The post Queen of the Sciences: Recovering the Role of Theology in Classical Christian Education appeared first on The North American Anglican.
]]>In 1947, Dorothy Sayers delivered an address at Oxford University articulating a vision for the future of education. She began by enumerating the challenges that educators of her day were facing, challenges that may resonate with eerie familiarity for modern educators: they were inundated with prodigious responsibilities, both administrative and academic, and students were lacking a meaningful vision for the purpose of their education. They were simply exposed to a variety of disparate subjects and sent off into the world incapable of “disentangling fact from opinion and the proven from the plausible.”[1] As an antidote to what she perceived as the eroding state of education in her own context, Sayers proposed a retrieval of the medieval Trivium model of education. The Trivium was an educational paradigm that divided students’ education into three primary stages: Grammar, Dialectic, and Rhetoric. Each stage was characterized, according to Sayers’ representation of it, by an idiosyncratic learning mechanism that determined the mode in which content was conveyed. Thus, in the Grammar stage, or “Poll-Parrot” stage as Sayers titles it, the student was trained according to their predilection and penchant for rote memorization. As the Grammar years neared their conclusion, the student came to develop a capacity for abstract thinking and began to exercise their developed capacity for disputation, hence entering the Dialectic Stage. Learning at this Dialectic stage was characterized by the facilitation of debate and discussion—capitalizing on an innate argumentativeness in early adolescence—and students were tasked to comprehend the fundamentals of proper dialectic. Upon graduating from this middle stage of their education, students enrolled in the final stage of the Trivium: Rhetoric. It is there that students were trained in the arts of eloquence, poetics, and persuasion. Those materials they first memorized, then concretized through disputation, were now being deployed as material for winsome spoken and written presentation. This model, Sayers forcefully argued, cultivated an individual who, although not necessarily inheriting a breadth of content knowledge, was properly trained to rigorously scrutinize and encounter any discipline.[2]
Sayers bemoaned in her address that “It is in the highest degree improbable that the reforms I propose will ever be carried into effect.”[3] Unbeknownst to her, however, Douglas Wilson, inspired by her essay, would go on to establish the Logos school in Moscow, Idaho in 1981 upon the principles of The Lost Tools of Learning. After ten years of successful management of the Logos School, Wilson published a book titled Recovering the Lost Tools of Learning, which elucidated Sayers’ thesis, republished her essay, substantiated it with insights from other thinkers in educational theory, and published data that he interpreted as revealing the inadequate state of contemporary education. Following its publication, Wilson founded the Association for Classical Christian Schools and is credited with igniting the first wave of the Classical Christian movement in America.[4]
In Sayers’ original illustration of the Trivium model, she featured the study of theology centrally and prominently in the pedagogical scheme. Theology, she argued, serves as a unifying foundation and orienting principle for all levels of the Trivium. It is the discipline “without which the whole educational structure will necessarily lack its final synthesis.”[5] For the Grammar students, then, this means the memorization of key, concise theological material such as the creeds, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Decalogue. At the Dialectic Stage, Sayers emphasizes the need for “dogmatic theology (i.e. the rational structure of Christian thought)” to investigate the theological data memorized in the Grammar stage and serve as a unifying ethical foundation to furnish content for discussion across disciplines.[6] And in the Rhetoric stage, she posits the role of theology, the “Mistress-Science,” as the key for demonstrating to students that “all knowledge is one.”[7] This is the point at which a student’s education achieves its final synthesis in the recognition of the unity of truth in the being of God. No longer do academic disciplines exist alongside one another as disparate threads, but they are woven together into a tapestry of Divine insight.
Despite the robust role for theology according to Sayers’ illustration of the Trivium model, there is still much that remains vague regarding its nature and implementation. Consequently, when Douglas Wilson interprets and explicates Sayers’ vision, it is the contention of this paper that he misapprehends the role and nature of theology according to Sayers’ vision, since his implementation of theology cannot satisfy its explicit goals as portrayed in the Lost Tools of Learning. In misapprehending the role and nature of theology and also stimulating a major educational movement in the United States, Wilson has promulgated a deficient educational paradigm that is in need of correction. Thus, this paper will identify the alleged error in Wilson’s appropriation of theological education according to Sayers and posit an articulation of theological education that satisfies her original vision. Additionally, it will elucidate and expound upon the role of theology as intimated by Sayers
The Trivium model of education, as exposited by Sayers, is now commonly referred to as “Classical Christian education.” It exists within a broader movement of classical education that aspires to retrieve traditional pedagogical methodologies as a corrective for what they perceive as the deficiencies of modern education. It shares with other classical movements an emphasis upon entering the “Great Conversation” of the Western literary canon,[8] striving after wisdom as the goal of education,[9] and cultivating human excellence or virtue.[10] Through all these values, Classical Christian education and Classical education alike strive “to teach men how to learn for themselves.”[11] It is the cultivation of this fundamental skill that defines the academic endeavor, although key differences will emerge as a consequence of theology’s centrality in the Christian model. A Classical Christian education may be properly summarized, then, as a pedagogical paradigm, structured according to the medieval Trivium, that prioritizes the development of core learning skills and character formation primarily through the mechanisms of literature, language, and theology inherited through the traditions of Western Christendom. It strives after the cultivation of wisdom and virtue as defined by the philosophical and theological traditions emerging out of millennia of reading and interpreting Scripture in the Church. For the Classical Christian Institution, it ultimately desires for every student’s “knowledge of God, man, and creation to come to full flower in wisdom and for this wisdom to help [them] better love and serve [their] neighbor.”[12]
Aside from various usages of the appellation “Mistress-Science”, and one rather brief definition of theology as the “rational structure of Christian thought”, Sayers does not fully unpack what she means by “theology,” leaving room for misinterpretations of the term that can compromise her stated role of theology as being the synthesizer of the student’s education. It is the argument of this paper that this is exactly what Wilson has done, and thus it is necessary to properly clarify a definition that accords with the applications of theology as articulated by Sayers.
Theology is, essentially, “the study of God,”[13] but, upon deeper inspection, this still leaves plenty of space for disagreement. Many in the traditions of the Church have defined theology in a way that accords easily with Sayers’ brief definition, such as Orton Wiley’s definition that theology “sets forth in a systematic manner the doctrines of the Christian faith.”[14] Yet, some apply a deeper metaphysical reality to theology, as when Thomas Aquinas argued that “theology is taught by God, teaches of God, and leads to God.”[15] Thomas, additionally, insists that theology is “more speculative than practical,”[16] whereas Johann Gerhard argues the opposite in insisting that “it is ‘more practical’,”[17] and William Ames defines it as “the doctrine or teaching of living to God,” reinforcing this practical dimension.[18] Moreover, Anglican theologian Hans Boersma, argues forcefully that theology is “mystagogical in character,”[19] not relying upon speculation but upon “realities.”[20] Thus, theology is beatific, more akin to a “seeking of the face of God,” not simply explaining God, but drawing us “into the very mystery of His life,”[21] and making “men partakers of the divine nature.”[22]
For the sake of this paper, then, which strives to establish a definition of theology that accords with Sayers’ implicit usage of the word as well as fulfills the full meaning of the discipline according to the theological traditions of the church, theology is a systematic discipline, predicated upon faith in Divine revelation, that seeks to acquire knowledge of God, and thus humanity and creation, through examination and structuring of His general and special revelations of Himself. This knowledge cannot come to a full comprehension of the Divine and is therefore speculative, yet the objective of this speculation is to establish practical knowledge of the divine that forms our piety and gives meaning and shape to our activity in the world.
When Wilson incorporates Sayers’ vision of theological studies into his proposed Classical framework, he does so at levels that are both explicit and implicit, and the argument here will be that his implicit conception of theological studies cannot fulfill the objectives of his explicit representation. Explicitly, Wilson properly apprehends theology according to Sayers’ model as the “Queen of the Sciences” which brings cohesion and unification to all other disciplines.[23] All knowledge, he argues, requires an “integrating principle” to bring them together into a meaningful unity. This finds easy consensus with Sayers, who argues that the role of theology at the Rhetoric stage is to show that “all knowledge is one.”[24] Additionally, Wilson argues that “a man’s life is unified in his theology,”[25] adding a dimension of practicality and spiritual formation to his definition, which agrees with Sayers’ notion that theology at the Dialectic stage will clarify ethical first principles for the student.[26] Thus, through the mechanisms of proper education, integrated through the unifying nature of theology, Classical Christian schooling strives to “repair the ruins” of our fallen nature, according to the “Biblical view of man.”[27]
Implicitly, however, Wilson reveals that he does not truly adhere to the belief that students ought to be learning “dogmatic theology”[28] at the Dialectic stage of their education as Sayers endorses. Throughout the book, phrases such as “Biblical principles,” “Biblical Presuppositions,” “Biblical Vision,” “Biblical worldview,” and “Biblical integrating principle” take precedent over the language of “theology,” imparting the subtle implication that to study the Bible takes precedence over speculative theology.[29] Nevertheless, Wilson on several occasions argues that it is insufficient for a school to simply add a Bible curriculum and prayer time and to call themselves a Christian school;[30] therefore, the antidote is that a “Biblical worldview” be passed on to the students through the teachers building their lessons upon the presuppositions of a Christian worldview.[31] We do damage, he argues, when we unwittingly impart the same “humanistic” assumptions through our content, and must therefore predicate our curricula on the assumptions of a “Biblical worldview.” Hence, truly Christian education is achieved through the “Christianization” of lesson content by the educators and by them modeling Christian virtue.[32] It appears, then, that it is not the students who are tasked with thinking theologically, but the teachers. The students become but passive recipients of the teachers’ conclusions, which falters before Sayers’ robust vision of cognitive formation as a result of theological discourse. Theological conclusions are merely propagandized, and the students are denied the opportunity to think discursively through Scriptural truth. It ought to be mentioned at this stage as well that neither in the appendices to Recovering the Lost Tools ofLearning, nor on the website for the Logos Academy, is there any course on systematized theology for Dialectic or early Rhetoric stage students.[33] There is a course called “Doctrine” for 11th graders, but this is quite late in their education, and before this their theological education has pertained to scriptural surveys or history alone.
