A talk for a meeting
of Chelmsford REFORM, 13 November 1997 on `The Future of Anglicanism: Reformation
or Preservation?'
Introduction
The topic before us tonight is ‘The Future of Anglicanism - Reformation or Preservation?'. The title I've chosen for my particular contribution is ‘Machiavelli Goes to Church - the Anglican Ethos and the Power of the Prince'. The reason for this rather odd title relates to the old joke about the couple travelling in Ireland who stopped to ask directions only to be told, "Well if I was going there, I wouldn't be starting from here."
In the same way, whatever our dreams
about the nature of reformed Anglicanism, we probably wouldn't choose to
get there from here. But here is where we are, and it is worth asking
how we got here in order to determine how we might get there.
Can we define ‘Anglicanism'?
At the recent Study Day on the nature of Anglicanism, organized for clergy in the Barking Episcopal Area, one of the major problems, acknowledged in the plenary session, was that the day had proceeded without defining Anglicanism itself in a theologically or historically coherent way. We had thus been talking about Anglicans and Anglicanism without ever agreeing exactly what we were talking about - which some would argue is the whole point of being an Anglican. Yet the definition of Anglicanism is one of the most urgent problems facing us today. The rules of a game determine who is actually playing it, and so the definition of Anglicanism, even when it consists of unexamined assumptions, will define who can play the Anglican game and who will be sent off the field. Definitions of this sort matter most to those on the fringes.
However, although the failure to define
Anglicanism was acknowledged at the Barking Study Day, I would not accept
that such a lack of definition is inevitable. Rather, I would argue
that defining original Anglicanism is relatively straightforward if we
simply look in the Book of Common Prayer.
To Our Own People Only
The first thing to notice when we look in the Book of Common Prayer is that it regularly uses italics when referring to ‘the Church of England'. This suggests that to the English Reformers the key distinguishing mark of their church was its location. This suggestion is supported by the way the Reformers clearly regarded it as axiomatic that things could be done in non-Anglican ways outside England. Thus the preface‘Of Ceremonies: why some be abolished, and some retained', contains the following caution:
The key phrase here is ‘to our own people only'. The English Reformers clearly thought they were dealing in Universal truths, but regarding the application of those truths they set out to legislate to no one but ‘our own people only'. Hence in the same vein Article XXIV states,
The Significance of Culture
What we see here is a clear recognition of the principle that cultural diversity shapes church life. Article XXIV continues,
This would suggest that for the English Reformers true churches are distinguished from one another by location, not doctrine. A ‘particular Church' is a national church which has the authority of self-government according to the cultural principles recognized earlier in this same Article.
Thus three things emerge from the Prayer Book itself:
Second, variety amongst churches in ‘Traditions and Ceremonies' on the basis of ‘diversities of countries, times, and men's manners' was accepted as a matter of common-sense.
Third, no variety was to be accepted in any church, anywhere or at any time, regarding anything which was ‘against God's word'. Rather, in every church ‘all things' were to be done ‘to edifying'.
We may therefore conclude that the extent
of original Anglicanism was defined by sociological considerations
reflecting cultural diversity, but the nature of original Anglicanism
(as of every ‘particular or national Church') was defined by universal
theological considerations based on biblical doctrine.
The Anglican Ethos
The true genius of Anglicanism was thereby avoiding the absolutist claims to truth represented by both the church of Rome and some reforming groups in the sixteenth century, whilst simultaneously anchoring itself to an absolute standard of truth in the Bible. The Church of England did not claim to know everything, nor did it claim to legislate for everyone, but it did claim to know where truth lay, and sought to apply those truths in its own sphere of responsibility.
Hence we may say that the much-vaunted
Anglican ethos is not be uncommitted to anything, but is a commitment to
being in fellowship with the whole church in every time and place and a
commitment to the truths recovered at the Reformation.
Anglican Theology and Anglican Tradition
From the very outset of the Reformation process, therefore, we can properly distinguish between Anglican theology and Anglican tradition. Anglican theology was (in intention at least) simply that of scriptural Christianity, and its controlling ethos was that expressed in Article VI:
The Arrival of Machiavelli
Why, then, is the modern picture so complicated, and why is reform so difficult? The answer, I think, lies in the fundamentals of human nature and the accidents of history connected with the English Reformation.
