Anglicanism: City of Confusion

Un articolo dalla New Oxford Review per capire le vicende anglicane ed i rapporti con la Chiesa Cattolica.



ANGLICANISM: City of Confusion

Some say it began this July. Others say it started in 2003. Some say it began in 1989; some say 1988. Some say 1976; still others 1930. But the demise of Anglicanism could be said to have truly begun in the 1530s, when King Henry VIII in effect "nationalized" the Catholic Church in England in order to divorce his wife, Catherine of Aragon, thus inaugurating what would eventually become known as the Anglican Communion, currently home to 77 million souls worldwide.

It was in 1930 that the Anglican Communion approved artificial contraception for married couples. In 1976 the Communion approved the ordination of women. In 1988 the Communion paved the way for female bishops. In 1989 the first openly homosexual man was ordained an Anglican priest. In 2003 the first openly homosexual man was consecrated an Anglican bishop.

This July, in defiance of a 2006 moratorium, the Episcopal Church (TEC; formerly ECUSA), the U.S. branch of the Anglican Communion, approved a resolution to continue consecrating homosexual bishops. So now there is a lesbian candidate for the Anglican bishopric of Minnesota, and a "gay" male and another lesbian candidate for the assistant bishopric of Los Angeles.

Since the 2003 consecration of "Vicky" Gene Robinson, an open and active homosexual, as Anglican Bishop of New Hampshire by TEC, the Anglican Communion has been experiencing a deepening crisis, an increased fracturing. Alternative Anglican groups have sprung up worldwide, including the Anglican Church in North America this year, a more traditionally minded alternative to TEC that is seeking recognition from Canterbury, England, the primary "see" of the Anglican Communion.

Cries of "schism" have been hurled with greater frequency at TEC since its July resolution for thumbing its nose at Anglican "authority." Prominent Anglican biblical scholar N.T. Wright, Anglican bishop of Durham, England, has compared the situation to a "slow-moving train crash" (The Times, July 15), saying that TEC has made a "clear break" from the Anglican Communion and has "formalized the schism they initiated six years ago when they consecrated a divorced man in an active same-sex relationship [Gene Robinson], against the [Anglican] Primates' unanimous statement that this would 'tear the fabric of the Communion at its deepest level.'"

Austen Ivereigh, in a synopsis of the situation in Our Sunday Visitor (Aug. 9), writes that "schism" is "the wrong word for what is taking place." The Anglican Communion, he says, is "not sufficiently united to constitute a body from which the TEC can separate: It is a loose federation of self-governing churches with only the office of the archbishop of Canterbury and the once-a-decade gathering of bishops at Lambeth as its 'instruments of unity.'"

Whichever way you cut it, and whenever it began, the Anglican train has jumped the tracks and is careening toward destruction. Rowan Williams, archbishop of Canterbury, the de facto "head" of the Anglican Communion, went into damage-control mode after learning of TEC's latest move. In a statement released July 27, Williams countered that it is "hard to see" how homosexuals can "act in the necessarily representative role that the ordained ministry, especially the episcopate, requires," given that same-sex unions are not authorized by the Communion. At least not yet. TEC has also passed a resolution authorizing the blessing of same-sex "marriages."

To stave off what most observers consider certain doom, Williams has proposed a "two-track model" for the Anglican Communion. In Williams's vision, the Communion would be split into a bifurcated entity with regional bodies that "share certain aspects of a vision of how the Church should be and behave" and which sign a "covenant" pact on biblical orthodoxy on one track, and "associated" bodies that refuse to sign the covenant but still retain a "less formal" partnership with "fewer formal expectations" on the other track. Williams figures that "both 'tracks' should be able to pursue what they believe God is calling them to be as Church, with greater integrity and consistency," while still maintaining at least the outward appearance of unity. Presto, no "schism."

But can a single train run on two divergent tracks?

Williams claims that there are "two styles of being Anglican." Why stop at just two? Maybe there are three ways of "being Anglican," or fourteen, or fifty, or six thousand -- or even 77 million ways of "being Anglican." Once one rupture is tolerated and absorbed, it won't be long before others demand similar recognition.

