Foundations of the Church of England CXXX

The original Tractarians were interested not so much in ritual in as in refocusing the Church of England on its Patristic heritage which had been somewhat overwhelmed, on the right by the evangelical revival of the Low Church in the wake of Methodism and, on the left, by the rationalism of the Enlightenment.  The revival of ritualism in the Church of England after the publishing of the Tracts For The Times  is more a by-product of the Tracts than an effect, but it is the revival of ritualism that has come to define the Tractarians in particular and the Oxford Movement in general.  Within twenty years of the Tracts chasubles, thuribles, crucifixes and even monstrances were make their reappearance from Yorkshire to Cornwall. 

Ritualism gained ground for a variety of reasons and probably the most significant one was Sir Walter Scott.  England was being swept by a romantic revival that in reaction to the Enlightenment contempt for the Middle Ages, looked upon the Medieval world as infinitely fascinating and even as the apogee of Western civilization.  To the romantic mind anything medieval not only had an irresistible draw, but was ipso facto infinitely superior to anything modern.  In art the pre-Raphaelite school became the heart and soul of Victorian taste.  In architecture, it was the neo-gothic of Pugin and Sir Charles Barry.  And this overflowed into the Church with an incredible abandonment of the Puritan contempt for all traces of papism. 

A second factor in the success of the Ritualists was their willingness to take posts that no one else wanted, usually because the salaries were deemed insufficient by the more ambitious clergy or because the ministry was among the working or lower classes.  Many parishes, including those that in the nineteenth century served the working classes had sufficient endowments to support clergy and even to pay for the liturgical gewgaws required for ritual upgrades, but, especially in the new industrial cities, there were many parishes that did not.   Clergy who had independent means—and not an inconsiderable number did—did not have to rely on the parish for support—or for approval of their liturgical innovations.  Ritualists actually got a reputation for working among the under-classes and this enhanced their reputation—especially among the politically liberal sections of society.  William Gladstone, three-times Prime Minister, was perhaps the most notable liberal politician supportive of the Ritualist Restoration.  Lord Halifax (Charles  Wood, 2^nd Viscount Halifax) was another.  

One person who was not supportive—to the contrary was so anti-ritualist that the bishops dare wear only their black chimeres over their rochets when officiating in her presence—was Queen Victoria whose taste in liturgics ran to the Presbyterianism of the Church of Scotland.  Victoria was ever-mindful that she was a Protestant Sovereign reigning over a Protestant England but ultimately, much like her predecessor, Elizabeth I, was not able to exercise her influence over Church ceremony far beyond her own chapel.  Similarly while many of the old aristocratic families clung to low-Church tastes, the new blood and new money was quite gung-ho for smells and bells. 

The ritualist revival drove a deeper and more clear wedge between the High Church and the Low Church.  Just entering a church or seeing its clergy vested told you exactly where they stood.  Before the ritualist revival, liturgy was fairly standard throughout England; as a result or the revival it ran the spectrum from low church quasi-dissent to high church quasi-Romanism.

The apogee of Ritualism was All Saint’s Margaret Street.  It had begun as a dissenters’ chapel in the 18^th century, plain and Spartan in its architecture, later coming into communion with the Established Church.  In 1829 William Dodsworth was named as incumbent.  Dodsworth was a Low Church Evangelical who was converted to High Churchmanship by the Tracts for the Times and won his congregation over to the Tractarian position.  Dodsworth eventually “swam the Tiber” and became a Roman Catholic.  He was succeeded by Frederick Oakeley who also—as a result of the Gorham Case—would become a Catholic but not before proposing that the chapel be rebuilt in a more suitable, i.e. pre-Reformation, style and raised £30,000 (today about 3.2 million dollars) for the project. 

Oakley’s successor, William Upton Richards, decided to see the project through and enlisted the assistance of the Cambridge Camden Society, to build the quintessential Anglo-Catholic house of worship.  The result was an exuberant tribute to romantic eclecticism.  Inside is a kaleidoscope of mosaic, glass, painting, marble and tile.  The Church is fitted out with brocaded dossals and antependia, gorgeous vestments and sacred vessels, candelabra, and altar crosses on a scale worthy of a Spanish cathedral.  The final cost was over £70,000 (or approximately 8 million USD in today’s money.  There was an attached school to provide the choristers for services and a parish house. 

