Tag Archives: Anglican Communion

LC08 : The Bishops have come!



Well they’ve only gone and done it.

The pile of bishops arrived today, finding themselves, bewildered, in the University of Kent’s equivalent to Heathrow Terminal 5:
The University of Kent\'s equivalent to Heathrow Terminal 5

Once meeted, they were greeted (with “difficult” bishops being identified by specially trained volunteers)

The difficult bishops have been identified by specially trained volunteers

The volunteers had to deal with refugee quantities of luggage:

(Not every bishop can afford those lightweight, collapsible mitres).

To find their way around the campus a system of Aramaic insignia has been devised (based upon textual variations in the Dead Sea Scrolls) — very clear as I’m sure you’d agree:

The “World’s Greatest Living Ecclesiastical Conference Cartoonist” will soon be plying his wares from this des res:

Some bishops have already found themselves, curiously, at home:

Others were being “inculturated” into the fine English tradition of queuing:

Some bishops’ wives (or perhaps she is a bishop herself?) remembered that there is a garden party at Buckingham Palace coming up:

Tomorrow…

into retreat!




LC08 : The Bishops are coming! The Bishops are coming!



Canterbury Cathedral from the university hillThose of you who have followed the link (to the left) to the church where I am allowed more than three minutes, will have discovered that my parish incorporates the campus of the University of Kent at Canterbury. Something seems to be happening at UKC; all sorts of activity is going on, at a time of the year when we should be enjoying the peaceful absence of students.

Normally well-informed sources tell me that “the bishops are coming! the bishops are coming!” This can’t possibly be correct. Hundreds of bishops from all over the world descending upon a poor rector’s parish? This is boundary crossing of the most egregious kind! And nobody has asked my opinion on the matter, let alone my permission!

If the Anglican Communion has really descended into the worst kind of transgressions in this way, then I, for one, am prepared to document it. Stay tuned to 3 Minute Theologian over the coming three weeks and see if these episcopal rumours are true. Find out what cross-border incursions actually look like (when togged up to an impossible degree)!

In the meantime, this is what the calm before the storm looks like:

The Circus tent in Rutherford College Carpark, where the bishops are alleged to be meeting
A circus tent has appeared in the car park of Rutherford College. Allegedly this is where the bishops are supposed to be meeting. In a circus tent? Surely not!

A labyrinth is being built overlooking the Cathedral
A labyrinth is being built overlooking the Cathedral– difficult bishops will be shown into the labyrinth, without the directions on how to get out.

The Senate House of the University

The Senate House of the University, in which we find…

The Prayer Space

…the Conference “Prayer Space”.

(Not yet finished because a carpenter needs to come to install 800 bishops’ thrones).

Keep your eyes posted here for more “Signs of Life at Lambeth”™.




Dr Rowan Williams and “The Now Show”

It comes to something when the affairs of the Anglican Communion become the stuff of light satirical comedy; it is even stranger when the satirical comedy is pointedly favourable towards the Archbishop of Canterbury.

UK listeners might have heard “The Now Show” on BBC Radio 4 last weekend. If so, then you will have been delighted by Mitch Benn’s song in support of Dr Rowan Williams (“who knows which bits of the bible are no longer true”). If you haven’t discovered the “Listen Again” facility on the BBC’s website, then this is for you:

Lord knows there are many of us who wish the song were true!

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible

If you haven’t already discovered Fr Christian Troll and his commentary on the world from a GAFCON perspective, then you must:

Since tomorrow is Big Pete Akinola’s official welcome to the “pilgrims” in Jerusalem, it’s less than a day before everything really takes off. My only disappointment has been learning that Bishop Venables has not yet shown up, and appears to have copied my strategy. I should have known better than to trust my advice to a man who can claim three alpacas and llama comprise a bona-fide congregation.

Anglican Roots : 1784 Samuel Seabury consecrated first American bishop



So far, the acute-eyed among you will have noted, that in this series about Anglican Roots, as we prepare for the Lambeth Conference of the world-wide Anglican Communion, we have heard very little about the world beyond the Tweed, the Severn, the Irish Sea or the English Channel. A lot of what we have said has been about the Church in England as well as the Church of England. Where did this W.W.A.C. come from then?

