions be issued in the Annual Report to the Diocesan Synod, hasn't been followed since about 2003.

Which makes me wonder, when we are repeatedly told that a code of practice will nevertheless be 'as good as' legislation when it comes to women bishops.

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Evangelism cannot be enough for Evangelicals

Last month saw the departure of a man who, for many people, was Anglican evangelicalism. John Stott was already a venerated figure when I became a Christian at the age of 21. For me, therefore, as for many others, it is as if one of the great landmarks has disappeared.

Stott was particularly renowned, however, for making evangelicalism ‘respectable’ (or at least, a bit more respectable) in the Church of England, which he achieved via a combination of personal graciousness, intellectual calibre and an exemplary lifestyle.

It was Stott around whom the 1967 National Evangelical Anglican Congress at Keele revolved, and which committed Anglican Evangelicals to a future within the structures of the Church of England. And it was Stott again who at the 1977 NEAC gave unity and final expression to the deliberations of an increasingly diverse constituency.

Yet the place won for Evangelicals came at a price — and not only to the constituency but to the institution.

Politicians since before the days of Machiavelli have known the importance of promoting their enemies. The Elizabethan Puritan Lord Burghley reflected on the effect this had on some of his companions:

I see such worldliness in many that were otherwise affected before they came to cathedral chairs, that I fear the places alter the men. (Quoted in Patrick Collinson, The Elizabethan Puritan Movement, [London: Jonathan Cape, 1967] 49)

Write large, that could be the verdict on Anglican Evangelicalism since the second world war. We have an ‘honoured’ place in the institution, but the price exacted from us is to identify ourselves as a ‘tradition’ — one amongst the many different traditions which make up the all-embracing comprehensiveness of the Church of England.

But, as I have indicated above, at least from our own perspective, this is a betrayal not only of ourselves but of everyone else. To accept this definition of ‘evangelicalism’ is to cease to be Evangelical.

Let us consider, for a moment, the meaning of the term. There have been endless books and articles written about the nature of evangelicalism. I believe it was Stott himself, however, who said that evangelicals are ‘gospel people’. And that is surely right. The word ‘evangelical’ derives from the Greek word for the ‘gospel’, which in the New Testament refers to the message from God about his Son Jesus Christ.

So an evangelical is a person with the message of God for the world. Please note — not ‘a’ message, but ‘the’ message. There is not an ‘evangelical’ message of God sitting alongside a whole selection of ‘non-evangelical’ messages, but one message, which is ‘the evangel’.

To be an evangelical, therefore, is to claim that you are in possession of God’s message to the world — not because you have cleverly worked it out before you proclaim it. You must have received the message first. But that is itself the biblical tradition: “For what I received,” wrote Paul to the Corinthians, “I passed on to you ...”

Evangelicals, then, may accept that there are different styles and emphases in the church throughout the world, different ways of presenting and of living out the gospel message, but they can never accept that there are different ‘gospels’.

This is also why Evangelicals are actually open to change. We want to make sure that we have got the message right. It is no good us saying, “This is our tradition and our version of things, and that’s what matters.” If we are wrong, we need to change. But that will not stop us being ‘evangelicals’ — it will simply (though significantly) mean that we got things wrong in the past, and now we have (hopefully!) got them right, or at least more right than previously. Evangelicalism ought, therefore, always to be self-critical.

But by the same token, this means we cannot accept as ‘traditions’ versions of supposedly Christian living or discipleship which are not ‘evangelical’. And this is not for our sakes but for the sake of the world.

In 1945, the Church of England produced a report titled Towards the Conversion of England (highlights from which are reproduced on this blog). One of the things the report recognized, however, was the need for the transformation of the Church:

... the really daunting feature of modern evangelism is not the masses of the population to be converted, but that most of the worshipping community are only half-converted. The aim of evangelism must be to appeal to all, within as well as without the Church, for that decision for Christ which shall make the state of salvation we call conversion the usual experience of the normal Christian. (Para 81)

The problem for post-war Anglican Evangelicalism is that the more it has accepted its place within the institution, the more it has forgotten the institution’s own assessment of itself delivered in the war years. Evangelism is demanded not just in our evangelical parishes to the unconverted masses, but from evangelicals towards the unconverted Church. Our message ought to be that of our Lord to the church at Ephesus: “You have forsaken your first love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.” (Rev 2:4-5).

The reason for this, though, is not our own superiority, nor even the failings of those sections of the Church, but rather the needs of the lost world covered by parishes which have forgotten the ‘evangel’:

How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? (Rom 10:14)

Unfortunately, the Evangelical Anglican response has either been to quarantine its message within the institution, by accepting it as a ‘tradition’, or to isolate its message from the institution, by marginalization and non-involvement, focussing on its own small ‘corner of the Lord’s vineyard’. Either way, the world loses.

The true Evangelical, however, must always be working not just for the proclamation of the gospel but the transformation of the Church.

John Richardson
3 August 2011

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Bishops married to divorcees 'pose serious challenge to traditionalist Anglicans'

[...] For some people, therefore, the proposed consecration of Nicholas Holtam is a serious challenge to Church order. And indeed it may be — but the extent to which this is so clearly depends on the circumstances of his wife’s divorce.

This, however, took place in her teens, and it is obviously not for individuals to pry into why. Nevertheless, just as potential ordinands must face questioning in this regard, so it must be hoped that someone has delicately asked Mr and Mrs Holtam the same questions.

There would, however, be very serious problems if the answer was that Mrs Holtam’s divorce fell into neither of the categories arguably allowed by Christ or St Paul. It is one thing to disagree whether there are such exceptions. It is quite another simply to disregard this teaching entirely, for example by dissolving a marriage on the grounds of ‘breakdown’.

That such divorces occur is undoubtedly true. But the Church surely stands or falls by its faithfulness to Christ’s teaching. And it is the lack of clarity on this point which has potential for difficulties not just in Salisbury but beyond.

However, there is another, and just as pressing, reason why the nomination of Mr Holtam causes difficulty for traditionalists. Read more


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Marriage and the Church's ministry - why women bishops don't work for me

This is an edited piece requested for The Guardian that didn't get published.

************

“With the Church,” wrote C S Lewis in his 1948 essay Priestesses in the Church?, “... we are dealing with male and female not merely as facts of nature but as the live and awful shadows of realities utterly beyond our control and largely beyond our direct knowledge.”

These words are a reminder that current debates in the Church of England have a longer history than many realize. And they are equally a reminder that the outcome may be more serious than many think.

