From: Religious Context 16th Century
Bible Translation Return to Home
By Roland H. Worth, Jr. © 2016
Chapter Seven:
Anglicanism:
The Middle-of-the-Road
Official Orthodoxy
Henry’s reformation is often
pictured as imposed from above. Although
there is much truth in this portrayal, it can easily lead to the
misapprehension that it was imposed upon a sullen and resentful population that
virtually had to be coerced to abandon its deeply preferred traditional
Catholicism.[1]
In one sense England was the most centralized country in all of Europe.[2] It must be remembered that this is a comparison
rather than an absolute. It was far from
a police state or anything close to it in the modern sense. Henry’s government lacked both the naked
power and administrative skill to unilaterally impose a new religious system on
the kingdom. He did not even have the
fundamental prerequisite of a standing army.[3]
Furthermore, royal decisions on
religious matters could be bent, “interpreted,” “misunderstood,” undermined, or
even quietly ignored on the local basis unless the king (or his agents) kept
applying constant pressure. And even
then, there was the recognition that there was a danger level beyond which
prudence required even a egomaniac such as the later Henry to proceed with
caution rather than a root-and-branch removal of all religious foes.
This is not to deny that most did
prefer the traditional faith, but they also--simultaneously--had an agenda of
grievances about the church and the hierarchy that could be appealed to
neutralize much of their sympathy.
Especially when support for the king was depicted in terms of patriotism
and the religious changes as anti-papal rather than anti-Catholicism. Stir in a healthy dose of resentment at
foreign “meddling” in these “internal” affairs of England and one had a potent
mixture that could be used to undermine the existing religious order.
Such appeals not only crossed
geographic and class lines, it also breached the clerical-lay barrier as
well. It was easy for the clergy to
justify (rationalize, if you disagreed with them) their decision to support
Henry’s organizational secession from international Catholicism: As nationalist-minded themselves, many had
deep suspicion of papal claims that seemed to undermine the rights and
prerogatives of their homeland. They
might not lead the crusade, but they were willing to follow in its wake as part
of their duty to preserve the unity of the kingdom.[4]
Furthermore, the clergy was divided
between the traditionalist, content with things the way they “always” had been
and the “reformer,” convinced that a number of beliefs and/or practices had to
be rectified to make the church what it should be. The traditionalist cause was weakened by the
tension between religious preference and regal obligations. They accepted the king’s changes--but
grudgingly and with as many reservations as they could obtain,[5]
thereby holding on to as much of past practice as feasible but annoying the
monarch in the process.
In contrast, the theological
reformers within the English church tended to be vigorous supporters of regal
intervention. The problem with them was
not that they lacked enthusiasm but that, if anything, they had so much
enthusiasm that they wished to go further than the king desired. In the emotional balancing act between these
two approaches, the king naturally inclined toward those who supported him the
strongest. It did not guarantee their
success but it increased the probability of it.
Perhaps one overlooked reason for
Henry’s success lies in the fact that he rarely demanded policies that the
power brokers and local populace deeply resented. Even when that barrier was crossed and local
obstruction could not hinder the changes, Henry’s repeated reversals of policy
held out hope that the objectionable matters might one day be removed.
In regard to church organizational
practices and even certain of the ritual, this approach could be justified by
the theory of adiaphora (“things
indifferent”). Such things might be
personally preferred. They might even be
desirable. But they were not
essential and therefore the line into sin had not been crossed.
Using such reasoning, a major
organizational shift (the break with Rome) and major changes in practice (the
abolishment of monasteries and alteration of holy and fast days) could be
considered as acceptable functions of the monarchy since the alterations did
not involve anything inherently sinful.
Furthermore, in cases of perceived excesses, they could even be regarded
as “purifications” rather than repudiations.
