Although the practice until the time of the Reformation had been to celebrate the Eucharist weekly and even daily, this did not mean that worshippers received communion each service. Usually only the priests communed while the laity went about their business of private devotions. The roles of the bishops, presbyters, and deacons had evolved from order within the Church to officials of the Church.

As with officials in the secular government, the clergy now too had the responsibilities of carrying out their offices with the judgments rendered by their superiors. Under this understanding, the laity became the bottom rung of the ladder. All of this had less to do with needs within the Church as the evolution of society in Western Christendom. The papacy may have at first carried on the traditions of Roman society, but it eventually took on the feudal view of the Frankish monarchs whose protection it sought as the power of Constantinople faded.

The Eastern Churches, despite the extravagance of the Byzantine world, still retained a much more active role for the laity in defending the faith. Byzantine society – as with the classical Roman world it inherited – may have been imperial but it was never feudal. This point is important in understanding the whole attitude that evolved as Frankish feudalism took over Western Christendom. If the laity, most of whom were serfs, had no role in the rest of their lives, why should they be concerned with ecclesial issues? Like the running of the state, that was to be left to the lords over them.

In this context, the Eucharist was really none of their business. If the priests were offering sacrifices in their names, just be grateful and try to not burden them with too many sins. Those of better means would also not complain since both they and the church had their roles. It was only in the quest for ultimate power among the bishops and the princes that struggle ensued.

Granted, the laity were expected to take communion every once in a great while. This usually took place on feast days with a memorable build up including fairs and a fast day on the eve of the feast. For them, receiving the Eucharist was a special event. Of course, this misguided piety was based on subjective feelings rather than objective standards.

Luther’s reforms – as with the Anglican reforms in England – carried on the basic outline of the Roman liturgy with certain elements altered to reflect the theological shift. Both Luther and Cramner did nothing, however, to change the practice of weekly communion. Calvin, for his part, was unable to convince Geneva to adopt weekly communion but he advocated it. The opposition to frequent communion appeared to be rooted in the medieval worldview. Zwingli, the only major Reformer not to advocate weekly communion, expressed such misguided piety in his decision. He advocated having communion four times a year – Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, and in the fall (often celebrated on All Saints) – thus keeping the “feast day” nature of the communion. The evolution of practice in Scotland bears this out as it would include fairs, celebration, the distribution of communion tokens, and a fast day on the eve of the event.

While misplaced piety may have been the root of the problem during the Reformation, it no longer plays a real obstacle to weekly communion. There are some isolated pockets of hardcore Puritanism left who hold such views but they are not, despite their overrepresentation on the internet, a major factor in American Christianity. The problem now is not too much piety regarding communion but too little.

In contemporary American Protestantism, there is such a reduction in the understanding of the Sacraments that they have become completely superfluous to most congrgations’ praxis. As in earlier times, this is again rooted in the evolution of the ministry. Whereas the patristic church saw ministry in terms of order and the medieval West in terms of office, early Protestantism viewed the ministry in terms of covenant. While having some points of contact with the patristic order, the tenor would be somewhat more legal than organic. In fairness, the outlook was an outgrowth of the correction to the medieval neglect of the Word but it did give birth to some naïve concepts and applications of the regulative principle that overlooked its own roots in early modernism.

This corrective approach evolved into a functional theory of ministry that would be defined in terms of function. In correcting past errors by reconnecting ministry to the Word, the result empasiszed was not to connect ministry to the Word but to connect ministry to correction. Thus ministry is in contemporary Protestantism a largely utilitarian affair where ministers are judged by their ability to achieve corporate goals. These goals, largely reflective of the culture and situation of their times, may coincide more or less with the true mission of the Church but the problem is that it sees the Body of Christ as one more secular entity to be handed over to an “expert” with techniques.

If the goal is to achieve “decisions” from the simple folk of the American frontier in the 19th century, then the emotion and showmanship of revivalism – even then treated with disdain by more cosmopolitan observers – proved to be a highly effective tool. For the first generation raised on the new media of television, the more polished approach of evangelists such as Billy Graham would resonate. The therapeutic mentality of the late twentieth century was “Christianized” by figures such as Robert Schueller while the consumerist baby boomers would find their felt needs answered in the megachurch movement. Like popular music, Evangelical Protestantism has become fragmented by its utilitarian approach to culture and has found itself awash in a dizzying array of movements that are hailed as the answer one year only to be a forgotten memory a few years later.

In such an environment, the Sacraments would seem like little more than a quaint custom. What exactly is their purpose? With much of contemporary Protestantism dictated more by the demands of the “unchurched” than what God has instructed the Church to do, practices such as Holy Communion and even Baptism are mere reminders of all those “churchy” things their target audience say they do not want. Best not to dwell on such things as sin, redemption, and atonement. Crosses may have inspired medieval peasants but you will never pack them in Peoria with that approach.

Forgotten in all of this rush to please the consumer is the fact that we are not purely spiritual or intellectual beings. It is this quasi-gnosticsim that is ultimately the rotten apple of nonsacramental worship infecting everything good it touches. We are composite beings – both body and spirit – that are redeemed as whole beings. The error of confusing the two meanings of the word “spiritual”, that of being nonphysical and that of being of the Holy Spirit, is common within Evangelicalism (e.g., worshipping in “spirit and truth” is taken to mean true worship cannot have a physical component) and easily exposed by pointing out that Satan is a spiritual being in the first sense but is opposed to everything spiritual in the second sense.

Under such an approach, one could almost forget there was a real body on that cross at Golgotha. The crucifixion becomes so spiritualized that even common terms such as “the precious blood” takes on an almost ethereal quality that seems to negate the existence of hemoglobin. The crucifixion can, under these circumstances, be reduced to a purely spiritual act with the bodily sacrifice merely an accidental byproduct. The danger in this semi-docetic outlook is that Jesus ultimately becomes an example instead of an offering; his obedience becomes something to emulate rather than to cleave.

Oddly enough, many Evangelicals do end up seeking a sacramental outlook – although they would hardly call it that. Physical components end up integrated into their worship although, having forsaken the sacraments of God, they substitute mere traditions of men to fill the void. The anxious bench, the altar call, and the array of charismatic experiences are mere manmade sacraments used to substitute for those ordained by God that they have forsaken. A few years ago, I heard a former member of a megachurch (who had since gone to Rome) tell how some friends still attending there invited him to their new baby’s “child dedication” (the church in question did not bother with such ancient symbols as Baptism). The banal reflection of what was lost would be comical were it not so pathetic.

This unfortunate erosion of the praxis of the Church does seem to be running its course. I believe it is the reason for the phenomena of so many Evangelicals – pastors in particular – moving to Rome, Orthodoxy, and anywhere they might find a respite from the world. For not only are the Sacraments means of grace but are, along with other symbols of Christianity, signs of the Incarnation. They represent to us that Christ has entered the world and there will be no true rest until the time when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

The loss of the Sacraments is only the first step but certainly not the last. Those for whom sacraments are “merely symbols” refuse to acknowledge the power of Christian symbols to claim outposts of eternity in a fallen world. They declare themselves free of symbolic language but in this they are delusional. For if crosses, clerical robes, stained glass, sanctuaries, incense, pulpits, altars, and liturgy speak to us in symbols of “religion”, then what do microphones, business suits (or business causal), picture windows, stages, cameras, podiums, sets, and skits convey? Can something truly be called a church if it has pastries and coffee but not the bread and cup?

Concern over the loss of the sacramental in worship is not something restricted to those entering the “historic churches”. Reformed writers such as Michael Horton, Keith Mathison, and D. G. Hart have bemoaned the loss of the traditional Reformed understanding of liturgy and sacrament and its replacement by an Americanized model imported from “free church” sources. Even such Evangelical figures as Thomas Oden, Timothy George, and D. H. Williams have called for Evangelicalism to enrich itself by a connection with the treasures of the historic Christian tradition.

The worship of the Church is where we present through Christ ourselves – body and soul – as a living and holy sacrifice to God. God has ordained through Word and Sacrament the means of grace so that we may persevere to the end. The Sacraments are certainly symbols – flags being raised to declare Christ’s sovereignty over all – but they are also much more than that. The Church has always believed them to be proclamations of the Gospel with real spiritual power to both bring the faithful into Christ’s presence. The question to ask is not why someone would “do this” in obedience to Christ’s own words, but why they would seek to do something else instead?

However, before going any further it is necessary to state this does not imply that other forms of worship are invalidated because they lack regular communion. The point is not that their worship is null but that it is in some sense deficient. In order to see the distinction, let us imagine a group of Christians who read the Bible regularly on their own but were not yet members of a local church met once a week to pray and give thanksgiving to God. Would they be worshipping? Of course! Now suppose the same group founded a church and continued in the same pattern. No scripture readings or preaching but only prayers and thanksgiving and perhaps some hymns. All reading of Scripture was done on their own time but they were conscientious about it. Again, they might still be worshipping God, but their worship would have obvious deficiencies. Now suppose they saw the point but decided to have Scripture reading and preaching once a month because otherwise it wouldn’t be as “special.” Again this is an improvement but the deficiencies are still there. The situation in both cases is a worship that is missing one or more marks of true Christian worship in its fullness and is in this sense disordered. It is not a question of what Christians must do in worship but what they should do.

Now turning to what the New Testament actually states on the matter, there are two matters we need to consider. The first is why there is nothing as clearly stated as the rules given in the Torah. The second is what the New Testament actually can tell us about the role of the sacrament in the early Church. I would contend it does in fact tell us a lot.

In answering the first question, one must first take into account the vastly different circumstances of the Old and New Testaments. In the Torah, you had a people whose understanding of God’s wishes had no basis other than the vague memories of the promises to Abraham. The various ritual laws were specific commands to a people who were to be set apart from their neighbors as part of God’s plan to bring the Messiah into the world. The writing of the Torah was in effect bringing into existence the people of God.