But I cannot myself wholly follow Lewis, who rejected women priests on the basis of their exercising an ‘iconic’ rôle in the congregation. The priest, he wrote, “represents us to God and God to us.” Yet at these words my Protestant hackles rise, for does not the priesthood belong to all, both men and women? Martin Luther, no less, wrote that, “when women baptize, they exercise the function of priesthood ... and do it ... as a part of the public ministry of the church” (LW 40:23).

Nevertheless, Luther, Lewis and I would all oppose the admission of women to the Anglican episcopate. And for myself, this indeed relates to Lewis’ belief in the iconic significance of human gender. The place to see this exemplified, however, is not in the Eucharist but in marriage.

The Book of Common Prayer describes marriage as “signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church.” There is much that could be said about this, and one of the best accounts is by the Roman Catholic author, Edward Schillebeeckx. The title of his book, Marriage: human reality and saving mystery, identifies the close connection between what is increasingly treated as an incidental aspect of human experience and the entire structure of Christian theology, focussed as it is on the need for, and nature of, our salvation.

Here, Lewis is precisely right. Male and female are discovered to be not mere ‘facts of nature’ but ‘shadows of realities beyond our control’, for in the narrative of Scripture the physical (re)unification of man and woman in Genesis 2:24 is finally identified with the spiritual union of the Saviour and the saved: ‘as it is written, “The two will become one flesh.” But he who is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with him’ (1 Cor 6:16-17, ESV).

Indeed, this theme within Scripture has profound implications which are rarely considered in Christian theology. Nevertheless, for our present purposes, the consequences are relatively familiar and straightforward, and concern polity within the family, where the male and the female are both ‘iconic’: the man representing Christ towards his wife, and the woman representing the Church towards her husband.

This is most explicitly set out in Ephesians 5, where the relationship is described in terms of ‘head’ and ‘body’, from which has been derived a concept of ‘male headship’. But it is precisely here that we find within contemporary Anglican Evangelicalism both misconstrual and misapplication.

From the Conservative side, there is a misapplication of ‘headship’ from the specific context of marriage to the general context of the Church. Thus the pressure-group Reform speaks of ‘the divine order of male headship, which makes the headship of women as priests in charge, incumbents, dignitaries and bishops inappropriate’.

Yet this is theologically clumsy, for (Thomas Cranmer and Henry VIII not withstanding), the headship of the Church belongs only to Christ. Husband is to wife as Christ is to Church, but not as vicar is to congregation, bishop to diocese — or even monarch to national denomination.

On the ‘egalitarian’ side, however, there is misconstrual, for even where the parallel in marriage with Christ and the Church is admitted (and many of this persuasion find that difficult enough), its practical implications are effectively denied on the argument that the passage calls for a ‘mutual submission’ of all Christians to one another. The submission of a wife to her husband is thus ultimately rendered indistinguishable from the submission of a husband to his wife.

Such an interpretation, however, is hard to maintain. With regard not only to the specific verses but to the overall thrust of the New Testament Scriptures, the weight of evidence is with the Traditionalist view of marriage.

Nevertheless, the application of this to Anglican ecclesiology is not straightforward.

The Church in the New Testament was not so much an agglomeration of individual believers as a ‘community of communities’ — witness the prevalence of ‘household’ baptisms. Individuals there certainly were, but people belonged to households. (This was especially true for slaves, who ‘belonged’ in both senses of the word.) And the household was not just an economic unit but a faith-community in itself.

Arguably, it is this which lies behind the New Testament injunctions about the rôles of women in the Church. 1 Timothy 2:12, for example, famously forbids a woman ‘to teach or to exercise authority over a man’. Yet the underlying rationale is the example of Adam and Eve (vv13-14), who are treated elsewhere as not just individuals but the archetypal couple. As Christ himself is understood to be the new ‘Adam’ (1 Cor 15:45), so Eve is never just ‘a woman’, but is the primeval ‘wife’.

Moreover, it must be remembered that teaching, in this context, is not the mere imparting of facts, as one might teach English or engineering. Rather, it is the imparting of what ought to be believed and practised, and therefore includes reproof and correction (2 Tim 3:16).

If this is the issue, then the primary focus of the injunctions would be the preservation of the ‘iconic’ husband/wife relationships fundamental to the households of the Church, rather than a concern about who may or may not belong to a group which would later become a separate, and professionalized, ‘caste’ within Christendom, as did the priesthood.

The problem within Anglicanism, particularly for Evangelicals like myself, is that there is no simple overlap between our traditional orders of ministry (bishop, priest and deacon) and the biblical pattern of local elder-overseers and semi-permanent deacons alongside peripatetic Apostolic teams. The modern bishop’s rôle in particular, with all its administrative concerns, is almost completely unlike anything found in the pages of the New Testament.

Nevertheless, these orders are our way of providing the ministry which the New Testament prescribes for the health of the Church, and must not therefore conflict with that aim. Thus, as, David Broughton-Knox, the former principal of Moore Theological College, wrote, ‘relationships between men and women in the congregation should not contradict relationships of the home’.

And for my own part, I find it impossible to see how a woman can be a priest-in-charge, incumbent or (especially) a bishop, whilst maintaining with a husband at home the iconic relationship of the Church and Christ, let alone modelling this doctrine to others as the Ordinal says we should. This is especially so when we consider the authority conferred on those offices by the Anglican way of doing things.

It is on this basis that I believe Evangelicals should be conducting the debate about women’s ordination and ministry. Indeed, I understand there is an ‘Open Evangelical’ book in the making which addresses precisely some of these issues.

The one thing I cannot do, and would resist within the Church, is to dismiss the Bible at this point as merely ‘culturally conditioned’. The overarching theme of Christ and the Church is too profound for that. At the end of the Scriptural canon, in the book of Revelation, we read that the age to come is ushered in with a wedding: the New Jerusalem descends from heaven ‘as a Bride adorned for her husband’ (Rev 21:2), and the ancient marana tha (‘Come, Lord’, 1 Cor 16:21) of the early Church is echoed in the invocation of the Spirit and the Bride in Revelation 22:17.

Insofar as human marriage is called to reflect this understanding of the Church in the future, so it must inform, and where necessary control, our understanding of the Church in the present.

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Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop and Martyr

"Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who of thy tender mercy didst give thine only Son Jesus Christ to suffer death upon the Cross for our redemption; who made there (by his one oblation of himself once offered) a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world; and did institute, and in his holy Gospel command us to continue, a perpetual memory of that his precious death, until his coming again: Hear us, O merciful Father, we most humbly beseech thee; and grant that we receiving these thy creatures of bread and wine, according to thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ's holy institution, in remembrance of his death and passion, may be partakers of his most blessed Body and Blood ..."

Today is the 455th anniversary of the death of Archbishop Thomas Cranmer.

