Some years ago I came across a piece on the Church of England
by Clifford Longley in the London Times entitled "A tolerant
church, worthy of a generous obituary." There is much
with which I agree in this article. I would even have to agree
with Mr. Longley that the future of Anglicanism is far from
certain. However, I disagree completely with his diagnosis
of what ails Anglicanism at the present time.
Longley
sees the explanation for the decline of the Anglican way in
the Anglican tradition of comprehensiveness and tolerance,
which he, as a Roman Catholic, interprets as a sign of intellectual
weakness and limited faith.
I see
the present threat to Anglicanism, on the contrary in the
attack on Anglican comprehensiveness and in the breakdown
of Anglican tolerance. As a Canadian, it seems to me that
Anglicanism and Canada have something in common: they are
both mixed societies. Canada is made up, historically and
constitutionally, of two founding nations: the English and
the French. In Anglicanism also there are, historically, two
constituent groups. In the sixteenth century England shared
in the revolutionary religious revival known as the Protestant
Reformation. However, the English Reformation was significantly
different from the Reformation on the continent.
The Church
of England was given the task, particularly under Elizabeth
I, of serving the interests of national unity by bringing
together as many Christians as possible within the unity of
a single state church. Thus the Church of England came to
include both the followers of continental Protestantism, especially
in its Calvinist form, and those who remained attached to
the "old religion," as Roman Catholicism was then
called.
Elizabeth
aimed at a compromise between Lutheran political theory, with
its emphasis on the prerogatives of the temporal ruler, and
the episcopal organization of Roman Catholicism. Calvinism
was already reflected in the two Prayer Books of Edward VI,
and it also coloured the Thirty-Nine Articles of Elizabeth’s
archbishop, Matthew Parker.
Although
these Articles do not have confessional status, they are important
as an illustration of the approach of the English Church.
The framers of the articles avoided narrow definition, so
that a variety of interpretations was made possible. In the
nineteenth century John Henry Newman could argue that the
Articles were capable of being interpreted in a Catholic sense.
Both Canada
and Anglicanism are therefore the result of a compromise between
two founding groups. Both societies attempt to accomodate,
within a single structure, differing interests which are frequently
at odds. In both cases, comprehensiveness and tolerance are
the necessary conditions for the continuation of this compromise
which, whatever its problems, brings great benefits to both
sides.
In both
Canada and Anglicanism other interests and groups have been
added to the mix over the course of time, so that the present
situation in both cases is extremely complex. Canada has been
called a "mosaic," and this could be said of Anglicanism
as well. However, despite this complexity, both Canada and
Anglicanism are marked, historically and constitutionally,
by the forced marriage of two quite different groups of constituents.
In both
cases the weakness of the arrangement is that neither side
is completely satisfied with the compromise. There is the
danger that one side or the other may attempt to change the
status quo to its own advantage. The long-term consequences
of such a coup, if successful, would be the dissolution of
the merger, with fateful results for everyone concerned.
The only
way for such a merger to succeed is if both constituent groups
give the imperfect unity which they possess in common a priority
over their separate special interests. This is where history
comes in. For whatever may divide Anglophones and Francophones
in Canada, or Protestants and Catholics within Anglicanism,
in both cases there is a common history. Anglophones and Francophones
will feel differently about the Battle of the Plains of Abraham,
and Evangelicals and Anglo-Catholics will feel differently
about the English Reformation. But as long as both groups
acknowledge a common history, they will share in a common
identity.
The danger
within a complex society, whether political or religious,
is that one or the other of the constituent groups will dissociate
itself from this common history, in order to appeal to some
other historical period with which it feels a greater ideological
bond.
Within
Christianity, change is frequently justified by an appeal
to an earlier, purer, more authentic phase in Christian history.
The Protestant reformers wanted to leap backwards in history,
over the corrupt mediaeval church, as they perceived it, in
order to recover the original simplicity of the gospel. The
problem is that such a return to one’s origins is impossible.
History moves in only one direction: forwards. What came out
of the Protestant Reformation was not the reappearance of
the apostolic church but a new religious entity: Protestant
Christianity, in a variety of forms.
Within
Anglicanism there has often been a nostalgia for the church
of the second through the sixth centuries, the so-called "Church
of the Fathers." For those who yearn to return to this
idealized past, the four and a half centuries of Anglican
history may be an embarrassment which they might want to suppress.
But if the memory of our common Anglican history were ever
to disappear, the result would be not the recovery of the
ancient church but a new religious entity, with no Anglican
roots, even though it might still retain the Anglican name.
Today,
with the tragic prevalence of Alzheimer’s disease, we
are well aware of what happens when people lose their memory.
