Part 8

It may be well to draw out even a little further still, some of the thoughts suggested by the foregoing observations. It is plain that, if it shall come to pass that we have to withdraw from communion with the archbishop, it will immediately and at once become also our duty to withdraw from all societies retaining him as their head. Rather, it will be their duty to remove his Grace’s name from their committees, and refuse to act under his presidency. If we may not hold communion with him, we may not acknowledge him as fit to preside over, or be a manager in, our church societies. In such societies as he now holds the post of president by annual election, or by some standing rule, the proceeding will be comparatively easy, because the next general meeting of the society can elect some other in his room, or annul the rule by which he is ex officio the president, or a member of the committee. In cases, if there be such, where he holds such position by charter, the matter may be more difficult and more perplexing, but I believe myself it will then be any and every such Church society’s duty to apply for an alteration in its charter under the new and unforeseen circumstance of the Archbishop of Canterbury having abetted heresy. But if such societies, or any of them, neglect or refuse to take these steps, it will immediately become the imperative duty of individuals to withdraw their names, and (so far as it may depend upon them,) break up their parochial or district associations in support of such societies as refuse to recognise the importance of keeping the faith of the Church of England pure, and thus become partakers in the guilt of allowing it to be stained. Many will say, no doubt, “How can you contemplate, much more counsel, so violent and destructive a policy? What is the Church to do in missions and promotion of Christian knowledge, if such a plan be put in execution?” I can but answer, _if things come to that point_, _that we must break communion with the archbishop_, in order to save our name and keep our place in Christendom, then these consequences necessarily follow, and we have no choice. We shall never come to such resolve but upon the weightiest grounds:—grounds that will leave us no option as to following them out. We shall have no right to make matters of principle into matters of expediency or calculation of consequences. But if I did look to such, I should come to the same conclusion: for, whether is it better to paralyze our efforts for the present, if so it be, by the weakening such societies, or to aid them when they, those very societies themselves, will be actually spreading no longer truth, but error and sinful compromise? Whether is it better for us all that we be stopped in a career of sin, or that we run on in it, in a seeming prosperity perhaps, but in reality spreading wherever we go, and whatever we do, the heresy that the Church in which we live and serve, has _no doctrine_ on baptism, and _we_ think it best to take no notice of the fact; but still to hold willingly in the post of chief honour and authority him who has “_concurred_” in, who justifies, who acts upon the decision which thus assails the faith? No! indeed and in truth, if we do look to consequences, the very confusion, perplexity and distress which may ensue, do but bind upon us the more this line of action: they are the very things probably to “bring us to ourselves.” If we prove that our Church cannot do her work under the charge of heresy, surely it is well. No doubt all this is full of dismay and sorrow; but any thing is better than to be easy in or under heresy. And it is _by_ distress, _by_ suffering, by being made “to go through fire and water,” that we may afterwards be “brought out into a wealthy place.” It is by being exposed to any amount of misery and degradation that we are to be purified. If we never feel “the mighty famine,” and even be driven “into the fields to feed swine,” and have to “fill our bellies with the husks that the swine do eat,” and “no man,” perchance, “give unto us,” or pity us, it may be we shall never be brought to say, “I will arise and go to my Father;”—I will seek again in all its purity the early faith, even though it be through the sufferings also of those who early held it. And “_who_ knoweth but God may be gracious unto us,” to forgive us our sins, especially the sin of lax holding, or practical denial of that early faith on so many sides; who knoweth but He may bring us back into our good place in his favour, that He may give us “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;”—even the place of favoured children in our Father’s house, for the isolation of a “far country;”—nay, that He may even say, “Bring forth the best robe and put it on him, and put shoes on his feet, and a ring on his hand; and bring hither the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat, and be merry, for this”—this Church of England so long, as it were, estranged from Christendom, is again at one with her; whereof let Christendom rejoice together!

The thoughts of such results as possible in God’s providence, if now we stand firm, and fight for the truth, must not make us forgetful of our present state and our present danger. I must repeat it, if these be so evil, we must look for sorrows before we expect relief; we must be ready to go through it; we must, like our divine Master, “set our face like a flint;” whatever reproaches be cast upon us, we must be prepared not to hide it “from shame and spitting.” We must not care for any loss or confusion in this time of rebuke, if only we may preserve the faith _for_ and _in_ our Church, whole and undefiled.

