First Blessings

Anglican Diocese of the South
Canon John A. Roop

Clergy Retreat 2024

Mark 6:30–31a (ESV): 30 The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. 31 And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

O God of peace, who hast taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved, in quietness and in confidence shall be our strength: By the might of thy Spirit lift us, we pray thee, to thy presence, where we may be still and know that thou art God; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I start, as is fully appropriate, with the great Appalachian theologian and saint, the blessed Dolly Parton of Sevierville.

Tumble outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
And yawn and stretch and try to come to life

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin’
Out on the street, the traffic starts jumpin’
The folks like me on the job from 9 to 5

Workin’ 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin’
Barely gettin’ by, it’s all takin’ and no givin’
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it (9 to 5, Dolly Parton)

If these lyrics were part of Scripture, a canticle, let’s say, they would conclude with the refrain: There was morning and there was evening, just another day. The day starts when the alarm jars us awake, when we stumble out of bed, when we, beyond our power to resist, begin thinking about all those 9 to 5 tasks that await us during the day, that lay claim to us during the day. The day ends when we stumble home, spent from spending our hours and our days and our lives putting money in the boss-man’s wallet. We eat a bite, watch some “reality TV” and then tumble into bed until the next morning’s alarm.

Of course, this doesn’t apply to any of us here. We are holy; we are deacons and priests and — dare I say — bishops all about God’s work. No 9 to 5 for us. Our alarm rings at 4:30 and we stumble out of bed, shower quickly, grab a cup of coffee on our way out of the door to meet a parishioner at the hospital at 5:30, to pray with him, to anoint him before a serious surgery, and to wait several hours with his worried wife until the surgeon brings news: please God, good news. Then we head to church — to the office — because, well, because there is a sermon to be written; there is a bulletin to be prepared, proofed, and printed; there is a lesson to be developed; there is meeting with a parishioner and an evening meeting with the vestry, and, and, and. There are even prayers to be said — if we get around to them. And all of this has to be done early this week because there is a clergy retreat. The day ends when we stumble home, spent from doing good and holy things for the glory of God and for the welfare of his people, an answer to the prayer For Vocations To Ordained Ministry:

Inspire them to spend and be spent for the sake of the Gospel, and make them holy and loving servants and shepherds of the flock for whom you shed your most precious blood (BCP 2019, p. 650; see also 2 Cor 12:15a).

Is it any wonder that the service of Compline must remind us daily of the words of our Lord?

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light (Mt 11:28-30, BCP 2019, p. 61).

Isn’t it interesting — and insidious — how our culture has remade the day and, by doing so, has enslaved us to this 9 to 5 mentality, to this production mentality, even sometimes those of us who are busy with God’s work? Our culture tells us the day starts when we stumble out of bed and pump ourselves up to be human doings, sometimes forgetting that we are instead human beings.

But, from the beginning it was not so. There is no 9 to 5 refrain in the creation account in Genesis, but rather a very different chorus altogether: And there was evening and there was morning, the first day; and there was evening and there was morning, the second day — and so on through the six days of creation, evening and morning making a day. From the moment God called Adam into being, the rhythm of man’s day was evening and morning: not 9 to 5, but 5 to 9, as it were. Man’s day begins with him laying aside his productive activity, his working and keeping of the Garden, his exercise of dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the heavens, the livestock and even the creeping things. Man’s day begins when his work ceases. Man’s day begins when he takes his rest, “carefree in the care of God,” as J. B. Phillips says it so beautifully. That means that the proper daily rhythm for man begins with rest, begins with commending the productivity of creation to the Creator, begins with resting while God works, begins with trusting God to keep the world turning on its axis without man’s assistance. Rest is an act that acknowledges the proper relationship between creature and Creator, an act of humble recognition that all does not depend on us, an act of trust that God actually knows what he’s doing and doesn’t need our advice or our assistance. It is also a refusal to root our identity in what we do, in our expertise, in our productivity. It is a realization — often a painful but ultimately holy one — that our work is not indispensable. Rest is an act of repentance and faith. The 9 to 5 mentality, the start of the day with the morning and with productive activity, is a consequence of the fall. We, who perhaps know the creation story best, are not immune from that fallen daily rhythm, are we?

There is a story about Pope John XXIII that I have always appreciated and tried to imitate, though mostly in vain. As I remember it a friend said something like this to the Pope, “With all the troubles in the Church and all the burdens on you, I suppose you have trouble sleeping at night.” “On no,” the Pope replied. “Each night at bedtime I say the same prayer: Lord it’s late and I’m tired. I’m going to bed. It’s your Church; take care of it.” And that’s the right daily rhythm and conviction. Our day begins in the evening when we rest and commend all creation — and yes, even the Church, even our parishes — to God’s care. When we rise in the morning, we look around to see what God has been up to through the night and we come alongside as his fellow worker to join in — non-anxiously — to do the work he has given us to do this day.

There will be much to do on many days, of course. But the proper rhythm reminds us that all things do not depend on us and that God is at work with us and for us even when we are mindlessly unaware. God’s work is as prevenient as his grace. You see:

Mark 4:26–29 (ESV): “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. 27 He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. 28 The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”

He sleeps and rises, night and day. There was evening and morning, the rhythm of the day, the rhythm of rest and work.

And it is not just the daily rhythm that is a casualty of the fall, but the weekly rhythm, as well. Prince Rogers Nelson, Prince of Purple Rain fame, recognized the problem in his song popularized by the Bangles:

Six o’clock already
I was just in the middle of a dream
I was kissin’ Valentino
By a crystal-blue, Italian stream

But I can’t be late
‘Cause then I guess I just won’t get paid
These are the days
When you wish your bed was already made

It’s just another manic Monday (Woah, woah)
I wish it was Sunday (Woah, woah)
‘Cause that’s my fun day (Woah, woah, woah, woah)
My I don’t have to run day (Woah, woah)
It’s just another manic Monday (Prince Rogers Nelson, Manic Monday)

When does the week start? Well, according to calendarr.com:

Monday is the first day of the week according to international standards for the representation of dates and time, ISO 8601 (www.calendarr.com/united-states/first-day-of-the-week/, accessed 01/28/2024).

Ohhh – ISO 8601: the International Organization for Standardization has spoken. So let it be written; so let it be done — Monday it is. And, the Bangles remind us that it is not just Monday, but another manic Monday. So, the ISO and the Bangles would have us know beyond doubt that our weekly rhythm starts with work and mania. Work as toil — metaphorical sweat-of-the-brow work — is a consequence, some might say a curse, of the fall. And mania? It is a mental and behavioral disorder, a sickness that stems, if not from personal sin, then certainly from ancestral/original sin. And that is the way we are to start our week?

No. We start our week, the ISO and the Bangles notwithstanding, with the Lord’s Day: the first day of the week, the teleological fulfillment of the Sabbath in which rest, worship, thanksgiving, and joy — the opposite of mania — are the order of the Day. And so it has always been in the Church, as the Didache says:

14. On the Lord’s own day, assemble in common to break bread and offer thanks; but first confess your sins, so that your sacrifice may be pure. 2 However, no one quarreling with his brother may join your meeting until they are reconciled; your sacrifice must not be defiled. 3 For here we have the saying of the Lord: In every place and time offer me a pure sacrifice; for I am a mighty King, says the Lord; and my name spreads terror among the nations (Didache, James Kleist (trans.), Newman Press, Logos (2022)).

Not just another manic Monday but a holy Sunday on which confession is made and absolution given; Sunday on which reconciliation is the order of the day.

And so it has always been in the Church as Justin Martyr says:

And on the day called Sunday all who live in cities or in the country gather together in one place, and the memoirs of the Apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits. Then when the reader has finished, the Ruler in a discourse instructs and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all stand up together and offer prayers; and, as we said before, when we have finished the prayer, bread is brought and wine and water, and the Ruler likewise offers up prayers and thanksgivings to the best of his ability, and the people assent, saying the Amen; and the distribution and the partaking of the eucharistized elements is to each, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And those who prosper, and so wish, contribute what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the Ruler, who takes care of the orphans and widows, and those who, on account of sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds, and the strangers who are sojourners among us, and in a word [He] is the guardian of all those in need. But we all hold this common gathering on Sunday, since it is the first day, on which God transforming darkness and matter made the Universe, and Jesus Christ our Savior on the same day rose from the dead. For they crucified Him on the day before Saturday, and on the day after Saturday, He appeared to His Apostles and disciples and taught them these things which we have passed on to you also for your consideration (Justin Martyr, First Apology, 67:411-422).

Not just another manic Monday, but a holy Sunday in which we rest from our labor and feast on eucharistized bread and wine — thanksgivinged bread and wine — which is shared with all and taken to those who are absent; a holy Sunday in which provision is made for those in need: orphans and widows, the sick, the destitute, the prisoners. That is how the week starts: with rest and thanksgiving and blessing for all, a holy Lord’s Day weekly rhythm.

We know all of this; we tell our parishioners all of this. But then, to my shame — I confess before you my brothers and sisters — I too often start my days in the morning with my 9 to 5 work mentality, and I start my weeks on Monday, sometimes all too manaically, hurrying to Church for Morning Prayer, staff meeting, various other meetings, sermon or lesson prep, hospital or home visits — all the good and holy work God has blessed me with. And it is all good.