It certainly didn’t come from the Church of England’s own self-understanding. As we have seen, the most consistent thread throughout the Church of England’s history is that it is self-governing and autonomous, in as much as the sovereign, the chief magistrate of the realm, allows it to be: “no king, no bishops” and no Church of England. How would that work in lands which weren’t ruled directly by the king, in the new trading posts and colonies which began to emerge in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century?

Stuck in Frobisher Bay with FrobisherThe first Church of England service to be held outside the lands of the English crown was a celebration of Holy Communion at Frobisher Bay on 3 September 1578, presided over by Robert Wolfall, chaplain to the exploration voyage of Martin Frobisher. The first service within the lands which later became the United States was probably in a bay in Oregon on 19 June 1579 when the crew of the Golden Hind and Sir Francis Drake landed to repair the ship. Attempts were made to set up permanent settlements on the west coast of North America in the later years of the sixteenth century, but all failed until the settlement of Jamestown in Virginia in 1607. The Church of England was designated the established church there in 1609, in the lower part of New York in 1693, in Maryland in 1702, in South Carolina in 1706, in North Carolina in 1730, and in Georgia in 1758.

But what did “established” mean in this context? It certainly didn’t mean “bishops”. The parishes were expected to be self-financing and largely self-governing. The Bishop of London, William Laud, was appointed in 1632 to over see the overseas churches in the king’s dominions, but he was never expected to visit the parishes(!). Instead he ruled by commissaries, and, for many years, this light touch governance seemed successful. By the time of the American Revolution in 1776, there were perhaps 400 parishes in the American colonies. But it was built on thin roots. Most of the parishes were served by priests sent out from England; there were very few local men ordained priest— the long months of sea voyage to England to find a bishop to ordain them was a strong disincentive.

And then came the Revolution. How was a Church which placed so much emphasis on loyalty to the King to deal with a Revolution which overthrew the authority of that King? By 1783, when the War of Independence ended, almost 80,000 loyalists had left the colonies, most (50,000 or more), heading for Canada. By 1790, in a nation of four million, Anglicans were reduced to about ten thousand; in Virginia, for example, of the 107 parishes which existed in 1784, fewer than 42 were able to support a priest between 1802 and 1811.1 Others, who wanted a balance between national loyalty and religious conviction, attempted to find another way. Samuel Tingley, an SPG missionary in Delaware and Maryland, attempted vagueness (a very Anglican solution!): rather than praying “O Lord, save the King” in the Office, substituted “O Lord, save those whom thou hast made it our especial Duty to pray for.”

In 1783 the Clergy Convention of Connecticut recognised that if the church in America couldn’t have a king, it still needed bishops. They elected Samuel Seabury to be bishop, and like Don Quixote, he left home on a voyage to seek consecration.

Samuel SeaburySeabury was a colonist, born in Groton, Connecticut, in 1729. He trained as theologian at Yale College and then as a doctor at the University of Edinburgh. Whilst in the United Kingdom he sought ordination, and returned to the colonies as a missionary for the SPG. When the War broke out he resigned his living in Westchester, New York, and served in private medical practice and as chaplain to the British army. And yet when the war ended, he had remained in the United States. He was unsuccessful in finding an English bishop who would ordain him. They were reluctant to interfere in the affairs of an enemy nation, and anyway, the canons required the newly consecrated bishop to swear an oath of loyalty to the Crown, something that Seabury as an American was manifestly unable to do.

Disappointed, he travelled north, and discovered in the Scottish Episcopal Church three bishops willing to do the deed: at the time the Episcopal Church in Scotland was (amazingly) not in communion with the Church of England: it was made up of non-juring bishops, who had refused the oath of loyalty to William of Orange. They had strong Jacobite sympathies. Consecrating Seabury would be one in the eye for German George (III) and his bishops. On 14 November 1784, Samuel Seabury was consecrated the first bishop of the Episcopal Church of the United States, and the first colonist (ie, non-Englishman, not working within the Church of England) to the episcopacy. As such, his consecration marked the beginning of the world-wide Church of England, otherwise, and more accurately known as the Anglican Communion. (Incidentally, the English Parliament concerned that this marked the beginning of some fiendish Jacobite religious plot to overthrow the English crown, cleared the way for future consecrations to happen in England by removing the requirement for the oath of loyalty).

