I’m Spiritual but not Religious

I’m Spiritual but not Religious. This is one of the most hackneyed self-descriptions we hear from many of our contemporaries. Most of us who are attached to churches as clergy or laity would say that it is impossible to be spiritual without any attachment to a spiritual tradition like Christianity or one of the other religions, or such a claim is at least hypocritical self-deceit. This may well be so for people who are worldly and secular but shrink from identifying with atheism and materialism.

It may do some people good to take a break from their involvement in religious practices, especially when they become distorted or if the person finds his emotional health being affected. An immediate disclaimer – I have no qualifications as a therapist and do not presume to offer a “solution” for every individual person seeking his or her way, often with great difficulty.

There is so much conflict in and between the churches that some are profoundly alienated and can fall prey to those who do claim to have a cut-and-dried solution. Cult gurus prey on such “seekers” and the process of alienation becomes that much more profound.

One thing I notice with some with whom I correspond is that they have suffered from ecclesial shenanigans to the point of falling victim to the old spiritual malaises known by the Desert Fathers, such as ἀκηδία. This example, in the minds of the monks of old, calls for asceticism and self-unpleasantness. It can also call for a change of life, travel and a new quest for being capable of a sense of wonder and freshness. At the same time, most of us have commitments in life and we just have to knuckle down to our lot in life. It is within those limits that we have to look for what is good and wonderful.

Some people just think too much about the wrong things, and those who are monks are brought back to the most fundamental things – observing the Rule, getting back into place and rediscovering the relationship with God. Most of us don’t have the framework of a monastery, and are left to our own devices. The choice most of us have is between materialism and a life that means something in a universal consciousness that transcends our desire for money, sex and power. Those of us who have a spiritual discipline through the religion we are attached to are fortunate, if the religious and spiritual aspects are in harmony.

Our universal consciousness – our participation in the essence of God by means we will never understand – is our first step. Our values are a part of this consciousness, and this will explain the fact that the morality of just about about every person who cares for others is constant and identical. It is wrong to kill, steal and tell lies, and it is right to help others in distress and make them happy. There are values other than morality like truth, beauty, love, compassion, empathy. Without this consciousness, in whatever way it manifests itself to each of us, we lose our desire to continue living.

Religious tradition is something that has become very difficult to relate to. Many of us have been born and brought up in a religious tradition or a Church. We went to school, sung in the choir, learnt to serve the liturgy and bring up the cruets at the right time. We read the Bible or parts of it, and read books by spiritual writers. Many of us have had none of that, born into godless families, unknown by people at the local church, synagogue or whatever, totally ignorant of the notion of being part of a religious community. Then it gets complicated. We also have formerly religious people who became alienated, and not always through their own fault.

Perhaps we church people can be smug and tell them to forget about spirituality and eat crow until they’re ready to submit and become tithe-paying church people! That was exactly the leaven of the Pharisees that Jesus condemned with such vigour in the Gospels. We lay unbearable burdens on their shoulders, and their death is our life. We become demons and cannibals! How can we wonder why people search elsewhere?

Finding balance between religious commitment and personal spirituality is difficult. It can be done by those who have suffered, reflected and experienced. We do what our Churches say we should do, and then we have our secret gardens where anything is possible and no one else can follow us. One example of the secret garden of some of us is γνώσις, secret knowledge that cannot form the structure of an exoteric religion, any more than anarchism can be a principle of politics and society. We learn about Gnosis through the Alexandrian Fathers and modern men like Carl Gustav Jung, the psychologist who sought further than Freud, the spirit of man beyond the functions of the organic brain and nervous system. But, in our Churches, the emphasis is on the social dimension and our concern for other people and their good.

Another thing that puts people off religions, all religions, is that we kill and demolish each other. The beliefs of others, their conception of truth, threatens our own. We believe we are right and they are wrong and have to be corrected, by force if necessary. We compensate for our own doubts by becoming arrogant in our attempt to possess truth. Are any of us right? The question haunts us all. We can take our part in the killing, give it all up – and find we do the same thing in another philosophy of life or political ideology, or we try to find a new basis and foundation.

Jesus taught us to seek the Kingdom that is within, and then build the community on that basis, on the basis of the genius that only individual persons can possess. We grow our crops in the secret garden, and then offer the produce to the world with which a community can be based. Churches and communities come and go, but something remains, even among our friends and family members who stay away from churches because they have been hurt.

In the absolute, it is better for the world to be populated by spiritual seekers who are alienated from religious traditions than in a world of religious zealots who have not one shred of spirituality. There should be no dilemma, and I believe one should be both religious and spiritual, but we live in a very badly wounded world in which the Redemption by Christ seems harder and harder to discern.

Many religious people live through alienation to find God and their inner selves. That is why some of us are attracted to the mountains, the desert and the sea. We don’t find churches at sea, but the emptiness we need to scour out our souls and see what really matters. Some people need psychological help to make these distinctions. A few priests and monks have these abilities too, but being a good judge of character is not given to everyone. Psychological help is usually very expensive and as often ineffective because of being based on the wrong things. We need to know about our secret gardens and spend time in them. For me, there is nothing better than having a tiller in one hand, the other hand on the mainsheet and surfing in a full reach or running before the wind on a moderate sea swell – and with everything well with the boat and its rigging, we can be still and know that God is God. Those who don’t sail will have their thing that enables them to do their “gardening”. It might actually be gardening in a real garden, pulling out the nettles and putting in the broad beans in a nice neat row.

I don’t think we need be afraid that bad religion will discredit spiritual life, as the latter is so much a part of our being. There are good people in churches as there are bad. We all have a foot in each camp through sin and shortcoming. We have clergy who fall short monstrously, yet there are others who do their duty with heroism and courage. Certainly, invariably, someone is a good member of one’s Church through tending the garden and partaking of its beauty.