Although not within the scope of this paper to fully explicate, it appears that Wilson has inherited a certain Evangelical bias against theological studies as tending towards unwarranted speculations beyond the revelation of Scripture. For many Evangelicals, contentious theological polemics have left the discipline a “rather worn out and disheveled figure,”[34] and the safer choice has been to retreat to a biblicism that alleges to restrict itself to what scripture “actually” says. In After Calvin, Richard A. Muller identifies how German Pietist theologians—progenitors of contemporary Evangelicalism—drew a line between academic theology and “religion of the heart” creating an unwarranted sense of opposition that has persisted to the modern day.[35] Inheritors of this tradition have often opted for a pura scriptura approach to Christian learning without the ostensibly unnecessary intrusion of academic theology. Even if this diagnosis is ill-founded, it is undeniable that Wilson demonstrates a discomfort with systematized theology, or at least a de-prioritization, when measured against his emphasis upon biblical foundations in education. His restricted usage of “theology” and priority for “Biblical” language imparts the perception that theology as a field of study is indistinguishable from Bible study, conveying an attenuated representation of theological studies to schools predicated upon Wilson’s interpretation of Sayers. For many, their curricula reflect the insufficient “Bible-and-prayer” model that Wilson unequivocally rejects; therefore, it is essential that a proper conception of the relationship between the Bible and theology be established so that a theological curriculum in the manner illustrated by Sayers can be developed.
But why is the “Biblical Worldview” emphasis not a satisfactory substitute for a theological worldview? Are not the “Holy Scriptures…the Alpha and Omega of Christian Schools”?[36] For many of the fathers of the early church, there was a functional symbiosis between exegesis and dogmatics.[37] The former furnished the latter, and the latter shepherded the former. Without the foundation of Scripture, there is no Christian theology, but only the same groping and wondering of any pagan mystic; yet, without systematized theology, Bible study becomes a black market within which theology is smuggled in. As Hans Boersma argues, any bracketing of “theological preunderstanding inevitably ends up smuggling in unacknowledged theological and metaphysical assumptions.”[38] Roger Olson makes this point clear as he attempts to identify the factors that lead one into a Reformed or Arminian reading of Scripture. He argues that a reading of Scripture alone will not resolve the divide, as the problem reduces essentially down to one’s “Blik,” or their basic way of seeing reality.[39] As Wilson himself says, there is no neutral position when it comes to worldviews,[40] and it seems he cannot avoid allowing the same to be true of the way in which we encounter Scripture. This is not to say that the content of Scripture cannot be a corrective to our aberrant presuppositions, but for it to be so requires a rational structuring of Christian thought, bringing us right back to Sayers’ succinct definition of theology.
It appears, then, that the ideas of Scripture cannot be properly conveyed if one does not scrutinize the presuppositions one is bringing to Scripture. An example may be furnished from church history. The most significant heresies of the early church were not simply fanciful, theological accretions, but were often grounded in Scripture. In the second century, the theologian Marcion developed an interpretation of Scripture that proclaimed that the God of the Old Testament was different from the God of Jesus Christ. When the orthodox theologian Irenaeus waged war on Marcion’s dualist reading of Scripture, he was not simply proof-texting Marcion, but had to develop a particular hermeneutical approach to avoid Marcion’s conclusions; for, Marcion had a fundamentally “Biblical worldview” without the corrections of theology. Marcion’s reading of Scripture was, according to Luke Timothy Johnson, “plausible and deeply subversive.”[41] Therefore, to take a pura scriptura position that avoids systematization of Christian content leaves open the question of how to read biblical discourse.[42] This is why the Church so often throughout its history has established theologically developed principles to guide our reading of Scripture, such as catechisms and creeds. Creeds served, and still serve, as concise summations of the appropriate conclusions to derive from reading Scripture, or Rules of Faith that served as a “basis and guide for theology.”[43] They provide certain first principles of reading that determine the appropriate conclusions to which one should come, and to reject them is to embark on the treacherous mission of navigating Divine revelation without the guidance of the Church. Even the developed conceptions of Christology and Trinitarian theology that emerged out of these creedal formulas continue to orient our speech about God;[44] and, as will be further explored in this paper, false theological assumptions can have a pernicious effect upon how we live out our theologies.
Moreover, the Church has employed catechisms throughout its long history that offer theologically derived, educational propositions for catechumens intended to orient them properly towards the reading of Scripture and Christian living. When addressing the question of whether or not children are capable of comprehending the Scriptures, the pietist theologian Johann Amos Comenius argued that they certainly are, but the process of proper comprehension must begin with catechism.[45] Martin Luther, too, developed lesser Catechisms for children intended to educate them in the doctrines of the faith before they were encouraged to encounter the Scriptures on their own.[46] Thus, even in those traditions that most highly value the authority and perspicuity of Scripture, there is still a fundamental belief that theological material must precede a proper reading of Scripture.
In elucidating the manner in which theology has traditionally preceded Scripture and education, the goal has not been to reduce Scripture but to illuminate the manner in which the content of Scripture requires systematization and ordering if it is to be properly understood. This systematization guides us towards a richer experience in spiritual endeavors, such as reading the word or formulating Christian pedagogy: the study of theology is intended to “help the student to acquire a personal and practical knowledge of the Bible.”[47] However, there is alternatively no theology without the revealed word since the “Scriptures are the subject of theology par excellence.”[48] The “Scriptures are a heavenly school;”[49] and, “whoever is to teach others must himself be familiar with the entire substance of the doctrine and must know where and how all the articles in the Holy Scriptures support and explain one another;”[50] It appears we do not have one without the other, but they must not be confused. Wilson offers an explicit description of theology that satisfies the goals of theological education, as will be further expounded, but his implicit conception of theology is lacking in its actual ability to achieve these goals since it lacks an emphasis upon the systematization of Christian thought. If Scripture is to be taught in school, if knowledge is to be unified into a meaningful whole, and if true Christian formation is to take place, then theology, as defined above, must be taught in Classical Christian school.
If conceived of properly, that is, as a discipline that systematizes the teachings of Scripture, then theology serves a crucial role in fulfilling the objective of Classical Christian schools as institutions that cultivate the formation of wisdom and virtue. In this section, we will explore the two primary contributions of theological education to Classical Schooling, which are its unification of all knowledge into a meaningful whole and its role in spiritual formation.
Sayers makes it very clear in The Lost Tools of Learning that the primary responsibility of the “Mistress-Science” at the Rhetoric stage of education is bringing the pupil to a recognition that “all knowledge is one.”[51] Unfortunately, she does not expound upon this point extensively and leaves the reader to interpret the metaphysical assumptions that make this true. For Wilson, grounding the students’ education in biblical study and training the teachers to “Christianize” their lesson material is sufficient to achieve this end; however, the argument here has thus far been that we can only achieve this goal of unification if we provide a systematized approach to the content of Scripture, i.e. theological education. Thus, theology operates as a unifying discipline in two distinct ways: as a systematization of the first principles of reasoning and as telos for the synthesis of knowledge.