One of the fundamentals of human nature is that people do not like constant change. They can endure change for so long and then they want to settle down, and once they have settled down they are loath to change again, especially it must be said, in matters of religion where traditions not only have an extraordinary power but can be established almost overnight! Hence, in England, after the turmoil of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, a desire for stability was not unnatural. And the power of this desire is seen, for example, in the endurance for a further 300 years of a 100 year old Prayer Book which announces in its own preface that "There was never any thing by the wit of man so well devised, or so sure established, which in continuance of time hath not been corrupted".
But even more significant than the conservative inclination of human nature were the accidents of history related to the time at which the English Reformation took place and the subsequent course of English history. I refer in my title to Niccolo Machiavelli, the much reviled author of The Prince. Through this work, Machiavelli has, of course, given his name to a style of politics which is cynical, devious and manipulative. However, The Prince is not at all a manual on how to conduct cynical, devious and manipulative politics. Instead, it is a detached and dispassionate description of the necessities of late medieval realpolitik.
In Machiavelli's time, political power
was frequently gained and held by violence and bloodshed. The loss
of power often involved the politician in the loss of liberty, or even
of life. Equally, to hold on to power required a willingness to be
at times brutal in the extreme. Machiavelli's mistake, if any, was
to spell out what the politicians of his day already knew. Politics
was about survival - literal, personal, survival - so that those who sought
or accepted political office were likely to be people of either extreme
ambition or extreme principle (or sometimes both)
Machiavelli Goes to Church
The significance of this becomes clear when we appreciate that Machiavelli was a contemporary of Henry VIII. Not surprisingly, the political careers of Henry, Mary and Elizabeth were literally Machiavellian.
To begin with, none of these monarchs could afford to be people of mere religious principle. In an era when the politics of Europe were more like the present day politics of Northern Ireland, these monarchs could not even afford a church which merely pleased them, let alone one which pleased itself. As Charles I discovered later, even monarchs could pay with their lives for backing the wrong spiritual horse. Thus whilst their personal beliefs might play some role in determining which persuasion they favoured, it would appear that the English monarchs were quite prepared to endorse even those things with which they did not entirely agree, provided the outcome was politically expedient.
Was Henry VIII a Protestant? It
is an unlikely label for a man who was nominated Defender of the Faith
for his attack on Luther. And yet Henry promoted Protestant clergy
to prominent positions. Was Elizabeth I any more Protestant than
her father? The candles and vestments in her own chapel might suggest
otherwise. Nevertheless, it was clear she would not go back to the
religion of her late sister. The only thing we can be reasonably
confident about in the case of these monarchs and those who followed them
is their actions. And we can understand these better once we realize
the constraints placed upon politicians in the age of Machiavelli.
The Anglican Ethos and the Power of the Prince
As far as religion was concerned, the monarchy required a church that would thrive but not threaten. And yet this was at a time when, under the impetus of its own theological understanding, the Church of England was being driven to change faster than at any time in its history. Fortunately for the monarchs, the Reformers themselves ascribed great power to godly rulers, including the power to reform the church. Indeed, to our way of thinking they were remarkably reluctant to undertake the reformation of the church in their own authority. However, the ruler they looked to was often constrained (or indeed willing) to act more like the Machiavellian prince than the godly prince of pious hope.
Elizabeth I, for example, was clearly threatened by outside forces allied to the Bishop of Rome, but felt equally threatened by the Puritans (who, in her day, corresponded to nothing other than what we would regard as Anglican evangelicals). Both groups were therefore restrained - the Catholics by the arm of the law and the Puritans by the instructions of the bishops. John Whitgift, in particular, as Archbishop of Canterbury from 1583-1604, executed the Queen's policies with relish, earning the title of her ‘little black husband' and ensuring, in the interests of a quiet church, that many Puritans were deprived both of their livelihood and of the opportunity of exercising their ministry.
Machiavelli had written:
Stephen Neil writes of this period:
The Legacy of the Prince
The religious legacy of these Machiavellian policies, however, was enormous. First, it produced a twofold ‘Anglican ethos'. On the one hand was the ethos of Anglicanism as the reformed church in England, encouraging biblical literacy and giving the nation a liturgy which taught and expressed the faith in a way which even the worst tinkerings of 1662 could not obscure. On the other hand was the ethos of Anglicanism as ‘the Church of England', whose motto seemed to be ‘Moderation in all things', but whose underlying principle was ‘Don't rock the boat'. And this principle resulted not from some brilliant theological insight or moral greatness, but from the understandable desires of a Queen who engineered a religious peace at home in order to face physical threats from abroad.
