Things ain’t what they used to be
It is easy for people (like me) to pontificate and to tell everyone else where they are falling short. Besides which, what gives someone like me the right to criticise? That would be fair comment. It is not easy to suggest a positive way forward. I find this especially challenging as I believe that before things can get better, they will probably first have to get worse.
Because we have centuries of Christian tradition – much of it honourable and valuable – behind us, we can be fooled into thinking that all we need to do is to re-establish what we used to have. When in difficulty, it is an understandable reaction to wish to return to the perceived security of the past.
At a great many points in the long history of the church, people have felt a real need to go right back to the perceived simplicity of the age of the apostles. If only it were that simple.
As I stated earlier, when I was a student at New College and for reasons best known to myself at the time, I opted to study the history of the early church rather than the church at the time of the Reformation. Perhaps I naively thought that the early church would be less complicated and easier to understand. I soon had another think coming. There was a dizzyingly wide divergence of beliefs and practices in those far-off days. Most prevalent among those considered as heretics were the Gnostics who were quite ruthlessly suppressed. There were many other divergent practices and schools of thought. The church of the New Testament also managed to function surprisingly well without the written New Testament.
The earliest New Testament writings are probably the letters of Paul, who is much exercised on matters of doctrine and practice and says tantalisingly little about the person and life of Jesus. The four Gospels are later and, of course, there were a great many more apocryphal gospels and similar writings in circulation than are available to us today. Many of these other writings were lost, suppressed or deliberately destroyed. We have the Roman Emperor Constantine to thank for the present New Testament canon. We also have Constantine to thank for the lack of the divine feminine in much of Christian belief and practice.
Whilst it is highly unlikely that the canon of the New Testament will ever be redefined, modern discoveries and rediscoveries have brought some early or “lost” documents to light which give some very interesting insights into life in the early church. Maybe they can also help us to understand some of the problems we are facing in the contemporary church,
When most people think of the early church, they tend to imagine that Nicene orthodoxy emerged more or less after the day of Pentecost. Nothing could be further from the truth. The young church suffered dreadful persecution under some of the Roman emperors. At the same time, this persecuted church could itself be exceedingly harsh and even violent towards those within its own ranks whom it regarded as heretics.
One of the less attractive legacies Constantine has left us is that in most traditions of the western Christian church we still follow a “Roman” model. This involves direction, control and uniformity under the direction of clergy. The Roman model is certainly not confined to the Roman Catholic Church. Indeed, it is very prevalent across many traditions of Protestantism where people are frequently told by the clergy what they “must” believe and do, otherwise...
There is no doubt that many people have an idealised and romantic view of the early church. They forget not only the terrible persecution it had to endure but also the diversity of belief and practice that was prevalent. Much of this centred round the person and nature of Christ. In addition, there were Christian mystery schools and esoteric sects that would surprise and even embarrass us today. It is simply impossible to go back to an idealised apostolic age that probably never existed when we are living in the twenty first century.
Of course, firm doctrine and rigid teaching can bring a real sense of security. These can be both comforting and reassuring. It is one of the major attractions of the modern cults. Like political hard-liners they provide only one simplistic answer to every issue.
In spite of the Reformation, the Protestant churches in many respects followed the Roman model; only the players were different. There was no Pope. Instead there were ministers and Confessions of Faith. We forget that the latter were originally and primarily confessions of faith [my emphasis]. The Scots Confession was a good example.
By a strange accident of history, the Presbyterian Church in Scotland adopted the Westminster Confession of Faith in the seventeenth century. This distinguished document is an English Puritan work, although there was some valued input from Scottish theologians. Yet its influence has been considerable in Scotland and minimal in England. It would be ungracious and totally unworthy for me to rubbish the Westminster Confession. As an established and historical document of faith it deserves to be held in great respect. But it is quite a different matter to suggest that the language or sentiments of the seventeenth century communicate adequately with the twenty first century.
