This is the second part of a paper sent to me by Fr. Michael Gray on behalf of Fr. Michael Silver, who is priest in charge of St. Alban and St. Henry, Letchworth, a provisional parish of the TTAC in England. He has a web site.
The first part was published here last December 31st.
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Not Anglicans but Angels?
There were once two pending possibilities that seemed remote: London getting the 2012 Olympic Games and the Pope making provision for the corporate reception of Anglicans. Ah well, applied-prophecy was not an option in my degree, no donkey-detection for us. Both prospects have struck alarm in some, whilst generating euphoria in others. Thus the Pope's invitation was issued 20th October, 2009 whilst on the 8th February, 2010 the Archbishop of York was reported as saying that any such converts would not be "proper Roman Catholics." This is excellent news because those Anglicans to whom this applies have no intention of becoming (whatever might be meant by) "proper Roman Catholics." Traditional Anglicans are duty bound to seek the visible unity of Christ's Church and the offer on the table is from Pope Benedict. One might have dared to hope that even an Anglican archbishop would have known the difference between a "Roman Catholic" and a separated, ethnic communion (and one cannot get much more ethnic than "Church of England") reconciled to the Holy See. The Pope's press-release has reopened that delicate topic of Anglican identity and purpose. The underlying irony is that it is we "continuers," the upholders of Anglicanism, who were first to approach the Pope on this matter.
So, who are we? In Britain, around 15 years ago, we attempted a prophetic, even angelic mission. We severed communion with the Church of England in order – as it were – to 're-launch' faithful Anglicanism. Such re-constituted Anglicanism existed for a number of years throughout the Commonwealth and America, it was known genetically as 'Continuing Anglicanism,' although journalists favoured "breakaway Anglicans." Although begun in America, and well established there, their difficulty was a proliferation of jurisdictions -what was known genetically as the "alphabet-soup." Within this soup the Traditional Anglican Communion formed the largest segment, but many of the others were wholly creditable and responsible. The problem faced by all these bodies was not so much rivalry as understanding. It was not then (nor now) clear as to what this re-booted Anglicanism was actually being faithful. Ours was not merely an exercise in conservation, a spin-off of the heritage industry. We left, precisely, in order to continue to affirm and live (with as clear a conscience as possible) what we had always held, both about the Christian faith in general and Anglican legitimacy in particular – although the latter is continually controverted point within the Christian world.
That question about the initial legitimacy of Anglicanism (and therefore also about its continuation) has been disputed by the Roman and Eastern Churches alike. I think, however, that one point should be clarified. We re-formed, not because we felt 'rejected,' 'hurt', or 'betrayed'; should we not rejoice in bearing dejection in union with our Blessed Lord? We left, surely, because, if the Church of England really had been within Christ's Body all along, God was greatly dishonoured by (humanly speaking) irreparable acts of abuse and rebellion? St. Francis had been called to rebuild God's Church, could not even Anglicans receive a similar call? Indeed, far from inventing anything, we were but replicating what observant Anglicans had done (with or without use of the Prayer Book) during the Puritan usurpation in the mid-C.17. Use of the Prayer Book was actually forbidden at that time, but Anglicanism continued, either through formulating other rites (Jeremy Taylor's solution) or by risking prosecution. Bishop Juxon, for instance, having been made redundant, divided his leisure-time between hunting and leading forms of Anglican worship, in this instance in the rather remote Chastleton House, Oxfordshire.
From my own understanding (but not that of most of my coreligionists), all orthodox Anglicans were duty bound to undertake this strategic retreat from – so to speak – 'Lambeth' Anglicanism in order to remain within the One Church. There were, surely, only two ways of ensuring this: either to join existing Apostolic churches or to re-form (logically even excommunicating the bishops of the usurped order), yet remaining faithful Anglicans ourselves. Personally, I was most opposed to the first option – individual submissions to existing Apostolic communions; how would the wrongness of Anglicanism grant to another church exclusive rights? For in abandoning an Anglican outlook, one has to accept that the claims of the adopted church surpass not only Anglicanism but all other Apostolic Communions. If the claims of another communion had been so compelling, why had not people made their submissions in the "green tree" rather than the dry? 15 years on, my view on individual submissions (becoming "proper" x or y) has not changed substantially. Moreover, individual submissions must, by the nature of the case, be a matter of private judgement – which, practically, is often unavoidable, yet best minimised. How could a disaster today extend retrospectively to poison that Anglican ground where we had walked – as we once believed -with the risen Lord? Individual submissions imply something to which most of us would not subscribe, namely that there was nothing material that was worth maintaining in our former, longstanding allegiance.