That’s where the difference lies. I’m much less concerned about people who say they are spiritual but not religious than about church people who manifestly have no spirituality, let alone the qualities of love, empathy, beauty and self-sacrifice.

I invite you to read Israel’s No: Jews and Jesus in an Unredeemed World and offer comments. I have for years been dogged by the idea of an unredeemed world and unredeemed Christians, and find this article to be profound, yet Christian tradition teaches us that the Mystery of Christ changed everything. I haven’t yet had the time to read this essay fully, but it promises to be a good reflection to provoke us. Is the world unredeemed? Was there some limit to the Redemption? Is the Redemption (Atonement) begun but not complete?

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The Contradictions of Comprehensiveness

The question bothers me since reading the aggressive points of view of some Continuing Anglican divines who propose a pogrom against Anglo-Catholics. In a way, we can wonder if they are merely reacting in a self-defence reflex against aggression from Anglo-Catholicism who would see the back of the Reformation and its “variations” as Bossuet would have put it. The question is both highly complex and very simple. If one claims to be both Protestant and Catholic, or “reformed Catholic”, then one is founding oneself on a basic premise. Perhaps one may be Protestant but concede some “high church” trappings to please those who are unsatisfied with plainness and austerity. Is that what Catholicism is about, or does it have some more substantial doctrinal and spiritual foundation? Surely, if it is just “dressing up”, then one should become a “real Catholic” by swimming the Tiber or biting the bullet and accepting someone else’s austerity. It is surely God’s will that all pleasure is sin and all art and beauty to be reproved unless it is secular!

I have always had the idea that comprehensiveness would be easier from a Catholic basis (conciliar ecclesiology, not Papal) rather than the Protestant basis that destroys the Platonic metaphysics forming the basis of the possibility of redeemed man to participate by grace in the life of God. In the Reformed type of thinking, God reveals himself to man only through the written Word of the Bible, nothing else.

If Anglicanism can be a continuation of the pre-Reformation and pre-Tridentine Catholic Church, a great deal of comprehensiveness is possible. It suffices to visit the church of a Trappist (reformed Cistercians) community and find that there are no images other than a statue of Our Lady. The rest of the church is whitewashed, plain, bereft of beauty or decoration. It would be easier and saner to have the possibility of low church liturgy on the basis of Catholic theology than high church liturgy on the basis of Reformed doctrine.

As with any movement, the Reformation began by reacting against abuses and superstitious practices. Hitler and Mussolini began by promising good things for the people such as a reliable train service, affordable cars, good fast roads and modern living conditions. The nasty things only came later, like Calvin burning someone at the stake with green wood to prolong the suffering! But, it has to be said that the early stages were needed.

In many things, there was a question of emphasis and things that were needed, like the liturgy and the Bible in the language of the people. Basing all Anglicanism on the Reformation – supposing the Anglican Catholic Church were taken over by Evangelical “classical” Anglicans, there would have to be a purge of Anglo-Catholics. If everything were to be founded on the Reformers, there would be no point in high-church ceremonies, which would become at best irrelevant and impious at worst. You get rid of the statues and icons, put the communion table in the middle of the choir with its ends in the same direction as the east and west ends of the church. Vestments become a matter of effeminate men wanting to “play dressing up”. Just go back to England of before the Tractarians, the triple-decker pulpits and box pews. It takes little imagination – just see the engravings of Hogarth depicting fire-breathing preachers and swooning ladies!

I see little evidence that many of today’s Continuing Anglicans would go so far in their outward observances. Evangelicals are more likely to emulate the “mega church” style with modern language services.

The problem would seem to be in one side wanting to impose the 39 Articles as a doctrinal standard for all, albeit interpreted à la Bicknell – and the other side doing away with the Articles and imposing the Affirmation of Saint Louis containing a commitment to seven Sacraments (instead of two) and the seven Ecumenical Councils including Nicea II (against iconoclasm).

I am personally all for having the Affirmation as a basis (with the ancient traditional doctrines it contains), and joined the Anglican Catholic Church knowing that I would not have to assent to Reformation formularies. At the same time, there are different ways of observing the liturgical life from the “spiky” style of the Tridentine liturgy in English to the simpler English “Sarum” style and the simpler “monastic” tastes. I tend to be somewhere between the “extremes” whilst refraining from criticising those who are more “Tridentine” than I am. In these matters, there can be diversity according to the customs of the people in their parishes and pastoral necessity.

If conciliar Catholicism were better known, conciliar as in the reforming Council of Constance placing the Episcopate over the Pope acting alone, this would be far more healthy than being hidebound to Reformation formularies. With a conciliar Catholic approach, we can have the Bible and the liturgy in the vernacular, keep popular religion and the taste for miracles and wonders in check, keep the clergy from becoming corrupt, get the laity to learn their catechism and develop an interest for more advanced doctrinal, historical, spiritual and liturgical study, and so forth. The problem with Protestant Augustinianism is that is is too narrow, like asking a great French chef to cook a fabulous meal with only one saucepan, a pound of potatoes and water. I prefer people like the Methodists with their high church theology and low church services to having to be narrow in one’s theological vision and then “playing at religion” by doing high services without any underlying justification. Did not some of the Reformers lament abominations of popish masses?