This was in contrast to matters such as salvation by faith alone, where
the repudiation went not just to outward forms but to core beliefs.[6]
Even so, there was a line between
change and revolution and where that line was drawn varied from cleric to
cleric, with most settling for passive resistance when the line was reached or
breached. In contrast, when Edward VI’s government
pushed through its far more radical agenda, there could be no question that a
very real break had been made between the “old” and the “new” faiths of the
monarchy. At this point the room for
fudging the issue was removed.[7]
Protestantization of Independent
Anglican Catholicism
If the first years of Henry's break
with Rome still perpetuated Catholicism as to much of the Church’s doctrine and
practice--though under the reign of the national King substituted for the
Pope--the very breach of the traditional organizational bond compelled the
seeking of new allies and a major source of these were other enemies of
the Vatican. Not that Catholic powers
were totally unwilling to obstruct papal preferences, but this had to be done
with discretion and in a manner to minimize direct repudiation of those
ties. And when conflict did
ensue, it had to be carefully presented as anti-papal rather than anti-faith in
intent.
In
marked contrast, were the Protestant states who were in pressing need of fellow
allies to help them perpetuate their own national and religious
independence. They shared with England a
powerful mutual enemy in the papacy.
Since religion and politics were so intimately intertwined in opposing
the papal regime, this mutual need created a de facto alliance that had
inevitable religious implications: One
could hardly hermetically seal off the Kingdom to the theological beliefs of
one's political associates. Linked
together in mutual support (however token in actual practice) magnified the
acceptability of studying their spiritual tenets as well. As this was done, more and more of these
beliefs became acceptable to a growing number of English religious and
political leaders.
If political support could encourage
the evolution of similar religious sentiment, the impact could develop from the
other direction as well. For those
primarily motivated by religious concerns, the need to uphold the safety of
those with similar convictions on the European mainland encouraged an
acceptance of the political regimes that housed and sheltered them. Regardless of whether the primary motivation
was spiritual or temporal, either tended to reinforce the power of the
other: Multiple motives create far
greater fervor and determination than a single motive alone.
1536 represents the turning point
from independent Catholicism to a Protestantized
Anglicanism. The Pope's jurisdiction was
repudiated officially, but that did no more than endorse what had already
occurred. The suppression of the
monasteries eliminated one of the most prominent public manifestations of
Catholicism. Due to their large number
and (relative) decentralization, they represented potential rallying points
around which traditional Catholics might have rallied.
Although any religious institution
can be bullied into submission, it was far easier dealing with a small number
of bishops and archbishops than in the many fold larger number of abbots who
oversaw the various monasteries.
Probably they would never have emerged as centers of opposition. Their general willingness to go along with disbandonment with minimum opposition argues that the
spirit of rebellion was lacking in most of them. Even so, their closure guaranteed that even
the very potential was removed as well.
Meanwhile the hierarchy was drifting
toward Protestantization. Six bishops could already be counted in the
Reformer camp.[8] With their influence weighing into the
battle, 1536 saw the Convocation of the church adopting the Ten Articles of
Faith, with the first public steps away from the Catholic doctrine previously
embraced. Two years later (1538) came
the Injunctions to the Clergy, which accelerated this trend. These instructions by Thomas Cromwell
provided for the regular use of sermons and the teaching of the Biblical text
in the language of the land. All
religious images were to be removed.
Popular zealots utilized the latter as precedent for the physical
destruction of the images.
Thomas Cromwell fell from power in
1540. The Duke of Norfolk was the most
vigorous supporter of this removal from office.
Not coincidentally, Henry's latest wife (Catherine Howard) was the
Duke's niece. Cromwell's execution later
the same year ended the active period of change in the church; indeed, Henry
persuaded Parliament to pass the Act of Six Articles denouncing as heretical
certain of the convictions that Cromwell had held. So far as Henry went, his purposes in the
religious sphere had been obtained. But
the forces for change that he had encouraged--even created--were not subject to
full recall merely because he was now content.[9]
The critical cast of mind, willing
to modify, change, or even reject long-established religious precedent remained
alive, fermenting, brewing (among many) the desire for yet more radical
alterations. In a Christmas 1545 address
to Parliament Henry expressed annoyance that the Bible was "disputed
rhymed, sung and jangled in every ale-house and tavern."[10] He simply could not control it.
His successful spiritual insurrection had created a new set of
beginning assumptions that would breed on-going Puritan-style efforts to change
the modified Catholicism that had been created.
When that ultimately failed under Elizabeth, many advocates of that persuasion
were willing to go full throttle into complete religious independence from the
new established order.