Concerning theology as a first principle, this point is intimated by Sayers when she suggests that the Dialectic stage of education is primarily composed of engaging in ethical debates, furnished from the content of the various disciplines, and funded by “a simplified course of dogmatic theology.”[52] It seems to Sayers that theology provides a certain philosophical foundation that undergirds the actual material for ethical debates, for without this philosophical grounding, there would be no first principles of reasoning from which to derive ethical conclusions. Sayers finds accord with many earlier and later thinkers in the Classical Christian tradition on this point. For Hugh of St. Victor, education was built on the unification of all knowledge through theology,[53] and Thomas later identified theology as the science to which all others were “the handmaiden of this one.”[54] More contemporary interpreters such as Clark and Jain suggest that theology nourishes other disciplines’ basic principles from within;[55] and the Circe Institute insists upon Classical Christian schooling as containing a “logocentric” pedagogy that makes sense only if it has a unifying principle.[56] Theology serves the necessary role of extracting and structuring the content of Scripture into a comprehensive set of doctrinal positions that provide the first principles of all later reasoning, since, as Lewis argues in The Abolition of Man, “if nothing is self-evident, nothing can be proved,”[57] and our presuppositions must exist as explicit propositions if they are to inform the pupil meaningfully as they navigate through other disciplines. Through providing theological education, the Classical Christian teacher hopes to bring the student to the realization that, as Byrnes says, “All truth, sacred and secular, is one in God.”[58]
Additionally, theology has a teleological dimension to it that orients all disciplines properly towards a unified end. In describing the necessary factors that comprise social morality, C.S. Lewis provides an illustration of a fleet of ships to identify its three core components: all the ships must all be orderly, all must be aware and considerate of one another, and all must be oriented in the same direction.[59] This same analogy could be applied to the relationship between the various disciplines in the Classical Christian school. All the disciplines must be orderly in their individual presentation, must relate to one another properly, and must all be oriented towards the same objective. Theology is the central principle that satisfies all these criteria in the Classical Christian model: It gives structure to the individual disciplines by giving them principles of reasoning upon which to be built, relates them to one another through revealing them as participating in the unity of Divine truth, and directs them all towards the same end—that is, unity in God. It is for this reason that Thomas named theology the “nobler” science since it directs the end of all others towards “eternal beatitude.”[60] Because of this teleological dimension to theology, all disciplines are imparted a basic meaning, as they are all directed towards some ultimate fulfillment. Without a unifying telos, the various academic disciplines are either subject to a sort of nihilistic scrutiny (the “why-am-I-learning-this” criticism) or are perceived as simply means to some sort of capitalistic end. Nevertheless, Dr. Clark and Ravi Jain accurately argue that “as Aristotle pointed out, the end of a thing is the most important, for it is toward the end that all actions are directed.”[61]
Howard Stone and James Duke open their book, How to Think Theologically, with the bold assertion that “All Christians are theologians.”[62] Such an assertion does not have the intention of belittling theology through some cynical, reductionistic project, but instead strives to exalt theology to a place of immense relevance. All Christians (and to an extent, all people) operate upon fundamental theological assumptions that dictate how they encounter the world. These theological assumptions guide our ethical judgements and affect how we perceive the events of our life. Stone and Duke call these fundamental assumptions the individual’s “embedded theology,” because they often reside unexamined at the foundation of our conscious state. It is often only when we arrive at a crisis moment that we bring our embedded theology under greater scrutiny.[63]
Primary contributors to Christian educational thought have broadly endorsed the notion that spiritual formation is a core objective of Christian pedagogy, although it goes without explicit mention in Sayers’ essay, and that theology is inextricably tied to this formation. Comenius pleads that “God would have pity on us, that we might find some universal method by which all that occupies the mind of man might be brought into relation with God” and that once it does it might “convert the business of this life…into a preparation for the life to come!”[64] Classical teachers Miller and Beazley argue that the goal of Classical Christian Schooling is “to train students’ affections and loves within a Christian world-and-life view,” and Kevin Clark and Ravi Jain consider Christian formation to be the “entire endeavor” of Classical Christian education,[65] and theology as formative for our piety.[66] Thus, our theological knowledge forms the foundation of our Christian virtue, as we operate upon embedded theological assumptions; and therefore, Classical Christian schooling must “help the student to correlate the fundamental truths…into an orderly, systematic, well-balanced theological pattern as the basis of his own Christian experience and philosophy of life.”[67]
Students require a systematized knowledge of biblical thought (i.e. theology) to form a genuine religious sentiment towards reality and to mature in the practice of their Christian faith. A pedagogy that simply exposes students to Scripture without systematizing its thought and that requires teachers to “christianize” the details of otherwise secular curriculum material will be ill-equipped to prepare students to navigate the world in a discerning way, “disentangling fact from opinion and the proven from the plausible.”[68] According to the sixteenth century theologian Jacobus Arminius, theology is primarily a practical science that serves to draw us into the blessedness of God, shaping us into the image of Christ.[69] Students ought to have lives “informed and governed by theology,”[70] since, as Boersma argues, “theology as academic instruction leads to theology as moral practice.”[71] Therefore, proper spiritual formation cannot occur apart from an education that systematizes and structures Christian thought, which cannot be achieved via the model of “biblical” education as implicitly endorsed by Wilson; and if Classical Christian education, in fact, intends to cultivate virtue and spiritual formation, then it appears theology as a rational structuring of Christian thought is essential to the process, since the “prayerful study” of theology “should transform life” and “issue forth in public morality and piety.”[72]
There appears in the current academic milieu to be something of a trepidation about genuine theological studies, and this may be entirely warranted. Any student of European history recognizes the devastating strife and loss of life that identification along theological lines has caused, the horrific numbers of those who have burned and drowned as a consequence of tertiary theological opinions, and the liberal accretions of the 19th century that diminished the holiness of Scripture and bastardized the claims of Christ. Consequently, we appear to have retreated from rigorous theological education and permitted, even in our churches, a tepid, shallow, shadow of the gospel to replace it.[73] Church and home are too often ill-equipped to impart a rationally structured faith, and the abundance of alternative ideologies prevailing in the culture pose a serious intellectual challenge to those who cannot articulate their faith. This, then, is the goal of theological studies: to form in our students an authentic Christian worldview capable of bringing cohesion and meaning to the pupil’s life; because “Christian theology is the repository of God’s revelation in systematized form” and “it must have vital relation to Christian education and all education.”[74]
In the preface to Hans Boersma’s book Five Things Theologians Wish Biblical Scholars Knew, in response to Boersma’s “theological, Christological reading of Scripture” Biblical scholar Scot McKnight poses the warranted question “Which theology? Whose theology?”[75] Similarly, there is no denying that an ecumenical, Classical Christian theology program is fraught with the same challenges and that this project may have simply avoided tackling the most difficult problem to resolve. Nevertheless, the challenges and fears that accompany the implementation of a theological curriculum in Classical Christian schooling ought, by no means, to be allowed to undermine the necessary service that theology performs for the entire educational paradigm. The formation of a theological curriculum in the Classical Christian school must be an encounter with the Word of God in a posture of deep humility and gratitude, for “nothing so stills our heart and rouses it to love His goodness…as the gift of theology.”[76]
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]]>The post Book Review: “Life in the Negative World” appeared first on The North American Anglican.
]]>The past several years have seen multiple releases in the “everyone hates us, what do we do now?” subgenre of Christian cultural commentary, with no fewer than three such titles being published in 2017 alone.[1] Given that the situation has not changed much for Christians since then, books of this kind are still popular, with Aaron Renn’s Life in the Negative World being the latest entry.
Renn’s book is a fleshed-out exploration of a framework he previously formulated in a 2022 First Things article.[2] The basic idea is that Christians in America have lived in three different cultural environments over the past seventy years or so: “positive world,” “neutral world,” and “negative world.” In the positive world, “Society at large retains a mostly positive view of Christianity. To be known as a good, churchgoing man or woman remains part of being an upstanding citizen in society.” In the neutral world, “Society takes a neutral stance toward Christianity. Christianity no longer has privileged status, but nor is it disfavored.” In the negative world, “Society has an overall negative view of Christianity. Being known as a Christian is a social negative, particularly in the higher status domains of society” (6‒7, italics original). Renn’s thesis is that American Christians currently inhabit the negative world, meaning that “fresh strategies and approaches need to be developed to respond to the new and difficult challenges” this cultural environment poses (xv). Although the book “may be useful for Roman Catholics or those from other Christian traditions, it’s primarily written with evangelicals in mind” (xviii). Notably, Renn defines “evangelical” broadly—using “a sociological rather than a theological approach”—with “any Protestant who is not mainline or from the black church tradition” qualifying as an evangelical (xviii).
In Chapters 1‒2, Renn briefly surveys various causes that contributed to the rise of the negative world (such as the sexual revolution and the end of the Cold War), as well as the strategic approaches of engagement that were cultivated by evangelicals in response to these societal developments, e.g., “culture war” and “seeker sensitivity” (22). Chapter 3 discusses what strategies for engagement in the negative world might look like broadly speaking, with Renn asserting that Christians in America are now a “moral minority” (47) and need to act like it, which should involve “a shift in emphasis away from relevance and transformation toward being a counterculture” (48). That said, he also believes evangelicals should “continue to be as relevant as possible to carry out the Great Commission and pursue transformation when there’s an opportunity to do so” (48‒49). The rest of the book lays out specific strategies to help fortify evangelicals as a group, with respect to both internal culture and external pressures. Examples include becoming financially independent, assuming greater ownership (e.g., in real estate and economically productive businesses), and “repairing our own sexual economy” (127) by restoring a Christian culture of chastity and fruitful marriages.
Renn’s assessment of American Christians’ current circumstances is accurate—they are indeed a moral minority, and as such they need to start living and understanding themselves as a robust counterculture. A number of Renn’s suggested strategies are sound as well, particularly his recommendation that Christians attain financial and economic independence whenever possible. However, it is not clear to me whether an aspiring counterculture can be concerned with “relevance” and still succeed at being truly countercultural. This question becomes acute in light of some of the suggestions Renn makes about how evangelicals can continue to be relevant. For instance, he maintains that “while restricting access to technology can be appropriate for some age groups, at some point children need to be equipped to responsibly use smartphones and social media. As adults they will be on at least some social media platforms” (123). Smartphones and social media are treated here as unavoidable fixtures of contemporary life, with only a passing acknowledgment of the ways in which both of these technologies can and do undermine the sort of vital Christian counterculture Renn promotes.[3] More broadly, “relevance” is a relative term, and what it means to be relevant is defined by the dominant culture. If the dominant culture is anti-Christian, why should Christians accept its definition of what it means to be “relevant,” especially when some of those ways of being relevant would negate their own efforts to sustain a Christian counterculture?
The same question could be raised with regard to Renn’s belief that Christian voters should “seek laws, policies, and political leaders who support their values and way of life in ways that respect the rule of law in a liberal democracy” (197). Renn apparently takes it as a given that American Christians must think and function within a liberal framework because America is a liberal polity—as he observes elsewhere, “liberalism” in an American context can effectively be equated with “the American cultural and political tradition.”[4] Yet other commentators have argued that liberalism itself undermines traditional Christianity,[5] and, moreover, the idea that America is at present truly liberal in any meaningful sense is questionable, as some of Renn’s own anecdotes in the Introduction attest.[6] In light of these doubts concerning the compatibility of liberalism and traditional Christianity, it is notable that Renn does not engage the issue in his book.
Nonetheless, Renn performs a valuable service by clearly stating a simple truth that many Christians have not absorbed: in contemporary America, traditional Christianity is a detriment to one’s social and economic status rather than a benefit, and Christians therefore need to adjust how they navigate these new circumstances. This basic understanding must be reached on a wide scale before coordinated responsive action can be taken, so any work that communicates this reality to a larger audience is to be appreciated.
