Open Baptism and Evangelism

Following on from my last post, and tying in with some recent comments from the Church of England, I thought it would be worth saying something about the relationship between baptism and evangelism.

In some parts of the Anglican world, there is an 'open' baptism policy. That is, some church leaders are committed to the idea that the rite of baptism ought to be available to anyone who's interested in it, without qualification. For some, this is not just a passive position, but one that's quite actively and publicly promoted. The most notable recent advancement of the open baptism policy came from the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, who has given his thoughts as they've been prompted by today's baptism of Prince George. You can watch him on it here.

I think there are a couple of great things going on behind this policy. The first is that those who are pushing it understand that connecting over a baptism provides a great opportunity for talking about Jesus. No doubt this is what ++Justin is trying to do with his video for the royal baptism. And that's fantastic. The second thing in the open baptism policy is the desire to show that anyone can become a member of Jesus' church. By saying all can come for baptism, there's a good chance to reinforce that there is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female when it comes to salvation. Anyone and everyone can become a member of the body of Christ. That is also an excellent thing to say. But good as it is to communicate these two things, the open baptism policy misses many other, most critical, things. It misses belief, faith, repentance, submission, commitment - it basically misses out on the idea that people actually need to lose their life to Jesus in order to gain it eternally through him. The open baptism policy says that just an interest in Jesus, or a generally positive disposition towards him, or the church, is enough.

To be fair, I'm sure that not all open baptisers want it to end there. Some may be universalists and think that all will be saved in the end and so don't see why baptism shouldn't be administered quite freely. But I suspect others don't think that at all - and I doubt that any of them are praying for a church full of nominal Christians. I imagine that for some, what they're really hoping is that the baptisee's positive experience of the church will make them want to keep coming back, and as they do, that they will become more and more convinced of the claims of Christ. Again, this is a very commendable intention, but the open baptism approach really means that baptism is being used as an evangelistic strategy, as a winsome missional tactic, not as the symbolic marker of the people of God.

The baptism-as-evangelism approach is very mixed up and just doesn't reflect the Bible's purpose for baptism in mission. In the New Testament, it seems quite clear that baptism is not part of an evangelistic strategy, but it's what is appropriate to mark someone's conversion to faith in Jesus. The idealised process would seem to be something like: A person becomes interested in Jesus > Christian believers tell them about Jesus > by God's grace they accept Jesus as Lord and Saviour > we mark their conversion by baptising them to symbolise their being washed clean of their sins and their rising to new life. Given this, if you baptise an inquirer who hasn't yet accepted Jesus, it's hard to understand what anyone thinks is going on. You might be communicating universalism. You might be communicating that Jesus is satisfied with a little bit of interest. You might be communicating that the church really is 'lovely', but that it doesn't have any firm convictions about what it means to be the set aside people of God. You might be communicating that the church will change its beliefs to cater for the preferences of punters that it desperately wants to become new members...

The real challenge in all this actually has to do with how we connect with, welcome, love and give real time to people who are inquiring. I think these things are what many open baptisers are wanting to do, and they are most excellent things to want to do. Surely though, we can do them without compromising the sacraments.

The Chink in the Credobaptist Armour

Mark Driscoll is the founding pastor and preacher of the huge and still growing Mars Hill Church in Seattle. He is famously strong willed, strong minded and strong worded, and he consequently tends to polarise a lot of believers - which is a bit of a shame because even if we're not convinced of everything he says (which I'm not), we should all still be able to appreciate his incredible gifts in church leadership and preaching, and his undivided passion for Jesus (which I do). Anyway, I don't want to get into any of that now, but I do want to think about baptism in light of something Driscoll posted online yesterday.

Driscoll is a committed credobaptist. He believes that infants should not be baptised, because baptism is the sign that's meant to accompany an individual's conscious profession of faith, something that infants are unable to make. Like many credobaptists, he tends to picture paedobaptists - those of us who will baptise babies - as being a superstitious and 'religious' bunch who trust in the rituals of church institutions for their salvation, instead of in Jesus Christ alone.

Now in preaching on the commandment against murder, Driscoll has taken a fresh look into some of the hard cases concerning the fate of the dead. In particular, he's asked the tough question of what happens to babies when they die. I found his post on this to be pastoral, biblical, balanced, and even genuinely touching. You can read it here. But what was also interesting about it was that he acknowledged the possibility that babies who die are redeemed members of the elect and that they therefore go to heaven. Driscoll rallies a number of theologians and Bible texts to support this view, and I think there are even more that could be added. It seems then that credo- and paedobaptists alike agree that infants can be saved. But then what does that mean for infant baptism? That is, if some infants can or may be saved, why should we withhold baptism from them.

I think at one level, this really drives us back to what we think baptism is all about. If we agree that baptism symbolises something rather than does something, then we need to ask exactly what it is that we think it symbolises. It seems to me that for credobaptists, it symbolises not just our salvation, but our choice or our profession and that is why the symbol is closely synchronised with the timing of that choice or profession. To some extent, they believe its emphasis is on our response to God. For paedobaptists, however, when babies are baptised, it represents God's covenant or election. That is, the emphasis is on his initiative. These are quite different views of baptism. Not completely at odds with each other, but with the focus in different places.

Of course the screaming hole in the paedobaptist argument is that it's impossible to know if God has or hasn't elected a baby. But what even Driscoll has said is that we must make proper room for the very real possibility that he has. And so again the question: If baptism doesn't do anything towards salvation, why withhold it from babies who may well be elect? Aside from coupling baptism with choice or profession, one of the strongest practical answers that credobaptists give to this is that infant baptism breeds nominalism. It makes people, families, denominations and even nations believe that they are all safe and Christian because they were baptised as babies, and this no doubt an incredibly dangerous thing. There is real wisdom in calling for only mature people to be baptised after they have freely professed their faith because that forces them to make a clear choice for Jesus and prevents nominals from thinking they're in the same boat. This perspective is so good that I nearly want to go for it. But then, I just don't believe baptism is so strongly anchored to choice or profession. I do believe it's also a sign of God's covenant and election. As such, I think baptism is appropriate for the babies of believers, who I think ought to be considered as though they are in the covenant family of God more than they are considered to be out of it.