Another objection to Protestantism is that it was a reaction against a very specific situation in history. Since the sixteenth century and up to our own times, there have been changes. In Roman Catholicism, the issues involving corruption and superstition were addressed by the Council of Trent and the Counter Reformation. There was the dispute between Jesuits and Jansenists which cleared many of the difficulties surrounding Augustinian theology. Then, from the nineteenth century, there is a whole movement in theology, ecclesiology, church history and historical criticism leading to the Ressourcement, the appeal to the Fathers of the Church. With exposure to that kind of theology, who wants to return to sixteenth-century pseudo-scholastic polemics which were as narrow and asinine from the Roman point of view as from the Reformers? One who has seen sunlight will not return to live in the cave and see only shadows and imaginations. What we would like to continue is colour, beauty, diversity and joy.

Is the Affirmation of Saint Louis a perfect document? Certainly not, and it too will prove to be tied to its time and will be found to be too narrow. It has already been modified to reflect the definitive nature of the separation of Continuing Anglicanism from the Canterbury Communion. It is a good guide which helped to define Continuing Anglican identity in a time of crisis. The Articles also emerged from a situation of crisis. Defining an exact number of Sacraments at seven is a fruit of the Roman Catholic Council of Trent. Are we going to be Roman Catholics without being members of the Roman Catholic Church? That is another contradiction that is a danger among so-called Anglican Papalists. The Affirmation is exactly that, an affirmation of identity, and not a definitive definition of dogma.

If we “trash” the Reformation, do we not deny any continuation of Catholicism in Anglicanism? Probably we do, as traditionalist Roman Catholics see very little in the way of orthodox Catholicism in the pontificate of Paul VI and the 1970’s. Is continuation absolutely vital as opposed to restoration? There was a liturgical movement in Roman Catholicism because the meaning of the liturgy had become obscure by the end of the eighteenth century. Dom Guéranger began the movement of bringing the people to the liturgy and the liturgy to the people. The Oxford Movement began a parallel movement of restoration in the Church of England, to breathe life back into dead bones.

To what extent was there any continuation of Catholicism through the Reformation era? If there was none, then Rome could be justified in saying that our Orders are absolutely null and utterly void. So could Orthodoxy when looking at late eighteenth-century French Catholicism and Talleyrand, whom Napoleon had dubbed a turd in a silk stocking. Continuity is relative in all churches, but there is always something. Rome can trace the apostolic lineage of most of its bishops to Scipione Rebiba (1504-1577). There is no reliable documentation beyond him. There is probability of continuation further back, but no documentary proof. Every Church has its skeletons in the cupboard and things the apologists overlook. We Anglicans as no exception.

I have always liked Soloviev’s approach to ecumenism. Roman Catholicism, Orthodoxy and Protestantism are all too one-sided and only a part of the whole. Roman Catholicism represents the human organisation of the Church for the purpose of the Mission. Orthodoxy represents the mystical and contemplative approach, and Protestantism represents the freedom of man in his response to God’s Word and invitation to salvation and sanctification (justification). If all contributed to something higher, then there is hope for the restoration of Catholicism. I fear that few in the Continuum are up to such a sublime vision, one that would transfigure the serious deficiencies of Protestantism, Roman Catholicism and Orthodoxy.

In the current dialectics between “classical” Anglicans and Anglo-Catholics, what is of greatest concern is that the former can only affirm itself at the expense of the latter. Let the Anglo-Catholics go to the Ordinariate, and leave us (Evangelicals) alone! It can also be argued that Anglo-Catholics would like the “classical” Anglicans to leave and become non-conformists or whatever, so that there can be a unified Anglo-Catholic Church. Can the two co-exist? With current attitudes and theological visions, probably not. I see very little possibility for cohabitation in a single institutional Church. I notice how the term “Classical Anglicanism” is increasingly becoming a euphemism for the Protestant position with the intention of expelling Anglo-Catholics or making them so uncomfortable that they will leave.

There is also the possibility of uniting all Anglicans on the basis of some kind of “mere Christianity”, the term being coined by a book written by C.S. Lewis. The notion of the “classical Anglicans” is tied up with Anglican apologetics, because if this category is uncatholic, then the apologetic basis of Anglo-Catholicism is gone – unless the quality of being a Church is something that can be restored as I have suggested.

I lived through the entire time of the TAC’s approach to Rome from the bishops’ meeting in Portsmouth to Anglicanorum coetibus two years later, probably the result of other Anglican groups and events. One of the greatest problems was the definition of Anglican Patrimony or identity. Is Anglicanism a kind of English “Old Catholicism” or a half-way house moderate Protestantism conserving some Catholic characteristics like bishops and chapters of canons? Was it all in the liturgy or the tradition of pastorally-minded clergy as opposed to being a “country squire parson”? Was it all in the scholarship? I think we are ourselves struggling with such a definition without knocking at Rome’s door to say we want to be Roman Catholics with something akin to uniate status like the Byzantine rite folk.

I am unable to finish this article with anything like a definitive conclusion. I think we don’t stand much of a chance, any more than any other form of Christianity that is humanist in its inspiration and respects man’s intrinsic dignity. I see the totalitarian caricature, whether it is in the successors of Calvin, Topcliffe, Torquemada or Ivan the Terrible, winning out. Critically-minded people will be less and less drawn to Christianity, a religion to be written off as a failure.

There is something to be said for the idea that we would have been better off to have remained in the Egyptian fleshpots of our Churches of origin, and made our pilgrimages as individuals. We chose instead to found or join dissident churches and launch out into the deep, for which we needed a common identity rather than individual identities as persons with our talents and sins. In guise of a provisional conclusion, I can only suggest we make the best of our little churches and communities, and make our pilgrimages. Someone above us will want to try cat herding. Let them try, and perhaps succeed.

The more time that goes past, the less I am worried by it all. Let the Americans play baseball, the English play football, the Protestants in their books and the Catholics in theirs. I see nothing wrong with separate church institutions according to the different ways of reading the Gospel and the Tradition. Perhaps, we will discover a common basis – or perhaps we won’t.

