#3 Surprise gift from our Anglican divorce story for life beyond it

by Donald Schell

Part 3 of 3

I’ll begin this concluding essay by saying where I meant the meandering path of the two previous essays to lead. I’m thinking of our church’s divorce story, our independence from Rome, as family story. And I’m seeing something in it that I’d never noticed, in a small event in 1532, that leads me to wonder whether Episcopal Church’s 2012 reorganization should include eliminating any separate “House of Bishops” (BOTH the legislative house at General Convention and the year-in and year- out twice annual non-legislative gatherings).

What if our bishops found their primary identity, voice and purpose from listening to the people of their diocese rather than from speaking to each other?

What happened at my parents’ Thanksgiving Table in 1963 and at the Captain’s Table with Ted Cozzens on that steamer that’s harder when the whole diverse family isn’t gathered?

To be clear at the onset, let me insist, I’m making the suggestion that we restore rather than reject the ancient office of bishop. And, when we get there I’ll offer a choice anecdote from our Anglican family’s founding divorce that hints at an unfamiliar primary identity for a bishop.

So, first the divorce story and some observations of how we shape our stories –
Henry VIII needed a divorce from Katherine of Aragon to marry Anne Boleyn. When the Pope and Vatican were slow to respond, Henry decided to file for a different divorce severing the Church of England from the Catholic Church. Rome didn’t acknowledge the divorce and insisted that Henry and his church were simply living in sin. Rome’s response didn’t stop a property settlement, or at least didn’t stop us taking what we’d like. We kept our bishops and liturgy (taking the opportunity of the divorce to clean house and remodel it significantly) and we happily let them keep their Pope, clerical celibacy, purgatory, transubstantiation, and scores of problematic saints.

I hope this telling made most Episcopal readers squirm a bit. The story is more or less familiar, but that’s not the way we want it told in public. Over our last four hundred and fifty or so years of up and down communication with our Italian ex- and some custody battles over various children, and property battles over various family treasures and traditions, our critics have told the story more or less like I just did. You know those critics - theologians, cultural critics, fundamentalist neighbors, and a handful of grumpy atheists who want to tell us that our divorce wasn’t legitimate, that we’re a fake church, a believe-anything or believe-nothing outfit that practices aesthetics and manners rather than real faith. Today’s atheists tell us we’re not actually religious so not worth disputing. And our fundamentalist sisters and brothers insist that since the divorce we’ve been living in sin.

So, I think we’re actually as particular about how we tell our ecclesial divorce as any family member would be about any decisive family story.

No, we insist, it’s not like that.

We want to tell our divorce story and hear integrity and continuity. Yes, there was a divorce, but we’re a real church, and we were the same church before and after Henry VIII. In fact we needed to file for the divorce to continue Catholic Christianity in Britain. Our ancestors are honorable and we, their descendants, aren’t bastards. We’re the legitimate inheritors of rich Celtic and Benedictine traditions in the British Isles, the church of Patrick and Columba and the Venerable Bede, Dame Julian of Norwich, St. Margaret of Scotland, several important medieval theologians and philosopher-scientists, the church of Cranmer, Coverdale, Shakespeare, Dorothy Sayers, and T.S. Eliot, and so on.

Our church’s separate existence, as we usually tell the story, wasn’t born of Henry VIII’s lust and royal whim but of the principle or conscience of Catholic and Reforming Church bishops like Thomas Cranmer and Hugh Latimer, and Nicholas Ridley, and the heroic Biblical translator William Tyndale (these last all martyrs).

Recently I had a rich and satisfying conversation with a clergy colleague who, like me, knew divorce personally. My divorce was almost forty years ago, his more like six. Both of us recognized how carefully we told our stories. Partly we’re fussy about how we tell the story to protect our sense of who we were and are. But partly we want to keep learning from the divorce. We want to know we’re continuing to become more who we hoped to be and were called to be even with the divorce. Like other family stories, divorce stories shape us.