A word about a word

Finally, a word about a word; Anglicanism. Although, as we have seen “Anglican” appeared, sort of, in Magna Carta, and a play on the word appeared in the story of Pope Gregory the Great and the Angel-Angels, the grammarians among you will have noted that Magna Carta used “Anglican” as an adjective: the “English Church”. When did “Anglicanism” emerge as a proper noun?

Perhaps you would like to have a guess.

The earliest that the OED can date the use of the word “Anglican” to mean characteristic or defining of the established Church of England is [drum roll please] … 1838.

John Henry Newman, in the journal The British Critic said this:

The heroine… after going through the phases of Protestantism… .seeks for something deeper and truer in Anglicanism, or, as Mr. Palmer more correctly speaks in his recent work, Anglo-Catholicism.

Shortly after defining the word he left the Church.

The next use of the word was in 1846 by Charles Kingsley in a letter:

Decent Anglicanism… having become the majority is now quite Conservative.

The reason the word was only coined so late in the church’s history has been noted by Stephen Sykes:

… the very concept of ‘Anglicanism’ itself has a history. It was invented in the nineteenth century, possibly as an English adaptation of the (French) ‘Gallicanisme’, an anti-papal tendency within French Catholicism… ‘Anglicanism’ is a term with no fixed content and it can be, and has been, used in a more or less blatantly one-sided way in the course of its history.2

In other words, beware of someone using the word “Anglican” in unfamiliar surroundings. It might not mean what you expect it to mean.




  1. David Hein and Gardiner H. Shattuck, Jr. The Episcopalians (New York: Church Publishing, 2004). []
  2. Stephen Sykes, ‘The Genius of Anglicanism’ in Unashamed Anglicanism, p. 219. []

Anglican Roots : 1604 The Hampton Court Conference



The Elizabeth Settlement of 1559 was no such thing. It was the Elizabethan Truce, and a truce which became increasingly out of date over the course of her long reign. The enemy at the beginning of her reign was, as we have seen, the papalists: those who wanted to bring England back into communion with Rome. By the 1590s it was the Puritans: those more radical Christians who wanted to take the examples of reformation to be found in Zurich and Geneva and apply them to England.

There was another example of a thoroughly reformed church, closer to home. The Church of Scotland, by law established, was presbyterian in governance and doctrine, “one of the best reformed churches”1. Perhaps when the King of Scotland became King of England as well he might bring some of his presbyterian ethos with him. Elizabeth died in 1603, and James VI of Scotland became James I of England. Even while he was travelling south the Puritans of England approached him. They presented him with the Millenary Petition, so-called because it was supposed to have been signed by a thousand ministers. The Petition was, as these things go, moderate and peaceful. The petitioners wanted a number of catholic hangovers from the Elizabethan Settlement to be finally removed from Church of England worship:

  • the sign of the cross at baptism
  • forbidding the administration of women at baptism (ie in emergencies)
  • making the cap and surplice optional
  • abolition of the ring in the marriage service
  • restrictions on the use of music in worship
  • forbidding kneeling at the name of Jesus

There were some other, godly, proposals. The Puritans wanted ministers to hold one living only, and not many parishes in plurality; that people should not be excommunicated for “trifles and twelve-penny matters”, and that only learned men, “able and sufficient”, should be admitted to ministry.

The Puritans didn’t know two things about James. First, he loved a good debate. Second, he had no intention of allowing any reforms which questioned, even remotely, the status of the monarch. To the consternation of the Bishops, he said that the Petition deserved a good discussion. Some Puritans took this as a sign of the King’s favour and began petitioning for more radical reforms. This had the expected effect on the Church: reaction. All Puritan agitating was condemned, and Archbishop Whitgift undertook a survey of all dissenters and sectaries within the province of Canterbury: know where your enemies might be.

