During the past month, I have taken time to read through portions of the Book of Common Prayer. The almost timeless language of the BCP deeply impresses me, and Cranmer's diligence in choosing the words and carefully crafting the phrasing of the Prayer Book does not allow the reader to take these things lightly.

One part of the BCP that struck me was the charge given by the bishop to priests upon their ordination. This charge contains some of the most challenging words I have read as I prepare to begin my service as a minister of the church. It is taken from the 1662 edition:

You have heard, brethren, as well in your private examination, as in the exhortation which was now made to you, and in the holy Lessons taken out of the Gospel (Matthew 9:36-38, John 10:1-16) and the writings of the Apostles (Ephesians 4:7-13), of what dignity and of how great importance this office is, whereunto ye are called. And now again we exhort you, in the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you have in remembrance, into how high a dignity, and to how weighty an office and charge ye are called: that is to say, to be messengers, watchmen, and stewards of the Lord; to teach and to premonish, to feed and to provide for the Lord's family; to seek for Christ's sheep that are dispersed abroad, and for his children who are in the midst of this naughty world, that they may be saved through Christ for ever.

Have always therefore printed in your remembrance, how great a treasure is committed to your charge. For they are the sheep of Christ, which he bought with his death, and for whom he shed his blood. The Church and Congregation whom you must serve, is his spouse and his body. And if it shall happen the same Church, or any member thereof, to take any hurt or hindrance by reason of your negligence, ye know the greatness of the fault, and also the horrible punishment that will ensue. Wherefore consider with yourselves the end of your ministry towards the children of God, towards the spouse and body of Christ; and see that you never cease in your labour, your care and diligence, until you have done all that lieth in you, according to your bounden duty, to bring all such as are or shall be committed to your charge, unto that agreement in the faith and knowledge of God, and to that ripeness and perfectness of age in Christ, that there be no place left among you, either for error in religion, or for viciousness in life.

Forasmuch then as your office is both of so great excellency and of so great difficulty, ye see with how great care and study ye ought to apply yourselves, as well that ye may shew yourselves dutiful and thankful unto the Lord, who hath placed you in so high a dignity; as also to beware that neither you yourselves offend, nor be occasion that others offend. Howbeit, ye cannot have a mind and will thereto of yourselves; for that will and ability is given of God alone. Therefore ye ought, and have need, to pray earnestly for his Holy Spirit. And seeing that you cannot by any other means compass the doing of so weighty a work, pertaining to the salvation of man, but with doctrine and exhortation taken out of the holy Scriptures, and with a life agreeable to the same; consider how studious ye ought to be in reading and learning the Scriptures, and in framing the manners both of yourselves, and of them that specially pertain unto you, according to the rule of the same Scriptures; and for this self-same cause, how ye ought to forsake and set aside (as much as you may) all worldly cares and studies.

We have good hope that you have well weighed and pondered these things with yourselves long before this time; and that you have clearly determined, by God's grace, to give yourselves wholly to this office, whereunto it hath pleased God to call you: so that, as much as lieth in you, you will apply yourselves wholly to this one thing, and draw all your cares and studies this way; and that you will continually pray to God the Father, by the mediation of our only Saviour Jesus Christ, for the heavenly assistance of the Holy Ghost; that, by daily reading and weighing of the Scriptures, ye may wax riper and stronger in your ministry; and that ye may so endeavour yourselves from time to time to sanctify the lives of you and yours, and to fashion them after the rule and doctrine of Christ, that ye may be wholesome and godly examples and patterns for the people to follow.

And now, that this present Congregation of Christ here assembled may also understand your minds and will in these things, and that this your promise may the more move you to do your duties, ye shall answer plainly to these things, which we, in the Name of God, and of his Church, shall demand of you touching the same.

At this point, the bishop would ask a series of questions based on the charge given to the ordinands. There were two things I realised after reading this. The first was simply the weight of this charge—it almost left me trembling as I read it. The second was that it would be impossible to answer the questions that follow unless you had a deep conviction of the grace of God and of His call to serve his church, for in no way could you affirm the charge unless you were entirely reliant on God and the power of his Spirit. That kind of understanding is a good way to start your ministry.

Since I was just chipping away at the book one essay at a time, it took me a while to finally finish Knots Untied, the collection of essays by J.C. Ryle that I have been reading and commenting on here in the last several weeks. In an essay on the Lord's Supper, Ryle raises the question of what is to function as the primary element of worship. Some Protestants, particularly evangelicals, have a tendency to elevate the preaching of the Word as the primary element, sandwiched between a few songs. In some cases, the preaching and the music occupy such a place that almost everything else becomes unimportant and worship loses its character altogether.