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]]>The post An Exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles: Article XXXIX appeared first on The North American Anglican.
]]>Of a Christian man’s Oath.
As we confess that vain and rash Swearing is forbidden Christian men by our Lord Jesus Christ, and James his Apostle, so we judge, that Christian Religion doth not prohibit, but that a man may swear when the Magistrate requireth, in a cause of faith and charity, so it be done according to the Prophet’s teaching, in justice, judgment, and truth.
De Jurejurando.
Quemadmodum juramentum vanum et temerarium a Domino nostro Jesu Christo, et Apostolo ejus Jacobo, Christianis hominibus interdictum esse, fatemur: ita Christianorum religionem minime prohibere censemus, quin jubente magistratu in causa fidei et charitatis jurare liceat, modo id fiat juxta Prophetæ doctrinam, in justitia, in judicio et veritate.
WHEN the early Christians were called on to swear before heathen magistrates, they were mostly required to use idolatrous oaths. These were naturally abhorred by them, and perhaps inclined them to a dread of swearing altogether, even more than Scripture would inculcate. Thus Tertullian says, “I say nothing of perjury, since it is unlawful even to swear.”[1] Yet from a passage in his Apology we find that Christians did not refuse to take lawful oaths; though idolatrous oaths they, of necessity, rejected. Christians, he says, would not swear by the Emperor’s genii; for the genii were dæmons; but by the safety of the Emperor they were willing to swear.[2] The same swearing by the safety of the Emperor (ὑπὲρ τῆς σωτηρίας τοῦ εὐσεβεστάτου Αὐγούστου Κωνσταντίου) is mentioned by Athanasius.[3] Vegetius, who lived about A. D. 390, says, the Christian soldiers “swore by God, and Christ, and the Holy Spirit, and the majesty of the Emperor.”[4] Nay! Athanasius required of Constantius that his accusers should be put upon their oath.[5] And much more has been alleged, in proof that the early Christians did not refuse legitimate oaths in legal inquiries.
There was, however, doubtless, much scruple on the subject of swearing among the ancients generally. Clement of Alexandria says, the enlightened Christian will never perjure himself. And so he considers it an indignity for a Christian to be put upon oath, as disparaging his fidelity; and that he will avoid swearing, saying only Yea and Nay.[6] And Lactantius says, that a Christian will never perjure himself, lest he mock God; nor indeed will he swear at all, lest he fall by accident, or carelessly, into perjury.[7]
Against idle swearing, swearing by the creatures, and perjury, the primitive Church was very severe.[8] And it does indeed appear, that some of the fathers, led by the strong language of Matt, v. 34, and James v. 12, doubted even the lawfulness of oaths at all; thinking that they may have been permitted to Jews, but forbidden to Christians.[9] The Pelagians took up, as one of their positions, that a man must not swear at all.[10] But Augustine replied, in an epistle cited in the last Article. There he enjoins to avoid swearing as much as possible; but shows that, in cases of necessity, there was Scriptural ground for it.[11]
In later ages, the Waldenses,[12] the Anabaptists,[13] the Quakers, and some other sects, have held all oaths unlawful. It is against the Anabaptists probably, that this Article, as well as the last, is specially directed.
IT is probably an admitted fact that oaths were lawful under the old Testament. This Article refers to a passage in the Prophet Jeremiah (iv. 2): “Thou shalt swear, The LORD liveth, in truth, in judgment, and in righteousness.” The only prohibition was against false swearing, or swearing by false gods.[14] It seems likely that the Jews somewhat abused this permission, and were rather free in their use of oaths, and of the name of the Almighty on trivial occasions. Accordingly some strict and ascetic sects among them were led to the opposite extent of refusing to take an oath under any circumstances.[15] If the Jews were thus profane and careless in swearing, we can readily see the object of our Saviour’s denunciation of rash oaths. There are obvious and very great dangers in a habit of this kind. If, on every trivial occasion, we have recourse to an oath for attestation, it will almost necessarily follow, that we shall lightly regard an ordinary assertion, and that the sanctity of an oath itself will be less revered. Hence such swearing must foster a spirit of untruthfulness. And again, the readily bringing into common conversation the most sacred name of God, must necessarily lead to irreverence and impiety. What can be more alien from the spirit of the Gospel, than these two habits of falsehood and irreverence?
Now it seems very apparent, that it is this evil habit which our Lord condemns. The Jews appear to have satisfied themselves, that they might swear as much as they chose, if they did not forswear themselves. But our Lord, enforcing the spirit, not merely the letter, of the commandment, tells them not to swear at all; and enjoins that, in their common discourse, they should only say yea and nay; as more than this can come only from the evil One; Ἔστω δὲ ὁ λόγος ὑμῶν ναὶ, οὒ οὔ · τὸ δὲ περισσὸν τούτων ἐκ τοῦ πονηροῦ ἐστιν (Matt. v. 37). The very words used, and the whole tenor of the passage, show that it is to common conversation that the precept applies. St. James’s words (James v. 12) are so nearly a repetition of our Lord’s, that the former must be interpreted by the latter.
So far then we see the great evil of profane swearing, and of solemn asseverations on unimportant occasions. All such are strictly forbidden by, and thoroughly opposed to, the Gospel of Christ.
But, on solemn and important occasions, and especially in courts of justice, we have new Testament authority for believing that oaths are lawful to Christians as well as to Jews. Our Lord Himself was adjured by the High Priest, and, instead of refusing to plead to such an adjuration, He answered immediately.[16] This one argument seems a host in itself. Our Lord consented to be put upon His oath. Oaths therefore before a civil tribunal cannot be forbidden to His disciples. St Paul frequently, in very weighty matters, calls God to witness, which is essentially taking an oath. See Rom. ix. 1. 1 Cor. xv. 31. 2 Cor. i. 18, 23; xi. 10, 31; xii. 19. Gal. i. 20. Phil. i. 8. This is St. Augustine’s argument against the Pelagians; though he says truly, that we must not swear carelessly, because St. Paul swore when there was good reason for swearing. Again, in the Epistle to the Hebrews (iii. 11; vi. 16, 17), the Almighty is represented as swearing; and, in the latter passage, the Apostle compares God’s swearing with the swearing common among men, saying, “Men verily swear by the greater; and an oath for confirmation is the end of all strife” (Heb. vi. 16). With this we ought to compare Matt, xxiii. 16‒22. See also Rev. x. 6.
Weighing then, all that has been said above, very strong as our Lord’s and St. James’s language against oaths may be, it yet seems impossible to doubt, that it is directed against vain, trivial, and thoughtless swearing, but not against that legal confirming of the truth by a solemn attestation in the sight of God, which was commanded in the Law of Moses, which our blessed Saviour Himself submitted to before Caiaphas, and which the example of the Apostles, and their general language on the subject, seem not only to permit, but to sanction also, if not to enjoin. In short, profane swearing is altogether forbidden to Christians; but religious attestation upon oath seems to be acquiesced in as necessary, and admitted as lawful.
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]]>First, we must define what a sacrament is and isn’t. The word sacrament comes to us from the Greek word mysterion. From this word, we derive the English word mystery. So then a sacrament is a mystery. There are aspects of the sacraments that we do not quite understand, but that’s not quite all that this word means. The theological definition of mystery refers to something that had at one time been secret, but is now revealed.
We do have clear definitions of what a sacrament is and isn’t. In a sacrament, there is an outward sign (water, bread, or wine) of an inward spiritual grace (regeneration or the body and blood of Christ). The problem with defining confession as a sacrament is, as Article 25 of the 39 Articles points out, that it lacks the visible sign and ceremony that the sacrament of baptism and the Eucharist share. This does not mean, however, that confession as it has been historically practiced by the church is wrong or that it lacks grace.
There is a tendency among reformed Christians to overreact to things because they are perceived to be papist in nature when in fact they do have biblical and historical precedence. In James 5:16 Christians are instructed to confess their sins and to pray for one another. Moreover, in John 20 verse 23 Jesus gives power and authority to the apostles to retain and remit sins as He appears to them after the resurrection.
That passage in John has been a significant part of the ordination of priests from the very beginning. In the ordinal of 1662, which is a formulary of the Reformed church of England, the bishop says to the priest as he lays his hands upon his head, “Recieve the Holy Ghost, for the office, and work of a priest… whose sins thou dost forgive they are forgiven…” The reason for this is a clear reference to the authority given to the apostles in John 20. We Anglicans truly believe that apostolic authority is transferred via the laying on of hands and that a bishop or priest has the same authority to forgive sins that Jesus gives to the apostles in that passage.
So then we come to the question of confession. Is it a sacrament? Not in the same way that baptism and the Eucharist are. It does lack the visible sign and ceremony that the aforementioned Sacraments have. But I am not willing to say that there is no grace present in confession given that Jesus explicitly gives authority and power to his ministers to forgive sins. So then we might say that it is sacramental or that it is a lesser sacrament, but not a sacrament in the same way that Baptism and the Eucharist are.
Confession as practiced within the modern Anglican Church as a rite in and of itself is wholly biblical and consistent with the views of the English reformers per their own reformational documents. It is not immediately clear as to why this is controversial within Anglicanism or why it is associated with papism given that it has been a practice of the church since ancient times and has biblical warrant. Yet the image of a man going into the confessional with his priest does seem to conjure the fears of many.
