Musings on Grace

A couple of days ago I posted a question, brought up during my preparation of a sermon on Deuteronomy 9. The question ‘compared and contrasted’ two statements about salvation, one from the Rt Revd Tom Wright, the other from the Thirty-nine Articles.

Wright says, in clarification of his position on final salvation,

... by the Spirit those who are already justified by faith have their lives transformed, and the final verdict will be in accordance with that transformation, imperfect though it remains.

Article XI, ‘Of the Justification of Man’, says,

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 ...

Wright’s own position, as I understand it, depends a lot on Romans 2 — that and an understanding that ‘justification’ is focussed on ‘being’ rather than ‘becoming’ a member of the people of God.

As I’ve said, however, I was studying Deuteronomy 9, not Romans 2, and sometimes narrative sheds light on things when we are finding the ‘doctrinal’ passages more difficult — and not just for us but for the first protagonists.

Thus I believe that Paul’s theology of grace rested ultimately on his Damascus road experience, and no matter what other factors he took into account, he knew that he was shown mercy when he was actually in the middle of persecuting Christ. He was not a seeker, or a well-doer, but an enemy of God (albeit not in his own mind!). This, then, was the fundamental meaning of the ‘grace of God’ to him.

Similarly, though, Israel was often reminded of the encounter with God at Mt Sinai (indeed, this is the general subject of the opening chapters of Deuteronomy). But what happened there was also an illustration of grace, as Deuteronomy 9 shows.

Having been told that they are about to go in and possess the land, they receive this solemn reminder from Moses:

... do not say to yourself, “The Lord has brought me here to take possession of this land because of my righteousness.” No, it is on account of the wickedness of these nations that the Lord is going to drive them out before you. It is not because of your righteousness or your integrity that you are going in to take possession of their land ... (Dt 9:4-5)

The lesson would seem clear: Israel is being given the land “not for [her] own workings or deservings”.

But there is more — much more! For what is the condition of Israel at Sinai and since then?

In ‘Wrightian’ terms, I take it, Israel is ‘justified’ — this is ‘the people of God’, without a shadow of a doubt. When he talks to ‘his people’ he talks to them. But what are they like? In v 8, Moses tells them:

At Horeb you aroused the Lord’s wrath so that he was angry enough to destroy you.

And from vv 9-12, Moses reminds them why. Whilst he was up the mountain receiving the Ten Commandments, they were making the Golden Calf, committing the very sin that the whole encounter with God so far had warned them against (cf 4:12,15-18).

In response, God’s words to Moses could hardly be more stark:

I have seen this people, and they are a stiff-necked people indeed! Let me alone, so that I may destroy them and blot out their name from under heaven. (Dt 9:13)

So this is the condition of the ‘justified’ people of God in Deuteronomy: resistant to correction (that is the meaning of ‘stiff-necked’), and worthy of utter and complete destruction (just like the nations who are being driven out because of their ‘wickedness’).

Israel’s lack of ‘righteousness’ (vv 4-5) is not a former condition which has changed now that they have been brought to God as Sinai. Nor is not something that lay outside the Covenant relationship. On the contrary, it persists even beyond Sinai. As Moses says in 9:22-24,

You also made the Lord angry at Taberah, at Massah and at Kibroth Hattaavah. ²³ And when the Lord sent you out from Kadesh Barnea, he said, “Go up and take possession of the land I have given you.” But you rebelled against the command of the Lord your God. You did not trust him or obey him. ²⁴ You have been rebellious against the Lord ever since I have known you.

This is the constant condition of God’s covenant people. Moses tells them, they were worthy of destruction then and they are worthy of destruction now. Compare this with what an important Qur’anic verse says about ‘God’s people’:

You are the best of peoples [or the best nation] ever raised up for mankind. You enjoin what is right, forbid what is wrong, and believe in Allah [God]. (3:110)

That is surely the natural way to think about the people God would choose — not necessarily perfect, but certainly the best in the sense of ‘better than all the rest’.

But we must simply ask, is that the message Moses gives to Israel? The answer is surely a resounding ‘No’. To them, God says (via Moses), “You are worthy of destruction, like all the rest. Indeed you are if anything worse — a ‘stiff-necked’ people resistant to correction, who never change, despite what happens to you.”

Israel is, by nature, a ‘covenant breaking’ nation, hence the symbolism of the broken tablets (9:17)

So why does God not destroy them? Deuteronomy 9 gives four reasons.

First, there is an effective intercessor. Moses recounts how he prayed for the nation and for Aaron for “forty days and forty nights”, and how the Lord listened to him (9:18-10).

Secondly, sin is decisively dealt with. Moses took “that sinful thing of yours” and utterly destroyed it (v 21).

But it was not finished there.

Thirdly, Moses appealed to the Covenant with the Patriarchs: “Remember your servants, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob” (v 27).

