Fr Thomas Plant, Anglican Priest and Comparative Theologian

Month: September 2014

St Jerome, or “why the moderns don’t always know best”

“Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls.” Jeremiah 6.16
One of the many infuriating things about me when I was younger, and for all I know perhaps remains so, was my conviction that modern ways are best. Not that I was alone: it’s pretty common for moderns to laugh off and dismiss older ways as backward or regressive. Nor is it anything new. Today’s saint, Jerome, suffered the fate of the traditionalist. 
Active at the turn of the fourth century, Jerome went through the not uncommon route to sainthood of a pious upbringing, a period of youthful and wanton depravity, repentance, conversion, priesthood and devotion to the study and teaching of the faith. In this, he was much like his contemporary Augustine, with whom he did not always get on. They could both be pretty irascible. 
If Augustine’s greatest contributions to Christian thought were in doctrine and ecclesiology (the theology of the structure of the Church), Jerome’s was to Scripture, of which he was a profound, sensitive and learned exponent. In his lifetime, Jerome mastered Latin – his native tongue was Illyrian – Greek and Hebrew, and translated the Hebrew Old Testament and Greek New into Latin, the common (in Latin, ‘vulgatus’)  language of the time. His ‘Vulgate’ Bible became the authoritative edition and was unchallenged until the Reformation. 
The Reformers, of course, knew better. They had rediscovered the ‘original’ Greek in manuscripts newly brought from the East, and had for the first time since in the West before the Dark Ages mastered enough Greek to translate them. They found that the ‘original’ differed in many respects from Jerome’s, and in ways which were conducive to their new Protestant thinking. So, they ditched Jerome. 
The problem was, their ‘original’ Greek manuscripts were actually 11th or 12th century editions, whereas Jerome back in 382 was comparing several different versions whose pedigree he checked exactingly. It was not until the rediscovery of some of those ancient manuscripts in the 19th century that scholars realised that in many cases, Jerome was right and the Reformers were wrong. 
This is just one example of how arrogant views of the past can lead to error. We still live with it today, in a Church divided by errors of doctrine caused by the arrogance of those who thought they knew better. A good day, then, to pray for unity in the Church and to thank God for the work of those saints who truly lead us into His truth. 
The opinions represented herein are those of Thomas Plant only.

By whose authority?

Who has authority? A tricky question for us Brits nowadays. The old authorities have fallen into disrepute – the bankers in the financial crisis; clergy, media figures and even social services in sexual scandal; politicians in both of the above and more. We’re rapidly becoming a country that doesn’t trust any authority at all.

The Russians, in contrast, have fewer doubts, according to a recent poll asking them to name their highest moral authority. At the bottom, about 1 percent named a revered journalist, a Soviet hockey star, a Chechen leader and the Russian Orthodox Church’s Patriarch Kirill. Next up the list came the Defense Minister, scoring 5 percent. In second place, with 9 percent, came Russian cultural figures, such as the novelist Alexander Solzhenitsyn. But guess who came top of the list? With 36 percent of the vote, none other than that beacon of morality and personal integrity, President Vladimir Putin. Russia, amazingly, puts a great deal of its trust in the authority of her political establishment.

I want to argue that neither of these positions, whether British skepticism or Russian nationalism, answers the authority question. But for now, let’s wind back two thousand years and focus on the situation Matthew describes in Jerusalem.

Jesus has just entered the city. The crowds have welcomed him with palm branches and clothes thrown at his feet, proclaiming him the son of David. He’s been into the Temple and caused catastrophe, turning tables and casting out the sellers of sacrificial doves. He has healed the blind and the lame there. The priests are not pleased. They’d managed to get rid of him overnight, but now he’s back causing trouble again. So they ask a question, a question of our times just as much as theirs: “what is your authority for doing these things?” You’re not one of us, you haven’t got the authority of the priestly bloodline. You’re not sent by the Romans, you haven’t got the imperial authority of Caesar. You’re not a demagogue, leading a political body, you haven’t got the authority of the people. So whose authority have you got to do these things?

And these of course are questions that we still ask. A lot of people don’t trust bloodlines and birthrights; people don’t much trust the democratic process or believe that politicians really represent their interests. Sure, a certain level of cynicism is a sign of a healthy society, but it seems nowadays that whenever anyone tries to do anything, the initial response is one of skepticism and distrust. What’s in it for you? Why should we trust you? And then scepticism turns into anger and self-righteousness, like the self-righteousness of the priests in the Temple. We get defensive. Who are you to preach at me?

It’s easy to see why we want to ask these questions. But the obvious problem with our attitude is that society cannot function without some sort of authority. Where old authorities are thrown away, new ones quickly arise to fill the vacuum. At an extreme level, we can see this happening in countries like Iraq where old and oppressive political structures are destroyed, and Islamic radicalism comes in with the resources to take over — the so-called Arab Spring is part of the same story. But it happens here, too. Where people come to believe nothing, they will start to believe anything. There are all sorts of people and organisations offering easy answers to difficult questions. You can find your own preferred authority on the Internet, on soap operas, in celebrities, in Tarot or horoscopes, in the BNP – in short, in anything which offers a message conveniently conforming to one’s particular prejudices. If nobody’s opinion has any authority any more, my opinion is just as valid as anyone else’s, no matter how ill-founded and unexamined it might be.

