Posting from the old English Catholic blog.
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There is a striking article in New Directions – An Anglo-Catholic future by John D. Alexander and Phoebe Pettingell. To this posting I have given the three keywords these authors used in their article to describe three possible approaches to living the Catholic way in the Church of England, or for that matter, other Churches of the Anglican Communion. The big question, as we all know is discerning whether the Church we belong to is not radically incompatible with what we believe. One does not join the Muslims to be a good Buddhist! It might at times seem to be as simple as that.
Is any kind of accommodation possible for the sake of belonging to the established Church and thus having access to most believers rather than going the way of “enthusiasm” and a disproportionate role of religion in our lives? We are surely not all and every one of us called to choose between three categories: going somewhere else, staying and putting up with everything, or digging in and witnessing to Christ’s love.
It is when we have entirely given up on the official establishment that we begin to look for “vehicles” in which we can continue as we were brought up. Thus we have the Anglican Use, the Ordinariate, Western Rite Orthodoxy, the TAC, the ACC, the ACA and every other combination of letters to designate an independent Continuing Anglican Church. There are many reasons to join them – but also to keep away from them all. We can also consider stripping our Christian life and aspirations back to “mere Christianity” and then substituting the “trappings” of the Church we are considering joining to what we had before. Thus an Anglican becomes a Roman Catholic – there is something different about the convert, but the outward observances are identical to those of cradle Catholics. We do need to look things squarely in the face.
Is some kind of neutral “mere Christianity” possible, by which someone can slough off his own experience to adopt that of others in other cultures and Churches? Thus we find English converts to Orthodoxy growing beards and adopting eastern baptismal names. Perhaps it is something that might be good for some, perhaps via a “desert” period of not belonging to any church at all.
The conversion of Anglo-Catholics to Rome seemed the best way in a paradigm of organic development as Newman formulated it. Indeed, this theory was the clincher for Newman, and I believed in it for a long time, but see too much evidence against it. I personally have tended to make this assumption, but I am increasingly of the opinion that the history of the Roman Catholic Church, as all other Churches, is one of a hermeneutic of rupture. Old things are replaced by new things and people get used to them. History is changed at a whim, and after twenty centuries, Christianity itself is increasingly difficult to discern under the layers and layers of ecclesiastical and cultural accretions. Both the Reformation and the Counter Reformation were ruptures, as is “conservatism” and “liberalism” (for want of better labels) in the present scene. I sometimes see Christianity as an hourglass, for its time is running out. But, perhaps the hourglass can once again be turned upside down and the process begun again…
In my experience of life, if we look for a Church that perfectly corresponds with the vision of another period of history, when Christianity seemed to be more real, we are likely to be chasing after an illusion. For every problem in the Anglican Church, we will find its equivalent in Roman Catholicism if we face reality and avoid being seduced by romantic idealism and illusions.
Is Catholicism itself an illusion? I sometimes have the impression, though it depends on how you define Catholicism. I suppose it is some kind of sacramentally expressed incarnational way of living and believing that appeals to more than the intellectual faculties to which biblical teaching is addressed. Perhaps as many Anglicans, faced with the ubiquitous cognitive dissonance, become Roman Catholics as abandon what some term as “orthodox” Christianity. Perhaps the “middle way” is accommodation – accepting the status quo.
Such an approach may fill us with bitterness and loathing, but we also know that a larger “mainstream” is of those who are not churchgoers or even Christians. Accommodation can go a very long way. In times past, accommodation might have meant conformity with the Prayer Book and avoiding ritualistic idiosyncrasies, an approach like Roman Catholic priests saying the black and doing the red, and nothing more. Going further, it is the Vicar of Bray syndrome that makes an absolute of the Establishment, and you adjust your belief to fit. That hardly seems very sincere to me. A priest working like that seems to be no more than a mercenary, a functionary – in it for the job, the rent-free house, the car and the perks.
In Victorian England, some Anglo-Catholics managed to find a position between getting out (usually going to the Roman Catholic Church) or accommodating with Liberalism or the Low Church. They lived in a kind of “dialectical tension”. Do not some Roman Catholic clergy also do so in an analogous position? There are many priests resisting the ideologies of their “accommodationist” bishops and doing the best they can – and that is clearly both sides of the Tiber, if you like that ghastly metaphor which I cannot stomach!
The way of witness is what I have seen in some French parishes where the priest stuck it out for forty or fifty years until he died, against the hostility of diocesan bishops, diocesan bureaucracy and so many other crosses. The priest’s lot is to suffer from the lack of care from his Bishop, or even from his faithful. Being a priest these days is about as gruelling as anything else. It was certainly the case for Keble and Pusey.
