It’s time that we talked a bit about the “plain sense” of Scripture. I’ve seen a certain amount in the blogosphere recently about the plain sense, so I thought I’d say a word or two (or a couple thousand) about it to give a biblical scholar’s perspective on the issue.

I. A Short History of the Plain Sense
The main argument in Church history that led to the need to talk about a “plain sense” of the Scriptures is, of course, the Reformation. John Calvin, Martin Luther, and others argued for the pespecuity of the Scriptures which is a fancy way of saying that the Scriptures are clear and understandable. As long as a person has the Spirit, they can understand what the Spirit meant in the composition of Scripture. Now–that was a loaded sentence so we’ll say a few things about what they were saying and what they weren’t–and yes, I’ll be working with some sweeping generalizations here.

A. Rejection of the Need for a Magisterium
In the first place, the claim of the perspecuity of the Scriptures was a reaction to the atmosphere of the Late Medieval Roman Catholic Church. Perhaps the most important meaning of their declaration is that a magisterium with an authoritative interpretation of Scripture was unnecessary. Note, please, they weren’t saying hat the teaching of the magisterium was necessarily wrong (at least not on all points); they were arguing that it was unnecessary and that Christians could read and understand Scripture for themselves.

With this statement, they were making a bit of a departure from standard church practice. In the first place, they were sanctioning giving the whole Scriptures to the people in their own language. We focus on the latter part but the former part was the real issue. After all, there had been vernacular translations and paraphrases of certain sections for quite a long time.

Giving the whole Scriptures to the people was a rather problematic endeavor. The Church had noticed that heresies arose when people read the Scriptures for themselves–and by themselves. After all, the Marcionites, Arians, Nestorians, Sabellians, Cathars, etc. were not heretics because they *weren’t* reading the Scriptures; they *were* reading them, reading them improperly, and thus the Scriptures were promoting the problem, not solving it.

Furthermore, there was always anxiety around the Old Testament. The Church believed and taught that the Old Testament and New Testament fit together as a seamless whole. The revelation of Jesus superceded parts of the OT. After all, according to Paul the Law was a pedagogue–the slave who instructed children–but since the children have achieved their majority as inheritors of the kingdom, the pedagogue can be dispensed with. More particularly–the Church knew which sections no longer applied. Any old Joe who picked up a Bible didn’t..

Looking at the Old English material, this anxiety can be clearly seen. Ælfric in his sermons warns against applying the old law in a blanket fashion (like in the sermon for the Circumcision of Our Lord); Æthelwold in his translation of Benedict’s Rule warns against the monks hearing of the Books of Samuel and Kings outside of a liturgical setting where they were properly (i.e., typologically) interpreted.

As a result, lay people–the literate ones at least–were given only parts of Scripture (like the Psalms) and edited portions of the Gospels for their reflection and pious devotion. The Reformers threatened this whole system.

B. Rejection of Interpretive Methodologies
Another facet of this insistence on the perspecuity of Scripture was directed towards the abuses of allegorical interpretation. And there were certainly abuses that needed correcting. Look at any sermon or interpretation of the number of fish caught in the disciples’ net in John 21 and you’ll see a perfect example of what I mean–wild speculation abounds. The Reformers were arguing that these excesses violated the clear meaning of Scripture. There are at least two things to keep in mind, though: 1) the Reformers themselves were schooled in and used these “allegorical” methods and 2) these were pre-Scholastic methods operating in a post-Scholastic environment.

First, the Reformers were themselves schooled in these methods of interpretation; it was deep in their bones. Consequently, when you open their writings–and I’m thinking specifically of some of Luther’s sermons here–you find exactly the same thing. While they rejected the excesses of the method, they knew and used the method itself. Understanding their rejection of it means understanding the limits they thought should be palced on it.