So strongly do I feel these things, that I can deliberately say I could even wish we might be laid under an interdict;—no baptisms, no marriages, no communions, no christian burials, rites, or ordinances be performed or celebrated among us, until we humble ourselves, and return unto our God, rather than the Church among us fell asleep, and all our zeal and fervour cool down, and we lose an article of the creed, and merely cry despairingly, “what can we do?”—recognising in all this no real difference, and believing in no real loss. Such an affliction, if there were any to put it on us, (and it may be it would be laid upon those who are hardened or careless, as the result of what we are now doing, if we be still and tranquil, supposing only an œcumenical council could be held to pass its judgment on these things, I say, such an affliction) might purge and purify us, might separate the wheat from the chaff, might prove _who_ were infidels, and _who_ believers in that other article of the creed, “the one Catholic and Apostolic Church,” and might show we were not without such “a remnant” at any rate, as might cause HIM to look upon us with some favour who is all mercy to those whom He perceives to be really bent, to bow no knee to Baal.

I cannot bring myself to leave these things unsaid, much as, on many accounts, I should be glad to do so; because they serve to show what kind of action I think we have it in our power to use, and prove of course how light a matter it must be to withdraw from this or that voluntary society; nay, comparatively how easy to strike off an archbishop’s name from a committee; nay, even to withdraw from communion with him, and those who may uphold him, when placed in the scale with such a tremendous infliction as I have named. And although the effects of such withdrawal, if done by but one priest here and there, may be little indeed; yet, whatever line of action shall be deemed necessary, if it be taken by many in different parts, separated by distance and circumstance, but one in heart and action, this will, I think, produce so great a difficulty in the position of affairs, that the restoration of a convocation will be the only remedy. Whatever may be the difficulty, if it prove the Church of England cannot do its work whilst under the curse of heresy, that is, not until it shake it off, (for the which we trust we shall be found to strive unto the death,) it cannot be amiss. {112}

I cannot leave this subject without adding a few words, to explain how it is I feel compelled to say these things, and yet continue to hold preferment in the Church of England; how “I justify my deeds unto myself,” in contemplating and speaking of the possibility of refusing the holy communion to her highest ecclesiastic, were he to present himself for it, in my parish church, and yet retain any parish or parish church at all. I have no doubt this will strike some persons as requiring, some perhaps as not admitting, explanation. But since what I have here said is not the result of petulant feeling or hasty resolve, but is said with thought and deliberation, it may be better to state the grounds on which I feel bound _both_ thus to speak _and_ to retain my living, than leave it to be supposed I have never considered whether there is any inconsistency in my conduct, and to each man’s own mind to guess my motives, and supply my reasoning. Honestly, if I know my own heart at all, can I say, I do not think still to hold my cure of souls in the Church of England for the sake of the loaves and fishes to be obtained by so doing. I am ready and willing, if any man can show me my duty requires it in consequence of what I have written, to resign my living to-morrow. But I do _not_ resign it, because I am fully persuaded there are times when, much as we should delight to pay to those in highest place superabundant honour and the most glad submission without scrutiny or question of any kind, yet we are bound to institute inquiry whether we _can_ do this, and not betray HER “who is the mother of us all;”—times when it is a duty to “withstand to the face” those who inherit even an Apostle’s robe;—times when we are forbidden to “flee away,” even if it were “to be at rest.” Then we must learn to bear not only the reproach of “envious tongues,” and the “evil report” of such as are adversaries to the whole cause we have at heart; not only the hard thoughts of those whose utmost charity is only able

“in see-saw strain to tell Of acting foolishly, but meaning well;”