One story and two practical, principled points might bring my position home.

The story is of a baby I baptised a number of years ago who was quite seriously mentally disabled. The parents were - and still are - passionate believers and actively involved in the life and mission of the church. They raise their children in line with their clear faith in Jesus. Now, I think it's a real possibility that this child may never be able to articulate that faith in Jesus and so I wonder if a credobaptist would ever allow them to be baptised or if they would instead say that the child could live their life within the fold of the church, but never be marked by its identifying symbol. I know this is an extreme case, but thinking about it helps us to clarify our beliefs about infant baptism.

The two practical and principled points.

First is that I don't think we should baptise the babies of unbelievers. That would be like giving communion to unbelievers. It seems to me that the church should be wide open to all people and should love all people and witness to all people, but it should still make the distinction between those who are in the family of faith and those who aren't, and it seems to me that the sacraments mark the lines in the sand. (For the same reason, I don't think unbelievers should be encouraged to take communion.) If churches were strict with this baptism policy - and given what the Book of Common Prayer says, Anglican churches should be - then I think the paedobaptist position becomes a lot more credible. If we're sloppy with this policy, paedobaptism - and baptism in general - becomes somewhat empty even of its own claims and breeds that unhealthy nominalism.

Secondly, I would more properly describe myself as a paedo- and credobaptist. That is, I have been blessed to be in churches where there has been an active mission to unbelieving adults and where some of those adults have come to faith. When this has happened, we've then had them publicly and joyfully profess their trust in Jesus as we've baptised them! These are actually some of my most precious memories of church. And here's the rub - I actually think this is what we see in New Testament. Credobaptists will often say that the only baptisms we see in the New Testament are of new converts, but that's precisely the point! They are converts. They were unbelievers who were outside the people of God and who were evangelised and converted by God's grace, so of course they should have been baptised at that point - that was the first time they knew the Lord. Theirs is quite a different experience to that of children raised in believing families. And of course the New Testament focusses on these conversion stories because it's a mission manifesto. While the Old Testament deals a lot with the internal life of the people of God, the New Testament shifts the focus onto the mission to unbelievers. This is why there is no place in the New Testament where we clearly see children of believers getting baptised. And for anyone who wants to run that fact as an argument against paedobaptism, the response is that neither do we find in the New Testament any examples of children of believers being held back from baptism so that they can save it for the time of their mature profession. This seems to be what credobaptists think should happen with the children of believers, but the Bible does not show that at all. Not once. In fact, the pattern of the Old Testament is that people who are born into the family of God must be regarded as 'in' until such time as they choose not to be. That's not to say they're saved by family or race, but they are to be counted 'in' by covenant grace.

This has been a long post and while I've been pleased to make the paedobaptist case, I do want to say as clearly as possible that I'm not anti-credobaptist. I know that denominations have split over this one, but for me, so long as there is common understanding that Jesus, and not the ritual, is the Saviour, then we can share good fellowship.

____


Just after posting this, I saw a tweet from the Church of England pointing to this page. There is some wriggle room in what it says, but in light of what I've written above, I have to say that I'm not comfortable with what its message seems to be. At very best, it's unhelpfully ambiguous.

** This post has been edited - nothing substantial, just a bit of tidying up.

Cool Furnishings at Holy Trinity Cambridge

Q: Why is this one of the most historically important cabinets for evangelical Anglicanism?

A: Because of this -

So, while I'll never be able to say that I've preached from Simeon's pulpit, I can at least say that I've left my wallet and keys on it while I was playing music with the Holy Trinity band.


Another cool, historical piece from HT is the communion cup.

Notice the date it was made? 1569!

I've just finished some work looking into what Anglicans believed about the Lord's Supper during the early Elizabethan years so it's pretty cool that my church has a chalice from those days.

Cambridge has been a great place to live, study and share fellowship for tons of reasons. These are just two of the minor notes that have added to it.

An Obvious Implication

After a conversation with a friend about all things Anglican the other day (well, some things Anglican), I made a connection that I hadn't made before - despite the fact that it's pretty obvious. So, forgive me if this something that everyone else realised ages ago... sometimes I'm a bit slow...

I realised that if an Anglican diocese chooses to ordain women into teaching and oversight and roles, then they can never again have bishops who are conservative on this issue (notwithstanding a synod- or province-level about face on the issue).

That is, as Anglicans worldwide battle over the question of whether the biblical prohibitions on women leading men in churches are culturally or circumstantially specific on the one hand, or universal on the other, they're actually deciding who they will allow into church leadership roles in more than one way. If a diocese comes down on the egalitarian side of the debate and chooses to welcome women into the priesthood, then they're also saying that they will no longer welcome any bishops who won't ordain women to that office.

Again, it's all kinda obvious, but I do wonder if every diocese that's gone down this path has consciously realised that in doing so they've ruled out many otherwise eligible candidates for future episcopal roles. I suppose that a gracious egalitarian archbishop who was genuinely committed to including and representing the breadth of views in their diocese could appoint a conservative suffragan / coadjutor bishop and give them a special dispensation to abstain from the ordinations of women to the priesthood. But really...

Anyways, as a conservative myself (though hopefully not a redneck conservative!), I've often felt that the fear-mongering among fellow conservatives on this issue has been a bit overplayed. But this simple connection has made me realise that the squeeze is on us perhaps a little more than I'd previously thought. At the moment, the egalitarian dioceses that I know best are still willing to ordain and welcome the ministry of people who are conservative on this issue, but now I guess it's those conservatives who will have a glass ceiling over their heads! Again, perhaps it's only my slowness that thinks the ceiling has the transparency of glass. At any rate, that's quite a turnaround.

Oh well, I guess we can at least relax happy in the knowledge that gospel ministry is about service and not about titles and power and institutional advancement. I'm pretty sure that Jesus isn't going to line us up by our worldly ranks on the last day!