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On our Return

We only really had two days outside travelling and doing practical things at the camp site. The wind must have reached about force 7, perhaps gusting force 8, when we arrived on Thursday afternoon.

The next day, the wind had dropped to about force 4 in the morning and so I ventured out to sea in my little dinghy. I shortened the mainsail and tried to shorten the jib by wrapping around the forestay. On my Friday outing, it was very short and I went out twice, the second time having removed my jib entirely. The wind whipped up, very unstable and in gusts from the south-west and I had to close-haul back to the beach.

gatteville-area

The following day, Saturday, the wind seemed to have calmed. Even with a slightly calmer wind, I took the boat out with reefed mainsail and no jib. I went along the coast in a broad reach, and it felt like being in a speedboat. The wind was, as ever, quite unstable and very gusty. I had planned to go to St Vaast la Hougue, but it would have been imprudent. The wind started to whip up again, and I was concerned. I turned back and realised that my drift was taking me too far out to sea. By the time I reached Barfleur, I headed up and began to tack towards the shore, and this reduced the chop of the north-east swell colliding with the tidal current and the small wind waves. I was frozen stiff by the time I beached the boat, and took her back to the caravan, and then had a long hot shower and a vigorous rub-down with a towel.

On the Saturday afternoon as life returned to my stiff limbs, Sophie and I went to visit Valognes, a town that made its fortune in the middle ages through its excellent tradition of making salted butter. There were some lovely big eighteenth-century houses and a fine church, nearly destroyed in 1944 but with the medieval choir restored and the rest redone in modern (1950’s) style. We then went to visit the Cap de la Hague and the Nez de Jobourg with their magnificent views of the sea and the Channel Islands from the highest cliffs in France. Facing the strong south-west wind, the same wind I challenged in my boat (but on the lee side of the Cotentin), the sea showed its mysterious mood with the slight haze over the horizon and the heavy swell. It was magnificent!

This was certainly the way to spend our Ascension weekend, in the midst of nature and wild beauty. Other things fade into insignificance. God is found a different way, in the howling of the wind and the ageless rocks…

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A Break in the Cotentin

My wife and I are off tomorrow morning (after an early Mass of the Ascension) for an extended weekend until Sunday night. I’m taking the boat but the weather forecast looks dicey. Friday looks OK for the moment (16 to 18 knots) and I might have to shorten sail, especially the jib which is on the generous side for this boat. The sea will be to lee of the land, so there will be little swell, but I’ll have to get back to the beach close-hauled.

Here’s where it is:

gatteville-map

This area is full is maritime and World War II history. Sainte-Mère Eglise was capital for D-Day on 6th June 1944, when so many men perished under the German machine guns. Cherbourg was the first I saw of France in August 1966 as a small boy, coming off a ship from Southampton and disappointed that France was not like the African Savannah with lions and elephants. It is a fine coastline full of fishing ports and oyster growing. There are also many Vauban and Napoleonic fortifications against – guess who – always the same enemy!!!

Here is a nice summer view of the camp site and coastline:

gatteville The famous lighthouse of Gatteville (top of this photo) marks a very dangerous part of the sea, where tidal currents can be stronger than 9 to 10 knots. In bad weather, the combination of wind and waves creates a true ship-eating maelstrom. I will stay south of our beach and near the shore. With a ten-foot dinghy and no engine, to venture near the Raz de Barfleur would be madness! That is unless I want a very quick trip to Cherbourg on the outgoing tide, or an even faster journey to Davie Jones’ Locker!

I hope to have a couple of nice anecdotes and photos when we get back home.

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One that Pisseth against a Wall

One thing I love about the King James Bible is the quaint language that can seem at times raw for modern ears.

I Kings xvi.11:

And it came to pass, when he began to reign, as soon as he sat on his throne, that he slew all the house of Baasha: he left him not one that pisseth against a wall, neither of his kinsfolks, nor of his friends.

There are dozens of passages of psalms that cause sniggering in the choir stalls of many an English parish church, but I won’t go into those double meanings now. Some hymns have references to being firm to the end.

Now! Now! That’s enough superfluity of naughtiness! (cf. James i.21)

Why find amusement in this quaint expression that simply characterises human beings of the male sex? I was reading something (no need to link to the source) about Fr Yves Congar, the French Dominican theologian at Vatican II who was far too friendly with Anglicans for the taste of the Holy Office of his time.

The anecdote goes:

…[O]ne night after dinner, Congar and some friends were walking past Ottaviani’s Palazzo di Sant’ Ufficio. He proceeded to excuse himself for a minute, walked over to the building, peed on the wall and returned to the group with a satisfied smile on his face. A good story, but one I was reluctant to report, until now.

This old gentleman can’t have been the first to do such a thing!

There was once an organist of Dursley Parish Church in Gloucestershire, a veterinary surgeon, who took his choir to sing at a college chapel in Oxford. One bathroom was being repaired and was out of order, and some boys were going to the wrong places. He announced to his choirboys:

I am well acquainted with horse shit, pig shit and cow shit, but I cannot stand the human variety. So there are facilities at the other side of the quadrangle where you can all go and do it together.

Now, this is Anglican Patrimony, perhaps something Fr Congar understood well.

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Religious Fanaticism

opus-dei-monkI have already written on this subject, especially when commenting on the Grand Inquisitor theme.

My task here is simply to offer a few summary ideas to help us all to understand how the “mechanism” works.

Fanaticism is not the result of faith but a lack of faith. It comes from fear that one’s commitment does not go far enough. Believing in God, praying and living a moral life are, for that person, not enough. There is the element of proving something to himself and others, showing his faith through extreme commitment.

