Christianity is a religion full of paradoxes—a fact Anglicans are keen to acknowledge. For instance, that the church is both open and closed. On the one hand, the church of Christ would seem to be open to all with very little needed to become a Christian. On the other hand, there is nothing more demanding than being a Christian: to be a Christian means to be called to perfection.
In Matthew 7, right after the command “judge not lest ye be judged” is issued, we are also commanded to keep what is holy from the dogs and not to cast our pearls before swine. Do not judge others but also know who is a dog or pig.
This thread runs throughout the Gospels and indeed the entire Bible. David was the lowly son of a shepherd and also the great king who danced naked in the street. Christ is the physician who sought out the lowly and came for the sinners, but also the man who never spent a night in the city, who constantly sought refuge in the mountains, and who gathered around himself 12 lowly disciples whom he called to perfection.
This paradox dictates the shape of the church and defines our membership in the body of Christ. No one is to be turned away, but Christians have to be faithful to the Christian way of life. Mature Christians seeking their perfection in Christ have a duty to keep membership in their church open to anyone but at the same time they must not obscure the way upward for the sake of avoiding offense. It may be hard to believe, but only churches where the leadership is “disciplined” or “unbending” are equipped to be truly open because only these kinds of churches are able to minister to the “lowly” without becoming compromised. In a way, the most Christ-like approach is to be perfect in holiness with an able tongue that can confound critics, to have an “inner core” of disciples, and to call the lowly and the powerful to repentance. A “Christ like” church will have these three things.
Be that as it may, I do not believe there is a foolproof or scripturally demanded “institutional mechanism” to protect and promote the Christian way of life. Someone could reasonably take issue with my “Christ like” model of communion. Arguably, there are a variety of ways a Christian communion could organize itself, so long as the Christian way of life isn’t compromised.
Aside from a few things like male leadership and the revelation that where two or three are gathered Christ is there, we have no commands to run our communions in this or that way, only Apostolic example. And even with the few relatively clear commands, modern readers of the Bible often dismiss them. Modern readers like to dismiss Paul’s “misogynist” commands as conditioned by historical context rather than a divine ordinance applicable to us today. Some Christians would call Paul’s teachings sinful if they were allowed to do so. And these kinds of things happen in every denomination, even when the denomination formally affirms inerrancy. Which is a way of saying there is no “guarantee” this side of Heaven that any particular communion will last forever. Indeed, as with all finite things, the opposite is likely the case, that every communion, no matter how thoughtful its doctrines and constitution eventually fail. But that the body of Christ never dies. New communions will forever spring up embodying the true way.
Saying your communion is secure and true because it anchors itself in tradition or the inerrant word of God is good only insofar as it is true. Setting down in a church constitution that all members or leaders of a church communion must be “orthodox” does not guarantee anything. A constitution upholds a way of life so long as the men trying to live up to their constitution understand it, embrace it, and embody it.
The same is true with taking the Bible as the only rule and faith. No creed but the Bible communions depend on shared, if informal, interpretation and are, therefore, as prone to fracture as more confessional communions. Dedication to inerrancy does not solve this issue. Humanly speaking, communions, like all institutions, are only as good as men make them, and endure only as long as men act well. No institution is especially graced such that it is immune to fractures and failures. This is inherently acknowledged by all communions, otherwise we would see a lot more of them select leadership by lot.
The fact is that all Christian communions must bend every nerve to discipline and educate men in the true way; each communion must do this for the salvation of their souls as well as the integrity of the communion. Let there be helps, by all means. In overly democratic times Christian communions should interpose their sacred traditions between Christ’s truth and the tumults of the times. In overly oligarchic times, let Christian communions speak the truth without reverence to hoary traditions. All that matters is the true way.
Just as the American founders set down virtue as necessary for politics, and our constitutional mechanisms as “auxiliary precautions,” so too let our Christian communions embrace and form constitutions as “auxiliary precautions” to their paramount task of educating and disciplining men in the divine Gospel. Let Christians rely on the Book of Common Prayer and Westminster Confession of Faith. Let us oppose the Thirty-Nine Articles to egalitarian machinations among “thought leaders” and wayward seminaries. Not all auxiliary precautions are equal and these and such like them, being made by thoughtful godly men, are time-tested and good for education and discipline in the way of Scripture.
The Book of Common Prayer is a document born clearly aware of the paradox I speak of. The reason such a book is given is because the Anglican church opens itself to all, and expects that just about everyone welcomed into the church is in need of very clear guidance in many matters. Whereas other denominations assume that men need less guidance, the Anglican church assumes they need (or at least could use) more.
I conclude with a reflection on the Christian paradoxes. There is often an attempt to “solve” them, which is a mistake. The central paradox, that Jesus was fully God and fully Man does not allow us to “speak consistently.” Christ died, and he didn’t die. Christ knew everything that was going to happen. Christ didn’t know what was going to happen. Christ knew everyone’s thoughts. Christ didn’t know everyone’s thoughts. Christ was God with unending power. Christ was a man exasperated by his disciples. Any attempt to pretend like there is a “half-way” point where “both makes sense” does violence to the truth of the matter. The hypostatic union is a mystery of faith.
Just so in the matter I focused on in this essay. Christians are called to serve if not identify with the most wretched sinners. Christians are called to live lives of unparalleled purity and avoid any company that compromises their faithfulness. Attempts at synthesizing these are ultimately distorting. The only thing that can be done is to do both. I only point out that no life or communion can be called “Christian” that compromises the true way and allows men to assimilate to the world. The most open Christian communion can be open precisely because of the strength found in the leaders and most dedicated members.
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