Fourthly, he appealed to God’s own glory and honour:

Otherwise, the country from which you brought us will say, ‘Because the Lord was not able to take them into the land he had promised them, and because he hated them, he brought them out to put them to death in the desert.’ (v 28)

And hence he is able to say, finally,

But they are your people, your inheritance that you brought out by your great power and your outstretched arm. (v 29)

This is the grace of God shown in Deuteronomy. In the nature of Old Testament narrative, it is laid out ‘sequentially’ and in detail so that we get the point. But the point is that this ‘wicked and evil’ people is God’s people, not because of their own ‘righteousness or uprightness of heart’ before or since the making of the Covenant, but purely because of God’s grace and the provision of an intercessor, the destruction of sin, the formation of a Covenant with others and the upholding of God’s own honour.

It is this people that God gave the land to possess.

All that remains to observe is that if that is the case with ‘God’s people’ then, it is surely the case with ‘God’s people’ now. God does not look for a righteousness or uprightness of heart in us as the basis of his giving us the kingdom. We too have an intercessor for sin: “Christ Jesus ... is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us” (Rom 8:34). We too have had our sins dealt with decisively: “[Christ] cancelled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us ... nailing it to the cross” (Col 2:14). We too receive God’s grace because of a Covenant with ‘another’: “This cup is the New Covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you” (Lk 22:20). And in all this, God acts for his own honour and glory: “In love [God] predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will— to the praise of his glorious grace” (Eph 1:4-6).

Thus we must surely say to ourselves, as God said to Israel, “It is not because of your righteousness or your integrity”, either before or since we were made his Covenant people. On the contrary, we too are “a stiff-necked people”, not better than the rest of mankind.

Yet like Israel, it is also said of us:

... they are your people, your inheritance that you brought out by your great power and your outstretched arm.

Sola gratia, sola dei gloria — grace alone, and to the glory of God alone!

John Richardson
9 August 2011

(All quotations from The Holy Bible: New International Version 1996, c1984 (electronic ed.) Grand Rapids: Zondervan)

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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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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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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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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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What is 'the whole church'?

Yesterday I was at a meeting of the Church of England Evangelical Council which was addressed by, amongst others, two self-confessed evangelical bishops. Part of the purpose of the meeting was to seek better understanding over the rôle of bishops and to increase confidence between the evangelical constituency and the bishops themselves. What follows, therefore, is written in the spirit of trying to clarify and elucidate, rather than to ‘knock’.

In addressing the meeting, one of the bishops took pains to say early on that it had to be understood that he was a bishop to “the whole church”. This phrase is, I notice, also being used with reference to selecting and training candidates for the ordained ministry — it is emphasised that they have to see themselves as, and be equipped to be, ministers to the ‘whole church’.

It has to be said, however, that the hearts of many evangelicals sink precisely at this point, and that is because the concept of the ‘whole church’ can be understood in two quite different ways.

The phrase can simply mean ‘the church as it is, without favouritism’. And in this sense, it is fairly unexceptionable. The evangelical tradition clearly does embrace the ‘whole’ Church of England, and a bishop cannot, therefore, simply focus on evangelicals, even if he is one himself.

However, there is second sense in which the phrase may be used, which shades into the first, but which actually entails quite a different, and far more problematic, set of assumptions. And this is when it means ‘the church as it is, without distinction’.

In the first case, the Church of England is understood inclusively, embracing people of different styles, practices and even understandings, who are recognized as both Anglicans and Christians, despite their differences. However, that is not necessarily the same thing as may be implied in the second case, which could refer to the Church of England indiscriminately, as embracing people whatever their styles, practices and understandings.

As I have said, the two meanings are not entirely distinct. Nevertheless, behind them lie two quite different core assumptions about the meanings not only of the word ‘whole’ but the word ‘church’.

What, then, should we mean by ‘church’? Today there seems to be a lot of support for the idea that the ‘church’ is simply ‘the community of the baptized’ and that, furthermore, it is to be identified by people gathering together at the Lord’s Table. This is often described in terms of being ‘inclusive’, but I would want to argue that it is better described as being ‘indiscriminate’ — and that in the dictionary sense of being ‘without careful judgement’.

It is here, however, that the Thirty-nine Articles come to our aid, for they in fact give us a definition of the ‘visible church’ — the church with which we actually have to deal, rather than any abstract or idealized ‘true’ church of ‘genuine’ believers. Article XIX defines the church as follows:

The visible Church of Christ is a congregation of faithful men, in the which the pure Word of God is preached and the sacraments be duly ministered according to Christ’s ordinance in all those things that of necessity are requisite to the same.

Notice, however, that although this deals with the ‘visible’, actual, church, it does not ignore the question of individual faith. On the contrary, the “visible Church” is “a congregation of faithful men”, or in Latin “coetus fidelium”.

Now it has rightly been observed (by Paul Avis amongst others) that coetus refers to something wider than the local, ‘parochial’, congregation. However, it would be quite wrong to limit its sense to the diocese, which Avis attempts to argue is the true ‘local church’. Rather, we should take it as meaning a ‘community’, in the biblical sense of the ‘congregation of Israel’ (cf Ex 16:10, Vulgate).