They are no longer the same persons, even though their physical
bodies may look the same. The corporate amnesia of a religious
community would have the same disturbing effect.
There
are some within the Anglican Church who would not grieve over
the demise of the Anglican way predicted by Longley. They
think that Anglicanism’s destiny is to be dissolved,
in order to make way for the coming Great Church. In the present
ecumenical climate, such expectations are surely unwarranted,
and the erosion of Anglicanism’s special identity at
this particular time in history would be an unmitigated tragedy.
It is
perfectly true that Christian identity is more important,
theologically, than confessional identity. What makes a person
a Christian is more important than what makes a person an
Anglican, a Roman Catholic, or a Presbyterian. However, it
is also true that the Christian church, as such, does not
exist. Christianity takes on reality only in the particular
Christian churches which do exist. One can only be a Christian
by being a Roman Catholic, a Presbyterian, a Greek Orthodox,
an Anglican, or a member of some other denomination. Therefore,
in the existential order, confessional identity is a prior
necessity for Christian identity.
History
and tradition are closely connected. Tradition, I would say,
has to do with the appropriation of one’s history. Anglicanism,
with its insistence that Scripture contains all things necessary
for salvation, has never considered tradition to be a separate
source of revelation. Nevetheless, over a period of four and
a half centuries Anglican churches have acquired a characteristic
way of operating, something that has been called the "Anglican
ethos." One doesn’t hear this expression very often
these days, perhaps because anything specifically Anglican
is being devalued in the interest of ecumenical assimilation.
The universal is judged to be more important than the particular,
and yet, as I have just observed, the universal can only exist
in the particular.
The largest
and most universal Christian denomination is named after the
city of Rome, and Roman Catholics all over the world have
a special regard and affection for the see of Rome. By the
same token, for members of Anglican churches, whether they
speak Korean or Swahili, the Church of England and its history
would seem to have a special significance, even in an age
of multiculturalism.
At the
same time, I must admit that in our present culture, the significance
of history, any history, cannot be taken for granted. Henry
Ford is supposed to have said, "History is bunk,"
and this attitude is fairly typical of our technological society.
After all, one need not know the history of the automobile
in order to be able to manufacture an automobile.
In cultural
institutions, however, the situation is quite different. The
Swiss psychologist C.G. Jung has said, "Without tradition,
there can be no civilization," and without an attachment
to our history, religious culture is impossible. And yet,
in our society, where "instant culture" is the predominant
phenomenon, it is tempting for those who are dissatisfied
with the religious status quo to try to create an "instant
church." The relatively loose canonical structure of
Anglicanism makes it particularly vulnerable to radical chance.
It is
inconceivable that the Roman Catholic Church, for example,
should abolish the papacy. Yet in the Anglican Church of Canada
there is already talk of "Anglicanism after the Prayer
Book," even though the Book of Common Prayer, since its
first appearance in 1549, has been the principal expression
of Anglican identity and spirituality.
Anglican
adoption of the Protestant principle of the sole sufficiency
of Scripture makes it relatively easy to jettison Anglican
tradition, in order to adopt the traditions and practices
of earlier periods in the Christian church.
Now it
is quite possible that there are Christian practices which
have gone out of use which deserve to be revived and which
would enrich our Anglican experience. Anglicanism has always
been open to this. But for Anglicans, tradition has meant
first and foremost living tradition, that is, the beliefs
and practices which we have received from our parents and
which we in turn wish to pass on to our children. Paul writes
to the Corinthians, "I have delivered to you as of first
importance what I also received’ (1 Cor 15:3). It is
this personal understanding of tradition which has primary
religious significance, rather than the unearthing of the
remote past.
Religious
sensibility is dependent, in large measure, on associations
built up over a liftime, associations which are hallowed by
those whom we have come to love and respect, and from whom
we have received our faith. Indeed, the very word "religion"
has been derived from the Latin word ligare, "to tie"
or "to bind." Radical change severs the connections
on which religion is based and particularly in our present
culture, where religion is already on the periphery, such
change can have a devastating effect. There are many life-long
Anglicans who no longer recognize in the church as it is today
the faith which they received. Some of them have drawn the
consequences and left the church, since they believe the church
has already left them.
To return,
then, to where I began: if the generous obituary offered us
by Clifford Longley should have to be written, it would not
be because Anglicanism had died of natural causes, but because
the Anglican Church had committed corporate suicide.
I believe we need to revive our corporate memory and to strengthen
our corporate identity. It is simply not true that in religious
matters the new must drive out the old, by some sort of Darwinian
necessity. Self-conscious "relevance" is soon out
of date and obsolete, whereas the classic expressions of religious
faith are for all times. An appreciation of what we already
possess will enable us to evaluate critically what is being
proposed to take its place.