To him we undoubtedly owe much that is good (and some that is not so good) about the Church of England and the global Anglican Communion.

Above all, in my view, Cranmer gave us an inestimable liturgy, especially in his 1552 service of the Lord's Supper. For a guide to what this entailed I still think you can hardly do better than to read Colin Buchanan's little Grove Booklet What did Cranmer think he was doing? Why not order it today in commemoration?

(Acknowledgements to the other Cranmer for pointing this out.)

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Divorce and the Episcopate

Published in today's Church of England Newspaper under the heading 'Getting to the Root of what Marriage Means'.

Fans of Colin Firth’s recent Oscar™-winning performance will no doubt have noticed that the film in which he stars is not titled The Duke’s Speech. Overcoming a serious stammer is an impressive feat for a public speaker, but the story would have been considerably less interesting had Albert not replaced his brother Edward as King, just as Western civilization was to face its greatest challenge to date.

What modern audiences must find difficult to appreciate (if they notice it at all), however, is that Edward’s abdication came about not because the law of the land or the constitution required it, but simply because neither the Prime Minister nor other key leaders of the Commonwealth would accept the King being married to a divorcee.

Had today’s standards prevailed, of course, there would have been no problem — though it is hard to imagine Britain going to war with Hitler, having a monarch so apparently enamoured with the latter’s political views. But as Edward himself said, Wallis Simpson was the woman he loved, and today that would clearly be enough not just for him but for the nation as a whole.

This may seem an unreasonable starting point for considering the Church of England’s position on divorce and the episcopate. Indeed, the mere mention of Hitler and divorce in the same breath surely falls foul of ‘Godwin’s Law of Nazi Analogies’, meaning that the argument is lost.

The point, however, is not just how difficult things were then, or how quickly they have changed since, but how different are the principles on which we now habitually operate.

One of the most depressing features of the recent debate in General Synod was the regular reference to ‘marital breakdown’ as acceptable grounds for divorce.

True, the Church of England does not take an ‘indissolubilist’ view of marriage. Moreover, there are many conservatives who would argue that the New Testament recognizes two circumstances in which remarriage of a Christian to someone else is allowed, namely after adultery has broken the marriage covenant (Matt 19:9) or after abandonment by a non-Christian spouse has rendered faithfulness unsustainable (1 Cor 7:15).

To this, we may add a third possibility, when divorce took place before the individual was a believer and therefore acted in ignorance of the gospel requirement and without the power of Christ to help them.

Nowhere, however, does the Bible indicate that ‘marriage breakdown’ is grounds for anything other than separation, to be followed if possible by reconciliation (1 Cor 7:10-11). Moreover, Paul’s explicit appeal in this regard to the Lord’s command recognizes both the challenge and the dominical authority of what is required. Who would propose such a thing had Christ not first said it?

And this is why the Church will find itself in an increasing difficulty on this issue. It is no consolation that the same standards will apply to candidates for the episcopate as now apply to potential deacons and priests (which Synod has agreed) if they are the wrong standards.

Of course, relationships break down — even (perhaps especially) within marriage. Seventy-five years ago, however, the King was expected to adhere to the practice of marriage as ‘a solemn, public and life-long covenant between a man and a woman’ (as our own bishops have described it), irregardless of personal desire. The distance we have travelled since then is not just in our expectation of the individual or the monarchy, but in our commitment to the principle.

Most important of all, therefore, is the need to recognize that this is not finally about divorce but marriage itself. As one speaker in the Synod debate pointed out, marriage is modelled on the relationship between the Redeemer God and his redeemed people — and who else could be better candidates for divorce? Thus God’s hatred of divorce is the counterpoint to his love for his people. And therefore an acceptance of divorce on the basis of ‘marriage breakdown’ is a fundamental departure from the very nature of marriage as modelled on a spiritual reality.

This is why we vow, “Til death us do part.” The Church which teaches otherwise, and embodies that teaching in the lives of its ministers, will soon find that it is not a Church at all. And since it would seem that canonical dispensation is already being applied ‘liberally’ (in every sense of the word), the worry must be that the Church’s ministry and witness will both be weakened by this latest development.

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A plea concerning women bishops

I have just e-mailed to as many Reform members and sympathizers as I can find in my address book a 'plea concerning women bishops'.

This is not something I want to post on this blog at the moment, but it is something I wish to receive a wide circulation in the Reform constituency.

If, therefore, this includes you, but you have not received a copy of the e-mail, I will send it to you if you contact me via the e-mail link at the bottom of the left column. You will need to include a full name, address and telephone number so I can check you against the Reform address list before sending a reply.

John Richardson


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The forgotten rôle of the 1993 Act of Synod

Recently I was at a meeting of evangelicals from the Diocese of Chelmsford which, at one stage, turned quite painful. The occasion was a discussion of the ‘Following Motion’ suggested by the Church of England Evangelical Council, to be put to deanery and diocesan synods considering the draft Bishops and Priests (Consecration and Ordination of Women) Measure being proposed by the General Synod.

The Following Motion urges the House of Bishops to bring forward amendments to the Measure in order to strengthen the provision of episcopal oversight for those “unable on theological grounds to accept the ministry of women bishops”.

Many evangelical Anglicans actually have no problem with this, but for the sake of those who do, the CEEC is sponsoring the motion specifically in the interests of evangelical unity.

Even so, in our own conversations it was clear that not everyone was willing to give their support, one of the stated reasons being that the 1993 Episcopal Ministry Act of Synod — the legislation that provided for the ‘flying bishops’ — had created “a mess”.

As the discussion became more detailed, I found myself checking the specifics of the Act, but also looking back at the original Priests (Ordination of Women) Measure itself. And what I found came as a surprise.

In what follows I may be mistaken both in terms of interpretation of the legislation and regarding what actually happened at the time and subsequently. Corrections will therefore be welcome. However, it seems to me that as the debate on women bishops nears its probable conclusion, there are things about the original provisions, and specifically the rôle of the Act of Synod, which have been forgotten.

First, there is the stark nature of the original Measure. This consists of three main parts plus a Schedule. The first simply allows the General Synod “to make provision by Canon for enabling a woman to be ordained to the office of priest”.

The third contains general material relating to interpretation.

But it is the second which is the most striking in the present context, given that it allowed an existing diocesan bishop to ‘opt out’ with his entire diocese:

(1) A bishop of a diocese in office at the relevant date [of the enabling Canon] may make any one or more of the following declarations—

(a) that a woman is not to be ordained within the diocese to the office of priest; or

(b) that a woman is not to be instituted or licensed to the office of incumbent or priest-in-charge of a benefice, or of team vicar for a benefice, within the diocese; or

(c) that a woman is not to be given a licence or permission to officiate as a priest within the diocese.