With the Church, you begin in a far different setting. There is a direct firsthand revelation of God in the flesh walking among them and teaching them. His chosen Apostles then carried on his teachings to the early Church. It is only at the end of this period that you have the appearance of the New Testament books. Rather than establishing the rules of faith and practice for the Church, the New Testament is a witness to them in so far as it is necessitated by the circumstances of its composition.

Unlike the case of the Torah that was through its revelation establishing the people of God, the New Testament was a later account of the life and earthly ministry of Jesus and the establishmeny of the Church that had already occurred decades earlier. By the time the earliest books of the New Testament are written, the Church had been worshipping for decades and the bread and cup were already established as part of this worship.

A prominent example of this occurs in I Corinthians. Written prior to the Gospel accounts of the Last Supper, Paul did not need to reveal the existence of the ritual to the Church in Corinth. Instead, he chided them for their irreverence in its celebration. His exposition, though occasioned by their misdeeds, does provide us with much information. He writes of the divisions in Corinth and knows this because of their behavior when they gather as the Church (I Corinthians 11:17-19). And what behavior is this? It is the way they act in celebrating the Lord’s Supper (I Corinthians11:20). He in effect invalidates their gathering, stating that when they gather it is not the Lord’s Supper they eat. Does this not indicate the Corinthians were celebrating the ritual whenever they gathered? And does not Paul’s condemnation of their behavior during the ritual and extensive explanation underscore its importance to Christian gatherings?

In this context, there is no need for Paul to remind them to do this as a regular part of their worship – this is obviously already the case – but to point out that irreverence is as much a negative as the proper celebration is a positive. If this regular celebration was part of the Corinthians worship, then it likely came from Paul himself who established that church. Moreover, if it was established there by Paul, then it is likely Paul did the same elsewhere.

Even the words of institution have their own implications. Paul emphasizes the Lord’s own instructions to “do this in remembrance of me” (I Corinthians 11:24-25). This immediately brings up the question as to what weeks when the Church gathers are they not to remember Jesus. And if you agree the Church should remember Jesus every week, then what part of “do this” is ambiguous?

Another important point is that Paul does not define the sacrament in opposition to the Word nor even apart from it but intimately integrated into its proclamation. He makes direct allusions to it in his establishing distinctions between believers and pagans (I Corinthians 10:20-21), a mark of unity (I Corinthians 10:16-17) and a proclamation of the Gospel (I Corinthians 11:26) with real spiritual power (I Corinthians 11:27-30).

In this context of the regular use of the sacrament, the New Testament’s allusions to it become much clearer. By the time the Gospels are written the Church had been celebrating it for decades and did not need instruction on its use as much as the meaning in the overall economy of salvation. The Gospels and the Book of Acts, besides the direct accounts of the Last Supper in the synoptics, give numerous passages that have connections to the sacrament however one might interpret these connections.

For example, Luke gives us the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus where the Lord appears unrecognized to them (Luke 24:14-16), preaches the Good News (Luke 24:25-27), breaks bread in a manner similar to the Last Supper (Luke 24:30) and was revealed to them in the breaking of bread (Luke 24: 31-35). In Acts, Luke speaks of the Church keeping to the teaching of the Apostles, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and the prayers. He also tells how Paul joined other Christians in Troas who had gathered on the first day of the week to break bread and Paul preached to them (Acts 20:7). John gives us the famous “bread of life” discourse where Jesus speaks of those who have eternal life eating His body and drinking His blood and words the Church would have associated with the sacrament given this Gospel’s late date of composition.

The accounts of Paul and the Gospels may be the most direct accounts in the New Testament but they are by no means the only ones. In the Epistle to the Hebrews, the author speaks of the sacrifice of Christ as superior to the sacrifices of the Temple and defines Christ’s priesthood as of the order of Melchizadek (Hebrews 7:17). This is in fulfillment of a Messianic prophecy (Psalm 110:4). Melchizadek was a figure who appeared briefly in Genesis and was both priest and king. If Melchizadek may be considered a type of Christ and Abraham to represent the faithful, their meeting tells us much of this “order of Melchizadek”. Melchizadek blessed Abraham through a ritual that included bread and wine and Abraham gave him a tenth of his possessions. There are also allusions in the Book of Revelation, but I will not deal with those here because the nature of that book makes it far less clear than other examples – the sum of which I believe to make my point.

If the evidence for the celebration of the sacrament weekly is attested to both in Scripture and history, then why did Protestantism cast aside the practice of the Church throughout history? That is a question that, ironically, has its answer in the retaining of an attitude that has its origins in misguided medieval piety. And that will be explained next time.

One does find among some Evangelicals the idea that early worship was radically different from that which was dominant in the post-Constantinian period. The contention is that the centrality of the Eucharist and its accompanying liturgical structures were a novelty introduced once the Church became intertwined with the Roman state. It is often assumed by Evangelicals that the earliest Christians worshipped in styles akin to contemporary Evangelical forms with the “pure” Christian worship of the early period sacrificed as the cost of imperial favor.

However, when we investigate the actual witness of the Christians of this early period, something else entirely emerges. The forms of Christian worship in the pre-Constantinian period are very similar to that which followed Constantine’s reign. Certainly they were likely done in far grander style with the royal coffers and magnficent buildings suddenly available for Christian use. Majestic liturgies used by the Church in its worship were composed by such notables as Basil the Great and John Chrysostom in the East and Gregory the Great in the West. Yet the basic structure of these liturgies did not differ markedly from what preceded it centuries earlier. The Church continued to worship as it always had but in more stately fashion.

In the Didache, a manual of church instruction written near the end of the first century,the basic outline of a Eucharistic liturgy are given:

Now concerning the Thanksgiving (Eucharist), thus give thanks. First, concerning the cup: We thank you, our Father, for the holy vine of David Your servant, which You made known to us through Jesus Your Servant; to You be the glory for ever. And concerning the broken bread: We thank You, our Father, for the life and knowledge which You made known to us through Jesus Your Servant; to You be the glory for ever. Even as this broken bread was scattered over the hills, and was gathered together and became one, so let Your Church be gathered together from the ends of the earth into Your kingdom; for Yours is the glory and the power through Jesus Christ for ever. But let no one eat or drink of your Thanksgiving (Eucharist), but they who have been baptized into the name of the Lord; for concerning this also the Lord has said, Give not that which is holy to the dogs.

But after you are filled, thus give thanks: We thank You, holy Father, for Your holy name which You caused to tabernacle in our hearts, and for the knowledge and faith and immortality, which You made known to us through Jesus Your Servant; to You be the glory for ever. You, Master almighty, created all things for Your name’s sake; You gave food and drink to men for enjoyment, that they might give thanks to You; but to us You freely gave spiritual food and drink and life eternal through Your Servant. Before all things we thank You that You are mighty; to You be the glory for ever. Remember, Lord, Your Church, to deliver it from all evil and to make it perfect in Your love, and gather it from the four winds, sanctified for Your kingdom which You have prepared for it; for Yours is the power and the glory for ever. Let grace come, and let this world pass away. Hosanna to the God (Son) of David! If any one is holy, let him come; if any one is not so, let him repent. Maran atha. Amen.

Later in the text, it becomes clear the Eucharist is to be celbrated weekly:

But every Lord’s day gather yourselves together, and break bread, and give thanksgiving after having confessed your transgressions, that your sacrifice may be pure. But let no one that is at variance with his fellow come together with you, until they be reconciled, that your sacrifice may not be profaned. For this is that which was spoken by the Lord: In every place and time offer to me a pure sacrifice; for I am a great King, says the Lord, and my name is wonderful among the nations.

Thus the pattern of weekly communion was certainly present at the end of the Apostolic age.

Also within the first century is what is likely an allusion to the Eucharist in the letter of Clement of Rome to the Corinthians that speaks of Christians “tending to the sacrifice demanded by their Master at the appointed time” without reference to either what the sacrifice is or what the time might be. Although not explicit, it is difficult to imagine any other possible candidate given similar explicit Eucharistic references in other patristic documents.

A quarter century later, the importance of the Eucharist as a sign of orthodoxy is already present in the writings of Ignatius of Antioch who was led the church in this ancient city where the followers of Jesus were first called Christians. Ignatius, whose tenure in the Church went back to the Apostolic era, likely heard both Peter and Paul preach the Gospel and eventually was martyred for refusing to compromise his Christian faith.

In his letter to the Church at Ephesus, it is quite clear the celebration of the Eucharist was central to Christian worship and the importance that this is done within the context of structure established by the Church:

For if I in this brief space of time, have enjoyed such fellowship with your bishop — I mean not of a mere human, but of a spiritual nature— how much more do I reckon you happy who are so joined to him as the Church is to Jesus Christ, and as Jesus Christ is to the Father, that so all things may agree in unity! Let no man deceive himself: if any one be not within the altar, he is deprived of the bread of God. For if the prayer of one or two possesses Matthew 18:19 such power, how much more that of the bishop and the whole Church! He, therefore, that does not assemble with the Church, has even by this manifested his pride, and condemned himself. For it is written, “God resists the proud.” Let us be careful, then, not to set ourselves in opposition to the bishop, in order that we may be subject to God.

Later in the letter, he adds:

Especially [will I do this ] if the Lord make known to me that you come together man by man in common through grace, individually, in one faith, and in Jesus Christ, who was of the seed of David according to the flesh, being both the Son of man and the Son of God, so that you obey the bishop and the presbytery with an undivided mind, breaking one and the same bread, which is the medicine of immortality, and the antidote to prevent us from dying, but [which causes] that we should live for ever in Jesus Christ.

In his letter to the Magnesians, Ignatius exhibited similar sympathies:

As therefore the Lord did nothing without the Father, being united to Him, neither by Himself nor by the apostles, so neither do anything without the bishop and presbyters. Neither endeavour that anything appear reasonable and proper to yourselves apart; but being come together into the same place, let there be one prayer, one supplication, one mind, one hope, in love and in joy undefiled. There is one Jesus Christ, than whom nothing is more excellent. Therefore run together as into one temple of God, as to one altar, as to one Jesus Christ, who came forth from one Father, and is with and has gone to one.