An equally suitable translation of the phrase would then be “a community of the faithful”. However, this also means that the visible Church is not simply a gathering of the baptized. If that were so, we could (theoretically) go round our parishes gathering together a selection of those who were baptized as infants and have never darkened the doorstep of the church since, and say, “See, here is the visible church.”

The clear implication of Article XIX, however, is that the church is visible where there is something to see — and this is brought out further by the references to “the pure Word of God” and to “the sacraments ... duly ministered according to Christ’s ordinance”. And this visibility is indeed manifested in the local (parochial) congregation, for that (rather than in diocesan or larger gatherings) is actually where people assemble and where the word is preached and where the sacraments are administered. But although no church (in either sense) is perfect, and many churches are quite imperfect, we may conclude that the church is increasingly visible to the extent that these conditions are met: that the sacraments are duly ministered, that the pure Word of God is preached and that we find a community of the faithful.

When a bishop refers to ministering to “the whole church”, then, this ought to take into account the faithfulness of the community, the quality of the preaching, and the manner of the administration of baptism and holy communion (as those sacraments “ordained of Christ our Lord in the Gospel”, Article XXV, whose ministering can therefore be “according to Christ’s ordinance”, Article XIX).

To the extent that faith, preaching and the proper ministration of the sacraments are missing, to that extent we can rightly say that there is no visible church — and perhaps no church at all — even if the building may be full, the choir outstanding and the clergy busy.

This is further underlined by Article XXVI, which notes that,

... in the visible Church the evil be ever mingled with the good, and sometime the evil have chief authority in the ministration of the word and sacraments ...

On the one hand, this recognizes precisely the point acknowledged above, that the ‘visible’ church is not the ‘perfect’ church, for that is both unattainable and unknowable in this world. However, it also affirms a point sometimes scarcely acknowledged when modern Anglicans consider the nature of the church, namely that the church is not just a mixture of styles and outlooks but of the good and the evil, which therefore calls for action.

Thus when a bishop speaks of ‘the whole church’, he must not only look for the visible signs of the church, but he must also, as an expression of his episcopal office, look to encourage the good and redress the evil, so that the church becomes progressively more visible.

None of this is to overlook or deny what Article XXVII says about baptism:

Baptism is not only a sign of profession and mark of difference whereby Christian men are discerned from other that be not christened, but is also a sign of regeneration or new birth, whereby, as by an instrument, they that receive baptism rightly are grafted into the Church ...

Baptism must be regarded as ‘instrumental’, in the sense of conferring what it speaks about of the promises and grace of God, otherwise it is merely an empty gesture. But baptism is ‘rightly’ received only by those who (if necessary, when they come of age), “renounce the devil and all his works, and constantly believe God's holy Word, and obediently keep his commandments”. In other words, baptism grafts into the ‘community of the faithful’ only those who receive by faith what baptism confers.

If it could be agreed between evangelical bishops and the evangelical constituency that ‘the whole church’ was a reference to a community where we could expect to see faithfulness in manner of life and in the preaching of God’s pure Word, then there would undoubtedly be greater confidence between the constituency and those from their number who are now on the episcopal bench.

John Richardson
9 June 2010

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Fans of the Thirty-nine Articles

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"A group for members of the Church of England, and the worldwide Anglican Communion, who think the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion published in 1562 are a great summary of the core doctrines which reformed the Church of England then and which ought to be at the foundation of its teaching and preaching today."


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No sects please, we’re Anglicans

When I first heard a few years ago the proposal advanced at our Diocesan Synod in Chelmsford that the Episcopal Ministry Act of Synod 1993 should be abolished, I genuinely felt a cold chill. This was not because it presaged the arrival of women as bishops. Rather, it was because it heralded the potential end of the Church of England as I knew, and loved, it.

I argued then, and I am convinced now, that such a move would give the Church of England the character of a sect, by introducing preciseness of belief and practice in this one area, in a way comparable to nothing else that has recently been discussed or debated.

This was brought home to me by the recent experience of a friend who is being interviewed for possible ordination. One of his interviewers asked him what he thought about women bishops. My friend answered that personally he disagreed with it, but that the Church of England allowed for different points of view.

“Oh no,” said the interviewer, “That only applies to people who were ordained in the past. Everyone coming in now will have to accept women bishops. There will be no provision for those who don’t.”

Now this is interesting, and it relates directly to the question of what sort of church the Church of England is — or intends to be.

As the Manchester Report observed, the introduction of women bishops without acceptable provision for those who cannot agree with this (acceptable, that is, to those with the reservations) would change the very nature of the Church by narrowing its membership where previously it had maintained some breadth.

Now there is, perhaps, something to be said for narrowing, if not the membership of the Church of England, certainly the range of those admitted to its ministry. Is it acceptable, for example, to have clergy who doubt the physical resurrection of Jesus, who reject the Virgin birth, or dispute the ‘reality’ of God? Such do exist, though one hopes that these days they would not get past the selection process.