Second, these reading methods were quite old. They were patristic, in fact, and sprang from the reading methods of Late Antiquity. Allegorical interpretation proper is most often found coming from a monastic milieu (Gregory the Great being a foremost promoter) that operated within the categories of Stoic philosopy. That is, their focus and interest was on human action–moral action in particular. Taking seriously that all Scripture was inspired to be profitable and upbuilding, they played in and with the text within the boundaries of the creeds. They would take texts that seemed (to them) to serve little or no useful function and wring it for every potential bit of profit, sometimes utilizing rather unusual mental gymnastics to find some divine honey.

Scholasticism with its Aristotelianism and later Nominalism explored and used the texts in different ways than the Stoic-flavored contemplative readings. Under the dialectical schoolmen, the texts became less a playground and far more a mine for doctrine. This is the attitude that the Reformers brought. If the text was a source of axioms for theological proofs, it had to have a stable meaning that didn’t change so much. So–allegory had to be curtailed if not rejected. Note that Aquinas interprets the Scriptures the same way; the literal sense is the sense to be used for the establishment of doctrine.

Now, these two meanings were the anti-Roman meanings of the Reformers’ dicta. But–here are some other factors embedded in there as well.

C. The Agency of the Holy Spirit
The Reformers–like the Catholic magisterium–believed that the whole text, Old and New Testament, was written by a single author: the Holy Spirit. Furthermore, the Spirit taught how the Bible was to be read. Without the Spirit, the Reformers believed that the Scriptures were inscrutiable–or at least could not be rightly read. Thus, they assumed the unity of the OT and NT, and that some literal meanings were either not correct or had been superceded.

One of the most important safeguards here is that if the whole Scriptures were by the Holy Spirit all apparent contradictions within Scripture are just that–apparent rather than actual. For instance . . . when in his ministry did Jesus cleanse the Temple: at the beginning as reported in John or at the end as in the Synoptics? (Many interpreters concerned with contradiction asserted that he did it both times. You’ll still find this today in some circles.) Potentially more damaging, who are the “brothers and sisters” of Jesus recorded in the gospels? Could they really be the biological children of Joseph and Mary–who, it was taught, were celibate? (These family members were interpreted as cousins.)

What happened when the Reformers put the Scriptures in the hands of the people is what the magisterium predicted–problems. People without the discipline and teaching of the Church–often without even a basic understanding of the creeds–began interpreting the Scriptures in ways that neither the magisterium nor the Reformers intended. Various heresies were soon revisited. Antinomian controversies rocked the nascent Lutheran Church. The “Enthusiasts” began proclaiming complete liberty from all morality. Calvinists, in particular, attempted to translate the legisltion of Torah into the law of the land with remarkable failures. Marian devotion plummeted after the first generation of Reformers. In short–they had a mess on their hands.

One of the outgrowths (and causes) of the Reformation was Renaissance learning. Western scholars started studying Greek and Hebrew, old texts were compared with one another, and Protestant biblical scholars began talking about the grammatical sense of the text. As these trends progressed and universities became the locus of major biblical interpretation, the grammatical sense became a way of saying “the clear sense not constrained by a Catholic interpretation.” As things moved even further this became “the clear sense not constrained by either Catholic or Protestant interpretations.” Finally, it became “the clear sense free from any dogmatic constraints” and we were on our way towards the scientific study of Scripture.

The sceintific study of the Scriptures began doing its work which included noticing all sorts of contradictions, seams in the texts, historical blunders, and many of the traditional presuppositions were called into question. The original intentions of the author became the dominant “meaning” but the authors in question were now the many separate human authors rather than the Spirit. Finally, the accuracy of what the text revealed was questioned. Questions of cosmology, biology, and history arose as the texts were read without dogmatic restraints and as they were read in parallel with other contemporary texts.

Finally, certain parts of Protestantism could no longer ignore these developments and they began a backlash against this method of reading the text. The result was a certain hardening or rigidity of reading known to us as fundamentalism. The fundamentalists, in a way, insisted on what the Reformers did–that there was a single correct literal sense of the text over against other ways of reading–but they were arguing something different against different opponents from what the Reformers had been arguing. This is the point when the novel notions of infallibility and inerrancy were introduced. So, these are the seeds of modern day “literalism.”