Continuing Anglicans, however, changed … to stay the same. Well, not quite the same, we kept the faith but lost the furniture. More to the point, we were now undertaking an act of reparation to uphold God's honour and glory. To remain within the institution that merely retains a familiar name – whilst saying "not in my name" – still appears to subscribe to 're-designed religion', simply because our actions speak louder than words. We may say that we do not hold with this or that, but if we have not shaken the dust off our feet, the abiding impression is that we are moaning not moving, it cannot matter that much.
Ever-decreasing Circles
We have already rehearsed nearly all of these points so many, too many times as it is; if people could not, or would not, digest them earlier, they are unlikely to do so now. The point that always seems to get lost, however, is that we do not hold the Catholic faith because elements of it can be found in Anglicanism, but that Anglicanism's only purpose is to maintain and to conform to the Catholic Faith. Forasmuch as Anglicanism deviates from Catholic faith and order, so much the worse for Anglicanism. Where our arguments become circular is that it is precisely as Anglicans that we determine if and how Anglicanism has proved faithful to, or deviated, from Catholic faith and order. Traditional Anglicans defended the Church of England (retrospectively) as it had been in the time of Elizabeth I, but castigated it in the time of Elizabeth II. The arguments against Anglicanism brought forward by Roman Catholics or the Orthodox have not usually convinced us. If, for instance, both Roman Catholics and Byzantine Orthodox blamed the Church of England for departing from the true faith for failing to accept the 7th Oecumencial Council, most Anglicans would not concede that this was of the first importance. Indeed the Coptic, Armenian and Syrian Orthodox churches do not accept it, are they totally invalid? Nevertheless, we might appear to be playing off one church's circumstances against another's. We have been cherry-picking the evidence and improvising the argument. Where is the logical principle for Anglican method, rather than a convention of meeting matters arising on an ad hoc basis?
We have never had recognition from the other ancient churches, although, by 1932, the Old Catholic family of churches (those who separated from the Roman Communion in C.18, and more especially in the C.19, mostly in Holland, Germany and Poland) had come to accept the legitimacy of the Scottish Episcopal Church and, in 1933, also that of the Church of England. Additionally the Romanian Orthodox Church made a statement favourable to the validity of Anglican ordinations in the 1920s. Other than these two important monuments, Anglicanism has been disregarded. It is not that everyone else is anti-Anglican, it is just that we are not 'on the scale,' except, perhaps, as a tolerable den of scholarship (before 1970, at any rate). Does this lack of recognition matter, so long as we are recognised by Almighty God? Surely this is the only qualification for being within the true Church?
Visible and Invisible
The problem there is that such a position comes uncomfortably close to the stereotypical Protestant position of an invisible church, whose members are only known to God. The ancient church, however, no more than our own Anglican formularies, has any such definition of the Church. Article XIX of the 39 Articles – although censorious of (unspecified) Roman errors is, nevertheless, unambiguous about the visible nature of the Church:
"The visible Church of Christ is a congregation of faithful men, in the which the pure Word of God is preached, and the Sacraments be duly ministered according to Christ's ordinance in all those things that of necessity are requisite to the same."
So we are committed, on all sides, to believe in a Church that is visible, knowable, and accessible and it is precisely on account of this belief that questions of recognition and being in visible communion with true churches become far more acute. Not being in communion with anyone else does not actually make a church invalid, but it does compromise that church's confession of the visibility of Christ's Body on earth – all the more so as we (unlike the Donatists of old) do actually acknowledge the validity of the Eastern and Latin Communions. We may speculate that the Eastern churches tend to be stubborn and the Romans tend to be legalistic, but most Anglicans still reckon these communities to be within the Church. From Reformation times, a bastard tradition arose that the Pope was anti-Christ, indeed even the young Newman had vestiges of this view (no doubt reinforced by conversations at Oriel with the ex-Roman Catholic, Blanco White) until Froude ridiculed such fantasies.