Frankly, we need to get past those fears. They hinder us from grace in some pretty significant ways. No Anglican Priest worth his salt is leading anyone into the errors of Rome. There are reasons why they do the things they do. Sitting down with your priest and sharing your burdens as though you’re sharing them with Christ Himself is a gift that Christ Himself has given to the church. It’s a gift that He has given to you and to fear that gift because it might lead to some obscure idea of papism is a deeply grievous error that we need to repent of so that we might be able to receive all of the blessings that Christ gives to His people.
You can call confession a sacrament if you choose. Or if you prefer not to that is fine as well. But neglecting it just because it’s misunderstood does all of us a grave spiritual disservice. We must joyfully use all of the things that Christ has given unto us, and if John 20:23 is to be believed then confession is one the greatest gifts we have at our ecclesiastical disposal for fighting sin and temptation. Let’s avail ourselves of it.
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]]>On the surface, Anglicanism promises Catholic identity but a deeper look reveals some warts. There are some attempts to reunify, which I will briefly list below. Finally, I will suggest some things we need to do going forward. These warts render unity a bit of a challenge, but they also provide opportunities for growth.
Anglican warts are evident to anyone familiar with her recent history and the various sects presently in existence. This has become more evident to me as I have explored the many facets, groups, splinterings, and branches of Anglicanism. I recall even early on saying something to myself like: “Gosh, these Anglicans are starting to look more and more like the Baptists.” I certainly didn’t expect it. What originally attracted me to Anglicanism was two-fold: (1) authority in and through the ecclesiastical structures, formularies, and, at a minimum, a modest sort of creedalism, and (2) liturgy through the Book of Common Prayer (particularly the 1928 version as well as the earlier versions of the BCP). But, really, the gateway was through the liturgy and becoming more acquainted with the prayer-book lifestyle. These have and continue to ground me as more mainline Christian groups and evangelicals seem to be changing, and, in some ways, changing rapidly.
But, as with all groups, denominations, and churches, there are warts. Unfortunately, they often take time to reveal themselves as, even in our Anglican groups, there is always the same old universal tendency to put on our best face and our best smile. It turns out Anglicanism has some warts you wouldn’t quite expect. It too has its share of personality cults and leaders that dominate the leadership, especially in those large corridors of Anglicanism that embrace an evangelical ethos and outlook. I’m not claiming that the personality cultic nature of various evangelical groups permeates Anglicanism to the same degree, however. This was one secondary attraction to Anglicanism early on. It too has its share of authoritarianism, especially in those smaller idiosyncratic crevices of Anglicanism. I am also not claiming that Anglicanism has a greater share of authoritarianism than say other evangelical groups (e.g., the Baptists, etc) all of which have a tendency to territory control motivated by political agendas, or just a simple desire for individual power. Upon reflection, this is all to be expected to some degree. What I didn’t expect, what is and remains perplexing is the ‘unity’ bit that we confess every week as we confess the words of the Nicene Creed.
At least in Roman Catholicism, you have three clear ways in which unity stands out and serves as a mechanism for change: (1) Catechism unifies the doctrinal content as the standard for all Roman Catholics, (2) magisterial hierarchy, and (3) continuity and recognition of sacramental orders. Of course Anglicans who adhere to the formularies (or some part of them) have the equivalent to the Roman Catholic Catechism. The continuity and recognition of sacramental orders, too, are present theoretically, but upon closer inspection reveal a series of not insignificant questions threatening to undermine this essential feature of Anglican identity.
On the positive side, the growing attraction to Anglicanism for many low-church evangelicals is a sense that they really are a part of a united Church, the Church Catholic, and this is more than some abstract unity that we merely verbalize or some ephemeral sentimental notion that we grasp for but can’t quite reach. No, there is a sense that we are united, truly, globally, historically, and, in some real way, concretely. By globally and historically, I intend to convey (and I’m certainly not alone here) that there exist concrete structures that tie us to what literally everyone else is doing in a global sense and what the Anglican Church has always done in following, basically, the same old rhythmic patterns of liturgy found in the historic prayer books. Furthermore, there is, arguably, a concrete sacramental order that is passed on in a three-fold office that we claim as institutionally catholic in a real sense and one that ties us back to the early part of the English church’s history (at least to the second century, that common narrative about King Henry, well, the best of history doesn’t support that as the start of the Anglican English churches who had a three-fold structure of Bishop, priest, and deacon).
All there is to say of a positive nature from history or from Scripture about our ‘concrete’ unity somehow comes into question, or becomes eroded, by actual honest looks at the landscape in recent history. There are several concerns just from recent history that, at most, serve as defeaters to the notion that we are, in fact, “united” and, more modestly, are simply perplexing. One of the areas of fracturing that undermines a sense that there is a real order that has been passed down and serves as a concrete unifier amongst Anglicans is in the area of ‘orders’—that is holy orders, those vocational offices for which deacons, priests, and Bishops enter the ‘one militant Church,’ the Church Catholic.
This has become clearer to me and others after not only years of observation but of personal experience with differing Anglican groups. What is a surprise is that in Anglicanism you seem to have as much splintering or fracturing as you do in the Baptist world. You have your low-church evangelical Anglicans who have got the ‘liturgy’ bug. You have the rigid ‘confessionalist’ Anglicans who are simply Presbyterian adjacent. You have the even more rigid Lutheran-adjacent Anglicans. Then you have ACNA trying to unify varying trends and tastes as the new TEC. However, ACNA has a fair share of political challenges that stand out even amongst many of the Anglican/episcopal groups (the recent canceling of Fr. Calvin Robinson at Mere Anglicanism is just one symptom of a bigger structural concern permeating the halls of ACNA). You have the ACNA as the North American standard, but they are not connected to significant portions of global Anglicanism. Then you have those who lack confidence in ACNA (because, well let’s be honest, they are quite messy and politically poised to be ‘the’ Anglican standard in North America—but really they are bigger than the britches they own) and are moving in one of two directions. One direction is to go back to TEC to reclaim that historic sect (heard of reconquista?). The other direction is to move into one of the continuing episcopal groups—you know, the ones that made the wise decision to leave TEC when they saw Women’s ordination and prayerbook revisionism. Both solutions represent fracturing in their own ways.
Reconquista represents a fracturing with no plausible means or methods in sight to reclaim TEC. Ironically, there remain some relative traditionalists who are orthodox in TEC, but they have no clear plans for reclaiming TEC and taking it back in an orthodox direction. The priests are just happy and content to focus on their isolated congregations. If you ask them about plans, they will mumble something about being more congregationalist in outlook (ironic given they are Episcopal) with a dim view of future prospects that TEC will ever reaffirm even normative, Christological doctrine codified in Chalcedon. In fact, the days of individual TEC parishes withholding money from their unfaithful diocese seem to be steadily becoming a thing of the past. What that means, concretely, is that, yes, your money will go to unfaithful Bishops who are promulgating heterodox teaching, encouraging progressives to enter the priesthood, and dogmatically standing by the ‘79 prayer book whilst treating those who wish to retrieve the older more faithful prayerbook tradition as outcasts. And, if you are traditional and orthodox: good luck gaining support, encouragement, and real direction within TEC (in fact several cases reveal quite the opposite). Those who have legitimate orders recognized by global Anglicanism will have a challenge, as well, trying to serve (even as a visiting priest) in TEC if you affirm traditional orthodox doctrines held dear by historic Anglicanism.
Continuing Anglicanism represents a different type of fracturing. These “continuing” Episcopalians may be more faithful in terms of rigid creedal adherence and practice, but they (like the ACNA) have given up history, institutional backing, beautiful buildings, and any semblance of a connection to the wider world of global Anglicanism. More importantly, their orders are not recognized by much of the rest of global Anglicanism. These groups know that and, well, they don’t accept the orders of many other groups either. In fact, even amongst those who are considered relatively traditional and orthodox, even conservative, will likely need to ‘regularize’ their orders upon entering one of these rather small anemic Episcopal groups.
ACNA isn’t immune to this either, as it has effectively broken with a long heritage of hierarchy that served to unify the various brands of anglicanism. While ACNA’s orders are not recognized by many global Anglicans, they too have no recognizable standard for adjudicating the orders of other Anglican groups not to mention the more fundamental concern with women’s ordination, once again.
Then there are those charismatic Anglicans. Who knows what they are doing? I don’t intend that as a negative criticism of charismatic theology and practice in general, but just to highlight the fuzzy identity boundaries in Anglicanism that fail to map onto anything that resembles a continuous institutional, concrete sacramental Church and thus averting the ‘congregationalism’ of free-church movements.
Now that I’ve managed to piss off all the groups by pointing out only some of the warts they bear, I highlight this point of ‘unity’ that is uniquely captured in one of the key distinctive features of Anglicanism, namely holy orders. All this raises a more fundamental and serious question about Anglican orders in general, namely if there are generally recognized standards that are commensurate with historic Anglicanism. Beyond a mere alignment with this or that church’s doctrinal stances and moral standards (as well as following the ‘Ordinal’ in the historic prayer-book tradition), the arbitrary nature of orders resembles more and more the arbitrary and fluctuating standards of ‘congregationalist’ churches and erodes the continuous, catholic identity that we long for as Anglicans.
So, where does this leave us? What do we do now and where do we go from here? Well, this could leave us in a few different places. What we are describing regarding ‘unity’ really does impinge, in part, on how we can conceive of ‘identity.’ Again apostolic succession, the three-fold office, appears to be an essential ingredient of what sets Anglicans apart from other Protestants and evangelicals.
We could take it that the three-fold office is a distinctive of Anglicans (and other high-church Christians) who believe the three-fold office is supported in Scripture and provides a general organizational structure for the health and flourishing of the Church. That said, we are left with many who remain disagreed on the standards, conditions, and requirements for receiving holy orders. In fact, we have many ‘independent’ Anglicans out there who have a Bishop who operates as the head over a small number of parishes disconnected from other geographical locales, national Anglicalnism, and the global communion.