But are there not other areas where, whilst the Church has standards, it also, rightly, has flexibility? The heart of the Church of England’s official doctrinal position is admirable, at least from a Protestant perspective:

The Church hath power to decree Rites or Ceremonies, and authority in Controversies of Faith: and yet 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. Wherefore, although the Church be a witness and a keeper of holy Writ, yet, as it ought not to decree anything against the same, so besides the same ought it not to enforce any thing to be believed for necessity of Salvation. (Article XX)

Yes, the Church of England can declare a position on a controverted issue of Christian belief. But it has disqualified itself from doing so in any way that is either directly contradictory to the Bible, or which relies on artificially setting one part of the Bible against another. And it cannot therefore require people to go against biblical teaching.

Now of course the problem on women’s ordination is that there are, until now, loyal Anglicans who believe that Scripture stands in the way of consecrating women as bishops. Moreover, the Church of England has not, as far as I am aware, decided that the issue is settled against them. That is to say, it has not declared that their take on the Bible is a misunderstanding (remember that we are still, officially, in the ‘period of reception’ on this issue).

However, it does seem now prepared to say that, nevertheless, you can only be a full member of the Church of England, eligible for its ministry, if you take one view on this and not the other.

In other words, it is prepared to narrow its membership not at a point of settled biblical doctrine, but at a point of hitherto-disputed practice.

Moreover, it is choosing a slightly bizarre point at which to do this. My friend, for example, is a committed ‘Thirty-nine Articles’ Anglican. He is an enthusiast for parish work, and is entirely positive about the structures that this entails, up to and including recognizing the office of the bishop. That is actually why this matters to him!

But what if he, and his like, are unacceptable for Anglican ministry? If that is the case, then in future, the key definition of a ‘full’ Anglican will be that you accept women bishops. That will become our litmus test, for you will apparently be able to accept all the former definitions of Anglicanism, but if you will not accept this then you will not henceforth be as welcome.

To me —and this was my worry all those years ago —this no longer looks like what I have tried to maintain that the Church of England should be: the Church, of England, as close as we can possibly maintain it to the ideal of the one, undivided, Church Christ intends.

Imposing women bishops without due provision for opponents will, undoubtedly, divide the Church of England. All sides, I think, recognize this. Moreover, it will divide it at a point which will, henceforth, become definitive, and yet which the proponents do not argue is the settled sense of Scripture. When people ask, in future years (as they ask me now about differences between denominations) what is it that divides the Church of England from whatever offshoot body this creates, will we have to answer, “Well, it’s really just about women bishops”? And will that make us proud?

For the sake of preventing that situation, I think the present moves ought to be resisted.

Revd John Richardson
15 February 2010

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Which of our bishops are guarding the gates?

Back in the mid-1980s, I was at St Helen’s Bishopsgate for the Evangelical Ministry Assembly at which the Revd Phillip Jensen gave a rollicking series of talks on ‘A Ministry that Changes the Church’.

Certainly these talks changed me, for they restored my lost confidence in parish ministry. However, there was one thing in what he said which has, I think, been very unhelpful for the church in this country, and that was his memorable use of the phrase, “Bishops are deacons and priests are bishops.”

It is not the second part of this phrase that bothers me. There is a widespread acknowledgement, going back to Archbishop Cranmer and beyond, that the ‘presbuteroi’ (for which read ‘priests’) of the New Testament church can be identified with the ‘episkopoi’ of the same (for which read ‘bishops’). And in a world where priests are being expected to become ‘managers’ of groups of parishes, their office is (or ought to be) becoming more consciously ‘episcopal’.

No, the problem lies in the first statement: “Bishops are deacons”, which Phillip argued on the basis that they spend most of their time on ‘admin’, like a deacon, and almost none on preaching, teaching and evangelism, which is the ‘front line’ work of the church (as, I would suggest, the Apostles understood things in Acts 6).

Understandably, the line played very well to a Conservative Evangelical audience. It was what we wanted to hear, and it was true to our experience. Nevertheless, I believe it has left a dangerous legacy, not least because it is so memorable. Thus I continue to hear the same view asserted in the same circles, yet I look around the world —indeed, I look at Sydney itself —and I see remarkable things happening where there is effective episcopal leadership.

Virtually all of these examples come from overseas, I am sorry to say. But there is one area even in England where the work of a bishop is unique and powerful in its effects, and that is in being the gatekeeper for the church’s ministry. It is the bishops who, in the Church of England, are those who, as Article XXIII carefully puts it, “have public authority given unto them in the congregation to call and send ministers into the Lord’s vineyard.”

It is therefore the bishops’ responsibility to make sure that these ministers are suitable for the job. At their ordination as priests, the bishop is to ask the archdeacon, presenting the candidates, whether they have been examined as to the soundness of their learning and the godliness of their manner of life —and the archdeacon is to answer in the affirmative!

The question that must be asked, however, is whether this is happening — or to put it another way, whether the necessary questions are being asked.