All religious people feel they have to do something. Most go to church and try to avoid doing evil, being good decent folk. A next stage is serving the poor, getting involved with humanitarian works, giving money, becoming a priest, a monk or a nun. These are fully committed Christians. Then we have people who commit atrocities “in God’s name” like seventeenth-century Christians – both Protestant and Catholic – or today’s Muslims in the Taliban or Al Qaeda. This is fanaticism.

Fanaticism need not always involve murder. It can take many forms, superimposed on the predatory instincts of ruthless people seeking to establish their fields of power and dominion. The Grand Inquisitor (see above) is a perfect example of this kind of person and his motivations. Trolling on the Internet is also an aspect of this kind of personality when motivated by extreme religious “commitment”.

The borderline seems to be between the person who practices his faith and religion, but respects other people in their beliefs – tolerance and recognition of good and grace in the other. Proselytism is the beginning of predatory fanaticism when it involves trying to trash and destroy the other person’s basis, to create a need for the fanatic’s way. This is the usual approach implicit in commercial advertising, and is a common characteristic of unredeemed humanity.

If God has any interest in what human beings do, it is preferable that God should be seen as love (as said by St John and others in the Old and New Testaments) than as some kind of Lord High Führer who feeds on suffering, blood and death – the Demiurge or “bad creator god” of the Gnostics. Most of us are sure that a loving God would prefer us to be good decent folk than going to church and being evil in our lives!

Does that make us have to be liberals? That depends what liberalism means. If it means tolerating other people and recognising good and truth in them, then we should be liberal. If it is some kind of intolerant ideology to be imposed on others, then we should not be. It is as simple as that.

We should be aware that fanatics, as sociopaths / psychopaths in the world around us, are only a tiny minority. Most of our churches, mainstream and marginal, are made up of good, positive, decent and tolerant people. That goes for the Roman Catholic Church to the little group of Evangelicals in their improvised place of worship. Most of us want to serve God and be good to other people, helping those less fortunate than ourselves and being just. This is one thing we should remember. When there are problems, it isn’t the fault of the Church or most of us faithful and clergy – but of the tiny minority who have no empathy or care for other people, or any recognition of truth and goodness outside themselves.

That is fanaticism. When we recognise it for what it is, then we have nothing to fear.

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“Embryo Parson” Prepares to Write a New Article

In reference to my earlier article Facing Criticism, an update by someone calling himself Embryo Parson promises that he will “address his comments when I have a big enough block of time to do so in depth“.

I remember from the 1980’s a sketch on a comedy TV show about two English gentlemen in the very early nineteenth century. One accuses the other of insulting his wife and slaps him across the face with a pair of gloves, indicating that the accuser and husband of the insulted wife was challenging the other gentleman to a duel. Whereupon, the challenged party learns to shoot with a duelling pistol. Finally, on the morning appointed for the duel, the challenger produces a pair of swords to the dismay of the one who had so diligently learned to shoot a pistol.

Embryo Parson describes himself in The Life and Times of The Embryo Parson. He seems to be an interesting and sympathetic fellow who has been through a lot of personal hardship and lack of pastoral sense on the part of clergy in various Churches. His conversion was a radical one, and this can bring the kind of radical commitment Christ asks of his disciples, and it can also bring fanaticism. As Umberto Eco wrote in his famous book The Name of the Rose:

Fear prophets, Adso, and those prepared to die for the truth, for as a rule they make many others die with them, often before them, at times instead of them.

I haven’t had time to peruse the whole site, but I discovered that he is a Calvin apologist. I need to see his expressed opinions through that optic. That seems to be the bee in his bonnet when “modern Anglo-Catholics” say that Calvin has no place in Anglicanism. According to this Embryo Parson, Calvin is intrinsic to Anglicanism (for example The Rev. Roger Salter on the True Nature of Anglicanism).

Calvinism is intrinsic to the fabric of Anglicanism and any vendetta against Calvin himself cannot erase this historical and theological fact. Anglicanism is drenched with Augustinianism.

I am a cradle Anglican and have seen a few churches in my time. I have also lived in France and Switzerland, the former country with a Reformed Church minority. Last summer I visited a Reformed church in La Rochelle quite similar to the one in this old engraving.

calvinist_church

Here is another one of a French Reformed church. It must be very “high-church” because there is a cross on the wall!

calvinist_church2

The Reformed Christians of France and much of French-speaking Switerland (outside Fribourg and Valais) were brave people, and resisted the persecution by Louis XIV and the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. There was a bloodbath. Decidedly, the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were not a time of tolerance and dialogue!

This being said, I do know the difference between the Church of England that baptised me and the Eglise Réformée.

I haven’t studied Calvin very much, still less read the Institution de la religion chrétienne, his flagship work comparable in the Reformed world to the Summa Theologicae of Thomas Aquinas. Without wishing to insult anyone, I have always had the impression that Calvin was the sixteenth-century Christian equivalent of the late Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran. Calvin, like many historical ideologues, needs a good deal of study. Some sources (for example) whose impartiality I cannot guarantee suggest that Calvin was something of a little dictator who gladly put people to torture and death in anticipation of their inevitable damnation as reprobate souls predestined to the fiery pit. The sixteenth century was a nasty time, and Christians – Catholic and Protestant – were behaving not very differently from the Taliban and Al Qaeda in our own times. If a human being was predestined for damnation, then there was no duty of any respect of that person. You can kill them, take their property, rape their wives – and no sin is committed!

