Episcopal Fidelity

‘Our Reformers seem to have designed to leave a certain latitude on points which they regarded as not of fundamental importance; and if we would approve ourselves genuine disciples of those illustrious men, we must not seek to narrow the basis on which they reared their noble edifice, nor to exclude any whom they intended to admit. As however there are some differences which do not, so there are others also which do, imply the existence of principles adverse to the spirit of our Church, and the prevalence of these ought doubtless to be guarded against.’ – Archbishop Whately, On the Use and Abuse of Party-Feeling in Religion. pp. 245, 246.

‘We are not to hold a society together by renouncing the objects of it; nor to part with our faith and our hope, as a means of attaining charity; but rather seek to combine the three; and by earnest zeal, without violence or bigotry, – by firmness, accompanied with moderation, discretion, and temper, – by conciliating adversaries without sacrificing the truth, – and by hearty yet mild co-operation with friends, to obtain the advantages of party-feeling, yet avoid its evils; and promote peace, without falling into indifference.’ —Ibid. pp. 29, 30.

A SERMON

‘Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in them: for in doing this thou shalt both save thyself and them that hear thee.’ – 1 Tim. iv. 16.

Our thoughts turn naturally to-day to the subject of the Christian ministry; and especially to that high office in it to which our brother in Christ is about to be admitted.

Scripture perhaps contains no exact model of the Episcopal office as it now exists. It is not identical with the Apostolate.1 Neither again can it be satisfactorily proved to be precisely identical with the office held by Timothy at Ephesus, and by Titus at Crete. St. Paul’s language implies that the position which they held was temporary; they formed, as it were, the link between the Apostle whose superintendence was occasional, and the bishop whose rule was permanent.

We must rather seek some central idea if we would grasp the highest aim of the Episcopate: and we find that idea not in the outward framework of the Church, but in the truth which it enshrines: not in Apostolic order, however valuable, but in Apostolic doctrine: not in a succession of form, but in a succession of faith, ‘the faith once for all delivered to the saints.’ (Jude, 3.)

And this leads us to the text: in which the Apostle touches upon the official life, the personal life, the consecrated life of one who was called upon to discharge for a while Episcopal functions: ‘Take heed unto the doctrine:’ ‘Take heed unto thyself:’ ‘Continue in them:’ enforcing his exhortation by the promise, ‘for in doing this, thou shalt both save thyself and them that hear thee.’

The Official Life. ‘Take heed unto the doctrine.’

As believers in the Divine origin of Christianity, we assume that there was revealed to the Apostles a body of religious truth, definite, complete, unchangeable.

In the pastoral Epistles this distinctive body of truth is frequently referred to, as ‘the pattern of sound words’ (2 Tim. i. 13), ‘the sound (healthful) doctrine’ (1 Tim. i. 10; 2 Tim. iv. 3; Tit ii. 1), ‘the doctrine which is according to godliness’ (1 Tim. vi. 3), ‘the gospel of the glory of the blessed God’ (1 Tim. i. 11), ‘the good deposit’ (1 Tim. vi. 20; 2 Tim. i. 14); ἡ πίστις, τὸ χήρυγμα, according to the gloss of Chrysostom; Catholicæ fidei talentum.

Of this body of truth, Divine in its origin, and invested with Divine authority, two things may be predicated; first, that it is unchanged and unchangeable; secondly, that it is embodied in the Articles and Formularies of the Church of England.

It may be allowed that in all ages change has been the law of human affairs. But it is a mistake to associate this law of change with the central truths of Christianity; and for this reason, that Christianity is founded upon facts, upon events that have actually taken place; and if these facts are incapable of change, then are the doctrines which are founded upon them incapable of change also. Men may seek to sweep away the objective reality of Christianity; but, failing as they do in this, then inasmuch as the facts upon which Christianity reposes have been already wrought, and cannot be undone, the Gospel which we preach partakes of the immutability of those facts, and is alike unchangeable.

Equally certain is it, that the great Christian truths which were held in apostolic and primitive days, are identical with those which are embodied in the teaching of the Church of England.