Is it important that the day starts with evening and the week starts on Sunday? I think so, because the calendar — the rhythm of days and weeks and years that make a life — speaks to our identity: as creatures and not as the Creator, as co-workers with God and not as free agents, as sons and daughters of God and not as slaves of this fallen world, as those who can and must rest “carefree in the care of God.” The calendar is a reminder to guard our hearts so that we can be a non-anxious, non-driven, non-compulsive presence in the world and a sane witness to a God who calls his people into restful communion with him. None of this is really about the calendar. All of this is really about the restful heart.

It is far from certain, but I hope and I pray that this retreat will be a detox of sorts for those who need it — and who doesn’t? — a respite and a reset from the 9 to 5 mentality and the Monday morning mania.

Mark 6:30–31a (ESV): 30 The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. 31 And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.”

Amen.

SESSION 3: CREEDS

APOSTLES ANGLICAN CHURCH
Fr. John A. Roop

Christian Essentials / Anglican Distinctives
Session 3: Creeds

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

O God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth,
Have mercy upon us.

O God the Son, Redeemer of the world,
Have mercy upon us.

O God the Holy Spirit, Sanctifier of the faithful,
Have mercy upon us.

O holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity, one God,
Have mercy upon us.

Now, let’s affirm our faith in the words of the Apostles Creed:

I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the Holy Spirit
and born of the Virgin Mary.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended to the dead.
On the third day he rose again.
He ascended into heaven,
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting. Amen.

Introduction
I spent the first four decades of my life in a non-creedal church, a wonderful place and tradition that was instrumental in my spiritual formation, not least my love of Scripture. But, the Creeds were foreign to our faith and practice. It is not only that we did not say the Creeds; we were opposed to Creeds of any kind. We did not know them or use them or even think about them. Our statement about Creeds was simple: No Creed but Christ. It is not that we disagreed with any of the statements in the Apostles Creed, for example; taken one by one, we would have affirmed each. Our refusal to use the Creeds in corporate worship was not a doctrinal issue. It is more that we felt the Creeds were superfluous and possibly divisive. We have Christ. We have the Bible. Why do we need man-made statements of faith not found in Scripture?

How would you answer those objections to the Creeds? Why are the Creeds important?

In a previous session, we spoke of the confession of the Creeds by the ACNA and of the role they play in our commitment to the faith of the one, holy, catholic, and Apostolic Church. The Fundamental Declarations state this:

We confess as proved by most certain warrants of Holy Scripture the historic faith of the undivided church as declared in the three Catholic Creeds: the Apostles’, the Nicene, and the Athanasian.

By way of review, let me emphasize three points from this declaration.

First, the Creeds accord fully with Scripture; they seek only to express succinctly the fundamental truths of Scripture — and particularly of the Gospel — and to defend those truths against persistent heresies that plagued the early Church, heresies which are still around today.

Second, the faith expressed in the Creeds is the common “possession” of the undivided Church. In that way, the creedal content serves as a continuing force for unity amidst our current sad divisions and as a touchstone of historical orthodoxy. If a church rejects the contents of the Creeds, then it renounces its claim to be part of the historic church. It is in this sense that the Nicene Creed is also called the Symbol (σύμβολον) of the Faith. As “symbol” is used in that context, it means something like a ticket for admission or a claim check or perhaps better still a token of belonging. You’ve seen heart necklaces where the heart is broken in two top to bottom in a zigzag pattern so that the two pieces fit together? Each person receives one half of the heart as a token of being a member of the special relationship the heart implies. Each piece is a symbol, a token/proof of that belonging, of that membership. The Nicene Creed functions that way in the Church. Those who have it (the Creed) — and by “have it” I mean believe it — belong to the one, holy, catholic, and Apostolic Church; the Creed is their symbol/token of belonging.

Third, there are three Creeds which function as symbols and deposits of the historic faith: the Apostles’ Creed (which Anglicans use as the baptismal and catechetical creed and in daily Morning and Evening Prayer), the Nicene Creed (which Anglicans use as the Eucharistic creed), and the Athanasian Creed (which Anglicans rarely use liturgically, but which functions as the best expression of our understanding of the Trinity). While we consider these three creeds as expressing the faith of the undivided Church, only one of them, The Nicene Creed, is used in both the Eastern (Orthodox) and Western (Roman and Anglican) churches. That is why it is called the Symbol of the Faith.

Since the Apostles’ Creed is most frequently used for catechetical instruction in the Western Church, it will be our primary focus, though we will compare it to and contrast it with the Nicene Creed, as well. I will leave the Athanasian Creed for your reading and reflection. Remember that all confirmands are expected to know the Apostles’ Creed: to be able to recite it and to discuss its meaning.

The Apostles’ Creed
The Apostles’ Creed may be found in the BCP on pages 26 and 40 and in the ACNA Catechism on pages 31-32. This Creed is found only in the Western Church: the Roman Catholic Church, the Anglican Church, and various Protestant Churches.

Simply looking at the format/structure of the Creed, what do you notice?

First, there are three Articles, one dedicated to each Person of the Trinity. This creed, in both its format and content, is trinitarian — perhaps not as explicitly so as the Nicene Creed and certainly not in the level of detail as the Athanasian Creed, but fully and overtly trinitarian nonetheless.

Second, each Article begins with an individual statement of faith: Credo in the original Latin of the Creed and I believe in English. Contrast this with the opening of the three stanzas of the Nicene Creed — a corporate statement of faith: Πιστεύομεν in the original Greek and We believe in English. What might explain the difference between the individual and corporate emphases in the Creeds? Think of how the Creeds are used liturgically: baptism (Apostles’ Creed) versus Eucharist (Nicene Creed). In baptism, one expresses an individual/personal commitment to the corporate faith of the Church. In the Eucharist, the whole Church — on earth and in heaven — proclaims the common faith that brings us together around the table. This is, I believe, a valid theological emphasis. But, to be thorough, I should note that some churches — even the Episcopal Church up through the BCP 1928 — opens the Nicene Creed with I believe, a change to the original text. Personally, I am glad that the ACNA returned to the original corporate language, though some individual still prefer the singular, personal language.

I believe in God…
We start the Creed by saying, “I believe.” What do we mean when we say that? Certainly we mean that we acknowledge the truth of the statements that follow; to believe is to assent intellectually. But, that is not nearly enough as St. James makes clear:

James 2:19–26 (ESV): 19 You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder! 20 Do you want to be shown, you foolish person, that faith apart from works is useless? 21 Was not Abraham our father justified by works when he offered up his son Isaac on the altar? 22 You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was completed by his works; 23 and the Scripture was fulfilled that says, “Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness”—and he was called a friend of God. 24 You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone. 25 And in the same way was not also Rahab the prostitute justified by works when she received the messengers and sent them out by another way? 26 For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead.

So, belief has to be more than mere assent to truth, or we are no better than the demons! Belief is a commitment to a life based on and reflecting the truth to which we assent. The Creed, in this sense, functions as a vow; I will live my life in accordance with this faith I express through the Creed. The Creed shouldn’t be said lightly; it is more akin to saying “I do” in marriage than “I love you” while dating.

Let’s approach “I believe” in yet another way, through the notion of fides viva, living faith, as Martin Luther described it. Living faith consists of three essential components: notitia, assensus, and fiducia. Let me give an example of each. Let’s start with a proposition: you say, “God is.” Before I can say that I believe that proposition, I have to make certain I understand it, or understand what you mean by it. So that means you would have to tell me about the nature and character of God in the proposition. There are many concepts of God and I would have to know which one you mean. And then, not to be pedantic, I would also need to know what you mean by “is.” Presumably you mean God exists. But a duck also exists. Are you saying God has the same kind of existence as a duck? Well, you get the picture. Before I can say I believe a proposition, I have to understand it. That’s what we mean by notitia: a conceptual understanding of the notion you propose. Then, once I understand it, I must decide if I agree with it, if I think it is true. I might look at evidence or logic or the expertise and authority of the one making the proposition. But, at some point I must assent to it — agree that it is true — or not. That is assensus. There is one final movement in living faith: fiducia. That may be described as trust or faithfulness toward the proposition, a willingness to pattern my thought and life around it, to take appropriate action based on it. So, living faith involves understanding, assent/acceptance, and trusting action. That is what we mean in the Creed when we say, “I believe:” I understand what is being said, I accept it as true, and I base my life upon it.

What do we claim to believe in first? God — a word always requiring clarification as we have already said. There were many gods when the Creed was written and there are many gods now. To which of these gods do we give our allegiance? To the triune God: the Father, whom no man has seen or can see; the Son who is the perfect image of the Father and who makes the Father known; and the Holy Spirit who is the presence of God within us and within the Church. That understanding of God is what the Creed unpacks for us. It should also be said that this God is also the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob: the God who called Israel into being, made a covenant with them to be their God, and worked through Israel to redeem the world. It is important to state this because some people — some Christians — struggle with it and even deny it by making a distinction between the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament revealed in Jesus. But there is no distinction to be made: the God of Israel is the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the one we affirm in the Creed.