Puritans in England and America had an inquisition against women accused of witchcraft that rivalled the Roman Catholic Church’s inquisition in Spain and other parts of the world. The Salem Witch Trials in New England are an example of persecution by Puritans. See Salem Witchcraft: The Events and Causes of the Salem Witch Trials. Can all this be blamed on Calvin? The article makes no such insinuation, but seventeenth-century Puritanism was just as fanatical and murderous as fanatical Catholicism in the same period. What was sure about Calvin is that he set Geneva up as a theocracy and he made the rules!

I’m not going to waste my time reading Calvin’s theology any more than Suarez, Bellarmine, Molina and others. Catholicism in the seventeenth century had Jansenism that also had very pessimistic tendencies derived from Saint Augustine. Lots of damned and very few saved. Do we see where the logic goes? Yes, the Untermensch of the guys in jackboots in the 1940’s, lining up their “unworthy of life” victims for the gas chambers. I am often criticised for reasoning according to the principle of the reductio ad absurdam or taking things to their ultimate consequences. It isn’t always a valid way of thinking, but it can be. I hardly have the taste for wading through Calvin’s theology, since the man had nothing to do with Christianity or the Gospel other than nominally and hypocritically.

Putting aside the accusations of murder, persecution and oppression, because everybody with few saintly exceptions was doing it in those days, there is another consideration. The properly theological considerations are based on late medieval scholasticism based on philosophical systems that forbade the participation of any being in another or any notion of the Universal. God was being put in prison!

I refuse to argue according to the categories of this kind of theological method. No theology is perfect, since it is faith seeking understanding (and not always finding it). Still, it can be said that some approaches to theology are more open to the mystical and spiritual notion of God, to God’s generosity and even to a carefully understood notion of universal salvation or deification (Θέωσις) by grace, or even the orthodox version of Gnosticism of the Alexandrian School. I have written on neo-patristics and the Ressourcement school of twentieth-century Europe.

Our embryo parson friend and I seem to live on different planets, and we seem unlikely to have any common ground on which to base a dialogue. I find this tendency with a few others who run blogs and call themselves “classical Anglicans”. I don’t think they really represent most Continuing Anglican jurisdictions seeking to bring churches together in unity and Christian love. If they did, then we are necessarily faced with the exclusion of Catholic or even “high-church” elements.

If he is thinking of challenging me to a long and drawn-out theological debate, as with Roman Catholic and Orthodox convert apologists, he will be disappointed. But I will maintain that Continuing Anglicanism is home to many Christian folk who are all on their pilgrimages. I am a fairly thick-skinned person, having been blogging for years and facing criticism and occasional insults – but I do take exception to being trashed, as seemed to be implicit when we “modern Anglo-Catholics” are seen as “playing at religion”. It’s always the same dagger – we’re the “true church” and you are the insincere and perhaps deceitful impostors, traps for the unwary and spiritual frauds.

I will not argue with a man who thinks this way. If he wants to initiate a theological argument with a long article, I fear he may be wasting his time. Actually, it might be more apposite to see if he picks his nose in public, forgets to zip up his fly or if he has dirty fingernails! Someone familiar with his writings has told me – I don’t know his real identity, but indications are that he has moved around quite a bit and earned for himself a reputation for being loudly dissatisfied and combative. We’ll see, or perhaps we won’t. Either way…

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A Comment by Young Fogey

Following my earlier article Facing Criticism, our friend in Pennsylvania showed an amazing level of understanding as he reacted to the matters I expressed.

Fr C on not fitting into the churchmanships around you, even if they’re conservative. I was too Anglican to be a good Roman Catholic and too influenced by the Tridentine forms I sought out to be a good Anglican. I sought out a third way in the light of my experience in France in parishes like that of Fr Montgomery-Wright. Despite our doctrinal difference — finding a place in the Catholic Church vs. finding one in Continuing Anglicanism — we’ve always had a lot in common. His lasting point: the molds familiar to trads — Counter-Reformation religious order, militant laity — are neither the fullness of pre-conciliar Catholicism (the ’50s moderate/liberal French priests he knew, who didn’t go Novus but weren’t reactionary either: ‘they are not what we were’) nor for everyone; they’re not perfect. We’re both just old enough to have grown up naturally learning high-church forms, if not necessarily high-church theology, from the Anglicans before they became more obviously liberal, sort of parallelling Catholics who grew up right before the council. There are parallels and lessons for trads from the old Gallicanism, etc., a traditional church that largely runs itself and is locally based. But I’d say our religious culture isn’t necessarily Anglican. (Leaving the Pope on principle and accepting the English ‘Reformation’ even filtered through high churchmanship are not options.) But there’s a third way for me too. Peter Robinson, a Continuing cleric like Fr C, has described my answer when I couldn’t. Mass-and-office is pre-conciliar’s version of high-and-dry in a good way. Super-high and baroque liturgically like Gricigliano and Bourne Street, but Christ- and Eucharist-centered (why the Mass is so emphasized), very theological; devotionally moderate. The pre-/non-conciliar church is a big tent; different versions of the ‘mix’ I describe are of course welcome. (I don’t mind seeing the charismatics at the new Mass when I’m there on holy days or flea-market Sundays.)

I still remember Fr Jacques Pecha in his parish at Bouloire where he had been from 1955 until his death in 2002. He commented on the “reactionary” priests by saying “they’re not what we used to be” (ie. priests ordained long before Vatican II in provincial dioceses).

The lost paradise was no paradise – but it seems to be just about gone. Gricigliano comes fairly close to having recreated something of baroque Catholicism, but the reactionary fault lines are there too. I have been away from it for nearly twenty years.

The biggest problem is the relationship between local religion and culture. Culture no longer has anything to do with religion, and the churches are “uprooted” and living “in exile”. Cultural relevance is something that either favours the Church or secular values – and no one has been able to solve that problem.

