Faithful Living: Discipleship, Creed, and Ethics

By Michael Leyden

How can the things we do and say in Church impact our lives and shape the decisions we make on a daily basis? What kind of life is implied for people who believe the things that Christians believe? Faithful Living attempts to think through these questions and considers the formational impact worship can have on Christian ethics, and therefore on the lives of Christian disciples.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SCM Press
• Release date: May 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9780334058212

Book preview

titlepage

Contents

Title

Dedication

Preface

Nicene Creed

1 Ethics by Implication

2 ‘We Believe in God’: Community and Morality

3 ‘Maker of Heaven and Earth’: Consuming Our Fellow Creatures

4 ‘In One Lord, Jesus Christ’: Political Responsibility

5 ‘Conceived of the Holy Spirit, Born of the Virgin Mary’: Disability and Humanity

6 ‘Suffered Death and was Buried…’: Suffering

7 ‘On the Third Day He Rose Again’: Hope and Moral Vision

8 ‘The Lord and Giver of Life’: The Holy Spirit and the Christian Life

9 ‘Communion of Saints, and Forgiveness of Sins’: The Church and Practical Catechesis

Bibliography

Index of Biblical References

Index of Names and Subjects

Copyright

For Anna, Eliana and Simeon

with my love and gratitude always xxx

Preface

The early seeds of thought for this book were planted a decade ago in lecture rooms at both St John’s College, Nottingham, and All Saints Centre for Mission and Ministry, Warrington, where I was visiting lecturer in Christian doctrine and ethics. Those seeds have been nurtured and grown over the past seven years into something much more substantial and, hopefully, edifying through teaching systematic theology, ethics and liturgical theology at St Mellitus College. During this time my aim has been to hold doctrine, biblical exegesis, ethics and worship together as mutual and complementary sub-disciplines within the wider task of Christian dogmatics. By dogmatic theology I do not mean some unwavering, hard-lined or arrogant approach to Christianity; rather, dogmatics is the ancient discipline of explaining the fulness of the Christian gospel by considering its rational, practical and spiritual components.

Put another way, dogmatic theology attends to the widest and deepest meaning of the gospel of Jesus Christ by viewing and interpreting it through a variety of specifically focused ‘lenses’. These lenses often overlap with the sub-disciplines you are likely to find in a university Department of Theology: biblical studies, systematic theology, Church history, practical theology, pastoral theology, liturgical theology, ethics and the rest. But unlike such a department, the ultimate goal of dogmatics is not the separation of disciplines through increasing specialization and methodological detachment, but their integration. Such bringing together of disciplines which dogmatics entails results, at its best, in a holistic sharpening of focus on the singular object of Christian devotion: the triune God made known in the birth, life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Dogmatic theology is, therefore, necessarily interdisciplinary and by its very nature confessional: it flourishes only in the context of an existing faithful, worshipping community trying to make lived sense of its confession of faith.¹ Dogmatics is, therefore, the kind of theology that resources Christian discipleship.

The reason for the absolute unity-in-distinction which holds these lenses together is that the most basic concern of Christian theology, the gospel, is a single event narrated in the story of Jesus Christ – a story in the past, present and future tenses – in which the world is judged, condemned, reconciled and redeemed by God. And because Jesus the God-human is, according to the Church’s confession in the Chalcedonian Definition (451), entirely one identity without confusion, separation, division or change, the Church is not permitted to allow its thinking about and proclamation of his gospel to become fragmented, twisted, warped or diluted. Doing so would be to bear false witness to God who is revealed supremely and finally in Christ. Dogmatics is, therefore, complicated. It is also necessary for a healthy Church: one that knows what it believes and therefore knows how to live.