This first Article in the Creed addresses the first Person of the Trinity, God the Father almighty. In what most basic sense is God the Father? He is the creator of heaven and earth. The Nicene Creed expands on that to say that the Father is the “maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, visible and invisible” (BCP 2019, p. 109). Even the Son is eternally begotten of the Father and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father (ibid). The Athanasian Creed goes to great lengths to clarify this:

The Father is made of none,
neither created, nor begotten.

The Son is of the Father alone,
not made, nor created, but begotten.

The Holy Ghost is of the Father and the Son,
neither made, nor created, nor begotten, but proceeding (BCP 2019, p. 770).

So, while the Son and the Holy Spirit are co-equal, co-eternal, consubstantial (of one essence) with the Father, they, in some sense, come from the Father: the Son by being begotten, the Holy Spirit by procession. Here, the Creed simply uses Biblical language without trying to define the difference between begotten and proceeding. In fact, one of the great theologians of the Orthodox Church, St. John of Damascus wrote:

We have learned that there is a difference between begetting and procession, but the nature of the difference we in no wise understand” (Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, 8-9).

What we can say with certainty, is that the Father is Father by virtue of being the creator of all that was created and by begetting the Son.

But, perhaps more personally and pastorally important, Jesus teaches us to call God the Father “our Father who art in heaven.” We have all had earthly fathers: some good though flawed, some bad, some present, some absent. And we all, despite our differing experiences with fatherhood, have some notion of what a good father should be. Whatever good there may be in human fatherhood is an image-bearing reflection of God the Father almighty. The essence of that might be summarized in the most fundamental characteristic of God: love — willing and in God’s case acting for the good of the other. This Article assures us implicitly that God loves us and that he is always acting for our good and for our salvation. Imagine the opening article of the Creed without the appositive “the Father almighty.” What if it simply said, “I believe in God, creator of heaven and earth”? Then we could only relate to God as creature to Creator, which is vastly different than relating as son or daughter to Father.

I believe in Jesus Christ…
This Article is the most detailed of the three, surely because it is fundamental to the Gospel. It declares Jesus to be both divine, the only Son of God the Father and conceived by God the Holy Spirit, and to be human, born of the Virgin Mary and enduring all the sufferings of human life including death. This Article also roots Jesus and the Gospel in a historical context: not “once upon a time” but during the administration of Pontius Pilate. The Gospel is more than, but not less than, history — events that actually occurred, events which people saw and to which they testified.

The ACNA Catechism has a good discussion of this Article, and I’d like to work through that with you (TBAC, pp. 38-46). The ACNA Catechism, To Be A Christian, may be found online at https://anglicanchurch.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/To-Be-a-Christian.pdf.

I believe in the Holy Spirit…
This Article can initially seem like a catch-all statement; everything important that wasn’t mentioned before gets “dumped” in here. But there is theological rhyme and reason to it. Perhaps I can liken it to prayer and the Persons of the Trinity. The fullest theological understanding of prayer is that we pray to the Father, through the Son, in the unity of the Holy Spirit. That is, it is the Person of the Holy Spirit who draws us up into the life of the Trinity, who is our most immediate, Personal point of contact with the divine; the Holy Spirit is God in us, God animating us and giving us life, individually, yes, but corporately, as well, in the Body of Christ. All of that is part and parcel of this third Article of the Creed.

The Apostles’ Creed does not explicitly define the divinity of the Holy Spirit as do the Nicene Creed and the Athanasian Creed; that is, in no small part, why these other creeds are needed. But, the very structure of the Apostles’ Creed implies that the Holy Spirit is one of three divine Persons: one Article for the Father, one for the Son, one for the Holy Spirit.

Let’s turn to the ACNA Catechism, pages 47-55, to review its explanation of this Article.

Summary
The Creeds serve several important purposes.

1. They summarize the most essential, non-negotiable doctrines of the faith. They also provide a convenient outline for evangelization.

2. They clarify some of the doctrines of the faith and refute historical (and ever present) heresies related to those doctrines.

3. They provide a symbol of the common faith that transcends place and time. Essentially, they codify the Vincentian Canon: that which has been believed everywhere, always, and by all.

AUTHORITY, AUTONOMY, ANARCHY

This follows on from an earlier Facebook post, which will provide helpful context for what follows:

Please look carefully at the meme in the header. The quote purports to be — but is not — from C. S. Lewis. As an aside, be wary of any meme quoting a noted Christian author, perhaps especially Lewis — that does not include a detailed source reference. Treat it as you would an unsolicited email with spelling and grammar errors and a link that you must click immediately.

Now, back to the quote. I ask this of Christians: how does it strike you? It is, at best, sub-Christian anthropology and, at worst, gnostic. One would need more context to be certain. But, presented on its own, it is insufficiently orthodox to be embraced wholesale or even “liked” by Christians on Facebook. And yet many who self-identify as Christians did exactly that — liked it — probably in no small part because of the (false) attribution naming C. S. Lewis.

Rather foolishly, I weighed in on the quote, identifying a few of its deficiencies. This led to some interesting — and for the most part, congenial — discussions. Though I won’t try to reconstruct the meandering trail that led to this topic, one discussion made its way to the pre-existence of souls, the notion that all souls are pre-existent in the spiritual realm and are assigned to a body at conception or at some point before birth. I noted in a comment that this false doctrine was explicitly declared heretical at the Second Council of Constantinople (AD 553) and that the earlier condemnation of one of its teachers, Origen, was confirmed there. And what was the response of my interlocutor when informed that the doctrine of the pre-existence of souls had been formally declared a heresy by the fifth ecumenical council of the Church?

“I do believe in the pre-existence of spirit/soul and seeing (sic) no harm in doing so.”

I’ve heard that called “doubling down.” Perhaps she didn’t believe me? It is easy enough to check out my assertion. So, I can only assume that (1) she did believe me and didn’t care what the Church had determined or (2) she was uncertain of my assertion and didn’t care to determine the truth of it. The latter is willful ignorance. The former is, not precisely heresy, but the willing embrace of a heterodox and heretical doctrine.

There is a third option. She believes that she has the authority and the autonomy to decide such matters for herself regardless of what the Church has decreed. In short, she does not accept the authority of the Church speaking with one voice over nearly two millennia. I once read that the humility of orthodoxy is to remain with the Church unless absolutely convinced that the entire church — all its saints and theologians and faithful — have been wrong for two thousand years: a very high bar of certainty. In contrast, the arrogance of heterodoxy is to replace the consensus fidelium of the Church with one’s private opinion. To reject the authority of the Church and to insist upon one’s own autonomy to define the faith is to embrace theological anarchy.

So, as Anglicans, and specifically as Anglicans in the ACNA, what do we consider the rightful and trustworthy sources of authority in the Church? First this: all authority in heaven and on earth belongs to Jesus Christ (rf Mt 28:18). He then exercises that authority through dual agents: Scripture, Bishops, Creeds, and Counsels, all superintended in a manner appropriate to their nature, by the Holy Spirit. (For more on this, see https://firstblessings.blog/2024/01/13/christian-essentials-anglican-distinctives-3/.). These are the authoritative instruments and reliable ways in which truth is prayerfully and prudentially discerned in and by the Church. As orthodox Christians, we do not have the option of saying, “Well, I know what the Church says, but…,” or “I read Scripture in the way,” or “I do believe in the pre-existence of souls and seeing (sic) no harm in doing so.” Regardless of whether you see any harm in doing so, the Church — the whole Church speaking as one — did/does indeed see the harm in doing so, and to keep you safe has declared such doctrine heretical. Your choice is dichotomous: orthodoxy or heterodoxy, autonomy or submission, heresy or faithfulness?

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Feast of St. Antony of Egypt (17 January 2024)
(1 Peter 5:6-11, Psalm 91, Mark 10:17-21)

Collect
O God, by your Holy Spirit you enabled your servant Antony to withstand the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil: Give us grace, with pure hearts and minds, to follow you, the only God; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Take a moment to read the following Gospel text slowly, reflectively, prayerfully — to immerse yourself in it — not simply because it is an important word from the Lord, but also because it is the beginning of the story I have to tell today, or rather of the story that St. Athanasius has to tell.

Mark 10:17–27 (ESV): 17 And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 18 And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. 19 You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’ ” 20 And he said to him, “Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth.” 21 And Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” 22 Disheartened by the saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.

23 And Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How difficult it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” 24 And the disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! 25 It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” 26 And they were exceedingly astonished, and said to him, “Then who can be saved?” 27 Jesus looked at them and said, “With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God.”

What is our response to this account? Maybe a sense of sadness for the rich man — so close to the Kingdom of God but not quite able to grasp it? Maybe a bit of astonishment like the disciples: why should wealth be such an obstacle to eternal life? Maybe a twinge of discomfort realizing how wealthy even the least of us are in comparison with the poverty in our city, state, and nation and the true destitution throughout the third world?

And this raises even more questions: Who are you — who am I — in this story? and What will you — what will I — do, if anything, because I have heard it, not once but twice, today?