Anglicanism, the context in which Ryle is writing, tends in two directions (at least among those who hold convictions about such things): Anglo-Catholics tend to view the Eucharist as the pinnacle of worship, while evangelicals align themselves with the Reformed perspective, which takes the preaching of Scripture as primary. Ryle's essay, written from an evangelical perspective, attempts to demonstrate that the Anglo-Catholic position is unwarranted. He comments:

Like the ark of God in the Old Testament, this blessed sacrament has a proper position and rank among Christian ordinances, and, like the ark of God, it may easily be put in the wrong one. The history of that ark will readily recur to our minds. Put in the place of God, and treated like an idol, it did the Israelites no good at all... Treated with reverence and respect, it brought a blessing... It is even so with the Lord's Supper.—Placed in its right position, it is an ordinance full of blessing. The great question to be settled is,—What is that position?

...The Lord's Supper is not in its right place, when it is made the first, foremost, principle, and most important thing in Christian worship. That it is so in many quarters, we all must know... The sermon, the mode of conducting prayer, the reading of 'holy Scripture,' in many churches are made second to this one thing,—the administration of the Lord's Supper.—We may ask, 'What warrant of Scripture is there for this extravagant honour?' but we shall get no answer... To thrust the Lord's Supper forward, till it towers over and overrides everything else in religion, is giving it a position for which there is no authority in God's Word.

If you are looking to Scripture for evidence, as Ryle suggests, it is hard to miss the prominent place that the preaching of the Word holds in the ministry to which Christ calls his people. Ryle notes further on that the New Testament speaks with relative infrequency about the Supper in comparison with how often it speaks of and gives examples of the verbal presentations of the gospel. Looking to Luke and Acts, for example, it is time and time again the proclamation of the gospel that brings people to repentance and faith. Even in Jesus' own ministry, his making known the presence of the Kingdom through miracles and healings was always secondary to his announcements that the Kingdom of God was at hand.

The focus of Ryle's essay, as I mentioned above, is merely to demonstrate that the Lord's Supper should not hold the place it does in high church Anglicanism. However, he does not end up sharing his thoughts on its place and significance. This is unfortunate because the tendency in evangelicalism is to go too far in reacting to the excesses of those they deem to be making an idol of the sacrament, and they in turn undermine its value and partake of it far too infrequently. Would Ryle align himself with John Calvin, who rightly stressed that the Supper should always accompany the preaching of the Word because it is a visible representation of the gospel?

It is important to remember that Jesus' institution of the Supper before his death and resurrection is of enormous significance for the church. Too often evangelicals forget this an adopt a view of the Supper that reduces it to a mere memorial. The invitation to the table is an invitation to enter into intimate communion with Christ. It is an invitation to "taste and see that the Lord is good" (Ps. 34:8). It is an invitation to be united with Christ by physically partaking of the elements. It is an invitation to have a foretaste of the coming marriage supper of the Lamb (Rev. 19:6-10). It is an invitation to receive—not just to remember—his grace.

Melvin Tinker, the vicar of St John Newland in the city of Hull, and the chairman of the steering committee of the Yorkshire Gospel Partnership, was kind enough to send me an article a few weeks ago that he wrote with Peter Sanlon on ecclesiology (later: I found out that this article was originally published in the Church Society's journal, Churchman 123:4 [Winter, 2009]). Coming from an evangelical Anglican perspective, the article addresses a number of concerns that those within that context of Anglicanism have to deal with, such as the accusations of having a weak or entirely lacking ecclesiology that might come from those within Anglo-Catholic churches or the disaffection of those who have left evangelical churches pursuing riches elsewhere.

With some biblical exegesis and a very helpful section on the posture we need to maintain when discussing ecclesiology, the article is both challenging and encouraging. In the coming week or so I will post some of the other pieces of the article I found interesting.

To begin with, I want to highlight Melvin and Peter's discussion of family heritage. All church traditions have a heritage, be it one that spans centuries, or one that spans a few decades, and we all owe something to that heritage. I cannot speak for the UK, but I have noticed two dominant trajectories with respect to the way North American churches deal with their heritage: to varying degrees, they either entirely ignore it, or they idolise it. Melvin and Peter's insights on this point provide a very balanced perspective. They write,

Our family heritage, like any family, is far from perfect. If the reformers' teaching can be shown to be inadequate at points; not being entirely consistent with Scripture, then we are being most true to the reformers when we depart from them and draw closer to the teaching of the Bible. This is because the reformers were animated by the same heartbeat as modern evangelicals are—Scripture.

In the final analysis, our family heritage is to form us but not control us. Nobody appreciates an overbearing parent determined to mechanistically dictate every detail of their child's life. The reformers themselves never would have wanted their latter-day descendents to look to them for that sort of instruction. Rather they would have desired us to accept them as flawed, frail and imperfect family, who lived with the same passion that ought to enliven us. They are most respected when the heritage of active reformation and revival is pursued in ways that respectfully grow and develop from their firm foundation.