Even Henry seemed to contemplate the
possibility of bringing his own public posture more in accord with the emerging
consensus that was moving yet further from traditional Roman doctrine. One sign was his designation of three Reform
advocates to educate his son Edward.[11] Another was his decision to appoint as
official Protectors of the boy two adherents to Reform.[12] Likewise the modest size council he appointed
to exercise power while Edward remained in his minority was controlled by
Reform sympathizers.[13]
In the months before his death he was even considering a massive change
in the nature of the church's memorial of Jesus' death: no longer would it be a Mass; it would be a
Communion.[14] Temporary aberration, sincere change, or a
calculated ploy to see what the reaction would be? With Henry any of these was possible. But he died too soon for anyone to know for
sure.
When anti-papalism
began to result in major changes in actual faith and practice, pivotal
compromises had already been made by the resident religious hierarchy. Those opposed to further alterations were too
few in number and too lacking in popular support to fully reverse the trend of
change the king had embraced.
Yet the king looked out on events in his kingdom, shook his head in
anger, and reversed certain of his innovations.
Ironically, more than once he even reversed the reversals. In these we see indications not only of
Henry’s own unsettled course, but also his confidence that, barring something
extremely outrageous, the public would at least tolerate if not
enthusiastically implement the contradictory changes.
The monarch discovered that having
granted royal blessing upon the concept of reform, he could not always
guarantee that “reform” would follow strictly within regally approved
patterns. And having given it royal
sanction, in the public mind he transformed a minority of disgruntled dissenters
into respectable advocates of change. He
could abort their more daring suggestions, imprison and behead a few here and
there, and make it difficult to publicly push for further reform. On the other hand, barring a 180 degree
reversal (which would require considerable humiliation and financial loss to
the kingdom), he had created a self-perpetuating and growing lobby that would
increasingly look upon the king as having launched a revolution that it was
their responsibility to complete.
In a very real sense all the parties
were in a self-created trap. The king
could establish whatever religious policy he desired--but knew full well there
were limits as to how far he could go.
The traditionalists wanted a full return to the original condition of
the church, but by their long tolerance of the changes fatally compromised
their capacity to push but so hard. On
the other hand, the reformers also were trapped by their professed loyalty to
the monarch from breaking free and carrying the religious revolution to the
full fruits they desired
No matter what policies were
adopted, they, like the traditionalists also, would usually be careful to limit
their degree of visible and public dissent.
Even when Henry backed clear-cut “Romanist” traditionalist policies, the
most they would do was privately express a preference for a different approach
while being careful to outwardly conform to the newest decrees.[15] Cranmer summed up
the mind frame well in his 1547 address as Archbishop when he discusses how the
religious errors of King, the royal council, and Parliament should be handled,[16]
Being bound by my function to lay these
things before your royal highness, the one as a reward if you fulfill; the
other as a judgement from God if you neglect them;
yet I openly declare before the living God and before the nobles of the land,
that I have no commission to denounce your majesty deprived [of the throne, rw], if your highness miss in part, or in whole, of these
performances, much less to draw up indentures between God and your majesty, or
to say that you forfeit your crown with a clause. . . .
As Bishop Hugh Latimer later
expressed it, one could neither launch a violent rebellion nor a major public
controversy with the King, “ . . . I may refuse to obey with a good conscience,
yet for all that I may not rise up against the magistrates or make any uproar;
for if I do so, I sin damnably. I must
be content to suffer whatsoever God shall lay upon me.”[17]
Hence both traditionalists and
reformists felt that loyalty to the crown required a backing off from any
extreme public steps that would publicly put them at odds with the king. Both sides ultimately faced considerable
repression and rejection rather than openly break with their sovereign.
This is not the place to examine in
detail the many further steps toward Protestantization
of both Anglicanism and England. Rather,
here our central point is that Anglicanism was an actively evolving
system, moving first in one direction and then another. The very spiritual forces that had given it
an inner dynamic continued to operate in directions new kings and queens did
not always approve. Yet the very
strength of these forces made it increasingly difficult to convince the bulk of
the population that a return to traditional Catholicism could ever again be an
acceptable option.
Furthermore, the divisions in the
Protestant front made Anglicanism into the middle ground of spiritual “moderation,”
especially when, under Elizabeth and James, the Puritan element failed in its
effort to seize control. The problem
with moderation is, of course, its moderation.