In the past couple of weeks I’ve been reading Hilary Martel’s Wolf Hall with pleasure in the novel and fresh interest in our family divorce story. So, I’m reading again about Henry VIII and Thomas Cranmer and Thomas Cromwell and Thomas More and Anne Boleyn. Mantel packed historical facts tightly into her novel, some familiar, some less so. I’m doing a lot of fact-checking and ancillary reading. Reading Martel’s novel is a painful pleasure because there our 16th century divorce story is as messy and contradictory as any family divorce story, and because I’m grateful for it’s unexpected grace. I love the church that emerged from our watershed transformation in the 16th century. And I come back to this story as I return sometimes to my long past divorce. Telling and retelling bring new discoveries. Martel has worked with recognizable and known facts and re-imagined some key characters in our story including especially Thomas Cromwell, the layman who may have contributed more than any other single person to the beginnings of the English Reformation.

Cromwell got the King’s consent to the first legal publication of England’s first English Bible. Cromwell drafted the laws that made Cranmer’s work possible. Cromwell gently guided his traditionalist Catholic except “without the Pope” monarch toward reform and change. Cromwell, with strong Lutheran sympathies managed to maintain a friendship with the King until a decade before the first English Prayer Book, Cromwell lost the King’s trust and his head.

Three hundred thirty-seven pages into her novel of Cromwell’s accomplishment, Martel offers this startling little paragraph:

“On May 15, the bishops sign a document of submission to the king. They will not make new church legislation without the king’s license, and will submit all existing law to a review by a commission which will include laymen – members of Parliament and the king’s appointees. They will not meet in Convocation without the king’s permission.”

The year was 1532, a full year before Pope Clement excommunicated Henry VIII and Archbishop Cranmer. The act of Parliament that the bishops were compelled to sign was drafted by Thomas Cromwell.

This unfamiliar bit of our family’s divorce story caught my imagination. Cromwell came up with something here that may be important to us in 2012 as our Episcopal Church thinks about re-ordering and re-organizing itself. Apart from the royalist assumptions and prerogatives that Cromwell assumed or created here, he reversed a precedent-setting initiative that the Emperor Constantine set 1200 years before when he called the Council of Nicaea. Constantine needed a unified church to bind together his quasi-Christianized Roman Empire – he proposed that a consensus of bishops could define the faith and practice of the church. The bishops had no difficulty accepting Constantine’s flattering gesture though they had a harder time agreeing about homoousios or homoiousios in the creed that they drafted.

Thomas Cromwell’s legislation and document made bishops dependent on lay people convening them and gave lay people final review over bishops’ decisions. Does Cromwell’s bold redefinition of the authority of bishops remind us that Constantine giving unprecedented ultimate authority to what bishops gathered together would say, invented a Council of Bishops? When bishops gather to deliberate and speak – not just the Roman Catholic College of Cardinals but even our own Church of England and American Episcopal House of Bishops – are they carrying on Constantine’s imperial consolidation of power?

Cromwell’s legislation surrounded bishops’ authority with lay convening and lay review. For four hundred fifty years bishops have been reclaiming their self-generated authority and autonomy. Many of them tell us that their most important conversations are in gatherings with their bishop sisters and brothers. So Cromwell has me wondering – would our bishops act more like the church bishops of the ancient church if we did away with the House of Bishops?

When Ignatius gave us his vision of the wholeness and universality of a church in the early Second Century, he summed it up with a word no Christian teacher before him had used, “Catholic,” a thing that’s seen and known in its wholeness, entire, complete.
"Wheresoever," Ignatius wrote, "the bishop appears, there let the people [laos] be, even as wheresoever Christ is, there is the Catholic Church." People gathered around their bishop are whole and the Body of Christ. Two hundred years later Constantine shifted the understanding of Catholic to an Imperial one. In seminary we had a kind of riddle about bishops in council - “If IRA terrorists blew up all the Anglican bishops gathered at Lambeth, would there still be an Anglican Communion?”

Constantine looked to consolidate and organize power. His council that got all the local bishop administrator/leaders together was meant to ADD UP TO a Catholicity that Ignatius said already existed with ONE bishop surrounded by the people. The gathered Eucharistic Assembly was Ignatius whole (KATHOLIKOS) vision of Christ.