History can Confirm

So someone has asked for some thoughts about Confirmation - that ritual of the Anglican (and Catholic) Church that confuses lots of people - and that some credobaptists love to have a go at! After all, isn't Confirmation just proof that our children really missed out on something by not being able to choose to be baptised for themselves? And doesn't this just make a mockery of the gospel that doesn't see us saved by our family affiliations but by each person's individual faith in Jesus as Saviour? As a convinced paedobaptist, I have responses to all the common objections, but I don't want to make them the point of this post. Perhaps for another time... But also, in order to understand Anglican Confirmation properly, baptism isn't the place to start anyway, church history is. Let me explain.

In England the Church is established. Christianity is (currently) the official religion of the nation. The people have lived under Christian monarchs for countless generations and - before the rise and rise of cultural pluralism, mass immigration and hyper individualism - the expectation has been that all English people were Christians. By default, this also meant that they were all also members of the Church of England. Now, we might all agree that there's a level at which this is pretty fanciful stuff: there's never been a nation where all the subjects were truly Christian; this is a sure way to breed rank nominalism; etc; etc. But none of that's really the point for now. The point is just that the English Church has historically been cleaved to the machinery of the State.

Now, this is significant here because it used to be that you couldn't participate in English civic life if you weren't a Christian. Just as there was once a time when women or black people weren't given a vote, so too there was a time when non-Christian people couldn't hold public office or take up a full place in society. In England, a non-Christian used to be persona non grata. So, how then did the State know whether you were a committed Christian or not, given that most everyone was baptised as a baby? It was by Confirmation. The bishop would come and publicly examine the confirmee on their understanding of the basics of the faith as expressed in the Apostles' Creed, the Ten Commandments and the Lord's Prayer, and you had to pass to be a full member of the national Church and a full citizen of the State.

Now there's an upshot of all this for anyone who thinks it's worth people learning something about Jesus and Christianity. It's that it meant that in preparation for their big exam, every person in England was schooled in those three formulae, which were, and still are, the basis of the Church Catechism. And consequently, the Church Catechism did, and still does, make up the bulk of the Anglican Church's Confirmation service that's in the Book of Common Prayer.

So, that's where Confirmation comes from. It was a formal rite of passage for both the Church and the State. Now, let's jump forward and ask about today. What's the point of Confirmation in a post-Christendom society where Confirmation no longer confers any privileges at all?

Well, it certainly has less significance now, and its certainly not something that Anglicans consider to be mandatory (unless you want to be ordained). But it still does allow children baptised as infants to make a public profession of their faith if they feel they want to. It's a way they can say to the world that they've owned the faith they were brought up in at a personal level. Of course, their participation in the life of the church might make the same statement anyway. And they can have this involvement because Anglicans don't exclude their children from full participation until such time as they've been through a public ceremony. (Which, in a nice irony, makes us far less enslaved to church ritual than some of the credobaptists at this point!)

But aside from its reduced relevance, there are some real problems with modern day Confirmation. One is that it's often not done 'by the book' and involves no real interrogation by the bishop at all. Sadly this means that it's not always completely clear what the service is meant to be confirming. Is it the fact that the confirmee wants to partake in a ritual of the Church? Is it that their pastor thinks they're a really decent guy or girl? Is it that they want to own their Anglican heritage? Or are we confirming that they believe the basics of the Christian faith as expressed in the Creed, that they they want to uphold the Ten Commndments and that they they've learnt to approach God the Father through the prayer that Jesus taught - without necessarily even referring to those things in the service at all?

Another problem is that sometimes confirmees can simply be going through the motions in compliance with the wishes of their parents or other significant adults. That is, it's no more about them choosing to declare their faith in Jesus than their baptism was (ok - so there's one pitched up for you credobaptists to have a swing at!) But despite these problems, it would be unfair to reject the whole idea of Confirmation because any dimension of religion can be corrupted by hollow ritualism. Everything can be broke.

So then, two sentence summary: Confirmation used to have an important social function as it was the way of entering into full participation in England's Christendom society. Now its significance is much less, although it can be one great way for those baptised as infants to confirm that they love being part of the family of Jesus' saved people.

Anglican Communion

Ok - so this one's a bit sooner than expected. Having been in conversation about the Lord's Supper in Anglican Churches yesterday, I thought I'd put down a few thoughts here.

Although it wasn't the only issue in the Protestant Reformation, the theology and practice of the Lord's Supper was pretty front and centre. It was one of the key issues over which the Church of England separated from the Roman Catholic Church. Without going into all the details, the English rejected the ideas that the body Christ was physically present in the Communion and that the act of taking communion was in any way meritorious. They weren't purely memorialists like the Swiss (although they came pretty close at a couple of points), but believed in a spiritual presence of Christ in the bread and wine that was conditional upon the faith of the recipient.

Interesting as all this is (!), the thing I've been discussing lately is whether or not anyone cares anymore. In the sixteenth century, this stuff was considered to be so important that endless hours were spent developing more and more complex, refined and detailed theologies, and whole movements were prepared to break away from each other over their differing beliefs. Those separations still exist today in the form of different denominations and national churches, but are we still concerned about this big issue that was so important to the split in the first place?

That last question is sparked by two of the approaches that I've seen to the Lord's Supper in Anglican Churches, both of which seem strange to me. One is effectively a return to something like the Catholic Mass, with the sense that more is going on in the Communion than the Reformers would ever have been happy with. I wonder if in some cases, churches that have this 'Anglo-Catholic' approach to the sacraments got there via an attraction to the aesthetic of Catholic worship, rather than a conviction about non-Protestant theology. I suspect that in some cases these kinds of churches don't like the separatist flavour of Protestantism and are wanting to express their endorsement of the 'universal' ideal of the Catholic Church. Although both of these things might be ok as far as they go, I do think that for integrity's sake, once you step over into Catholic sacramental theology, you should probably consider whether or not it's time to leave the Anglican Church and formally join the Catholics.