Now, I want to lay alongside this Gospel story another one that starts about two centuries later, circa 250. It is the story of Antony as recorded in The Life of Antony, by Saint Athanasius.

1. Antony was an Egyptian by race. His parents were well born and prosperous, and since they were Christians, he also was reared in a Christian manner. When he was a child he lived with his parents, cognizant of little else besides them and his home. As he grew and became a boy, and was advancing in years, he could not bear to learn letters, wishing also to stand apart from friendship with other children. All his yearning, as it has been written of Jacob, was for living, an unaffected person, in his home. Of course he accompanied his parents to the Lord’s house, and as a child he was not frivolous, nor as a youth did he grow contemptuous; rather, he was obedient to his mother and father, and paying attention to the readings, he carefully took to heart what was profitable in them. And although he lived as a child in relative affluence, he did not pester his parents for food of various and luxurious kinds, nor did he seek the pleasures associated with food, but with merely the things he found before him he was satisfied, and he looked for nothing more.

2. He was left alone, after his parents’ death, with one quite young sister. He was about eighteen or even twenty years old, and he was responsible both for the home and his sister. Six months had not passed since the death of his parents when, going to the Lord’s house as usual and gathering his thoughts, he considered while he walked how the apostles, forsaking everything, followed the Savior, and how in Acts some sold what they possessed and took the proceeds and placed them at the feet of the apostles for distribution among those in need, and what great hope is stored up for such people in heaven. He went into the church pondering these things, and just then it happened that the Gospel was being read, and he heard the Lord saying to the rich man, If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. It was is if by God’s design he held the saints in his recollection, and as if the passage were read on his account. Immediately Antony went out from the Lord’s house and gave to the towns people the possessions he had from his forebears (three hundred fertile and very beautiful arourae [approximately an acre of land]), so that they would not disturb him or his sister in the least. And selling all the rest that was portable, when he collected sufficient money, he donated it to the poor, keeping a few things for his sister (Athanasius (Robert Gregg, trans.), The Life Of Antony And The Letter To Marcellinus, Paulist Press (1980), pp.30-31).

Antony heard the same text that we heard this afternoon, but it moved him in a way that it has not yet moved us. Why? He heard the words of Jesus as spoken not just to the rich man, but to himself. The Spirit had already predisposed him to hear the text in this way; as he walked to the Lord’s house he was already pondering his life circumstances — his inheritance, his relationship to the property and his responsibility to his sister — in light of the lives of the saints, the practice of the apostolic church, and the words of Scripture. Then, when he heard in the Gospel the answer to the questions he had been pondering, he was ready to receive it as a word spoken directly to him. Now, there are two important notions that come to us from this: (1) we should always consider the details of our life and circumstances in light of the saints, the Great Tradition of the Church, and the words of Scripture, and (2) we must always be ready to hear the Scripture as God’s word spoken to us and respond accordingly. Now, I need to nuance that last statement a bit. We must approach the whole of Scripture as God’s word spoken for us and for our salvation, and we must always ask for the wisdom of the Spirit and the guidance of the Church in determining what that word to us means. A specific word of Scripture is always for us; that is, there is always meaning in it for us. But, it is not always to us; that is, it is not always determinative for our behavior in the same was as it was for that of the original hearer. I may not be called to sell all that I have and give the proceeds to the poor, or I may be. Only prayer, spiritual discernment, and the teaching of the Church can tell me whether that word is to me. But, I must always examine my relationship with wealth in light of the Gospel imperatives to follow Jesus and to care for the poor; that word is surely for me and for all of us. Let’s continue Antony’s story.

3. But when, entering the Lord’s house once more, he heard in the Gospel the Lord saying, Do not be anxious about tomorrow, he could not remain any longer, but going out he gave those remaining possessions also to the needy. Placing his sister in the charge of respected and trusted virgins, and giving her over to the convent for rearing, he devoted himself from then on to the discipline rather than the household, giving heed to himself and patiently training himself (ibid, pp. 31-32).

This probably seems strange to us, to abandon his responsibilities to his sister. But, it was not an abrogation of his duties, rather a faithful discharge of them. What could be more responsible than to entrust the welfare of his sister to the Church, to ensure that she was raised and formed by faithful women? Again, note the role hearing the Gospel played. This is a common theme throughout Antony’s life; the Gospel is not simply to be heard, but to be followed in the specifics of one’s life.

Antony moved into the Egyptian wilderness where there were already a few holy men living as hermits, seeking a life of complete devotion to God. For some time, Antony sought them out, sought to receive from each some word of instruction.

3. (Continued) At first he also began by remaining in places proximate to his village. And going forth from there, if he heard of some zealous person anywhere, he searched him out like the wise bee. He did not go back to his own place unless he had seen him, and as though receiving from him certain supplies for traveling the road to virtue, he returned. Spending the beginning stages of his discipline in that place, then, he weighed in his thoughts how he would not look back on things of his parents, nor call his relatives to memory. All the desire and all the energy he possessed concerned the exertion of the discipline. He worked with his hands, though, having heard that he who is idle, let him not eat. And he spent what he made partly for bread, and partly on those in need. He prayed constantly, since he learned that it is necessary to pray unceasingly in private. For he paid such close attention to what was read that nothing from the Scripture did he fail to take in — rather he grasped everything, and in him the memory took the place of books (ibid, p.32).

Here are two more vital lessons from Antony’s life: (1) he was humble enough to learn some aspect of faith and practice from any follower of Christ, and (2) he was single minded, relentless, and disciplined in his pursuit of virtue. Whatever command he received from Scripture, he obeyed. Whatever instruction in holiness he received from another he followed as provisions on the path to virtue. He was the exact opposite of the double-minded man that James mentions:

James 1:5–8 (ESV): 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. 6 But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. 7 For that person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; 8 he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.

What is your life — what is my life — about? Toward what destination are you — am I — heading? Antony could easily answer these questions. Leon Bloy wrote this in his book The Woman Who Was Poor:

The only real sadness, the only real failure, the only great tragedy in life, is not to become a saint.

That is what Antony’s life was about.

Much of The Life of Antony is devoted to his lifelong battle against the demons; the witness of his power over the devil and his hoard of demons is a treasure of the Church and a great source of instruction and edification. I do not have time to explore that, but I encourage you to read the work for yourself. It is not long, and it is an inspiring text. But I do want you to hear this instruction that Antony gave to his fellow monks/ascetics in the latter years of his life.

30. We need, therefore, to fear God alone, holding them [the demons] in contempt and fearing them not at all. Indeed, the more they do these things, let us all the more exert ourselves in the discipline that opposes them, for a great weapon against them is a just life and trust in God. They are afraid of the ascetics on several counts — for their fasting, the vigils, the prayers, the meekness and gentleness, the contempt for money, the lack of vanity, the humility, the love of the poor, the almsgiving, the freedom from wrath, and most of all for their devotion to Christ. It is for this reason that they do all they do — in order not to have those monks trampling them underfoot. For they know the grace that has been given to the faithful for combat against them by the Savior, in his saying, Behold, I have given you authority to tread upon serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy (ibid, p.54).

Do you — do I — want to thwart the power of the enemy through the grace of Christ? Then the way is clear, St. Antony says: prayer, fasting, vigils, meekness, gentleness, contempt for money, humility, love of the poor, almsgiving, total devotion to Christ. Do these things and the enemy will have no power over you, neither to terrify nor to harm.

Well, there is much more to be said about the life of Antony: about his twenty years spent in isolation from men and in the presence of God; about his seminal role in the growth and development of monasticism; about his support of the confessors and martyrs and his own desire for martyrdom; about his staunch opposition to heretics who threatened the purity of the faith. Antony is one of the towering figures in the Church though he was amongst the humblest of men.

I will close with a portion of Antony’s final words.

91. “I am going the way of the fathers, as it is written, for I see myself being summoned by the Lord. Be watchful and do not destroy your lengthy discipline, but as if you were making a beginning now, strive to preserve your enthusiasm. You know the treacherous demons — you know how savage they are, even though weakened in strength. Therefore, do not fear them, but rather draw inspiration from Christ always, and trust in him. And live as though dying daily, paying heed to yourselves and remembering what you heard from my preaching (ibid, pp. 96-97).

Two last good words of instruction for us: (1) strive to preserve your enthusiasm as if you were making a beginning now, and (2) live as though dying daily.

May Christ be gloried in our lives as he surely was in the life of Antony. Amen.

(The text of The Life of Antony may be found at https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/2811.htm).

I wasn’t eavesdropping, not really. The two women at the next table in Barnes and Noble were talking loudly, so loudly, in fact, that I was distracted from my book, Epiphany, by Fleming Rutledge. They were probably in their early seventies, just two friends catching up. As I tried to focus on my book again, one began talking about church, and I caught such words as “parish” and “priest.” Did I mention that I wasn’t eavesdropping, not really? Then she said — and this isn’t an exact quote — “I have really long, good conversations with one priest in my parish. He and I have very different views of God. He’s really quite funny.” Shortly after that the two women left, I think to shop at Trader Joe’s.