Even as he faced martyrdom, Ignatius used allusions to the Eucharist in liking the feast to the ultimate victory of the Christian as he wrote to the Romans:

For though I am alive while I write to you, yet I am eager to die. My love has been crucified, and there is no fire in me desiring to be fed; but there is within me a water that lives and speaks, saying to me inwardly, Come to the Father. I have no delight in corruptible food, nor in the pleasures of this life. I desire the bread of God, the heavenly bread, the bread of life, which is the flesh of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who became afterwards of the seed of David and Abraham; and I desire the drink of God, namely His blood, which is incorruptible love and eternal life.

and to the Philadelphians he once more emphasized the Eucharist as the sign of unity:

Take heed, then, to have but one Eucharist. For there is one flesh of our Lord Jesus Christ, and one cup to [show forth ] the unity of His blood; one altar; as there is one bishop, along with the presbytery and deacons, my fellow-servants: that so, whatsoever you do, you may do it according to [the will of] God.

But perhaps the strongest statement came in his letter to the Church at Smyrna where he explained the Gnostic and other Docetic heretics rejected the Eucharist and emphasized how the unity is to be found in it under the authority of the orthodox leadership within the Church:

They abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they confess not the Eucharist to be the flesh of our Saviour Jesus Christ, which suffered for our sins, and which the Father, of His goodness, raised up again. Those, therefore, who speak against this gift of God, incur death in the midst of their disputes. But it were better for them to treat it with respect, that they also might rise again. It is fitting, therefore, that you should keep aloof from such persons, and not to speak of them either in private or in public, but to give heed to the prophets, and above all, to the Gospel, in which the passion [of Christ] has been revealed to us, and the resurrection has been fully proved. But avoid all divisions, as the beginning of evils.

See that you all follow the bishop, even as Jesus Christ does the Father, and the presbytery as you would the apostles; and reverence the deacons, as being the institution of God. Let no man do anything connected with the Church without the bishop. Let that be deemed a proper Eucharist, which is [administered] either by the bishop, or by one to whom he has entrusted it. Wherever the bishop shall appear, there let the multitude [of the people] also be; even as, wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church. It is not lawful without the bishop either to baptize or to celebrate a love-feast; but whatsoever he shall approve of, that is also pleasing to God, so that everything that is done may be secure and valid.

In all this, we may see the central role the celebration of the Eucharist had at the close of the Apostolic age. In the last post, I mentioned the description of Christian worship given a few decades after Ignatius by Justin Martyr in his First Apology that further illustrates the vital role of the Eucharist in early Christian worship – a position consistently defended throughout the ante-Nicene period. Thus the assertion it was not until Constantine that the Eucharist took on a central role is historically untenable.

Still some argue the witness is still not considerable enough. To this I answer: while the witness for the Eucharist as vital to Christian worship may not have hundreds of citations, the case against it has zero citations. It is not a question of whether hundreds (or even dozens) of supporting citations are extant since one does not expect much surviving evidence from a miniscule, despised, and persecuted minority of two millennia ago from which much has been lost. However, when any source does discuss Christian worship and the role of the Eucharist in any detail, the evidence is one-sided in favor of the regular communion within Christian gatherings. In other words, wherever the activities of Christians on Sunday are mentioned, so is the Eucharist.

Given the evidence presented above, I have to wonder how much evidence from this period would suffice. If one finds evidence of a weekly Eucharist at 100 A.D., 125 A.D., 150 A.D., 175 A.D., and so forth, is that not enough? It is the situation we have now and, given the state of the Church and the age of the sources, that is quite remarkable. But still it seems for some not to be satisfactory. What exactly would meet the criteria? It is difficult to seek a wider range of early Christians since the Church was not yet that large. Are we doomed to an endless game of always needing more evidence? Without some understanding of what would constitute evidence enough to reach a conclusion, it is nothing more than appealing to an argument from silence under the assumption of some possible “worship of the gaps”.

The overwhelming nature of the evidence can perhaps be seen better by imagining we were speaking not of Christianity but some other religion within the culture of the first four centuries A.D. of the Roman Empire. Suppose that whenever sources from this religion in differing areas of the Empire at different times mentioned their worship, they included a specific ritual act. Would anyone then dispute the fairly obvious conclusion that this ritual act was a regular part of their worship? Like any historical inference, one might qualify the statement as being “to the best of our knowledge” and “subject to revision if faced with new evidence.” However, if no contrary evidence were forthcoming, the statement would soon be treated as an established fact.

The only reason for doubting it in the case of Christianity is that, unlike the scenario given above, Christianity is not some obscure religion of the past and the interpretation of the evidence has implications for Christians today. These implications are controversial because Christianity has fragmented into various traditions with a long history of rancor between them and many of the issues under consideration are seen as determining the theological correctness of some traditions over others.

For Evangelicals to admit the early Christians had a communion ritual as a regular part of their worship might appear to question not only the liturgical direction Evangelicalism has taken but also their approach to Scriptural exegesis. Since Evangelicals often claim to have no authority outside the Bible itself, this brings to light that such a claim is frought with difficulties. It is hard to find much that has become standard belief and praxis within Evangelicalism in early Christianity and hence the interpretive layer placed upon the Bible by many Evangelicals might well be one of the traditions of men they routinely condemn.

Those Evangelicals seeking to peel back the layers of human tradition to find authentic Christian worship are often confronted with a worship that is very unlike their own and closer though not identiacal to their opponents on the ecclesial spectrum. It is not surprising that when they try to explain this to their fellow Evangelicals, the reactions range from indifference to hostility. For many Evangelicals, it is unacceptable that the historic Church might be correct and Evangelicalism wrong at any time on any issue.

This is often seen in the historical interpretations of periods where Christianity had its greatest impact on society in a negative light merely because it was not their brand of Christianity. Instead, they construct a new story where the “real Christianity” of the Apostolic period was something more akin to modern or postmodern egalitarianism than the realization of God’s plan to reconcile a fallen world to Himself. For them, any other “Christianity” is preferable to the Christianity of the historic Church.

I suspect such reactions are related to the long and hostile nature of Catholic/Protestant polemics and this has led many Evangelicals to anachronistically apply specific contemporary conditions to the Church of two millennia ago. Hence, when an Evangelical sees “bishop” and “Eucharist” mentioned in the same sentence, as with Ignatius, it invokes images of men in purple silk getting their rings kissed while everyone’s olfactory glands are overwhelmed by the burning of incense. Of course, that need not be necessary and almost certainly was not the case with Ignatius who led a persecuted minority meeting in secret in the second century A.D.

What if instead of the medieval to modern image of these words we associate the term “episkopos” (overseer) with one pastoring a the church in an area and consider later developments to be an accidental product of Christianity’s growth in large metropolitan areas and its favor by the later Roman Empire? What if the role of this “bishop” is understood not as a “prince of the Church” but as one leading the presbyters (elders) and laity in governing the local church and serving as both a sign of unity and a link to the Apostles?

And what if the Eucharist was far less formal than a High Mass and the Church’s offering of thanksgiving to God that followed the Lord’s example at the Last Supper and remembered His instruction to “do this in remembrance of me”? What if the identification of the elements as “the body and blood” was not wrapped in the ontological subtleties of Greek philosophy but the simple language of faith where, following Paul, they saw this rite as “proclaiming the Lord’s death until He comes again” without regard to developing an exact sacramentology? If the weekly Eucharist celebrated under a bishop were more associated with these images rather than that of the later medieval images would there be any real objections? If I am correct, the problem may be more one of style than substance.

Given the evidence we have, it seems fairly obvious that the Eucharist was a normative part of the worship of the Church. Of course there may have been exceptions – as their were with other elements of the faith due to confusion and poor teaching – but every declaration of how Christians conduct their worship includes it. The only good reason for thinking it would be otherwise are assertions that it was otherwise in the New Testament period. Of course, this itself is an issue since the New Testament does not give us explicity instructions for worship. It does, however, give much implicit evidence of the liturgical nature of the early Church’s worship and of the Eucharist as a central part of that worship. That New Testament evidence shall be our next topic.

This interaction of the Word and Sacrament can be seen in the description of how the early Christians worshipped by Justin Martyr in the second century A.D.:

And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who succours the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers sojourning among us, and in a word takes care of all who are in need. But Sunday is the day on which we all hold our common assembly, because it is the first day on which God, having wrought a change in the darkness and matter, made the world; and Jesus Christ our Saviour on the same day rose from the dead. For He was crucified on the day before that of Saturn (Saturday); and on the day after that of Saturn, which is the day of the Sun, having appeared to His apostles and disciples, He taught them these things, which we have submitted to you also for your consideration.

In this synopsis of the Church’s early liturgy, we see the Word read and preached and this is then followed by the celebration of the Sacrament. The Sacrament is not a replacement of the Word but is itself a rite instituted by the Lord in the Word. The Word of God has Jesus giving us specific instructions on what to do in remembrance of Him and we find in many churches that which he declares “do this” interpreted as “do anything but this.”

The problem began in the medieval period within the Western Church when the Western Roman Empire collapsed and was the Greco-Roman social order was replaced by Franko-Germanic feudalism. There is no motivation to exhort those whose role in life was little more than property to the local nobility to go out and change the world. You were Christian because your prince was Christian and that was all you needed to know. The role of the clergy was now that of local nobles with specific duties whereby they needed to provide the Sacrements when necessary. The use of the Sacraments was on the basis of need and communion was infrequent for all except the priests and monastics. Only when one was close to death would communion be given and usually after receiving the last rites of the Church. Frequent communion was obviously lost in this atmosphere along with the preaching of the Word and the Sacrements took on a magical quality far removed from early Christian understanding.