The second thing that I've seen tends to happen in those Anglican Churches with a more evangelical bent and it's the downplaying of the sacraments altogether. This can even get the point where Communion is shared very infrequently and when it does happen, the minister seems to feel the need to offer an extended apology for it - or almost to even explain it away. I suspect this happens out of a fear that no one present should fall into the trap of thinking that what's going on is the same as what goes on in Catholic Churches and, to be fair, I think for many punters, this distinction is necessary. But sometimes it can get to sounding like the Lord's Supper has been downgraded, which is not at all what the first Protestants did. They didn't marginalise or diminish the Supper, they reformed it - or even attempted to restore it to its proper biblical pattern. They maintained a high view of Communion, even if not a Roman view. The other thing that sometimes happens in these sorts of churches is that a lot of effort goes into explaining what Communion isn't, but not much goes into explain what it is, and why it matters. This is a problem because negative information about something never builds up a positive understanding.

A wise friend once said to me that a person's sacramental theology reveals a great deal about their entire theological framework and I believe that's worthy of some reflection. If you have a semi-Catholic view of the Lord's Supper, do you have a semi-Catholic theology overall? Does that matter? If you have a low view of the Lord's Supper, do you have a low view of theology overall? Does that matter? And if you just have an underdeveloped view of the Lord's Supper, do you also have an underdeveloped theology? And does that matter?

I'm actually putting these as more than just rhetorical questions too. Given that, on the whole, we don't seem as fazed by sacramental theology these days as we were five hundred years ago, does any of it really matter? Was the big Reformation blow-up really a storm in a teacup (or a chalice)? Is the looser grip that we now seem to have on these questions actually a better reflection of gospel priorities? Have we progressed or regressed since the early days of the split with Rome?

The Corpus Clock and the Motto of Canterbury

One of the things that's really worth stopping to look at in Cambridge is the Corpus Christi Clock with its 'Chronophage' that's just opposite the main entrance to King's College and which was unveiled by Stephen Hawking a few years back. This is massively interesting for heaps of reasons - its design, machinery and even the philosophy behind it just to name a few. In fact, if you have a spare five minutes, it's worth watching this little video featuring Dr John C Taylor who is the clock's inventor and maker.

On the clock is the inscription mundus transit et concupisentia eius. This is the Latin for 1 John 2:17a, 'the world and the desire for it are passing away', which is part of a warning not to love the temporary things of the world which are opposed to God the Father and his eternal purposes. This is fitting for a clock that so vividly portrays time being consumed as it passes by the devilish locust that sits on top of the wheel. (For me, the locust is also a strong reminder of the warning in the book of Joel, where the last judgment of God is prefigured by the temporal judgement of the locust plague.)

Although there's lots written about this clock, I haven't found anyone commenting on the fact that mundus transit et concupisentia eius was the motto of Matthew Parker. Parker was Archbishop of Canterbury under Elizabeth I, but prior to that he was also successively graduate, fellow and master of Corpus Christi and I presume this must be why that Latin verse was chosen for the clock. Perhaps it was even Parker's focus on an eternity overseen by the sovereignty of God that inspired the College to have the clock made in the first place. I've sent an email to Corpus Christi asking about it.

Geology and Church Visit - St Michael the Archangel, Lyme Regis

Apart from being a great little historic seaside town, one of the big attractions of Lyme Regis on Dorset's Jurassic Coast is its abundance of fossils. It seems that there are more ammonites than anything else, but there have been some other pretty exciting finds here too. (Being an ex-geologist, I maintain a bit of an interest in rocks, minerals, crystals, earth-history, etc. Bragging point: in my third or fourth year at uni I won the prize for best in mineralogy and crystallography! Anyhoo... )

Mary Anning is famous in Lyme Regis' history as one of its paleontological pioneers. And while the town now recognises her in lots of ways - eg. street name, museum in her house - in her day, she struggled to share her scientific work because women were not afforded the same recognition in the sciences as men. Sad as this is, I was encouraged by something else, which is the fact that she's buried along with her brother in the town's churchyard. I don't want to over-interpret this, but it seems to me that this is another good, historical example of a passionate scientist resting peacefully with the faith of the church. (Or maybe even a passionate believer resting peacefully with the scientific enterprise.)

It is so painfully tedious - eye-rollingly, yawn-inducingly boring really - when some people try to force a stark polarisation between those who 'believe science' and those who 'are religious'. Plenty has been written about this clumsy, false dichotomy and I can't be bothered getting into it here. Suffice to say that those who characterise different perspectives on the world that way can only be regarded as having a superficial understanding of both science and Christianity. But for me, seeing Mary Anning's grave, in such a picturesque setting as it is, just nicely illustrated again that there is no jarring contradiction within those who love Jesus as their Lord and Saviour and who also love exploring the natural world that he created.

From page 183 of Browne's commentary on the Anglican Articles of Religion:

"in asserting the sufficiency of Scripture, we assert it for the end to which it was designed. … we do not assert it as fit to teach us arts and sciences … where it does not profess to be a perfect guide, we derogate not from its authority in seeking other help."

Happy 450th Birthday 39 Articles

Last year we celebrated 400th anniversary of the King James Bible and the 350th anniversary of the Book of Common Prayer, but yesterday marked another significant milestone for the Anglican Church.

While the confirmation of Justin Welby as the 105th Archbishop of Canterbury was important and well covered by the press, no one seems to have noticed that it was the 450th anniversary of the bishops' subscription to their newly amended version of Cranmer's doctrinal articles. That is, it was 450 years since they approved the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion.

There were a few minor tweaks in the years that followed: Article 20 was given a new opening sentence, Article 29 was dropped for around eight years before being re-included in 1571, at which time a couple of extra books were also added to the list of the Apocrypha in Article 6 and all the titles and numbers were standardised... But - what we have now was essentially finalised 450 years and one day ago.

I should have posted this yesterday, but despite the fact that I've been working closely on the history of the Articles for the past few weeks, it didn't click until just now! I guess we could re-mark the occasion in 2021 which will be 450 years since the 1571 Convocation re-subscribed to the very final version. Meantime, praise God for four and a half centuries of solid Anglican doctrine!