I can’t get that brief exchange about the priest out of my mind because it so succinctly expresses much that is currently wrong with the Church. Now, before you read further — if you choose to read further — please note that I am going to say some things that might seem provocative or arrogant. They are intended to be the former. I pray they are not the latter.

“He and I have very different views of God,” she said, and it was clear that she enjoyed debating her notions with the priest. The way she expressed it made clear that she considered the priest as enjoyably quaint, but as little more. And therein lies a significant problem. The church is not a debating society, nor is the priest a purveyor of his own quaint notions. The priest is not there to peddle his own ideas — God forbid! — but rather to inculcate the authoritative teaching of the Church, received from Christ, given to the Apostles and traditioned — passed down — by faithful bishops in Apostolic Succession in a process superintended by the Holy Spirit working in and through the Church. I am sorry, ma’am, but your notions of God do not really matter if they do not agree with the consensus fidelium, with that which has been believed always, everywhere, and by all. They are not to be debated but humbly corrected to accord with the faith and practice of the one holy catholic and Apostolic Church.

The other possibility is that the priest is, indeed, teaching his own quaint notions about God. Then he is not a faithful priest but a blind guide leading the blind. The woman has no need to debate him, but rather, to rebuke him with the truth as taught by the Church, not with her own private notions of God. If he fails to receive that correction, those superior to him must be notified.

I suspect that conversation bothered me so much because I am currently engaged in catechism in preparation for Confirmation. Tomorrow, God willing, I will teach a class on the sources of authority in Anglicanism: Scripture, Creeds, Councils, and Bishops. None of these express quaint, idiosyncratic notions about God, but rather the very truth revealed by God himself and preserved, protected, and passed on in and by the Church.

The Church is not a bastion of theological democracy in which all notions are equal — certainly not in fundamental areas such as the nature of God. There may be times when as a priest I can say, “The Church has not spoken authoritatively on this matter, so I can only give my best assessment of the various views and perhaps tell why I favor one over the other.” Fine. Fair. But, when the Church has spoken with one voice for two millennia, I must give my amen to that authoritative pronouncement. The Church is a pillar and foundation of the truth, not a debating society.

Session 2: Authority — Scripture, Creeds, Councils, Bishops

APOSTLES ANGLICAN CHURCH
Fr. John A. Roop

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

For A Province Or Diocese
O God, by your grace you have called us in this Province and Diocese to be a good and godly fellowship of faith. Bless our Archbishop and Bishop Foley, our Assisting Bishop Frank, and other clergy, and all our people. Grant that your Word may be truly preached and truly heard, your Sacraments faithfully administered and faithfully received. By your Spirit, fashion our lives according to the example of your Son, and grant that we may show the power of your love to all among whom we live; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Introduction: The Question of Authority

One of the most notable characteristics of this post-modern culture in which we live is the distrust and rejection of, and even the rebellion against authority. We saw the beginning of this in the 1960s and 70s with various protest movements regarding race and war, and we still see it playing out today: in the 6 January 2021 assault on the Capitol, in calls to defund the police, in the suspicion directed toward the Supreme Court, in the dysfunction of the political system at all levels, in distrust of news outlets — essentially everywhere we turn. The older structures that used to speak truth to us, that used to rightly order our lives we now suspect of manipulative propaganda and rampant self-interest at our expense; we don’t know where to look for social, political, academic truth. In my youth we placed our trust in the scientific community, in the news media — particularly in Walter Cronkite and Huntley & Brinkley — in our police officers and legal system, in our teachers and pastors. But no more, it seem, or at least not so much. Educational systems seem to deconstruct truth more than search for it and teach it. Political systems seem more engaged in internal struggles for power than in right governing and public service. Our judiciary and legal systems seem to fail as often as not to administer justice impartially. Our churches seem rife with scandal, false doctrine, and cultural pandering. It may always have been so in every generation, more or less. This is neither the best of times nor the worst of times; it is simply our time, and we see its flaws because they affect us.

Still, the question confronts us as it does those in every generation: what are the reliable sources of truth and authority? How do we know what to believe and how to rightly order our lives? To whose authority we may/must rightly submit? These question arise not only in regard to civil society; they also pertain to matters of the spirit, to matters of faith.

As Anglicans, we have answers for these questions. The Fundamental Declarations of the Province answer them, in part for our Province (ACNA).

ACNA Fundamental Declarations of the Province

We believe and confess Jesus Christ to be the Way, the Truth, and the Life: no one comes to the Father but by Him. Therefore, the Anglican Church in North America identifies the following seven elements as characteristic of the Anglican Way, and essential for membership:

1. We confess the canonical books of the Old and New Testaments to be the inspired Word of God, containing all things necessary for salvation, and to be the final authority and unchangeable standard for Christian faith and life.

2. We confess Baptism and the Supper of the Lord to be Sacraments ordained by Christ Himself in the Gospel, and thus to be ministered with unfailing use of His words of institution and of the elements ordained by Him.

3. We confess the godly historic Episcopate as an inherent part of the apostolic faith and practice, and therefore as integral to the fullness and unity of the Body of Christ.

4. We confess as proved by most certain warrants of Holy Scripture the historic faith of the undivided church as declared in the three Catholic Creeds: the Apostles’, the Nicene, and the Athanasian.

5. Concerning the seven Councils of the undivided Church, we affirm the teaching of the first four Councils and the Christological clarifications of the fifth, sixth and seventh Councils, in so far as they are agreeable to the Holy Scriptures.

6. We receive The Book of Common Prayer as set forth by the Church of England in 1662, together with the Ordinal attached to the same, as a standard for Anglican doctrine and discipline, and, with the Books which preceded it, as the standard for the Anglican tradition of worship.

7. We receive the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion of 1562, taken in their literal and grammatical sense, as expressing the Anglican response to certain doctrinal issues controverted at that time, and as expressing the fundamental principles of authentic Anglican belief.

In all these things, the Anglican Church in North America is determined by the help of God to hold and maintain as the Anglican Way has received them the doctrine, discipline and worship of Christ.

So, back to our questions. Based on the Fundamental Declarations, what are the reliable sources of truth and authority in the Christian life? How do we know what to believe and how to rightly order our lives? To whose authority we may/must rightly submit? [Let the class examine the Fundamental Declarations and discuss the answers they provide.]

Holy Scripture

Holy Scripture is the final authority and unchangeable standard for Christian faith and life. Even as we say that, it must be nuanced in light of Jesus’ own claim:

Matthew 28:18 (ESV): 18 And Jesus came and said to [the disciples], “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.

So, when we say that Holy Scripture is the final authority we don’t mean that Scripture has an authority independent of or superseding Christ’s authority. Instead we mean that Jesus’ ultimate authority over all things is mediated to the Church in and through the Scriptures. Scripture is one way in which Christ exercises his authority in the world. We will see that there are other ways in which and other means by which Christ exercises his authority. But, for Anglicans, Scripture holds pride of place; we cannot, in our faith and practice, controvert the Scriptures.

The ACNA Catechism, To Be A Christian (TBAC), expands on this notion in a series of questions and answers. You may access the Catechism here: https://anglicanchurch.net/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/To-Be-a-Christian.pdf.

[Review To Be A Christian, Questions 25-35, pages 32-35.]

The Reformed Churches are known for their insistence upon five sola statements: sola scriptura, sola gratia, sola fides, solus Christus, soli Deo gloria. It is the first of these — sola scriptura, Scripture alone, that concerns us here. In its popular connotation, this statement is often misconstrued as a “me and my Bible” attitude. I don’t need anyone else to tell me what to believe; I can sit down by myself — just me and my Bible — and understand everything perfectly well myself. I don’t think that is what sola scriptura actually meant historically because that is not how the Reformers actually dealt with Scripture. And that is certainly not the Anglican approach to Scripture; it is, instead, a recipe for disaster — every man a pope, every man his own infallible spiritual authority. The Bible was not given first to individuals, but to the Church, to the Body of Christ, and it is in and through the Church that the Holy Spirit works to lead all God’s people into right understanding of Scripture. The Church — not the academy and not even the private study — is the “natural habitat” of Scripture. St. Paul codifies this understanding in his first letter to Timothy:

1 Timothy 3:14–15 (ESV): 14 I hope to come to you soon, but I am writing these things to you so that, 15 if I delay, you may know how one ought to behave in the household of God, which is the church of the living God, a pillar and buttress of the truth.

St. Paul is not pitting the Church against Scripture or Scripture against the Church: far from it! Rather, the Church is the living expression of the deposit of faith found in Scripture, the most reliable interpreter of that faith, the body in which Scriptural faith comes to life.

In centering Scripture in the Church, I am not saying that individuals should not read and study the Bible individually, personally! God forbid: let us be people of the Word. Personal engagement with Scripture is essential for spiritual growth. But, I am saying that our individual understanding of Scripture must be submitted to the Church, to the Great Tradition of the one, holy, catholic, and Apostolic Church, that we must exercise some humility and that we must not insist on our own, idiosyncratic interpretations of Scripture over the consensus fidelium, the consensus of the faithful for over two millennia. To say, “I know what the Church teaches, but I read the Scripture differently,” to persist in that attitude when corrected, and to encourage others to follow your personal understanding is the definition of heretic.