In the 1552 English Prayer Book the Litany had the clause: "from the Bishop of Rome and all his detestable enormities, good Lord, deliver us," but Elizabeth I had this sentence removed. So, presumably, ever since then, the English Church has dismissed any identification of the Pope with anti-Christ. Further, in 1859, Parliament (not the Church) removed the service for Gunpowder Treason. [Prayers I have sometimes recited, partly through curiosity, partly to render genuine thanks that our church was thus far protected against those who would have destroyed it - namely both Puritans and Papists.] It would, however, seem an impossibility to remove these prayers whilst endorsing a collective opinion that the Pope was Antichrist. By 1982, Queen Elizabeth II had even entertained Pope John Paul II at Buckingham Palace, whilst Archbishop Runcie had prayed beside him at the (empty) tomb of Thomas Becket. That was a sight that moved most Anglo-Catholics (and others) greatly, yet the writing was already on the wall. We were, by then, in full communion with so-called Anglican churches that had irreparably departed from Apostolic order, whilst Runcie himself had certainly concelebrated with Anglican lay-women (supposedly in holy orders) in Canada, and elsewhere. Thus there was a sham aspect to this photo-opportunity. Nevertheless, we could say that the actions of both monarch and archbishop a) further distanced both Church and State from identifying the Bishop of Rome with anti-Christ, b) implied a willingness to repair past hostilities and c) gave visible embodiment to the high-level discussions known as ARCIC, albeit discussions which were doomed to fail because of the already explicit Anglican trajectory.
Personally speaking, I am not convinced that the (so-called) agreed statements (collectively known as ARCIC) are a particularly auspicious precedent or, in themselves, especially impressive theological expositions. They were undertaken within a period of (what I see as) theological drift and relativism in both the Latin and Anglican Communions. Nevertheless, Churchill had a point when he said "jaw, jaw is better than war, war." At least these discussions demonstrated good will and, arguably, treated the Anglican tradition and its claims more seriously than hitherto. Avery great deal more could be said about the fluctuating relations between Rome and Anglicanism, but my point here is about the visible Church generally. Holding that thought about the visibility of Apostolic transmission… we need to recall that clergy from both the Roman and Eastern churches, wishing to enter Anglicanism as priests, have never been re-ordained according to our Ordinal. We do not, therefore, dispute that these communions are indeed within that One Church which we confess in the Eucharistic Creed.
If, then, we are constrained to recognise the genuineness of other churches we had better have tolerable reasons for saying that we are also genuine, despite their indifference towards us, and, furthermore, that we should never take steps that would allay their concerns about our validity and intentions. Much Anglo-Catholic theology – one way or another – is taken up with this difficulty. Our rough and ready self-justification ran something like: 'we were wrenched away from the Orthodox churches in the C.ll by Latin intolerance, and that same hostility turned upon C.16 reforming efforts in general, and England's developments in particular. Nevertheless, we retained all the fundamentals of the Catholic Faith, in the face of a growing hostility towards the old faith that was growing unchecked in Northern Europe. Now we find ourselves comparatively isolated, through no deliberate fault of our own.'
This self-justification is not without elements of truth, but it is rather simplistic, and glosses over how our forebears took the law into their own hands, despite the fact that no new practice or doctrine had been introduced from Rome's side. Rather, all the innovation was on our side (although the English Reformers appeared to argue that theirs was simply a delayed reaction to innovations which had accrued over time). I think that it is now generally agreed that no side in the Reformation disputes comes out conspicuously creditably. There may have been astonishing advances in arts and sciences, even on the textual side of theological study, but the C.16 was far from godly. Nevertheless, Anglicans today can gain nothing by representing themselves as mere victims of circumstances. We have had sufficient time to confront these inherited anomalies, but have generally preferred to argue amongst ourselves.
Thus Anglicans comforted themselves by casting the blame upon history. Certainly the problem with the way that history unfolds is how quickly people become content with the abnormality of a situation. When communion was broken between the Byzantines and Latins, few if any could have suspected that this separation would last for over a 1,000 years. Even Luther's connexion, half a millennium later still, did not seem to envisage an irreconcilable situation. It has been argued that one reason for Protestantism's weak view of the nature of the Church was that no one contemplated a new church order as a distinct subject. When Rome would come to accept the merit of the Reformers' position, all questions of order would be 'set in order' by reverting to earlier undisputed practice. It fell, of course, to Jean Calvin to fill this void respecting a positive position on a reformed order and its rationale.