To some the moderation reflected lack of deep convictions or a
convenient political tool to further one's own interests. To many others it represented an effort to
remove the worst offenses without “throwing out the baby with the bath water.”
Many, however, viewed these as ungodly compromises hindering the
complete reformation required of the church and the nation. If they were able to think in such terms,
they might well have conceded that Anglicanism represented the “center” of the
religious spectrum in the nation. Of
course, given their own spiritual perspectives, it was a weak-kneed center that
refused to adopt the more vigorous stance that more thorough-going reform
insisted upon.
When the English moved beyond
Independent Catholicism into its own distinctive Anglicanism, this emphasized
the propriety--even the necessity--of examining a wide variety of practices and
doctrines. Previously things were done
and believed a certain way because that
was the way it was. Now everything was
up for grab--in moderation and with caution.
Although anyone could prove what
they wished from the papal encyclicals (royal lawyers had made careers out of
doing so), the shift from papal to Biblical authority and from Latin to English
permitted multitudes to begin to judge for themselves what they believed the
Scriptures truly taught. Previously the
sources of disputation (encyclicals and in Latin) were open to only a small
learned minority; now a significant minority of the population had the central
religious document of their faith--the Bible--available in a language they
understood. If they did not personally
own one, they had at least periodic access to a copy—or, if not that, to
hearing it read in the vernacular. The
very act of making the population more literate produced religious
controversies to an unprecedented degree.
The basic documents of discussion
were now available not just to a handful of royal or church officials but to
the masses. By its very nature this had
to transform the nature of the religious debate. Just as the king, in a growing sense, had to
“answer” to the “people” politically through the instrument of Parliament, the
ruler now had to “answer” to the masses religiously through the medium
of both Parliament and the internal reform movement within Anglicanism.
Ease of access to the scriptures
encouraged a rugged individualism in interpretation, in which everyone felt
qualified to interpret the entire Bible.
At its positive best, this encouraged the open clash of opinions, the
testing of interpretations, and the sometimes unwilling junking of those that
did not hold up. Negatively, it
encouraged individuals to express strong opinions when their actual knowledge
of the text was modest.[18] Having created a new church over the
indignant protests of the traditional clergy, the new, Anglican establishment
now had to hold onto its power and the scripturality
of its doctrine and practice when assailed by its own more reform minded individuals.
Several factors worked to keep the
dissidents from gaining the upper hand, however. At least well into Elizabeth’s reign there
was the recognition that excessive divisiveness could lose the entire reform
cause to Rome. If not a “united front,”
at least acquiescence was recognized as desirable if not absolutely
essential.
Furthermore, except for Edward’s
brief reign, a dedicated reform militant never gained the throne. Instead we find those who reined in the
louder militants and attempted to suppress them whenever practical. Yet so deep was the sentiment for more
pervasive “reform,” that it is quite easy to conceive of their successful
seizure of the reins of church power if they had been backed by a similarly
minded ruler.
One powerful ideological reservoir
that provided a unifying strength throughout the first century of the English
reformation was that of shared Calvinism.
(We speak here of the concepts rather than the label.) All factions shared its doctrine of
predestination,[19]
the conviction that one’s individual eternal destiny was determined by the
unilateral decision of God: however one
might fight it, that decision was ultimately reflected in one’s conduct,
beliefs, and--beyond this life--in an everlasting home among either the
redeemed or the damned.
From the rejecter’s standpoint (and
these mainly begin to appear in the seventeenth century), this was the doctrine
that one’s eternal destiny was not determined by one’s acts of omission
and commission and was never altered by these. Those favoring the doctrine, would have
argued that one’s acts of omission and behavior are always in accord
with one’s predestined fate; predestination and conduct are irrevocably linked
and no one can break that linkage and initiate a truly independent course of
conduct. True, one receives a final
judgment “based,” in an accommodative use of the term, upon that belief and
behavior, but the underlying reason behind the faith and manner of life
is the type of predestination given to the individual by God.
Even here Anglicans tended to put their own distinctive emphasis upon
the concept of predestination, stressing the positive and encouraging aspect of
predestination, that of eternal life rather than, as in normative
Calvinism, putting an equal stress upon predestination to eternal damnation.