That said, considering Christian ethics as part of the dogmatic task is, surprisingly, uncommon. There are some stand-out examples from the past century (Karl Barth, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Helmut Thielicke), but on the whole ethics has been so regarded as a practical discipline that it has become increasingly distanced from what are perceived to be conceptual discussions in doctrine, or historico-sociologico-linguistic arguments in biblical studies, or peculiar debates about niche texts in liturgical studies. (And no doubt these sub-disciplines have become beset with arguments that are less than helpful to Christian ethicists.) Furthermore, the situation worsens when we remember that Christian ethical reasoning walks a fine line between the Church and the world (since so often our deliberations take place in tortuous dialogue with those whose worldview and underlying commitments are not our own) and so Christians must make efforts to articulate a common vision for human flourishing which is aligned with, or palatable to, or at least interesting to, those outside the Church if it wants to have an impact. For the sake of the common good it is a worthy approach, but it usually means emptying Christianity of its most radical doctrinal claims and undermining the dogmatic nature of ethics by separating our thinking about what to do from our formal thinking about who we are and what we believe. Christian ethicists cannot rely on undefined moral sentiments such as ‘justice’ or ‘equality’ without considering their theological and doctrinal meaning and therefore the peculiar voice that Christian faith brings to these issues; nor can they avoid exclusive religious commitments altogether to garner general support for an idea; nor can they become pseudo-biblicist or biblio-centric and miss the power of a theological framework for moral discourse which helps us to see who we are and how we are to live in the light of who God is rather than simple, hardline obedience to biblical imperatives. Of course, not all Christian ethics work this way.

Working, as I do, in the context of training women and men for ordained ministry, it seems to me that asking future Church leaders to consider with utmost seriousness what difference the Church’s proclamation about God and the world might make to their lives and the lives of those to whom they minister is of fundamental importance both to Christian discipleship and the Church’s mission. If ethics were regarded as part of dogmatics, then the ensuing task of equipping Christians to live in ways that are consistent with their doctrinal beliefs, and then to articulate clearly to a watching world why they live as they do, would also be to equip a generation to proclaim the gospel afresh.

One helpful oddity of the Anglican tradition is that we carry our doctrinal commitments in our liturgy rather than in a separate doctrinal basis or statement of faith. It means that our doctrine ‘hits the ground running’ in worship, and worship in turn shapes us by always seeking to lead us in a Godward direction – the God revealed in Jesus Christ and witnessed in Scripture and Creed. For me, therefore, writing as an Anglican priest, it is necessary that the interplay between doctrine and ethics is framed liturgically, since worship and liturgy is the place where clearest expression is given to substantive content of Christian faith, i.e. the place where Christian theological commitments are most obviously laid out and invite our response. As the ancients used to say: lex orandi, lex credendi – we believe what we pray and we pray what we believe.² One of the sub-tasks of this book is to extend that idea and explore lex vivendi as an additional and necessary aspect of this dynamic: we believe what we pray, and we pray what we believe, and our beliefs and prayers inform how we live. Worship is the place where disciples are formed intellectually, spiritually and practically as they endeavour to order their lives in response to the gospel.³

Perhaps surprisingly to some, given its breadth and variety, Anglicanism is orthodox and its liturgies take the Bible and creeds very seriously, which means that what emerges from a study such as this one is not a denominational ethic but a Christian ethic. To be doubly sure that this present book connects beyond the Anglican fold, I have chosen to attend to only one universally consistent aspect of liturgical worship: the Nicene Creed.⁴ (A more fulsome treatment of the ethical and moral impact of liturgical worship is a topic for another book.) I explain more of this in Chapter 1, but suffice to say now that if doctrine is often overlooked in ethical deliberation it is even rarer to see liturgical material used to shape moral discourse. But the potential for discipleship and mission is considerable, since thousands of churches around the world make the Nicene Creed part of their weekly gathered worship. Identifying and exploring the ethical implications of liturgy is the underlying vision of this book, and this seems wholly consistent with the dogmatic task outlined above. Nowhere will I attempt to make the case that ethics should be thought of in this way, but rather I assume it from the beginning and work out the rest of the book on that basis by investigating the implications of our doctrinal commitments for our daily decisions and actions.