This is very important when we consider the way ahead for the Church of England at this present time. Since October, it is certain that it will lose some of its most ardent traditionalist Anglo-Catholics. Meanwhile, the ‘evangelicals’ are so divided amongst themselves that the word has ceased to have much use. (I have heard just recently that one evangelical patronage society is now requiring candidates to affirm explicitly that they will teach the traditional view of human sexuality, having been caught out on more than one occasion by appointees who subsequently did not.)

Meanwhile, it is also certain that at some stage in the near future the church will have women bishops, and although this is supported by some within even the traditionalist evangelical camp, it is strongly advocated by the liberals, from whose ranks many of the women bishops will undoubtedly be drawn.

In the face of this, I have been advocating that traditionalists should orientate not around a redefined evangelicalism or a renewed catholicism, but around a reasserted Anglicanism, which takes full advantage of the ‘privileging’ in the Canons and in law of the doctrines of Scripture expressed in the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion, the Book of Common Prayer and the Ordinal. (This is not, incidentally, to ignore the teachings of the ancient Fathers and the Councils of the Church, to which reference is also made in Canon A5. But those sources are complex and require a considerable breadth of reading, as well as discernment as to what is, indeed, a teaching agreeable to the scriptures, whereas the Articles, Prayer Book and Ordinal are succinct and readily available, not least in many of our parish churches. It is, moreover, the Articles, Prayer Book and Ordinal which give the Church of England its uniqueness, through those things which, as the Prayer Book itself says, apply “to our own people only”.)

This strategy, however, admits of a certain risk. It would involved, for example, acknowledging that as per the spirit of Article XXXVI, those women who are ordained as deacons and priests or consecrated as bishops are to be deemed “rightly, orderly, and lawfully consecrated or ordered.”

The ‘trade off’ is that all the Church’s deacons, priests and bishops abide by the spirit and letter of Canon A5. And if their knowledge of the fathers and the councils is not all it might be, they at least be committed to the positions on the teachings of Scripture expressed in the Articles, Prayer Book and Ordinal.

For that to happen, however, questions must be asked, and satisfactory answers must be given according to this standard. And this is where the bishops come in —or ought to, for I am left wondering just who is taking on this responsibility.

Personally, I have never, ever, been examined as to what I believe by any bishop. Nor is it clear to me what standards, if any, our bishops apply via their supervision of theological education, other than a broad-brush belief in ‘God and Jesus’. Certainly when one looks at the teaching programmes of the various colleges and courses, both for clergy and for laity, the one thing that becomes clear is that nothing is clear when it comes to what the Church of England expects people to believe.

If the bishops are acting as the gatekeepers, it seems that the gate is very wide and the path very broad that leads to Anglican orders.

When I look at the Church of England today, I am reminded of the classic line by Walter Sobchak in The Big Lebowski: “Smokey, this is not ’Nam. This is bowling. There are rules.” The trouble is, the rules are being freely ignored on all sides. The catholics, and to some extent the evangelicals, ignore the liturgical rules; the evangelicals want to, and in some cases do, ignore the boundary rules; the liberals ignore the doctrinal rules. And the inevitable result is that what finally matters is power, and the power to enforce the rules upheld by those in power.

Thus we have a situation where many who are liberal in their convictions nevertheless want bishops to be thoroughly ‘catholic’ in their orders, appealing to the church Fathers regarding the nature and function of episcopacy, but entirely ignoring the Fathers when it comes to what bishops should believe, or require of their clergy that they should believe.

If there is to be some regaining of Anglican coherence, there needs to be some quid pro quo on those things which Anglicanism says defines Anglicanism. This does not need to be a rigid ‘work to rule’ approach. Indeed, those with any memory of this particular concept know that it was used precisely to stop any work being done. There needs to be a recognition of the difference between ‘core’ concepts and ‘peripheral’ matters —something which cannot be left to the lawyers. The problem is that, in terms of present discipline, it is the peripherals (namely ‘administrative’ rules) which are often treated as ‘core’ what should be at the core (namely faith and morals) which is treated as peripheral.

Addressing this is the challenge which I would argue faces the Church of England generally, and the ‘traditionalists’ within it particularly, since we are the ones who have lost most, and who have most further to lose, under the present arrangements.

Meanwhile, I would be interested to hear from contributors of their experiences of episcopal ‘gatekeeping’, where they themselves have been required to give an account of their beliefs to their bishop, and to show that they are abiding in doctrinal orthodoxy within the boundaries established by the Anglican formularies. Feel free to name names that should be on the episcopal wall of fame!

John Richardson
17 November 2009

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Goodbye Church of England, hello Church of Europe?

It is a little-understood feature of Anglican theology that the relationship between the Church of England and the Queen is not entirely unique.

