On the Creeds
The issue of the historical creeds of the Church came up often in the columns of the Christian Compass. The debate was less on their obligatory nature and more on whether they expressed truths about Christianity and, if so, whether they were good or useful means of expressing them. The articles are presented in the order in which they appeared. Not all the content in the earlier pieces concerns the creeds directly, but the debates that were started came to focus upon them.
Christian Compass 5, winter 2000/2001
Although I have been a clergyman for 40 years my views have gradually become more radical. I now regard myself as a Christian Humanist. My present beliefs are based upon Reason, Experience, Scripture and Tradition. I find St Augustine's prayer helpful: ‘Thou, O God, hast made us for Thyself and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in thee’. However, I do not see God as a person but as the spirit of love in the universe. Yet I relate to God in a personal way by promoting good and opposing evil. Justice demands; Duty calls; God requires!
Believing in evolution, I do not believe in Adam and Eve or the Fall of Man. I believe in original blessing rather than original sin and I desire to emphasise thanksgiving and not guilt (although of course we all fall short of our ideals). The most important question, surely, is not ‘Are you saved?’ but ‘Are you growing in love?’ Today, in our scientific age, ‘the actual existence of goodness helps us to understand the idea of God’ (Iris Murdoch).
Historically, we have moved from the Age of God Almighty through the Age of God the Father to the Age of God the Spirit. We are just catching up with the Jesus who taught that God is Spirit and God is Love. As the Quakers say, there is that of God in everyone. Let us separate the spiritual from the supernatural; the spiritual having to do with the human spirit - beauty, truth and goodness, while the supernatural has to do with agencies supposed to be above nature - angels and demons. ‘There is the devil of greed and the devil of violence, we need only be afraid of ourselves; the supernatural is a manufactured article’ (Joseph Conrad).
I have experienced love which, it seems to me, is not a product of the evolutionary process. The echoes of the existence of God come to us through the capacity of human beings to love and to create the various forms of art. I see God as a permeating influence and not a controlling power. Whatever happens in this life is not determined by God’s plan but is encompassed by his love. I think this is illustrated by the death of Jesus. He represented God; his legalised murder was the inevitable result of his radical anti-establishment teaching and life. Yet throughout his ordeal Jesus demonstrated love and forgiveness.
Although I have been a clergyman for 40 years my views have gradually become more radical. I now regard myself as a Christian Humanist. My present beliefs are based upon Reason, Experience, Scripture and Tradition. I find St Augustine's prayer helpful: ‘Thou, O God, hast made us for Thyself and our hearts are restless till they find their rest in thee’. However, I do not see God as a person but as the spirit of love in the universe. Yet I relate to God in a personal way by promoting good and opposing evil. Justice demands; Duty calls; God requires!
Believing in evolution, I do not believe in Adam and Eve or the Fall of Man. I believe in original blessing rather than original sin and I desire to emphasise thanksgiving and not guilt (although of course we all fall short of our ideals). The most important question, surely, is not ‘Are you saved?’ but ‘Are you growing in love?’ Today, in our scientific age, ‘the actual existence of goodness helps us to understand the idea of God’ (Iris Murdoch).
Historically, we have moved from the Age of God Almighty through the Age of God the Father to the Age of God the Spirit. We are just catching up with the Jesus who taught that God is Spirit and God is Love. As the Quakers say, there is that of God in everyone. Let us separate the spiritual from the supernatural; the spiritual having to do with the human spirit - beauty, truth and goodness, while the supernatural has to do with agencies supposed to be above nature - angels and demons. ‘There is the devil of greed and the devil of violence, we need only be afraid of ourselves; the supernatural is a manufactured article’ (Joseph Conrad).
I have experienced love which, it seems to me, is not a product of the evolutionary process. The echoes of the existence of God come to us through the capacity of human beings to love and to create the various forms of art. I see God as a permeating influence and not a controlling power. Whatever happens in this life is not determined by God’s plan but is encompassed by his love. I think this is illustrated by the death of Jesus. He represented God; his legalised murder was the inevitable result of his radical anti-establishment teaching and life. Yet throughout his ordeal Jesus demonstrated love and forgiveness.
Christian Compass 6, spring 2001
First, a word about creeds. Those who begin by rejecting the creeds of the Church usually go on to set out their personal creed. But there is more to be said for the official creeds than ‘radical’ Christians suppose. They bind together most of ‘the competing churches and sects’ and, though the churches and sects have often devised their own denominational articles of belief (the Thirty Nine Articles, the Westminster and Augsburg Confessions, etc), the influence of those articles in Church life is slowly fading, at least in the Protestant Churches.