The only thing a woman could do in such a diocese, according to the Measure, was “officiate as a priest in a church or chapel for one period of not more than seven days in any period of three months without reference to the bishop or other Ordinary” (2.2.7).

And here is where the Act of Synod comes in. Bear in mind, however, that when the Measure went before Parliament, the Act itself had not been passed, or even presented to the General Synod. It was simply a plan in the House of Bishops to present the Act to the Synod the week after Parliament approved the Measure.

It is therefore important to read at length what the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Most Revd George Carey, had to say in the House of Lords on the 2nd November. Note especially the highlighted sections (the quotation is necessarily shortened for the sake of blog readers):

[...] Much attention has been focused on Clause 2 of the Measure which provides that a diocesan bishop, who is in office when the canon enabling women to be ordained priest is promulged, may make one or more of three declarations. By making all three of these declarations, a diocesan bishop could in effect exclude women priests from his diocese.

[However ...]

The potential significance of Clause 2 has substantially lessened as a result of the pastoral arrangements which the House of Bishops wishes to put in place once the canon is promulged.

[...]

The arrangements the House envisages are designed to ensure that appropriate pastoral episcopal care is provided for those in favour and those opposed to the legislation, without undermining the authority of the diocesan bishop. Our intention is to give continued space within the Church of England to those of differing views on this subject. The arrangements are embodied in an Act of Synod, which the General Synod will be invited to approve when it meets in London next week.

Thus the Act of Synod, whilst certainly having in mind the particular interests of those opposed to women priests, also made provision “for those in favour”, specifically as follows:

11 (1) ... where the bishop of the diocese has indicated that he is opposed to the ordination of women to the priesthood and, in case of a bishop in office at the relevant date, that he is unwilling to make a declaration under section 2 thereof, the ordination to the priesthood of women from the diocese and their licensing and institution shall be carried out by the archbishop concerned, either personally or through a bishop acting as his commissary; and the archbishop shall cause the archiepiscopal seal to be affixed to any documents that are needed for that purpose.

(2) The archbishop shall act under subsection (1) above either at the request of the diocesan bishop concerned or in pursuance of his metropolitical jurisdiction, but shall not so act unless he is satisfied that the diocesan bishop concerned has no objection.

(3) Subsection (1) above shall not apply where the bishop of a diocese has made arrangements for the ordination of women to the priesthood and their licensing and institution to be carried out by another bishop. (Episcopal Ministry Act of Synod 1993)

Hence, as the 2004 report of the House of Bishops’ Working Party on Women in the Episcopate observed, the Act of Synod not only took into account the view of those opposed to women priests but,

It made provision for the ordination, licensing and institution of women priests in dioceses where the diocesan bishop was opposed to the ordination of women priests. (Women Bishops in the Church of England? 2004, 4.2.47)

The Act of Synod, therefore, was not offered simply as a ‘messy’ response to the demands of traditionalists, but was an important part of a total package presented to embrace both sides. As Archbishop Carey said, for example, “the potential significance of Clause 2” of the original Measure was “substantially lessened” by the Act of Synod.

Moreover, it is clear from the Hansard record of the debate in the House of Lords that the assurances being given about the Act of Synod were fundamental to the successful passage of the Measure itself at the time. What Parliament considered was not simply the Measure in isolation, but a combined package of ‘Measure and Act’. The passionate closing speech of the Archbishop of York, one of the chief architects of the Act, bears this out:

People have said, “Well, it is possible to revert an Act of Synod”. Of course, it is possible to revert anything, even legislation. However, as I am sure that your Lordships realise, it is not very easy to reverse things in the Church of England; indeed, it is not easy to do anything in the Church of England, especially if one is trying to undo something. Any motion of that kind requires the approval of all three Houses. Therefore, once you have something, it is really quite hard to get rid of it. I believe that the House can, with confidence, vote for the Measures before us unamended. I feel that we will all come together and that the synod will, next week, see the point of enshrining this treasured diversity of the Church of England in the Act of Synod. (Emphasis added)

Yet the words of Lady Saltoun of Abernethy earlier in the same debate are also worth quoting at length:

I myself asked the most reverend Primate the Archbishop of Canterbury whether it was envisaged that the Act of Synod would operate in perpetuity or whether it would be in the nature of a temporary measure which would cease to operate at some future date. He replied that it was the intention that it should be permanent and that they were not thinking of rescinding it or anything like that. Then he added the caveat, “with the goodwill of the House of Bishops”. He went on to say that of course anything could happen in the future.

That is just the trouble. The fact is that the safeguards should have been incorporated in the Measure for the ordination of women. I feel that the General Synod underestimated the strength of the opposition to the Measure and thought that it would get it through with only such safeguards as are in Clause 2. I believe that it became clear to them that the majority of the members of the Ecclesiastical Committee, even many of them who supported the ordination of women, were concerned as to the efficacy of those safeguards and felt that they might be faced with an adverse vote in the committee. They produced the Manchester Declaration Mark II and the proposed Act of Synod very quickly. I am cynical enough to suspect that that was done out of necessity in order to get the Measure through Parliament and that, had the Ecclesiastical Committee in general not expressed such concern at the unfairness with which it was proposed to treat orthodox clergy and members of the Church, nothing would have been done at all.

Indeed, in the light of the Archbishop of York’s comments, her words now seem entirely prescient:

I want to concentrate on the safeguards for those who hold orthodox Anglican views, because I am concerned that those safeguards will be short lived. [...] They are to be enshrined only in an Act of Synod, which can be amended or rescinded at any time by a simple majority in the General Synod. Since we have no real guarantee that diocesan bishops who are opposed to the ordination of women will continue to be appointed, we wonder how long it will be before there is not one single bishop in the Church of England who does not support the ordination of women and who can therefore act as a provincial episcopal visitor to those who do not.

It is the history of what happened subsequent to 1993 that makes the need for ‘proper provision’ so urgent in the eyes of those who today remain opposed to the consecration of women as bishops.

The Act of Synod provided that “There will be no discrimination against candidates either for ordination or for appointment to senior office in the Church of England on the grounds of their views about the ordination of women to the priesthood.” And yet there has clearly been such discrimination.

The Archbishop of Canterbury suggested to a Peer that the Act of Synod would be ‘permanent’, and the Archbishop of York amusingly pointed out how hard it is to change things in the Church of England. And yet the Act of Synod has long been under threat and may soon be repealed.

Safeguards, provisions and assurances were offered and put in place in one generation, only for the current generation to propose removing them at a stroke.

And, of course, Parliament itself has changed its tune and may even be willing to force the Church of England to change accordingly.