True indeed we are liable to attack. We are met on the one side by the champions of scientific scepticism, and on the other, by the adherents of modern Rome; the one seeking to destroy the historical basis of our faith, the other to press upon us conclusions for which we find no warrant in God’s written word.

It would seem, however, that as the science of attack developes itself, the science of defence receives from unexpected quarters fresh accessions of strength.

If modern research tends to show that some portions of the outworks of Christianity are less strong than had been supposed, it proves with rigorous precision that the fortress itself is impregnable. Every ruin that is uncovered, every site that is identified, every inscription that is deciphered, confirms the historical veracity of the sacred writers. The Bible is made an object of ridicule, and the very stones cry out in condemnation; the statements of inspiration are denied, and witness after witness rises up to prove them; the voices of eager sceptics proclaim the overthrow of revelation, and there come to us from across those Eastern plains such voices from the buried past as prove their boast to be vain.

Nor is it only when arguing with the sceptic that we claim the testimony of modern research; we call the same witness to our aid when dealing with the errors of Rome and her imitators.

The most important of recent discoveries in the domain of early Christian literature is that made by the Greek Bishop Briennios in the library of the Holy Sepulchre in Constantinople.

The lost fragment of the Epistle of Clement is thus recovered, and with the aid of a recently discovered version of the name Epistle, learned men can now restore almost in its entirety the most venerable of uninspired Christian writings.2

Read that Epistle, and you find that it teaches plainly the doctrines of the Trinity, the Atonement, Justification by faith, and other distinctive doctrines of our Church. It is important for what it teaches; but it is almost equally important for what it does not teach. Silence is sometimes more eloquent than words; and certainly the fact that the Epistle of Clement is absolutely silent upon the prominent doctrines of modern Rome proves that those doctrines were unknown at the close of the first century. Is it possible that the doctrines of papal infallibility, transubstantiation, the sacrifice of the mass, the worship of the Virgin, and the like, could have existed in the days of Clement, and yet have been passed over by him in absolute silence? Whilst as regards those questions which agitate our own Church, the teaching of the epistle upon sacrifice, its freedom from sacerdotalism, the absence in it of all reference to priestly mediation and the confessional, strongly confirms the Protestant view of Christian faith and practice.

A sacred deposit of Christian truth existed then in the days of the apostles.

Timothy is solemnly charged to ‘preach’ it (2 Tim. iv. 1, 2); to ‘keep’ it (2 Tim. i. 14); to ‘hold it fast’ (v. 13); to guard it jealously against those who would tamper with its integrity, or substitute in its place the inventions of men. (1 Tim. i. 3; vi. 20.) Nor is he only to watch over it himself, he is to commit the teaching of it to trusty guardians: ‘The things which thou hast heard of me.. the same commit thou to faithful men, who shall be able to teach others also.’ (2 Tim. ii. 2.)

If, then, the Christian bishop possesses a glorious heritage of Divine truth, a privilege indeed which he shares with the humblest believer, he assumes also a special responsibility. As ‘the steward of God,’ he is pledged in the fullest sense of the term to ‘give heed unto the doctrine.’

The principle thus set forth is a plain one; but the application of the principle in these modern times is attended with no common difficulties. Perhaps we may find some clue to their solution if we draw a distinction between a bishop’s own personal beliefs and acts, and the beliefs and acts of others; between the toleration which he extends to others, and the toleration which he metes out to himself.

Certainly in three of the chief functions of the episcopal office, in teaching, in ordaining, in promoting, the bishop may adhere, nay, he must adhere with the utmost rigour to what he believes to be the truth of God.

In his charges, in his sermons, in all his public and private utterances, he will speak with faithfulness and courage: he will give no needless offence; he will respect the conscientious opinions of those who differ from him; he will fully recognise the somewhat elastic boundaries of our national Church; but as far as he himself is concerned, he will keep back nothing that is profitable.