Just as an aside, All Saint’s Margaret Street has a reputation for being not only “gay-friendly,” but “gay swamped.”  Years ago I read an amusing little book by Father Colin Stephenson entitled Merrily on High.  It is an entertaining, if campy, collection of anecdotes about some of the second and third generation leading lights of the Oxford Movement were    There has always been a gay subtext to ritualism.   This is not to accuse any individual of inappropriate behavior—indeed the moral tone set by the early Tractarians, both married and celibate, set a standard that remained unbroken for over a century.  Nevertheless, high-Church parishes such as All Saints, Saint Mary the Virgin in New York, The Church of the Advent (Boston), and Ascension/Saint Agnes in Washington all have easily accommodated themselves to the more liberal views of the Anglican and Episcopal Churches in their respective countries wile correspondingly low-Church congregations such as Saint Helen’s Bishopsgate in London, The Falls Church (Falls Church, VA), or many of the parishes associated with the various new Anglican fellowships in the United States would take a more conservative approach to LGBT parishioners.  Ironically the Church could survive the doctrinal and liturgical divergences created by Tractarianism, but are finding themselves torn apart on contemporary social issues such as the inclusion of women and of LGBT people.  

Foundations of the Anglican Church CXXIX

George Cornelius Gorham

Well, back to the Anglicans for a posting or two.  I had mentioned that the Oxford Movement did not begin about liturgical practices but about a return to patristic theology and doctrinal orthodoxy as opposed to the influences of 19^th century skepticism and liberalism which were threatening the Church.  Gregory XVI and Pius IX were able to control these threats by decree (and vindictive punishment) in the Catholic Church, but the Church of England had only the Sovereign (and, for practical purposes, that meant Parliament, a religiously heterogeneous assortment of miscreants at best) to preserve its doctrinal integrity.  The voices of Oxford were an internal “from the grass-roots up” reform of the Church and it was, overall, quite successful when you consider the odds it was facing.  As a result of the Oxford push for a High Church polity that went far beyond where Laud would have ever dared, the Church of England polarized a bit between the High Church patristic theologians and the Low Church Evangelical theologians, but liberalism (the nasty sort represented by the Earl of Shaftsbury and the rationalists) was effectively purged from the Church for almost a century and a half. 

An interesting occurrence in the Church of England at this time gives us a glimpse of the theological liberalism from which the Oxford Movement was able to preserve the Church of England. 

George Cornelius Gorham was a priest of the Church of England.  He had graduated from Queen’s College, Cambridge, with honors in Mathematics in 1805 and was ordained priest for the Church of England in 1811 despite the Bishop’s (Thomas Dampier of Ely) concern for his orthodoxy.  In particular Gorham denied the doctrine of Baptismal regeneration—that the newly baptized, by virtue of the Sacrament, was “reborn” and incorporated into the Body of Christ, the Church.  Gorham’s objections were based on a curious mixture of Calvinism and rationalism.  The theological implication of his view is that sacraments are only what we make of them and are not God’s promise and deliverance of grace.  This is the problem with the ambiguities of the Anglican tradition—the pacific avoidance of clear doctrinal stands leaves open the possibilities of un-orthodox interpretations.  Gorham didn’t have a particularly successful career in the Church, he was almost 60 years old when he was finally given a parish of his own, St. Just in Penwith and that was in Cornwall.  Bishop of Exeter, Henry Phillpotts (of whom we heard in the surplice riots) seemed to have no reason to refuse him a pulpit despite his liberal theology.  However, only a year later when Gorham was presented for the living of Saint Peter’s Church, Bramford Speke, Phillpotts refused to institute him parish on account of Gorham’s theological stance.  Gorham appealed to an ecclesiastical court which upheld Bishop Phillpott’s decision. Gorham then appealed over the Church to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council.  This was a dramatic move because it took a matter of doctrine from the jurisdiction of the Church and appealed to a governmental body for a decision.  Gorham was vindicated by the Privy Council but almost a score of prominent Anglicans left the Church of England—mostly for the Catholic Church—as a result, rejecting the idea that the temporal power had authority in matters spiritual.  Bishop Phillpott was so incensed that he threated to excommunicate any bishop—including the Archbishop of Canterbury—who might come to institute Gorham in his new living.  Instituted or not Gorham took up the living and remained there the remaining nine years or so of his life.  He carried out considerable restoration work in the Church, a project for which “no hard feelings” Phillpott contributed. 