Only in the 1600s did Arminianism’s rejection of this approach begin to register
as a theological alternative in the clerical and lay religious minds. To them our destiny was determined by our own
decisions and actions; God imposed on humans answerability for those
decisions rather than locked us inevitably into a predetermined and
unchangeable eternal destiny.
To what extent this provided a significant challenge during the early
seventeenth century has been intensely debated by historians.[20] To the extent that Arminianism
gained a hold, it was within the mainline, controlling faction of the Church of
England. To both the Calvinist
dissidents and many mainliners, anger over the Arminian
innovation was fueled not only by repugnance at the “unscripturality”
of the doctrine, but also out of the fear that it would become the theological
stepping stone for many to return to Catholicism.[21]
With the growing popularity of Arminianism, we find a distinct theological breach
undermining the traditional unifying factor of Calvinism within the higher
echelons of the church. (Archbishop Laud
often bears the blame for this, but the alternative was already being seriously
examined--and even accepted by some--decades before he came to power.) With the overt repudiation of the theological
foundation (with verbal fig-leafs, upon occasion, for dissenters), the Anglican
movement had begun to evolve a theology so distinct from the past that even the
powerful shared agenda of anti-papalism could not
hold Puritanism within its ranks.
Of course, by this time there were
many inside the Anglican church who had no more interest in maintaining the
Anglican-Puritan theological axis than did the more militant on the Puritan
side. With the voices for spiritual war
dominant and the shared ties decreasing, two antithetical religious movements
were vying for the soul of the nation.
The victory for one was perceived as requiring the defeat of the
other--a perception shared by both factions.
Yet the Armianism of the seventeenth century
was only the cumulative divisive issue.
During Elizabeth and James the breach between what became the two groups
had already produced one battle after another and many mutual recriminations.
We would be ill-advised to consider
that the Puritans were the only obstacles the Anglican establishment
faced. There were pressures pushing it
in many directions and those pressures varied in intensity over both time and
geography.
In real-life religious and religio-politcal issues are rarely perceived as clear-cut
ones. Hence the reality of personal
interactions and shifting alliances often play as great a role in the ultimate
outcome as theoretical convictions. In
the 1570s in England, for example, you had at least three significant power
players: You had the bishops who wished
to assure their own authority while instituting elements of reform. You had Catholic noblemen and you had
concerned pro-reform gentry. How these
elements interacted varied greatly: two
might band together against the other or one might be able to grind to a
virtual stand-still the desires of another.
For example, in Suffolk the bishop
and the Catholic factions teamed up against the Puritan element. In Cambridgeshire
the reform element made life miserable for Bishop Cox by constantly undermining
his agenda and program. In Chichester Bishop Curteys was on
the receiving end, but here it was the Catholic traditionalists who virtually
neutralized his policies and reform efforts.[22]
Of course things were actually even more
complicated than this. One had the
official agenda of Elizabeth, which all three groupings had to contend
with. One had a dramatically differing
degree of local religious enthusiasm from place to place--which, of course,
could itself shift according to various local and national events. Furthermore, one had that strange phenomena
that we today call “public opinion”--never written in concrete but always
perceived as a social reality that shapes and molds both what is acceptable
policy and how one goes about defending and executing it.
Anglicanism Defines Itself Through
Conflict with Puritanism
The area of Calvinism least likely
to gain regal and hierarchical support was in regard to church structure. Calvinism endorsed a theoretically
local-based church government, with regular meetings of these congregations’
representatives constituting a downward-to-upward relationship in power: the regional and national meetings only had
whatever authority the local congregations were willing to concede to
them. The bishop-based system inherited
from Catholicism was based upon power flowing in the opposite direction, from
upward-to-downward: The local churches
were doing the “right” thing because the higher powers had authorized it.
The church as a bureaucratic
institution had an automatic bias in favor of the existing system. From the political standpoint, it gave the
ruler the maximum degree of control over the church, one that could never be
obtained if one had to deal with thousands of local congregations rather than
through a limited number of superior authority-figures recognized by both the
churches and the king as having power in their own right. No king or queen was ever willing to remove
his or her levers of control and hence the Puritan lobbying for severe
decentralization into a parish based system never could garner the pivotal
political support to translate it into reality.