Since Constantine, gathered bishops have spoken Episcopal authority with their common voice. From Constantine onward, the bishop and bishops have seemed to believe they’re most Episcopal when they’re speaking – pastoral letters, writing admonitions, preaching.

Here’s how our 1979 Book of Common Prayer puts it in the ordination liturgy for a bishop:

“A bishop in God's holy Church is called to be one with the apostles in proclaiming Christ's resurrection and interpreting the Gospel, and to testify to Christ's sovereignty as Lord of lords and King of kings. You are called to guard the faith, unity, and discipline of the Church; to celebrate and to provide for the administration of the sacraments of the New Covenant; to ordain priests and deacons and to join in ordaining bishops; and to be in all things a faithful pastor and wholesome example for the entire flock of Christ. With your fellow bishops you will share in the leadership of the Church throughout the world. Your heritage is the faith of patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs, and those of every generation who have looked to God in hope. Your joy will be to follow him who came, not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Book of Common Prayer, p. 517.

We call bishops to ministry and they gather to find their voice for Proclaiming, Interpreting, Testifying, and Guarding. They express their ministry in what they say and in their guardianship overseeing faith, unity, and discipline.
More often than he used the word “Catholic” Ignatius said something that has baffled commentators and been ignored by most bishops ever since - that the bishop is most a bishop when he is silent.

As Henry Chadwick wrote, “Among the many remarkable features of Ignatius’ letters there is perhaps nothing more curious than his peculiar ideas about the value attaching to silence. There is something almost comic in his insistence that when a bishop is saying nothing he is then to be regarded with special awe. It is apparently his firm conviction that the best thing a bishop can do is to refrain from speech altogether.”
Silence? Listening? Waiting? Presence in listening silence reminds me of Jesus in John 8 writing silently in the sand when the religious leaders demanded that he condemn the woman taken in adultery. Or as Ignatius says,

“He who really possess Jesus’ word is able to hear his silence in order that he may be perfect, so that he may act through his words and may be known through his silences.”

Part 2

Part 1

The Rev. Donald Schell, founder of St. Gregory of Nyssa Church in San Francisco, is President of All Saints Company.

Comments (10)

Hi Don,

A fascinating series. As always, you encourage us to think about what many might see as just "givens." For me, though, the episcopate is not just a "given." I grew up in the Baptist tradition, mostly of the Southern variety. We had no bishops. Each congregation was the final authority unto itself. So, I will admit that the episcopacy remains more of an intellectual construct for me than something "in my bones." That will take a few more years at the least.

Having said that, though, I saw a real disadvantage to the congregational polity of the Baptist tradition. It often led to a lot of splintering. Granted, we've had our fair share of splintering in the Episcopal Church lately, but not at all to the scale often experienced in my previous tradition.

So, for me, I appreciate the episcopacy as a sign of unity - the unity of our diocese and the unity among dioceses as expressed when the bishops come together in council. I think this visible, embodied sign of unity is extremely important for the Church today. And, I hope, that embodied sign of unity will be one that listens well. I'm grateful for a bishop with that particular gift among others.

But the listening to which you refer does not only occur at the local level in one's diocese. It also needs to occur at the catholic level, i.e. among dioceses and among provinces. For that reason, I believe our current bicameral system provides an important set of checks and balances. The House of Deputies emphasizes the local point of view, and, I hope, the House of Bishops emphasizes the catholic point of view. So, I would not want to see that basic structure change.

However, could other tweaks occur that would allow for better communication at General Convention? Indubitably. I have yet to attend General Convention, but I understand the Houses meet separately. Why not meet together? Then more direct communication could occur. Also, I am sure there are tweaks that could happen on the committee-level (where the real work of any legislation gets done) as well.

So, I believe your emphasis upon listening is absolutely essential. It is a quality for which all of our bishops should strive as well as the rest of us! But that listening needs to be not only local but catholic and that is a gift our bishops provide us that is immeasurable!

In Christ,
Shawn Strout
Diocese of Washington (DC)

Lots of text in these three posts, Father Schell. I will just focus on this sentence: "What if our bishops found their primary identity, voice and purpose from listening to the people of their diocese rather than from speaking to each other?"

