Mike's musings

Corpus Christi

(backposting) Today was Corpus Christi. I find much of the ceremonial - and devotion - that goes on around this feast very difficult. In fact, it was at a Roman Catholic Corpus Christi service that I first started to understand my Anglican sensibilities. So, I won't be attending any services. But recent conversations and discussions - on this blog, as much as anything else - are helping me to understand a little more about other people's theologies and my own.

Labels: theology

Heresy discussions

In these enlightened times, we are able to discuss the heresy of others without burning them at the stake, because we don't actually have to meet them face to apostatic face: we can have discussions on the Internet. The last couple of days have yielded some very thoughtful comments, and I invite you to have a look here, on my Sunday post.

Today's been another productive day at work - more so than I'd expected, in fact, which is rather pleasing. And to top it all off, I've done some hand-washing my hotel bathroom: oh, the excitement. It's astonishing how dirty clothes get, too: though that's probably related to the fact that I wore one set of them over 26 hours of travel. Yeuch.

Labels: theology, work

Equality and an ordained priesthood

(backposting) Helen asked the following (extremely good) question about yesterday's post:

• Genuine question: Thinking of Sally's post about standing with the people during the covenant, and the fact that you were standing behind the altar - how do you reconcile this 'equality for all' to the idea of an ordained priesthood?

The answer, I think, is that I believe that there's an assumption of equality with regard s to salvation. That doesn't mean that I don't believe there's anything special about an ordained priesthood. Or even that I don't believe that there's nothing ontologically different about an ordained priesthood. But that doesn't mean that I believe that there's anything ontologically special about the human beings (read "sinners") who are ordained as priests.

To explain somewhat, I'm very aware that priests are sinners, because we are all - as humans - sinners. But what it means to be ordained priest is to accept a charge from God - through the church - and to accept the responsibility and authority (mainly the former) that this brings. The ability to perform the duties of a priest is a charism (or set of charisms) no different in many ways from many other charisms. And it is, of course, God-given. The acceptance of the vocation to priesthood, both by the man or woman accepting it, and by the Church, is a huge responsibility. The ordination is the acceptance of this charge by the person ordained and by the Church, and the sacrament through which God endows it, is something special. But the person accepting it is, and remains, and human, a sinner, and equal with all those other humans around him and her.

Labels: priest, theology

The rich young man, the camel and the needle

I should really have posted this in the Sunday entry, but I only remembered it last night after posting then, so I thought I'd add it today. Last Sunday, the Gospel reading was Mark 10:17-31, which is the story of the rich young man, who asks Jesus what to do to inherit eternal life (and I've just thought: isn't "inherit" an interesting word here?). This is a very challenging text for almost all of us in the Western World, particularly those who are employed and financially stable, and I'd preface all my remarks by pointing out that I'm very aware that I run a great risk, here, of falling into an analysis of the text from a position of power and privilege: something which we must always do with scepticism and a hermeneutics of suspicion.

I read the Gospel having been particularly struck, in Sunday's service, by the power of the Summary of the Law in the Dominical Commandments ("love God above all others, love your neighbour as yourself", from Mark 12:29-31). And then I read the Gospel. And in the passage, Jesus recites some of the commandments to the rich young man. But he does not mention loving God above all others - or, in fact, reference the need to love your neighbour as yourself. And this means that the rich young man never gets to say "I've always done those, too!"

I've always been rather suspicious of the argument that Jesus is warning against idolising money above all else, and that we're safe as long as we don't do that, though this fits in well with Paul's warnings about idolising money, or possessions, or sex. However, I think that it's probably a fair one, as long as we keep in mind the dangers.

Labels: Jesus, money, theology

At home, and downtrodden

(backposting) Downtrodden in two ways, really. The first was that work didn't go well today. Not that it went badly - it was just that all the things I was trying to do, at least in the afternoon, took rather longer than I'd expected, and were more difficult. Rather disappointing, given that I'd had rather a productive morning when I managed work out a rather knotty problem and find a rather nice solution.

The other was being accused, by my (lovely) wife, of "selective washing up". I think this was a suggestion that I'd not been bothering to do the more difficult or dirty pots and pans, but I was hurt by it, as I'm sure everyone will understand.

The day was improved by a) having a pub lunch with Moo and b) having lamb with baked beans for supper. There's something very special about the taste of lamb with baked beans, particularly warmed up roast lamb, and I think God must have known about baked beans when he made roast lamb so yummy. This caused some theological disagreement on my Facebook page, but I welcome controversy.

Labels: food, theology

Cricket, deacons, and the theology of Torchwood

In reverse order, then.

This week's mini-series of Torchwood has attracted a lot of interest, and lots of people I know are talking about it. It seems silly not to mine it for theological content, because it was full of it. The more obvious bits included:

• the brokenness of all characters, particularly when humans are working together in organisations
• the "an injury to one is an injury to all" message
• the deathscene between two gay characters - played absolutely "straight", as it would have been for any heterosexual characters, just highlighting love and loss
• Gwen's sylloquy to camera about understanding why "The Doctor" (read "God") doesn't step in on every occasion to save the day: it's because humans aren't worth it
• child trafficking
• treatment of people - and particularly children - at the "lower ends" of society as if they are basically worthless ("... what do we have school league tables for?")
• the treatment of children in care ("... they were chosen because they wouldn't be missed.")
• the treatment of those with mental illness
• how parenthood - or impending parenthood - changes you
• how impending parenthood - and disasters - affect relationships
• the "sacrificial atonement" which ended the last episode, where Captain Jack Harkness' grandson was killed to save the rest of mankind - or at least the 10% of the children demanded by the 456

How many sermons in that? It was, for my money, and intensely theological - and very thought-provoking - set of programmes. Very well done the BBC.

Deacons? Well, it was Sally's first Sunday as a deacon in the parish, and it was a joy. It made me really, really happy. Not just for her, but for me, too. I really enjoyed my deacon's year, and seeing her taking the role I've spent a year at made me feel so much part of a continuum, particularly as she's a woman. This whole "continuum" of priesthood is very powerful for me at the moment.

Last, and far from least, we managed to draw the first of the Ashes test matches. Quite how, I don't know. But I'm one of many, many England supporters who wants to marry Collingwood or Monty or Anderson or a combination of the 3. Yay!