The way we live with disappointment and disillusionment will depend largely on the kind of spiritual life we have. We will certainly suffer less if we stay put than if we go chasing after illusions. Remember, other people would never put their money where their mouth is in terms of dispensing advice. Join the Ordinariate! Join the Western Rite Orthodox! Join anything – the mask only falls off when you have made the move and cannot go back. It is interesting to see that Keble had low expectations, because the world does not vindicate movements of the spirit. Likewise, Pusey’s “own deep sense of unworthiness, which welcomed personal humiliation, protected him from the sense of hurt and rejection that afflicted Newman”.
I find this article close to home, though I would express its ideas in a very different way. Some of us who read this blog are priests of an “official” Church and witness to Christ’s love through the ministry they have received. Others are scrabbling through the wreckage of our ships wondering whether we should go elsewhere or dig down deep and wait it out, knowing that the wait may be longer than our life expectancy. Would giving up be a witness to our faith? I doubt it, but that is not impossible if you understand your Christianity according to something like the ideas of Bonhöffer as I have discussed before. We are quick to judge those who say they are spiritual but not religious. Sometimes, spirituality is a mere euphemism for anything that is not material or utilitarian like going to work, checking the bank statement or bringing the children home from school. Sometimes, it is a real cri de coeur from those who are alienated from churches by the fault of bad clergy and hyopcritical laity! The Churches may be broken up and the pieces sucked back into the sea by the waves, but Christ will somehow remain. The notion of the ecclesia would have to be understood in a new way – or simply lived without being understood.
When all is said and done, most of us should have stayed in our Churches of origin and quietly witnessed as priests or lay folk, not by accommodation but by a constant game of cat-and-mouse, cut-and-thrust, Scarlet Pimpernel, call it as you will, but working to harmonise human authorities in the Church with notions of Truth and Tradition. The ability to do this is called the priestly vocation and that compromise that resembles sailing close to the wind – course and speed. Fall off the wind and you get more speed, but you will have to travel further by tacking to make the same distance upwind. Life is made of these paradoxes that just have to be lived with.
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Comment from C. David Burt:
I. A song for all seas, all ships.
Behold, the sea itself,
And on its limitless, heaving breast, the ships;
See, where their white sails, bellying in the wind, speckle the green and blue,
See, the steamers coming and going, steaming in or out of port,
See, dusky and undulating, the long pennants of smoke.
Behold, the sea itself,
And on its limitless, heaving breast, the ships.
To-day a rude brief recitative,
Of ships sailing the seas, each with its special flag or ship-signal,
Of unnamed heroes in the ships – of waves spreading and spreading far as the eye can reach,
Of dashing spray, and the winds piping and blowing,
And out of these a chant for the sailors of all nations,
Fitful like a surge.
Of sea-captains young and old, and the mates, and of all intrepid sailors,
Of the few, very choice, taciturn, whom fate can never surprise nor death dismay,
Picked sparingly, without noise by thee, old ocean, chosen by thee,
Thou sea that pickest and cullest the race in time, and unitest nations,
Suckled by thee, old husky nurse, embodying thee,
Indomitable, untamed as thee.
Flaunt out, O sea, your separate flags of nations!
Flaunt out visible as ever the various ship-signals!
But do you reserve especially for yourself and for the soul of man one flag above all the rest,
A spiritual woven signal for all nations, emblem of man elate above death,
Token of all brave captains and all intrepid sailors and mates.
And all that went down doing their duty,
Reminiscent of them, twined from all intrepid captains young and old,
A pennant universal, subtly waving all time, o’er all brave sailors,
All seas, all ships.
II. On the beach at night alone
On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future.
A vast similitude interlocks all,
All distances of place however wide,
All distances of time,
All souls, all living bodies though they be ever so different,
All nations, all identities that have existed or may exist,
All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future,
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spanned,
And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them
III. (Scherzo) The waves
After the sea-ship, after the whistling winds,
After the white-gray sails taut to their spars and ropes,
Below, a myriad, myriad waves hastening, lifting up their necks,
Tending in ceaseless flow toward the track of the ship,
Waves of the ocean bubbling and gurgling, blithely prying,
Waves, undulating waves, liquid, uneven, emulous waves,
Toward that whirling current, laughing and buoyant with curves,
Where the great vessel sailing and tacking displaced the surface,
Larger and smaller waves in the spread of the ocean yearnfully flowing,
The wake of the sea-ship after she passes, flashing and frolicsome under the sun,
A motley procession with many a fleck of foam and many fragments,
Following the stately and rapid ship, in the wake following.
IV. The explorers
O vast Rondure, swimming in space,
Covered all over with visible power and beauty,
Alternate light and day and the teemimg spiritual darkness,
Unspeakable high processions of sun and moon and countless stars above,
Below, the manifold grass and waters,
With inscrutable purpose, some hidden prophetic intention,
Now first it seems my thought begins to span thee.