This is because the principle that the Queen is the Church’s ‘Supreme Governor’ depends not on the nature of the Church of England, but on the nature of the Queen’s rule. Article 37 deserves careful reading in this regard:

Where we attribute to the King’s Majesty the chief government, by which Titles we understand the minds of some slanderous folks to be offended; we give not to our Princes the ministering either of God’s Word or of the Sacraments, the which thing the Injunctions also lately set forth by Elizabeth our Queen do most plainly testify; but that only prerogative, which we see to have been given always to all godly Princes in holy Scriptures by God himself; that is, that they should rule all estates and degrees committed to their charge by God, whether they be Ecclesiastical or Temporal, and restrain with the civil sword the stubborn and evil-doers. (Emphasis added)

Three things should be noted. First, the powers attributed to the monarch are given by God, not designated by the Church. It is only required of the Church, therefore, to recognize those powers. Secondly, the powers of the monarch apply to all ‘estates and degrees’ under their rule, without exception. Any and every institution is governed by the monarch. Thirdly, this includes the Church of England, but applies equally to every ‘Ecclesiastical or Temporal’ body. According to this understanding, the Queen is thus ‘Supreme Governor’ of the mosques, the gurdwaras, the synagogues, the Baptist chapels, and yes, even the Roman Catholic Church in these islands.

Properly speaking, then, The Episcopal Church in the United States is the Church of America, whose Supreme Governor is Barack Obama (it matters not one whit that church and state are separated in law), the Supreme Governor of the Church of Nigeria is Umaru Yar’Adua, and so on, in just the same way as the Queen is Supreme Governor of the Church of England (indeed, in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, England is generally italicized in such a context).

Or rather, it might be more accurate to say ‘was the Supreme Governor, up until recently’. For the reality is that, even in terms of a constitutional monarchy, she is no longer the supreme governor. That power now lies somewhere else, and since it does, the Church of England becomes, de facto, subject to that power and authority. It may be geographically still in England, but it is not the same as before.

One of the key ‘building blocks’ of the Henrician Reformation was the 1533 Act in Restraint of Appeals, the opening paragraph of which read as follows:

Where by divers sundry old authentic histories and chronicles it is manifestly declared and expressed that this realmof England is an empire, and so hath been accepted in the world, governed by one supreme head and king ... etc.

This principle, together with the older Statute of Praemunire, was the basis on which it was declared in the Act (to the clergy specifically) that all legal cases,

... shall be ... heard, examined, discussed, clearly, finally and definitively adjudged and determined within the King’s jurisdiction and authority, and not elsewhere ...

Now of course, this has not applied for some considerable time in these islands. As far as I can determine (though I am happy to be corrected), the Statute of Praemunire was repealed by the Criminal Law Act of 1967. (I vaguely recall that Enoch Powell was one of the few MPs to draw attention to the enormous significance this might have.)

However, with the passing of the Lisbon Treaty, commentators are now recognizing that we are in a radically different situation regarding our own sovereignty. Indeed, it is clear that absolute sovereignty, of the kind conceived in the days of Henry and beyond, no longer applies.

The fundamental question, then, is whether the Queen is still the ‘Supreme Governor’ of England, via her ministers in Parliament. Of course she is in a ‘sentimental’ way —but is she in political reality? If she is not, then she is no longer the Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

And this outcome is not a matter for debate if the political realities have changed. At his trial, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer was forced to admit that in the times of the Apostles, the earthly ‘head’ of the Church was the emperor Nero. Why? Because in that capacity, he beheaded the Apostles, who had to submit to his authority (following Romans 13).

We are therefore in the curious situation where the Church of England might theologically more properly be called the Church of Europe. Even more worryingly given the possible outcome of the appointment of the EU President, we may be about to see Tony Blair about to become, in effect, its Supreme Governor.

Revd John P Richardson
7 November 2009

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The Thirty-nine Articles and the Church

(Ed: In an effort to keep the ball rolling on the subject of Anglicanism as a theological system, I thought I'd reprint the following, which was a talk given to an evening meeting of our own congregations a couple of years ago.)

Introduction 

That the Thirty-nine Articles were designed to benefit both the church and the state by settling religious disputes is evident from the Royal Declaration of 1562:

Being by God’s Ordinance, according to Our just Title, Defender of the Faith, and Supreme Governour of the Church, within these Our Dominions, We hold it most agreeable to this Our Kingly Office, and our own religious Zeal, to conserve and maintain the church committed to Our Charge, in Unity of true Religion, and in the Bond of Peace; and not to suffer unnecessary Disputations, Altercations, or Questions to be raised, which may nourish Faction both in the Church and Commonwealth.

That is the Anglican ideal, based on the model of church and state conceived at the English Reformation. There are to be no disputations, altercations and questions. Instead there is to be unity and the bond of peace, in state and in church.

The nature of the Church

But what is the Church? Article XIX tells us:

THE visible Church of Christ is a congregation of faithful men, in the which the pure Word of God is preached, and the Sacraments be duly ministered according to Christ’s ordinance in all those things that of necessity are requisite to the same.