Labels: television, theology

Preparing for my first communion

A ten-mile bike ride, having pumped up the tyres with my new stirrup pump (Father's Day present). Nice to be riding it again - I started at the end of the autumn, I think - getting the pump (which I'd asked for) was an incentive to get back into it.

I also had quite a long session with my incumbent, John, where we prepared for my first Communion service on Sunday. We walked through the whole service, and had lots of discussion about various aspects. The bit we spent most time on (unsurprisingly) was the Eucharist prayer, and in particular the gestures that he uses. I'd previously spent quite a lot of time talking to my Dad about what he does, and we also had discussion about it during the CME day the other week. Part of the discussion, I'm pleased to say, was about the theology being expressed by the gestures, and John is very happy for my practice to be different to his (as is my Dad). I'm pleased to have spent so much time thinking and talking about this: I'm sure my practice will change, but it should be firmly based in my theology.

As part of the walk-through, I said most of the service. It was interesting to note which bits of the Eucharist prayer I didn't want to say. It was also interesting to note that I think that I'll find giving the Absolution for the first time as affecting, in its own way, as my first prayer of consecration. It's going to be a very emotionally charged day on Sunday, but I'm looking forward to it very much indeed.

On a lighter note, John's the one with the beard...

Labels: communion, ordination, theology

Dementia and belief

At Moo's suggetsion, I listened to the podcast of a recent Beyond Belief from Radio 4. It was about dementia, and how religions - and their adherents - deal with it. It was excellent, very thought-provoking, and extremely moving. I came across the phrase "Ubuntu theology", in relation to Archbishop Tutu, and it really struck a chord. I'm aware of the word "ubuntu" because I use Ubuntu Linux, and its overtones of community, but Ubuntu theology, which apparently was formed at least partly in response to Afrikaaner theology which was defending apartheid, has been summed up by Tutu as "I am because you are". This works very well for a sermon I'm going to be preaching at Boo's baptism. I've been wondering how to centre it, and now I know.

Labels: baptism, sermon, theology

Preaching on the Trinity

It's the one everyone worries about: preaching on the Trinity. Either it's easy to explain - and impossible to understand - or it's impossible to explain - and easy to understand. That's received wisdom, anyway. I was preaching in Colne Engaine, to a family service which a fair percentage of children.

I ended up preaching analogies - and noting that they're both useful and near useless. I used a few analogies, but my main one was cake. It's currently getting a bit of retweeting, which I'm quite chuffed about. The analogy I used was that the Trinity is a little like cake, in that you need ingredients, cooking and eating: they're all separate parts, but they're all required. I said the same about a conversation: you need a speaker, a listener and meaning. Or a song: music, words and singing. It all seemed to go down rather well, and I was quite pleased.

Jo was very sad when Mum and Dad went - lots of tears. So we went swimming, and had a lovely time. Kids went to sleep nice and quickly, and we're having a quiet time watching an old West Wing episode before going early to bed.

Labels: preaching, swimming, theology

Theology, prayer and wider life

I'm finding it quite hard to be reflective and theological in the midst of trying to work out where my professional life is going at the moment. There's still a possibility of a job via Certicom, at RIM, but I'm having to work out what other opportunities will present themselves, particularly as a job I was hoping might come together in the next couple of months has disappeared - for now, at least. So, I'm reading around moving into contracting, which is one option, and following up other leads, too. Time to get back in touch with those friends I've not spoken to a while, and do some good old networking.

Having said the above about theology, I've come up with a plan for what to preach about when I'm over in Bocking for Pentecost, as guest preacher(!). "Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees" - Isaiah 35.

And, to crown it all, we had to take Miri to Colchester Hospital A & E because her elbow ligament popped out again. My fault this time. "Strengthen ye the weak elbows" is more like it...

Labels: job, miri, prayer, theology

Incarnational redundancy

I've got lots of things I want to blog about at the moment from a theological point of view, from more issues around authority to further thoughts on the ontological issues around self-supporting ministry. But I've got to pick one, and the issue that's consuming a fair amount of my time at the moment is redundancy. As I've blogged before, my company has just started redundancy proceedings around my job. I'm not interested in going over the whys and wherefores, nor am I looking for sympathy (though prayers are always welcome). What I'd like to start investigating are some of the theological issues around redundancy, and particularly how it affects me and other self-supporting ministers.

When I announced the fact that I was going through redundancy proceedings on Facebook, a mate of mine (also a self-supporting minister) said:

Redundancy is, oddly, part of the incarnational aspect of being Self-Supporting. It's one of those aspects of life which we SSMs share with our punters/parishioners/victims/congregations. Going Stipendiary in such circumstances would be like giving up.

He was responding to a (tongue-in-cheek) comment from another friend, who'd pointed going full-time might be an option.

He expressed very well a feeling that I'd not have been able to articulate as well at this. I know from conversations with members of my congregation that people appreciate the fact that I can speak "from the pew" as it were. I think that because I have a job and share similar issues (or more obviously similar issues) with them, there's a feeling (which I'm sure isn't always justified) that there are things I can say that match more closely with the experiences of "the people in the pews".

However unjustified those feelings are, they are true in one particular, incarnational way, as my friend identified. I run the risk of losing my job, as few parochial clergy in the Church of England do. Standing by that means standing by them, too. I feel no more called away from full-time (secular) employment than I did when I made the decision to go with self-supporting ministry. Maybe I will some day, but that day isn't yet, and it wouldn't be honest to my vocation which is expressed both within my ordained ministry and in my secular life to decide suddenly to take up full-time ministry now.

Labels: job, theology

A problematic ontology of ministry: employment - and gender

I recently asked couple of questions on Twitter and Facebook:

• What is it to be clergy in non-church employ?
• Is our ministry ontologically different?

These are questions I've been interested in for a while, for obvious reasons: I'm what the Church of England calls a "Self-Supporting Minister" (and used to call a "Non-Stipendiary Minister"). In other words, I'm not employed by the church, but make my living elsewhere, giving time and ministry to the church. There are probably as many models for this as there are SSMs: some have a ministry firmly rooted within their secular employ; some work part-time and give lots of time to the church; some give what time they can, exercising some ministry within their secular job, some ministry within a typical church context, and some ministry in other contexts (this blog and various other online activities being examples from my life). But we all have in common that we neither receive a stipend from the church nor does it employ us full-time.