One did not see the same happening initially in the East. Christians in the Byzantine Empire often toppled bishops and even emperors and the Great Church in Constantinople was burned to the ground on mulitple occasions by rioting laity before Justinian erected the magnificent edifice that still stands. The fact that the Eastern Church had four centers of power rather than one lessened the possibility of radically changing the whole through the corruption of a single see. However, once Constantinople fell and the Patriarch was chosen by the Turks to represent all Christians in the Ottoman Empire, the Eastern church was greatly weakened as this seat of power was opened to the highest (but rarely the most qualified) bidder.

When the Reformation exploded in Western Europe, the emphasis went from duties of the nobles to the function of the ministry. The minister’s primary role was to preach and, although the Sacrement was important to many of the Reformers, it took a back seat to the pulpit. Thus the roles had now reversed. Strangely enough, many Protestants began to argue Communion should be infrequent lest it be trivialized. In a sense, this was the same mindset as the medieval rejection of regualar communion but it became the most common approach within Protestantism.

We must recognize that both the medieval Catholic rejection of frequent reception of communion and the later Protestant rejection of the frequent use of the Communion rite was based in their own respective distortions of worship practices. Medieval Catholicism ignored the Word and turned the Sacrament into a magic show where ignorant peasants became too awestruck to consider receiving the gift Christ had bestowed to the Church. The Reformation had restored the preaching of the Word but it too often seemed confused by the use of the Sacrament as it perhaps feared a return to the previous state. Not considered was the possibility that both approaches distorted the mutually supportive role Word and Sacrament had played in the early Church and the serious consideration of the liturgical context of the New Testament.

The fact is that there is no good theological or pastoral reason for denying either component (Word or Sacrament) that has historically been recognized as integral to the Church’s worship of Christ. Moreover, there are no elements of worship that can be used in a non-Eucharistic service that could not be part of a service with the Eucharist. In my years experiencing traditional Anglican worship, the pattern of the liturgy was to open with a hymn, sing the Kyrie and Gloria, pray an opening collect, hear a declaration of the summary of the Law, hear a reading from the Old Testament, sing one of the Psalms, hear a reading from the Epistles, sing another hymn, hear a reading from the Gospels, have the Word of God preached, recited the Creed, pray for the Church and the world, confess our sins, have the absolution of Christ declared, pass the peace, collect an offering, sing another hymn, sing the Sanctus, sing the Benedictus, the consecration of the Sacrament, sang the Angus Dei, receive the Sacrament, sing another hymn, have a prayer of thanksgiving, have a closing prayer and dismissal, and sing a closing hymn. What exactly is missing? If it is a love for the Te Deum, one could come early for Morning Prayer.

Stating the sacrament should be a regular part of worship does not imply anything else should not also be a regular part of worship nor does it imply that the lack of the Sacrament invalidates other things. It is merely a matter of worshipping the way the Church has always understood. And to understand that, we must next turn to the witness of the early Church.

Despite this, I wish to make very clear that my views on this matter do not imply any belief on my part that those holding opposing views are not “real Christians”. Those seeking blanket indictments of the “other side” may be disappointed but this is not at all the reason for my comments. The source of the disagreement is strictly on historical and theological grounds as I believe the evidence for the early Church celebrating the Eucharist is overwhelming. I believe that those who do not celebrate a weekly Eucharist have deficiencies in their worship. This does not mean the eternal salvation of those who disagree with me is in immediate peril. One suspects many aspects of such disagreements with some Evangelical views are natural considering my Anglican allegiance but the truth is independent of ecclesial affiliation.

In addressing this problem, I will contend there there are four basic issues at hand and each will be covered in the remaining posts in this series. The first is the contention that the Eucharist is placed in opposition or as a replacement for other elements of worship as many suggest the weekly celebration of the Eucharist would somehow negate the use of prayers, hymns, and teaching. The second issue is the witness of Church history that the sacrament is to be a part of the regular worship of the Church. If the consistent praxis is a weekly Eucharist, then it suggests this form of worship was attested to from the earliest days of the Church. The third issue is the witness of the New Testament. While the New Testament does not give explicit liturgical directions, I firmly believe it does imply a context where the Word was preached and the Sacraments administered regularly. Last will be the initial motivation for the exclusion of the Sacrament. I believe a case can be made (and has been made by such Protestant voices as Michael Horton and Keith Mathison) that the exclusion of the Sacrament is rooted in a Protestant variant of the misguided medieval piety that eschewed regular reception of communion by worshippers and transformed the corporate liturgy into a time for individual prayer and devotion.

There is a Latin maxim “Lex orandi, lex credendi” which roughly translates to “the law of prayer in the law of belief.” If our worship informs our beliefs than a deformed worship will inevitably lead to a deformed belief. Many do not realize how our style of worship will affect how we read Scripture and interpret it. It is no coincidence that the first step in the growing apostasy seen in the last few decades took place just as the norms of worship in churches underwent radical change. While this series will not be exhaustive, it will hopefully be food for thought for those who have never considered the issue as important to the life of the Church.

Grieser is currently rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Madison, Wisconsin and is described by Griffith as a revisionist while serving in the Diocese of Upper South Carolina. In his post, he outlines many of his concerns that point to the accelerating decline of the Episcopal Church:

In 2003, we were completely unprepared for the impact of General Convention, understandably so, because of the date of Bishop Robinson’s election. In 2012, we know what is coming. We know that there will be media scrutiny and intense discussion in the Anglican blogosphere, From what I can tell of the materials produced by the SCLM, and from what I can tell of what I’ve read, they seem both somewhat superficial and often incomprehensible.

For me, the important question is this: How is General Convention preparing us in local parishes deal with the controversy? And I don’t primarily mean the conversations over the shape liturgies might take. What materials are they providing local clergy to deal with the phone call from the local newspaper reporter who is writing an article on the topic and interviewing conservative Christian leaders as well?

Once again, my guess is that General Convention is going to leave us to our own devices, ill-prepared and ill-equipped to deal with the local consequences of its actions and increasingly curious why so many of us in the church want to have nothing to do with it.

That’s why I despair of the future of the Episcopal Church. I’ve been active in the Episcopal Church for two decades, I’ve been involved in parish leadership for a decade, and every General Convention in that time has contributed to conflict in the parish and led to diversion of precious resources of time, energy, and passion. I’m looking forward to GC 2012 with fear and trembling.

Griffith pretty much hits the nail on the head with his own response to Grieser’s concerns and why he doesn’t fret about the outcome of the General Convention:

Because I know what will happen in Indianapolis. I know who will gather there… and who will not.

I know what they will do, and what they will not do.

I don’t look at GC12 and wonder, “What will become of my parish?”, or “What will become of my diocese?”, and certainly not “What will become of the Episcopal Church.”

I know what will happen: The Episcopal Church will continue its free-fall into irrelevancy and incoherency. Around my diocese and my parish, there will be a few families who leave, but most of them will shake their heads for a moment at the shame of it all, cluck their tongues, then say, “At least our bishop won’t be allowing any of that nonsense down here. Nosirree…”

All the while, blissfully ignorant that he has no choice in the matter. Oh, he won’t have to cave to the gay cabal any time soon, and perhaps won’t ever have to. If he doesn’t retire in a few years, he’ll be left alone by 815 to serve out his episcopacy in relative peace. But if he succeeds in holding the line, he will, without a doubt, be the last bishop of his diocese to do so. If he or any aspiring candidate thinks his successor will be able to keep from authorizing gay blessings in his churches, he is sadly mistaken. Compliance to the New Order will shortly be a requirement for all incoming bishops.

No, the Episcopal Church’s fate is sealed, and knowing that gives me a kind of solace and circumspection Fr. Geiser can only dream of.

As a former parishioner of the Church of the Good Shepherd (Rosemont, PA), I certainly concur with Mr. Griffith on these points. I remained with my parish as it faced attacks by the Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania and its apostate bishop Charles Bennison in the hope that, should the parish succeed in its efforts, a path in keeping with its heritage rather than absorption into the Roman Ordinariate would be the outcome. When this was clearly not the case, the parishioners who wished to go to Rome formed their own group under the former Rector. Those wishing to remain Anglican now had two choices:

1) play the string out in Good Shepherd, don’t make any waves with the diocese, and hope to be left alone.

2) begin searching for a home outside the Episcopal Church.

I chose the second option. I am still not sure what direction I should take but the Episcopal Church is not a viable option as it has turned its back on the Gospel and its Savior and now is run by apostate parasites playing churchmen while living off the inheritance of dead Christians. Some I know to be solid Christians have remained but they will eventually face the choice of loyalties and must choose either Christ or a grand building. They will not be allowed to remain in that place unless they accept the new religion to some degree. What Griffith has spoken of in the future tense is the norm for most dioceses in the Episcopal Church with Pennsylvania among the most unwelcoming for those who believe salvation comes through Jesus Christ.

Yet the Rev. Greiser, along with many others, wonder how this all could happen and why those in charge are leading the Episcopal Church to self-destruction. Here, Griffith again cuts through the hand-wringing and gets to the heart of the matter:

He and his compatriots threw in with this agenda, figuring they had found their generation’s civil rights movement, and that all the warm social-justice fuzzy which accrued to that movement 50 years ago would accrue to theirs as well. They figured they would be heroes. They figured far more people would applaud them for their courage, and reward with them their presence and contributions, than would ever be alienated and driven off by the depravity and hollowness of their cause.

They figured wrong.

The decline in membership, attendance, giving, and legitimacy in the Episcopal Church has coincided with many things, but make no mistake: There is one and only one thing that has caused it, and that’s an abandonment of the core doctrines of the faith in favor of new-age spiritualism, and a celebration of sexual deviancy practiced by perhaps two percent of the country’s population…

…They went starry-eyed as the church welcomed all sorts of strange doctrines, and winked at old heresies dressed up in new threads.

They cheered as 815 filed lawsuit after lawsuit against departing parishes and dioceses. They applauded as good people were run out of their houses of worship – houses they built with their own money and sweat, where they buried their parents and children.

And they applauded as godly men were charged with ecclesial transgressions, and run out of the church they had so faithfully served for years, often decades.