I am extremely grateful to all the students who have helped me to shape the present work by engaging, challenging, affirming and refining the ideas first delivered in lectures and now in print – and for the good grace and humour with which they have participated in my classes. To work one’s craft in such places and among such people is a gift to any teacher, and has been, for me at least, nothing less than a sign of God’s grace.

Of course, the ideas have been refined considerably in conversation with good friends and outstanding colleagues. I am especially grateful to Nicholas Anderson, Helen and Pete Chantry, Simon Chesters, Claire Cooke, Simon Cuff, Ben and Alison Fulford, Lincoln Harvey, Joe Kennedy, Mark Knight, Donna Lazenby, Anna Leyden, Jonathan Phillips, Steve Torr, Carys Walsh and Jane Williams, whose comradeship and friendship has shaped the author and his work for the good. And to my parents and parents-in-law, Jan and Al, Brian and Mary, whose support has always been without limit. I’m especially grateful to Jill Duff, now Bishop of Lancaster and my predecessor as Director of St Mellitus College North West, who has encouraged this project since its inception. Without her boundless energy and roaring enthusiasm it is doubtful it would have seen the light of day.

Being a scholar-priest is one thing, and being a parish-priest is oftentimes another; being both things at once is something quite different.⁵ I am very grateful to the former Bishop of Liverpool, The Rt Revd James Jones; the current Bishop of Chester, The Rt Revd Dr Peter Forster; the Bishop of Derby (formerly Suffragan Bishop of Stockport), The Rt Revd Libby Lane; and the President of St Mellitus College and fellow cricket fan, The Rt Revd Dr Graham Tomlin, all of whom in different ways have enabled me to fulfil a dual-role ministry in parish and in theological education. I am convinced this pattern, though sometimes tricky, enriches both the students and the parishes in which I have served, as well as my own life. Over the years the people of St Barnabas Inham Nook, St Ann Rainhill, All Saints Weston with St Mark Shavington, and more recently St Peter at the Cross Chester, have taught me a great deal about the love of God, about grace and forgiveness, and about the importance of Church community for our mutual flourishing in Christ. They have also persevered through my sermons with good humour, including a series on the Nicene Creed, and offered helpful feedback on some of the key elements of this book. I am grateful to all of them, but most especially to the office holders at Weston and Shavington – the Church Wardens, Roger Bracey and Robert Galloway, and Licensed Lay Ministers (Readers), Margaret Hodgkinson, Ginny Lewis, Anna Leyden, and trainees Gaynor Bracey and Chris Neufeld – whose ministries are value-added in that place and brought richness to the community while allowing their then vicar time to think and write.

I must also thank David Shervington, commissioning editor at SCM Press, for his patient support and encouragement to get this project finished in the midst of a busy work-life, some family worries, and an ever-expanding ‘to do’ list. I am very grateful to him, and to God for him.

The final word of thanks must go to another, much smaller community: three people without whom my life would be considerably impoverished and this book would still be a thing of the imagination. To my wife, Anna, and our children, Eliana and Simeon, whose love and encouragement is much more than I deserve and whose sense of fun and enjoyment of family life has kept me grounded in what really matters to God, I express my deepest and unending thanks. To these three this book is dedicated.

Notes

1  A critical account of the development of theology in a university context, and the challenge it provokes for Christians, can be found in John Webster, Theological Theology: An Inaugural Lecture delivered before the University of Oxford on 28th October 1997 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998).

2  Karl Barth described the phrase lex orandi lex credendi as ‘one of the most profound descriptions of the theological method’ in his essay ‘The Gift of Freedom’ in his The Humanity of God (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1960), 90.

3  The Reformed theologian James K. A. Smith has been helpfully addressing these issues in his multi-volume Cultural Liturgies series. See, for example, the first volume, Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), or the recent popular version, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2016).