Down from the gardens of Asia descending,
Adam and Eve appear, then their myriad progeny after them,
Wandering, yearning, with restless explorations,
questionings, baffled, formless, feverish, with never-happy hearts
that sad incessant refrain, – Wherefore unsatisfied soul?
Whither O mocking life??
Ah who shall soothe these feverish children?
Who justify these restless explorations?
Who speak the secret of impassive earth?
Yet soul be sure the first intent remains, and shall be carried out,
Perhaps even now the time has arrived.
After the seas are all crossed,
After the great captains and engineers have accomplished their work,
After the noble inventors,
Finally shall come the poet worthy that name,
The true son of God shall come singing his songs.
O we can wait no longer,
We too take ship O Soul,
Joyous we too launch out on trackless seas,
Fearless for unknown shores on waves of ecstasy to sail,
Amid the wafting winds (thou pressing me to thee, I thee to me, O Soul).
Caroling free, singing our song of God,
Chanting our chant of pleasant exploration.
O Soul thou pleasest me, I thee,
Sailing these seas or on the hills, or waking in the night,
Thoughts, silent thoughts, of Time and Space and Death, like waters flowing,
Bear me indeed as through the regions infinite,
Whose air I breathe, whose ripples hear, lave me all over,
Bathe me, O God, in thee, mounting to thee,
I and my soul to range in range of thee.
O thou transcendent,
Nameless, the fibre and the breath,
Light of the light, shedding forth universes, thou centre of them.
Swiftly I shrivel at the thought of God,
At Nature and its wonders, Time and Space and Death,
But that I, turning, call to thee O Soul, thou actual me,
And lo, thou gently masterest the orbs,
Thou matest Time, smilest content at Death,
And fillest, swellest full the vastnesses of Space.
Greater than stars or suns,
Bounding O Soul thou journeyest forth;
Away O Soul! hoist instantly the anchor!
Cut the hawsers – haul out – shake out every sail!
Sail forth – steer for the deep waters only.
Reckless O Soul, exploring, I with thee, and thou with me,
For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared to go,
And we will risk the ship, ourselves and all.
O my brave Soul!
O farther, farther sail!
O daring joy, but safe! are they not all the seas of God?
O farther, farther, farther sail!
Walt Whitman

Thank you for this post. It presents the dilemma that is facing many of us today and has been facing many others of us for years. The only comment I have is that the choices are not always ours to make. Circumstances often push us over the edge. I have had a very un-stellar ecclesiastical career, and I often wonder if things might have been different if I had stayed in the Episcopal Church. I might still be the Rector of a parish that loved and appreciated me, but the truth is that it was not my choice to leave. I was forced out primarily because the Treasurer was embezzling from the parish funds and had to get rid of me before I discovered it. Unsupported by the bishop at the time because I was at odds with him over the ordination of women, I continued my ministry in the outfall of the St. Louis Movement for some years until responding to the Pope’s invitation to become Catholic in the Pastoral Provision. Even then what I thought would be my exceptional career path was disrupted by the yet to be revealed clergy sex scandal in Boston; the clergy of the Archdiocese did not want a married priest in their company. I wonder why?
While we may think that our ecclesiastical career path is like sailing to windward, taking a tack here and another one there, It seems that in the cultural storm that we are in it is more like just trying to stay afloat being driven by the wind. For me there is no safer harbor than the one I am in now. When I converted to the Catholic Church, my very good friend, and seminary classmate, Carleton Jones, OP, formerly SSJE said to me, “David, when you become a Catholic it is like joining the human race.” Well, to carry the sailing analogy further, The boat I am now sailing has been stripped of much of its rigging. There are no longer any smart looking clerical collars on my bureau. My old surplice which I still wear in choir needs mending. Only a few die-hard Anglo-Catholics who have not yet converted to Rome still call me Father. I anticipated none of this when I gave myself into our Lord’s service at ordination.
I really like this blog, and I am a great fan of Archbishop Hepworth, by the way. He is a sailor too and is building a replica of the Spray. Anyone who is doing that must have read Joshua Slocum’s Sailing Alone Around the World. I see something of Slocum’s character in Archbishop Hepworth. It certainly takes guts to do what he has done.
So instead of writing sermons now-a-days, I may spend my time sanding and varnishing, getting the boat ready for the sailing season, which here is all too short. We often do what we are compelled to do by circumstances, not what we set out to do with the thought that we are God’s gift to the Church.
C. David Burt
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As Mr Burt is a navigator like myself, as is Archbishop Hepworth (though my boat must be the smallest at only ten feet and a four-foot beam), I replied thus:
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Thank you, David, for this beautiful comment. I went to see a little Youtube documentary on Joshua Slocum and found it very moving. It made me think of that lovely poem by Walt Whitman set to music in Vaughan William’s Sea Symphony. Yes, indeed, Archbishop Hepworth has guts. He might have had his ship broken and be out of money, and he would still build something to get home with.