Church Visit - St Edward King and Martyr

Last week a few of us visited the Cambridge church where Hugh Latimer held the pulpit - and sometimes shared it with Cranmer. The attendant there was even good enough to allow us to step up and get the feel of it for a moment.

One thing that was interesting was the attendant's strong Protestant beliefs. Despite the fact that I had heard that this church now sat some way away from the convictions of the Reformation, the attendant was actually grieving even the fact that the stained glass had been replaced in the 1800s as it shifted the focus from the preaching of the Bible and onto the ornamentation of the building. He wanted nothing but the unmodified gospel to be communicated in this building.

May Latimer's brave legacy long continue here.

Church Visit - Ely Cathedral

One of the things that the English reformers were famous for was iconoclasm - destroying the 'superstitious' symbols of ritualised worship as part of their efforts to refocus the church on the gospel as it's revealed in the written words of Scripture. One participant in this tear-it-down movement was Thomas Goodrich, Bishop of Ely from 1534 and right through Edward VI's reign.

Goodrich was responsible for gutting the Chapel of the Blessed Virgin Mary that sits to the north of the main structure of Ely Cathedral. This was a relatively unsurprising move, given that 'Mary worship' was part of the old Roman Catholic religion that the Reformation Protestants most definitely wanted to expunge. But today it makes for a stark contrast to enter the Chapel and find something reminiscent of a disused church hall with nothing but plain glass all the way around after having just stepped out of the unbelievably ornate Cathedral proper with its countless ornaments, carvings and intricate stained glass windows.

But then, similarly incongruous within this bare chapel, there is a lone statue of the BVM standing proud against the wall, looking down on the room with arms held up high - praising God? receiving praise? I didn't find out for sure, but it must be that this was returned to the Chapel during a period of restoration (one of which was as recent as the year 2000). Whenever it was put there, it's pretty certain that it wouldn't have sat well with the plans that Goodrich had for Christian worship during Edward's time. Leaving nothing but Mary to focus on would have cut strongly against the grain.

That said, however, Goodrich did manage to find a comfortable place under Mary Tudor, who returned the Church of England back to Rome. And he did leave the rest of the Cathedral intact. I don't really know all that much about him, but think it would be interesting to learn more of Goodrich's views on gathered worship and how they changed over time.

From a theological perspective, I can plainly see the point in getting rid of the images. But also, coming at the Cathedral culturally, artistically and architecturally, I have to say that I appreciate a lot of what was left. It captures a lot of history that the Chapel doesn't and, frankly, it's pretty stunning to look at. I guess the question is how to preserve the buildings and their heritage without risking any confusion about how God mediates his grace to us.

Risen Anglicans

One of my interests is the degree to which the Anglican Church presents a biblical balance of the doctrines of atonement and eschatology, or, of Jesus' cross and his resurrection. Generally speaking, it seems that evangelical Anglican churches are far more focussed on atonement and consequently, it's not unusual for them to marginalise eschatology.

(The main exception to this is when they're offering an apologetic for the resurrection; most evangelical Anglicans are absolutely insistent about the fact that Jesus really rose from the dead. But this vigour in arguing for the fact of Jesus' resurrection is rarely matched by a depth of explanation about what Jesus' resurrection means. So, on Good Friday, you might well go into an evangelical Anglican church and hear all about how Jesus died on the cross for our sins - fantastic - but then when you go back on Easter Day, you might not hear so much about why he rose, apart from that being a necessary vindication of his cross.)

Anyhoo, on the weekend, I was at an evangelical Anglican church for a wedding (which was great!) and instead of having a cross in their chancel, they had this this.

I have no idea about who put those words there or when or what the flavour of the church was at the time, but this focus on Jesus' resurrection and ascension is great! Being evangelical, I presume the church gets a good dose of atonement theology in the preaching. I would love to know how much the words on the wall represent the members' self-understanding as the risen people of God. That is, after all, one of the most profound things that they are as Christian believers.

(Seasonally relevant liturgical note: Anglicans often use advent to focus on the parousia as well as the incarnation as the first coming points to the second.)

Our 'Inclusive' Church

Lots of people these days talk about the Anglican Church being 'inclusive'. The term sounds very nice, but it's actually unhelpfully imprecise. Clearly Anglicans - like any group - are not fundamentally inclusive of anything and everything; that would be a nonsense. No mainline denomination or organisation will want to proclaim that it is proudly inclusive of people who are indifferent about sexual abuse, who are racist, who are exploitative, etc, etc. There are always boundaries and even when some would want to loosen up some official positions, implicit lines remain - or new ones are drawn.

So, if someone says that the Anglican Church is an 'inclusive' church, what they probably mean is that it doesn't draw boundaries in places where some other churches do, or even in places where it has done in the past. I think a simple, clarifying question to ask someone who makes such a statement is, 'Inclusive of what?'

An interesting test-case comes around the question of ordaining women to the priesthood, or consecrating women to the episcopate. This is a huge issue in the Anglican Church at the moment. There are conservative members who feel that the traditional and historic position of the church captures the plain teaching of the Bible and therefore, they are uncomfortable seeing women enter into every level of church leadership. And then there are those who feel that the Church's reluctance to ordain and consecrate women is really just part of its outdated cultural baggage and that the key passages in the Bible can be quite reasonably interpreted in such ways as to remove all impediments to women serving in any position in the church. In fact, some go further and say that in today's culture, the gospel demands equal opportunity for women in the church's orders of ministry. My point right now is not to argue for one position or the other, but rather to ask what it means for a church to be inclusive when there are different views on this issue.

The Archbishop of Canterbury Designate, Bp Justin Welby, holds a progressive view on the issue itself and thinks that women should be able to serve in any capacity in the church. However, he is also of the view that members who think differently to him shouldn't be marginalised. He has spoken of his great respect for those people who hold a more conservative position and he has acknowledged and encouraged their faithful and fruitful ministries. In short, Welby's idea of Anglican inclusiveness is that all ought to be equally included irrespective of their convictions at this particular controversial point. His view is not "we are an inclusive church, therefore if you don't apply that inclusivity to the question of women in ministry, you're not welcome".