4  See G. W. Bromiley’s summary of the universal ecumenical impact of the Nicene Creed in the essay, ‘Unity and Confession’, in his The Unity and Disunity of the Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958), 75–82.

5  A really helpful account of this kind of dual ministry has recently been offered by Gerald Heistand and Todd Wilson, The Pastor Theologian: Resurrecting an Ancient Vision (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015).

The Nicene Creed

We believe in one God,

the Father, the Almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God,

eternally begotten of the Father,

God from God, Light from Light,

true God from true God,

begotten, not made,

of one Being with the Father;

through him all things were made.

For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven,

was incarnate from the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary and

was made man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;

he suffered death and was buried.

On the third day he rose again

in accordance with the Scriptures;

he ascended into heaven

and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,

and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit,

the Lord, the giver of life,

who proceeds from the Father and the Son,

who with the Father and the Son is worshipped and glorified,

who has spoken through the prophets.

We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.

We look for the resurrection of the dead,

and the life of the world to come.

1

Ethics by Implication

Introduction

How should Christians live, and what differences might our faith make to the daily round of decisions and actions that make up our lives? These are questions you might hear on the lips of parishioners, thoughtful members of a youth group, enquiring ordinands and students of religion. But the fact that such questions need to be asked betrays a modern phenomenon in which the theological substance of faith – its basic claims about God, the world and everything else – has become separated from the stuff of everyday life, privatized and relegated to Sunday morning devotions and personal spirituality. Knowing how faith and actions relate to one another is no longer obvious. Nor is it much talked about. In a globalized context, theories of tolerance have dealt with religious claims by relativizing them.¹ And many Christians have colluded with it, though for different reasons. When Pope Francis criticized the US Presidential hopeful Donald Trump for the shallowness of his Christian faith in the light of revelations about his treatment of women and lies about political collusion, the Pontiff received criticism from other prominent Christians, including Trump’s opponents Jeb Bush and Marco Rubio. Bush’s interiorization of faith was explicit, and he would not be drawn on the Christian quality of Trump’s behaviour: ‘I honestly believe that’s a relationship you have with your creator.’² Though the effort to not judge or offend means there may be widespread sympathy for such a sentiment, it masks a deeper (and overriding) commitment to individualism and consumerism. In such a cultural paradigm, faith is not only a personal matter (which it is) but a private matter (which it cannot be). To allow Trump’s inconsistency without question sets a precedent in which what someone claims to believe and how they live need not integrate. Faith gets privatized, and privatized religion separates the intellectual content of faith, i.e. what we believe, from the practical content of faith, i.e. how we live, leading to the kind of anaemic faith that prevents congregations from understanding the practical value of theological commitments.

The questions with which I began this chapter reject this separation in favour of an integrated and holistic account of the Christian life. Integration means treating several distinct parts of something as a whole by linking each part within a wider framework of meaning. An integrated life avoids the fragmentation of human existence into individual moments, beliefs, habits or practices and instead pursues co-inherence as it highest good, choosing to treat the different parts – family, work, hobbies, religion, values, education, culture, sex and gender, and their related decisions and actions – as constituent ingredients of a single identity. What I do, where I am from, what I value, who I love, and what I believe are, among other things, all parts of who I am, or, perhaps more honestly, who I am becoming. A fragmented sense of self is not healthy. It manifests an inward denial of God’s creative intention.

But, integration of parts does not necessarily mean equality of parts. We are not seeking to hold competing aspects in balance. For Christians, the ‘religious’ aspect of life necessarily impacts the whole sense of being and acting, because faith in the triune God has a determinative quality which stems from the worship of Christ as Lord. Such commitment is all encompassing, loving God with the heart, soul, mind and strength (Mark 12.30; Matt. 22.37; Luke 10.27). With this in mind, we might imagine a Christian aspiring to work as a school teacher or nurse or scientist, but it’s tougher to believe she or he would aspire to dealing illegal narcotics or being a hired assassin since that work does not align with the teachings of Jesus: such