Before we go into any detail, I'd note that I've done little or no reading in this area, and that this brief essay is the result only of some thinking and discussions I've had. If you have some thoughts about further reading, I'd be interested to hear them.

How "part-timers" are seen

Yesterday we had a CME (Continuing Ministerial Education) seminar, just with some of the SSM curates in the diocese, and we had some interesting stories. We considered three constituencies: congregations, clergy and diocese. Some members of our congregation "get" it - some, indeed, welcome it, but the main questions (of a negative nature, at least) that arose within the congregational context seemed to relate to the amount of time that a non-full-time member of clergy can give to the church. From the stories we shared, there seemed to be little questioning of the legitimacy of the idea of self-supporting clergy. Indeed, some congregations seem to welcome the shared perspective which they may feel that "working" member of clergy can deliver in preaching and pastoral situations.

Although most of the interactions that we had experienced from clergy colleagues were positive, there were reports that some clergy colleagues see us as not committing ourselves to ministry to the extent that they do. Resentments that self-supporting clergy "cherry-pick" the best services and jobs within a team were backed up with one report of a member of clergy saying that "you lot haven't had to give up on a career like we have". Still, however, there seemed to be little suggestion over the legitimacy of self-supporting ministry, though suggestions of lack of commitment suggest lingering questions around a life which is defined by ministry.

In many ways, we, as group, didn't feel convinced that the diocese really knows how to deal with us in all contexts. The stories around how deanery and diocesan synods, chapter meetings, training events and the rest are routinely scheduled with little or no thought for those who work full or even part-time were greeted with resignation and recognition by all. Despite the growing reliance by all Church of England dioceses, self-supporting ministers don't seem to feature highly in the thoughts of many of them. This is, surely, partly because the needs and offerings of SSMs are - in some ways, at least - more diverse than those of the "typical" parish priest or curate.

None of this is new: my father has been an NSM for around 40 years, and I've heard similar stories from him over the years.What is it to be clergy in non-church employ? Is our ministry ontologically different? A word about that word: "ontologically". I'm using sense 2 of dictionary.com's definition of ontologically: Of or relating to essence or the nature of being. In other words, what I mean by the question "is our ministry ontologically different?" is "is there something about the nature of our ministry (that of clergy not employed by the church) that is different to that of those who are in the full-time employ of the church that exists because of that difference?"

A couple of clarifications here:

1. there's a big (and fascinating) question that's not unrelated about the nature of the ministry of those who are not ordained. I'm going to duck this question because I don't want to be diverted from this question, and not because I don't think it's important. Maybe another time.
2. although I've not been entirely clear above, what I'm really talking about is those who not "full-time" clergy: they have other responsibilities and activities which take up much of their time.

The Church of England has been part-addressing this question for over 40 years now, with NSMs and, more recently, the renamed SSMs. The view is that our ministry is equally valid as those who work full-time for the church. This doesn't mean that it's always easy to get this right, nor for everyone (lay or ordained) to appreciate it all the time, but that's the official story.

I think there's a problem with it, however - not with the answer, which I believe to be right - but in the theology that supports it. First let me note that I very much like the theory of ministry presented by Steven Croft in Ministry in Three Dimensions: A Theological Foundation for Local Church Leadership. The fundamental basis for his argument is that all ordained ministry is based on three qualities: diakonos (loosely: service), presbyteros (loosely: leadership) and episkope (loosely: oversight). That these three qualities provide the basis for the three generally accepted ordained orders (deacon, priest (or presbyters) and bishops (episcopals)) is no surprise, and acts as the starting point for his argument. But he is keen to point out that members of each order must possess each of the three qualities, though the amount to which they will be required will vary from person to person, from role to role, and from situation to situation - and through time. I don't think that this is particularly contentious theology, and I've certainly found it very helpful in my journey through discernment, to ordination, through my deacon's year, and in preparing for my ordination to the priesthood in June, God willing.

Being a bishop

But it raises a question: a big one, I think. "Is there something ontologically incompatible about being a bishop, and not full-time clergy?" Admittedly, as the role of bishop is currently figured, there is a great deal of time required for administration, visiting, etc. - and that's part of the oversight. But is that what oversight _needs_ to be about? And surely we should be figuring the bishop's role from first principles, rather than making the role fit what the job has become over the centuries? Why does this matter? Well, it doesn't matter to me - certainly at the moment! - in terms of preferment: I'm not even a priest yet, and thoughts of bishoprics are rather far off, and would be even if I were full-time. There are questions about how easy it is to become a bishop if one has not been a full-time priest, though: how can one "serve one's time" and move up the greasy pole? Well, _why_ should that be required? There are enough examples of brilliant bishops - and archbishops - who moved very quickly into their posts, without all the kerfuffle of parish incumbencies, becoming an archdeacon, a canon, a dean, etc.. And why do the diakonos, presbyteros and episkope exercised by those not in the church full-time not "count" towards the criteria required to become a bishop? Well, they're beginning to, I hope.

But there's something deeper going on here: something more ontological. If the church is not ready to accept that someone who is not full-time can enter the order whose defining characteristic is episkope - oversight - and become a bishop, then that casts grave doubts over the legitimacy of the episkope that is exercised by all those in the _other_ orders who are, likewise, not full-time. How can we figure a legitimate, and fully accepted diaconate and priesthood? To be clear, what I'm saying is that it is difficult to base an ontological understanding of the theology of the orders of the diaconate and the priesthood if there is no corresponding ontological understanding for the episcopal order.

Gender

So far, this entry - or essay - has been about the issue of employment, but the more I thought about the issues being discussed, the more I realised that we can't ignore the issue of gender. In the Church of England, we have not only no self-supporting ministers who are bishops - that is, no self-supporting bishops - but we also have no women ministers who are bishops: we have no woman bishops. Now, many self-supporting ministers - including me - maintain the option to move to full-time ministry. Although the nature of our role as ministers seems somewhat compromised by what comes down to our employment status - if you accept the argument presented above - we have the option to change that.

The same does not follow for women: the nature of the ontological problematic for them is more fundamental. For there is a corresponding problem about the legitimacy of woman deacons and woman priests if there are no woman bishops: the correspondence seems very close. Some members of the Church of England will accept that women can be priests and deacons, but cannot exercise "headship" (for which we can probably fairly safely substitute our word "episkope"), and therefore cannot become bishops. Others will not accept women and priests, but will accept them as deacons, whereas some will not accept them in any of the ordained orders. Given the argument above, I would argue that only the last set holds a consistent position, but a good deal of the work being done with regard to finding a settlement around the issue of woman bishops in the Church of England seems to centre around the group that will accept deacons and priests, but not bishops.