Never surely was it of greater importance that our bishops should speak out plainly and boldly, than it is at this moment. The public mind is anxious. The air is charged with the subtle electricity of rumour. Of rumour, do I say? Nay, do not unhealthy facts stare us in the face? Facts which tell of the active forces of infidelity on the one hand, and on the other, of the existence within our own borders of a strong anti-Protestant spirit, and an evident sympathy with the doctrines and practices of Rome.

Brethren, this country is a Protestant country, and it means to remain so. The Church of England is a Protestant church, and we of this generation, God willing, mean her to remain so. We respect the opinions of others; but we are not ashamed of our own; we would do violence to no man’s faith, but we protest against the action of those who, holding positions of authority within our reformed church, are seeking to undermine the citadel, if not to hand it over to the enemy at the gate.

There is need of vigilance, wisdom, fidelity, courage in our spiritual rulers: but they lead a willing people. Never, I believe, were the laity of our Church more ready to hearken to the clear, incisive proclamation of distinctive truth: never more willing to welcome the doctrine of a free, full present salvation: never more anxious to stand by their bishops, if their bishops stand by the pure truth of God.

But the bishop ordains as well as teaches.

The limits of the Church of England are confessedly wide: – it is well that they should be so. Even her limits, perhaps, are narrower than those of the apostolic church; the spirit of exclusion has prevailed over that of comprehension. Still she is at this moment, to her discredit some would hold, to her honour many believe, the most comprehensive church in Christendom. Limits however do exist. It may be difficult precisely to define them. Yet surely the denial of the fundamental verities of our creeds, or the persistent teaching of the peculiar doctrines of Rome are not consistent with honest English churchmanship; and if those who exercise their ministry in the Church of England are found in either of these extremes, the question will be asked, how did they gain entrance to that ministry? No doubt opinions may change, and often do change after ordination; but it should surely be the aim of him who ‘gives heed unto the doctrine,’ to detect the latent seeds of evil, as well as to note them when they reach maturity. And thus to guard the avenue to the ministerial office with a firm though tolerant hand.

But once more, the modern bishop is the dispenser of patronage; and directly and indirectly he influences a large number of appointments in his diocese.

Now if, as a trustee of public property, he thinks last, not first, of private ends and personal interests; if, as a bishop of the whole diocese, not of any section of it, he ignores mere party claims and seeks out the best men from all schools of thought, he will yet surely give prominence to these three qualifications: first, that a man by holy living gives evidence of a truly converted heart; secondly, that his teaching faithfully reflects the leading truths of the Gospel, as received by our reformed Church; and lastly, that he has proved by hard work that be will not spare himself in his ministry.

In the discharge of these important functions the faithful bishop will ‘give heed unto the doctrine.’

But besides a bishop’s own personal beliefs and actions, he has to deal as a ruler in the Church with the beliefs and actions of others. And here, no doubt, his path is often an anxious one. As long as his clergy keep within the limits of law, of law interpreted not with the rigour of a criminal court but in the tolerant spirit of Christian charity, his duties in this department will be light. But if the law through negligence or through self-will be distinctly broken, the bishop is surely bound, so far as the law arms him with power, to vindicate its authority.

Perhaps indeed it is well in the interests of truth that the controversies which have been vexing our Church have somewhat shifted their ground; and that the question now is not so much concerning the colour of a vestment, or the precise position of the clergyman, as of the sacredness of family life, and the free access of the penitent to his God.

The public mind of this country is slow to recognise the importance of abstract doctrine, and is somewhat scornfully indifferent to the extravagancies of mediæval ritual. But when the working of a system is shown in practices which introduce the priest into the place of the Saviour – aye, and which threaten the very foundations of morality – public opinion raises its indignant protest, and demands that the evil shall be cast forth from our Church. Let all forbearance be shown to the honest perplexities of thought; but let not a church, which is Protestant to the core, ally herself with the enemies of the Reformation, or cherish within her bosom practices which are Scripturally indefensible, and morally wrong.