No doubt they pumped many a fist as those who dared not toe the revisionist line were shown the door, after a display of strong-armed tactics for which the current presiding bishop and her staff have become so famous.

What Fr. Grieser and his allies are seeing now, though, is that all the shows of force – little and big, hasty and well-planned – weren’t just for the orthodox. They were also – perhaps especially – for the liberals.

Because now, you have no levers to pull. You have no one to whom to appeal. The presiding bishop doesn’t care if you’re unhappy. The executive council doesn’t care if you’re afraid. And if you’ve ever been to General Convention, you’ll know that not a single one of the assembled kooks cares if you’re not down with The Plan.

You gave the powers that be a blank check, and you demanded of them no accountability. Just keep bringing back the scalps. Now you wring your hands that they have gone too far, too fast, that they aren’t listening to you, and that there’s no one looking out for you and your flock.

You are all alone, together.

Amen.

Liturgy derives from the Greek word leitourgia that is a reference to a public work (or work of the people). In Greco-Roman society, it might refer to the expenditures of a wealthy private citizen for the benefit of his city or, in a religious context, the work of an individual on behalf of a deity. It is a word that had been adapted by Greek speaking Jews to grasp the concept of the act of public worship – particular when dealing with the ritual aspects of Jewish life – and this use was carried on by the early Church. For example, in Acts 13.2, the word often translated as “minister” or “worship” is actually a form of leitourgia – the connection is even stronger since it mentions fasting which has a more formal ritual context within Judaism.

The list of those things the early Church followed in Acts mention both “the prayers” (rather than just the less formal “prayer”) – indicating the formal reciting of Scriptural prayers common in Jewish life – and “the breaking of bread” – an obvious reference to the Lord’s Supper. Breaking bread always had a ritual aspect within Near Eastern society as a sign of welcoming into one’s household and was always accompanied by a prayer of thanksgiving. The connection is made clear by the Lord’s giving thanks at the breaking of bread and the use of the term “Eucharist” (derived from the Greek for “thanksgiving”) by the early Church to describe the feast.

Thus liturgy is not to be seen merely as a set of rubrics one agrees upon during a worship service but as the external signs that guide us to an ordered life in union with our fellow believers in the service of God. Certain elements may be more or less formal, they may occur at a grand cathedral or a humble country church, but these all give both reminders and substance to the idea of having a role in Christ’s body. In liturgy, we discipline ourselves to worship God with our entire being – not just our intellect or our emotions.

The neglect of such discipline is often a first step towards a faith based upon pure gnosis. Often accompanied by an arid legalism, it ignores the implications of the Incarnation by fostering dualist tendencies that deaden the senses and limit Christ’s redemption to a purely intellectual enterprise. It is not surprising that one outgrowth of this unhealthy dualism was to favor the other extreme in encouraging all manner of emotional and physical manifestations devoid of any sense of discipline and order.

The Church has always understood the importance of correct worship and adapted the order of Jewish liturgical practice for Christian ends. There is a time of preparation at the beginning where we ask the Lord for mercy and guidance. Readings from the Old Testament, Psalms, Epistles, and the Gospels are given and the Word is then preached. Having heard both our culpability under the Law and the forgiveness in Christ given by the Gospel, we offer prayers, confess our sins, ask forgiveness, and receive the declaration of absolution in Christ. The Liturgy of the Word then ends with the Creed wherein we proclaim the truth of the God we serve.

Then the Church begins the celebration of the Eucharist. There are probably as many theories of what happens as there are churches but the Church has taught from the very first that we are united with our Lord though grace in the Sacrament. Theories of a “mere symbolism” employ modern concepts of the term “symbol” that have no place in the ancient world. There is no doubt in either Scripture or the early Church Fathers that the Sacrament was identified with the body and blood of the Lord.

The arguments against the Real Presence are uniformly weak. It is often pointed out that Jesus often used metaphors for describing Himself such as a vine, a door, etc. Yet the description in the Last Supper fails any test of a metaphor. Metaphorical expressions point to indefinite objects that are used to embody a trait of the particular. Thus a hypothetical vine and branches are used to describe the connection between Jesus and His Church. But the institution of the Last Supper shows Jesus pointing to specific instances of the object and not generalizations. He does not state “My body is bread.” (in a generality) but “THIS (bread) is my body.” Similarly, He does not point to a general category of wine but a specific cup. The particular cases of the elements in the context of the Passover feast and His coming sacrifice on the cross testify to the mystery brought forth in the Sacrament.

This mystery is attested to by Paul (I Corinthians 11:17-33) who declares that when we partake we are “proclaiming the Lord’s death until He comes again”. In this way, we see the Eucharist as placing us before the cross of Christ and the sacrifice of His body and the shedding of His blood. He warns the Church against “profaning the body and blood of the Lord” and that partaking in an unworthy manner would be eating and drinking condemnation upon ourselves even unto physical death. Does this sound like a mere symbol? Moreover, if the improper partaking of the Sacrament could be so injurious then does it not seem that the proper acceptance would be nourishing to the Christian’s spiritual well being?

Christians have always understood the connection between the Passover, the Eucharist, and the Cross. In Hebrews, we see that the New Covenant casts aside the types and shadows and gives us a foretaste of eternity. Unlike the old sacrifices that had no power aside from their pointing to the promise of Christ and each required new blood, the new covenant has Christ’s once for all sacrifice that each Eucharist makes present.

Jesus is our High Priest of the order of Melchizadek. This is a reference to Genesis 14:18-20) where Melchizadek was both a king and a priest of God whose name meant “King of Righteousness” and whose title as King of Salem means “King of Peace”. He also is mentioned in the messianic prophecy (Psalm 110:4) to which Hebrews refers. The order is the covenantal form and its corresponding liturgical actions. This is shown as Melchizadek blesses Abraham and through a ritual offering of bread and wine (indicated by Abraham’s response with a tithe of his possessions). Just as the type arrives to bless Abraham through bread and wine, the fulfillment comes to us and blesses us through the bread and wine of the Eucharist. And just as Abraham responded by presenting his offering, we the spiritual children of Abraham are to respond by presenting ourselves as a holy and living sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is our spiritual service (leitourgos) in worship (Romans 12:1).

The fullness of the liturgy of the Eucharist is seen most clearly in the unfolding of the heavenly vision in the Book of Revelation. Many Evangelicals have a notoriously difficult time in understanding this book because the underlying references are foreign to them. It is best seen as a prophetic vision symbolized in the language of a heavenly liturgy with its rich sacrificial images and rich form. The Church has recognized this connection and the hymn of the angels given in the Sanctus (Holy, Holy, Holy) which is sung as the Church Militant is joined with the Church Triumphant and all the heavenly hosts and adds its voice to this song of praise. After the distribution of the Sacrament, prayers of thanksgiving are made and the Church is dismissed to carry on its mission.

One might note that I have not specified any but the basic details above. Indeed, there need not be an exact script in liturgy. The important point is respecting the order given in God’s Word within our worship. The particular points may be more or less formal, use more or less rubrics, and be more or less scripted. The key elements are the basic form that shows Law and Gospel and allows God’s grace to proceed through its normal means of Word and Sacrament. Liturgy is less about creating a style of worship that it is about not getting in the way of God. It is the way the Church protects its worship from its members.

A proper Christian liturgy must have Scripture, prayer (whether spoken or sung in hymns), the confession of sin, the acceptance of forgiveness, a basic statement of belief, and the Eucharist. Many churches have forsaken many of these points – particularly the last – as if Jesus’ command to “do this” were not clear enough.

Some would object too the ancient practice of the Church with its overt Christian symbolism as troubling to newcomers and suggest a more “seeker-friendly” style as an alternative. Others believe that a style more attractive to contemporary sensibilities and sensitive to their needs is necessary to build the Church. Both of these claims are misguided and reflect the self-centeredness and lack of understanding of the true purpose of worship.

The first of these objections misunderstands the entire purpose of worship. A style of worship geared to encourage the unchurched to attend can only do so by being something other than the Church. The truth of sin and our need for Christ as Savior will by its nature trouble those outside the Church; but through this challenge true conversion is made as His flock will hear His voice. Moreover, such a form of worship must invariably focus on the shallow, avoid the challenges the Gospel presents to a dying world, and forces the Church to abandon its history and its calling.

The second objection again misses the true purpose of worship by forcing worship to conform to rather than challenge the culture. This does not mean we cannot adapt what is good in the culture for our own ends – the Church has done so with various styles of music and with the philosophical discourse of classical thought. However, such adaptation must be done with discernment and not accepted wholesale.

For example, the Church Fathers saw in such philosophers as Plato, Aristotle, and Plotinus an acceptance of the spiritual, a confirmation of absolutes, and a movement toward a single cause of the universe. They applauded these philosophers’ movement towards monotheism and adapted their metaphysical terminology for Christian ends but did not hesitate to deny less compatible elements of their philosophy and rejected wholesale the philosophical systems of others that were based upon materialism.

The problem is that much of modern and postmodern thought is so thoroughly naturalistic that it is inconceivable how one could possibly do justice to the Christian message. And with postmodernism’s denial of absolutes, one wonders what could be made of a Christ that proclaims Himself “the way, the truth, and the life.” Furthermore, the milieu of contemporary popular culture is so engrossed in the trivial and mundane and so geared to the empowerment of the individual and the fulfillment of his felt needs, there is little place for self-denial, sacrifice, and the subsuming of one’s will to the Body of Christ.

Even more disturbing in both objections is an underlying acceptance of the contemporary zeitgeist. The root of both is that the central focus of worship is man and not God. When we gear our worship to be “seeker friendly” or conform it to popular style, we are creating something to please ourselves and not God. The Holy Scriptures and the unbroken tradition of the Church have made it abundantly clear the basic template for the worship of the Church. It can be adapted in its inessential elements to reflect the local notions of reverence and awe, but these qualities are the proper way to approach the presence of the Most High – not the shallowness and triviality of so much of what passes as contemporary style.