The creeds say nothing of original sin, the atonement, the way in which the Scriptures are inspired or authoritative, forms of ministry, or sacramental doctrine, all matters on which ‘the competing churches and sects’ are divided. Their statements can be and are interpreted in widely different ways. The Nicene and Athanasian creeds do declare a belief in the doctrine of the Trinity and a particular Christology, and that does exclude some Christians, like Unitarians. But their ecumenical and unifying character for a huge range of denominations must not be underestimated. They are immensely superior to thousands of competing individual creeds.
Thinking about Raymond Davies’ ‘Apologia’, I was reminded of the Irishman who told the traveller that if he wished to go to Dublin he should not start from where he was. God is not, in traditional orthodox belief, a ‘person’; D.M. Baillie thought it a peculiarly Anglican heresy that he is. No doubt the Greek word corresponds roughly, very roughly, to our word ‘person’, but a ‘person’ in common parlance is a being separate from other persons. God is, in Trinitarian belief, three ‘persons’ in one God. We need to be quite clear that the analogies by which we describe the incomprehensible - Father, Lord, King, Shepherd, Rock (Scripture also likens him to a mother, lion, wolf and leopard), or a being, or even the Supreme Being - are just that; analogies by which Scripture or philosophers describe God, but never exact statements of his true nature. God is not, for example, strictly speaking, ‘a being’, not even ‘the Supreme Being’ (which places him as supreme within the class of beings). He cannot even be said to 'exist' as other beings or objects exist. God is the one in whom all beings live, move and have their being, and from whom all derive their existence. We do experience him as personal, and the Holy Spirit is described as a person, that is, not a mere influence, but having at least the highest form of consciousness and capacity for relationship which we know.
It is useful to distinguish ‘believe in’ from ‘believe that’, though in common speech the first is often used in the second sense. Like Raymond Davies, I do not believe that Adam and Eve were historical persons. But nor do most other Christians today, and probably a significant number over the last two thousand years. St Paul's references to Adam may best be understood if he did not think of him as a historical person. In Anglicanism since the 1880s the notion that there is a conflict between the story of Adam and Eve and the theory of evolution has been a dead duck. I do not know whether I believe in original sin, because I do not know what that doctrine means (Augustine, Anselm, Luther, Calvin, etc disagree). Nor do I know what ‘original blessing’ means. For me to believe in Adam and Eve is to believe that humanity (‘Adam’) is fundamentally good, but falls into sin by its own will - not only by the individual will, but also through the false values of the societies into which we are born. Despite the terrible events of the last century, modern worship often lacks a sense of the exceeding sinfulness of sin. ‘We all fall short of our ideals’ is a very inadequate response to Auschwitz.
If one accepts the theory of evolution (as I do), then love must be part of the evolutionary process. Teilhard de Chardin, in his own way, set out that it is; love is both the product of evolution and also the act of the spirit of God.
I would also query the use of the word ‘radical’. The most radical view of this world is that there is outside us, above us, far beyond us, but also within us, closer to us than the veins in our neck, a God who is utterly different from us, immense in love and terrible in judgement. He is not there as our servant to bless us when we want it, nor to confirm the ideals of the society in which we happen to live, but to place a radical question mark over all our doings and our whole existence. A God who is the product of our imaginings and ideals, including the notions of what love requires, is not a radical God, but a conservative God, likely to be conservative in every sense of that word. Mankind, though, has always been adept at plastering onto God and Christ its own ideals!
First, a word about creeds. Those who begin by rejecting the creeds of the Church usually go on to set out their personal creed. But there is more to be said for the official creeds than ‘radical’ Christians suppose. They bind together most of ‘the competing churches and sects’ and, though the churches and sects have often devised their own denominational articles of belief (the Thirty Nine Articles, the Westminster and Augsburg Confessions, etc), the influence of those articles in Church life is slowly fading, at least in the Protestant Churches.
The creeds say nothing of original sin, the atonement, the way in which the Scriptures are inspired or authoritative, forms of ministry, or sacramental doctrine, all matters on which ‘the competing churches and sects’ are divided. Their statements can be and are interpreted in widely different ways. The Nicene and Athanasian creeds do declare a belief in the doctrine of the Trinity and a particular Christology, and that does exclude some Christians, like Unitarians. But their ecumenical and unifying character for a huge range of denominations must not be underestimated. They are immensely superior to thousands of competing individual creeds.