The problem of terminology now arises. In essence, the fundamentalists and the biblical scholars were in agreement: most passages of the Bible have a more or less obvious meaning. To interpret them apart from that is to depart from the clear or plain sense of the text. I don’t say “literal” here because a strict literalism means a rejection of figures, schemes, and tropes in a way that is itself an aberration.

As all self-conscious readers of texts know, sometimes a text signals that its contents are not meant to be read literally. Figures and tropes are clearly literary devices and should be read that way. When Jeremiah says that the Word of God is a hammer, no rational person thinks that God’s breath congeals as a hand tool. Furthermore, certain genres in Scripture clearly signal that they are to be read with a different set of understandings–unless you believe that there is a literal seven-headed red dragon running around somewhere a la Revelation.

In order to avoid these misinterpretations and misrepresentations, both biblical scholars, fundamentalists, and other believers talk about the “plain sense of the text.” And I don’t think that this is a problem. In fact, I am prepared to argue that this is the sense that the great majority of all Christians use when they sit down to read the Bible (or any other text for that matter). So–what’s the problem?

(To be continued…)

One of the great things about the web is that it isn’t static . . . As and/or if more entries come in for the Christian Identity Carnival, I’ll plug them into to the original post. Thus, I’ll draw to your attention that the Anglican Scotists has presented the first of what seems to be a series of posts addressing the various topics.

I won’t go in to depth on this now, but we need to have a good and thorough discussion about Scripture. I’ve written or scripture before, of course, but it’s time to look closely at text and hermeneutics. Folks from several different sides–like the Scotist and David and some others at Per Christum–have been rejecting the “plain sense of the text.” This is a polemical position that isn’t really arguing about the “plain sense”; rather, it argues against the identification and application of said plain sense…

More later.

When I read through spiritualities of the past, I find that I don’t have the same psychology of sin. A great many of the medieval mystics, Caroline Divines, and other luminaries I read speaking of weeping over sins–and they mean that literally. I’ve never done this. Is not that I’m not sorry for my sins, but they don’t pull at me the way that these folks apparently felt. I wonder why that is . . .

Part of it is probably attributable to the decline in auricular confession. Because we don’t have to ennumerate our sins, we don’t recognize them or even notice them as much as our spiritual forebearers. This loss of attentiveness is not a good thing, but it’s where we are. The Episcopal Church has no official stance on Confession that I’m aware of but there is a liturgy for it (pp. 447-452) and many of the higher churches offer appointed times for the sacrament; for Lutherans, of course, private confession is confessionally mandated . . .

Part of it too is a shift in psychology. We live in a more humanistic time. Our worldview is different from theirs. Furthermore, our current liturgies are addressed to and reinforce our worldview rather than theirs. The liturgies that are most in my bones, the ELCA Green Book and the ’79 BCP don’t emphasize penitence the way that earlier liturgies did and (as I have remarked before) when I look at those liturgies with modern eyes their humility seems excessive to the point that it borders on spiritual pride (Look at me!–how wonderfully humble I am! I’m *so* much more humble than you, etc.). I’d probably feel different if I were raised with these liturgies–but I wasn’t.