Man is not the center of worship – this position belongs to God alone. Nor is the wish fulfillment of man to have a tranquil life a key ingredient. It is the preparation to go out into the world and fulfill His will for our lives that should bring us to Him. Worship is not a place to hear practical applications to lead lives of comfort nor is it a tool for evangelization. Worship is the gathering of God’s people to give thanks to Him and to receive His blessing by the means He has given them. Rather than an entertainment outlet or seminar on positive thinking, it is better understood as a hospital where sinners are called to their Lord and are nourished by His grace in both Word and Sacrament until they pass on to eternity.

In worship, we confess our sins not because we are afraid He will not forgive them but because He has promised He will. We listen to His Word not because we can’t read it at home but because we can never hear enough of it. We receive the Eucharist not because we are hungry for symbols but because He has promised He would give us Himself in these symbols.

Christ calls the Church His body, He states He is there when two or more are gathered in His name, and promises the gates of hell will not prevail against us. He makes no such promise for each of us on our own. The Groom shall come for His bride – not an informal gathering of like minded individuals. The Church has been called to worship in a manner that reflects the order of creation. Worship has an order to reflect God’s purpose and this order is fulfilled in the liturgy.

Although Schaeffer is remembered as the philosopher of the religious right, he was often ambivalent to those who used his thoughts to steer an Evangelical vision of public polity. His concern for reaching a new generation with the Gospel, his hope that engaging the modern world bring it to its senses, and his love for higher culture would be lost on those who saw God’s hand guiding unbridled greed. Just as C. S. Lewis’ smoking, drinking, love of literature, and Anglicanism were ignored in the construction of an Evangelical hagiography, so Schaeffer’s Christian humanism and Reformed theology were ignored by Christian conservatives of the Reagan era in the making of his legend.

A key to understanding Schaeffer is that his theology derived from a the form of Protestantism that held sway in America until the early twentieth century and not its more recent manifestations. Rooted in a Puritan vision of the place of America and the duty of Christians to spread the Gospel and build the shining city upon a hill, this Protestant consensus constructed a vast network of missionary and social welfare organizations designed to create a perfect Christian society that would then spread across the globe. As sincere as they were in their endeavors, these nineteenth century Christians and the later inheriters of their ideas who lionized their efforts did not recognize the entire project was rooted in a modernist vision of culture. Both the secularists of the post-Englightement era and the Christians of the same period believed in the while the former sought to eliminate Christ from culture entirely.

Thus a misplaced confidence in progress as a social force was as much a part of the modern Christian vision as its secular counterpart. In America, the two were interchangeable as Christians viewed their role in terms of a manifest destiny. Even the philosophical determinism of modernist secular thought had its own counterpart in a Calvinist theology that had absorbed mechanistic and even dualistic tendencies that eroded the sacramental richness of Calvin’s own theology and reduced it to a five-point soteriological acronym.

Even the high place for science that is so characteristic of modernism was reflected in a “scientific” approach to the Bible. This view saw Holy Scripture as a source of data to be mined as one would with nature in scientific experiments. This data was then categorized and fashioned into propositional statements to answer any conceivable question on the faith. The problem with this approach is its complete misapplication of method. Scientific experimentation is based on the assumption that the field of discourse is the same at all times and places. That is, the laws of nature are constant and the scientist may be seen as a neutral observer. The problem applying this methodology to Holy Scripture is that the words of the texts presuppose a cultural, historical, and cultic context that is radically different from the observer and any assumption of the observers’ assumed norms introduces an anachronistic contamination by contemporary contexts.

This cultural vision began to unravel in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century by a combination of forces. Primary among them is that the very certainty the approach assured was based upon assuming its conclusions. The determinism at its core proved to be a two edged sword as what some saw as testimony to God’s sovereignty others saw as pointing to God’s dispensability. When one adds the controversy over Darwinian evolution, the rise of theological liberalism, and the undermining of the Newtonian physics that had supplied confidence in their world view, one could see fault lines beginning to appear. The sterility of this theology fostered a need for a faith that acknowledged the composite nature of mankind and a more experiential faith took root. Add in the huge losses of life from both World War I and the influenza pandemic and a change in outlook from the utopian belief in progress was inevitable.

American Protestantism would split with the mainline churches veering towards liberalism and new churches formed with more conservative beliefs. The followers of the older consensus were initially leaders of the newer conservative churches and led the movement that published The Fundamentals (from which fundamentalism gets its name). However, this group soon found themselves outnumbered by newer conservative theologies with a far more populist. This younger generation took a far more pessimistic tone, chose to separate themselves from the culture rather than challenge it, and embraced such novel doctrines as dispensationalist eschatology that mirrored their gloomy outlook. While conservative Calvinism never would fade away completely, they found themselves a dwindling force in what became American Evangelicalism.

It would be in this Calvinist remnant that Francis Schaeffer found his theological home. He attended Westminster Theological Seminary under the tutelage of both Cornelius Van Til and J. Gresham Machen and their influence can be seen in much of his theology. Both were fierce opponents of liberalism and Schaeffer’s own arguments echo his mentors. Perhaps the difference is that Schaeffer was far more practical in his approach and he geared his attacks on liberalism to reaching a lost generation. However, much of his thinking seems to argue that we would solve the crisis in culture by returning to the earlier Protestant consensus without recognizing the inextricable links in modernism between this older consensus and the crises that followed.

However, none of his theoretical misstepts mattered much when Francis Schaeffer first burst onto the Evangelical stage in the late 1960’s. By then, things had changed drastically since the turn of the century. Far from the cerebral approach of the past, conservative Protestantism was largely characterized by an intellectual sloth that frustrated young Evangelicals. When his early books were published, these young Evangelicals saw in Schaeffer someone who spoke to their dissatisfaction with both secularism and the current state of Evangelicalism.

In Schaeffer, young Evangelicals had found a champion who could take on the larger culture and explain its current malaise as a retreat from the categories provided by the Christian faith. Far from suggesting a withdrawal into a fundamentalist ghetto, Schaeffer issued a clarion call for Christians to join the war raging between two diametrically opposed worldviews with the souls of men as the battlefield. A new generation of Evangelicals gleefully repented of their intellectual shallowness and embraced Schaeffer’s appeals to think and act as a Christian. Their exhilaration was quite palpable as for the first time they believed they could see all the pieces of the cultural puzzle put together in a consistent Christian apologia. Instead of an isolated issue approach, Schaeffer’s writings provided an extensive critique of philosophy, art, music, science, and almost any other topic with cultural impact. More importantly, he provided an intellectual framework for Evangelicals to categorize their conflict with the secular world.

Yet as convincing as Schaeffer was to many Evangelicals, he was not so admired outside the Evangelical fold. It can be argued that we should expect the world to reject Christian thinkers and certainly some of the animosity thrown his way was related to his uncompromizing zeal for the faith. However, other criticisms were due to his mischaracterizations of the philosophers, musicians, and artists who did not meet with his approval – including those of other Christian traditions. For example, his comments on the views of Aquinas reveal that he could not have read much by the great theologian as he makes numerous accusations that are demonstrably false. This overt hostility to other Christian traditions often closed him to great contributions to the Chritstian intellectual patrimony.

My own first experience reading Schaeffer was far less than satisfying. This was not long after I had read Coppleston’s epic History of Philosophy and this had sparked my own interest in reading the sources firsthand. With some background in the material, I quickly became frustrated by Schaeffer’s numerous gaffes and poorly reasoned generalizations and wrote him off completely as out of touch with the major currents in Western thought.

In later years, my view has softened somewhat. I have come to appreciate the testimony of so many Christians who were introduced to the idea of critical thining by his writings. While many realize his errors, they are appreciative that he awakened them to the life of the mind and showed one could be a thinking Christian. He also earns admiration and repect for his work in the trenches at L’Abri and elsewhere and his desire to reach a generation most Christians had written off as lost. It is the Francis Schaeffer who shared his faith with love and zeal – and not the cultural critic who often stumbled in his evaluations – that is best remembered.

Yet, even this more sympathetic view of Schaeffer’s impact still raises the question of his legacy. After all, his impact on Evangelicalism has largely been through his writings and not his personal witness. Thus, while conceding his importance to the history of Evangelicalism and also acknowledging his desire to bring sinners to a saving knowledge of the risen Lord, we must come to grips with his overall impact. In particular, has the vision he provided helped or hindered Evangelicalism? The answer to this question is as perplexing as Schaeffer himself.

Perhaps it is best to say that Schaeffer had the best impact on those he introduced to the intellectual life and the worst on those who never went beyond his simplistic analyses. Prior to Schaeffer, Evangelicals had retreated inward and were rarely involved in standing against the culture on issues such as abortion. Many of those he introduced to such concerns would go on to build bridges with other Christians to form a united front against the “culture of death.” Yet at the same time as his writings inspired many to take heroic stands, others were led by his sloganeering to become part of a new power politics as he became the intellectual mentor for the “religious right” and its confusion of American interests with divine mandates.

Much of this confusion around Schaeffer’s ideas arose because Schaeffer misunderstood many of those he was critiquing. His analysis of such thinkers as Aquinas, Hegel, and Kierkegaard are often little more than straw man caricatures to be toppled. For example, his attempt to paint Aquinas as the founder of an autonomous humanism is not only ridiculous on its own merits but avoids the obvious connection between the autonomous individual and the Protestantism he supports. It becomes clear very quickly that his views can be reduced to the proposition that anything not connected to the culture produced by the Reformation – before or after – is bad and that only Reformation era culture can produce a proper Christian worldview.

Such a presupposition ignores the fact tha Christian culture long flourished without the cultural categories Schaeffer finds imperative. Moreover, he has a highly romantic view of the Protestant past that ignores its attachment to modernistic assumptions if not to modernism itself. Seeing in any phase of the Church a pristine state that had neither precedent nor consequence is based on a very poor understanding of history. In Schaeffer’s case, the beliefs inherited from an earlier cultural consensus rooted in modernism show forth in easily refuted presuppositions.