This is similar to the official view current in Melbourne and in the rest of Australia. Most Australian dioceses have approved the consecration of female bishops, but the bishops have also agreed to a protocol for alternative oversight for those who can't in good conscience accept the episcopal ministry of a woman. Now, many people complain about the workability of this protocol and wonder if policies coming from it could ever be practically implemented, but the very fact that such a protocol exists makes an important statement to both conservatives and the church as a whole. It says that even if your views are not mainstream, the church does not want to eject you but would rather find ways to accommodate you and your ministry.

Of course, the real test for this 'inclusive' approach comes when we try to decide for which doctrines we will allow differences of opinion and for which ones we won't. If we fully include members with different views around the ordination and consecration of women, what about things like homosexual practice, infant baptism, vestments, the infallibility of Scripture, eschatology, soul sleep, the uniqueness of Christ, justification by faith alone, liturgical practice, the nature of the sacraments... Some might look at a quick list like that and have a strong and immediate view on some of the doctrines. Perhaps justification by faith is absolutely not-negotiable and soul sleep is a matter of indifference. But what are the criteria? Who applies them? And who decides what the criteria are and who applies them?

We can be an inclusive church and there is something good and even necessary about that. But if we're going to stand for anything at all - and if we're going to stand together for anything at all - there's also a whole other level of complexity that we cannot avoid.

Ten Reasons to be Anglican

Over a decade ago, when I was debating whether or not to sign myself up for the Anglican Church, I was presented with some pretty crummy reasons in favour. Among the least inspiring was the suggestion that the Anglican Church was just the 'best boat to fish from'. That is, while there's not really a whole lot that comes to mind in favour of it, it's probably better than the alternatives. Another equally bland attraction was that the Anglican Church had good job security. Whereas baptist congregations can sack their ministers at the drop of a hat, you're safer in the Anglican system, so the argument went. Well, I joined up anyway...

In recent times, I've been encouraged to think about some non-Anglican jobs and this has given me fresh pause to think about why I really want to stay an Anglican. Is there anything more positive that makes me - and might make others - want to be a flag-flying, card-carrying, unashamed Anglican follower of Jesus?

Of course, I know that at one level, this is a marginal issue. On the last day, Jesus isn't going to line up everyone by denomination. Far less is he going to embrace any denominational construct for its own sake. (Although I suspect that there may be denominational sins for which members of denominations will be held to account.) At another level though, it's a practical reality for lots of people who are thinking about church life. And it's certainly an essential question for anyone who wants to consider, and be considered for, church leadership.

So then, here are ten things that I think Anglican Church has got going for it and that make me really want to invest in it. Maybe others will think of more.

1. Solid theological foundation. Starting with the basics, the authoritative, foundational documents of the church are deep, clear and helpfully nuanced. The position on key points of doctrine are not only well defined, but also even artfully embodied into the well-balanced liturgies. The focus is squarely on Jesus Christ and his gospel as revealed through the historic Scriptures.

2. Breadth in secondary matters. The flip side of the first point is that Anglicans are permissive on non-core matters. There are many different traditions and styles within the Anglican Church and that's completely fine. With the essentials pinned down, there's plenty of freedom for different expressions of the faith and even for different views on some doctrinal questions. (For those who think that the liturgies are too inflexible, my own experience is that wooden services are more often the result of services leaders who don't embrace all the freedoms that the liturgies give them and then put proper time and effort into planning their services well.)

3. High value on scholarship. Anglicans are thinkers (sometimes to a fault) and have never been satisfied with Sunday-school theology (except in our Sunday schools!) Anglicans have always been deeply engaged with matters of philosophy, history, ethics, science and any other area of human exploration and there's no sign that this is going to end in a hurry.

4. Well-recognised church. While this isn't everything and mustn't be overly relied upon, it does mean something important to lots of people. Some who encounter church either for the first time or at a significant junction in their life, feel a lot more comfortable hearing "We're Anglicans" than "We made up our own church".

5. Longstanding community connections. Following on from the last point, there are still many parts of the world where Anglican parish churches have significant relational networks that spread through their suburbs and even into other organisations. Add to this the existing reach and impact of the extra-parochial agencies that serve so many in our communities (eg. Anglicare, Brotherhood of St Lawrence, etc) and it's clear that there are lots of ways that Anglicans already have considerable and important social connections.

6. Worldwide fellowship. The connections aren't just local either. The Communion is worldwide (around 80 million people globally) which not only means that there's a good fellowship of Anglicans in lots of places you can visit, but also that Anglican Churches are highly multicultural. In Melbourne, Chinese and Sudanese make up two of the largest sub-groupings within the Anglican Church.

7. Participatory decision-making structures. Although the Archbishop of Canterbury is the worldwide figurehead, his role isn't like the pope's in the Roman Catholic Church. Anglicans are 'episcopally led and synodically governed' which means that the local bishops are charged with setting direction and with hiring and firing clergy to achieve it (see this post on the role of bishops), but the lay people have their voices heard and their questions answered and can hold various offices in their parish and diocese.

8. Focussing on opportunities. Most Anglican dioceses around the world are in agreement that there is great need to keep pioneering new ways of doing church and of ministering to more and more people. The Church of England's Mission-Shaped Church report lays out a very positive agenda for the church and most of the Communion have grasped this sort of thinking and are eager to find ways to make new things happen.

9. Lots of resources. Primarily people and buildings. Now, buildings aren't everything and it's very dangerous to think that just having the keys to some real estate is going to build the Kingdom. But, having a meeting place on the main street of pretty much every town (at least here in Australia) and then also living space for a minster to go with it is a fantastically useful thing.

10. Administrative support. A centralised system for managing banking, payrolls, insurance, superannuation, professional standards and so on is priceless and saves each parish church from having to comply in all of these areas on its own.


As I've been writing, more things have been springing to mind, but I'll leave it there for now.