Notice first, the reference to the visible Church, as distinct from the invisible Church. The invisible Church is the company of faithful believers known only to Christ. And indeed the Westminster Confession of 1647 began its definition of the Church there:

The catholic or universal Church, which is invisible, consists of the whole number of the elect ... [emphasis added]

But of course the membership of the invisible Church is known only to God, and the Articles leave that aside, concentrating only on the visible. And what is visible is the preaching of the Word of God and the ministering of the Sacraments according to Christ’s commands. Where you have those, you have the Church.

Church and diocese

But here we hit a modern political issue. In his book The Anglican Understanding of the Church, Paul Avis, who is a very influential writer in these matters, denies that Article 19 means that the local congregation is the fundamental unit of the Church.

He argues from the fact that the Latin version of this article refers to a coetus fidelium — an assembly of the faithful — which he says refers to “a national church made up of dioceses” (p77). He concludes,

The ‘local church’ in Anglican ecclesiology denotes ... the community of word and sacrament gathered, governed and led by the bishop. For Anglican ecclesiology , the ‘congregation’ in the strict sense is the diocese. (Avis op cit)

Not unnaturally, this conclusion has made Avis very popular amongst bishops, but whilst Avis is right in saying that the Article has a wider view than the local congregation, he is, I would argue, wrong to say it is the diocese.

Particular and national churches

The reason I believe he is wrong is because the Articles themselves don’t think of the Church in this way. The critical Article is 37, Of the Civil Magistrates, which says this:

THE King’s Majesty hath the chief power in this Realm of England, and other his Dominions, unto whom the chief Government of all Estates of this Realm, whether they be Ecclesiastical or Civil, in all causes doth appertain ...

The administrative boundary of the Church, within which its spiritual affairs are ordered, is not the diocese under the bishop, or even the province under the archbishop, but the nation, under the King, under God. Then, just as the civil administration is broken down into smaller units, so is the church’s administration broken down into dioceses and parishes. As Thomas Cranmer himself wrote,

The ministers of God’s word under his majesty be the bishops, parsons, vicars, and such other priests as be appointed by his highness to that ministration: as for example, the bishop of Canterbury, the bishop of Duresme, the bishop of Winchester, the parson of Winwick, &c. All the said officers and ministers, as well of the one sort as of the other, be appointed, assigned, and elected in every place, by the laws and orders of kings and princes. (‘Questions and Answers Concerning the Sacraments and the Appointment and Power of Bishops and Priests’ in Miscellaneous Writings and Letters of Thomas Cranmer, Ed J E B Cox [Cambridge: The Parker Society, 1846, reproduced by Regent College Publishing], 116, emphasis added)

Insofar as the word ‘local’ means ‘belonging to a particular place’, the smallest place the Church of England recognizes where the Word of God is preached and the Sacraments administered to the people of that place is thus the parish, not the diocese. In fact the Word of God is never preached to the people of a diocese, nor are the sacraments ministered ‘diocesanly’.

The understanding of the ‘particular’ Church as essentially national is seen in the second part of Article 19, which refers to Churches where, it would be presumed, the pure Word of God is not preached and the Sacraments not duly administered:

As the Church of Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Antioch, have erred; so also the Church of Rome hath erred, not only in their living and manner of Ceremonies, but also in matters of Faith.

The same thing is also reflected in Article 34, Of the Traditions of the Church. This explicitly recognizes that because of the variations in customs according to time and place

Every particular or national Church hath authority to ordain, change, and abolish, ceremonies or rites of the Church ...

According to the Articles, therefore, it is the national boundary which defines the organizational boundary of the Church.

Erastianism

And this is because the Articles work from a very specific understanding of society. According to the thinking behind the Articles, as shown in Article 37 Of the Civil Magistrates, authority in society devolves from God to the monarch and then to the other instruments of government. Indeed, this understanding, at its application, might arguably be seen as the Church of England’s unique contribution to the Reformation.

In essence, it is Romans 13:1 applied to the maximum: “The authorities that exist have been established by God.” Paul Avis calls it an Erastian paradigm, on the basis, as he puts it, that “it gives the state a rôle in spiritual oversight.” But Erastianism is generally thought of as a secular state controlling the Church, and that is not at all what the Articles have in mind. What they envisage is a godly Prince (Article 37) controlling both state and Church for the promotion of godly, Christian, living.

Without a doubt the arrangement between Church and State in England has become Erastian, and (almost) without a doubt the Church of England will eventually be disestablished. But we must not accuse the Articles of something they don’t in fact contain.

Authority

However, the relationship between Church and monarch envisaged by the Articles has massive implications for authority within the Church, which is the subject of Articles 20 and 21.

Article 20, Of the Authority of the Church, says first of all that the Church “hath power to decree Rites or Ceremonies”. But remember, this would apply on to a ‘particular or national Church’. It is not an individual power — that is denied in Article 34, because, in a godly state, the individual does not have such authority. That can come only from the monarch. So, according to that Article, if the individual does presume to “break the traditions and ceremonies of the Church” it not only offends the order of the Church, it challenges “the authority of the Magistrate”.