As a result, I’ve never know quite how to approach sin in a constructive fashion. One thing I know I need to do is to find a confessor; I hope to do that when I move. But something really clicked for me today in relation to an image from Theresa of Avila. It was in reference to the nearness of Christ to us and the soul as a mirror.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried lighting your house with candles or oil lamps, but they don’t produce very much light at all. One of the tricks for improving this problem before electricty was to put a mirror behind the light source, effectively doubling it by redirecting the light. I suddenly had an image of Christ, Lux Mundi, standing near, even next, to each one of us. The soul is a mirror and sin a black stain upon the mirror that absorbs light, not reflecting it. We are called to letour light so shine before others….but we are not the original source of that light–we reflect rather than create. It is in reflecting Christ that we share his love to the world. Sin, then, diminishes the effect of his light through our own diminished capacity to reflect. For some reason this way of looking at the subject touched me and caught me in a way that others haven’t to this point. Our sin dimishes his witness in the world; the exercise of virtue, on the other hand, as motivated by the Sacraments and the movement of the Spirit restore our reflective abilities…

In light of church-wide events, I thought it would be edifying to take a look at people who aren’t paid theologians or high muckety-mucks and see what we really believe–establish some “facts on the ground” as it were. Especially with the rhetoric of two religions in one church or “conjoined twins connected at the head,” I wanted to see how the people who read this blog think about Christian identity. As today is the Feast of St Irenaeus of Lyon, I thought I’d use his three marks of the church to kick us off, modified by two logical additions. Furthermore, in order to focus our thinking, I asked for a 1,500 word limit. Here are the categories:

Canon
Creed
Apostolic Succession
catholicity
reformation

Several thoughtful responses have appeared. Thank you to all who participated–and thank you in advance to those who will read, comment, and join in upbuilding conversation about who we are as members of the Body of Christ.

I’ll order the entries on their principles of organization. Some of us moved on a point by point basis, others integrated and fused the five marks into a more holistic approach. I heartily commend them all to you.

Some moved through the points using elements of the tradition as starting places for reflection. Lutherpunk used authoritative statements from the ELCA’s Statement of Faith, to the Augsburg Confession, to the words of Luther himself. On a similar tack, Joe from Canterbury Trail used quotations from notable Anglican authors. I used collects from the BCP to orient my thoughts. D. C., The Questioning Christian, numbers his points like a lawyer (no surprise there… :-D).

Annie chose a more free-form approach to the orderly process and consciously gives us a more personal reflection on these topics. The abbot of the Monastery of the Remarkable English Martyrs, Caelius, offers a set of comments, reflections and questions to jog us towards the truth. The Anglican Scotist offers us an initial reflection on the topic of canon.

Moving to the further free-form, *Christopher, though burned out from recent events, offered some initial movements and pointed us to some of his pertinent reflections on the topics. Travis, the theologically formidable host of Gaunilo’s Island, gives us an integrated blend of the topics that lifts up the overall liturgical character of the church. (With his blend of theology, liturgy, and poetry so reminiscent of a certain archbishop, I’m calling upon VW for immediate Alternative Eyebrow Oversight.) Lastly, despite all sorts of protests to the contrary, bls from The Topmost Apple offers a fine reflection both mathematical and theological.

Thanks again to all who participated and who will participate–and I can’t wait to see the comments and discussions that grow out of these wonderful posts!

(And if I missed anyone or if anyone is in the process of putting something up, let me know and I’ll add it here.)

And his text is here. (There’s a summary at the top, the full text is below. Finally–a readable, comprehensible, intellegent statement about the Anglican Communion from the person who is supposed to be at its head.

It’s not a spanking; it’s clear reflection. I appreciate the way that he frames the issues. Speaking as a straight white guy I think that he presents clearly the difference between civil rights and the Church’s support of those civil rights and the theological and biblical status of homosexual partnerships. He also makes specific mention of my own objection to to Bishop Robinson’s consecration–that the US church consecrated a bishop in a sexual relationship outside the bounds of the canons and the liturgy. (And for the record, I’m still annoyed that GC06 didn’t address this.) Some of my brother and sisters who aren’t straight white guys may feel differently about the archbishop’s words here–and if so I’m sure you’ll tell me…

I will say that this paragraph was an opportunity for the archbishop to say something about church support of harshly discriminatory civil laws in Africa–especially Nigeria–and that opportunity was not taken.