Anglicanism is far from perfect and it certainly has its fair share of problems, both large and small. But it seems to me that while anyone can easily point out negative things, it would be a great shame to either use those things to characterise the Anglican Church or to sink all of our energies into dealing with them. It's very good to keep remembering some of the reasons that the Anglican Church is a particularly great and faith-filled part of Jesus' church with a huge amount of potential. I'm staying.

Old Skool Discipleship

How often do we think about the Church Catechism? It's a brief outline of the Apostles' Creed, the Ten Commandments and the Lord's Prayer that's been in every Book of Common Prayer since 1549 (largely unchanged although the bit on the sacraments was added in 1604).

So what?

Well, the catechism contains what Anglicans believe are the essentials of the faith (cf. the 39 Articles which have a different function altogether). To reinforce this, lots of Anglican churches actually have the Creed, Commandments and Lord's Prayer up on 'commandment boards' at the front of the building to make starkly plain what it is that we believe about God, how we want to live in light of those beliefs and the way we can call on God to help us in that. This triplet was so important to the Church of England that, according to Prof. Ian Green who's written the book on catechisms, there were something like 500,000 copies of the catechism printed between the 1540s and 1640s, making it by far the most printed text of the time. Everyone was expected to know the catechism off by heart as a summary of their faith.

So now, here's the question. How many Anglicans nowadays can rattle off the Apostles' Creed, Ten Commandments and Lord's Prayer without looking them up? I'm not suggesting that this is the test of a 'true' Christian and I'm well aware that we're living in a different time, with different ways of learning, etc, etc. However, if we can't recite these things and demonstrate some basic understanding of their right meaning, I do wonder whether we've been learning other equally valuable things instead or if we've just abandoned the idea of a clearly structured, educative discipleship. I guess it probably depends a lot on which particular Anglican church you go to.

I suspect that some people might read this and think "I don't know those things, but I learn the Bible each week". Well, that would be a great thing. But before we just move on from there, it's good to remember that the Ten Commandments and Lord's Prayer actually come from the Bible anyway and that the 16th century church also had the ideal of reading the entire Old Testament once a year, the New Testament three times and all the Psalms each month, so they weren't using the catechism as some light-weight alternative to Bible reading.

Just as I'd been thinking about this, a friend sent me this link to an iPad ap for a modern day catechism. I was wondering how we could revive old skool catechesis. Someone beat me to it!

Future Leaders - Appreciation and Issues

This semester I'm helping out at Ridley Melbourne by meeting weekly with a group of Anglican ordinands. To kick our group off, I asked them three questions. Here they are with the group's responses -

1. Why are you putting yourself forward for Anglican service?

• The 39 Articles make a good confession.
• The episcopal and parochial structure of the Anglican Church provides a good mix of support and autonomy.
• It's a good ministry platform - there's investment in leaders and church-planting opportunities.
• Its unique mission opportunity - the parish system covers the world.
• A personal history in the Anglican Church.
• It accommodates different personal styles of ministry.
• It has solid foundations.
• It accommodates some breadth.
• There is theological balance and tolerance.
• Great cross-cultural potential.
• Commitment to global fellowship and service.
• Strong stream of scholarship and solid theologians.
• Equivalence of ordination.
• Liturgy - its order and comprehensiveness.
• Training and succession planning.
• Its beauty - in theology and structure.
• Concern for social justice.

2. What questions do you have for / about the Anglican Church?

• How do I participate in synod?
• What are the not-negotiables?
• How are bishops made?
• How are councils / committees / etc constituted?
• How does church planting / repotting work?
• What direction is the Anglican Church heading?
• What's the story with GAFCON, TEC, ACNA, etc?
• What is canon law?
• How does the Province of Australia work?
• What do Anglicans believe about 'reserved sacrament'?
• Will a woman get the same opportunities as a man to serve? What arrangements are in place for maternity leave, etc?

3. What concerns do you have about the Anglican Church?

• The confrontational nature of synod.
• Disagreement over the basics.
• Lack of discipline.
• Some limits on the possibilities for working in different cultural contexts.
• Bureaucracy.
• The need to submit to bishops.
• Dry traditionalism.
• Ineffectiveness of remote, top-down leadership.
• Capacity to manage resources.
• It's a boys' club.

I was encouraged by the great list of positive reasons for wanting to serve as an Anglican and by the honesty around the questions and issues raised.

The plan is to see how much of 2. and 3. we can nut through in our time together.

A Well-Reformed Church

The thoroughness of the official reforms to the Church of England under Edward is impressive. Christopher Haigh - a revisionist historian who's not himself a fan of Protestantism and therefore has nothing much to gain by pointing all this out - says:

The Homilies taught justification by faith; the Injunctions forbade images; the Chantries Act denied the efficacy of prayers for the dead; the 1549 Prayer Book put the mass into ambiguous English; the 1550 Ordinal turned a sacramental priesthood into a preaching ministry, and for emphasis the altars were taken down; in 1552 the Church was given a Protestant liturgy, and in 1553 a Protestant theology – as Edward lay dying, the old vestments and service equipment were being confiscated from parish churches.

Sure, there's more to the story; Elizabeth's program was somewhat different to Edward's and lots has happened since the Tudors. But let's be clear, we still have essentially the same Prayer Book, the same Ordinal and the same Articles - we're very much the product of the Edwardian reforms.

Praise God for his Reformed Anglican Church!

Killing the Resurrection?

I've been reading from 'The Structure of Resurrection Belief' by Peter Carnley, former Archbishop of Perth and Primate of the Anglican Church of Australia. In it he upholds the possibility that the biblical accounts of the risen Jesus were actually 'heavenly visions' and he refuses to affirm the classic view of Jesus' bodily resurrection. It appears to me that Carnley believes in some sort of resurrection, but while he helpfully pushes past simplistic 'back to how he was before he died' thinking and points to the transformation that Paul speaks of in 1 Cor 15, he seems reluctant to own the fact of there being a real physical dimension to Jesus' resurrection (though I have to admit to not having read the entire book at this stage so perhaps he does somewhere).