We could simply take this as a given and realize that there are a plurality of standards, conditions and requirements for the postulant entering holy orders. With that comes the unity around the rather thin idea that there actually is a three-fold office established by God in Christ and passed along from the Apostles. But, this leaves us in a rather precarious position concerning a richer more complicated unity of the actual branches within Anglicanism. Not only do we have three branches now (recognized respectively in higher church traditions: Anglican, EO, and RC), but we also have numerous branches that are not in communion and fail to recognize the orders of other branches. Call this the pluralistic model of Anglican polity. But it seems problematic given the fact that we share the same Anglicanism and we claim to be a part of the one Catholic Church we confess on a weekly basis (if you are one of those lonely Anglican parishes who does not confess the Nicene or Apostles Creed, then we have another sign of further fracturing and splintering). This pluralistic model leaves us a bit unsatisfied given the claim of some sort of concrete unity that takes us beyond an invisible church (as is so common in the Calvinian tradition) and an eschatological unity (so characteristic of Baptist and free church models). No, it seems we want something more that reflects a historic unity and a global unity in the concrete present Anglican Church.
There have been attempts to codify the standards, conditions, and requirements of holy orders as governed by a global set of canons. More recently, these include the Worldwide Anglican Church (see here: https://www.worldwideanglicanchurch.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/WAC-Approved-Canons-2022.pdf). The Worldwide Anglican Church spells out the principle authority of unity for Anglican churches as the 39 articles and recognizes the unity as a bridge between Protestantism and Roman Catholicism. However, it merely takes the unity to extend backwards to King Henry the VIII. Then there exists the Anglican Communion (see here: https://www.anglicancommunion.org/media/124862/AC-Principles-of-Canon-Law.pdf). Of course, then we have the GAFCON and GSFA that were established to provide a kind of network for Anglicans in the process of reforming and renovating a more global Anglicanism. Worthy endeavors indeed, but the actual practice of how groups work together and the respective parishes work together on the ground concerning the respecting of holy orders seems altogether, once again, fractured.
All this fracturing or “branching” as you might call it reflects a problematic tendency in our world that looks less like Catholicity historically and globally. As well, it reflects the broader tendency to treat somewhat loosely the Formularies, especially the prayer-book tradition that has always unified the respective Anglican locales across time. Presently, it also reflects a tendency amongst Bishops to act in ways that are inconsistent with the authorities they have been given that ought to govern their judgments and interactions with other Anglican groups and orders. That said, the reunifying, if that word is appropriate, through the varying networks is a helpful one that should continue even more to greater lengths. But, this will require spelling out not only the minimum conditions (for this one can follow the form, content, and rubrics given to us in the prayer books) for holy orders within the groups’ respective parishes, but also laying out clear parameters for which Bishops should operate as they relate and interact with other groups who happen to be in the same networks.
In the end, these challenges surrounding unity and holy orders are complex. The need for a nuanced definition of Anglican identity is evident. And, greater attention is necessary in the areas of Bishop’s interactions, codification of standards regarding diocesan relations, and global networks. This, then, is a call to a unified effort to address the warts of Anglican identity, so that we might foster a more continuous and cohesive identity in Catholic Anglicanism.
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]]>Of Christian men’s Goods, which are not common.
The Riches and Goods of Christians are not common, as touching the right, title, and possession of the same, as certain Anabaptists do falsely boast. Notwithstanding, every man ought, of such things as he possesseth, liberally to give alms to the poor, according to his ability.
De illicita bonorum communicatione.
Facultates et bona Christianorum non sunt communia, quoad jus et possessionem (ut quidam Anabaptistæ falso jactant) debet tamen quisque de his quæ possidet, pro facultatum ratione, pauperibus eleemosynas benigne distribuere.
THERE is no doubt, that the early Christians practised almsgiving and sacrifice of their own wealth for the Church and the poor, to an extent unknown in our days. There are indeed passages in the Apologies of Justin Martyr and Tertullian, which appear at first sight as if there were in the early ages a complete community of goods. The former speaks of Christians as having formerly placed their greatest pleasure in acquiring wealth and possessions, “but now bringing all that they have into a common stock, and imparting to every one in need.”[1] The latter says, “We, who are united in mind and soul, hesitate not to have our possessions in common. With us all things are in common but our wives.”[2] But, that they did not mean a real community of goods, appears from an earlier passage in the same chapter: “Even if there be with us a sort of treasury, no sum is therein collected discreditable to religion, as though she were bought. Every man places there a small gift on one day of the month, or whenever he wills, so he be but willing and able; for no man is constrained, but contributes willingly.”[3] It is plain that, where there were collections, according as men were able and willing, there could be no true community of goods. Clement of Alexandria wrote his tract, Quis Dives Salvetur, to prove, that it was not the design of the Gospel that all men should reject the possessions with which Providence had blessed them. It was one of the errors attributed to the Pelagians, “that a rich man must sell all that he has, or he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.”[4] But, that this was not a precept of universal obligation, St. Augustine argues against them at great length.[5] Several early sects are mentioned, as having forbidden possessions, and denied salvation to those who had wealth, — as the Apostolici;[6] and the Eustathians, who for this and other errors were condemned by the Council of Gangra.[7] Persons, who adopted such opinions, were called by the fathers Apotactitæ.[8] The fact, that they were esteemed heretics, shows that the Church repudiated and condemned their peculiarities.
Some very zealous Christians in all ages have felt personally bound to relinquish their wealth, and devote themselves to a voluntary poverty; and with them may be classed the mendicant orders, and indeed all those religious communities which have required vows of poverty from their numbers. This, however, is a different view of things from that condemned in the Article. The Article refers to the belief that all property is unlawful, and that goods in a Christian society must be common. This is a tenet which has only been adopted, whether in primitive or later ages, by certain fanatical sects; and it is here especially spoken of as an error of the Anabaptists. With them the doctrine was a source, not so much of personal self-denial, as of efforts to subvert civil government and the whole framework of society; and it was not therefore to be treated as an innocent enthusiasm, but to be denounced as a dangerous error.[9]
A GREAT many passages from the new Testament might be brought to prove the danger of riches; and some few of our Lord’s own sayings seem even to enjoin on His followers a renunciation of worldly wealth. Such are Matt. v. 42; vi. 19; Luke xvi. 19‒25; 1 Tim. vi. 9, 10; James v. 1. The two most remarkable, however, are Matt. xix. 21, where the young man is bidden to sell all that he has, and give to the poor; and Luke xii. 33, where our Saviour, addressing His disciples generally, says, “Sell that ye have, and give alms; provide yourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not,” &c. The former passage (Matt. xix. 21) has been considered at some length under Art. XIV.[10] The other (Luke xii. 33) appears to me the strongest argument from Scripture in favour of their opinion who think that every sincere follower of Jesus Christ should divest himself of all his personal possessions, and embrace a voluntary and strict poverty. We must take heed how we weaken and dilute injunctions of our Saviour, especially when they cross our natural propensities. Yet we must not explain one passage of Scripture so as to make it contrary to other passages of Scripture. Our Lord tells us in another place, that, if a man “hate not his father and mother, and wife and children, and his own life also, he cannot be His disciple” (Luke xiv. 26). Such a declaration, pressed to its utmost limits, would make us “without natural affection,” (a mark of heathen reprobation, Rom. i. 31,) and would even lead us to break the fifth commandment. And so of the passage in question; though in its most literal and general application it would not lead to consequences so serious as this, yet it would, so interpreted, make it impossible for us to provide for those of our own house, which St. Paul tells us would be a proof that we had denied the faith and had become worse than infidels (1 Tim. v. 8). It is probable therefore, that we must consider our blessed Saviour’s exhortation as rather addressed to His immediate followers, who could only follow Him in His wanderings, and preach His Gospel in the world, by utter abandonment of houses and possessions, than as applicable to all His disciples through all ages of the Church. And, even if we pressed His words to their utmost length, they would merely be an injunction to individuals to renounce their wealth, not a rule binding on society, that private wealth should be confiscated, and only a public fund permitted to exist.
In favour of that view, the only tenable argument is drawn from the early chapters of the Acts; where we read that the first believers “had all things in common, and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men as every man had need ” (Acts ii. 44, 45); that the multitudes of them that believed were of one heart and one soul, neither said any of them that ought of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common (Acts iv. 32; compare 34‒37). This self-devotion of the primitive Christians affords indeed a most instructive example for all succeeding generations. It sprang from an intense feeling of love and gratitude to the Saviour; and whilst it was fervent and enthusiastic, it was reasonable and necessary. Had there not been self-sacrifice among the rich, what would have become of the poor of the flock, whose name was, for Christ’s sake, cast out as evil? But even at this very time we find the right of the owners to their property fully recognized in the Scriptures and by the Apostles, so as abundantly to show that no absolute community of goods had been exacted. The very fact that it is written, “No man said that ought of the things which he possessed was his own,” shows that the possessions were acknowledged to be theirs by others, though voluntarily renounced by themselves; and that therefore it was a voluntary renunciation, and not made according to an obligation imposed on them by the Church. Also, St. Peter said to Ananias: “Whilst it remained, was it not thine own? and after it was sold, was it not in thine own power?” (Acts v. 4). So that, before the property was sold, the Apostle acknowledged that it was of right the property of Ananias; and even after it was sold, there was no necessity upon him to give it up to the Apostles. His sin was, not in the retaining of his goods, but in pretending to give all, and yet keeping back a part.