The Gorham case gives us insight into various issues that troubled—and some which continue to trouble—the Church of England.  As a State Church the Government has immense influence over the Church—appointing bishops and, at least in the past, needing to approve changes in the Liturgy.  Given that all members of the Cabinet, much less Parliament, are not required to be Anglicans this becomes rather bizarre.  

Sometimes Religious Syncretism Works

Seventeenth-century altar rail in
an English (Anglican) Church

For many Catholics who are disturbed by the liturgical changes of the last fifty or so years one of the most upsetting has been the removal of the altar rails from their parish churches.  What many do not know, of course, is that the altar rail has its origins in the Protestant reformation. 

We can tell from reading the Fathers of the Church that the practice of receiving Holy Communion for at least the first seven centuries was—as it remained and still is in the Eastern Churches—for the communicant to present himself or herself standing to the priest at the foot of the altar.  In the very early centuries, let us say from apostolic times up until perhaps the seventh century, it was expected that all present would receive Holy Communion.  (Those who were not eligible—catechumens and penitents—had been dismissed after the sermon.)  However, as through missionary efforts Christianity spread northward into what is today Germany, England, the Low Countries, Austria, and eventually Scandinavia and Poland, and as the various “Barbarian” tribes swept down into Italy, the large number of poorly catechized converts saw a dramatic decline in the numbers of those who received Holy Communion.  Many never received at all.  An exaggerated emphasis on the need for Sacramental Confession before receiving Holy Communion and the imposition of very strict Communion Fasts also contributed to the decline in people receiving.  The situation became so desperate that in 1215 the Fourth Lateran Council had to mandate that Christians must receive at least once a year and that during the period from Septugesima until the Octave of Pentecost—the Lent-Easter season.  Even then many never received the Sacrament from their first Communion until their deathbeds.  Communions became so rare that they were often separated from Mass with people receiving from the Reserved Sacrament in the Tabernacle before Mass or after Mass.  Indeed it was not rare for there to be no “Communion of the faithful” at Mass, with only the priest receiving.

In such cases those few receiving Holy Communion would present themselves kneeling in one of the smaller chapels of a large church or at a side altar of the main church before or after Mass.  Kneeling became a common practice after the seventh century as the Church more and more stressed the need for penance and demanded of communicants a penitential posture. 

Tourists and pilgrims visiting Rome are often surprised how few churches in the ancient city, and none of the old churches, have communion rails.  That is because of this practice of receiving outside of Mass.  With only four or five people receiving on any occasion—and often as few as one—the communicants would approach the priest one by one, kneel and receive Holy Communion.  The Rite for Communion outside of Mass involved the priest coming to the altar in surplice and stole, the candles being lit at the tabernacle.  The people, or more often the server(s) recited the Confiteor and priest granted the absolution that follows.  The priest then showed the Host to the communicants saying the Ecce Agnus Dei…and the response thrice given “Domine non sum dignus…” The communicants then approached the priest, knelt and received the Host on their tongue as the priest said the “Corpus Domini Jesu Christi…” There was then a final prayer over the communicants.  (There were local variations of this rite but the practice of Communion outside of Mass persisted as the normal form until the Liturgical Reforms of Pius X at the beginning of the 20^th century and was in common use even up to Vatican II.) 

The Protestant reformers tried to restore frequent and universal communion—with mixed results.  Luther had more luck with this than Calvin or with the Anglican Church.  Luther’s liturgical revisions were far less drastic than either Calvin or the English Church’s and much of the Mass appeared very little altered except for the substation of the vernacular for the Latin (though even the Latin persisted in some places, especially for the sung parts of the service).  From sixteenth century woodcuts of Lutheran liturgies we can see the introduction of the rail with communicants kneeling to receive.