Carnley's work has been discredited - not least by N.T. Wright who takes him to task in the opening of the magisterial 'Resurrection of the Son of God' - and its easy to point at places where has a low view of the authority of Scripture (and of the Bible writers themselves, eg. Luke inventing more material resurrection appearances so as to put himself a step above Paul). But on top of all this, its so sad that while he seems well-intentioned in much of what he writes, when it comes to discussing the beliefs of 'conservatives' in the church, he becomes more prickly such that its not just his views, but also his tone that is disappointing. (His more recent Reflections in Glass: Trends and Tensions in the Contemporary Anglican Church, is just plain tedious in its now standard liberal caricaturing of 'Sydney Anglicans'.)

Not only does he fail to promote orthodox, historical Christian teaching (what is 'progressive orthodoxy' anyway?), but by making his ambiguous views public, Carnley also makes it more difficult for members of local Anglican churches to give a plain account of their hope to any inquiring family members, friends, neighbours and colleagues. Believers are already perceived as fools in the eyes of the world for the straightforward proclamation of Christ crucified and risen. That perception is only compounded when their own church leaders won't promote the message with them!

But Carnley has retired now and I don't think the current Archbishop of Perth nor the current Primate have views akin to his.

Who Does What 3 - Deacons

Unlike bishops and priests, there are no specific tasks for deacons, although they are often thought of as having ministries that focus on serving the poor and marginalised or those at the fringe of the church. In the Anglican world, deacons can't do the 'ABC' of absolution, blessing and communion and therefore can't be appointed as parish vicars / rectors. While this could be seen as a limitation, it's better thought of as a freedom to stay focussed on other front-line ministries.

The go-to New Testament passages on deacons show us that they were first formally appointed to take on the work of food distribution so that the apostles could focus their energies on word ministries and prayer (Acts 6:1-6). And even though their task was very practical, it was imperative that those chosen had Spirit-shaped character (Acts 6:3, cf. 1 Timothy 3:8-13). But of course, as the story unfolds in Acts, we find that at least two of the deacons become powerful testifiers to the gospel of Jesus (Acts 7-8, 21:8), so there ends up being some significant overlap of their work and the apostles'. This is comparable to the overlap between the work of Anglican deacons and priests.

As I keep thinking about the diaconate, my question is, Why don't Anglicans ordain more people who work in churches as deacons? Here in Melbourne, we have many non-ordained church workers who are licensed by the Archbishop as 'Authorised Lay Ministers'. Why not make them deacons?

Reasons might include that some Anglicans believe that a person needs to be 'called' to ordained ministry and that when they are ordained, they are 'ontologically' changed. Therefore, ordination is more than just functional and more than just a practical recognition of the work someone does in a church. I'm not sure that I find this a particularly convincing argument. On the one hand, there's not much solid biblical evidence for it and on the other, it would seem strange to have lower expectations of an Authorised Lay Minister than a deacon if they were doing the same job.

Recruitment and training have become practical distinctions. That is, while the vicar of a local church can employ anyone they see fit, a deacon needs to have been through a diocese's program of formation. Perhaps this means that a deacon's suitability to their role is more broadly recognised than a lay minister's.

In the Diocese of Melbourne, there are very few distinctive deacons (as opposed to 'transitional' deacons who are moving towards becoming priests). By comparison, Sydney Diocese, with its more functional view of ministry, has been proactively reviving its diaconate over the past few years and so has a few more. Interestingly, these dioceses also have different stances on the ordination of women to the priesthood and this may affect their relative numbers of deacons. Melbourne accepts female priests and Sydney doesn't so in Sydney, all ordained women are deacons.

This leads to another good point to make when thinking about deacons which is that all clergy are deacons. That is to say that when a deacon is ordained priest, they don't stop being a deacon. I think this is great because it reminds the clergy that no matter how high up the organisational chart they might climb, they must always remain servants of others. Right in line with Jesus' teaching in Mark 10:35-45.

Who Does What 1 - Bishops

Spinning off from the earlier posts on competence, I thought it would be worth putting up a couple of posts considering how the Anglican Church understands the roles of different people within it. No doubt, this will be far from exhaustive and there will be lots of alternative perspectives out there, but let's see how we go...

So, bishops.

The Anglican Church believes the Bible teaches that there are three layers of church leadership: bishops, priests and deacons (= episkopoi, presbyteroi, diakonoi in the original Greek of the New Testament). This is disputed by some who think that that episkopoi and presbyteroi are two words for people in the same roles.

Bishops then sit at the top of the hierarchy of ordained people and have oversight of the parish churches and clergy of a given region called a diocese, which itself has a central diocesan church - the cathedral. Large dioceses can have several bishops although the archbishop is the one who holds final authority while the others are his assistant (or, depending on the particular diocese, coadjutor or suffragan) bishops.

Bishops' functions are mostly ceremonial and administrative. Although some take on the 'pastor of pastors' role, many clergy now have mentors who are not part of the formal structure of the church. And because bishops don't have direct congregational oversight or hold a regular pulpit, I've heard it suggested (by someone who I think holds more to the idea of a two-fold order of leadership) that Anglican bishops should really be re-designated as deacons.

Getting beyond structures and definitions however, the most important parts of a bishop's role are the making, hiring and firing of clergy and the upholding of doctrinal standards. In the Anglican Church, a lay person cannot be made a deacon, nor a deacon a priest, apart from a bishop's ordination. Three bishops are required to consecrate a priest as a bishop. No clergyperson can have an active Anglican ministry in a diocese without being granted a licence by its bishop or archbishop. So, while the average punter may not ever receive much teaching or pastoral care from their diocesan bishop (they could actually probably go along happily for quite a long time without ever seeing them or even knowing their name!), nonetheless, their bishop has an enormously large impact on the local church through the clergy that they licence to serve there.

Biblically, we might say that Titus is an example of someone with this bishop's role of appointing leaders for a region and guarding doctrine. He was instructed by Paul to "appoint leaders in every town" (Titus 1:5) and to choose people who would, among other things, "be able to both preach with sound doctrine and to refute those who contradict it" (Titus 1:9). Unlike most Anglican bishops though, we see as we read through Paul's letter that Titus also seems to have had an active pastoral ministry of his own.