There are numerous injunctions to provide for our families (Acts xx. 35. 2 Cor. xii. 14. 1 Tim. v. 8), — to give alms (Matt, vi. 1; x. 42), — to make friends of the mammon of unrighteousness (Luke xvi. 9), — to lay by in store as God prospers us, and then to give (1 Cor. xvi. 2), — to feed the hungry and clothe the naked (Matt. xxv. 35, &c.), — to call the maimed, the lame, and the blind to our feasts (Luke xiv. 13), — to do good as we have opportunity (Gal. vi. 10), — to distribute to the necessity of the saints (Rom. xii. 13), — to give with a willing mind (2 Cor. viii. 12), not grudgingly or of necessity, as knowing that God loveth a cheerful giver (2 Cor. ix. 7), —to be given to hospitality (Rom. xii. 13) — to use hospitality one to another without grudging (1 Pet. iv. 9). All these precepts, whilst they impose the strongest obligations to abundant and most liberal almsgiving, yet presuppose the existence of distinct possessions, and of different ability to give in the different members of the Church. If all things were common, the grace and duty of giving from our own private means would thereby have become impossible. So again, the recognized distinction between master and servant, the one being enjoined to be just and liberal, the other honest and obedient, proves the difference of condition and the possession of property (Eph. vi. 5‒9. Col. iv. 1. Philem. 10‒20).
Especially, where the Apostles address the rich, and bid them to be rich in good works and bountiful to others, they clearly show, that there may be rich men in the Christian community, and that such may fulfil their Christian obligations, and lay up a good foundation for the future by giving liberally, though they do not sell all that they have. For example: “Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches … that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come” (1 Tim. vi. 17‒19). “Whoso hath this world’s good’s, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?” (1 John iii. 17). “To do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased” (Heb. xiii. 16). Thus then Scripture plainly confirms the teaching of the Church, that “the goods of Christian men are not common as touching the right, title, and possession of the same: “but yet that every man, as a follower of Christ, has the most cogent and inevitable obligation, “liberally to give alms to the poor, according to his ability.”
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]]>The post The Only Security appeared first on The North American Anglican.
]]>Whether times are tumultuous or calm, Christians must ask what it means to be a Christian.
In tumultuous times such as these, the question certainly feels more urgent. The assertion that Christians do not have to hold to traditional moral standards is a tacit redefinition of what it means to be a Christian. Recently in the Roman Catholic church, for example, Pope Francis’ attack on the Church’s traditional moral standards has led to discussions of what Catholicism is.[1]
Though not so urgent-seeming in good times—when Christians are not attacked, and their traditions operate without much strife—Christians still want to be “good Christians.” They must know what a Christian is if they are going to be a good one. In the words of a contributor to this site, Father Charles Erlandson, “definitions [tell us] what should be.” In his case, a full definition of Anglicanism would show how to be Anglican.[2]
Typically, there is available a given definition; this “given” is carried through by tradition. Tradition seeks to protect the given from and apply the given to, what is new. But such is the history of Christianity that challenges and inquiries have never ceased, and these challenges come from within the church as much as from without.
This never-ending need to ask what a Christian is does not appear to me necessarily ignoble. Modern men already suffer from a frontier-less world, and it is good we have some noble questions that will always interest us.
Sometimes, however, the attempt to define Christianity is in fact malicious—consider Thomas Hobbes.
Atheistic philosophers like Hobbes have, from time to time, sought to provide a simple definition of Christianity. Hobbes did so in the hope that a simple definition would bring about a more tolerant society. He hoped an English monarch would be able to unify Christians with a simple definition of Christianity, one that might relieve them of the trouble caused by theological and moral questions that had traditionally divided them. Christians, Hobbes hoped, could put aside all those other questions and simply agree on “the only necessary article of Christian faith, [namely,] that Jesus is the Christ.”[3] If some subject of the English commonwealth started causing trouble by demanding that Christians develop specific ideas about theology and morals, he could be branded a troublemaker because, after all, he is no more a Christian than any of the other Christians. All Christians, as Christians, are equal; and, if they are equal, no one of them has a right to assert a preeminence over the others.[4] If a man demands that his fellow Christians develop specific ideas about theology and morals, he appears to be challenging the equality that exists between Christians. Hobbes hoped that a monarch might establish the simple definition and therefore establish a wide equality, from which he could neutralize all the busy-bodies who wanted to “improve” their fellows with fancy ideas about theology or big claims about morality.
There may be some Christians who, out of a love of equality, profess belief in this sort of thing. They don’t want other men engaging in theology or preaching strict morals because they believe these kinds of topics are unnecessary to the faith and divisive. If they permit men these kinds of pursuits, they circumscribe them by saying they are unimportant—if a man takes theology or moral philosophy too seriously, he becomes divisive and therefore unchristian, or less of a Christian. According to this way of thinking, a good Christian accepts anyone who says “Jesus is the Christ” and opposes anyone who asks what that means. Of course, few Christians take things this far. But if Christians do not adopt the Hobbesian definition, then they have to seek out a more complex explanation for what it means to believe that “Jesus is the Christ.” Indeed, this is what must be done in any event because simple definitions do not solve the problems they are fashioned to solve. The article of faith, that “Jesus is the Christ,” and all other similar attempts at simplification, are in need of explanation. Since they are in need of explanation, all the theological and moral questions—and quite a few others—are raised and must be answered.
Once an explanation is attempted, the simple answers which, I repeat, tend to be born from atheism, are left behind, and complex or full answers need to be sought out. Before I try to explain this search, allow me to point out two things about these simple definitions.
First, if a simple definition ever produces a unity, it is a false and weak unity. The slightest inclination to question will break it. If men seek to enforce this unity, they become hypocritical—as we see today. There are Christian hypocrites that ostracize anyone who wishes to deepen the faith, and they do so on the grounds that the attempt to deepen the faith is exclusionary. They “marginalize” some Christians because those Christians have ideas that might “marginalize” others. – You can imagine (and have probably witnessed) a situation where a Christian denounces sin, and then is denounced for speaking about sin, on the grounds that it is a sin to speak about sin, especially in front of sinners.
Second, simple definitions encourage—sometimes intentionally, always incidentally—assimilation to the World. A simple definition allows, invites, the World to dictate what it means to be a Christian, because it is the World that represents the “baseline” or “given”; refusing to accept the moral standards and general opinions in the workplace, in a business setting, in school, and so on makes a person potentially disagreeable. Unless Christians allow themselves to be disagreeable people, they will eventually assimilate to the prevailing culture.
A full definition makes it possible for Christians to avoid these two pitfalls. A full definition would provide Christians a way to be Christian. For example, Roman Catholics believe that “Jesus is the Christ” means Christians must seek absolution from an ordained priest. Obviously, this is debatable, but all full definitions are debatable. The difference between what I am calling “full” and “simple” definitions is really this awareness regarding the inevitability of disagreement; those who recognize this inevitability are seeking out full definitions. Those who wish to abolish the possibility of disagreement and its resulting strife, by defining disagreement away, are trying to make answers rather than discover answers. They are living within a fortress of denial: they say, “in here, the problems are solved because we need them to be solved.”
Outside of this Ostrich Fortress, we admit to ourselves that the problems of theology and morality remain vital, and that the definitions must be sought (and will be sought). The troublesomeness of this quest is a result of its being a very important quest, and the only way to abolish the troubles is to deny its importance. Anything of importance to man becomes troublesome to him when he errs.
The great difficulty of a full definition is that it requires teleological perfection, i.e., a full definition includes the entirety of what it means to be a Christian. This requirement is what really motivates people to adopt the simple definition. I’ll elaborate on this difficulty but before I do it is important to note: the difficulty is unavoidable and the attempt to seek refuge in a simple definition doesn’t solve anything. To illustrate the difficulty, I’ll set down a few questions, the answers to which all suggest that a Christian is a perfect man, that Christianity requires perfection or at least a striving for perfection.
There are also, of course, the passages in the New Testament that suggest perfection is necessary, but I am trying to speak here only of what is strictly necessary—our minds must work this way, and it’s only wishful thinking that leads us to deny full definitions of Christianity.[5]
This need for perfection can have its edge taken off it if we admit that, though a thing be imperfect, it does not necessarily cease to be the thing we think it is, not altogether anyway. An imperfect Christian does not cease being a Christian because he is imperfect.
Now, I know some say, being imperfect is the very definition of being a Christian. This is a contemporary form of the “simple definition” insofar as it creates hypocrites. It’s not a real definition because it’s not a tenable definition. Consider: there are few (if any) perfectly healthy animals of any kind. Imperfection is typical. But if we took that imperfection for being the definition, then an extremely healthy animal would thereby become less an animal than the more imperfect, sicker, animal. And just so, people espousing this definition often attack the less imperfect Christians on the grounds that to be a Christian is to be imperfect.
So, while the definition of what a Christian is cannot be “imperfect,” there are, nevertheless, imperfect Christians just as there are less healthy and even unhealthy animals. This distinction is not unimportant: for the imperfect being must strive its whole life to become what it was meant to be. If we accept a full definition of Christianity, then every Christian will be aware of the need to strive for perfection, but if the definition of the Christian is “imperfection,” there develops an inescapable tendency to hypocrisy and non-sense as those who strive become less of a Christian by that striving.[6]
Further, the question of authority—ever important, no matter how much people would like to pretend it isn’t—is clarified when we admit that the more perfect Christians (or more mature Christians, if you want to use one of the less offensive translations of τέλειος[7]) are the natural authorities on theological and moral questions, indeed on all questions Christians debate.
Unity can therefore only ever be aimed at perfection, however imperfect the body of Christians so aiming may be.