The authority in all things belongs to Christ. He mediates that authority in and through Scripture which contains all things necessary for salvation and which is the unchangeable standard for Christian faith and life. Scripture is to be read and understood consensually, that is, by the whole Church.

This consensual understanding of Scripture — Scripture read in and by the Church — means that the Church is also an instrument through which Christ mediates his authority. That is also emphasized in the Fundamental Declarations which confess the Creeds, affirm the Councils, and confess the godly, historic Episcopacy. Creeds, Councils, and Bishops speak for the Church and so exercise a delegated authority within the Church.

Creeds

What are the Creeds and what role do they play in the life and faith of the Church? The ACNA Catechism (TBAC) provides a good, brief answer. See Part II, The Apostles Creed And The Life Of Faith, pages 29-32.

Think of the Creeds as the “Cliff Notes” summary of the Gospel. They do not contain everything that is essential for the life of faith and Christian practice, but everything they do contain is essential for the life of faith and Christian practice. Only those who can affirm them in their entirety have embraced the non-negotiable essentials of the faith delivered once for all to the saints and are ready for baptism and full participation in the life of the Church.

The Creeds serve another function, as well; they provide a lens through which the Church reads and understands Scripture. For example, the Athanasian Creed details the way the Church understands and expresses the reality of the Trinity and the dual nature of Christ (fully God and fully man). The Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, discerned that this is the proper and authoritative way to read and understand the Scriptures as they reveal to us the Triune God and the incarnate Logos. In this sense, rejection of the Creeds is a rejection of Scripture as understood consensually by the Church. This notion brings us naturally to the topic of consensual understanding and the Councils of the Church.

Ecumenical Church Councils

From time to time there are issues that arise in the life of the Church that are not explicitly addressed in Scripture, or that are perhaps addressed only obliquely. One group within the Church may read Scripture in a way that conflicts with others in the Church; each group is trying to be faithful to Scripture, but it is not perfectly clear what faithfulness looks like. We have examples of this in Scripture itself, the classic one being the inclusion of the Gentiles, as Gentiles, in the Church. Paul and Barnabas read Scripture and discerned the direction of the Holy Spirit toward inclusion of the Gentiles without their prior conversion to Judaism and without imposing upon them the keeping of the Mosaic Law. Other leaders in the Church read Scripture differently. To them, Jesus was the Messiah of Israel; to follow Jesus required identification first with Israel, i.e., converting to Judaism and faithfully observing the Law. How was the Church to determine which group, which reading of Scripture, was correct?

We find the answer in Acts 15. The apostles and the elders of the Church came together in council in Jerusalem, under the auspices of James, the bishop of the Jerusalem church, to listen to one another, to read Scripture together, to pray together, to listen to the Holy Spirit together, and to decide together the proper way forward for the Church. This was the first of the Church’s councils, and it served as the model for Church-wide discernment for a thousand years. When important decisions had to be made regarding the faith and practice of the Church, leaders of the Church from throughout the world assembled to listen to one another, to search the Scriptures, to pray, to discern the movement of the Holy Spirit, and to decide the issue on behalf of the whole Church. When the council spoke, it spoke with authority for the Church.

There were seven such councils of the whole Church. Anglicans recognize them as a valid source of authority with a certain caveat, according to the Fundamental Declarations:

Concerning the seven Councils of the undivided Church, we affirm the teaching of the first four Councils and the Christological clarifications of the fifth, sixth and seventh Councils, in so far as they are agreeable to the Holy Scriptures.

There are several important features of this affirmation. First, we embrace only the Councils of the undivided Church, when East and West were one, before the Great Schism of 1054. That is the period when the Councils spoke for the universal Church. Second, we affirm fully only the first four of these Councils. These are the ones which defined and clarified the essential dogmas of the Church:

Nicea (325)

Christ is one being with the Father and co-eternal.

Constantinople (381)

The Holy Spirit is the third person of the Trinity, of one being and co-eternal with the Father and the Son. It was this council that gave the final form to the Nicene Creed, which accordingly is more precisely called the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed.

Ephesus (431)

Mary is rightly called the Theotokos (God bearer) since Jesus is God incarnate from conception. (This has less to do with Mary and more to do with Jesus. It insists that Jesus was fully God from conception as opposed to such heresies as adoptionism which insists that Mary bore only a human person who was later filled with the Spirit of Sonship — adopted — by God. To insist that Jesus was fully God and fully man from conception implies that Mary bore God in her womb, thus rightly bestowing on her the title Theotokos, God bearer.)

Chalcedon (451)

Christ is one person with two natures — fully human and fully divine — and those two natures are neither separated nor confused.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh Councils are different in nature than these first four. They provide detail and clarification of the four, and defend them against some heretical interpretations. We affirm those Christological clarifications. But they also range into political matters and matters of church practice that we have determined is more appropriately left to local discretion. We affirm the first four Councils fully, and the fifth, sixth, and seventh insofar as they shed additional light upon the essential dogmatic statements made previously, and insofar as they are agreeable to the Holy Scriptures.

Bishops

Tragically, the Church split along an East-West line in 1054, creating the Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church, and fractured again during and after the Reformation. That makes the convening of a true, catholic (of the whole) Ecumenical Council impossible. So, how do churches make important doctrinal and liturgical decisions today? How do we, as Anglicans, do it? What is the ongoing source of authority in the life of the church, acting under Scripture, Creeds, and Councils? The answer is found in the third of the Fundamental Declarations:

We confess the godly historic Episcopate [Bishops] as an inherent part of the apostolic faith and practice, and therefore as integral to the fullness and unity of the Body of Christ.

Jesus gave the Apostles certain authority in the Church, empowering them, for example, to forgive sins or to withhold forgiveness of sins and to bind on earth or to loose on earth (ref Mt 16:19 and John 20:22). Since the mission of the Church extended beyond the life of the Twelve, the role they played in the life of the Church needed to extend, as well. Thus, the Apostles appointed/ordained bishops through prayer and the laying on of hands to succeed them in their apostolic ministry. The central and authoritative role of the bishops in the Church was already evident by the late first or early second century, as this excerpt from a letter by St. Ignatius of Antioch shows:

8. All of you should follow the bishop as Jesus Christ follows the Father; and follow the presbytery (priests) as you would the apostles. Respect the deacons as the commandment of God. Let no one do anything involving the church without the bishop. Let that eucharist be considered valid that occurs under the bishop or the one to whom he entrusts it. Let the congregation be wherever the bishop is; just as wherever Jesus Christ is, there also is the universal church. It is not permitted either to baptize or to hold a love feast without the bishop. But whatever he approves is acceptable to God, so that everything you do should be secure and valid (St. Ignatius of Antioch, Letter To the Smyrneans, The Apostolic Fathers Volume 1, Bart Ehrman (trans.), Harvard University Press (2003), pp. 303-305).

The bishops in today’s church exercise Apostolic authority. This doctrine and practice is often referred to as Apostolic Succession. Each bishop in the ACNA is able to trace his spiritual lineage directly, and in an unbroken line, to one or more of the Apostles. That means, of course, that each priest and deacon can, as well, since priests and deacons are ordained by Bishops. [As an aside, Archbishop Foley’s apostolic lineage, and thus mine since he ordained me to the priesthood, has been traced back to Peter, James, John, and Paul.]

But, Apostolic Succession means more than laying on of hands in ordination. It means fidelity to the Apostolic witness, passing on faithfully and fully that deposit of Apostolic faith received in and through Scriptures, Creeds, Councils, and the Church.

In the ACNA, the College of Bishops, i.e., the Bishops from every diocese meeting together, make decisions pertaining to the entire Province — to all the dioceses and parishes comprising the Province.

For decisions that affect only a particular diocese, the Ordinary — the bishop of that diocese — convenes a synod, a gathering of all clergy and elected/appointed lay delegates from each parish to reach a decision through prayer, study of Scripture, listening, and voting. Our diocese, the Anglican Diocese of the South, has an annual synod in November.

Conclusion: The Question of Authority

So, what are the reliable sources of truth and authority in the Anglican Church? First, we note that all authority lies in and with Jesus Christ; it was given to him by God the Father. But, Jesus, through the work and indwelling presence of his Holy Spirit, ministers that authority in several ways: Scripture, Creeds, Councils, and Bishops.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop
(Genesis 3, Psalm 9, John 2)

…he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel (Gen 3:15c).

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Even if you were reading the Bible for the very first time with no background knowledge, even if you were reading it not as a religious text but as cultural history/myth, even if you were simply reading it as a fictional saga, you would certainly know trouble was coming by the time you reached the middle of the second chapter of Genesis:

Genesis 2:15–17 (ESV): 15 The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. 16 And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, 17 but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”

Why even mention the tree, why even warn about death — which was as yet unknown — if it weren’t intended to presage something dire? Cue the ominous music.

The very presence of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the midst of the garden raises questions, doesn’t it? Why didn’t God “human-proof” Eden the way new parents baby-proof their home by removing all potential hazards and by installing safety gadgets: cabinet locks, oven knob protectors, electric outlet covers. What good parent would put a box of rat poison on the coffee table and warn the toddler not to eat it?