First, is this right? Every bishop I've known has been keenly focused first of all on their flock, of which he or she is the chief pastor. Second, I can't conceive of an Episcopal or Anglican ecclesiology in which bishops don't speak to each other, being the bridge between local church and church catholic. It's a conciliar ideal that goes way, way back.

Shawn and Chris,

Both of your responses take "catholic" to mean "universal" or "global," and part of what interests me is that Ignatius, the first person who uses the word of the church, is using it to describe the "wholeness" of the local congregation gathered around the bishop.

I'm wondering if inherited habits of Roman thinking shaped the administrative sense of "Catholicism" for Christianity as it was proclaimed and eventually administered from Rome. The effort to standardize liturgy and practice to Roman norms comes pretty early. In a recent piece in Worship magazine Nathan Mitchel argued that St. Patrick, in bringing Romanized Christianity to Christian Celts was contributing to the suppression of a much less authoritative, more sacramentally ordered and local Celtic understanding and practice of bishop.

And the angry and shocked assertion that more episcopal voices makes us more Catholic and Important episcopal voices even more so was what the American Episcopal church was facing from the Anglican primates meeting over our churchwide affirmation of New Hampshire's election of Gene Robinson.

Is the RC College of Bishop's attempt to rein in the Roman Catholic sisters conciliar because it's a group of bishops?

My first patristics teacher (a student of Georges Florovsky and himself Orthodox) used to argue that the ecumenical councils were only midpoints in extended theological controversies. Something raised and discoverd in local teaching or prayer raised a question that the imperial order decided needed a resolution. Bishops gathered and wrote a decision or definition. Then time and the voice of popular piety decided whether to embrace the decision, so councils called in the same way and with the same number of legitimate bishops might be remembered as councils of anti-councils, their decisions the opposite of what we want to claim as conciliar theology. For the first seven or eight centuries, despite imperial sanction and attempts to seek tidy resolution, the fact the "the bishops have spoken" didn't carry weight until the church's broad consensus confirmed what they'd said.

Chris,

To your question of experience, my experience doesn't match yours, at least some of the time. Sometimes our bishops are remarkable and patient listeners, but sometimes at least some of them seem to find their clearest authority when the listen to other bishops and speak to their dioceses.

So, when you write, "Every bishop I've known has been keenly focused first of all on their flock, of which he or she is the chief pastor," I'd say that's not my experience.

I think of is the times I've heard bishops say of themselves or with frustration of other bishops, "you have to remember the conversation between sessions in the House of Bishops. When we gather we feel answerable to each other and to the House."

Of course bishops will talk to each other, and they have good reason to, but is the House of Bishops really a clergy peer group for bishops? Rome, the Anglican Primates, and too often over the past years Archbishop Rowan Williams seem to think that bishops' voices make an opinion catholic and that something can't be authentically catholic unless enough bishops (and the right bishops) have assented to it.

In our Episcopal polity, I find an interesting comparison between Senate and House of Representatives, House of Lords and House of Commons in the U.K., and the House of Bishops and House of Deputies for our church.

Lords and Bishops are both lifetime membership groups. And while U.S. Senators have a term, it's three times as long as a congressperson's and their constituency is an institutional and geographic unit rather than people - the senate is an "upper house" where it's not "one person, one vote."

How do upper and lower house and questions of where leaders find their identity apply to church structure? The permanent members of the House of Bishops meet twice a year while elected deputies serve a term in the House of Deputies and then only return if they're reelected. The structure suggests that their legitimacy comes from the people who elect and send them. And whose are the bishops?

Ask bishops if they belong to the diocese or to the House of Bishops? And do bishops (and the rest of us) understand "my diocese" suggests possession when a bishop speaks it and belonging when a clergy or layperson does?

Am I right in thinking that among Eastern Churches, there's not really a diocese like we would see it, but rather there is a bishop in a city - hence Metropolitans everywhere - and that priests put themselves under the jurisdiction aka "omophoron" (pallium) of the usually - but not always - nearest bishop? Thus they are structured rather like a circle around a point rather than a garden in a boundary? Isn't the ECLA structured somewhere in between? Just wanting to clarify alternate ways of gathering and leadership before jumping into a conversation.