Jesus in the Temple does not offer an easy answer to the question of authority. In fact, when the priests ask him whose authority he works under, Jesus refuses to answer. Instead, he asks them a question about John the Baptist: by whose authority did John baptise? Not from a birthright, not from the Temple, not from Caesar, that much is clear. The priests have accused Jesus of expelling demons using the power of the Devil before, but they are sensible enough not to say that in front of his followers. Nor, though, can they possibly admit the truth, because that would be too much of a challenge to them. The truth is that John baptised by the authority of the one he baptised, Jesus the Messiah. And so it follows that Jesus is acting on no other authority than his own.

That seems straightforward. But before we start thinking that the authority of Jesus gives us an easy solution to the problem, let’s think about what Jesus’ authority involves. It’s the authority of a God who empties Himself of His divinity to be born a baby in a stable. The authority of a God who rides into the city on a donkey, who teaches but never coerces, who refuses to assert that authority but invites us to join Him in His weakness, His self-giving, His humble service to others. The authority of a God crucified who even then makes no show of power but the power of forgiveness and the saving grace of love. It’s not the sort of authority the world is looking for, not in ancient Jerusalem, not in sceptical Britain or nationalist Russia. It isn’t the authority of a Putin, and it undercuts scepticism with its humility. But it is the authority the world sorely needs.

This is the authority Jesus has given the Church in its action and teaching. It doesn’t come from being the Established Church of this country – we can’t rely on the gift of Caesar, or rest on our laurels like the priests of the Temple. It doesn’t come from the number of bums on pews every Sunday, or the percentage of people who identify themselves as Christian. It’s the same authority by which John the Baptist baptised, that is, the paradoxical authority of Christ Himself, the humble authority of self-sacrificial love, of surrendering our lives so that Christ might live in us – the authority of a crucified God: and it is by letting Him act in us and through us that people will see and know and trust Him.

The opinions represented herein are those of Thomas Plant only.

Exaltation of the Holy Cross

This Sunday, we celebrate the feast of the Holy Cross. To the outsider, it must seem a rather strange affair. What are these Christians doing, exalting an instrument of torture and execution?

First of all, we are celebrating God’s transformative power. Even something as stark and wicked as a crucifix is transfigured by His grace into something noble and good, even the opposite of its intention: this tool designed to give one man a gruesome death is made the tree of eternal life for all people. Even evil is not destroyed, but by grace perfected into goodness.

Second, this feast brings home the concreteness of Christianity. The crucifixion and resurrection of Our Lord is not a myth or abstract spiritual typology, but a real event that happened to a real man at a real moment in time on a real, wooden cross. The Word was made flesh, not abstracted away into theories and books.

Theology and thought are helpful to guide us on the Way, and for some of us, essential (and there’s little to be said for the sort of church that orders you to leave your brain outside before entering the building). But all our theological thinking comes to nothing without the real historical events of God living among us and dying for us on the Cross. Take it away, and our religion is just another ancient Greek mystery cult. 

That is not what the martyrs of the faith died to bequeath us.  This Sunday, in particular, we remember the reality of the suffering they bore and in parts of the world, such as Iraq, bear still today, with their Lord and ours nailed up alongside them.
The opinions represented herein are those of Thomas Plant only.

Where two or three are gathered

“Again I say unto you, that if two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18.19-20)

The second of these verses is very familiar, especially in extreme Protestant circles: we don’t need the Church, a few of us gathered together in Jesus’ name will do just fine.

However, this needs to be qualified by the verse immediately before it. Notice that the answering of our prayers is predicated on us agreeing with one another first. Quite clearly, our prayers when we gather together, for peace in Syria or Iraq or Gaza, for example, are not being answered. Perhaps this verse tells us why that might be. To cite the great third century scholar of Scripture, Origen:

“This is the reason why our prayers are not granted: because we do not agree together in all things upon earth, neither in doctrine, nor in conversation. For as in music, unless the voices are in time there is no pleasure to the hearer, so in the Church, unless they are united God is not pleased therein, nor does He hear their words.”

Until the world is united in one body under the headship of Christ, knowing and practising His love as one great existential prayer, that prayer is not going to be answered. Fissiparity, cults and tabernacles are not the solution. We are called to unity.

St Jerome, writing in the fourth century, says that we should understand this passage spiritually and internally, too, interpreting Jesus’ words here as follows:

“Where our spirit, soul, and body are in agreement, and have not within them conflicting wills, they shall obtain from My Father every thing they shall ask; for none can doubt that that demand is good, where the body wills the same thing as the spirit.”

In other words, our words, actions, intentions, body and soul, need to be united with God’s will: this is the true fruit of prayer. When all of humanity is so thoroughly united with its maker, then our prayers will be answered. But it starts with each of us, and it starts within.

The opinions represented herein are those of Thomas Plant only.

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