The Conference met at Hampton Court Palace, the home of Wolsey and Henry VIII, in January 1604. The English Bishops were represented by Richard Bancroft, Bishop of London and soon to be Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Puritans by John Rainolds, fellow of Corpus Christi, Oxford, Dean of Lincoln, tutor to Richard Hooker and former Roman Catholic. The conference was run amicably, although it soon became apparent to the Puritans that James was more interested in arguments than outcomes. The king agreed to act against ministers not being resident in their parishes, and to improve the quality of preaching (OffPreach?), but he had no intention of budging on church discipline and ceremonies. Rainolds made a tactical error when he recommended the king set up a synod of bishops and presbyters to determine contested issues in the church. This so infuriated James that he walked out of the room, snapping ‘No bishop, no king’ as he went.

Various bits and pieces were agreed upon; commissions were to be set up to tinker with certain small reforms, only one of which was every achieved; an agreement to produce one uniform translation of the Bible led directly to the Authorised Version of 1611: the so-called “King James Bible”, which is so much a defining possession of the English speaking world.

Two different, ideologically determined translations were in use in the Church of England at the time: the Geneva Bible (with its biased explanatory notes in the margins) and the Bishop’s Bible (1568). James entrusted the task to Bancroft, who formed a network of committees to produce the new translation: six committees of fifty-four scholars in all, meeting in Oxford, Cambridge, and the Jerusalem Chamber of Westminster Abbey. They took as their starting point the earliest English translations of William Tyndale and was completed in five years.

Looking at the way the AV has been worshipped subsequently, it is interesting to see how little loved it was when it first appeared. It was said to be filled with ‘uncouth and obsolete expressions’, and to have ‘all the disadvantages of an old prose translation’. It wasn’t until 1760 that it had completely superceded the Bishop’s Bible or the Geneva Bible as the standard English translation (which is why Book of Common Prayer of 1662 uses Coverdale’s Great Bible translation of the psalter). Curiously, it was never “Authorized”.




  1. Kenneth Hylson-Smith, The Churches in England from Elizabeth I to Elizabeth II: 1558-1688 v. 1 (London: SCM Press, 1996), p. 94 []

Anglican Roots : 1534 Henry, Supreme Head



We cannot escape the fact the Church of England as we know it came into being because of the will, whims, and cruelties of Henry Tudor, the eighth king of that name. The Church of England is not solely a product of Henry’s need for a divorce, but the gulf between the way the church was in the 1520s and the way the church was in the 1550s is stupendous: the way a church building was laid out, the way in which it was decorated, the language spoken in the church, the legal framework which compelled you to worship, the pattern of the church’s year, even the landscape of the country— all were unimaginably altered.
And this was caused by a loyal, thoughtful, conscientious Catholic: Henry VIII.

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Anglican Roots : 1215 Magna Carta



We have all heard of Magna Carta, although, like Tony Hancock we might be a little hazy on when and why and what it was for.

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Anglican Roots : 664 The Synod of Whitby



We are looking at the origins and history of the Church of England and the Anglican Communion, to understand better where we have come from so as to understand better where it is that God wants us to be. As part of this process we will look at eight dates, four movements and four significant inheritances from the 1600+ year history of the CofE: the dates may not always be the most obvious, but each date, perversely chosen by me, has some lasting significance for the way the CofE/AC might be today.1 Continue reading




  1. If you need some historical context for these dates, then look at Ed Friedlander’s Anglican Timeline, published by the Anglican Society of St Justus, which is useful, eccentric and has an unacknowledged debt to David Edwards’s Christian England (London : Fount, 1989; combined ed. with new prefaces; originally published in 3 vols 1981, 1983, 1984). []

Anglican Roots : Four justifications for the exercise



The intention for this series, based on a study day held on Pentecost Eve in Canterbury, is simply this:

Too often we know too little about where we have come from (the history of our church), and because of that, we know too little about where we are going (the future of our church).

Perhaps this doesn’t convince you: you might think that we should be concentrating on the challenges of the present and the future, rather than doing the naval gazing of looking over where we have come from? After all, we all know that history is bunk, don’t we?