No doubt, few if any of those opposing the request of ‘proper provision’ will think in terms of ‘betrayal’. And yet the words spoken just two decades ago do seem to tell a different story. The Act of Synod was vital then to giving supporters of women’s ordination what they wanted, when they wanted it, and that ought to be remembered in the current debate. But what ought also to be remembered, and acknowledged on both sides, is that the safeguards last time were not in the Measure. This time, they surely must be.

John Richardson
10 February 2011

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Baptismal Integrity

Completely by accident, whilst looking for something on a related topic, I came across this website titled Baptism Integrity, which claims to be (and probably is) “the only website dedicated to consideration of the issues of the theology and practice of baptism, christening and thanksgivings primarily in the Church of England.”

Back in the 1970s, when we were taught liturgy by the inestimable Colin Buchanan (not the Aussie singer, but the Bishop of Aston and, later, Woolwich), a ‘rigorist’ line on infant baptism was all the rage amongst alumni of St John’s Nottingham, many of whom (myself included) were extremely reluctant to baptize the children of non-churchgoers.

Indeed, for a brief while the whole issue was of interest to the Church of England. Since then, however, it has become of far less concern, and I suspect that, as in many other areas, private judgement reigns supreme amongst clergy as to what sort of policy they adopt.

More importantly — and I hope to catch up with the Synod debate on the subject — I suspect equally widespread confusion reigns as to what precisely we are doing in infant baptism, and not least regarding the relevance of the parents’ faith.

It took me quite a while to realize that if you follow the BCP then, technically, the faith of the parents is irrelevant. Thus, speaking to the godfathers and godmothers, the priest says (inter alia),

... this Infant must also faithfully, for his part, promise by you that are his sureties, (until he come of age to take it upon himself,) that he will renounce the devil and all his works, and constantly believe God's holy Word, and obediently keep his commandments.

I demand therefore,

Dost thou, in the name of this Child, renounce the devil and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous desires of the same, and the carnal desires of the flesh, so that thou wilt not follow nor be led by them?

A renunciation is indeed demanded, but from the child, not the parents and godparents!

Anyway, I’m sure there’s a debate to be had, but at this stage I just wanted to commend the website for people’s interest. There is a newsletter, and my old friend Taffy Davies, who used to do the covers of Grove Booklets, still seems to be drawing for them.

Go and have a read.

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Another 'must read'

George Conger is usually worth a read. This piece from the Church of England Newspaper, however, is outstanding - not least because it signifies an historical moment. As he identifies, the Primates' Council, which was once crucial for the doctrine and discipline of the Anglican Communion, has pretty much voted, in a very un-Turkey like fashion, for the ecclesiologial equivalent of Christmas: "Dr. Williams has now effectively gathered the authority once held by other instruments of the communion into his own hands, and into those of a London-based bureaucracy."

This is the new real politik of the Communion, and must equally be the signal for a new self-understanding of the Church of England:

Dublin primates meeting marks an ‘end to the communion as we know it’

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Quote of the Day

"I have encountered a form of church that does not offend me."

From here.

And isn't that ultimately the problem with Liberal Christianity?

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A house divided against itself

The other day I was approached by my Archdeacon, who informed me that she was “on the case” regarding the impact of the new clergy ‘terms of service’ regulations on my own particular situation of employment. Not having been aware that there was a ‘case’ to be on, and having something of an allergy for paperwork, I was glad someone was watching out for me in this instance.

However, I cannot help reflecting, after the events of the past week, on the way that the Church of England is so assiduous about rules and regulations in one area and so slack in another.

It has been said that it must sometimes seem as if the Church cares more about how its clergy behave than what they believe. I would put it slightly different: the Church is more careful about applying the set standards in the first area than it is in the second.

This week, I have come across two instances where ‘official’ Church events have simply ridden roughshod over the Thirty-nine Articles. The first (actually where the Archdeacon spoke with me) disregarded a significant part of Article XX ‘Of the Authority of the Church’ and the second largely ignored Article XVIII ‘Of obtaining eternal Salvation only by the Name of Christ’.

Now my point here is not whether those Articles — or any of the Articles — are right in what they affirm (though I happen to think they mostly are).

Rather, it is whether, as Walter Sobchak puts it in The Big Lebowski, “Smokey, this is not ‘Nam. This is bowling. There are rules.”

What would have happened had I said to the Archdeacon, “That’s very nice for you, and I’m glad you take that view, but some of us see things differently. Though as our speaker has just observed, that does not mean we ought not to be in communion with one another”?

Someone may observe, “But there are legal consequences, you can’t ignore the law”, to which I would reply, “Why should there not be consequences — not necessarily in law, but in practice — for a departure from the parameters laid down for Anglican doctrine? What matters more in the long term, the housing I occupy or the ideas I preach?”

Someone else may say, “You cannot just ‘do it your way’. What would happen if we all did our own thing? The point of these regulations is to introduce consistency across the Church,” to which I would reply, “Quite so.”

John Richardson
16 January 2011

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Why has Reform failed?

Next week sees the annual conference of Reform. Established in 1993, in the wake of the decision by General Synod to ordain women, Reform describes itself as, “a network of individuals and churches within the Church of England ... committed to reforming the Church of England from within according to the Holy Scriptures.”

Reform was founded in an outburst of concern and enthusiasm, and in the early years its membership grew, its meetings attracted considerable numbers and they generated lively interest and debate.

In all the years of its existence, however, it is arguable that although Reform has kept the Conservative Evangelical flag flying, it has not, as an organization, achieved a single specific ‘victory’. (One only has to look at the list of recent highlights to see that this is so.)

Unsurprisingly, some early members have given up on Reform entirely, and numbers had been in decline. Apparently, however, the next conference is fully booked, and with the twentieth anniversary of its founding hoving into view, it is a good time to ask why Reform has not succeeded in the past and how it might succeed in the future.

The first problem is quite simply the nature of Reform itself: is it a political body, a club, a pressure group, a mission society, all of the above, or none?

I have personally been, and remain, a member of Reform because it is the only Conservative evangelical group with which it is possible to identify. But even I am unclear about exactly what we exist for. It is all very well having high aims, but there need also to be clear goals and distinct and definite steps in place to achieve those goals.

The nearest the Reform website gets to defining this is the following:

Reform members are working to identify practical ways of reforming the Church of England to enable the clear proclamation of the gospel that Jesus Christ is Lord.

Given almost seventeen years of existence, we ought by now to have some idea what those “practical ways” are. Yet it seems that at every opportunity, Reform as an organization has failed to adopt any practical measures or in any effective way to commend them to its own constituency.