The Church of Scotland accepts the Westminster Confession as its chief subordinate standard recognising liberty of opinion on such matters as do not enter into the substance of the faith. This is the so-called conscience clause. What these “such matters” are is, of course, again classic fudge but it is fudge that has served us surprisingly well. It has actually allowed the Church of Scotland to hold its varied traditions together as a coalition.
There are those who (like me) think that the diversity and inclusiveness of the Kirk has been one of its greatest strengths. Equally, there are those who consider that it is the Kirk’s greatest weakness. It all comes down to perception as do most matters concerning personal faith.
The conscience clause can mean everything and nothing. During the 1970s the Church of Scotland Panel on Doctrine was of a mind to ditch the Westminster Confession and substitute a much shorter Statement of Belief but without a conscience clause. This possibility was widely debated not just at General Assembly and Presbytery level but also by Kirk Sessions. The more conservative evangelicals and the more liberal liberals were curiously united in their opposition to the new Statement – the former because it was a cultural step too far to cut loose from the Confession and the latter because there was no conscience clause to accompany the new Statement which, though relatively brief, was entirely orthodox.
To cut a long story short, the Very Rev Dr Andrew Herron, Clerk to the Presbytery of Glasgow successfully moved that the General Assembly depart from the matter as it was proving too divisive. With an almost audible sigh of relief, the Assembly accepted the motion, It was, once again, easier to hold the Kirk together with a classic fudge.
So we still have the Confession hanging round the necks of the Church of Scotland. Professor James Denney, traditionally one of the darlings of evangelicals, referred to the Confession as that “old man of the sea”. In practice we now raise our hats to it and hurry on. For most people in modern Scotland, the Westminster Confession (if they have even heard of it) has no relevance.
It is (to me) surprising that some of those who are in the process of leaving the Kirk seem to be perfectly at ease at the possibility of joining another Presbyterian tradition that accepts the Westminster Confession without the protection of any conscience clause. Indeed, in some of the stricter Presbyterian traditions an outsider looking in could be forgiven for thinking that the Confession is their chief authority and that the Bible is the subordinate standard.
Just as some people fondly imagine that it is somehow possible to tear up nearly 2,000 years of Christian history and tradition and go back to apostolic principles, so are there those who want to go back to some idealised golden age of Scottish piety that, again, never existed. I confess that I am surprised at how even some ministers still fail to understand that the Church of Scotland is a coalition and has been so for many a long year.
In Scotland, we have a centuries old respect for the Bible. We used to be known as the Land of the Book. At the same time, genuine respect for the Bible and its teachings was, in Scotland, rather different from the aggressive text-jabbing hard-line fundamentalism that has now come into favour in some quarters. In Scotland we have been able to temper our very real and genuine respect for the Word of God with a dose of good old fashioned Scottish common sense.
I would be the last person to suggest that Christian doctrine does not matter. Yet one could be forgiven for thinking that, for some people it seems to be the only thing that matters. There are those who take great pride in calling themselves evangelicals and parade their doctrinal soundness in public like the scribes of the New Testament paraded their long robes.
Yet these same sound people often do little or nothing to proclaim the good news of the Gospel either in word or in deed. People move from one denomination to another and if unable to find one that is entirely suitable go for the easy option of founding their own bespoke independent fellowship which, like a well tailored suit, fits them perfectly in all the right places. There is much nit-picking and criticising and even the broader evangelical movement seems to have become self-obsessed and to have lost sight of its vision. Discussion and dialogue seems to be becoming a thing of the past. Even to ask certain questions now is like poking a wasps’ byke.
Perhaps if a little less time was spent on carping and doctrinal nit-picking and a little more time spent on knocking on a few doors (literally or metaphorically), then Scotland might be a much more Christian country than it is today.