Since both Calvinists and Anglicans
claimed to recognize the supreme authority of the scriptures, both had to
present an analysis of the Biblical text consistent with their
convictions. The Calvinists had the
better of this since it was far easier to point to evidence of presbyter-based
church government than it was to find clear texts that seemed to allude to
church government via higher level authorities (i.e., “bishops”). The Calvinists argued that the absence of
reference to the latter established the presbyter-based/local-church-based
organizational structure as the only proper one.
Although there were texts that could
be used to attempt to prove that bishops existed as distinct and superior to
presbyter-elders in the first century church, it was a far weaker and less
compelling case. (To use my own
evaluation of the relative power of their respective scriptural exegesis.)
Anglicans tended to increasingly rely upon the line of reasoning
spelled out by Whitgift’s reasoning in his
anti-puritan writings, “I find no one certain and perfect kind of government
prescribed or commanded in the scriptures to the church of Christ; which no
doubt should have been done, if it had been a matter necessary unto the
salvation of the church.”[23] Hence to Anglicans the issue was one of
expediency and best judgment in a given historical situation; to Calvinists and
their Puritan advocates in England it was a matter of accepting the Biblical
pattern or rejecting it.
The shared doctrinal Calvinism of
the English church provided a strong unifying strand that discouraged either
Anglican or (what became) Puritan from usually pushing their agendas to the
point of an irreconcilable breach.[24] These ties were already under heavy stress by
the end of the sixteenth century, as manifested by the evolution of doctrinal
dissent in a more “radical” direction and by intense disagreements over the
proper organizational structure of the church.
The divisions were accentuated and
ultimately pushed to the point of no return by several factors. Although we usually think of these questions
as explaining why Puritanism became a dissenting (and even separatist)
movement, it would be useful to keep in mind that the anti-Puritan
controversies also played a pivotal role in the effort of Anglicanism to define
its true nature. Self-definition comes
not just from what one favors but also evolves from the fires of
controversy as one determines what one is against.
Of the stress lines that came to
define the nature and definition of both Puritanism and Anglicanism, first
there was the evolution of anti-episcopal thought
itself. Under the impact of the Marian
exile and the continuing alignment of the King with a different strain of
thought, Puritan doctrine evolved in a more independent direction than before. To a lesser and lesser extent did it matter
what the mainstream thought or, for that matter, was it vitally important what
continental reformers of a more radical bend were thinking. The Puritan movement had set down its own domestic
roots and had hit a critical mass where it was self-perpetuating and
self-involving.
Writing in 1589, Thomas Cooper
could, even then, see how Puritan thought had changed through the decades in a
more and more irreconcilable direction.[25]
At the beginning some learned and godly
preachers, for private respects in themselves, made strange to wear the
surplice, cap, or tippet: but yet so
that they declared themselves to think the thing indifferent, and not to judge
evil of such as did use them.
Shortly after rose up
another defending that they were not things indifferent
but disdained with antichristian idolatry, and therefore not to be suffered in the Church.
Not long after came another sort affirming
that those matters touching apparel were but trifles, and not worthy contention
in the Church, but that there were greater things of fear more weight and
importance, and indeed touching faith and religion, and therefore meet to be
altered in a church rightly. As the Book
of Common Prayer, the administration of the Sacraments, the government of the
Church, the election of ministers, and a number of other like.
Fourthly, now break out another sort
earnestly affirming and teaching, that we have no Church, no bishops, no
ministers, no sacraments; and therefore that all that love Jesus Christ ought
with all speed to separate themselves from our congregation, because our
assemblies are profane, wicked and antichristian.
These trends of challenge and
compromise/acceptance (or defeat of the alterations) continued in the new
century. The proportion of those willing
to yield token/superficial conformity, however, grew fewer in number as the
years went by.
Looking at it from the “mainstream”
viewpoint of Anglicanism, the passage of decades allowed the new religious
establishment to set down roots of its own.
It became not so much “revolutionary” as “establishmentarian.” It was not so much interested in opposing the
powers of Rome as--at least equally--upholding its own newly established powers
and prerogatives.
The backing of the king(s) encouraged the development of this trend
since the king was the supreme head of the church and used it as an expression
of his own religious aspirations and agenda.
The new traditionalism of Anglicanism began to see itself as upholding a
continuity of viewpoint; it saw itself as establishing a new, viable tradition
that was proper, appropriate, and useful in its own right. As such it was worthy of defense against
those who would demand more radical change.