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Rigging your Boats

Quite a few are still looking for my articles about rigging sailing dinghies. It’s the new season, and some of us have already taken to the sea seven or eight times this year. It has been a late spring, and my heart goes out to those who are still having snow. The spring here is still cool, but the weather is pleasant except in the more inland parts of Europe.

To those of you who are sailors, I wish you luck (and skill) in rigging your boats and sailing them. If you have questions that I could help you with, please let me know via the combox. Most of it is either right or wrong for each type of boat, but there are ways of getting around problems or jury-rigging when things really do go wrong.

Remember to observe safety at sea, and don’t take risks! It’s not worth it. Always wear your life jacket and take a mobile phone or a portable VHF with you – or both. Take an anchor especially if the wind is coming from the coast and blowing out to sea. It will save your life if your mast comes down! Check the weather and tides beforehand and let your nearest and dearest know you’re going sailing, fishing or whatever. Remember the sea is always stronger than we are!

Good luck…

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Facing Criticism

This is something I should address as unofficially as possible, therefore in my personal blog. I stumbled across a blog with which I was not previously familiar, and which published The Conciliar Anglican (Fr. Jonathan) on The Rise of Parties.

It really is the “old problem”, which we are not going to solve here. So, I will just offer a couple of reflections in the knowledge that I will be shot down. I have no personal experience of American Anglicanism, either in TEC or the Continuum. There are big differences between our “English” way and the “classical Anglican” ethos in America.

My experience of Anglicanism was for the most part outside the “spikey” parishes of London and the South Coast. I developed something of an interest in Christianity from my time at school. It was public school (English “public” school that is, not American) religion – broad, liberal, doctrineless and passe partout. We in the choir had blue cassocks and surplices. The musical repertoire was everything that was most ordinary in Anglicanism, and sometimes we got some “smells and bells” at York Minister in the days of Dean Alan Richardson who had followed in the footsteps of Dean Milner-White. What is Anglicanism to a cradle Anglican? Probably something like Roman Catholicism to a cradle Roman Catholic. It’s something you go along with until you have enough awareness to seek an identity or reject it altogether as irrelevant to the rest of our existence.

I was not conscious of belonging to any kind of “reform” movement. I was just in the Church of England and developed an interest in church music. As I found “bells and smells” at York Minster, I came across Evangelical parishes in our city and some boys at my school who wanted to spice up chapel services with their guitars and catchy songs. By 1973, our chaplain introduced Series III and the first modern-language services that needed special compositions and not the classical repertoire we had been doing. This was my first notion that different “tendencies” wanted to do different things with the Church.

As time went on, I read something about Methodism, since we occasionally had ecumenical services with them. Their churches were so different, usually with a big central pulpit and the organ behind, with a little wooden table in front and the communion rail with little holes for the individual communion glasses. We Anglicans had a central altar (eastward facing or facing the people), the pulpit off to one side and we were given communion from a common chalice. This was so of the most Evangelical parishes.

One impression we English Anglican boys got was that it was a matter of taste and what felt best with. We chose our church because the music was good, because there was a fine organ, because we liked the Vicar, the services, whatever. No one I knew liked to be pressed into any one mould of conformity. With very little doctrinal basis, as with Roman Catholic youngsters, most of us would just “grow out” of religion.

Did we have an idea about Anglicanism having to be distinctive? I preferred Anglican churches to the non-conformist style, and I didn’t find myself attracted to the kind of piety I found in Roman Catholic churches where I occasionally played the organ, surrounding Saturday afternoon confessions and evening Rosary. As for doctrinal formularies, I hardly knew what the Thirty-Nine Articles were – and we still had the Prayer Book for Evensong. Actually in the choir, we didn’t use prayer books, but pointed psalters, a hymn book (Ancient and Modern Revised) and printed sheet music for the versicles and responses, the Magnificat and Nunc dimittis and the Anthem. We had the services as we were used to them, but without self-consciousness.

In my Anglican life in the late 1970’s, I wandered into some very “spikey” churches in London on my many “organ crawls”. I was reminded of the York Minster choir and our school choir processing up opposite sides of the Minster, led by acolytes in dalmatics swinging thuribles for the Epiphany 1973? We sang the lovely old carol O’er the hill and o’er the dale. The “spikey” churches reminded me of all that. It was in 1979 when I discovered an Anglican parish using the Novus Ordo Roman rite. That was at St Alban’s Holborn, up at the high altar and using sung settings with the Prayer Book texts, or even Latin as when using compositions by Mozart, Haydn, Byrd or others. I drew the line when I heard an East-End vicar talking about putting in an altar facing the people to conform to Roman Catholic norms!

I preferred the Prayer Book texts from the point of view of musical settings and an eastward-facing Eucharist rite. On the other hand, I witnessed a north-end 1662 service in one of London’s City churches and found it bizarre. I only went into the place on account of the fine eighteenth-century organ in a church that was not bombed during the Blitz in 1940. I began to hear about comprehensiveness, but that seemed to go with ecumenism, and I remember deeply offending a clergyman because I confused the two terms. The poor man understood that I sinned through ignorance, and I was just a lad of my time.

In time, I assimilated notions about the Tractarians and the Oxford Movement, and even about the London slum priests going to prison in the 1860’s for Ritualism. I didn’t have the impression of men “playing at religion” even if there were some very “camp” homosexual men around. That was and is London and places on the South Coast like Brighton.

I don’t think I ever heard of Hooker until I had become a Roman Catholic and was nostalgic about Anglicanism, and therefore read about it. Newman was supposed to be the great hero of converts, and it seemed strange he took so long to work everything out! Coming to the point, some of the identitaire articles floating about have no bearing on the Anglicanism I knew badly but of which I was a part.