The problem for Anglo-Catholics, meanwhile, (of which terminology more later) was that they could not find a sure foot-hold. Some Protestants confessed One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church as simply one invisible church, no problem. Other Anglicans identified certain marks of the Church as guaranteeing a body's visibility, continuity and therefore its oneness. Most Anglicans would venture further still by insisting that even where some of these marks were absent (in the Continental Lutheran and Calvinist bodies) this was excusable because a) they were national, as opposed to sectarian, (and therefore preserved jurisdiction – an aspect of Apostolic Succession) and b) that historical circumstances (once again) made it practically impossible to secure a visible, manual continuity of bishops. So, most Anglicans of – e.g. the C.17 – although repudiating English non-Episcopal groups such as Congregationalists and Baptists, would have absolutely no scruple about recognising the validity of Lutheran and Calvinist ministers as the exact equivalent of priests ordained by English bishops. It was George Hickes (later a non-juring bishop) who was one of the very few C.17 Anglicans to part from that consensus. He was, he reports, persuaded by Ignatius of Antioch's statement that any church that did not have bishops, priests and deacons was not worthy of the name. Incidentally, it may be numbered among the anomalies of history that the exiled King James II, a convinced Papist, nominated Hickes for his non-juring consecration.
So, by increasingly restricting the marks of the church, Anglo-Catholics had far less ground to occupy. The only bodies that they found it possible to recognise were the very ones that could not reciprocate. They had denied themselves the options of a completely invisible church, they then denied the option of a visible, but broadly inclusive, federation of post-Reformation bodies based upon national identity and jurisdiction, with nominal succession. Thus Anglo-Catholics found themselves positively friendless, and, from Latitudinarian and Evangelical viewpoints, their attitude to the visible Church was scarcely distinguishable from the Roman position. I am not suggesting here that the Anglo-Catholic position was, essentially, wrong – only that they had painted themselves into a comer. What might have been wrong, however, was how this position, practically, alternated between a visible and invisible Church. We expected to be "recognised" by other communions and we became flustered when our orders, sacraments and intentions were disputed.
Communion and Visibility
Many years ago I fell into a 'vigorous' public dispute with Metropolitan Kallistos (Ware) [when he was, I think, but an archimandrite and I a gauche layman.] Unfortunately I was totally in the wrong on at least two levels. He had been explaining the Orthodox discipline concerning communion; that the pre-requisite is communion in the faith, which is fulfilled by participation in the Holy Mysteries. This much, unlike many of the attendees, I understood and applauded. Nevertheless, I was probably attempting to argue for exceptions for sincere, traditional Anglicans who believe that they do have sufficient communion in faith already with either Orthodoxy or Rome (although it would be logically impossible to claim total agreement in respect to both traditions). Subconsciously here I was probably influenced both by a 'pipeline' view of valid orders and true faith [some Anglicans, at least, were connected to main-drainage!] and by the modem and inauthentic categories of "intercommunion" and "Eucharistic hospitality." So, in conclusion, my question was: "if I were at the point of death, there being no other priest available, would you actually refuse me last rites and communion? "No, certainly I would not, but then I would consider that you had died in the Orthodox Church" (i.e. not within Anglicanism). [No one addressed the issue of what my status might have been had I recovered!] That reply totally shocked me; not because it was 'unthinkable,' but simply because I had never though of such a conclusion. It completely changed my perception of how non-Reformation churches really hold to the visibility of the Church, and how Anglicans may be quite ignorant on certain logical points. This judgement threw into question such slogans as "united but not absorbed" (one first forged by Pope Paul VI?) not least as emanating from one of those "nice Orthodox" rather than some "intolerant papist". Moreover, Metropolitan Kallistos was always viewed as one the more liberal theologians within the Greek Church. I was, therefore, not only mistaken in my knowledge, but wrong in my reasoning by oscillating between views of a visible and invisible church. Obviously, after the passage of so many years, I cannot recall much more than this dispute's 'punch-line'. I was unlikely to have been arguing that all Anglicans should simply be admitted to communicate at Orthodox liturgies because, in my estimation, many of them should not have even been communicating at Anglican ones! I was probably arguing for recognition of an abstract Anglican tradition and those individuals who were still faithful to it.
