English Catholic Spirituality: An Introduction

They say sometimes that you can win a battle but lose the war. It is also possible for you to win the war but lose history. Just ask Oliver Cromwell.

During the period after Cromwell’s great victory in the seventeenth century English Civil War, the English nation was transformed in myriad ways, none more visceral than in religion. The Book of Common Prayer was banished as a relic of the “papistry” it was meant to replace. For a time, other written prayers were allowed, yet even they were eventually deemed too close to papism for comfort. Eventually, ministers were instructed that they could only conduct worship with good, wholesome, biblical prayers that they offered extemporaneously. And so, many clergymen who had dutifully prayed the Office from the Book of Common Prayer all their lives started to lead their congregations through whole sections of Morning and Evening Prayer “off the top of their heads.”

English Catholic spirituality has a long history and a deep well to draw from. It cannot easily be dispensed with or ignored.

Of course, having said that, it is important to note that the clergymen I just referenced were not Catholic. We might call them Anglican, though they themselves would not have known that word. They might have been willing to refer to themselves as “Reformed Catholic,” though that term was more in vogue after the Restoration than before. They certainly would have called themselves Christians and ministers of the Church of England (perhaps even priests, though they would have understood this distinction in a way that would differ from how generations of later Anglo-Catholics would see it). Oddly enough, one moniker they would have been comfortable with is one that I always found deeply uncomfortable when I was an Anglican: Protestant.

Regardless of what they called themselves, though, they would have rejected strongly any insinuation that they were in any way associated with the unreformed Church of Rome. Yet the move they made to retain and conserve their history and theology through the memorizing of liturgical prayers is a deeply Catholic move. The Puritans who objected to the Book of Common Prayer on the grounds that it was too Catholic were not entirely wrong.

As an Ordinariate Catholic, I am blessed to worship each day with some of those same words that those men memorized, words that have been cherished by generations of Anglicans, but I get to do so from within the heart of the Catholic Church, influenced by and interacting with centuries of the great traditions of both the Latin West and the Byzantine East. In the Ordinariates, we have been entrusted with an “Anglican patrimony” for the purposes not only of preserving it but sharing it, as both Anglicanorum Coetibus and its accompanying complementary norms make clear.

Yet there remain legitimate and interesting theological questions about what that patrimony consists of and what that means for the larger Church. Certainly the patrimony includes the celebration of the Mass according to Divine Worship The Missal. But is it more than that? The Anglican tradition has a different pastoral approach than exists in much of the Catholic Church today. How does that fit into the patrimony? There is also a long tradition of ascetical theology in Anglicanism. Much of it is compatible with the faith articulated in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, or can easily be adapted. Does this too now have a home in the Catholic Church?

This series that I begin today, “English Catholic Spirituality,” will be an effort to explore some of these questions, but it will not answer them definitively. Anglicanorum Coetibus is barely ten years old, and the Ordinariate of the Chair of St. Peter in which I serve is a mere seven. In the history of the Church, that is barely a blip. It will likely take many years to work all of these questions out. My goal is much more modest. I want to participate in an ongoing theological conversation. I want to think out loud and to invite others to participate.

A Word About Nomenclature

The title “English Catholic Spirituality” may raise questions for some people. I am choosing not to use the term Anglican. In referring instead to English spirituality, I am invoking in part that classic work by the Anglican theologian Martin Thornton who also chose not to use the word Anglican in his title because he saw the ascetical tradition he was describing as much bigger than that. It would be confusing and unfair to actual Anglicans for me to try to repurpose their name. My hope though is that Anglicans–particularly those of a Catholic mindset–will see in what I am doing something that resonates with their own experience.

I have added, of course, to Thornton’s title the term Catholic. This word can be its own sticky wicket. Undoubtedly, some Anglicans will protest that I should only use this word if I intend to add the word Roman as well, but this is unreasonable. I am overjoyed to be able to call myself a Roman Catholic, but there are twenty-four churches in full communion with the Holy Father who have every right to call themselves Catholic and only one of them is Roman. I use the word Catholic in the same way that Anglicanorum Coetibus does, with reference back to the documents of Vatican II, particularly Lumen Gentium:

The communion of the baptized in the teaching of the Apostles and in the breaking of the eucharistic bread is visibly manifested in the bonds of the profession of the faith in its entirety, of the celebration of all of the sacraments instituted by Christ, and of the governance of the College of Bishops united with its head, the Roman Pontiff.

This single Church of Christ, which we profess in the Creed as one, holy, catholic and apostolic “subsists in the Catholic Church, which is governed by the successor of Peter and by the Bishops in communion with him. Nevertheless, many elements of sanctification and of truth are found outside her visible confines. Since these are gifts properly belonging to the Church of Christ, they are forces impelling towards Catholic unity.”

I describe as Catholic those things which are substantiated in the faith and sacramental life found in those churches that are in communion with the Holy See, but this does not exclude the possibility that there are elements of a true, good, and holy catholicity found in other ecclesial settings. Indeed, the entire concept of the Ordinariates would be impossible if this were not so.