...the heritage of our earlier reformation family, by their divergences and growth, should stimulate us to further reflection and self-critique. If we only listen to the teachers who are alive today, with whom we agree, then we are consigning ourselves to only learn from leaders alive at a stage of church history when Western Christianity can hardly be argued to be in anything other than a weak, sorry state. Our family heritage in the reformers is rich and varied. Their acumen, scriptural insight and desire to spread the Gospel...should act as a real stimulus to our own growth and maturity. [But] we ought not to freeze any leader or period of history and simply try to repeat that. Engaging with the reformation writings earnestly would prevent us from doing so, for...the reformers were animated by the same heartbeat of scripture, but displayed considerable growth and difference.

A perspective like this avoids the extremes on either end of the spectrum. One side holds to the idea that there must be continual innovation and change in order to maintain relevance, and in this way, declares everything old to be obsolete and no longer useful. This can involve rather creative uses of scripture which downplay its authority. The other side pays too strict of an allegiance to heritage and tradition and can neglect to continually evaluate its scriptural validity which, in a different way, also downplays the authority of Scripture. Often, this is symptomatic of the sort of 'golden age' view of history that the article speaks of. This is not to vilify either side; indeed, the perspective Melvin and Peter put forth acknowledges there is much good in both, and that together they give us a balanced middle ground.

Heritage is important, and we ought not to neglect it. But likewise must we not elevate it to a level in which it begins to encroach on the authority if Scripture. The reformers recognised this; they did not intend for us to make carbon copies of themselves, but instead set an example for us to follow. Indeed, they confessed Ecclesia semper reformanda. May their spirit continue to inspire us.

The General Synod of the Church of England took place this past week in London. I mentioned it earlier this week, referencing particularly the debate that was to occur regarding the Church of England's relationship with the Anglican Church in North America, since that was the most interesting item on the agenda for me. Below is the video recording of Lorna Ashworth presenting her Private Member's Motion. You can also watch the debate that followed (part 1, part 2).

Also of interest was the address by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. He addressed the idea of human freedom and emphasized the need to listen and learn from each other.

If you refer to my earlier post, I provided a variety of links with more reading on Synod. Those sites now have their post-Synod thoughts online, offering a variety of viewpoints on what transpired. Also, you can find the official press release from the ACNA online here.

Somewhat to even my surprise, I have taken quite a bit of interest in the General Synod of the Church of England this year. In the last few weeks I heard that there is to be a discussion surrounding the Anglican Church in North America (ACNA) and whether or not the Church of England should enter into communion with that body. A number of students and staff here at RTS attend or are on staff with churches joined with the ACNA, and so I have had the opportunity to become more familiar with it over the past few years. I have been reading different things around the internet to try and get some perspective on the issue, but there is a lot of material to work through.

The woman who initially raised what is called a "private member's motion," Lorna Ashworth, published a document highlighting a number of what she calls injustices done by the Episcopal Church in the US against various bishops and clergy, including the deposition of men like J.I. Packer. She writes, "It is my desire to give Synod an opportunity to hear about the unfair treatment of people who have continued to maintain the Anglican faith in doctrine, practice and worship, and to express their continuing fellowship with them as loyal Anglicans." Expressed at the beginning of the motion is her desire to see the Church of England to enter into communion with the ACNA, the proposal of which will be discussed by the Synod on this coming Wednesday.

What makes this interesting is that, technically speaking, the ACNA is a schismatic body. Ashworth states that a number of bishops and clergy had been deposed from the Anglican Communion, but many others have voluntarily withdrawn and together formed the new organization. What would be the implications of the Church of England were to enter into communion with the ACNA? What does such a move convey?

It is no secret that the Anglican Communion worldwide is in trouble; it has been in such a state for quite some time now, as the GAFCON conference in 2008 brought to the forefront in a very visible way. Many conservative bodies around the world (such as the ACNA) demonstrated their difficulties with the pervasive liberalism in the Anglican Communion and its departure from general biblical teaching. So if the Church of England were to enter into communion with one of these conservative bodies, is that an indication of perhaps a new direction in the Anglican Communion? I know it is very premature to be talking about something like that, but it must be on a few people's minds, right? Then again, I may be totally off the mark.

For more information, be sure to visit the General Synod Blog. You can also check out Thinking Anglicans, who are regularly posting other documents and links to discussions on the matter, as well as the Church Mouse Blog. Additionally, many clergy and bishops can be found on Twitter via the lists compiled on the Twurch of England account, and they are using the hashtag #synod to keep track of what's going this week.

In my spare time—well, actually when I should doing schoolwork—I have been reading some on the history of Anglicanism. Having known very little about the tradition, I wanted to get a better picture of its roots. It was only recently that I learned of the great influence some of the continental Reformers had on Anglicanism during its most formative time, like Peter Martyr Vermigli and Martin Bucer, who both spent many years there, and John Calvin, whose influence spread through his writings.