but even the misconstruction and condemnation of some, who do go with us on the catholic side a certain way, but who are alarmed when anything is proposed or done beyond the ordinary routine of a gentle resistance. Nay, even more than bearing these things from others, we are constrained to become, yet in no ill sense of the word, casuists ourselves, and weigh minutely what that is which in principle we are bound to give to them “who sit in Moses’ seat,” and where we must stop, lest we should be found to break a higher command than theirs “by doing after their works.” There are, no doubt, difficulties on the side of _action_, lest we be not sufficiently observant of the “powers that be.” There are difficulties on the side of _inaction_, lest, while we sleep, “tares may be sown” which we shall never be able to eradicate. So we come to be obliged, even against our will, to consider _what_ deference, _what_ authority, _what_ guidance of affairs, must _needs_ be given to a chief ruler, simply for his office’ sake. And the first thought which meets one is, that undoubtedly no Archbishop in the English Church can claim to be to us a Pope; the second, that matters are much simplified as to compliance, if it be any fundamental of Christianity, any article of the creed, which is brought in question. For then, history, and the uniform tradition of the Church, alike teach us that it is not merely the _right_, but the _duty_, not merely of the _priest_, but of the _lay people_ also, to contend for the faith openly and uncompromisingly, by whomsoever it may have been assailed, and under whatever circumstances. The word, too, which is above all words, speaks not of gentle resistance, or moderate opposition, or needful quiet, or charitable construction: but is, “contend earnestly;”—“resist unto blood;”—“quit you like men, be strong;”—“accept no man’s person”—fear no man’s rebuke;—regard no man’s favour;—consult no mans feeling;—“wish him not so much as God speed,” be he who he may, who would give away God’s honour and God’s truth. “If thy brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, or the wife of thy bosom, or thy friend which is as thine own soul, entice thee secretly, saying, Let us go serve other gods, which thou hast not known, thou, nor thy fathers:”—(let us make a new faith other than that once for all delivered:—let us change the creeds of the Church Catholic) . . . “thou shalt not consent unto him, nor hearken unto him; neither shall thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal him.” Well, surely, have we been reminded, “It was a simple bishop who addressed the First Patriarch of the Church with the _Anathema tibi_, _prævaricator Liberi_, when that Pope had tolerated Arianism; they were simple priests who appealed against the Second Patriarch of the Church, and him too a saint, when Dionysius of Alexandria appeared to deny the Catholic faith concerning the Son of God; it was a simple layman who attacked the then Second Patriarch of the Church for heresy when Nestorius broached his errors on the Incarnation; and both bishop, priest, and layman have received eternal honour, as having been ‘valiant for the truth upon the earth.’ In our ordination oath, to ‘be ready with all faithful diligence to banish and drive away all erroneous and strange doctrines, contrary to God’s word,’ I find no proviso, ‘except they shall be supported by superiors.’” {116} Surely, then, to refuse communion to one, however high in station, is no such great thing, where the faith is put in peril. Alas! I fear those who talk most of peace and quiet, who are, more than anything else, afraid lest Churchmen should do _too mush_, forget, or it may be have never realized, that it is _no less than the faith_ which is now endangered. And if there is one thing more than another which now disquiets and disheartens thoughtful, earnest-minded, far-seeing men, it is this;—to perceive that there are numbers who are not themselves in the least heretical on baptism, who yet say that all we need is rest; whose great anxiety is that excitement should cease, and quiet be restored; who believe all would be well if these “unhappy differences,” as they call them, could be forgotten; these “sad animosities,” as they appear to them, could be laid aside, and all things return into a peaceful current. Alas! “Peace, peace, when there is no peace,” is the order of the day, I fear, with only too many. Oh! that I could “lift up my voice like a trumpet,” to arouse such, before they give up, step by step, to the encroaching liberalism of the day the very vantage ground it covets, and be only turned at last, and _made_ to stand at bay, when they find they can recede no further without being pushed absolutely down the gulph; discovering this, however, only when it is too late, because they will already have surrendered their strongholds, and yielded up God’s armour, and then find, to their sorrow and dismay, that even such weapons as they may still have left are profitless and vain, the space in which they are pent up being all too strait to allow them rightfully to wield them. Oh! that I could awaken the sleeping heart of this English people to feel for God’s honour as for their own, or for their country’s! and to know, if they would indeed win His battle, they must, one and all who have Catholic hearts, throw themselves into the very midst of the fight, and strain every nerve, and use every weapon, now whilst there is time, as I believe, in God’s might, and by His help, to win it. Oh! that we all knew we may not leave our cause to fight for itself alone, (which is to desert it,) and so provoke Him our Saviour and Defence to forsake us, and permit us to become at last as Ephesus and Smyrna, as Pergamos and Thyatira, as Sardis, Philadelphia, and Laodicea.

I do not, then, resign my cure of souls, because I feel God has appointed me to be one in this warfare, and I may not give away anything He has put into my hand wherewith to bear my part in it. I do not resign my cure, because I think I should not be doing my Lord’s work;—I should not be fighting his Church’s battle;—I should not be using his weapons;—I should not be feeding his flock;—I should not be avouching his truth;—I should not be bearing, in any appreciable degree, the same testimony to it, were I to resign my cure of souls, and then say, “I would not admit such or such to holy communion _if I had a parish_.” No! let it be known and felt that as a priest, in the exercise of the priestly office, I do what I do, and promise what I promise. And although I have allowed even herein I am but speaking prospectively of what may _become_ our duty, I repeat that I dare not withhold my thought of what possibly is coming upon us, both that we may all be prepared if it come, and that those who have most power to avert any such necessity, may see how very urgent and extreme is the crisis in which our (and their) lot is cast.