The discussion of truth and unity is helpful as well, pointing out the inevitable tension between unity and the *search* for truth. This line in particular caught my eye: “The nature of prophetic action is that you do not have a cast-iron guarantee that you’re right.” I imagine that some people are going to object to this discussion of truth because they are of the mind that the Church doesn’t need to search for truth–it already has it. It has Jesus, it has the Bible and the Sacraments, what further need to search? I would agree with the archbishop: we are still searching. Each sunrise dawns upon a new world and while God’s truth abideth still, we must figure out how to be the incarnate body of Christ each new day in spite of and through our sins and limitations.

The focus throughout the document on local communities was helpful for me. I liked that he kept returning there. Particularly helpful was the comment that local churches have some of the same issues that international bodies do. National church bodies do not and cannot decide everything on behalf and in place of local communities. That’s true across the board whether you’re talking NYC, Plano or Lagos.

The covenant as described here sounds like a good idea. And they whole “opting in” and the whole “constituent” and “associate” thing makes sense . . . except that we have the whole local problem that he just pointed out. Here’s the thing. We are an episcopal church; we do bishops. His talk of local communities would be one thing if we were congregationalists, but we’re not. It would be nice if any given local congregation could decide to either opt in or out, be a constituent or be an associate but I simply don’t see how that could work with our polity. It’s pretty clear that the covenant will be constructed in such a way that TEC will probably fall as an “associate” body. So–on a par with the British Methodist Church. I can’t imagine that the British Methodist Church contributes a whole lot to the Anglican Communion’s operating budget. I’m not saying nor do I want to be understood as saying that TEC’s money should buy its position or that other churches should compromise so we will foot their bill. I’m more noting this as an oddity.

Well, there will be much discussion about this in coming days. My own hope and prayer is that this may be a first signal that the archbishop is coming out of his shell. He has considerable theological and spiritual gifts; that’s why he was appointed to the position. Unfortunately, he has not been using them in a public fashion in dealing with our current crises. We need more statements like this! We need to know what he’s thinking. Thoughtful contributions will help our situation, and are a hell of a lot better than the rhetoric spewing that has characterized the discussion thus far.

Update: A quick survey of what other people are thinking about this is annoyingly predicatble–they’re trying to assess from this who wins and who loses. In doing so, I fear they’re missing the point… But I like Joe’s response.

The Daily Office lectionary is currently heading through a bit of Numbers 16 which brings us the interesting story of Korah, Dathan, et al. and their confrontation with Moses and Aaron.

Here’s the quick summary. Korah, Dathan, and a whole bunch of ther folks are Levites. Early in the Torah, God had called the Levites to serve in the temple and these folks are part of the batch who are not of Aaron’s lineage. So they will never be priests. Korah and the leaders confront Moses and Aaron and accuse them of usurping the priestly authority of the whole people. As a priestly people, any of them should be able to offer sacrifice. Today’s reading ended with the scene of the showdown–the two opposing groups are getting ready to present incense offerings to the Lord…

Given discussions around here recently on a number of issues, priesthood of all believers, sacramental efficacy, biblical interpretation, etc. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts and comments on this text.

Or “No, Owlfish, I really am a medievalist and do write about my dissertation here, not just the endless internecine feuds of the Anglican Communion…” but that seems a little verbose for a post title

As many of you know, I’m a dbase guy(and fund-raiser) in my day job. I’m a big fan of using technology in academic work, especially using dbases and web resources for sourcing etc. However, I’m also well positioned to know the limitations of such approaches. When doing source studies, anybody can do word searches on phrases. But even a big, well-structured dbase is no excuse for actually mastering your body of texts. I’m most often reminded of this by pure serendipity.

I’m currently reading through Bede’s Gospel Homilies looking at how he organizes and composes them. I’m seeing how and when he cites authorities and what terminology he uses in discussing the exegetical craft. Great stuff. I ran across something yesterday that brought me up short, though.