It is unfortunate that so key a figure should be so thoroughly misinformed on so many subjects. One cannot write if off as mere hyperbole. There have been many well-known critiques of modernism such as Russell Kirk, C. S. Lewis, Richard M. Weaver, G. K. Chesterton, and others that had been known to stretch a point on occasion. However, each of these men had actually understood the worldview of those they were critiquing. One can only conclude that Schaeffer never seriously interacted with opposing views outside the framework he had inhertied from his mentors.

Overall, Schaeffer’s role as a pivotal figure in the history of Evangelicalism cannot be denied. To his credit, he encouraged many Evangelicals to leave their self-imposed separation and engage the culture. Many have used his writings as a launching pad to an analysis more consistent with the history of the West. However, the more negative effects of his legacy such as a Protestant triumphalism that distorted the views of those who did not share his Protestant outlook had some lasting repercussions within conservative Protestant thinking. At his best, he pointed Christians to the life of the mind; at his worst he presented a misinformed outlook of what that life might be.

In God’s revelation to man in Holy Scripture, man reintroduces chaos into the world through the rejection of His creative order by claiming a place that was not theirs that and causing the fall. It was not the ends with which man was tempted, to be like God, that was the issue as God would have rewarded man with full communion with the divine and offers this again through Jesus Christ. Rather, it was man’s desire to attain divine status apart from God and replace God at the center of creation that caused the fall and exiled us from union with God until the coming of Christ into the world.

It is a testimony to God’s love for His creation that He did not withdraw His sustaining power and allow the universe to cease – but it is also a reflection of His plan that He will not impose His order upon us through brute force. We are saved through grace and in His grace we come to understand His order of creation – however imperfectly on this side of eternity. This grace will aid us through the trials of this life and sustain us until we attain the bliss of the life to come. Yet even in this fallen state, the world still reflects some of the perfection of God’s plan and we can comprehend, however imperfectly, an order in creation.

This order of creation reflects, however imperfectly, the order within the Holy Trinity. Although all three persons are fully divine and worshipped, it is from the Father that the Son is eternally begotten and the Holy Spirit eternally proceeds. The Son has witnessed to us the complete obedience to the will of His Father that is our calling. Unable from the fall to meet this end, the Father has through His grace sent the Holy Spirt so we may come to the Him through His Son Jesus Christ who becamne Incarnate, dwelt among us, lived in perfect obedience to the Father’s will, was crucified, resurrected, and ascended back to the Father’s right hand from which He will come again in glory at the end of days.

Just as the creation was brought to order in stages, so God’s revelation to us of the restoration of order came in stages. Glimpses of God’s plan were given through promises made throughout the Old Testament pointing to the final fulfillment in Jesus Christ. And just as God’s will was reflected by those who followed the types of Christ in their respect of order in both leadership and manner of worship, so such an order is to be reflected in Christ’s Church.

This submission to ecclesial and liturgical order is not to be understood as a license for those in positions of leadership to invent new and fanciful doctrines and services. Nor does respect of leadership permit those under another’s care to be absolved of responsibility for following heretical beliefs and practices under the guise of submission. The Church is to constantly test what is being taught by that which has been handed down in Holy Scripture as understood by the Church throughout its existence. Those placed in leadership are to be in submission to the teaching of Christ and the Apostles and to remain consistent with Church teaching.

While some degree of novelty may be permissible in the explanation of existing beliefs or a development of an existing doctrine that clarifies its content, contradictions of that already revealed only introduces disorder into the Church. Similarly, schism on those matters not deemed by the Church as essential to her doctrine or on matters not yet clearly defined by the Church is to be avoided. Unity is to be maintained in essentials with tolerance on other matters.

The very idea of respecting leadership is out of step both with the modern notion of democratic rule and the postmodern emphasis on the subjective judgment of the individual. Instead, the Church maintains its essence by the strict preservation of its traditional teachings through its consistent interpretation of Holy Scripture, the creeds and definitions of its councils, and the practice preserved in its liturgical traditions. It is a great irony that those who clamor the loudest for freedom in the Church are the first ones to mute the Word of God and deny a voice to those of the Church triumphant who now have their abode with Him. It is through Holy Scripture that we hear God speaking to us and through the Church’s tradition that we give voice to Christians on the other side of glory who have traveled the narrow road.

Those who claim the Church was not hierarchal from its inception must do so on the basis of something other than the words of Holy Scripture. Just as God’s own nature is the hierarchy of the Trinity, so God’s people are ordered in their existence. There are fathers who have leadership over their families, rulers have leadership over their subjects, and so we should expect the same to occur in the Church. The Church universal is the bride of Christ and subject to His leadership. So each individual church would be given leadership that would both preserve true doctrine and the unity of the Church universal.

This divinely ordained role of leadership should neither be seen as permitting despotism nor requiring blind obedience in any of its manifestations. Leadership is to reflect the perfect love of God the Father for mankind and Christ for His bride the Church. Families should not be expected to suffer silently the horrors of an abusive husband and father, nations cannot be blamed for ridding themselves of a despotic tyrant, and churches are not required to follow heretical and apostate leadership into their sins. However, abuses of order do not permit the introduction of more disorder but rather the best path ahead within God’s plan.

In the particular case of the Church, the ongoing role of leadership is presaged from the very beginnings of Christ’s ministry on earth. From among His followers He chose special roles for the seventy and then the twelve. Even among the twelve there was an inner circle of Peter, James, and John who were often taken by the Lord aside at key points in His ministry. Every list of the twelve would include Peter at the head and Judas last – reflecting the Church’s own judgment of their standing. It was with the Apostles that Jesus instituted the Eucharistic celebration, gave the power to bind and loose sins, and gave the Great Commission.

This use of leadership did not cease after Christ ascended. The first act of the Church after Christ’s ascension was to go into prayer and from this they discerned it was necessary to fill the role left vacant by Judas’ betrayal and death. Leadership was exercised by the Apostles throughout the Church’s early years as shown clearly by the deference given to them by other Christians, their role in ordaining leadership for the Church, and their assuming the role of ruling on the matter of the mission to the gentiles.

When Paul asserted his role as an apostle, his claim would not rest solely on the revelation he received from Christ but also upon the apostles’ confirmation of this mission and his leadership role. He would then instruct younger leaders like Timothy to go to the local churches and ordain elders in his role of leadership for the Church universal. Rather than being an individualist, at every step in his ministry he submitted himself to the authority of the Church, held fast to her teaching, and instructed others to do the same.

The eventual evolution of the Church into an Episcopal form of government is not the departure that many would assert. The primary call of the Apostles was the Great Commission and to shepherd the Church through its formative phase. As a local Church would become established, it applied the model common to the Jews of the time: a concilliar government of elders overseen by a presiding office. For example, in the synagogue the rabbi was deferred to but not in a slavish manner and elders would be consulted in matters of importance. This model would serve the Church as it had its own overseers in bishops and its own set of elders as well as deacons to assist the bishop in his functions.

We see the model first applied in Jerusalem. When the Apostles left for Antioch, James the Just assumed the leadership in Jerusalem together with the elders there. As the Apostles dispersed from Antioch, it was Ignatius who would take the role of bishop and Polycarp would do the same in Smyrna. With the spread of the Church, existing local churches would reach maturity at different times and eventually have their own bishops.

It is not to be assumed that the role of the bishop would be the same in every place. Much would depend on the state of the local church, the particular situation the church found itself in at each location, and the personal qualities of the bishop himself. A bishop in one place might wield great authority while in another might be more as the presiding elder. The position itself became a sign of unity as these men – chosen to lead by the Apostles and those directly under their supervision – would be seen as a bulwark against the fledgling heretical movements that were assuming the name “Christian” for themselves.

Claims that a monarchial structure was imposed on the Church are an anachronistic imposition of later ideas. The role of the bishop was not that of singular rule but as a shepherd who would lead the Church in her liturgy and represent the unity of the Church universal in her belief and practice. We should see in Ignatius’ plea to do all things through the bishop a similarity to the Jewish maxim “nothing gets done without the rebbe” rather than the development of an ecclesial lord. It is a respect for order and not the surrender to monarchy that is reflected in the respect given to the episcopate. Later post-Apostolic offices such as those of metropolitan (archbishop) and patriarch were not essential to the Church and were primarily for administering the growing number of local churches.

As the Apostles passed away, the leadership of the Church passed to the bishops and the presbyters under their direction. The spread of Christianity was now supported by local churches at the edge of the current expansion sending missionaries and the churches they planted would remain under the care of the sponsoring Church until self-sufficient. In this way, the Great Commission continued and the Church spread throughout Europe, Asia, and North Africa.

The error that would creep into the Church through its blending with the Roman state was not the leadership of bishops – that has long been the practice of the Church – but a gradual change in the episcopal office to a civil rank with privileges and responsibilities that clouded (though it did not obliterate) its true meaning as an iconic reflection of God’s creative order manifested in the Church.

This error was compounded in Protestantism with its denial (in varying degrees) of Church tradition and its emphasis on the functions of the Church. In place of a view of the Church as developing from that of the Apostles, there was an attempt to restrict the Church to its own imagined vision of apostolic purity. Thus the bishop’s role was dispensed with or considered inessential while the presbyterial role was eventually reduced to its functions: preaching the Word, administering the sacraments, exercising church discipline.

Modern American Evangelicalism has merely added to the confusion by taking the functional model to its ultimate end. Once the philosophical foundations of ministry had been altered to reflect utilitarian ends, the emphasis shifted from the revealed will of God to the felt needs of man. Thus the initial functions, which at least had Scriptural warrant, were gradually replaced by those that would meet the goals of church leadership: intellectual respectability, congregational growth, and even the theological aberrations of the pastor.