Thinking about Raymond Davies’ ‘Apologia’, I was reminded of the Irishman who told the traveller that if he wished to go to Dublin he should not start from where he was. God is not, in traditional orthodox belief, a ‘person’; D.M. Baillie thought it a peculiarly Anglican heresy that he is. No doubt the Greek word corresponds roughly, very roughly, to our word ‘person’, but a ‘person’ in common parlance is a being separate from other persons. God is, in Trinitarian belief, three ‘persons’ in one God. We need to be quite clear that the analogies by which we describe the incomprehensible - Father, Lord, King, Shepherd, Rock (Scripture also likens him to a mother, lion, wolf and leopard), or a being, or even the Supreme Being - are just that; analogies by which Scripture or philosophers describe God, but never exact statements of his true nature. God is not, for example, strictly speaking, ‘a being’, not even ‘the Supreme Being’ (which places him as supreme within the class of beings). He cannot even be said to 'exist' as other beings or objects exist. God is the one in whom all beings live, move and have their being, and from whom all derive their existence. We do experience him as personal, and the Holy Spirit is described as a person, that is, not a mere influence, but having at least the highest form of consciousness and capacity for relationship which we know.
It is useful to distinguish ‘believe in’ from ‘believe that’, though in common speech the first is often used in the second sense. Like Raymond Davies, I do not believe that Adam and Eve were historical persons. But nor do most other Christians today, and probably a significant number over the last two thousand years. St Paul's references to Adam may best be understood if he did not think of him as a historical person. In Anglicanism since the 1880s the notion that there is a conflict between the story of Adam and Eve and the theory of evolution has been a dead duck. I do not know whether I believe in original sin, because I do not know what that doctrine means (Augustine, Anselm, Luther, Calvin, etc disagree). Nor do I know what ‘original blessing’ means. For me to believe in Adam and Eve is to believe that humanity (‘Adam’) is fundamentally good, but falls into sin by its own will - not only by the individual will, but also through the false values of the societies into which we are born. Despite the terrible events of the last century, modern worship often lacks a sense of the exceeding sinfulness of sin. ‘We all fall short of our ideals’ is a very inadequate response to Auschwitz.
If one accepts the theory of evolution (as I do), then love must be part of the evolutionary process. Teilhard de Chardin, in his own way, set out that it is; love is both the product of evolution and also the act of the spirit of God.
I would also query the use of the word ‘radical’. The most radical view of this world is that there is outside us, above us, far beyond us, but also within us, closer to us than the veins in our neck, a God who is utterly different from us, immense in love and terrible in judgement. He is not there as our servant to bless us when we want it, nor to confirm the ideals of the society in which we happen to live, but to place a radical question mark over all our doings and our whole existence. A God who is the product of our imaginings and ideals, including the notions of what love requires, is not a radical God, but a conservative God, likely to be conservative in every sense of that word. Mankind, though, has always been adept at plastering onto God and Christ its own ideals!
Christian Compass 7, summer 2001
Peter Winstone’s article in issue 6 of the Compass contains much excellent material on the reality of God and on love as the evolutionary peak. Our 'imaginings' are indeed subject to a judgement far greater than ours. Peter's last paragraph is truly inspiring. Fortunately I was able to put my hand on the superbly honest ‘Apologia’ of Raymond Davies (issue 5) to which Peter was responding. I could therefore understand the debate more fully.
Sadly, however, I must disagree with my kind and longstanding friend. It cannot be said that the Nicene Creed binds together the ‘competing churches and sects’. Peter Winstone has not substantiated his view that the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds are better than ‘competing individual creeds’. The best thing for any honest scholar to do is to evaluate every text, including a creed, in terms of the particular context.
From the first century Christians searched for an agreed summary of belief; the motive was not only unity but self-identity. Christians could not easily be distinguished from Jews. The latter were known by their ethnic origin and ethical behaviour, viz. food laws, marriage fidelity, circumcision and Sabbath observance. On the other hand the morality of Christians varied, some being celibate, some observing the Jewish Torah, some choosing 'freedom'. So a definition of belief was required in order to differentiate between orthodox ('true' believers) and the others. However much the creed-makers claimed to unify, in effect they were excluding.
From the second century the creed-makers reckoned to define the belief shared by the wider ‘catholic’ Church; in practice they were excluding those who had the audacity to disagree among themselves in their search for truth, principally the Gnostics. In the fourth century the desire to unify was equated with the need to exercise political control; probably the Roman Emperor chose Christianity partly because it was already adept at suppressing deviant forms (though its ‘internationalism’ and monotheism also attracted). This is how the Nicene Creed came into existence, but even that most authoritative of creeds was not easily accepted: after being promulgated in 325 AD it was subsequently rejected by the majority and finally revised in 381 AD. The Nicene Creed was specifically designed to exclude the Arians who threatened to split the empire - and in fact did just that after the death of Constantine.