There are a couple of responses to this comparison. First, Adam is young — immature according to the Church Fathers — but he is not a toddler without understanding. He has both the knowledge and will to choose obedience to God’s single restriction. We are — each of us to this day — asked to demonstrate and exercise our faith and our faithfulness through our obedience. This is all that was asked of Adam, and that in a single act, a single law. Second, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was not poison. According to the Fathers, humans were always intended to have access to that tree and the knowledge it represents, but only in due time when man had matured enough to use the knowledge wisely. Then, and only then, could man have eaten of it safely. And isn’t this paradigmatic of humankind? We seek after knowledge prematurely, before we have the wisdom to use it to our benefit, and death often results. One of last year’s — doesn’t it feel odd to say that? — one of last year’s blockbuster movies gives a modern version of the story: Oppenheimer. Scientists broke the code of atomic fission, and what is the first thing their political and military overlords used the knowledge for? To construct an unprecedented weapon of mass destruction that was unleashed on a civilian target and which killed the majority of Christians in Japan: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die. It is the human story.

We should also note before moving on that only Adam received the instruction/warning directly from God. As far as we can tell, the woman got it secondhand — hearsay — from Adam. There was even some loss — or, in this case, gain — in the transmission.

And now, with that, we are ready for today’s text, Genesis 3. It begins with a creature we have not met before.

Genesis 3:1 (ESV): 3 Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the Lord God had made.

He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?”

A sly, talking snake: what are we to make of that? Well, if this our first time through the story, we will likely be at a loss. We need more of the story, details that only come later, and we need to be able to hear those details with ears attuned to Ancient Near Eastern cultures. We need the prophets, particularly Isaiah and Ezekiel, and we need to hear these prophets on their own terms.

Isaiah tells of a rebellion in heaven, of a pretender to God’s throne:

Isaiah 14:12–15 (ESV): 12 “How you are fallen from heaven,
O Day Star, son of Dawn!
How you are cut down to the ground,
you who laid the nations low!
13 You said in your heart,
‘I will ascend to heaven;
above the stars of God
I will set my throne on high;
I will sit on the mount of assembly
in the far reaches of the north;
14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds;
I will make myself like the Most High.’
15 But you are brought down to Sheol,
to the far reaches of the pit.

And Ezekiel connections this rebellion to Eden:

Ezekiel 28:12b–17a (ESV): “You were the signet of perfection,
full of wisdom and perfect in beauty.
13 You were in Eden, the garden of God;
every precious stone was your covering,
sardius, topaz, and diamond,
beryl, onyx, and jasper,
sapphire, emerald, and carbuncle;
and crafted in gold were your settings
and your engravings.
On the day that you were created
they were prepared.
14 You were an anointed guardian cherub.
I placed you; you were on the holy mountain of God;
in the midst of the stones of fire you walked.
15 You were blameless in your ways
from the day you were created,
till unrighteousness was found in you.
16 In the abundance of your trade
you were filled with violence in your midst, and you sinned;
so I cast you as a profane thing from the mountain of God,
and I destroyed you, O guardian cherub,
from the midst of the stones of fire.
17 Your heart was proud because of your beauty;
you corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor.
I cast you to the ground.

Why is there a sly, talking snake in Eden? Well — don’t be scandalized by this — there isn’t, at least not as we typically think of snakes. This is an angel, a throne guardian angel, a cherub who had rebelled against God, who had sought to usurp God’s authority, who had sought to elevate himself, a mere creature — though a highly exalted one — above the Creator. Once he was in Eden in beauty, on the Holy Mountain of God. Eden was a garden on a mountain. It was the throne room of God and this cherub guarded it. But he was cast out for his sin, cast into the earthly Eden, where he sought to strike back at God in the only way he knew — by enlisting God’s human creatures in his rebellion.

So, why the form of a snake? Because that is how throne guardian angels were depicted in Ancient Near Eastern literature and art. No one in the culture from which this tale originated would have imagined this to be merely a rat snake or even a viper. No, this is an angelic being, a divine being. Perhaps the best visual image I can offer of this is the funerary mask of King Tutankhamen — the most ornate, golden one. On the crown on his forehead there is depicted a cobra with its hood spread, a sign of divine protection of the king — a throne guardian. That’s the ancient understanding. No one would have mistaken this snake in Eden for an ordinary snake in the grass. This was a angel, and a fallen one at that.

And he continues his assault upon God, this time through subtlety and misdirection. He attacks God’s “flank,” by using God’s creatures — our first parents — against God.

Genesis 3:1a–6 (ESV): He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” 2 And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, 3 but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’ ” 4 But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. 5 For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” 6 So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate.

There is so much of importance to explore here, but so little time. First, note that the temptation to disobey God was not internal to the woman, but external. The thought did not originate with her; rather, she was assaulted with this thought by the serpent. We sometimes kid ourselves that we generate our thoughts, that our mind is a “thinking machine,” and that we are in control of it. Whether that is true at all, I will leave to others. But this text, and our experience, shows us that our minds are also receptive organs, just as our eyes. Our eyes don’t generate the sights they see; they receive light from external sources. The same is true with our ears…and with our minds. We receive thoughts from external sources. And not all those sources are good. You see the thoughts that the serpent is planting in the woman’s mind and heart: God is a liar. God is not to be trusted. God is selfish and wants to keep you “down” as a mere creature when you can be so much more, when you can be like God himself.

Isn’t that your experience, too? It certainly is mine. Thoughts, temptations, horrible things arise and you are dismayed that such darkness resides in you. Well, take courage; it doesn’t. You are being assaulted; you are under attack as the woman was under attack in Eden, as Jesus was under attack during his temptation in the wilderness and later in Gethsemane. Temptations — thoughts — will surely come. The issue is what we do with them.

The Desert Fathers, who were experts in the wiles of this ancient serpent and his use of thoughts against us, tell us simply to ignore such thoughts — just ignore them: pray, sing a Psalm, refocus yourself in worship or busy yourself with productive work. Do anything except engage with the thought. Down the path of engagement, of pondering and mulling over the thought, lies a fall. And that engagement, to mankind’s great harm, is exactly what the woman did. She gazed at the tree. She saw that it was good for food, that it was a delight to the eye, and she desired by it to be made wise: all acts of engagement with the temptation. And she ate. Moreover, she gave some to her husband — she became a temptress herself, she enlisted with the serpent in his rebellion — and he ate.

This is neither the place nor the time to apportion blame; the enemy deceived Eve and used her to spread the rebellion to Adam, and the consequences of that rebellion spread to all sons and daughters of these fallen parents. But, before the text gets to that, there is this word of God’s judgment to the serpent:

Genesis 3b:14–15 (ESV): “Because you have done this,
cursed are you above all livestock
and above all beasts of the field;
on your belly you shall go,
and dust you shall eat
all the days of your life.
15 I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and her offspring;
he shall bruise your head,
and you shall bruise his heel.”

Now, again, we need to beware a simplistic and literal reading of this. This is not about how snakes “lost their legs” or the power of speech. This is about the debasement of the throne guardian angel who sought to elevate himself about God. Instead, he finds himself as low as it is possible to go: not standing defiantly, but cowering on the ground, eating dust. We know that snakes don’t eat dust, so what does this mean? The answer lies ahead in the text, when God speaks to Adam:

Genesis 3:19 (ESV): 19 By the sweat of your face
you shall eat bread,
till you return to the ground,
for out of it you were taken;
for you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.”

Man is dust, and at his his death he returns to dust. And it is that — the dust of death and decay — that will be the food of the serpent. He will eat death; he will consume the world in death. He will reign over the dead, but his kingdom will be only dust and ashes.

There are more consequences to Adam and the woman. She will have pain in childbirth, though being fruitful is still her vocation. She will be at odds with her husband and will find herself subservient to him. As for Adam, the food which once came easily and freely as a gift from the earth, will henceforth come only grudgingly with toil and sweat, and, as we’ve noted, he and all those he will come to love, will die.

It all seems pretty harsh, doesn’t it, the punishment disproportionate to the crime: especially a death sentence on every human to be born? And yet the Fathers assure us that this was an act of grace and mercy and not of revenge or punishment. St. Athanasius, in his work On the Incarnation, writes that God gave us mortality, gave us death, to spare us from living eternally in our fallen state — a great mercy. St. John of Damascus, in An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, asserts that mortality is a requirement for repentance and return to God. He goes so far as to state that lack of mortality is precisely why the angels cannot repent. Death is God’s gift to man to bring us back to him in repentance. Notice in the text that while Adam and the woman were yet immortal — before God’s pronouncement to Adam — they were each given an opportunity to repent, and, instead, each excused himself and blamed another. I find that in my own life, the reality and the growing nearness of death spur me to greater repentance.

Well, all in all, Genesis 3 tells a pretty dismal story but for one glimmer of light, a word of prophesy and doom that God speaks to the serpent about this relationship he has initiated with the woman:

Genesis 3:15 (ESV): 15 I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and her offspring;
he shall bruise your head,
and you shall bruise his heel.”