Reinforcing the development of
Anglicanism as a distinct movement was the suffering its leaders endured under
Mary. It now had its own
martyrs--individuals who neither resorted to foreign exile nor (in the ideal
situation) unduly compromised their own convictions while remaining behind.
In turn, especially late in Elizabeth’s reign and in the early
seventeenth century, one began to see large numbers of the religiously active
local citizens begin to have an intense personal commitment to the new
orthodoxy. Protests became common not
just against the bishops and the church’s practice, but also against those who
desired to alter or abolish those practices.
In short, the hierarchy was gaining the major grass roots support
essential for its long-range control of the church’s direction.[26]
Furthermore, there was a growing
difference in perception of the central functioning role of
ministers. To the Puritan it was the
preached word--to reform the wayward and to maintain the righteous on the
straight and narrow road to heaven. To
what became the Anglicans, the central purpose of the ministry was to carry out
the ordained rituals and practices of worship.
At least as early as the Hampton Court Conference the difference was
summed up by one of the Anglican mentality as a contrast between a preaching
and a praying ministry, the two terms being both literal and symbolic of
the different roles ministers were to play.
The Bishop of London, Richard Bancroft, fell to his knees before the
king at one point in the Conference and implored,[27]
Because I see this is a time of moving
petitions, may I humbly present two or three to your Majesty: First, that there be amongst us a praying
ministry; it being now come to pass, that men think it the only duty of
ministers to spend their time in the pulpit.
I confess, in a church newly to be planted, preaching is most necessary,
not so in one so long established, that prayer should be neglected.
It is not a matter of which side was
sincere and which side was not. With the
normal exceptions one finds within any movement, both sides were dominated by
those who genuinely thought their own approach was the best and most proper
one.[28] Sincerity did not mean, however, there was necessarily
room for compromise. Especially when the
gulf became established for too long and bridging the chasm would require such
a profound alteration in sentiment and practice that it could not be
implemented without repudiating one’s own basic convictions.
The Anglican Mentality
If it is common to speak of a
“Puritan” mentality, it is far less so to speak of an “Anglican” one. Perhaps this is due to the reading of a
negative, condemnatory evaluation into the expression, rather than utilizing it
as it should be, as a framework for analysis.
Anglicanism represented the merger
of the perceived virtues of both Catholicism and the Reformation. To many individuals, there is an innate
appeal in the ceremonial and the ritualistic.
Perhaps it represents stability and order in a world that all too often
seems chaotic. To such individuals the
steady reliability of traditional practices was vastly reassuring on the
emotional level.
Anglicanism also represented loyalty
to the crown. To many this was adequate
in its own right to establish spiritual propriety. They did not have to make a purely personal
decision; the government had decided the issue for them. The choice seemed reasonable and, after all,
weren’t God’s people commanded to obey the government?
By attending Anglican services and
participating in its rituals one simultaneously exhibited one’s piety and one’s
loyalty to the government. Hence
Anglicanism served a dual purpose also manifested in the ancient emperor cult
of the Roman Empire. (Catholicism, as
the established religion, performed a similar function in Spain and other such
lands.) There was, of course, a very
crucial difference: instead of
worshipping the nation or the emperor it was the worship required by the
ruler.
In a number of countries in the
twentieth century one was required to demonstrate one’s loyalty to the
government through obligatory membership in the political organization (or
associated groups) that ran the government.
Even when not explicitly required it was often implicitly essential,
since all recognized that the only sure road to advancement--to the best
education, the best jobs, and the best housing--was through membership and
active participation.
Likewise the English government
required membership in the Church of England.
It is highly likely that a far higher percentage of the English actually
believed in the established church than their modern counterparts have
believed in the required political apparatuses of the twentieth century. In short, there was always a large number of
citizens who took their religion quite seriously and interpreted involvement in
the state church as a privilege rather than a mere obligation. The latter it was, but it was a secondary
concern at best.
Furthermore, Anglicanism represented
an episcopal (government by bishop) system that had
the potential for reigning in the divisive potential of the Reformation. When Henry pushed through his independentizing of Catholicism, he certainly had no desire
to see the English church splinter under the impact of religious conflict. Likewise, those who took the church from
organizational independence into doctrinal and liturgical independence under
the following rulers had no desire to see the spiritual unity of the realm
disintegrate.