One of the problems here is the nature of Reform’s leadership. At one level it is constructed along completely standard organizational lines. There is a central Council which does the official business, which invites people to join its ranks and which determines who will be the Chairman. And then there is a membership which looks to the Council for a lead. But unfortunately, to quote a well-known advert, it doesn’t quite work like that.

On the one hand, the Council is not only self-selecting but quite select. Members are required to sign the Reform Covenant, the Danvers Statement on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood and the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy, and since it matters to the thrust of this article I will simply point out that I personally fell at the first hurdle (but that is another story).

The problem is not really with who is on the Council, but with how the Council relates to the agenda of the organization. For in terms of ‘management style’, Reform likes to describe itself as a ‘network of networks’, such that effective action is devolved to the local level.

Now that is all very well, provided that such effective local action is given priority and the central body encourages this both in word and deed.

Unfortunately, what actually happens is that the Council does not direct and the local groups do not initiate, whilst (seemingly) each looks to the other for a lead.

Some of my more depressing moments at Reform gatherings have been when someone on the platform has announced, along with the latest suggestion for a course of action, that it will be entirely up to individuals to decide whether they want to go along with it or not. It mystifies me that a body with so many ex-military personnel does not grasp that if you are going to shout ‘Charge!’ it is no good adding, ‘When you’re ready.’

But it is not all the fault of the Council, for at the local level things are no better. In fact, after seventeen years, there are only eleven diocesan Reform groups in the whole of England. Here, the difficulty is that people do not see their local Reform group as a means to getting things done. Instead, the prevailing Anglican parochialism, combined with clerical busy-ness, conspire to push Reform into second place (if that). Nor, which is surprising given that we are supposedly a ‘network of networks’, is there any coordination with, or awareness of, other local groups.

This lack of local organization and leadership is surely another reason why Reform has made so little impact. But we need to ask serious questions about why an organization that claims to be decentralized in principle has so manifestly failed to decentralize in practice.

A further problem is, not surprisingly, Reform’s lack of a coherent ecclesiology. The clearest instance of this is its collective failure to mandate its own membership to pass ‘Resolution C’, the petition for provision under the Episcopal Ministry Act of Synod 1993. In my view, this is simply incomprehensible, and the failure in this regard has been culpable.

Of course Reform comes from that Anglican evangelical stable that disregards both bishops and episcopacy and relies on the local congregation as the key unit of organization. But we belong to an episcopal church, and we only have to look around the global Anglican communion today to see the significance of bad and good bishops. In England, our appointments process means that the mass of the Church can have very little impact on the selection of bishops. To have passed up the opportunity to have a closer relationship with bishops of our own convictions was just mad.

But again, the passing up of the opportunity is itself symptomatic of an endemic problem in Reform, which is the conviction of many in leadership rôles (not just on the Council) that they can ‘go it alone’, that they do not need the wider Church or the other congregations. And this manifests itself in a not-very attractive adulation of outward success, whereby to be a ‘senior’ clergyman equates to being the leader of a big congregation.

In short, our ecclesiology is defective — not in the way that is often alleged, in terms of ministry and sacraments (although some of the latter is bad enough) — but in terms of existing and acting effectively within the institution to which we all belong.

Reform is not about to fall apart. It is too well-established for that, and in any case there isn’t any other game in town at the moment for Conservative Evangelical Anglicans. But it is time that a serious look was taken at its failure to achieve anything of note, despite the strengths of its membership and its commitment to such laudable goals.

Perhaps it is time for repentance, as well as for renewal.

John Richardson
13 October 2010

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Ordinands must know the formularies!

For much of last week, I was working hard on a talk which I delivered to the Prayer Book Society on Saturday morning. I have not previously been a member of that body, and (to be honest) would not have previously considered joining. However, I was invited to speak to them on the strength of some remarks I made in a talk at Oak Hill College in 2009, and agreed to elaborate on what I said then.

As a precis of the content of my address, I sent them the following, which pretty much sums it up:

            Have we an anchor? Reasserting the doctrinal rôle of the Book of Common Prayer

The Declaration of Assent requires all Anglican clergy at their ordination and their admission to a new post to recognize that the “historic formularies”, which include the Book of Common Prayer, have a special place in witnessing to the Christian faith.

Today, however, we have rather lost touch with the Prayer Book, and even where it is used, there is often little awareness of its doctrinal foundations and signficance. The result is that whilst lip-service is paid to the Declaration of Assent, many people do not realize the liturgy of the Prayer Book is designed to express and teach a particular point of view, and sometimes to contradict other points of view. Indeed, one suspects that many clergy today are quite ignorant of the Prayer Book, and therefore of its doctrinal heritage.

Beginning with the Declaration of Assent, my talk will reassess the position of the Prayer Book in shaping the Anglican church, and ask whether and how we can reassert its doctrinal rôle.

One of the contentious points in this, it is often argued, is what commitment of belief is required by the Declaration of Assent. Are we declaring thereby that we believe what the formularies teach (the question goes), or are we simply affirming the teaching of the formularies as a witness to the historic (but not necessarily contemporary) faith of the Church of England?

Browsing through the PBS bookstall at the weekend, however, my attention was drawn to Canon C 7, of whose contents I must admit to be culpably unaware, but which seems to have considerable bearing on the issue. It reads as follows:

C 7 Of examination for holy orders

No bishop shall admit any person into holy orders, except such person on careful and diligent examination, wherein the bishop shall have called to his assistance the archdeacons and other ministers appointed for this purpose, be found to possess a sufficient knowledge of Holy Scripture and of the doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Church of England as set forth in the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, The Book of Common Prayer, and the Ordinal: and to fulfil the requirements as to learning and other qualities which, subject to any directions given by the General Synod, the bishop deems necessary for the office of deacon.

This would seem to settle one question and to raise another. As to the status of the formularies, Canon C7 states clearly that there is “doctrine” specific to the Church of England which is “set forth in” the formularies, and it further requires that candidates should have “sufficient knowledge” of this doctrine to suit them for holy orders.

Now it would clearly be a nonsense for a Church to require candidates to have knowledge of doctrines belonging to that Church, only for them to be free to reject those doctrines.

It is surely hard, therefore, to avoid the conclusion that Anglican clergy under the authority of the Canons are required both to know and to hold the doctrines set forth in the formularies — the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, The Book of Common Prayer, and the Ordinal.

But this brings me to the second question, which is quite simply, “Do they?”

And for an answer we must look in particular to what the colleges and courses teach in this regard (and, of course, to whether the examing bodies who review those colleges and courses are concerned about what they teach).