My view - and it's a strong one - is that the ministry of women is entirely legitimate, and I have no problems whatsoever with the ontological basis for it. More important, I don't believe that the lack of any woman bishops impacts on that legitimacy. However, the lack of the capability for there to be a woman bishop _does_ impact on the continued legitimacy of the ministry of women in the Church of England. Until we, as a church, can overcome this problem, ontological problems will remain, and will continue to allow doubts to remain about legitimacy.

A brief conclusion

I have no conclusion to offer, really, beyond to ask for more theological discussion around the ontology of ministry. We've avoided the question of non-ordained ministry, but even with a restricted scope, have identified what I believe to be two major - and growing - issues for ministry within the Church of England and the Anglican church as a whole. Part of the question, of course, revolves whether we accept in detail Croft's view of ministry in 3 dimensions, but whether we do or not, in the Anglican church we consider that there is a coherence between the 3 orders of ministry. This, then, casts concerns over how legitimate the church considers the ministry of self-supporting and woman ministers to be. I would stress that it does not matter whether this consideration is explicit or not: what matters is if the theology around which the ontology of ministry is based is coherent, and whether it introduces concerns over legitimacy.

Labels: church, ministry, theology, women

Anglicans and authority: William Beveridge

Although written around 1699, the first (incomplete) version of Discourse upon The Thirty-Nine Articles wasn't published until 1716, and this (complete) edition in 1840: Beveridge, William (1840) Ecclesia Anglicana Ecclesia Catholica or, The Doctrine of the Church of England consonant to Scripture, Reason and Fathers: in A Discourse upon The Thirty-Nine Articles agreed upon In The Convocation Held at London MDLXII, Oxford University Press, Oxford. (A bit of a mouthful!).

The clue here is very much in the title: it's about combining Scripture, Reason and the Church Fathers. There is a very strong argument from reason, and an enormous amount of footnoting in Greek, Latin Syriac and other languages. It's a work of considerable scholarship, though I think that much of the evidence presented would these days be felt to be weak, and sometimes misused. The care that is used, and the style of argument, can be seen in these excerpts from Article 6 (On the sufficiency of the Holy Scriptures for Salvation):

Thus we can see how careful the Fathers are to bring the canonical books into the scriptures, and truly they are as careful to keep the Apocryphal out. They acknowledge them, indeed, lawful to be read as we do, but not of the same authority with the former. (Beveridge, p. 286)

And thus we see how clear and express the Fathers are, not only in determining the same number of canonical books that is in this Article determined, but also in passing their judgment upon the Apocryphal books as this Article doth. Even that though the church reads them "for example of life, and instruction of manners," yet it doth not "apply them to establish any doctrine."

On a sidenote, the copy of the book that I borrowed from the relevant library seems to have been printed in 1840, had no other names in the borrowing list (it looks like it was acquired from the Lightfoot Library in 1977), and a good number of the pages had never been cut. Not a very popular book! That neither volume was fully cut means that I've not had a good chance to read it, and this is something I want to remedy. in particular, Articles 20 ("Of the Authority of the Church") and 21 ("Of the Authority of General Councils") deserve more attention than I could give them (as I couldn't actually open most of the pages...)

Labels: authority, theology

Anglicans and authority: John Jewel

The second piece of reading that I've done, and really very much enjoyed, is Archbishop Jewel: Jewel, John (1564) The Apology of The Church of England, trans. Bacon, Anne, ed. Jelf, Richard W. (1852), Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London. This book is in and of itself a jewel, and full of some fantastic theology and statements about the Church of England. Jewel, writing earlier than Hooker, is mainly concerned with defending the Church of England against the Church of Rome. A central statement of his position is this (Jewel, p. 21):

Furthermore, we believe, that there be divers degrees of ministers in the church: whereof some be deacons, some priests, some bishops: to whom is committed the office to instruct the people, and the whole charge and setting forth of religion. Yet notwithstanding, we say that there neither is, nor can be any one man, which may have the whole superiority in this universal state: for that Christ is ever present to assist his church, and needeth not any man to supply his room, as his only heir to all his substance: and that there can be no one mortal creature, which is able to comprehend or conceive in his mind the universal church, that is to wit, all the parts of the world, much less able rightly and duly to put them in order, and to govern them rightly and duly.

Here, Jewel is arguing against the claims of the Pope. A little later, he comes up with a brilliant argument against the supposed authority of the Roman Church over men's souls, which, though long, is worth quoting in full (Jewel, pp. 23-26):

Moreover we say that Christ hath given to his ministers power to bind, to loose, to open, to shut. And that the office of loosing consisteth in this point: that the minister should either offer by preaching of the gospel the merits of Christ, and full partdon to such as have lowly and contrite hearts, and do unfeignedly repent themselves, pronouncing unto the same a sure and undoubted forgiveness of their sins, and hope of everlasting salvation: or else that the same minister, when any have offended their brothers' minds with a great offence, with a notable and open fault, whereby they have, as it were, banished and made themselves strangers against the common fellowship, and from the body of Christ, then after perfect amendment of such persons, doth reconcile them, and bring them home again, and restore them to the company and unity of the faithful. We say also, that the minister doth execute the authority of binding and shutting, as often as he shutteth up the gate of the kingdom of heaven against the unbelieving and stubborn persons, denouncing unto them God's vengeance, and everlasting punishment: or else, when he doth quite shut them out from the bosom of the church by open excommunication. Out of doubt, what sentence soever the minister of God shall give in this sort, God himself doth so well allow of it, that whatsoever here in earth by their means is loosed and bound, God himself will loose and bind, and confirm in heaven.

And touching the keys, wherewith they may either shut or open the kingdom of heaven, we with Chrysostom say, "They be the knowledge of the scriptures:" with Tertullian we say, "They be the interpretation of the law:" and with Eusebius we call them, "The word of God."