Yet it was no secret (especially by
the middle of Elizabeth’s rule) that there was no longer a “united” state
church. Even under Henry this explosive
potential was clear and alarming. Hence
the government efforts to rein them in throughout the era. Many remained in the state church while espousing
beliefs and ecclesiastical theories that would undermine its power; while
others created independent congregations.
The possibility of the church
splintering in a hundred directions under the onslaught of doctrinal dissent
and congregationalism was not a mere bogeyman to haunt the nightmares of the
clergy. It was a stark possibility. Hence as early as Archbishop Cranmer it was recognized that the preservation of an
effective episcopate might well provide the ecclesiastical clout to compel into
conformity (or at least silence) of those who would push the disagreements
beyond rhetoric into rebellion and separation.[29]
On a social level, the episcopal system also had the potential for a meaningful
suppression of the social vices of the era.
However laudable the congregational orientation of the Presbyterians
might be in the abstract, any strict adherence to that principle seriously
compromised the ability to inflict strong church discipline upon the
reprobate.
When operating in a congregational framework, one could theoretically
simply move to another congregation (in actual practice it was not that simple);
the geographically widespread authority of the bishop made such an escape from
responsibility far more difficult.
Furthermore, as the representative of state authority, the bishop had
the right contacts and influence to hope to bring to bear the powers of the
state in cases of flagrant misconduct.[30]
Because of such factors, the
Anglican did not see himself as occupying a futile middle ground between papalism and Protestant radicalism. He or she could see in the balancing between
tradition and change, the making of a new synthesis that could provide for the
spiritual well-being of the people as well as having the potential for curbing
the worst of societal excesses.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Loades, Revolution in Religion, 3.
[2] Diarmaid MacCulloch, “England,” in The Early Reformation in Europe, edited by Andrew Pettegree (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 166.
[6] On the use of adiaphora as a tool to rationalize accepting the King’s changes, see Loades, Oxford Martyrs, 55-56
[17] As quoted by Ibid., 91. Contrast his condemnation of rejecting a religious belief in private that one seemed to be following in practice (57).
[18] For quotations from the sixteenth and early seventeenth century focusing on this weakness, see Timothy George, “The Translator’s Tale: Celebrating the Five-Hundredth Birthday of William Tyndale, the Father of the English Bible,” Christianity Today 38 (October 24, 1994): 36.
[20] Margo Todd, “ ‘All One with Tom Thumb’: Arminianism, Popery, and the Story of the Reformation in Early Stuart Cambridge,” Church History 64 (December 1995): 563.
[22] MacCulloch, Latter Reformation in England, 48, provides the three-prong analysis and these specific examples.
[24] On shared Calvinism as a vital unifying force see Nicholas Tyacke, “Archbishop Laud,” in The Early Stuart Church, 1603-1642, edited by Kenneth Fincham (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1993), 67.
[25] An Admonition to the People of England (1589), as quoted by Stuart B. Babbage, Puritanism and Richard Bancroft (London: SPCK, 1962), 9.
[26] For examples of local church protests against Puritan-type demands, see Judith Maltby, “ ‘By this Book’: Parisioners, the Prayer Book and the Established Church,” in The Early Stuart Church, 1603-1642. In The Early Stuart Church, 1603-1642, edited by Kenneth Fincham (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1993), 118-128.
[27] As quoted by Lori Anne Ferrell, “Kneeling and the Body Politic,” in Religion, Literature, and Politics in Post-Reformation England, 1540-1688, edited by Donna B. Hamilton and Richard Strier (Cambridge [England]: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 71. She argues that this was part of a conscious strategy (73-74) to tap into the King’s fundamental concern for maintaining control over the church. Symbolically, prayer (i.e., kneeling prayer) suggests submission and obedience while preaching suggests intellectual challenge and even potential revolt. The former imagery reinforces the submission any king sought; the latter imagery could result in a challenge of it and James was already convinced that Puritans were too ready to go in that direction.
[29] On this as a factor in Cranmer’s thinking, see Maurice Elliott, “Cranmer’s Attitude to the Episcopate: Bishops, Priests and Deacons,” Churchman 109 (1995): 322-323.