Æ’s Letter to Sigeweard is, essentially, the very first English language introduction to the Scriptures. It’s a quite a long treatise for him, running 1274 lines in the most recent modern edition. He works through the various books of the canon, noting who wrote them, offering brief synopses on occasion, and generally orienting a reader to the Scriptures. It’s very different from a modern intro in important ways. One of which is that he uses a common feature of apocalyptic—periodization of history—as an organizational feature. It’s part of an emphasis on people rather than books—he’s is as interested in the authors as the texts.

The periodization scheme that he uses is unusual. He begins by inserting “age” references as notices in the body of the work as in these representative examples:

208-11: Here was the first age of this world (from Adam to the Flood), and the next age was until the time of Abraham the ancient patriarch.

270-4: The third age was until the time of David, the greatest king of Abraham’s kin…

The full scheme is this:
1st age—Adam to the Flood
2nd age—The Flood to Abraham
3rd age—Abraham to David
4th age—David to Daniel
5th age—Daniel to Jesus
6th age—Jesus to the Eschaton
This set-up comes as no surprise whatsoever. This is all laid out clearly in Augustine’s writings, particularly in De Cat. Rud. 28 but also in Tract. In Ioh. 9.6:

Thence down to the time in which we are now living are six ages, this being the sixth, as you have often heard and know. The first age is reckoned from Adam to Noah; the second, from Noah to Abraham; and, as Matthew the evangelist duly follows and distinguishes, the third, from Abraham to David; the fourth, from David to the carrying away into Babylon; the fifth, from the carrying away into Babylon to John the Baptist; the sixth, from John the Baptist to the end of the world. Moreover, God made man after His own image on the sixth day, because in this sixth age is manifested the renewing of our mind through the gospel, after the image of Him who created us; and the water is turned into wine, that we may taste of Christ, now manifested in the law and the prophets. Hence “there were there six water-pots,” which He bade be filled with water. Now the six water-pots signify the six ages, which were not without prophecy. And those six periods, divided and separated as it were by joints, would be as empty vessels unless they were filled by Christ. Why did I say, the periods which would run fruitlessly on, unless the Lord Jesus were preached in them? Prophecies are fulfilled, the water-pots are full; but that the water may be turned into wine, Christ must be understood in that whole prophecy.

Bede also picks this same scheme up in his homily on John 2 appointed for early Epiphany (I only have vol. 2 in my bag or I’d cite it). So—no mystery here.

Where things get weird is when Æ adds to the scheme at the end of the letter:

1185-94: The sixth age of this world stands from Christ’s ascension until the Day of Judgment of which no man knows but the Savior. The seventh age is the one which spans these six from Abel the Righteous until this world’s end, not for living men, but for souls who have gone forth to the other life where they rejoice, waiting yet for when they will arise to everlasting life (just as we all shall) whole from the dead before our Lord. The eighth age is the single eternal day after our resurrection when we will reign with God in soul and in body, in eternal blessing; that single day will not end. Then the saints will shine just as the sun does now.

The six-age scheme we know, but how about these last two? These aren’t familiar additions to me. Furthermore, they have a different feel to them—less chronology based. Well…in reading through Bede I found this passage:

[Christ] was crucified on Friday, rested in the sepulcher on Saturday, and rose from the dead on Sunday, indicating to his elect that they must toil by good works throughout the six ages of this world amid the dangers of persecutions, and that they should hope for a [period of] rest for their souls in the next life, [enjoying] a kind of perpetual Sabbath. Besides, this, on judgment day, the Lord’s day as it were, they are to celebrate the recovery of their immortal bodies, in which their souls may thenceforth enjoy heavenly happiness without end. (Bede, Homilies on the Gospels, vol 2., trans. Martin and Hurst, CS111, p. 59)

This, in turn, led me to look closer in Augustine which turned up this from De Cat. Rud. 17.28:

Now, on the subject of this rest Scripture is significant, and refrains not to speak, when it tells us how at the beginning of the world, and at the time when God made heaven and earth and all things which are in them, He worked during six days, and rested on the seventh day. For it was in the power of the Almighty to make all things even in one moment of time. For He had not labored in the view that He might enjoy (a needful) rest, since indeed “He spake, and they were made; He commanded, and they were created;” but that He might signify how, after six ages of this world, in a seventh age, as on the seventh day, He will rest in His saints; inasmuch as these same saints shall rest also in Him after all the good works in which they have served Him,–which He Himself, indeed, works in them, who calls them, and instructs them, and puts away the offenses that are past, and justifies the man who previously was ungodly.

(Rather different from De Cat. Rud. 22.39 where he talks about the six ages…)

So, barring some source I don’t know about (which is possible) Æ seems to be expanding on Bede’s take on Augustine for this particular periodization of history. And I wouldn’t have come across this without reading.

In other news concerning Sigeweard—a section from Jerome’s Chronicon beginning Audi fabulam non fabulam is appointed as a reading in the original form of Paul the Deacon—not as printed in PL, though—incorrectly attributed to John Chrysostom. (I don’t have the occasion handy—I left my PDA at home by accident.)

Updated: Ok, Anastasia, I put the link up.

• For those with an interest in Catholic liturgy, check out the Royal Proclamation on the new English liturgy by poet/musician/translator/traditional Catholic King Alfred.
• More unconfirmed–but publically printed–rumors suggest that ++York indicated satisfaction with B033 but a conservative bishop told him to stow it… (see the fourth paragraph)
• ++Akinola has indeed posted a response to GC06. I find interesting this portion: “We have observed the commitment shown by your church to the full participation of people in same gender sexual relationships in civic life, church life and leadership. We have noted the many affirmations of this throughout the Convention. As you know, our Churches cannot reconcile this with the teaching on marriage set out in the Holy Scriptures and repeatedly affirmed throughout the Anglican Communion.” Is the reference to civil matters solely directed towards us?–or to England as well?
• I’ve posted my carnival text. If for whatever reason you’d like to play but would prefer not to post your text on your blog, send it to me and I’ll be happy to post it here for you.
• As an add-on to a thought expressed in bls’s exposition on tone 2 and sad occasions, check out the chart about halfway down the page here where it lists Guido of Arezzo and Adam of Fulda’s explanations of the emotion of each of the modes.
• Oh yeah–I forgot to point to Texanglican’s helpful clarification of Bishop Iker’s statement. Happily, this is not rumor and comes from the bishop himself.

Here’s my contribution to the carnival…

I. The Scriptures

Blessed Lord who hast caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them; that by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen. (Proper 28, BCP)

The canonical Scriptures of the Church–Old Testament, Apocrypha, and New Testament–contain all things necessary for salvation because they point to the identity, teachings, and saving acts of Jesus Christ. They are the authorized record of God’s dealings with his people, written by limited and sinful humans yet in a real but mysterious way God’s own Word. Its comprehensive teachings were best summarized by Jesus himself: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul and with all thy mind. This is the first and the greatest commandment. The second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” (Matt 22:37-39).

In this statement and by his actions in the gospels, however, Jesus overturned or dramatically reinterpreted some parts of the Scriptures. Furthermore, the Apostles and St Paul acting in the Spirit with the mind of Christ did the same. Thus Scripture itself reveals that it must be interpreted by the Church in accord with the mind of Christ (found foremost in his call to love; viz. Augustine). Furthermore, this interpretive process cannot help but be influenced by the community’s human reason, experience, cultural location and philosophical understandings.

II. The Creed

Almighty God, who hast revealed to thy Chuch thine eternal Being of glorious majesty and perfect love as one God in Trinity of Persons: Give us grace to continue steadfast in the confession of this faith, and constant in our worship of thee, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; who livest and reignest, one God, now and forever. Amen (Of the Holy Trinity, BCP)

The Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed are not summaries of the faith but outlines of the faith; they sketch the boundaries of what Christians must believe about the Scriptures to be considered Christians. That is, they clarify potentially contestable points in the Scriptural record particularly concerning the nature of the Godhead. They declare what problematic portions of the Scriptures are to be understood literally especially in light of the reading practices of Late Antiquity.