Moreover that Christ's disciples did receive this authority, not that they should hear the private confessions of the people, and listen to their whisperings, as the common massing-priests do every where now-a-days, and do it so, as though in that one point lay all the virtue and use of the keys: but to the end they should go, they should teach, they should publish abroad the gospel, and be unto the believing a sweet savour of life unto life, and unto the unbelieving and unfaithful a savour of death unto death: and that the minds of godly persons being brought low by the remorse of their former life and errors, after they once began to look up unto the light of the gospel, and believe in Christ, might be opened with the word of God, even as a door is opened with a key. Contrariwise, that the wicked and wilful folk, and such as would not believe, nor return to the right way, should be left still as fast locked, and shut up, and, as St. Paul saith, "wax worse and worse." This take we to be the meaning of the keys: and that after this sort men's consciences either be opened or shut. We say, that the priest indeed is a judge in this case, but yet hath no manner of right to challenge an authority, or power, as saith Ambrose. And therefore our Saviour Jesu Christ, to reprove the negligence of the Scribes and Pharisees in teaching, did with those words rebuke them, saying: "Woe be unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, which have taken away the keys of knowledge, and have shut up the kingdom of heaven before men." Seeing then the key whereby the way and entry to the kingdom of God is opened unto us, is the word of the gospel, and the expounding of the law and scriptures, we say plainly, where the same words is not, there is not the key. And seeing one manner of word is given to all, and one only key belongeth to all, we say, that there is but one only power of all ministers, as concerning opening and shutting. And as touching the bishop of Rome, for all his parasites sate, and ringly sing these words in his ears, "To thee will I give the keys of the kingdom of heaven, " (as though those keys were fit for him alone, and for nobody else,) except he go so to work, as men's consciences may be made plaint, and be subdued to the word of God, we deny that he doth either open, or shut, or hath the keys at all. And although he taught and instructed the people, (as would God he might once truly do, an persuade himself it were at the least some piece of duty,) yet we think his key to be never a whit better, or of greater force than other men's. For who hath severed him from the rest? Who hath taught him more cunningly to open, or better to absolve than his brethren?

A long section, indeed, but it sums up rather well Jewel's theology, I think. For him, the Word is paramount, and the Church of Rome has tried to claim far too much authority. He is again attacking those of the Church of Rome when he writes:

Therefore the holy scriptures, which our Saviour Jesus Christ did not only use for authority in all his speech, but did also at last seal up the same with his own blood, these men, to the intent that they might with less business drive the people from the same, as from a thing dangerous and deadly, have used to call them a bare letter, uncertain, unprofitable, dumb, killing, and dead: which seemeth to us all one as if they should say, "The scriptures are to no purpose, or as good as none."

Jewel, at the end of the book, shows an interesting side to the argument. He's not necessarily suggesting that the Church of England has everything right, but he feels that the Church of Rome has moved away from God (Jewel, pp. 154-155):

Wherefore if the pope will have us be reconciled to him, his duty is first to be reconciled to God. For from thence, saith Cyprian, spring schisms and sects, because men seek not the head, and have not their recourse to the fountain (of the scriptures), and keep not the rules given by the heavenly teacher. For, saith he, that is not peace, but war; neither is he joined unto the church, which is severed from the gospel. As for these men, they use to make a merchandise of the name of peace. For that peace which they fain would have, is only a rest of idle bellies. They and we might easily be brought to atonement, touching all these matter, were it not that ambition, and gluttony, and excess did let it. Hence cometh their whining, their heart is on their halfpenny. Out of doubt their clamours and stirs be to none other end, but to maintain more shamefully and naughtily ill-gotten things.

Jewel's position (which does sometimes fall into the invective), then, is that the Church of Rome has moved away from the true church, and holds on to its position of error partly - or largely - through the corruption of the Pope. It is _we_ who are Catholics he says, in yet another piece of brilliant theology (Jewel, pp. 16-17):

Wherefore, if we be heretics and they (as they would fain be called) be catholics, why do they not, as they see the fathers, which were catholic men, have always done? Why do they not convince and master us by the divine scriptures? Why do they not call us again to be tried by them? Why do they not lay before us, how we have gone away from Christ, from the prophets, from the apostles, and from the holy fathers? Why stick they to do it? Why are they afraid of it? It is God's cause. Why are they doubtful to commit it to the trial of God's word? If we be heretics, which refer all our controversies unto the holy Scriptures, and report us to the self-same words which we know were sealed by God himself, and in comparison of them set little by all other things, whatsoever may be devised by men; how shall we say to these folk, I pray you, what manner of men be they, and how is it meet to call them, which feat the judgment of the holy scriptures, that is to say, the judgment of God himself, and do prefer before them their own dreams, and full cold inventions: and, to maintain their own traditions, have defaced and corrupted, now these many hundred years, the ordinances of Christ and of the apostles?

Jewel sees himself as a reformer: someone who is trying to re-form the church into what it once was: a body built on the word of God, and informed by that above all things. It is writing such as this, with its rhetoric and theology, that convinces me that I am, in many things, a Protestant - and a Reformation Protestant, at that.

Labels: authority, faith, PhD, protestantism, theology

Anglicans and authority: Richard Hooker

For a while, now, I've been doing some preparation work for a possible PhD around Anglican understandings of authority. This has involved a bunch of reading, and I've really enjoyed it. What I've started with has been some reading of the early theologians of the Church of England. I thought I'd record some of the reading I've been doing, as if all goes well, I'll need to be coming back to my thoughts.

The first piece of reading I did was some Richard Hooker, one of the Church of England's great theologians: Hooker, Richard (1593) The Folger Library Edition of The Works of Richard Hooker, Vol. 1: Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, ed. Speed Hill, W., Belknap Press, Cambridge, Mass.. Best is probably to set out some of the chapter synopsis provided by Hooker for his first book (Hooker, pp. 55-56):

9 Of the benefit of keeping that lawe which reason teacheth.

10 How reason doth leade men unto the making of humane lawe, whereby politique societies are governed, and to agreement about lawes whereby the fellowship or communion of independent societies standeth.