My Roman Catholic experience marked me deeply, perhaps to the extent that I was too Anglican to be a good Roman Catholic and too influenced by the Tridentine forms I sought out to be a good Anglican. I sought out a third way in the light of my experience in France in parishes like that of Fr Montgomery-Wright. That way would be the pre-Reformation, medieval and conciliar tradition of Catholicism. I was struck by the quip by Oscar Wilde in his famous letter to his boyfriend about the meaninglessness of reformations. There is something so tedious about being reformed – it’s all about having to put on one’s Sunday best rather than enjoying life! I was always interested in seeing Catholicism as it “naturally occurred” in countries like Italy, a phenomenon of increasingly rarity.

So, comprehensiveness based on “reformed Catholicism” was never much of a priority for me.

This article to which I make reference assimilates me to “modern” Anglo-Catholicism, perhaps something like St Alban’s Holborn, St Mary’s Cable Street or Bourne Street. Lots of lace and big six? I have nothing against, since I was a seminarian at Gricigliano and unashamed baroque Catholicism seemed a good contrast with the more dour and humourless traditionalists. Since then I dropped the lace and took the plunge with the Sarum liturgy, whether others are interested or not – it makes no difference here in France.

Blog articles and comments of modern Anglo-Catholic clerics such as Chadwick and Haverland…

I am indeed flattered to be compared with my Metropolitan Archbishop who is an excellent theologian and an erudite man.

Was comprehensiveness really an ideal with the Tractarians? Perhaps it was, but this is the first I hear of such a notion. I would not dare to speak for Archbishop Haverland, but I have not jettisoned anything that was never a part of my religious baggage. Am I playing church? Am I wanting the church I want and forgetting the Church which God wanted. So, my Archbishop, I and others are not only “modern” Anglo-Catholics but also sectarians! I have a feeling or surreality, as if someone were calling me a pink elephant and I were looking over my shoulder to see whether the description fitted me or someone standing behind me.

Strangely, I am not really interested in a “church I want”, but more in finding the Church at all. Where’s the comprehensiveness in indicting our intentions and interior motives? What is not sectarian is seeking to base comprehensiveness on a narrow and intellectually unsatisfying ideology? It is a bit like trying to examine current social issues in the light of Marx and Lenin rather than the research of those with the benefit of more relevant data?

What makes them so sure that God wants something based on Reformation-era ideas and reactions against the Roman Catholicism of the time? Has God ever expressed any preference for any “type” of Church? The binary thinking (which is not merely for pedagogical purposes) is quite astounding. Only if you’re “modern Anglo-Catholic” are you seeking a “pure” Church consisting on bits and pieces chosen from the “cafeteria”. Now where have I heard that one before? Oh! Of course! From the conservative Roman Catholic apologists.

So, we “modern Anglo-Catholics” are bound to die out eventually. Isn’t that rather obvious? We’re all going to die one day! But, the idea of Anglicanism as “conciliar Catholicism” rather than Protestantism with the hard edges filed off seems still to be going more or less well. People have been going to Rome and Orthodoxy since the days of the Oxford Movement – and they were hardly “modern Anglo-Catholics”. Some Evangelicals have also gone to Rome and Orthodoxy, as they still do. It is not because of “modern Anglo-Catholicism”, but because a particular person or group believes that this is the right thing to do.

It is manifestly silly to blame “modern Anglo-Catholicism” for people being “bled off”. Perhaps “they” should blame Tractarianism and not only “modern Anglo-Catholicism”. Well, before Tractarianism, Anglican pottage was latitudinarian and an affair of country squires and the Establishment gentlemen sporting their facial hair in their Clubs.

So we “modern Anglo-Catholics” have “no real understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ” and are merely “camp” aesthetes! It’s a point of view… It’s time to question this term “modern Anglo-Catholicism”. If this were an accurate way to describe us, then why are we using old liturgical forms rather than the Novus Ordo? Perhaps “modern” means anything since the sixteenth, seventeenth or eighteenth centuries. It’s all rather slippery.

It comes to another consideration which is no less than a “true church” claim and the correlative intolerance. It strikes me that such intolerance and branding of ones “adversaries” will do more to discredit the Church and alienate seekers than either the importing of “foreign” traditions or reviving “obsolete” customs.

I wish all the best to all groups of Christians in their endeavours to bring about unity between themselves. I sincerely hope for their success in making their message more credible to tired, cynical and alienated people of our time. Perhaps only in America can any kind of Christianity make any claim to worldly success. That being said, I am hardly naïve about the fact that the greatest oppositions between Continuing Anglican factions are in America.

For my part, I am not jealous about the label Anglican. When I was a boy, it meant being in the Church of England. I quoted Bishop Mercer’s piece about extra-mural Anglicans a while ago. We all have difficulties in defining our identity or our particularity, and we squirm about using the title Catholic for fear of offending the Roman Catholics. Orthodox is even further away from our horizon as a word. Do we define ourselves by the institutional body we belong to or by our belief and praxis? It is a tendency among many independent Catholics to use special adjectives so that they don’t fall foul of accusations according to which they are misrepresenting themselves as other kinds of Catholics. This is a big problem.

What do we do? Go away and let the strongest stake their claims to the exclusion of all others? If that the Church God wants?

It strikes me that the goal should not be one of gathering all the little Anglican communities and making a big and politically powerful institutional body, but rather tolerance and recognising Christ in other people and the groups they belong to. Anyway, I could go on about this forever, and those who are convinced need no convincing, and those who are not convinced will never become so. I leave off this little article with the famous quote:

For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don’t believe, no proof is possible.

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