The second aspect of the Machiavellian legacy was a mentality which bred schism. Elizabeth only ever executed a handful of Puritans. However, under her the Church of England began its policy of deliberately driving out ‘the hotter sort of Protestant' from his ministerial post or parish church. It may be argued that this produced not only non-conformity itself but the divisive spirit within non-conformity. It may be suspected, for example, that the Puritans who emigrated to the New World took with them not only the desire to create there what was denied them here, but also the understanding that separation from the ‘impure' church was an inevitable consequence of the failure of reform. And from the New World, of course, the divided children of the Church of England have returned to haunt her in the form of sects, cults and general barminess. Yet in this all of this the Church of England colluded happily, on the principle that it was far better that trouble makers should leave than that they should stay and cause further trouble.
Meanwhile, Anglicanism itself became more and more the instrument of its own control in order to serve the principles of the establishment. Stephen Neil writes this about the efforts of Archbishop Laud in the reign of Charles I:
The third aspect of the legacy, which
must not be overlooked, is the globalizing of Anglicanism. The Church
of England is a worldwide church not because our theological formularies
require it. Indeed, those formularies insist that other nations must
do things their way not ours. The globalizing of Anglicanism results
entirely from the co-incidental success of the British Empire. As
a result, the particular applications of biblical theology to the English
social environment of the 16th century were to be found in use by nations
and tongues across the entire globe. The concept of ‘our own people
only' had expanded far beyond that of ‘his majesties plantations' mentioned
in the 1662 preface. The result has been to further reinforce the
idea that the Church of England is defined by its particular doctrines
and practices rather than its specific geographical location. We
need to remember that initially the term ‘Church of England' meant just
that - the Church of England. What traditions we maintain must therefore
be considered sociologically, and what principles we act on must be considered
theologically if we are to reform rather than preserve our denomination.
Which brings me to my concluding comments.
Conclusion
The Church of England as we know it was born simply through the reformation of the Church in England along biblical lines. However, the accidents of history constrained that reformation in certain directions and through certain means. The nett outcome was a Church which is still, both in its structures and its ethos, designed to fulfil the requirements of Machiavellian politics - namely that it should thrive without threatening. Fundamental to achieving this outcome has been the subtle and not-so-subtle ejection of dissidents. The Church of England imagines itself to be the home of moderation by some genius of its own, when in fact it is simply fulfilling the wishes of dead monarchs. Meanwhile, what could have been its brightest and best have left home to become rebellious children.
But the greatest irony is that history and politics have moved on. The English political system stopped executing its Archbishops roughly about the time when those same Archbishops stopped being a threat to the life of the monarch. And as the Church of England lost its life-threatening influence in English political life, so the English political powers lost their vital interest in the Church of England. What they did not do, however, was remove the means of control which were already in place. Thus the present Prime Minister is still able arbitrarily to invoke his powers and overturn the church's choice of a bishop. (Whether he has done so or not is, of course, a matter for conjecture since the process of appointing a bishop is kept entirely secret from the church at large.)
Hence we have a church whose structures are designed to limit radical independency of thought or action, and whose mentality includes an institutionalized acceptance by both the establishment and the radicals that those who don't like it can go elsewhere. Moreover, it is a church which cannot remove its own constraints, since these are imposed through statute by a political institution which has largely lost interest in the church but which is equally unlikely to choose to liberate it!
If this church is to be reformed it must stop viewing itself through the rose-tinted spectacles of historical revisionism. Tradition has its place, but it was Cyprian of Carthage in the third century who said that an ancient tradition may just be an old mistake. Our real problem is that we are like the grandchildren of emancipated slaves, who were born free but who still think and act like slaves. We are afraid of the shadows of those who burned Ridley, Latimer and Cranmer and expelled the Puritans. And we are tempted and encouraged to think that the best way forward is out, creating yet another institutionalized division in the Body of Christ.
Our forebears saw the Church of England as the Church, in England. But far from honouring Anglican tradition, they sought the total reform of the whole institution. That they were frustrated in this goal was due to circumstances beyond their control - but those circumstances no longer apply to us! The key to our continuing what they started is for us to recover their theological vision and to apply it with conviction in our context; not frightened by our rulers but obedient to our Lord. The Prince is dead - long live the King.
John Richardson
14 November 1997
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