The great obsession for Anglicans especially orthodox ones, was that we should be recognised as legitimately within the One Church. Our arguments, however, were circuitous: "Our church has Apostolic Succession and some of us are good boys and girls with the right theological convictions. Just try to disregard the disagreeable contra-indications." In saying – and, I would maintain, with good reason – that we had the right beliefs, we were failing to define who 'we' were and falling back, partly, upon an 'lnvisibilist' position. Church order cannot rest on private judgement, even when that judgement is right. Of course orthodox Anglicanism had rested on more (in a patchy past). Yet, as Continuing Anglicans, we can scarcely claim that everything was stable or even basically orthodox throughout the 1960s-1990s.
The uncomfortable question kept rearing its head: were "we" fundamentally a church or were we merely a movement? This, at least, was resolved by re-forming as the Continuing Church. In this action we were able to resolve far more clearly that we were a visible church that believed in its visibility and corporate responsibilities. Perhaps it was this renewed realisation that prompted our presiding Archbishop, John Hepworth, to petition the Vatican to consider our corporate reunion. Frankly, at that time, this seemed impulsive, and I fear impulsive action. I also suspected that this went beyond the genuine, but measured, desire expressed in the Affirmation of St Louis to which we were. without any exceptions, committed. As I understood our ecumenical aspirations it was a desire to continue what had already been undertaken in the old Anglican Communion, and along the same lines. My disappointment with the Roman and Orthodox Communions was precisely that they did not switch from conferring with Lambeth Anglicanism to the Continuum. Realistically, however, these communions may have been wary of investing considerable time, money and effort in an unknown entity (or entities). Moreover, without wanting to disparage our bishops in any way, Orthodoxy and Rome may, additionally, have questioned the technical theological and historical acumen of the possible participants in such discussions. The Anglicans who had participated in earlier ecumenical conversations certainly had creditable backgrounds in academic terms. The Continuum did not have such theological heavy-weights. An exception was Bishop Carmino De Catenzaro (of Canada) but he died many years ago at only 62. Nevertheless, I deeply regret that the historic churches did not engage more earnestly with the Continuum, even if it had been on a more modest scale than had been the case with Lambeth Anglicanism.
Another point is to what extent should any preparations apply just to Anglicans being re-educated, accepting the conditions, discipline and relevant systems of the Roman Communion without Roman bishops and congregations re-learning what they think that they know about Anglicanism? So often even highly educated Roman Catholics might observe: "of course, as an Anglican, you do not accept the Eucharistic Presence." Replying that indeed I do, they then insist that this must be a private opinion rather than Anglican belief. I reply that in the C.19 some of our priests were suspended for reminding Anglicans that they were committed to such a belief, whilst others were actually imprisoned for demonstrating it by the re-introduction of specific ceremonial. Such misapprehensions appear to be merely the tip of the iceberg. Furthermore, despite our opening definition, these same educated folk will doubtless refer to this development as "Anglicans becoming Roman Catholics." Despite the complexity of Anglican history, some real effort needs to be made to bring Roman Catholics to a far fuller understanding in order to make a re-configured, renewed, spiritual home for co-existing traditions. So, yes, we are an Episcopal – not congregational – Church, and, yes, the Roman is a Papal Church, not a democracy. Nevertheless, preparation (theological and psychological) is not immaterial, and in the Anglican way lay-participation has mostly been an extremely conspicuous feature. Partly the problem appears to have been one of confidentiality, it was widely supposed that adverse forces, on all sides, might try to sabotage these overtures. Certainly the Continuum has never been short of opponents and detractors, so this is not completely paranoid.
The Record of Anglicanism
The unanswered question remains . . . what then is this core insight and tradition that has obliged us to persist with Anglican custom, even when we have suspended communion with the Church of England? Boiled down, it is one to which even many continuing Anglicans have cooled, it is simply this: that it is possible for Catholic faith, life and orders to survive the Reformation. Of course this is what Rome and Orthodoxy believe, but they attribute this survival either to their combative powers or from their standing apart from it. Our belief, however, is that a body can pass through the Reformation comparatively unscathed, that this passage does not necessarily destroy Catholic order. We lay our emphasis on continuity, even where continuity seems rather threadbare. Pusey puts the matter guardedly but simply: "The Church of England has from the Reformation, held implicitly; in purpose of heart, all which the ancient Church ever held." I am not seeking to demonstrate the truth of this, merely to state that Anglicans of all generations have believed this to be true. John Mason Neale, perhaps, even more simply declared that "England's faith is Catholic, England's soul is not." This is, in fact, what unites people within that tradition across the centuries. Jewel and Parker are very different from Laud and Sancroft, Hickes and Deacon from Pusey and Forbes. What all these clerics maintained, even in the case of Hickes and Deacon who left the Church of England, is that we all retained the true life of the true church throughout all these convulsions. Traditional Anglo-Catholics did not usually concede the same for other bodies. Even the Swedish Lutherans, who had recovered manual Apostolic Transmission/Succession, were viewed with suspicion. Eventually their very close involvement with the State compelled them to admit women throughout their ministry in the 1950s, so the question of their passage through the Reformation is now academic.