The famed Catholic convert from Anglicanism, John Henry Cardinal Newman, the leading luminary of the 19th-century Oxford Movement, once referred to the Anglican system as a "City of Confusion." His words ring truer now than when he first uttered them. Confusion reigns in the Anglican Communion; its identity is rent, its future uncertain, its doctrinal divisions deep. And poor Archbishop Williams wants desperately to paper it over for the sake of a superficial unity. How are Catholics to look upon this new Anglican dilemma? There are two schools of thought.

According to Rome correspondent Sandro Magister, Archbishop Williams enjoys "widespread respect and sympathy" among the Catholic hierarchy (Chiesa, Aug. 3). Williams appealed to the Vatican for support for his "two-track" proposal and it was granted him: An article in L'Osservatore Romano, the official Vatican newspaper, ran a sympathetic summary of his proposal the day after its release; and Walter Cardinal Kasper, president of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, released a statement the following day in which he prayed that the Anglican Communion might "maintain its unity and its witness to Christ as a worldwide communion." The thinking is that a unified Anglican Communion offers a greater possibility for "corporate reunion" -- i.e., the movement of the entire body (or a significant part) of the Anglican Communion into the Catholic Church.

This is a wish devoutly to be hoped for. Cardinal Newman, who while an Anglican held out similar hope, took a dim view of the idea of corporate reunion after his conversion. He called it "a dream" to think of "uniting the two religions." Yes, he came to consider Catholicism and Anglicanism to be different religions, rejecting the theory that Anglicanism is a via media between Catholicism and Protestantism. That is, he saw Anglicanism as nothing more than mere Protestantism, but with more alluring ritual paraphernalia. Each of its recent decisions against tradition and biblical standards has been a step further away from its Catholic origins. Among the harsh epithets Cardinal Newman reserved for the Anglican Communion (identified then as the Church of England) were "a tomb of what once was living," "a casket of treasures which has been lost," and "the veriest of nonentities."

Anne Barbeau Gardiner, in her review of the late Newman scholar Fr. Stanley L. Jaki's book Newman to Converts (NOR, May 2002), wrote that "schemes of reunion can jeopardize the salvation of a soul in the sense that someone on the brink of entering the Catholic Church might be tempted to work toward, and wait for, corporate reunion, thus letting the moment of grace slip away forever."

Fr. Jaki himself wrote that "genuine union with Rome, in the form of individual conversions, was the sole logical goal of the Oxford Movement" ("The Malines Conversation & What Was Malign There," NOR, Jul.-Aug. 2002; italics added). In fact, writes Fr. Jaki, Newman predicted in 1877 that Anglicanism would "fall more and more prey to agnosticism and infidelity." Again, his assessment of his former tradition turned out to be right on the money. It was imperative, Newman felt, to "run to the aid of all Anglicans before most of them had lost their Christian standing." How long before it is too late?

Cardinal Newman is the man for this moment in history. It can hardly be a coincidence that the cause for his canonization is proceeding full steam ahead. On July 3 the Vatican's Congregation for the Causes of Saints announced that Pope Benedict XVI approved the authentication of a 2001 miracle realized through the intercession of Cardinal Newman. Deacon Jack Sullivan of Boston, who suffered from a crippling spinal disorder, prayed for Newman's intercession after watching an EWTN program about the venerable Cardinal. Deacon Sullivan awoke the next morning free of pain. Eight months later the pain returned, and he again prayed for Newman's intercession. Once more the pain disappeared. Doctors could find no natural explanation for the cure. A lengthy Vatican investigation verified its supernatural origin.

Cardinal Newman's beatification is now certain; advance reports from Rome indicate that it will take place in early 2010. Newman's canonization must wait until a second miracle is verified by the Pope.

Pope Pius XII once said, "You may be sure, Newman one day will become a Doctor of the Church." For this to happen Newman must first be beatified and canonized. For these to occur miracles must be obtained through his intercession. This will only happen, Fr. Jaki said, once "enough Catholics" begin to "pray for miracles with an intensity that alone secures a positive response from Heaven" ("Newman: Myth & Facts," NOR, Nov. 2001).

Cardinal Newman once described the Anglican system as "a palace of ice, hard and cold as were they, and when summer came, it all melted away." We are perhaps witnessing the melting away of Anglicanism. We can only hope that the runoff flows into the Tiber and the floundering souls find their true home in the Catholic Church, which Newman posited as "the Mother of Saints" over against the Anglican "City of Confusion."