Let me back up here for a moment.  Railing the altar in one form or another was nothing new.  At some older churches in Rome, notably Santa Maria in Cosmedin, San Clemente, Santa Sabina, we can see the rails that were erected as early as the sixth century to mark off the space for the choristers and the Sacred Ministers during the liturgy.  These were not Communion rails—they are approximately four-and-a-half feet to six feet high.  They were simply an effort to prevent the crowds from taking over the space around the altar needed for the Ministers to perform the Liturgy.  Similar barriers developed in the East into the Iconostasis.  In the West, particularly in England but also elsewhere, they became choir screens.  The magnificent choir screens of many of the Spanish cathedrals have survived but these are high walls—thirty and forty feet in height. 

During the Catholic Reforms of the fifteenth (Spanish) and sixteenth (Trent) legislation demanding that the altar area be railed off became normative and rails were built around the sanctuary to divide it form the nave. Originally they had nothing to do with the reception of Holy Communion but were to keep out stray animals, wandering children and over-enthusiastic worshippers.  Where these railings survive they are usually about four feet high (too high for communion rails) and without a kneeling step on which the communicants can kneel.  Communion rails were not needed in Catholic Churches since communions were relatively rare and usually conducted away from the main altar before or after Mass.

The Lutheran custom of the rail caught on in both Germany and Scandinavia.  In England there was a conflict.  The Puritan wing of the Church of England, Calvinst in theology, clung to Cranmer’s practice where Holy Communion was celebrated at an ordinary table placed in the chancel.  The communicants were expected to kneel around the table as the priest placed the bread into their hands and then gave them the cup from which to drink.  Frequent communion did not catch on in England at the time.  People would come for Morning Prayer and the Sermon and then leave with only a dozen or so remaining for Holy Communion.  But the efforts of the High Church Party under Archbishop Laud in the early seventeenth century won a significant number of people over to a more Sacramental worship.  The High Church party moved the table from the middle of the chancel or from the nave where Cranmer had put it back to the traditional position against the eastern wall of the Church.  And it introduced communion rails with the communicants kneeling at the rail rather than around the table.  All this was done away with during the Puritan Commonwealth but was restored with the Restoration of the Episcopacy and the Crown in 1660. 

There was a dramatic Reformation of the Catholic Church in France in the seventeenth century.  The French Crown had blocked the promulgation of the Decrees of the Council of Trent for decades but a determined group of French ecclesiastics under the leadership of (later Cardinal) Pierre deBérulle undertook an internal reform of the Church.  Old religious orders were reformed and new religious orders were founded along with the Society of Saint Sulpice to train diocesan clergy.  Francis de Sales preached an everyday spirituality for lay people that brought incredible new energy to the Church.  Great attention was paid to the liturgy and magnificent churches were built.  And in these new churches communion rails appeared.  There were many connections between England and France at this time.  Sizable communities of English Catholics—both lay and religious—had taken refuge in France.  People went back and forth across the channel with regularity.  Many French churchmen had contacts with Church of England clergy and academics.  Many English converts to Catholicism came to France for education in the faith.  England had a French Catholic Queen  from 1625 until 1649.  Catholic chapels were maintained in London by Continental European embassies throughout the sixteenth century except for the years of the Commonwealth.  We can’t say for certain that the communion rail was an import from the Church of England but its appearance in France from where it spread through much of the Catholic world strongly suggests a link.  

Foundations of the Anglican Church CXXVII

Edward Bouverie Pusey 

Newman’s 1845 conversion to Catholicism shook the Anglican world and while both before and even more after Newman’s reception into the Catholic Church there was a veritable wave of defections from the Church of England with prominent Anglicans, clergy and lay alike, not all leaders of the Oxford Movement “swimming the Tiber.” 