Furthermore, Anglicanism was unusual among post-Reformation bodies in that it did not bear the name of an individual or refer to a characteristic of the newly defined body's piety. The Evangelical bodies did not protest against being known as Lutheran and the same appears true for Calvinists. Anglicans, however, would have objected to being called Cranmerians or Hooperans, Edwardians or Elizabethans; we wanted to be Church of England. By missing out on a figurehead we avoided one feature of sectarianism. Admittedly, in Scotland we came to be known as "Piskies" (Episcopalians – nothing to do with elves). Apparently, in 1951, Archbishop Geoffrey Fisher stated in a frequently cited quotation (whose context I have never seen) that the Church of England has no faith of its own, it only has "the Catholic doctrine of the Catholic Church enshrined in the Catholic Creeds and those Creeds we hold without addition or diminution." Really, well, what have the Orthodox Churches been complaining about all these years?! This very quote, then, would seem to signal both Anglican strengths and weaknesses. The fact that Fisher has chosen "Creeds" (in the plural) actually highlights division. The Eastern Churches only have the one, and that in a form to which they (if not Anglicans) attach the greatest significance. The strength (such as it is) of Fisher's observation may be how it draws upon a long-standing Anglican approach grounded in the appeal made by Vincent of Lerrins: "everywhere, always, by all." In Anglican terms it was often expressed in the rather imprecise formula of the "Church's faith before the division of East and West." I suspect that Fisher actually had Rome (certainly not orthodoxy) in mind when alluding to our creeds "without addition" as opposed to the new Roman dogma of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, defined but the year before. In characteristically Anglican fashion Fisher rested authority in (comparatively) fixed historic texts, rather than e.g. the rule of prayer, visible continuity, sacramental actions or, obviously, patriarchal thrones. It was an appeal which had been made by Thorndike to J. B. Mozley through to Charles Gore. In turning to an "undivided Church," however, their emphasis had always been on textual orthodoxy rather than orthopraxy, because the Church – certainly just before whenever that division was deemed to have occurred – was a deeply monastic organisation. Even after the revival of religious orders within Anglicanism, no one could describe us as a deeply monastic body.
Notwithstanding its limitations, I think that this type of historically grounded approach to theological method is valuable. It is certainly the most significant aspect of our "patrimony" that I would wish either to conserve or to transplant.Yet herein lies another irony . . . This characteristically Anglican understanding of the fixed nature of inspiration and revelation sits awkwardly with models of 'development' that have gained ground in Western Catholicism since Newman wrote his essay on the subject. Obviously not every Latin theologian accepts Newman's argument even now, but there is probably more sympathy for it (in some form) than there is now suspicion. In opposing it, the distinguished (but overshadowed) theologian, J. B. Mozley is archetypically Anglican. Mozley's objections range from the simple to the theological. He makes the rather predictable point that ideas and identities can become exaggerated and distorted, and not automatically more penetrating and pure. Later, however, he suggests that Newman's theory, although applicable to a human institution, such as a school of philosophy, is not applicable to a sacramental society. Nor does he subscribe to missing or redundant doctrinal links between the building blocks of faith and orthodox dogma. How can we speak of inspiration as divine, if it has to be corrected or expanded centuries later (and then re-cast centuries later still)? Interestingly it could be argued that Mozley has an even higher view of the visible Church than Newman. It is its visibility from that very post-Resurrection Pentecost that makes 'development,' in Newman's sense, seem incongruous. Inspiration acted in the visible arena, it was a certain revelation that effected salvation in Christ; it was not just a potential force, but a fully activated one. In modern-speak the True Israel "hit the ground running!"