Authority in the congregation

And remember, again, according to Article 37, the authority of the magistrate is the monarch’s authority. However, the same principle applies to authority within the Church. The authority of the Church’s officers also derives from the monarch, as we can see in Article 23 Of Ministering in the Congregation.

This takes some unpacking. First, it says,

IT is not lawful for any man to take upon him the office of publick preaching, or ministering the Sacraments in the Congregation, before he be lawfully called, and sent to execute the same.

Notice, first of all, what this doesn’t say. It doesn’t say “Only priests have the power to celebrate communion.” The important word here is ‘lawful’ — it may be possible, but it is not lawful to preach and administer the Sacraments unless you have been lawfully called.

But who are we to recognize as lawfully called? The second part of the Article gives this answer:

And those we ought to judge lawfully called and sent, which be chosen and called to this work by men who have publick authority given unto them in the Congregation, to call and send Ministers into the Lord’s vineyard.

The lawfully called are those who have been called and sent by people who have been given public authority to call and send.

But who are they? The Articles do not say the bishops. In fact, the words bishop, priest and deacon are remarkably rare in the Articles and entirely absent here, where we might expect to see them.

The simplest and most obvious thing for Article 23 to have said would have been,

It is not lawful for any man to take upon him the office of public preaching or ministering the sacraments in the congregation, before he be ordained a deacon or priest by a bishop.

That is what happens in practice, so why is the language of Article 23 so convoluted? The answer is that we are talking about the authority of the Church, not the nature of the ministry. And at the back of this is actually the Lutheran, which was simply this:

Concerning ecclesiastical orders they teach that no man should publicly in the church teach or administer the sacraments unless he be rightly called. (The Augsburg Confession)

But of course for Luther, the local congregation could rightly call someone to the public office of teaching and administering the sacraments. Moreover, for Luther every Christian was able to do this by merit of being a Christian. The issue was only how someone might rightly be authorised to do it publicly, in the congregation.

The Anglican Articles started life at a time when the Church of England and the Lutheran churches were in negotiations to see if they could reach an agreement. And even after these negotiations broke down some features of Lutheran theology were allowed to remain, and this is one of them. Public ministry in the congregation is allowed to the person who is properly called. In England people who do the calling are the bishops. But who gives them not just the ecclesiastical office but the public authority to do this? The answer is, the monarch. It is the monarch who has the power to confer public authority on the bishops lawfully to call and send ministers into the Lord’s vineyard, because all public authority comes from the monarch.

We see this in the Homily against Rebellion which says this:

[Christ] and his holy Apostles likewise ... did forbid unto all Ecclesiastical ministers, dominion over the Church of Christ.

The important word there is dominion. According to the homily, Christ refused dominion over the Church. When the people came to make him king he fled because his kingdom was not of this world.

By contrast, though, God has,

... constituted, ordained, and set earthly Princes over particular Kingdoms and Dominions in earth ...

So dominion belongs to the monarch. But the monarch may delegate lawful authority to the officers of the Church, just as he does to the magistrate. And so the bishop, as the King’s officer, is given power to call and send ministers. But it is a limited power — limited by the fact that it depends on the monarch for its lawful authority in the public realm.

General Councils

This limitation of authority, though, is most spectacularly seen in Article 21, Of the Authority of General Councils, where it says this:

General Councils may not be gathered together without the commandment and will of Princes.

The reference to General Councils is those councils of the Church whose deliberations can be seen as binding on the whole Church, not just the particular or national church.

But the thinking behind the Article is very cautious about this, not least because such Councils can’t be guaranteed to get it right, as the second part of the Article says. So the authority of General Councils of the Church was limited in two ways. They couldn’t prescribe anything contrary to Scripture, and they couldn’t meet without the approval of the godly Princes, because those Princes had the responsibility for governing the national Churches under them.

The function of the Church 

So what can the Church do in its own right? The answer is, proclaim the Word of God, guard the faith and administer the Sacraments.

To do this Article 24 says the language used in the congregation should be one that the people understand. (Incidentally, contra Avis, the clear understanding here, when it talks about "public prayer in the Church", is that the Ecclesia is actually where people physically gather to hear God’s Word, to pray and to receive the Sacraments.)

It is allowed in Article 32 that bishops, priests and deacons may marry as they judge it will better serve to godliness.

Article 33 lays down that the Church may excommunicate people until they are received back by someone with appropriate authority.

Article 35 gives approval to the Homilies, which provided ready-made teaching material for those that couldn’t prepare their own.

Article 36 recognizes that the forms of consecration and ordination found in the Ordinal from the time of Edward VI are effective and lawful. The duties of a minister are laid out in that Ordinal. The details of Christian living are to be worked out in the day-to-day life of the Church. It remains only to remind ourselves that the Church, according to the articles, is made visible where there is true preaching and administration of the sacraments.

That is not only where the Church is, but that is where the Church is most visibly.

John P Richardson
31 October 2009

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