The most prominent of those who stayed rooted in his Anglican convictions was John Keble whose sermon “National Apostasy” to open the Oxford Assizes of 1833 triggered the Tractarian Movement.  Keble was the son of an Anglican clergyman, also named John Keble.  The senior Keble was vicar of Coln Saint Alwyns.  The younger Keble was born in 1792 and as a young man attended Corpus Christi College Oxford.  He took Holy Orders in 1815 and became a fellow of Oriel College Oxford.  He served a number of years as University Examiner before leaving academia and devoting himself to pastoral work.  Before giving up Academia for parish ministry, however, he had written his Magnum Opus, The Christian Year, a collection of poems for every Sunday and the major feasts of the Church of England.  It captured the romanticism of the early 19^th century and even today a number of the poems remain popular in hymn form.  The Christian Year won for Keble a professorship of Poetry at Oxford which he held for about thirteen years before taking up parish ministry.  He continued to write both poetry and prose through the remainder of his life.  During the publication of the Tracts For The Times, Keble wrote Adherence To The Apostolical Succession The Safest Course, On Alterations In The Prayer Book, The Sunday Lessons, The Principle of Selection, Richard Nelson III, Baptism, Sermons For Saints’ Days and Holidays No. 1 Saint Matthias, Sermons for Saints’ Days and Holidays, No. 2 The Annunciation Of The Blessed Virgin Mary, Sermons for Saints’ Days and Holidays No. 3 Saint Mark’s Day, Sermons for Saints’ Days and Holidays No. 4 Saints Philip and James, and On the Mysticism Attributed To The Fathers Of The Church.  His younger brother, Thomas Keble, was also a prolific contributor to the Tracts.  John Keble had tremendous influence on sparking a renewed interest among Anglicans in their patristic heritage and he knew how to capitalize on the Romantic Movement of the 19^th century to awaken an appreciation for so much of what had been jettisoned from Anglicanism both during the Puritan years and the Latitudinarian captivity.  His interest in the feasts of the Church and his ability to bring them to popular devotional attention through his poetry was particularly helpful in awakening a liturgical piety in the Church of England. 

The other Anglican Divine who remained faithful to the Church of England and took leadership in the Oxford Movement when so many others were becoming Roman Catholics was Edward Bouverie Pusey (1800-1882).  Pusey was a member of the junior branch of the Viscounts Folkestone but was himself a commoner.  He studied at Eton, matriculated at Christchurch Oxford and was elected to a fellowship at Oriel (as were Keble and Newman).  He studied Oriental Languages at Göttingen and when he returned to England was named Regius Professor of Hebrew at Christchurch to which position was also attached a canonry at Christchurch Cathedral.  His time at Göttingen exposed him to the German pietists and insured his alienation from the rationalist trends in theological reflection espoused by the Latitudinarians.  He was somewhat of a latecomer to the Tractarians but came to publish the following Tracts: Thoughts on the Benefits of the System of Fasting Enjoined by Our Church, Supplement to Tract XVIII Thoughts on the Benefits of the System of Fasting Prescribed by Our Church, Scriptural Views of Holy Baptism, Scriptural Views of Holy Baptism (continued), Scriptural Views of Holy Baptism (concluded), An Ernest Remonstrance to the Author of ‘The Pope’s Letter,’  and Catena Patrum. No. IV. Testimony of Writers in the later English Church to the doctrine of the Eucharistic Sacrifice with an historical account of the changes in the Liturgy as to the expression of that doctrine.  In addition he gave a number of remarkable sermons that challenged the Latitudinarian mediocrity into which the Church of England had fallen as well as renouncing the Calvinist doctrines of the sixteenth century.  His 1843 sermon “The Holy Eucharist, A Comfort to the Penitent” was so marked a departure from the Calvinist approach to the Sacrament that it led to having his license to preach suspended for two years.  He preached two sermons entitled “The Entire Absolution of the Penitent” in 1846 calling for a revival of sacramental confession and absolution in the Church of England. In 1853 he preached a sermon “The Presence of Christ in the Holy Eucharist” which led to drastic changes in liturgical practice as the developing High Church party summoned the courage to abandon the bland trappings of Calvinist worship and restore pre-Reformation practices in the Liturgy.  He also wrote a number of books on the Eucharist as well as on the Hebrew Scriptures.  His Eirenicon was an attempt to find sufficient common ground for reunion of the Church of England with the Catholic Communion.  He didn’t succeed in winning either side to his argument. 

Ironically while his works on the Eucharist led to a ritualistic revival in the Church of England, Pusey himself remained quite Protestant in his own liturgical style and was not in favor of wholesale copy of Catholic or Pre-Reformation ritual.  The liturgical exuberance—and even excesses—for which the High Church party would become (in)famous were for the disciples of Pusey and Keble more than for the masters themselves but they did provide the theological framework for a “Catholic Revival.”