The Fathers see in this the first hint of the Messiah, the offspring of the woman who will bruise/crush the head of the serpent, who will spell the end of his dominion over the dead. We are familiar with that, aren’t we, because we are still in the great twelve days of celebration of the fulfillment of that prophecy:

Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord (Luke 2:10-11, BCP 2019, p. 27).

The serpent will — as the story moves toward its climax — bruise this Savior’s heel at Calvary. But the Savior will crush the head of the serpent there and will harrow the serpent’s dusty domain and bring all the dead to life. Man who fell in Eden was raised at the cross.

…he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel (Gen 3:15c).

Amen.

Apostles Anglican Church
Fr. John A. Roop

Christmas Eve, 24 December 202
(Isaiah 9:1-7, Psalm 96, Luke 2:1-20, Titus 2:11-14)

For unto us a child is born: unto us a son is given.

1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.

2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)

5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child (Luke 2:1-5, KJV unless otherwise noted).

Caesar Augustus, Cyrenius, the first of the taxations: these are historical details, to be sure, a locating of St. Luke’s narrative within a certain world order of space and time and authority. This is history, not myth, St. Luke insists; this is fact, not fable. But the sheer fact with which St. Luke begins the nativity account is significant and sets the tone for much to follow. And this is the fact: Caesar speaks and the world moves. Caesar speaks and Joseph moves. Caesar speaks and Joseph has no choice but to take his wife — who is ready to deliver at any moment — on a grueling journey to his ancestral home, simply because Caesar speaks. That is the brute, and brutal fact: Caesar speaks and the world moves. That is power, power founded upon the threat of violence and upon the actual use of violence by the host of Roman soldiers under the command of the one who speaks. The story of Jesus starts with Caesar speaking, with the world moving, with Roman power, with the specter of Roman violence.

1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.

St. Luke does not tell his readers how the decree was disseminated; they were probably all too familiar with how Rome “got the news out” about such things. The Empire had good roads and a host of soldiers to travel them. It is not unreasonable to speculate that soldiers made their way throughout Galilee and all other subject territories proclaiming — none too gently — the news of the registration. Perhaps they pressed the local tax collectors into service to help. One way or another, the word spread. Caesar speaks and the world moves.

About this much we can be certain: this decree was not good news for any but the powerful in Rome and for their coffers. Since when has taxation ever been good news for the poor? Since when has compulsory registration for the “draft” ever been good news for the powerless? Since when has coming to the attention of the dictatorial powers-that-be ever been good news for the disenfranchised and the refugees?

Caesar speaks and the world moves: keeping its head down, keeping to the shadows, having seen the Pax Romana, the peace of Rome up close and personal — the brutal wasteland that Rome calls peace. Caesar speaks and the world moves. Caesar speaks and it is not good news.

But, even as Caesar’s voice reverberates, life goes on; “life finds a way” (Jurassic Park). In the midst of natural disasters, war, famine, poverty and the full range of human ills, in the midst of an imperial decree, life goes on and babies are born.

6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn (Lk 2:6-7).

Caesar speaks from his palace and the world moves. A Jewish baby gasps in its first breath, squeezes out its first cry among the animals in a home or a stable or a cave — the tradition is not definitive on the location — and only the parents notice. Caesar is splendidly arrayed in royal robes and inhabits a palace. The baby is wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger, a feeding trough for the livestock. In solidarity with poor mothers throughout all the world then and now, Mary did the best she could with what she had.

We do not know for certain how news of Caesar’s decree spread — who first spoke it, who first heard it, and how it moved outward from those initial few. But, St. Luke does tell us who first proclaimed this news of the baby, who first heard it and how it traveled.

8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord (Lk 2:8-11).

The angel of the Lord — Gabriel, perhaps? So far in his narrative, St. Luke has mentioned no other angel by name but Gabriel alone, so his identity is a reasonable conjecture. Certainly the angel uses Gabriel’s familiar greeting: Fear not. There is no need to say that so routinely unless the angelic presence and the glory of the Lord are awful and terrible. Shepherds were tough, hardened men, afraid of little; remember that David fought the bear and the lion — not to mention Goliath — while he was still a shepherd. To say that this group was “sore afraid” is saying something.

The angel is pronouncing the words, but it is God speaking. God, too, it seems, has a decree for all the world: not that the world is to be taxed, but that it is to be saved. Caesar’s decree was good news for the very few and a heavy burden for the masses. God’s decree is good tidings of great joy for all people provided only they receive it as such.

The angel uses evocative language in this decree: city of David, Saviour, Christ, Lord. The ancestral city of David is the hamlet of Bethlehem, not terribly important either then or now. But, there was another city of David, and the angel’s double entendre cannot be ignored: Jerusalem, the city of the great king, the city on the hill that boasts the temple, the meeting place of God and man. Saviour: and what good Jew could fail to think of Moses when Saviour is mentioned, Moses who liberated God’s people from a brutal and idolatrous nation? Christ — christos in Greek and moshiach in Hebrew — the anointed one in any language. And who were the anointed ones in Scripture? Prophets. Priests. Kings. And finally, perhaps the most confrontational word of all: Lord. The central, non-negotiable Roman creed was “Caesar is Lord.” The great Caesar who speaks and the world moves. The great Caesar backed by the might of Rome. The great Caesar in royal robes in a splendid palace. Caesar — this Caesar — is Lord. No, says the angel. This baby who cries while only his parents notice, this baby whose parents lack the power to procure even a proper place for his birth, this baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a feeding trough — this baby, and not Caesar — is Lord.

Well, these are provocative words, dangerous words, “fighting words.” Caesar has all the armies of Rome at his command to validate and enforce his claim to lordship. What does the baby have?

13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men (Lk 2:13-14).

We must be careful not to let sentimentality, or familiarity with this beautiful language, or the gentle piety of Renaissance art mislead us here. The heavenly host does not refer to a small group of androgynous humanoids with fragile-looking feathery wings and beatific smiles singing Christmas carols in perfect four-part harmony. This is an army. This is God’s angel army any one of which, with a single act of intent, could lay waste Rome and all its world-feared might. And this host, perhaps myriads of myriads filling the sky, lifts its voice as one and proclaims that which brings to nought the pompous and pretentious claims of Caesar: Glory to God in the highest. The great Roman historian Tacitus said about Rome and its empire: They make a desert and call it peace. But of God — to whom be glory in the highest — the great prophet Isaiah said:

3 The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

4 Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain:

5 And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the LORD hath spoken (Is 40:3-5).

On this night, this word is fulfilled in the hearing of the shepherds as the angels give glory to God in the highest and proclaim not Rome’s peace, but God’s peace, not the Roman Emperor, but the true Prince of Peace: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Caesar speaks and the world moves. God speaks — through the angels — and the shepherds move.

15 And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

16 And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger (Lk 2:15-16).

Caesar speaks and the world moves. At the end of the journey waits a tax man, a faceless, nameless bureaucrat just doing his duty in service of the Empire. God speaks and the shepherds move. At the end of their journey is a weary peasant couple in less than ideal surroundings — a weary peasant couple with a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger, a baby who is the Saviour, Christ the Lord.

17 And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.

18 And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them (Lk 2:17-18, 20).

So, it is back to work for the shepherds. Flocks have to be gathered and moved to new grass and fresh water. Predators have to be dissuaded. Ewes have to be delivered of their lambs. Wool has to be sheared. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Rome will speak and the world will move, yes. But the shepherds have heard another voice; they have seen another king. They have traveled to Bethlehem and have seen this thing which the Lord made known to them through the angels; they have glimpsed the Saviour, the Messiah. They have, perhaps, just come to believe in a different kind of peace wrought not through violence but through this baby who is and will be prophet, priest, and king for all people. Though the shepherds almost certainly do not fully grasp it yet, they have seen the end of Rome, the end of empire and the dawning of the Kingdom of God.

18 And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

19 But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart (Lk 2:18-19).

There are Caesars still: empires that stride rough shod across the world, philosophies that demand absolute allegiance, charismatic figures that beguile and seduce, technologies that addict, sin that enslaves. These Caesars still speak and the world still moves. And so we come, year after year, generation after generation, to this story of Caesar and Cyrenius, of shepherds and angels, of Mary and Joseph and the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger because we need to hear spoken the great good news:

10 …Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord (Lk 2:10-11).

There are Caesars still, vaunting themselves in their pride and vain-glory, exulting in their power, shouting their names to the heavens, not realizing that their time is nearly up, that they will be debased, that their power is illusory, that their names are even now being forgotten. And so we come, year after year, generation after generation, to this story of one such Caesar, long gone, of one such empire which exists now only in its ruins. We come to shepherds and angels, to Mary and Joseph and the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, to the one whose kingdom is from everlasting and unto the ages of ages. We come to hear the words of the prophet Isaiah:

6 For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, the mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

7 Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this (Is 9:6-7).

There are Caesars still who speak and expect the world to move, who stand and expect the world to bow, who survey all the kingdoms of the world and demand obeisance. And so we come, year after year, generation after generation to gather with God’s people, to take our stand with the angels, and to say: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Amen.