11 Wherefore God hath by scripture further made knowne such supernaturall lawes as doe serve for mens direction.

12 The cause why so manie naturall and rationall lawes are set downe in holie scripture.

13 The benefit of having divine lawes written.

14 The sufficiencie of scripture unto the end for which it was instituted.

15 Of lawes positive conteined in scripture, the mutabilitie of certaine of them, and the generall use of scripture.

16 A conclusion, shewing how all this belongeth to the cause in question.

From chapter 16, we have (Hooker, pp. 138-139): "In reasonable and morall actions another law taketh place, a law by the observation whereof we glorifie God in such sort, as no creature els under man is able to doe, because other creatures have not judgement to examine the quality of that which is done to them, and therfore in that they doe, they neyther can accuse or approve themselves. Men do both, as the Apostle teacheth, yea, those men which have no written lawe of God to show what is good and evill, carrie written in their hearts the universall law of mankind, the law of reason, whereby they judge as by a rule which God hath given unto all men for that purpose." He's keen on the importance of natural law, clearly. Slightly further on, he is talking about the importance of laws within nations - and between nations (Hooker, p. 56): "The publique power of all societies is above every soule contayned in the same societies. ... [E]xcept our owne private, and but probably resolutions be by the lawe of publique determinations overruled, we take away all possibilitie of sociable life in the worlde. A plainer example whereof then our selves we cannot have. How commeth it to passe that we are at this present day so rent with mutuall contentions, and that the Church is so much troubled about the Politie of the Church? No doubt if men had beene willing to learne how many lawes their actions in this life are subject unto, and what the true force of ech law is, all these controversies might have dyed the very day they were first brought forth." Hooker is writing not just about the contentions between the Church of England and the Roman Catholic Church, but also about issues within the Church of England, where he was battling against Puritan elements.

In the second book, he is arguing against those who "urge reformation in the Church of England: Namely That Scripture is the onely rule of all things which in this life may be done by men." He wants to show that God's rules come from beyond solely scriptural teaching (Hooker, p. 147-8): "To teach men therfore wisedome professeth, and to teach them every good way: but not every good way by one way of teaching. Whatsoever either men on earth, or the Angels of heaven do know, it is as a drop of that unemptiable fountaine of wisdom, which wisdom hath diversly imparted her treasures unto the world. As her waies are of sundry kinds, so her maner of teaching is not meerely one and the same. Some things she openeth by the sacred bookes of Scriture, some things by the glorious works of nature: with some things she inspireth them from above by spirituall influence, in some thinges she leadeth and trayneth them onely by worldly experience and practice. We may not so in any one speciall kind admire her that we disgrace her in any other, but let all her wayes be according unto their place and degree adored."

There are some interesting issues raised in chapter 6:

Our question is, whether all be sinne which is done without direction of scripture ...? (p. 169)

For in truth the question is not, whether an argument from scripture negatively may be good, but whether it be so generally good, that in all actions men may urge it. The Fathers I graunt do use verie generall and large tearmes, even as Hiero the King did in speaking of Archimedes, From hence forward whatsoever Archimedes speaketh, it must be believed. His meaning was not that Archimedes could simply in nothing be deceyved, but that he had in such sort approved his skill, that he seemed worthie of credit for ever after in matters appertaining unto the science he was skilfull in. ... Let any man therefore that caryeth indifferencie of judgement, persuse the Bishops [the Bishop of Salisbury's] speeches, and consider well of those negatives concerning the scripture, which he produceth out of Iran&aedigraph;us, Chrisostome, and Leo ... They mention no restraint in the one then in the other. ... (pp. 173-174)

In chapter 8, he helpfully (for our purposes, at least), lays out two contrary positions:

Two opinions therefore there are concerning sufficiencie of holy scripture, each extremely opposite unto the other, and both repugnant unto truth. The schooles of Rome teach scripture to be so unsufficient, as if, except traditions were added, it did not conteine all revealed and supernaturall truth, which absolutely is necessarie for the children of men in this life to know that they may in the next be saved. Others justly condemning this opinion growe likewise unto a daungerous extremitie, as if scripture did not onely containe all thinges in that kinde necessary, but al thinges simply, and in such sorte that to doe any thing according to any other lawe were not onely unnecessary, but even the opposite unto salvation, unlawfull and sinfull. Whatsoever is spoken of God or thinges appertaining to God otherwise then as the truth is; though it seeme an honour, it is an injurie. ... [W]e must ... take great heede, lest in attributing unto scripture more then it can have, the incredibillitie of that do cause even those things which indeed it hath most abundantly to be lesse reverendly esteemed. (Hooker, pp. 191-192)

The third book is "Concerning their second assertion, that in Scripture there must be of necessitie contained a forme of Church-politie the lawes whereof may in no wise be altered." It's fairly clear from the arguments above that Hooker looks beyond Scripture for rules - and rules are very important here, as he's writing around the time where Puritans are arguing that the nation should be ruled according to their views - based, they argue, on Scripture - and that the Church should also be separated from the state's tradition exertion of authority. Hooker, who wishes to keep the church as an Established church, is arguing against this strongly.

Labels: authority, PhD, theology

More veneration (or not)

So, thanks to everyone who responded to yesterday's post: I really appreciate the thought that people have clearly put into the comments. I've done some more thinking since yesterday, and the best way to explain some of that thought is to respond to some of your comments.

James wrote: "When you did so [kneeling to lead prayers], you did it in front of the Altar, not because you were worshipping the wooden table, but because it was an appropriate focus for your worship of God."

I find this interesting, because it's not why I did it at all. I knelt because I thought it was important to lead the congregation from a kneeling position, and I did it in front of the altar not because I saw it as an appropriate focus for my worship of God, but because if I'd knelt anywhere else, I would have been either hidden from view (by the altar) or separated physically from the congregation.

I can see why you thought I knelt there, and I wonder whether other people thought the same. It doesn't bother me that they might, but it's not why I did it.

Gary wrote: "Since the holy sacrament is the body and blood of our Lord, by definition we can (and should) pay reverence to it."

I disagree. I think that we should treat it with respect, and possibly lean towards showing reverence towards it (to employ James' original definition at face value), but I think that they word "pay" is a give-away here. Reverence, in practice, isn't as clear-cut as the definition seems to suggest. The cross is an object to which we do not owe anything. We only owe anything to God, not to physical objects.

The only exception might be the physical body of Christ, incarnated as a man, though he seems to have been pretty cagey about being treated specially, with the exception of washing and baptism, which are both actions which are extended to other people, too.

That said, I realise that I'm somewhat conflicted about this: I treat the physical book which comprises Bible, at least within a worship setting, with great respect - almost as much as the sacrament. I think this, however, is because or the importance I attach to the Word (which is contained within the Bible and which the Lord's Body in the sacrament is, of course). This is a pretty protestant position, I'd argue.