Fundamentally, I am not attempting to say that Newman was right and Mozley wrong, or vice versa. In true Anglican compromise I would suggest that it is the debate which "is the thing." I would maintain, however, that it is a debate which, on Mozley's side, very much preserves the record of Anglicanism, and that record really needs to be heard in this age of flux and (dare one suggest) cultic drift. Should we actually say that the debate is "the thing"? Has not the demise of Anglicanism been triggered by becoming a talking shop rather than a teaching shop? Much depends upon how the discussion arises, how and where it is conducted.
There is a sense of the sand in the oyster that creates the pearl. The Church of England produced a large number of theological works that were not only vigorous but nuanced, since it was not only engaged in controversy with Rome and Puritanism, but with itself. Yes, the sand of internal dissentions was extremely damaging but it enabled the pearl of a strangely tenacious orthodoxy to become evident. It could be argued that not only had Catholic faith survived the Reformation within Anglicanism, but had emerged the stronger (if not in numbers of convinced adherents, at least in theological expression). This too is something that we certainly can commend to the larger church. Surely the best Anglican works can take their place alongside the greatest works of theology. Are not Stone's expositions of the Eucharist and Keble's work on Eucharistical Adoration as fine as any ever produced on these topics? Obviously some of our expository work on the Church and dogma contains anti-Roman polemic, so this might be less congenial, but Francis Hall's 10 volume Dogmatics has remarkably little, moreover it is not difficult to read. Curiously, Anglo-Catholics often turn to Roman materials rather than to this brilliant resource from their own tradition.
Visibility and Validity
One might think that the only remaining dogma within traditional Anglicanism was a dogged insistence on the validity of Anglican orders. There is now no common liturgical tradition, no common ministry (Forward in Faith have women deacons – whilst GAFCON comprehends women priests – whereas we, in the Traditional Anglican Communion, believe that holy order is one, and as such not open to women). Nor is there an agreed confessional basis, nor yet communion between these alliances claiming the Anglican title. The only point on which all agree is that our orders were valid, and that other churches were deeply mistaken in disputing this. Now, I cannot imagine what would make me think differently about the validity of our orders. The papal invitation has made me think again about visibility, but not prompted me to change into grey trousers (i.e. to view validity differently). Nevertheless, the 'Anglican dogma' of its own validity is rather limited in scope. Joseph Stalin, presumably, was validly baptized, but who benefited? To semi-quote Metropolitan Kallistos once more: "more than priests dispensing valid blessings, we need priests who are a blessing."
Somewhere we seem to have missed the point. To contend so strenuously for the technical category of validity suggests that something already seems to have gone awry. Validity is introduced, surely, if problems arise through accident or emergency, matters such as clinical baptism, but not, normally, to cover so broad a definition as the legitimacy of a whole order of clergy? It was not really an issue for the smaller Anglican world of the C.17-18. Anglicans were aware that most, but not all, Roman Catholics disputed our orders, but assumed that every other church recognised them. Archbishop William Wake (one of our better C.18 Archbishops, not that this is conceding much) appeared to be under the impression that only a few troublesome Nonjurors and a greater proportion of Papists refused to recognise him. He was totally unaware that the Eastern Churches did not consider themselves in communion with him either. Again, it became an issue as we began to engage more earnestly with the rest of the visible Church, our comparative isolation was stunting our theological brain-cells.
During the C.17-18 the issues were really about Monarchy, government and legislation. If a Papist reclaimed/seized the throne, and this nearly happened as late as 1745, the established Church would have had serious competition. Consequently, various Anglican clergy, such as the Vicar of Bray, might have thought that Rome would suit their constitution. It is because Anglican circumstances had changed considerably by the 1830s that it is hard to look for enduring principles much before that date. When half the Irish bishoprics were suppressed by the Whig government (however logical this might appear to us in retrospect) this was a complete break with the way Anglicanism had functioned and had been understood. Suddenly questions of spiritual rights, theological legitimacy and even sacramental validity came to the foreground, but this was a sudden gear change for our tradition. It was, of course, an opening that was seized by the group collectively known as Tractarian/Oxford Movement/Apostolicals or even Puseyite. For some reason – possibly nostalgia among comparatively new settlers – the political independence of the Episcopal Church in America had not proved such fertile ground for asserting Anglican spiritual rights, although the new movements in England were soon to prove influential there.
NOTE THIS IS STILL NOT COMPLETE
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