Clint, I don't know the answer to this really useful question, but do imagine a "diocese" like "Brooklyn and all the Aleutian Islands" would have to work something like you're describing. I really like your images of a circle gathered around a point and a garden within a boundary. I hope other readers may offer what they know of Orthodox practice (especially in the U.S. where the multiply-missioned, ethnic and post-ethnic autocephalous churches seem to require relationship thinking to sort out creative interdependence, accountability, and effective bonds of affection.

Clint, I was also thinking this morning of ways we've combined pyramidal organizational charts with our understanding of hierarchy, and how the metaphor of "top down" emerges from that. Intriguingly two of the images Jesus offers in the Gospels have a different geometry - Vine and branches is bottom up and shepherd is horizontal and the geometric question of when the shepherd moves ahead of the flock (traveling) and when the shepherd takes the position behind the flock (at the gate of the sheepfold).

Donald, my apologies for being such a slow thinker - this comment arrives after Episcopal Cafe has already archived your post. I am spending two days a week in pulmonary rehab and two days a week recovering from it, which means that everything else has to fit into three days, one of which is Sunday. [sigh]

I so agree with your observation that ++Rowan has knocked our idea of episcopacy all caterwhompus. It floors me that the whole Communion was invited by the Crown Nominations Committee to comment on what we hoped for in the next ABC. I am afraid that I responded that I hope for an Archbishop who can tend the Church of England and not try to be a global Anglican power broker. I know that sounds harsh, but I find I am still am cranky about his attempts to shepherd the Episcopal Church.

In your consulting the older relatives around the Thanksgiving table, I hope you won't forget to check in with Uncle Richard, since Volume VII of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Piety addresses the episcopacy. I find that, regrettably, I'm not wise enough to tell you what Hooker says - but, thanks be to God, you could call up Steve McGrade, whose volumes on Uncle Richard are benchmarks for our generation, and ask him. McGrade even has an article on Hooker and the episcopacy, but it's behind a steep paywall I decided not to climb.

Thanks for the thinking and writing you are doing -

Pamela Grenfell Smith
Bloomington, Indiana

Pamela,

I welcome your suggest I invite Steve McGrade to deepen my acquaintance with Uncle Richard Hooker, whom, I will confess, I don't know nearly as well as I should. I'd might even climb the steep paywall if you'll send me a link.

And I appreciate your hunch and discernment that inviting global Anglicans to comment on who we'd like to have as the next Archbishop requires a bit of an ironic response - someone who's not too invested in being "our" Archbishop, as though we lacked proper episcopacy on this side of the Atlantic.

I got two interesting responses from retired bishops. I'm waiting permission to repost one, but now can pass on (with his permission) this from Joe Doss -

"I often think that the singular, vital, role of the bishop can be grasped in breaking down the Greek term for the office this way: "epi-scoper". The episcopal office is for "epi-scoping", looking over the whole all the way back through time and space to make that whole present and employed in the here and now.

The two parts of the term are ordinarily put together in English as "overseer". But for us this is a term that has already been taken and used in other contexts. That common usage leads us to hear the term in a way that is unfortunately narrowed and focused, something having to do with authority and the responsibility for getting things done by getting others to do their part, sort of like "big boss" or "institutional leader of the member parts". In the era of American slavery it even was the term used for the boss "over-seeing" the work of the slaves.

I like to think "epi-scoper" should carry more the sense of the one who is to look over the whole to make sure everyone is given a vision of, remains faithful to, and participates in the whole of a diocese and in the whole that goes back to the apostles and moves over and around the globe.

If the bishops fulfill this role in council, they will be valuable indeed. The question is how to fulfill it best, as a house or together in one chamber with representatives of laity, presbyters, and deacons -- or a combination to be used at different times for different purposes. What is not helpful is the role of trying to be the authoritative arbiter of what should be decided."

Joe (Doss)
(re-posted with permission)

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