Sam talked about using icons as an aid to worship, and pointed to a useful blog entry about Corpus Christi.

I agree on this: and we have a set of Stations of the Cross in our church. My father's very attached to various sets that he knows or has, and I find some of the images helpful for meditation and prayer. I'm not, however, attached to the Stations of the Cross as a specific thing, in the same way that I've used prayer beads in the past, but am not attached to them as a specific process or requirement.

I genearally agree with the post about Corpus Christi, and I like the way Sam discussed the shift in emphasis of the phrase "corpus verum".

Sally bemoaned the lack of symbol in her tradition.

I find symbology very useful, too, and wouldn't want to lose it. It's when the symbols are used as more than that that I get unhappy, because I see this as a move to sacramentalism: moving beyond the sacraments to regarding objects as having a sacramental power. The reason, I think, that the bread and wine are special is that, as part of a sacrament, they are the body and blood our Our Lord. The Bible is special (and I still find it difficult to see people writing on a Bible!) because it's the Word: God's working in this world through the agency of the Holy Spirit.

KT suggested talking to the PCC.

I don't think this is needed, to be honest. I'm not worried about the legality of the service at all, and have already discussed my concerns about confession and absolution to my training incumbent (I'm in the first year of my title post, and not yet priested!), who was very supportive.

Neither am I worried about the service itself for general consumption (James has dealt very helpfully with the particular phrase that I picked up, and I acknowledge that his introduction is a good piece of guidance to the congregation), but what I'm trying to explore is how elements of the service - and, in many ways, the core assumption (now, _there's_ a word to reflect on...!) behind the service just doesn't fit with my theology. (I'd be interested to hear your situation, by the way, KT, if you'd like to share).

I rather hope that this isn't the end of it. I'm really enjoying this discussion with you all, and making myself think. This, for me, is Reflective Theology (cue Gary turning up in a day-glo jacket), and is a Good Thing[tm]. I'm not trying to inflict my theology on other people (yet...), but I'm interested to see where I'm being led with this, and it's to a re-affirmation of the protestant underpinnings of my theology and my faith. May the Holy Spirit guide us all.

Labels: liturgy, protestantism, theology, worship

To venerate or not to venerate: that is the question

On Good Friday, we have a service entitled "Veneration of the Cross and Liturgy of the Passion". This is taken from Common Worship's Good Friday Liturgy (though the service isn't called that in the relevant booklet), and includes this as part of the introduction (also not part of the booklet):

During this service a crucifix is brought into the Church and we all have the opportunity to come forward in prayer and adoration. As the crucifix is brought in we proclaim "This is the wood of the cross" remembering that our crucifix is a spiritual help in contemplating the Cross of Christ. As we come forward we gently kiss the feet of our Lord and Saviour, or bow our heads, and give thanks for the tremendous gift of Christ who shared our humanity and suffered with and for us.

The service uses the reserved sacrament, rather than consecrating on Good Friday: a practice which is traditional, and which I quite like (although I've previously enjoyed an ante-communion, where we start a service, and then finish it abruptly just before the eucharistic prayer).

Unluckily, I have some major problems with the service theologically. The first two are easily dealt with: there is no confession or absolution before receiving of the sacrament. I'm very unhappy about this, but we're going to have a hymn with a confessional element, and I think we'll put in an absolution.

The third issue is a more major one for me. I'm unhappy about the veneration of the cross. To me, it feels like idolatry. I know I'm coming over all Protestant on this, but I think this is an extension of one of my first major theological feelings, when I was very uncomfortable about a Roman Catholic service I once attended of Corpus Christi, where the host was processed - paraded - around the cathedral. A clergy friend of mine (from a more catholic tradition than mine) notes that:

[t]he first dictionary definition [of "veneration"] says "a feeling of profound respect for someone or something". Surely we can have profound respect for the representation of the cross because of what it represents.

First of all, I not sure that I agree with the definition, and secondly, I'm not sure that we can. How can you have respect for something, rather than somebody? He also makes a comparison with a picture of somebody, to which we might be attached, and compare it with a representation of a cross, to which we might be attached. But I don't think I can be attached to the cross, although I feel strongly that it's a powerful symbol and reminder of the person who died on it and who I worship. I think that part of my concern arises from part of the liturgy:

This is the wood of the cross, on which hung the saviour of the world.

All come, let us worship.

Now, maybe I'm being too critical, but it's not clear to me what the object of our worship is supposed to be. The obvious answer is that it's supposed to be the the subject of the preceding sentence: "the wood of the cross". I think that's a legitimate reading of the text, and if someone were to come to it with an unnuanced theology, then I think that might be what they thought was going on. And I don't believe that we should hold a cross as worthy of worship. Or any other object. Or anything other than God - the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, three in one and one in three.

The veneration of the cross is an old tradition - and a catholic one. There's nothing wrong with that, but I feel that the liturgy that's been put together within Common Worship goes too far towards what I believe are the errors of (certain types of) (mainly Roman) Catholic practice.

I know that I'm in danger of condemning practices which are very helpful for many people, and I'd stress that I enjoy ceremony and tradition and liturgy in many instances. But this feels like a step a little too far for me. It's made me think hard about other aspects of my worship - receiving a blessing before the Gospel reading (is it the book that's being blessed, or the reader and the reading?), kissing my stole before putting it on (is this to allow me to reflect on the responsibility I am taking on, or veneration of an object?) - but I think that's a good thing. In many ways, I'm a reformation protestant - or Reformation Protestant - but I need to understand how (and whether) that can be reconciled with more recent theological insights.

I see all of this as part of my growth and development as a minister: I appreciate comments and thoughts. And prayers, of course.

Labels: catholicism, liturgy, theology

Preaching against creationism and so-called "Intelligent Design"

Well, I've got people clamouring on Facebook to find out what I preached on. I they don't seem that interested in other issues, so I probably shouldn't talk about taking the girls swimming to Halstead pool, or how it was Miri who was a pain to get to sleep tonight, but it was Moo who ended up putting her to bed.