And yet, there is something profound, vital even, which is lost if we don’t know where we come from. I propose to give four justifications for undertaking a “rooting exercise” in understanding who or what Anglicans might be.

The first justification comes from a most curious source, a Franco-Jewish radical, trade unionist, philosopher and professional troublemaker: this woman, Simone Weil— born in 1909 in Paris, died in 1943 in (of all places) Ashford, Kent.

Simone Weil, 1909-1943Weil was one of the most original, brilliant, intense, and enigmatic thinkers of the twentieth century. Born to a family of notional Jewish heritage, Weil placed much more emphasis on left wing political activity. At the age of six she refused to take sugar in solidarity with the suffering of the French soldiers on the Western Front. As an adult she became active in the trade union and workers’ education movements in France. Her fierce moral earnestness and certainty earned her the nickname “the Categorical Imperative in skirts”. She was a pacifist until the rise of fascism in Spain, when she briefly served with the Republican forces before her physical frailty and ineptitude made her such a liability (she gave herself second degree burns over a cooking fire!) that she reluctantly returned to France. She worked as a manual labourer on farms and in the Renault car factory, until the outbreak of the Second World War and the Nazi occupation of France. Weil sought ways to be involved in the Resistance, but at risk because of her Jewish ancestry, she was forced to flee France, and in 1942, after a short detour in the US, she finally settled in London. Determined to share in the privations of the people she had left behind, and further weakened by overwork, and overcome by self-doubt and depression, When she died in August 1943 she was just thirty-four. She was buried in Bybrook Cemetery, where her grave can be seen today.

In 1942 she had been invited by the Free French government in London to consider what would be needed for the reconstruction of France following liberation from Nazi control (this was back in the days when governments did post-war planning). Her thoughts were articulated in this work, L’Enraincement, which was published posthumously in 1949, and translated into English in 1952 under the title The Need for Roots. This is what Simone had to say about the title:

To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul. It is one of the hardest to define. A human being has roots by virtue of his real, active and natural participation in the life of a community which preserves in living shape certain particular treasures of the past and certain particular expectations for the future. This participation is a natural one, in the sense that it is automatically brought about by place, conditions of birth, profession and social surroundings. Every human being needs to have multiple roots. It is necessary for him to draw wellnigh the whole of his moral, intellectual and spiritual life by way of the environment of which he forms a natural part.1

All of which is true, if a little dry.

If you need more persuading, then let’s try something English. Steve Knightley and Phil Beer, otherwise known as the incomparable Show of Hands, produced an album in 2005 called Witness. The single taken from the album, “Roots”, expressed the perennial frustration of the English folk musician, working in a time and culture which seems to have forgotten all its own songs.

Which is what Anglican Roots is all about (in a way)2.

Some of you might still uncomfortable with the justifications I have produced for studying our roots; a French radical and an English folk group. Would a bishop do?

Stephen Sykes, formerly Bishop of Ely, wrote:

… it is a mistake to think that if one is English one has no need to study this history [Anglicanism]. A Church which has not examined its past, with the best methods of analysis and interpretation open to it, is liable to misinterpret its present situation. We live from our memories as well as our hopes, and our accustomed way of telling our own story needs to be purged of vanity and illusion.3

Some of you might even feel that a bishop is not justification enough for such a historical exercise. Well then, will these words do?

“… the parable is this: The seed is the word of God. The ones on the path are those who have heard; then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved. The ones on the rock are those who, when they hear the word, receive it with joy. But these have no root; they believe only for a while and in a time of testing fall away.4

Remembering where we have come from, in a way which unpeels (perhaps) some layers of myth, falsehood and ignorance, so that we might have some kind of better idea of where we are, so that we might be open to hearing God tell us where we are to be.




  1. Simone Weil, The Need for Roots (London: Routledge & Paul, 1952). Part Two : Uprootedness, p. 41 []
  2. Visit the Show of Hands website and download the full length video for yourself— and then the rest of their albums. You won’t regret it! []
  3. Stephen Sykes, ‘The Genius of Anglicanism’ in Unashamed Anglicanism, (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1995) p. 219. []
  4. Luke 8:11-13Open Link in New Window []