The most notable Reformer in the English tradition is Thomas Cranmer. Church history classes I have taken in the past have touched on his life and work, but my knowledge of him was rather limited. One of the books I have been reading is Stephen Neill's 1958 study, simply called Anglicanism. Early on, discussing Cranmer's influence in the English Reformation, he writes the following:

It is to be noted that Cranmer, like the other Reformers, had fallen in love with the Bible. But his love took a particular form. He believed that the Bible was the living word of God to every man, and that it comes with the greatest power when unaccompanied by any human gloss, comment, or exposition. He was convinced that, if his fellow countrymen could be induced to read the word of God, or, if illiterate, to hear it read, it would in course of time make its way into their hearts and consciences.

Neill writes that the composition of the Book of Common Prayer was, without measure, the most significant contribution Cranmer made to the Church in the Reformation era. Whereas the genius of men like Calvin lay in their theological contributions, for Cranmer it was formulating a liturgy saturated with Scripture. Neill continues:

It was only in the next reign [of Edward VI] that Cranmer was able to provide his Church with a lectionary; when he was able to do so, he made the Church of England in a day the greatest Bible-reading Church in the world. In no other Church anywhere is the Bible read in public worship so regularly, with such order, and at such length, as in the Anglican fellowship of Churches. In making such provision, Cranmer was laying heavy demands on his Englishmen, and reposing great confidence in them. But in that too he was the typical Anglican—Anglicanism is a form of the Christian faith that demands and expects a great deal from ordinary people.

In those churches which still use the Book of Common Prayer, Cranmer's influence lives on. It is quite something to worship with an Anglican congregation and see how Scripture saturates the liturgy, and to know that this was the work of Cranmer himself. I find it quite significant that Neill sees the Anglican tradition defined by its worship, as opposed to a tradition like my own, which is characterized much more by its theology.

And so Neill writes, "We have no English Luther or Calvin...[instead] we have as our chief reformer the man who had a greater genius for liturgical worship than any other of whom we have record in the whole history of the Church."

I grew up (and largely remain in, as this is characteristic of large swathes of evangelicalism) a tradition that placed a high value on a person's ability to pray on the spot. A sign of spiritual maturity was that you could say something unique and profound every time you prayed, even if the prayers often became tediously verbose.

Honestly, I still feel a tinge of guilt when I am fumbling for words as I pray. So the other day when I picked up N. T. Wright's recent book, Simply Christian, I felt a great deal of comfort in reading these words.

There's nothing wrong with having a form of words composed by somebody else. Indeed, there's probably something wrong with not using such a form. Some Christians, some of the time, can sustain a life of prayer entirely out of their own internal resources, just as there are hardy mountaineers (I've met one) who can walk the Scottish highlands in their bare feet. Most of us need boots; not because we don't want to do the walking ourselves, but because we do...

There is nothing wrong, nothing sub-Christian...about using words, set forms, prayers, and sequences of prayers written by other people in other centuries. Indeed, the idea that I must always find my own words, that I must generate my own devotion from scratch every morning, that unless I think of new words I must be spiritually lazy or deficient—that has the all-to-familiar sign of human pride, of 'doing it my way': of, yes, works-righteousness. Good liturgy—other people's prayers, whether for corporate or individual use—can be, should be, a sign and means of grace, an occasion of humility (accepting that someone else has said, better than I can, what I deeply want to express) and gratitude. How many times have I been grateful, faced with nightfalls both metaphorical and literal, for the old Anglican prayer which runs,

Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord;
and by thy great mercy
defend us from all perils and dangers of this night;
for the love of thy only Son,
our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Using formed prayers is relatively new to me, and at times I feel awkward trying to pray the words. The more I do it, though, the more I am learning to understand what Wright is saying here. More significantly, I'm learning to cherish the resultant intimate connection with the body of Christ that transcends space and time, and to mine the treasures of wisdom and devotion which they left us.

We attended a local Anglican church today. The church we usually attend does not typically observe the liturgical calender, with the exception of the major holidays, so it kind of slipped my mind that today was All Saints' Day (although last night being Halloween should have tipped me off). We heard the beautiful words of this collect from the Book of Common Prayer:

Almighty God, who hast knit together thine elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of Your Son, Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow Your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that thou hast prepared for those who unfeignedly love thee; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who with thee and the Holy Spirit liveth and reigneth, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

And, of course, the words of Hebrews 12:1-2 are fitting for this day as well.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

We can't forget that although the saints have come to that "ineffable joy" the collect speaks of—indeed, how could the being in the presence of God be described in any other way—that joy is not yet complete. Only when Christ returns in glory will that joy be fully complete, where we will enjoy, in the deepest sense of the word, the glory of His consummated Kingdom and the new creation. Indeed, that is the goal of this race which we run.