To me, it almost beggars belief that in these days when the Christian faith and the Christian church is being assailed on all sides, when aggressive secularism is making major inroads into society, the evangelicals are in such a disarray and dissemblance. It is as though they are fiddling while Rome burns. Is it because they are so afraid of what is really happening “out there” that they cannot cope with it and turn instead to a self indulgent obsession with doctrinal niceties? Perhaps that is far too harsh. Maybe what we are seeing now is part of a bigger picture. Maybe it is the beginning of the end of the road for the church as we now know it?
Another trend that has not been helpful and which is espoused by many Christians is that there should be a clearer distinction drawn between the spiritual and the material. I find this an extraordinary approach, especially when it most commonly comes from evangelicals. It seems to make a mockery of the incarnation, the mystery that in Jesus Christ, God and man actually came together.
It is simply not good enough for Christians only to concern themselves with Bible study and doctrine, however important and necessary that is. I have even heard some evangelical ministers and elders criticise the Church of Scotland’s own social outreach, as though it was something to be shunned and avoided. It is as though they consider themselves too spiritual to be troubled with such matters leaving them to more liberal Christians or to the state. But surely when Jesus fed the multitude, he fed them on bread that was both spiritual and material.
In fact, looking back at the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it was the evangelicals who were at the forefront of social change. When the early Scottish Chartists used to gather together on Glasgow Green in the early part of the nineteenth century, they owed nothing to Karl Marx (who had not yet been born) but they owed more than perhaps they themselves knew to the legacy of John Knox. The evangelicals seem to have lost much of their social conscience as well as their prophetic voice.
I know that the church as whole is not going to close tomorrow. Yet it would be wilful blindness to ignore the fact that “things” are not looking particularly good at the present time. No one needs to be told that attendances are steadily falling nationally and that the trend is towards an ageing and numerically declining church.
The influence of the Kirk on society in general has greatly reduced, especially since the re-introduction of the Scottish Parliament. On paper, the Church of Scotland is still the established church but that title is no more than an empty shell. It will probably mean even less if Scotland achieves full independence. Scotland is an increasingly secular society in its outlook.[18]
Society as a whole is also much less interested in institutions. This is not surprisingly, given the loss of trust not only in the church but in politicians, entertainers, national and local government, police, hospitals and financial institutions. Scotland used to be famous as a centre of finance and known for its fairness, prudence and probity. The Scottish Banks were institutions that people could look up to. Now our two major Banks are bankrupt (in reality) and a laughing stock on the world stage. This is certainly not the fault of the church, but it does seem to get caught up in the knock on effect.
The institutional church model to which we are accustomed may well not survive the end of this century, apart from in small pockets.
Presbyterianism has been a faithful servant to the people of Scotland. It has influenced many other bodies and probably contributed indirectly to the setting up of the American Constitution. Whilst we have never really enjoyed a fully egalitarian society, there is something about the relatively classless Presbyterian system that has appealed to the mind of many Scots. We would rather be governed and directed in our church life by a number of people, than by a bishop.
Of course, all has not been sweetness and light. Like it or not, the Presbyterian system, which has served us very well in the past, may itself be moving towards its sell-by date. Congregations do not always like to be told by the eldership what they should do, the eldership does not like being told by Presbytery what to do and Presbytery does not always appreciate being told by the General Assembly what to do. Congregations over recent decades have been gradually moving towards a more congregationally-based model. In general, they tend to be much less deferential towards Presbytery which is often commonly perceived as being an interfering “outside” body. The cracks are certainly beginning to show. I suspect that they have been showing for a long time but people have been unwilling to see them.
Society as a whole is also less willing to be told what to believe. People are not content to form part of a passive docile flock who will accept without question what some minister in a high pulpit tells them on Sunday. There is much that they want to question. There is much that they want to discuss. Yet, in most cases, church is the last place they would go to do so. Fortunately, there are exceptions.