One would expect, at very least, that candidates would be taught about, and assessed in their knowledge of, the formularies. In my address to the PBS, I argued that it would also represent ‘good practice’ for the colleges and courses to make regular and frequent use of the Prayer Book, especially given that many candidates would have little experience of this resource.

I would be very interested, therefore, to hear of the experiences people have had in this regard. In my day, we were superbly taught by Colin Buchanan, whose infectious enthusiasm for English liturgy was absorbed by many of his students. But then I was also of that generation which grew up on the Prayer Book (albeit the 1928 version). With most people now exposed almost exclusively to Common Worship, DIY liturgies or something closer to Rome, at very least it should be recognized that the colleges and courses have a job to do in this regard.

John Richardson
20 September 2010

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Back - from the PBS conference

After the best (or worst!) part of nine days without a phone or internet connection, we have now rejoined civilization.

What a lot has been going on, and what a lot I would quite like to have blogged about. But maybe it was good to give us all a rest.

Ironically, in the light of the Pope’s ongoing visit to these shores, I was away from Friday night to Saturday at the annual conference of the Prayer Book Society. (Ironic, because although the religious establishment of this country has been enthusiastically warm towards the Pope, the Book of Common Prayer was of course written to embody and impart doctrines precisely opposed to those held then and now by Rome.)

Until yesterday, I was not a member of the Prayer Book Society, but I’ve now been signed up as an honorary member. It was very useful, however, being forced to think more carefully about the entire Prayer Book ‘project’ for the purposes of producing a coherent talk.

One of the things I realized as a consequence was how the most significant element of Morning and Evening Prayer is — oddly enough — not prayer. This is what we read in the Preface, ‘Concerning the Service of the Church’:

There was never any thing by the wit of man so well devised, or so sure established, which in continuance of time hath not been corrupted: As, among other things, it may plainly appear by the Common Prayers in the Church, commonly called Divine Service. The first original and ground whereof if a man would search out by the ancient Fathers, he shall find, that the same was not ordained but of a good purpose, and for a great advancement of godliness. For they so ordered the matter, that all the whole Bible (or the greatest part thereof) should be read over once every year; intending thereby, that the Clergy, and especially such as were Ministers in the congregation, should (by often reading, and meditation in God’s word) be stirred up to godliness themselves, and be more able to exhort others by wholesome doctrine, and to confute them that were adversaries to the truth; and further, that the people (by daily hearing of holy Scripture read in the Church) might continually profit more and more in the knowledge of God, and be the more inflamed with the love of his true Religion.

The liturgy is indeed there ‘for a great advancement of godliness’. But how is this achieved? By ‘the whole Bible (or the greatest part thereof) being read over by the clergy and heard by the people every year — actually the Old Testament once, the New Testament twice and the Psalter every month.

The prayers surrounding the Bible readings are a ‘delivery system’, designed to put us in the right frame of mind (as the introduction to each service puts it),

... when we assemble and meet together to render thanks for the great benefits that we have received at his hands, to set forth his most worthy praise, to hear his most holy Word, and to ask those things which are requisite and necessary, as well for the body as the soul.

Of course, the agenda is more than just Bible reading — otherwise we would just have the Bible read. But the reading of the Bible is the sine qua non of the daily offices, the necessary condition without which Morning and Evening Prayer would fail to achieve what they were designed to achieve.

And so, likewise, when we read in the Ordinal, that the priest is to

... continually pray to God the Father, by the mediation of our only Saviour Jesus Christ, for the heavenly assistance of the Holy Ghost; that, by daily reading and weighing of the Scriptures, ye may wax riper and stronger in your ministry ...

we realize that, taken in conjunction with the rest of the Prayer Book, the way he will do this is through the daily exercise of Morning and Evening Prayer, wherein he will indeed read through the Scriptures, in large chunks, sequentially, with little ommitted except, as I recall, parts of the book of Revelation.

Incidentally, isn’t there something significant in the fact that although the Declaration of Assent ties us to the Book of Common Prayer as a witness to the truth of the faith we inherit, the Church of England website didn’t contain the full text of the BCP until it was recently added — thanks to the Prayer Book Society?

John Richardson
19 September 2010

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"Any group of congregations ... can become an Anglican province"

Robert Van Der Weyer is, I seem to recall, something of a maverick. Nevertheless, I also remember him as a stimulating speaker at a conference I attended many years ago. Recently he has written a piece for New Directions which is, to say the least, challenging. I cannot, unfortunately, vouch for his understanding or otherwise of Church law, but he has suggested that legally a diocese or province is a voluntary association of parishes, and that therefore any group of Anglicans could set one up pretty much when they want. Here is the beginning of his article, and you can read the rest by following the link.

When the idea of a new province in England for traditionalist Anglo-Catholics and Evangelicals emerged a few years ago, it was assumed that only General Synod could institute it by means of legislation. In fact, this is legally incorrect, and contrary to historic precedent. Traditionalists have the right to form their own province without reference to General Synod; and this seems the moment to exercise that right.

English ecclesiastical law contains no definition of either a province or a diocese. But Halsbury’s Laws of England, an authoritative commentary, defines a province as ‘the circuit of an archbishop’s jurisdiction’ [vol. 14, para. 428], and a diocese as ‘the circuit of a bishop’s jurisdiction’ [vol. 14, para. 454]. Thus a diocese is a voluntary association of congregations that choose to put themselves under the oversight of a particular bishop; and a province is an association of one or more dioceses placing themselves under an archbishop.

The voluntary nature

The voluntary nature of dioceses, and by implication provinces, was confirmed in 1841 by the Bishops in Foreign Countries Act (still in force), which gives permission for such ‘Protestant congregations as may be desirous of placing themselves under [a bishop’s] authority’ [s2]. Thus the thirty-six Anglican provinces outside England formed not because the convocations of Canterbury and York passed laws allowing them to do so, but because congregations chose to form them. Once created, a province can devise its own constitution and laws. Read more

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We are not chickens, and the sky is not falling in

Is it me, or is some of the reaction in traditionalist quarters of the Church of England in the last few weeks regarding the introduction of women bishops rather reminiscent of Chicken Little — she of the sky is falling in fame?

OK, there are reasons to be upset. Existing and workable (if not ideal) compromises are to be dismantled, trust has been betrayed whilst calls are being made to trust those doing the betraying, and looming in the background for those with ‘ears to hear’ are the next items on the agenda, to do with theology and sexuality.

But the world is not coming to an end, and the sky is not falling in, for in the Church it was ever thus. Read the letters to the seven churches in the book of Revelation, and you’ll find false teaching and teachers, syncretism, immorality and compromise aplenty.

Yet always the call to repentance is addressed to the church: ‘He who has an ear to hear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.’ And always there is also the promise to the faithful hearer in those same churches, however corrupted they may be: ‘To him who overcomes, I will ...’