Even in this country uniformity of belief was considered essential for political unity until about three centuries ago. Toleration began with a Yorkshireman (born just three miles from where I am writing): Archbishop Tillotson set the Church’s sails towards Latitudinarianism. Many Anglicans still follow that course. It means inclusive Christianity.
I admit there is still a good deal of traditionalism around. People want to affirm the old values and old forms of service. In many respects I am a traditionalist as regards style of worship, church music, etc. Loyalty to the Creed is probably part of this current traditionalism. But amongst clergy the practice of dropping the Creed or replacing it, is widespread. Very few lay Anglicans translate their dedication to the Creed into a condemnation of Unitarians. As an Anglican priest for half a century, my position is unequivocal: if Unitarians say they are Christian we must respect that - just as we respect Muslims or atheists as being what they are. There is no longer a problem of identity. There is no longer any need to demand religious conformity as a proof of patriotism. We live in a different age. It is a better age in the sense that we are free to choose the inclusiveness of Jesus and avoid the contradictions of his followers.
Peter Winstone’s article in issue 6 of the Compass contains much excellent material on the reality of God and on love as the evolutionary peak. Our 'imaginings' are indeed subject to a judgement far greater than ours. Peter's last paragraph is truly inspiring. Fortunately I was able to put my hand on the superbly honest ‘Apologia’ of Raymond Davies (issue 5) to which Peter was responding. I could therefore understand the debate more fully.
Sadly, however, I must disagree with my kind and longstanding friend. It cannot be said that the Nicene Creed binds together the ‘competing churches and sects’. Peter Winstone has not substantiated his view that the Nicene and Athanasian Creeds are better than ‘competing individual creeds’. The best thing for any honest scholar to do is to evaluate every text, including a creed, in terms of the particular context.
From the first century Christians searched for an agreed summary of belief; the motive was not only unity but self-identity. Christians could not easily be distinguished from Jews. The latter were known by their ethnic origin and ethical behaviour, viz. food laws, marriage fidelity, circumcision and Sabbath observance. On the other hand the morality of Christians varied, some being celibate, some observing the Jewish Torah, some choosing 'freedom'. So a definition of belief was required in order to differentiate between orthodox ('true' believers) and the others. However much the creed-makers claimed to unify, in effect they were excluding.
From the second century the creed-makers reckoned to define the belief shared by the wider ‘catholic’ Church; in practice they were excluding those who had the audacity to disagree among themselves in their search for truth, principally the Gnostics. In the fourth century the desire to unify was equated with the need to exercise political control; probably the Roman Emperor chose Christianity partly because it was already adept at suppressing deviant forms (though its ‘internationalism’ and monotheism also attracted). This is how the Nicene Creed came into existence, but even that most authoritative of creeds was not easily accepted: after being promulgated in 325 AD it was subsequently rejected by the majority and finally revised in 381 AD. The Nicene Creed was specifically designed to exclude the Arians who threatened to split the empire - and in fact did just that after the death of Constantine.
Even in this country uniformity of belief was considered essential for political unity until about three centuries ago. Toleration began with a Yorkshireman (born just three miles from where I am writing): Archbishop Tillotson set the Church’s sails towards Latitudinarianism. Many Anglicans still follow that course. It means inclusive Christianity.
I admit there is still a good deal of traditionalism around. People want to affirm the old values and old forms of service. In many respects I am a traditionalist as regards style of worship, church music, etc. Loyalty to the Creed is probably part of this current traditionalism. But amongst clergy the practice of dropping the Creed or replacing it, is widespread. Very few lay Anglicans translate their dedication to the Creed into a condemnation of Unitarians. As an Anglican priest for half a century, my position is unequivocal: if Unitarians say they are Christian we must respect that - just as we respect Muslims or atheists as being what they are. There is no longer a problem of identity. There is no longer any need to demand religious conformity as a proof of patriotism. We live in a different age. It is a better age in the sense that we are free to choose the inclusiveness of Jesus and avoid the contradictions of his followers.
Christian Compass 8, autumn 2001
As my friend Jack Freeborn points out, there is yet more to be said about the Creeds. Certainly their original purpose, at least of the Nicene and Athanasian creeds, and perhaps of the Apostles Creed too, was to define the identity of certain groups of Christians (the 'orthodox') against other groups of Christians (Gnostics, Arians and so forth). And it is certainly true that scholars must evaluate texts, so far as they can, in their original context. They often do so using prejudices which would have amazed the original writers - what was the social context or the role of women for example?