A Few Caveats

This series needs to be understood for what it is not as much as for what it is:

This is not official

I am in no way speaking for the Personal Ordinariate of the Chair of St. Peter, nor do my opinions carry any weight beyond just being my opinions. Moreover, I claim no great expertise. I am a priest who lives and breathes this stuff and who has done a lot of reading over the years, but that is the extent of my qualifications.

This is a blog, not a textbook

Nothing here is peer reviewed. I will not be offering footnotes. I do think that there are books to be written on this subject, but that is not what I am doing here. The purpose is to engage and get conversation going. Do not treat any of this like it’s gospel. And like any good, thinking person should, I reserve the right to change my mind.

This is not apologetics

There is an important place for apologetics and for debating the unique claims of the Catholic Church over and against that of other groups, but this is not it. I realize there are some folks who live to pick fights on the internet. That is not what I am trying to do here. Which is not to say that I do not welcome challenge. In fact, I would be happy if this sparks some good-natured, spirited debates. But the second it devolves into “my guys are better than your guys,” I am going to shut it down. If that is what you are looking for, I suggest going to one of the thousands of other spots on the web that are specifically designed for such exchanges.

All of that being said, I am looking forward to where this new series will go. If there are specific things you hope I might tackle, please let me know.

The air is Catholic

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Recently, I had the rare experience of having a Sunday off. Since my wife was away, I had the boys to myself and decided to take them into the backyard to play with the hose. This is a more trepidatious procedure than you might at first imagine. Both of my boys, ages 7 and 3, are autistic. Among the many difficulties that are part of that is the fact that they will not necessarily come to me when I call them. Since they also often do knuckle headed things like swallowing rocks or running out into traffic, I have to be all over them when we are outside of the house. And since there’s two of them, I do not often take them outside when I am home alone with them since they could run in opposite directions. But on this particular morning, I decided it was worth the risk. I set up a barricade that kept them either inside our screened in porch or in the backyard and watched them play. While my oldest made the water from the hose shoot up and around in all directions, I helped my youngest draw circles on the porch floor with blue and yellow sidewalk chalk. It was an unusually peaceful time with my boys, and I allowed myself to drink that in. I smiled when they laughed. I smelled the sunscreen I had rubbed on their faces and the grass clippings from the previous day’s mowing. I breathed in the moment, trying to hold onto the feeling, allowing my lungs to fill with warm summer air.

It occurred to me later that there was something essentially Catholic about that experience. That may sound odd since obviously a man need not be a Catholic or even any kind of Christian to enjoy a Sunday morning with his children. Yet what I experienced was not just the joy of the moment itself but the way in which that joy is connected to the whole of God’s good work in the world. I felt a profound sense of connection. The sweetness of the air and the sounds of my kids playing were somehow tapped into the mystery of salvation. There is an endless continuity between that moment in time and the crucifixion and resurrection of Our Lord.

A lot of Christians, including many liturgical Protestants, have been taught that the word catholic means universal. That is true up to a point, but it is not quite as accurate as it is to say that catholic means according to the whole. That is what the Greek words that make up our word catholic, κατά and ὅλος, mean literally. When we say that the Church is Catholic, we mean that she is whole, she is full. When we say that we are Catholic, we mean that we share in that wholeness and partake of that fullness. And that means that our entire experience of creation is part of the deal. The boundaries of our faith are far more expansive than what we might otherwise imagine.

One of the things that is often hard to communicate when evangelizing is the fact that Christianity is a way of life far more than a set of theorems. To be sure, there is a rich and vibrant intellectual life in the Catholic tradition that builds off of the foundation of basic doctrine. Nevertheless, having all the basic doctrine boxes checked will not make you a Christian, nor will reading every word of the Summa Theologica give you a Catholic mind and heart. People today want sound byte answers to their questions about life, faith, God, and all the rest, but what they need is to live inside the heart of God. This is why I think that some of the best evangelism today comes not from having the slickest pamphlets with the best answers but from being forthrightly and unabashedly strange. Consider this:

Undoubtedly weird to see eucharistic adoration happening in a public place, yet by allowing the sacred to invade and inhabit the every day, we begin to wake up to the reality that everything is being made holy by the presence of Christ in the world. In a Catholic worldview, the whole world participates in the life that God has given and restored in Christ. The air is Catholic. The trees are Catholic. The act of walking down the street, of buying a slice of pizza, of feeling the sun on your face is Catholic.

The beauty of the Catholic faith is that it brings together all that is true and good into one whole. It integrates and it elevates. There is truth and goodness to be found in a marketplace, and in a classroom, and in a church, and in the backyard with the children on a warm summer day. The Catholic faith takes each of those goods and binds them together through the heart of Jesus so that they all flow forth with His life. In the light of Catholic truth, every moment becomes eucharistic.