I venture, however, to think, that in cases which touch no moral ground, the wisdom of a sound expediency, as well as the spirit of the Gospel, suggest the anxious employment of every weapon of persuasion, of every influence which love can devise, before recourse be had to the harsh and repellent forms of law. Truth must ever be the great weapon of persuasion. Strife is an element alien to the Gospel. ‘The servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle unto all men.. in meekness instructing those that oppose themselves.’ (2 Tim. ii. 24, 25.)

I pass on from the official to —

The Personal Life of the bishop.

Very close is the connexion between the two lives.

‘Holding faith and a good conscience, which some having thrust away made shipwreck concerning the faith.’ (1 Tim. i. 19.)

‘Holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience.’ (1 Tim. iii. 9.)

‘Take heed unto thyself.’

It is a condensed enforcement of the counsels of verse 12, ‘Be thou an example of the believers in word, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity.’

It is needless to dwell upon the truth that a holy life is the best recommendation of holy doctrine, and that what gives force to the utterances of the Christian minister is the hidden fire of the spiritual life which burns within. And if this be true of the humblest of God’s servants, it is pre-eminently true of those who occupy high stations in the Church. If in one sense a bishop’s life is a protected life, a life guarded and shielded from many forms of temptation, it probably has its special and peculiar trials; and it only becomes a safe life, when it is lived as in the very presence of God.

And this brings us to the last of the three counsels of the text.

The Consecrated Life.

‘Continue in them.’

The words sound like an echo of those in the preceding verse: ‘Meditate upon these things; give thyself wholly to them’ (ver. 15). They are the ‘things’ of the official and personal life, the ministry of the word, and the cultivation of the life within. ‘In them continue;’ in them be wholly occupied and absorbed.

‘The longer I live,’ writes a layman, who did good service in his day, ‘the more I am certain that the great difference between men, between the feeble and the powerful, the great and the insignificant, is energy, invincible determination of purpose once fixed, and then death or victory.’ (Sir T. Fowell Buxton.)

And here I would claim for the clergy some consideration at the hands of others – some time for thought, for study, for meditation, for prayer.

When the Apostles declared with an emphasis, which after a lapse of eighteen centuries preserves all its freshness, ‘We will give ourselves continually to prayer, and to the ministry of the word’ (Acts, vi 4), they revealed to us the secret of their success.

But how hard is it to follow their steps. Living as we do in the midst of an advanced civilisation, surrounded by a network of activities which touches us on every side, it is difficult to resist the pressure of secular duties, and to vindicate the spiritual claims of the office which we hold. But whilst it is easy to protest against the secularisation of the Christian ministry, it is not so easy to point out the remedy. Each one must work out a deliverance for himself. Each one must map out his own life, and pursue his purpose stedfastly to the end.

Our leading journal, writing of the increase of the episcopate, observes that the ‘danger will be that bishops should allow themselves to be absorbed in the mere business and bustle of their work, and should neglect the more solid and silent part of their duties. The bishop must find time for constant intercourse with his books, for thought, and for mature preaching. He must make himself everywhere felt; but he must also reserve himself, and should be at least as conspicuous for judgment as for learning, and for moderation as for activity.’ (Times, June 13, 1877.)3

It is well that the public should recognise the sacredness, the spirituality of the episcopal office. No man, however able, can think, and study, and pray, if he is to live in a state of ceaseless location. Laity and clergy alike should remember that their bishops must have time for preparation, if their public utterances are to be worthy of the occasion; that nothing is so subtle as the processes of thought; nothing so laborious as the creative work of composition; and that one needless interruption may bring about a mental chaos, and throw into hopeless disorder the delicate machinery of the mind.

Note, lastly, THE ANIMATING PROMISE by which the threefold exhortation is enforced: —

‘For in doing this thou shalt save both thyself and them that hear thee.’

‘Thou salt save thyself.’ A selfish motive some will argue. Nay, not more selfish than it is to exist. It is selfish to pursue our own advantage at the expense of others. It is not selfish to wish our own highest goal: – the wish is bound up in our existence.