Well, I preached on the theory of evolution. I started by introducing Charles Darwin as a fervent abolitionist and also an agnostic, and then talked about how he wrote a book which many Christians have had problems with, but which has lots of mistakes in it. I then introduced the Bible, in particular the Book of Genesis, with which it is often compared. I then explained how although Darwin got quite a few things wrong, the theory that he came up with has stood the test of time, and has turned out to be very resilient. How could you expect him to get it all right when he didn't have all the benefits of modern genetics, or the evidence that people have been gathering to refine the theory over the 150 odd years since he published "Origin of the Species"? The theory of evolution is a strong, resilient theory which has been shown to be usable to make predictions, and which is almost universally accepted by the scientific community worldwide.

What about the Bible, and the account of creation in Genesis? First of all, I believe that it's fantastic poetry, but I don't read Hebrew at all, so I couldn't tell. Second, it's a description aimed at people who lived 3, maybe 4 thousand years ago. And third, it's not science, and neither was it ever meant to be. The idea of science as, well, a "thing", a "discipline", even an idea is completely alien to the Old Testament (well, the New Testament as well): this is not a scientific account, but an attempt to explain how God's love moved into our world through creation.

I then went on to explain that creationists, and those who espouse so-called "Intelligent Design", rather annoy me, because at least part of my background is as a scientist. The theory of evolution has passed the test of time and the scientific community: why are we worried by this, when the alleged "alternative" account was never meant to fulfill the same role at all? And more than that, the God who _I_ believe in is greater than the one they seem to believe in. The God I believe in can work through evolution, through the theories of Newton and Einstein, and isn't worried that we'll work out how the world works: creation, and His acting through it, is the out-working of his love, and this God is not so weak that He has to tweak evolution from time to time in order to make, for instance, the eye. I think that's poor theology, let alone poor science.

So, that's my sermon, give or take. I gave it twice - once at the 0800, and once at the 1000. Slightly different each time, as I wasn't using notes - and I got positive feedback both times. People _want_ to hear about these things, and as it's so rarely the liberal view which is expounded with any passion, hopefully I'm redressing the balance somewhat.

Labels: preaching, science, theology

Theology

I'm reading some de Lubac, a Catholic theologian from the the 20th century. I'm really enjoying doing some proper theological thinking again: academic theology, that is. I wouldn't in any way suggest that practical theology isn't proper, but I really enjoy the particular requirements posed by academic theology. I was suggested his book "Catholicism", which I'm reading alongside a commentary on his life and work by David Grumett, which seems interesting so far. So far, I like de Lubac's insistence on the importance of the body of the Church - its catholic nature - but am less happy about the assumption - explicit at some points, it seems, though I'm only part-way into the book - that it is the Roman Catholic church which makes up the true body of Christ, as schism from Rome puts one outside it. I need to read more, as I may be being a little harsh on the book, and I understand how much he dislikes what he sees as a Protestant preoccupation with personal salvation.

I'm reading this as part of a project looking into issues of authority and the Anglican church, and it's interesting to see how it relates. I'm not sure where I'm going with it yet, but will try to keep blogging on the issue.

I managed my second baptism today, and managed not to forget the child's name this time round. I really enjoy baptisms, and look forward to doing more. Moo managed to put a hole in one of her tyres today, which annoyed her, but it's one of those things. She's also trying to finish an essay, so this afternoon I took the girls to the Giggle Factory in Sudbury. Two very tired girls by bedtime...

Labels: baptism, theology

The Book of Job

As I've mentioned in previous posts, an atheist friend and I are having a fascinating conversation about faith, which I hope to blog in time. I'm not ready to do that yet, but she asked me a particular question in a side-thread, and I think it's interesting enough to post here, as well as being separate from the main thread. It's an interesting question to be answering, and any comments on how I did it are very welcome!

The question

OK - one of the only times god actually talks to a human? These events are few and far between..........and what does he say?

Actually, rewind a bit. The whole book resembles Trading Places, god and the devil in a nice gentlemens' club - "And where have you been?" says god, "Oh down on earth, doing stuff" says satan, or as the James version has it:
And the LORD said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

I am sure I am not the only one who reads the subtext "unlike you!".

Then Job gets given a hard time, for no reason?

Then at the end they finally have a chat. And god just goes on and on about what he has done. Not terribly inspiring?

What's your take on it?

I am genuinely interested.

The answer

Done some reading to remind myself: never did much on the Book of Job. Anyway, it's part of what's known as the Wisdom literature in the Bible, along with several other books, of which the best known are probably Proverbs and Ecclesiastes (best known for the song "Turn, turn, turn", which quotes it). There's wisdom literature known from other cultures of the period and area, but the Bible (oddly enough!) is the best known of the set.

The first point to note is that there's a particular type of writing used for Wisdom literature (or, to be more accurate, various types: various forms, to use the standard terminology). Think socratic dialogue, Greek drama, Elizabethan sonnets or experiment write-up: there are standard ways of putting these things together, and the interventions of the "3 friends" is one of those.

In fact, I'm quite chuffed with my choice of socratic dialogue as an example, because I don't think that many people think that the original Socratic dialogues actually record real conversations by Socrates. The same goes for the Wisdom literature: it was a way of putting information across to the next generation(s), through a recognisable story in a recognisable structure.

Now, I'm not saying that there aren't people whose experience of communication with God isn't that He/She speaks directly to them, though it's not mine.

So, I guess that part of the wisdom that's being imparted is that Satan is all around us, ready to trip us up, but that if we continue resolute and trust in God, we will be rewarded in time.

Part of the problem is that critical reading of the Bible, though not rare, is not what gets the press externally. It's the fundamentalists, who pretend that they read the Bible "as is" (you can't: you always bring preconceptions to all texts) who get the press, so that's who many atheists think they're up against (and who R. Dawkins, Esq. tends to engage with, to the exasperation of many of the rest of us).

I hope this doesn't sound like I've ducked or side-stepped the question. It's also worth pointing out that there are many books (and parts of books) in the Bible, about which there is great academic disagreement. For instance, it seems unlikely that the story of the woman caught in adultery, told in John's gospel (the "let whoever is without sin cast the first stone" story), was in the original text, but it seems to have been added very early on in the history of the text, and to be consonant with the values of the community using it, so it tends to be an accepted part of the Canon. Oh, and don't let anyone fool you into even thinking that we (Christians) all agree on what the Bible should look like in terms of which books are in it, let alone on translation. It's all sort of fun. Really: I love this stuff!

Labels: apologetics, bible, theology