In the new postmodern forms of churches now “emerging”, the very idea of leadership is rapidly being discarded. The functions of ministry, so long in flux, have now been matched in their amorphousness by the ministerial roles as members of the congregation are seen as more or less interchangeable parts. Duties once believed to be reserved to the clergy are now allotted to various members of the congregation as they so desire. This dispenses the model of the Church as Christ’s body with its members in defined roles acting together under the power of the Holy Spirit to that of an ecclesiological Lego set where roles may be changed at whim and the gifts allotted to some need not be confirmed nor anointed by any standard but one’s own.

The effect on the Church of this evolution in its understanding of leadership has been devastating. The medieval assertion of the bishopric as a political entity would lead not only to corruption and the rise of anti-clericalism but also the loss of contact between the shepherd and his flock. The reforms of Protestantism would combat this evil but at the cost of further distorting the role of the Christian clergy.

As an example of the distortions that can take place, consider the issue of the ordination of women. If the role of ministry is purely functional, then there is no good reason to deny women such a role if they can perform the functions as well or better than their male counterparts. But if the role is that of an iconic representation of God’s determined order, then we see that the natural patriarchy that is revealed by God Himself is to be reflected in the Church’s own life. The role of a shepherd is to act as a spiritual father and to reflect the love of God the Father. The role of the celebrant of the Eucharist is to be an iconic representation of Christ the High Priest and Victim and this is revealed as by necessity male in both its essence and its typological representations. Similarly, headship of the family is given to the father and he is to be a representative of both God the Father in caring for his children and Christ in his love for his bride.

The idea of order is not only shown in the leadership of the Church but also in its worship. Here the concept of liturgy is seen as reflecting the very order of God through the Church’s worship. While no specific prayers are divinely mandated, the twin pillars of the Word and the Sacraments form the outline of Christian worship from the earliest days of the Church. Books of the New Testament that often cause confusion (e.g., Hebrews, Revelation) are much clearer when interpreted in this context. Indeed, much of the liturgy of the Church is taken directly from the very words of Holy Scripture or contains a reference to them.

The movement away from this divine order in worship distorts the Gospel to the point where it could be easily misunderstood for something it is not. An emphasis on the Sacraments minus the Word (as in medieval Catholicism) or the Word minus the Sacraments (as in modern Evangelicalism) again distorts God’s order. We are composite beings and God comes to redeem us in our entirety. Thus salvation has both physical and spiritual components that reflect the order of creation.

The physical without the spiritual can evolve into a form of crass works righteousness. The spiritual without the physical can evolve into a form of semi-gnosticism. Both are distortions of the Gospel and both are violations of God’s order. Only in the reform of such practices into conformity with true Christian teaching can abuses be curtailed and the true faith of the Church thrive.

It is in the faith of the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church that we have a balanced understanding of God’s order and its reflection in our corporate life as the people of God. Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, the meditation upon the truths revealed in Scripture led the Church to develop its doctrine – sometimes kicking and screaming along the way – to point to the revealed truths of God’s order. The prayer of our Lord – that we may be one as He and the Father are one – can only be fully realized when we put aside our personal agendas and return to the order declared by God Himself.

Here is that post in its entirety:

“I’m an Episcopalian. There, I’ve said it. Being an Episcopalian these days is not an all together pleasant task for a faithful Christian. Sometimes I wonder why I stay an Episcopalian – every Sunday reminds me. I am blessed to belong to a faithful parish (Church of the Good Shepherd, Rosemont, PA) which takes the Gospel seriously, takes its liturgy seriously, and remains committed to Jesus Christ. The rector of my parish, the Rev. David Moyer, has been harassed, suspended, and an attempt was made to remove him by the apostate Bishop of the Diocese of Pennsylvania – all to no avail. God has moved mightily in our parish and new families join regularly. We have grown closer to Christ and to each other as those who betray the Gospel attempt to intimidate us by threatening to sue for the property and drive us out if we do not succumb to their agenda. It has all backfired and we remain strong and faithful to our Lord.

I am saddened to see many faithful Episcopalians leave, but I do understand their plight. If I belonged to a parish more attached to the world than Christ, I would be doing the same. I actually have some comfort in knowing the Episcopal Church U.S.A. has suffered a dramatic decline in giving since the Robinson consecration and a number of parishes have even left the ECUSA for the upstart Anglican Mission in America (AMIA) – often leaving now empty buildings and their endowments behind. Apparently the laity of the Episcopal Church was a good deal more Christian than the apostates who control the bureaucracy.

The turmoil in the Anglican Communion is perhaps a sign of life. If the reaction were bland resignation then it would be time to sound taps over Anglicanism. Yet the peculiar witness of the Anglican way – born in the Reformation and yet historic in its worship and traditions – has enriched the Church in both its Catholic and Protestant manifestations. Think of how much the Church would suffer without the writings and witness of men like Thomas Cramner, Richard Hooker, John Henry Newman, John Wesley, C. S. Lewis, J. N. D. Kelly, John Stott, J. I. Packer,…and many more. As in any part of God’s Church, there have always been saints and sinners mixed. There have been periods of faithlessness followed by great renewal. I expect God is not done with us quite yet.

One sign of hope is the rapid growth of Anglicanism in the Africa and Asia. The churches there are among the most faithful anywhere in the world. The people their have little and yet they give to God’s work all they have. Often they face great persecution from corrupt governments and/or Muslim majorities and many pay with their lives. But, as always, the blood of the martyrs has been the seed of the Church. Our problems seem small compared to theirs.

Eventually, the Epsicopal Church will be reformed. If not, it will wither and a new expression of Anglicanism will take its place in America. The many faithful Christians who have suffered silently in the pews for decades (and there is a lot more than the apostates ever dreamed) have been awakened by the Robinson consecration and are voting with their feet and their checkbooks. Furthermore, the apostates who have seized control are spiritual geldings – they produce no fruit. The parishes they control grow increasingly empty and gray as only those whose commitment is to their memories remain. They attract no new blood and die a slow and painful death. God will not be mocked.

So, I’m hopeful for the future. No matter the outcome for the Episcopal Church – or the Anglican Communion – the victory of Christ and His Church is assured. The gates of hell shall not prevail…”

I was wrong. Not on the gates of hell but on the Anglican Communion.

The Anglican Communion has not righted itself and the alphabet soup of various traditional alternatives only confirm the impression that Anglicanism cannot get its act together. This is a profound tragedy for just when many Evangelicals are looking for deeper roots in the historic Christian faith, the natural choice of Anglicanism as a Protestant tradition with such roots is in complete disarray. Yes, there are some bright spots here and there but overall the outlook is bleak for anyone with a love of the historic Christian faith eagerly seeking to make a home within Anglicanism.

For the last decade or so, I was a member of the Church of the Good Shepherd Rosemont. My parish had long been in a seemingly endless battle with the Diocese of Pennsylvania over both property and the status of its rector, the Rev. David Moyer, who was inhibited by the diocesan bishop and eventually was consecrated a bishop by a continuing Anglican group. Eventually he was ousted by the courts in a long legal struggle and during the battle alienated many of his former supporters by some questionable moves (I shall discuss this at a later time). However, there was still no doubt in my mind he held orthodox beliefs about Jesus Christ and the faith once delievered even if he, as with us all, had some personal failings.

The Episcopal Church, on the other hand, was another matter. They have, since the time my earlier post was written, descended into the depths of apostasy. They are an unchurch that supports views that imperil the soul and lead their followers to indifference and despair. Their leadership are parasites who live off the funds of dead Christians but, as spiritual geldings, bear no new fruit. They merely use the goodwill of others to fund their own worldly political goals rather than seeking to spread the Gospel to a dying world. Those of the orthodox who think the consecration of an openly gay bishop (Gene Robinson) created this apostasy have lived with their heads in the sand. The Robinson consecration was merely a symptom of a slow withering disease that has drained the vitality from the Episcopal Church. When supposedly orthodox bishops can remain in communion with complete apostates like John Shelby Spong without as much as a sign of action against him, they should not complain when the corrupt seed they allowed to be planted grows into a harvest of abominations.

After the legal decision, the parish has split in numerous directions. Many have followed Rev. Moyer and formed the Blessed John Henry Newman Fellowship and hope to enter the Ordinariate set up by the Catholic Church to welcome Anglican parishes wishing to enter the Roman Communion. I wish them well in this endeavor but I am not of like mind and hold essential doctrinal disagreements with Rome.

Others in the parish (I am not certain how many) have decided to remain at Good Shepherd and attempt to pick up the pieces. These are solid orthodox folks and they have a former curate at the parish as their interim rector. However, they are now affiliated with the Episcopal Unchurch in general and in a diocese whose bishop (Charles Bennison) is an apostate and an enemy of the Gospel. For now, they will be tolerated and expected to maintain their status of dhimmitude but greater and greater pressures will be placed upon they buckle or leave. Even a small outpost of quiet orthodoxy will not be tolerated by the new religion.

For myself and some others, there is a wandering in the desert looking for God to lead us to a new home. I have attended a small continuing church parish a few times but my familiarity with Anglicanism and the dramas of the continuing Anglican churches have left me doubtful of the longterm viability of such parishes. Even the ACNA led by Robert Duncan has its issues. Its bishops were among those who tolerated the longterm descent into apostasy without a fight and seem content to merely turn the clock back to one week prior to the Robinson consecration. Without an agreed upon understanding of the limits of Anglican orthodoxy, this is merely an amalgamation of splinter groups – each with their own agenda – that will self-destruct as the continuing church did a generation earlier. For those curious, yes I have considered Eastern Orthodoxy but have not yet investigated it fully. This will perhaps be a clearer option if and when I conclude the Anglican tradition is no longer viable.

However, I keep hoping, perhaps against the odds, that Anglicanism is viable. I think it is important for Protestantism to maintain some connection to the historic church. Over the centuries, this has largely been maintained through Anglican belief and praxis. Moreover, the best defense of the Reformation as a movement seeking to bring back a true catholic outlook has been given by Anglican scholars. Without a strong Anglican tradition, Protestantism as a whole suffers and the current rootlessness of Evangelicalism is left unchallenged. This is why I continue to hope but the hope but I may soon be reaching a decision to abandon Anglicanism: not the idea but the reality.