The Athanasian Creed (possibly written by St Vincent of Lerins) contains noble and, as far as we can know, correct statements about the inter-relations of the Godhead. However, it has never held the place of the others, probably because it arrogates to itself judgments and determinations that belong to God alone.

III. Apostolic Succession

O God, who didst lead thy holy apostles to ordain ministers in every place: grant that thy Church, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, may choose suitable persons for the ministry of Word and Sacrament, and may uphold them in their work for the extension of thy kingdom; through him who is the Shepherd and Bishop of our souls, Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the same Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (For the Ministry II, BCP)

Apostolic sucession was especially important in the early days of the church when wandering preachers and holy men were the norm. It established continuity of doctrine and the clear handing on of sacramental efficacy. The Christian Church is neither a text nor a set of beliefs; it is a community sacramentally joined the Christ himself continually striving through to incarnate Christ to the world through word and deed. The sacraments and teachings entrusted to bishops and their representatives–priests and deacons–make this possible.

Bishops and their ministries of teaching and the laying on of hands are for the sake of order in the Church, and for the orderly spread of God’s kingdom. We must remember, however, that sacraments do not work because bishops perform them according to the rules of the Church. Instead these means of grace are effected by God’s grace and at God’s good pleasure. Hence, apostolic sucession gives clarity concerning how Jesus’ gift of the Spirit has been handed on through the ages. While God is pleased to use these channels, to suggest that he may not work outside them is institutional arrogance.

IV. catholicity

O God who hast knit together thine elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of thy Son Christ our Lord: Grant us grace so to follow thy blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys which 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. (All Saints’ Day, BCP)

In the Creed’s explication of the Spirit is a reference to “the Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.” After the close of the events recorded in Scripture in the Spirit did not desert the Church but continued in its midst instructing it in the mind of Christ. The holy catholic and apostolic church is not an institution but is gathering of the true members of the Body of Christ, the Church Militant, Expectant, and Triumphant. Though not constrained within a single institution, it has manifested itself through institutions during its history, most notably in the Orthodox Church in the East and the Roman Catholic Church in the West.

Through the ages the community of the saints has explicated and clarified the Christian faith beyond what Scripture and the primitive apostolic teaching reveal. Where these explications and clarifications lead the community into the mind of Christ and holiness of life they are to be embraced and encouraged. Anglicans are inheritors of the Western spiritual traditions embodied in the historic life of the Roman Catholic Church; thus those teachings and practices of the Roman Church that advance the Gospel and the mind of Christ are commend for our practice.

V. reformation

Almighty and everlasting God, give unto us the increase of faith, hope, and charity; and that we may obtain that which thou dost promise, make us to love that which thou dost command; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (Proper 25, BCP)

While the Spirit is active and at work in the Church, the Church is also an institution comprised of humans and as such is liable to the two human sources of error, limitation and sin. Because of these, the Church collectively and its individual members constantly fall short of who and what God created it to be. Through the movement of the Spirit and human effort it must be continually redirected to the source of its life and power, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Throughout the Scriptures the twin goals of holiness and love are constantly held up before the people of God. In the complicated and sometimes contradictory demands of both we often err too far in one direction or the other, falling into a rule-based casuistry or a overly-permissive libertinism. We are constantly called back to obedience. As we struggle to discern our way in a world and culture that is constantly presenting new challenges to faithful living, it is good to seek the wisdom already contained within our historic tradition. While many reform movements have made an idol of apostolic primitivism, the full history of Christian experience should be careful examined for those things that aid us in our proclamation and embodying of Christ here and now.

(…and it slides in at 1,298 words!)