There cannot be a unity around anything other than perfection—even around beliefs as important as the inerrancy of Scripture or the sovereignty of God’s grace. Take the question of gay marriage or even the ordination of women: scripture is clear on these things, but through the interpretation of imperfect men it is claimed that homosexuality is not a sin, or at least isn’t so much of a sin, or not a sin we should consider sinful or more deleterious than other sin; and the ordination of women is called “scriptural.” In other words, the only safety to be found is in the right interpretation by men who, if not perfect, have devoted their entire lives to perfection. Is an institution holy? It might be, if it be made up of holy men. Is the scripture holy? It is, when it is properly understood by men quickened by God’s grace. Is there any security other than a fellowship of mature and faithful men? I claim there is not and to support this claim I point to the dialectical power of the definition.
From the point of view of an immature Christian or a non-Christian—what I have said may not sound very helpful. An immature Christian might understand that only a mature Christian can be counted upon to really uphold the inerrancy of Scripture, but then the immature man is troubled by the fact that he is not a mature Christian, and so how is he to know which interpretation is done by a mature Christian and which by an immature or imperfect believer?
Thankfully there are signs, both miraculous and human, that help us. Mature Christians leave behind testaments to their attainments—for example, the Book of Common Prayer is such a testament. The BCP combines beauty and longevity; if the BCP were to be found by complete aliens to Anglo-Christianity, it would still be recognized as a book of authority and good counsel. An immature Christian seeking out mature Christians would do well to join communities of Christians where such achievements as the Book of Common Prayer can be found.
It should be admitted that other Christian traditions also have had these good men, and these good men have left their marks as they always tend to do. Consider the Westminster Confession of Faith or the many cathedrals that enliven continental Europe. Christians of immense intelligence, will, and foresight were inspired—by nature and the divine—to call men to their noble natures and perfect fatherland.
A man longing for God but feeling mixed-up or perplexed isn’t left in the dark; first, there is nature herself that attests to God. Second, there are the works of men of God. A man pursuing his innermost necessity, a man on his quest for God, will find guidance to the truth; he can find mature Christians in his day sitting at the feet of mature Christians of yesterday.
We are moved to strive for unity as we are moved to strive for a full definition, i.e., for perfection. We want the name Christian applied to those who are as close to maturity as can be, and we must worry when it is gently applied to very many immature men.
Be that as it may, let the drive for unity work as strongly as the drive for perfection. There is a discernible difference between the men who strive and the men who malign striving as “discriminatory” or “exclusive.” There is a discernible difference between men who are debating the definition of a Christian and those who see debate as divisive. Finally, there is a discernible difference between those who embrace the quest for definition and those who wish to abolish the need for definitions because they cannot face up to the implications of that need. Between the former, there might be a formal disunity—but it is not a noxious disunity. Between the former and the latter, there is an irreconcilable disunity and therefore a genuine conflict.
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]]>The post Blurb for “The Witness of Beauty”: Timon Cline appeared first on The North American Anglican.
]]>“These essays will be, at times, unsettling for the American Protestant reader. Defying (recent) conventional wisdom and trends, James Clark moves through wide-ranging considerations of politics and culture, including insights on everything from architecture to Thomas Aquinas to Christopher Nolan, drawing on influences from Plato to Cardinal Ratzinger to Rod Dreher. Most provocative is his interrogation of the viability of natural law arguments in our present context. Rejecting all forms of emotivism, but appealing beyond rational polemics, Clark invokes beauty as the antidote, the witness, to our decidedly irrational milieu. The best weapon for Christians today is not better arguments but a better life, one that points to God through natural knowledge and a deliberate manifestation of beauty which bears its own verification. On this and much else, Clark flips the script, paradoxically clearing the way for natural law and Biblical ethics, properly situated.”
~Timon Cline, Editor-in-Chief, American Reformer~
Watch here for more updates on “The Witness of Beauty and Other Essays” by James Clark.
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]]>The post Brothers (and Sisters), We Ought Not Be Congregationalists appeared first on The North American Anglican.
]]>Many fail to realize that the ACNA is functionally a congregationalist denomination
where the laity rarely see beyond their local parish, aside from the yearly episcopal
visitation. Few are engaged at the diocesan level, and even fewer at the provincial
level.
Before I go any further I will note that I first met Mr. Walton more than a decade ago and have found him to be friendly – while we’re not close I count him a friend – and appreciate his work. I am, however, compelled to interact with his assertion there.
On one level it could be argued that his argument has some validity. Anglicanism, while not the wax of nose that some wish to portray it as, can at times be a roomy church. Since 2021 I have served as Rector of a predominately white, Central to Highish Church parish in a Diocese that is overwhelmingly black and largely tends toward a more Low Church expression of faith. We’re located a couple of hours from the center of mass of our diocese and, especially given my aversion to meetings (as with so many other things I agree with Dr. Thomas Sowell that people who enjoy meetings should never be in charge of anything) the temptation to hang out here in Savannah and do my own thing might easily be yielded to.
That would be wrong, however. What is often overlooked is the fact that as a cleric my membership has been in the diocese (or a diocese) since I was made a deacon in 2001. Most of that time has been spent serving parishes on at least a part-time basis and a good bit of that time I served as a chaplain but I also didn’t do that as a freelancer but as a clergyman of my respective jurisdiction. While my bishop had no say over my hiring or firing in that role if I chose to go out of the bounds of the Formularies I should’ve rightly expected to be called to account.
The parish is where most of the ministry of the Church takes place and I have long argued that the way to have a strong diocese is primarily to build and sustain strong parishes, but as parishes, we aren’t free agents nor are we, or at least should we be, independent entities who do our own thing while periodically sending money to the diocese and welcoming the bishop once a year. Clergy need to be involved at the diocesan level and laity should as well.
Which brings me to a related matter. In his comments, Mr. Walton stated that few laity were engaged at the diocesan level and fewer still at the provincial level. At least as far as the provincial level the same might be said of most clergy as well even, as he charged in another Tweet (or whatever we’re calling them these days) “. . .small parish rectors whose world is perhaps overly concerned with wider dispute.” As a rector seeking to rebuild a small parish following COVID-19 and the near-simultaneous departure of several families for Rome, that seemed an awful lot like being told to stay in my lane.
When the ACNA was formed in 2009 I was working as a hospice chaplain and assisting in a parish on a largely non-stipendiary basis when the Inaugural Assembly was held in Bedford, Texas. I was not a clergy delegate from my diocese but went on my own dime, taking time off of my job, to attend because I wanted to be there for an historic event. Registration cost several hundred dollars and my flight cost more (thankfully I stayed with the family of a deacon and friend who was attending, so lodging wasn’t an issue). It was a good experience and I was glad that I went.
When the second Assembly was held at Ridgecrest near Black Mountain, North Carolina, in 2012 I was serving as Vicar of a small rural parish and was one of the delegates from my diocese. My diocese paid my registration in advance but I was asked to repay at least some of it as the diocesan funds were tight. I took several days off, drove to the mountains, experienced several days of worship, workshops, and seminars, and got to visit Black Mountain, where I lived for the first six and a half years of my life. The actual business portion of the Assembly ran about two hours of the four days’ work I lost.
An Assembly will once again be held this June in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, The time for the Early Bird rate of $375 per person has passed, but one may still register for $475 until March, after which attendance will run $600. That does not include meals, travel, or lodging.
I’m sure a good time will be had by all and am blessed to serve a parish that could afford to send me if I wanted to go. Still, in many cases, clergy and laity will be spending upwards of a thousand dollars and perhaps more if they wish to attend and, by design, I suspect the business portion of the meeting will run a couple of hours.
I am aware that most of the real work regarding legislation is done by the Provincial Council. The job of the Assembly is to approve or veto their actions as appropriate. Service on the Council entails an annual (as opposed to at least every five years) meeting and if one wishes to serve on the Executive Committee one must agree to attend quarterly meetings, the location of which varies.
All of that is fine, well, and good. I respect those who can commit the time and money required to serve but it does raise the question of what sort of clergy and laity can commit to such service. Many ACNA parishes are not large and not a few clerics serve in a tentmaking capacity, following the example of St. Paul in Acts 18:3. Attending meetings incurs expense, and even if those costs are covered by their parish or diocese, work still must be missed. That’s even truer for the laity unless they are retired, affluent, or self-employed and I suspect that it has ramifications for both bodies. As currently constituted the system limits participation. I suspect that in many cases it’s not so much that there isn’t a lack of a desire to participate but that it’s difficult to afford to.
I wish that I had a solution that would make it easier for more clergy and laity to participate in these bodies, but I do not. What I do know is that while attending meetings is often far from the most exciting way to spend one’s time it is important to do so rather than retreating into one’s own congregational cocoon. Clerics need to be churchmen, attending synods and assemblies and laymen should be encouraged to do so as well.
In 2002 Baptist pastor and theologian John Piper wrote Brothers, We Are Not Professionals: A Plea to Pastors for Radical Ministry attacking the professionalization of the ministry and urging a call to a more prophetic role. While I share his disdain for professionalist careerism, I found his title a bit poorly chosen because I firmly believe that excellence should be our aim as we minister, whether we’re receiving a paycheck or not. That being said, as Anglicans we are a part of a connectional body and so, brothers (and sisters), we ought not be congregationalists and as long as we are we will be a loose confederation rather than the Province we aspire and purport to be.
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]]>The post Exerpt #4 From “The Witness of Beauty and Other Essays” by James Clark appeared first on The North American Anglican.
]]>“There is never a situation in which we have no choice but to commit sin. God does not oblige us to break the very laws that are derived from His eternal Being, and those who teach otherwise, however well-intentioned their motives, are laying a grievous millstone on the necks of their listeners.”
~James Clark~
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