Attention has already been drawn to the problem of an ageing ministry. There has been a huge drop-off in numbers offering themselves for full-time service although at the time of writing there have been some more encouraging signs of interest. If there was not a fairly large pool of retired ministers on which to draw to fill gaps caused by vacancies and other ministerial absences, there would be an insufficient supply of ministry even as things are now. In the not too distant future, that pool will reduce as retired ministers inevitably get older and are less able to take on preaching and pastoral duties. Whilst there are people coming forward to train for diaconate and readership, there is not enough to go round, assuming a status quo model.
The honourable vision of the Church of Scotland, as the national (but not the state) church, serving every square inch of the mainland and islands of Scotland through a settled parochial ministry is growing dimmer by the year.
Because so many congregations are uniting out of sheer necessity, Scotland is now littered with closed church buildings. Many of these act as negative advertisements for the Gospel when they fall into disrepair or are converted into public houses and night clubs. These abandoned Victorian buildings give off a strong message that the church is a thing of the dead past and not of the living present or of the future.
Within my living memory, the term “Christian” was synonymous with being hard working and upright, moral and generous. Nowadays, the word tends to a stereotype of a religious fanatic or bore. Few people will readily admit to being Christian at social gatherings or in work-place chat. If they do, it will often be fenced with excuses such as “Of course, I really go to church for my wife’s sake.” Conversely, there will always be some people who will readily admit to being Christian and then weary their listeners with a gratuitous lecture on salvation and damnation (especially the latter).
Many people have come to realise that actually they can get by without the church. Maybe they never got round to having their children “christened” but these same children have still turned out well enough. God (if he exists) does not seem to have withheld his blessing, does he? Work and family life seems to absorb even more of people’s time and who wants to go and sit in a stuffy old fashioned church on a pleasant – or even an unpleasant – Sunday morning?
If a wedding is needed, there are plenty of hotels who offer no-strings-attached secular or humanist weddings (for a fee). Even modern Registry Offices have become comfortable and user-friendly with special rooms and halls dedicated to wedding ceremonies. And who really needs a religious funeral, when the deceased had absolutely no church connection?
Social work functions that had often been pioneered by the church have largely been taken over by the state or by voluntary bodies. There are also many excellent counselling and similar support facilities available from secular agencies and which come without the moralistic baggage that people (usually mistakenly) expect from the church.
There is the popular perception – which is not entirely ill-founded – that the church is obsessed with sex; and if not obsessed, then highly dysfunctional in that area. Certainly, if you look through the Kirk Session minutes of any parish church in the nineteenth century you will find plenty of evidence of what I can only describe as a form of sanctimonious voyeurism. There are sometimes surprisingly vivid accounts of acts of ante nuptial fornication and even of adultery. The ministers and elders seemed to have overlooked the highly inconvenient statement of Jesus [19] that the man who commits adultery in his heart is as guilty as the man who does it in deed. Of course, all of this sexual activity took place in the days before modern birth control methods which now give people the opportunity sexually to have their cake and eat it.
Whilst I do believe that adultery is a very serious wrong because of its elements of betrayal, I would suggest that there are worse matters than the minor sexual sins with which the church often seems obsessed. I remember hearing the late Lord MacLeod of Fuinary referring to them as “mere bagatelle.” Christians can get themselves very worked up about such matters and yet seem to turn a blind eye to some of the greatest affronts in society today. It is easy to fall into the trap of, metaphorically, tithing mint, dill and cumin and yet neglecting the most important aspects of God’s law.[20]
Why do the rich keep getting richer and the poor poorer? Why do certain bankers who misuse enormous sums of money that belong to others get off scot-free? Why do we buy goods that originate under intolerable conditions abroad, just because they are cheaper? Why do poorer people have to pay extortionately high rates of interest? There are many issues on which the church in general and the evangelicals in particular are often strangely silent. Conversely many of the recent pronouncements from “Church and Society” sound depressingly like those from a humanist convention, virtually devoid of theological insight, far less appearing to be in any way prophetic. The announcement by the Archbishop of Canterbury in July 2013 that he intended to take on the pa