Certainly things are looking bad, but they have never been very good. This would not be the first time the Church of England has deliberately opted against compromise at the expense of losing members and ministers (remember the Great Ejection?). As to embracing theological error, this is the Church of England we’re talking about, right? And yet, as a famous evangelical speaker once famously remarked, this is the church to which we choose to belong, so what must we think of the rest?

No, the disappointment in the past few months has not been from the revisionists, who stand in a long tradition of their own, but from those who regard themselves as the faithful remnant.

Let me start with the Anglo-Catholics, even though in many respects I disagree with their version of what the truth is.

The Anglo-Catholic movement as we know it began (correct me if I am wrong) with a protest at the state’s involvement in spiritual matters and a recall to a ‘primitive’ ecclesiology in the face of institutional compromise.

There was no expectation that the law-makers would come to the rescue of the faith delivered to the saints. On the contrary, there was a willingness to challenge, and even break, the law in the interests of upholding the faith. As to expecting the bishops to deliver the Church in its hour of peril, even whilst upholding the essential nature of the historic episcopate the early Anglo-Catholics were rather notorious for treating their own bishops with something close to contempt.

But where is that spirit today? Actually I have no doubt that the offer of the Anglican Ordinariate has done much to enfeeble, rather than strengthen, Anglo-Catholicism. But where are the men like Keble, to say nothing of those who were later imprisoned for their actions? We hear much from Anglo-Catholics about the Church not wanting them. Did Keble and his successors think the Church of England wanted them?

The Catholic movement did not get where it did by waiting for the Church to enact legislation to provide what it wanted. Yet today it has four dedicated bishops and a dozen or so sympathizers, hundreds of clergy, a multitude of buildings and a host of people. Why, then, is it so much on the back foot?

Now for the Evangelicals. Our problem is simply this: many of us don’t really want to be Church of England, and it shows. As a result, we’ve never organized ourselves to be an effective force within the institution. Instead, we’ve laughed at bishops and ploughed our own individual parish furrows. We’ve never had a vision for the Church of England, because we’ve never really had heart for it. Indeed, for some of us, the prospect of ‘ejection’ is greeted not with gloom but elation, confirming as it does all our prejudices.

Yet there are many things we could do, if only we would act together to do them. Here are just a few suggestions, old and new:

1. Passing Resolutions A and B and petitioning under the Episcopal Ministry Act of Synod 1993. Well, of course it’s a bit late now — but we could at least repent for the fact that we didn’t do it.

2. Giving As Partners. I’ve explained in a paper how it is entirely possible, and legal, to channel diocesan quota to parishes and ministries of your own choice without protest ‘quota capping’, thereby making the present system work in our favour. This was proposed years ago, yet outside our own diocese, where it worked quite well for a time, nothing was done.

3. Pulpit exchanges. Most of our congregation members have very little awareness of the ‘constituency’, which is largely an ‘old boy’ network of clergy. An exchange of preachers amongst ourselves would break down some of the barriers and create a sense of mutual belonging and awareness. Where are the invitations, though?

4. Re-emphasising the Thirty-nine Articles. I have just been reading J C Ryle’s Warnings to the Churches, and was impressed by how often he appealed to clergy not only to be aware of the Articles themselves (which in those days most of them were), but to urge them on their people. Today, however, even many so-called Conservative Evangelicals have little, if any, knowledge of the Articles.

5. Increasing our familiarity with the Prayer Book. The BCP is not perfect. It is, nevertheless, better than much of what is on offer today, and remains the liturgical ‘gold standard’ of the Church of England. We ought to know it, and make sure our people know it, and we should be aware of its doctrinal standpoints and the modern departures from them.

6. Re-affirming the Declaration of Assent. People accuse Evangelicals of compromising on the Declaration of Assent when it comes to the liturgy, and there is some truth in that. But even worse is the far more widespread compromise on doctrine that seems to be accepted as the Anglican norm. The Declaration of Assent is on our side.

More than all this, perhaps, every evangelical group in every place should be asking itself, ‘How can we strengthen evangelicalism in this diocese and how can we make our diocese more evangelical?’ The answer will always come down to money, ministry and doctrine. We just need to work out how to use them better.

We are not chickens, and the sky is not falling in. Let us then, by contrast, ‘quit ourselves like men’, stop flapping and start doing.

John P Richardson
8 August 2010

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Evangelicalism - not division but dilution?

I'm taking a break from the blog until the end of the month (OK it’s like giving up nicotine, but I’ll try).

However, to keep the interest alive, I want to mention a thought in relation to my earlier post on Evangelical unity, prompted by an e-mail someone sent me.

I’ll quote him in full:

In the late 19th century, Catholics were a rather small and persecuted group, although there were certainly differences over tactics and minor points, they were united in the essentials. Between the wars and immediately afterwards, as it was the most successful thing going in the church, it attracted, er, fellow-travellers. Until the 1950s and 1960s, if you saw a priest wearing vestments and reserving the Blessed Sacrament, that meant [a] certain view and certain teaching. As time has gone on, things have got diluted, Eucharistic vestments are worn by people who think they look nice but do not believe in the doctrine that goes with their use, and Affirming Catholicism has split off, not to mention other groupings..

When Evangelicals were united in the 60s and 70s, they were a powerful force, but when the movement grew and attracted fellow-travellers ………

I remember much the same happening to the Charismatic Movement. In the ’60s and early ’70s, it was a fringe movement with distinctive doctrines which you had to accept in order to belong. By the late ’70s we were all ‘Charismatics’. At the same time, the ‘second blessing’ doctrine and the virtual requirement of speaking in tongues had been toned down.

Alpha threatens no-one (well, almost no-one) and the Alpha ‘movement’ is mainstream. But the theologians now willing to associate with it include Rowan and Jane Williams and Jürgen Moltmann — people I suspect wouldn’t be insisting (as the Alpha course material does) that being filled with the Spirit is distinct from being a Christian who merely ‘has’ the Spirit. Hence Alpha charismatic theology has diluted and will dilute further — watch the St Mellitus* space.

Perhaps the reality is that as Evangelicalism became more acceptable, so more people were willing to self-identify with the movement who would not previously have done so, but whose theology was not that of the earlier, rigorous, Evangelicals.

Thus what took place amongst Evangelicals was not division but dilution.

Discuss (and I’ll try not to join in).

John Richardson
19 July 2010

*  Several key values mark out the training offered at St Mellitus: UNITY IN DIVERSITY: We work with all kinds of Christians and denominations within a generous orthodoxy, drawing on the great tradition of Christian theology through the centuries.

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