And again, the Christian’s wish is not for himself alone; it is not lonely, solitary affection. He longs for immortality for himself; he longs for it also on behalf of and in company with others. ‘It is not a selfish instinct,’ writes one of our deepest Christian thinkers, ‘it is not a neutral one, it is a moral and a generous one… Christianity knows nothing of a hope of immortality for the individual alone, but only of a glorious hope for the individual.. in the eternal society of the Church triumphant. (Mozley’s University Sermons, p. 71.)

Such, then, is the promise held out to the faithful minister. He ensures his own salvation; he helps forward the salvation of others. He aims at nothing short of this; and he knows that his ‘labour is not in vain in the Lord.’ (1 Cor. xv. 58.)

To the work thus briefly sketched our brother in Christ is now to be sent forth.

This much would I only add, that having wrought side by side with him in this great London for years now not a few, I can testify from no superficial knowledge, as with no common warmth of affection, to what I cannot but feel to be his special fitness for the work which lies before him.

If experience gathered in the past is any pledge for the future; if work well done during years of patient toil is any assurance that work shall be well done in years which may yet remain; if thoughtful, careful preaching of the word of life, and the successful administration of the largest metropolitan parishes is any warrant for expecting the continuation of such ministry in a wider field of labour; then will no common hopes gather round this now Episcopate. Nor has there been wanting that highest of all training, the training of personal affliction. If we are taught to-day in the martyrdom of St. James, that the law of self-surrender is the law of ministerial success; if the voiceless tomb of the one Apostle and the silent dungeon of the other were the forerunners of the Church’s most rapid growth, when ‘the word of God grew and multiplied’ (Acts, xii. 24); the ministry of one, who has been taught in the same school, will issue, we may humbly hope, in a like result.

Our Church claims to have inherited Apostolic doctrine, an Apostolic framework, and a history which dates from the Apostolic age. The ninety-eighth occupant of the See of Rochester can boast of a long and distinguished spiritual ancestry. Founded in 604, some ten years after the landing of Augustine, the See is, with the single exception of that of Canterbury, the most ancient in the kingdom; and has numbered amongst its Bishops such eminent men as Paulinus the apostle of Northumberland; Gundulph, the greatest of Norman architects; Cardinal Fisher, beheaded by Henry VIII.: Ridley, the martyr; Turner, the non-juror; Atterbury, the high-churchman; and Samuel Horsley, the mathematician, the orator, and the divine. The See of Rochester carries with it therefore, the prestige of a venerable antiquity; but its interest to-day lies not so much in the records of the past, as in the living wants of the present.

Across the river which divides our city, lies a vast and dense population, soon to form part of this ancient diocese. Faithful men have been labouring there for years. The new Bishop goes forth amongst them, to guide, to stimulate, to encourage, and to strengthen.

He will remember, as having enjoyed the liberty himself, that in the words of one whose name is warmly cherished in this place, ‘the independent and quasi episcopal position of the rector is one of the most blessed safeguards of the Church of England’ (Kingsley’s Life, ii. 80): but he will also remember that a wise and tolerant rule is quite consistent with personal and official fidelity.

He will remember too, aye, he will never be ashamed of confessing those great evangelical doctrines which have ever been the joy and strength of his ministry.

It is the fashion with some to sneer at those doctrines, as belonging to a byegone age, as the fossil remains of an era, when light was scanty and intelligence rare.

Brethren, there were giants in those days. Are we quite sure that there are any giants now?

If it be indeed a mark of narrow-mindedness to aim in all our teaching at the exaltation of the Saviour; if it be a mark of narrow-mindedness to preach the universality of human corruption, the absolute perfection of the redemptive work of Christ, and the regenerating power of the Holy Ghost; then must we plead guilty to the charge.

But may not the caution addressed by Bishop Horsley to his clergy upon the subject of Calvinism be applicable with slight change in these modern days? ‘Take care before you aim your shafts at’ Evangelical Churchmanship, ‘that you know what it is, and what it is not.. lest when you mean only to fall foul of a human system, you should unwarily attack something more sacred and of higher origin.’ (Horsley’s Charges, p. 226.)