I know well how the world will take my saying, and meet my argument. It will say this at least, if it say no worse, “Granting what you urge has a certain force and consistency in itself, if you were merely a priest; how is it reconcileable with being a priest in the diocese of Sarum, and province of Canterbury? how is to say these things, compatible with the canonical obedience which you have sworn?”

I might answer, perhaps, that I know not that I _have_ sworn anything to the Archbishop, since I never was in his diocese, either in Chester or Canterbury; but this answer would be possibly insufficient, even for my own case, as there may be an implied canonical obedience through the suffragan bishop to the metropolitan. Moreover, if it cleared other dioceses, and the priests in them personally, it would be no general answer, but leave a burden on the consciences of those who minister in the diocese of Canterbury. I will therefore make a further, and, I trust, a more complete reply. I say, that what I myself, and every priest among us, has subscribed to, is obedience to his bishop “in things lawful and honest.” Can this ever bind me to acquiesce in expunging an article of the Nicene creed? in not contending to the _utmost_ against the heresy that our Church has no dogmatic teaching on baptism at all? You may tell me, the law will take another view of what is “lawful,” and compel me to subscribe to it. When it does, it will be time enough for me to think what I shall next do; and I trust I shall not be forgetful that there is an authority higher than the law of man. {120} Therefore this I will say even now, (indeed I have already said it,) if the time ever come when this _Church_ and realm shall so receive doctrine that we cannot hold the Catholic faith, and remain members of the Church of England too, one thing at least will be clear, that we must then give up the Church of England, and I will join with you in seeking somewhere else a purer faith. But I do not believe as yet, whatever _this realm_ may think, that _this Church_ hath acknowledged the Gorham theology to be her faith; and I will say this besides, if ever it shall come to pass that it is about to be ruled, not to be “lawful and honest” to separate from any that openly abet or foster heresy; that our subscription to “obey in things lawful and honest,” binds us to a bishop or an archbishop so committing himself, so aiding and abetting the permission of heresy, then will a new phase open upon our Church; then will that great argument of the day be ranged on our side, “Take heed what you do, or three thousand priests will resign their cures, and seek some other shelter!” Yes! then indeed will it be, (I doubt it not) that some of our spiritual fathers will make it plain to all men wherein our great “strength lieth,” and show that we depend not upon “an arm of flesh;” that there are men of all ranks and circumstances among us, willing to “count all things but loss,” so they may “keep the faith,” and that in deed and in truth _the Church_ is separable from _the establishment_. In the mean time, as I have said, I find myself, not as yet bound down to the decision of the Privy Council, nor ensnared, by having undertaken to minister in my cure as “this Church and realm hath received” doctrine, because, even though this realm may have received that judgment as legal, I think the Church has not ratified it as valid. I find no burden upon my conscience in having subscribed to obey my ordinary “in things lawful and honest,” nor do I perceive how I shall find it, even though I may come to think it unlawful to hold communion with the Primate. And I find no cause to resign my cure, though I have deemed it necessary to say these things.

There is one subject more, which I cannot make up my mind to pass over. I have said the very struggles which we make for freedom, will, in their making, test our Church. This itself is used as an argument by some, against exertion; at least against exertion for the objects which most Churchmen now advocate—the regaining for her, her free synod or convocation. “Convocations and Synods.—Are they remedies for existing evils?” is the title of a thoughtful pamphlet which I have seen. The “Anglican Layman” (such is the author’s description of himself on his title page) says, the remedies which he has heard suggested appear to him “one and all of a dilatory and inconclusive character, in part hopeless, in part useless, and in part of doubtful propriety.” {122} I will not swell what I have already written by any comment on the first two of these objections; on the last I must say something; and, to introduce it, I will make a further extract from the pamphlet in question:—

“Suppose the convocation assembled with universal consent, or even suppose a properly constituted synod to be convened with the approbation of the State, or suppose the united episcopate to be assembled without it, would the decision of any or either of these be really _authoritative_? In what sense would it be so? Would any or either of the parties in the Church consent to be bound by it? What is meant by an _authoritative decision_? What do the ‘Resolutions’ I have quoted mean by an ‘_authoritative declaration_’? What does the Metropolitan Church Union mean by ‘_the only body possessing authority in controversies of faith_’? What does the Bishop of London mean by ‘_finally settling the question by a synodical decree_’? Would you be bound by it?—Should I be bound by it?—Would the minority of such an assembly be bound in conscience by the majority?—Would the majority itself be bound by the decision in any permanent sense, because they were the majority? In fact, who can doubt that there is on both sides a determined foregone conclusion on the point in dispute, and that no one individual on either side would hold himself bound in conscience to abide by the decision.”

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