Indeed all texts have also to be understood in the contemporary reader's context as well as the original context. Shakespeare in the epilogue, applies his play 'King Henry V to Essex's expedition to Ireland. During the Second World War Olivier's film drew out the strand of the play which glorifies patriotism and used it most effectively for those times. Kenneth Branagh's more recent production emphasises a different strand in the play for modern audiences: the brutality of war. It would be eccentric to insist that Shakespeare's play ought only to be read as a comment on Essex's expedition to Ireland. And today the creeds are not understood, by and large, as statements of belief by one group of Christians as over against other groups of Christians, as they originally were, but as statements of belief by Christians as over against Muslims (who have a different creed), Buddhists, traditional atheists, and so forth. And they exclude. They exclude such beliefs as, that God is not our Father, that Jesus never lived, that sins cannot be forgiven, that there is no life after death, that Mohammed is the definitive prophet of God, and many others, all beliefs which various groups of non-Christians hold. Problems of identity are always with us.
I have not come across the practice of Anglican clergy dropping the creed. It is not authorised, and the practice of substituting 'home-made' creeds has not been encouraging. Bishop Woodward produced a 'Children's Service' widely used in the 1940s and 1950s, but one of the objections to it was that his children's creed was an inaccurate representation of what most Christians believe. The Church of England's Alternative Service Book 1980 produced a new version of the creed in the Baptism service, which was criticised as an inaccurate, indeed as aheretical, statement of Trinitarian belief, and ithas been replaced in the new Common Worship book by the old Apostles' Creed. Accepting arecent invitation to lead a service, I found I was required to lead a form of belief which I had not met before. A hasty read-through in the vestry before the service convinced me that I could honestly say it, but whether I would have felt the same after the long consideration and widespread consultation which was really required, I don’t know.
I cannot believe that a different creed for each Christian congregation would be helpful, and the ecumenists have reported that the historic creeds do bind together a huge range of competing Christian sects - if not all of them.
As my friend Jack Freeborn points out, there is yet more to be said about the Creeds. Certainly their original purpose, at least of the Nicene and Athanasian creeds, and perhaps of the Apostles Creed too, was to define the identity of certain groups of Christians (the 'orthodox') against other groups of Christians (Gnostics, Arians and so forth). And it is certainly true that scholars must evaluate texts, so far as they can, in their original context. They often do so using prejudices which would have amazed the original writers - what was the social context or the role of women for example?
Indeed all texts have also to be understood in the contemporary reader's context as well as the original context. Shakespeare in the epilogue, applies his play 'King Henry V to Essex's expedition to Ireland. During the Second World War Olivier's film drew out the strand of the play which glorifies patriotism and used it most effectively for those times. Kenneth Branagh's more recent production emphasises a different strand in the play for modern audiences: the brutality of war. It would be eccentric to insist that Shakespeare's play ought only to be read as a comment on Essex's expedition to Ireland. And today the creeds are not understood, by and large, as statements of belief by one group of Christians as over against other groups of Christians, as they originally were, but as statements of belief by Christians as over against Muslims (who have a different creed), Buddhists, traditional atheists, and so forth. And they exclude. They exclude such beliefs as, that God is not our Father, that Jesus never lived, that sins cannot be forgiven, that there is no life after death, that Mohammed is the definitive prophet of God, and many others, all beliefs which various groups of non-Christians hold. Problems of identity are always with us.
I have not come across the practice of Anglican clergy dropping the creed. It is not authorised, and the practice of substituting 'home-made' creeds has not been encouraging. Bishop Woodward produced a 'Children's Service' widely used in the 1940s and 1950s, but one of the objections to it was that his children's creed was an inaccurate representation of what most Christians believe. The Church of England's Alternative Service Book 1980 produced a new version of the creed in the Baptism service, which was criticised as an inaccurate, indeed as aheretical, statement of Trinitarian belief, and ithas been replaced in the new Common Worship book by the old Apostles' Creed. Accepting arecent invitation to lead a service, I found I was required to lead a form of belief which I had not met before. A hasty read-through in the vestry before the service convinced me that I could honestly say it, but whether I would have felt the same after the long consideration and widespread consultation which was really required, I don’t know.
I cannot believe that a different creed for each Christian congregation would be helpful, and the ecumenists have reported that the historic creeds do bind together a huge range of competing Christian sects - if not all of them.
