THE HISTORIC VIA MEDIA: THE BOUNDARIES OF ANGLICAN IDENTITY

By Cheryl H. White, Ph.D.

There seems to have been a renewed interest in the via media – indeed, this term has been invoked with increasing frequency amidst the rhetoric of the revisionists within the Episcopal Church.

Many groups who support the recent consecration of Gene Robinson as a bishop of the Church are using the term via media in an attempt to corrupt its historic meaning.

By applying the term to actions that can only be described as unorthodox, these elements within the Episcopal Church are ignoring the very history they claim to understand so well. The implication of this recent rhetoric is that the truth of one generation might be understood differently by the next, and that we must all be willing to create room for each other.

The "middle way" of fully developed historical Anglicanism sought to be inclusive, that much is true, however, the notion of inclusion within the Anglican identity has always had definite limits and boundaries that were clearly drawn.

To look to the proper usage of the term via media requires a history lesson, looking at the origin of the term with Queen Elizabeth I in the sixteenth century. The context in which the term developed historically provides some striking parallels as others before sought to define inclusion in a universal Christian manner.

The break with Rome that occurred in England during the reign of Henry VIII did not represent a final or comprehensive religious solution. England was chaotically torn by years of extremism in the decade following Henry VIII's death under the reigns of Edward VI and Mary I; so bad was the national situation in 1558 that a "settlement" was needed – a compromise that would appease most English subjects.

This was to provide the fertile field for the sowing of the Anglican identity – the via media. It is helpful to recall that most reformers who sought the primitive Church claimed to do so to restore catholicity; in other words, what they searched for were the elements of unity, universality, and inclusiveness.

By 1558, years of protracted theological debate, both in England and on the continent of Europe, had instead yielded institutions defined by their degrees of separation. For Protestants and Roman Catholics alike, the process of reform had long since ceased to be a matter of finding points of agreement between opposing extremes; by the latter half of the sixteenth century, the road to catholicity diverged into multiple paths that were now exclusive.

Elizabeth I therefore faced a dilemma of dramatic proportions as she sought a way to appease the extremes of her populace, for not only was the collective moral mindset of her people at issue, the very unity of the nation and the acceptability of her regime depended upon it.

Although we cannot know precisely how many Protestants there were in England in 1559, one may assume that initially, at least, there were few (J.J. Scarisbrick, 1984). Yet Roman Catholics and Puritan Protestants alike were hostile, and Elizabeth's religious strength seems to have rested with being the reverse of her half-sister, Mary – by contrast, Elizabeth was not devout or rigid in religious practice, and was a patient and cautious realist. Because of all these factors, the idea of the via media probably came to her quite naturally.

Out of Elizabeth's understanding of the necessity of political stability and unity grew a structure that would support true religious unity for the majority of her subjects. Indeed, this likely represents the greatest achievement of her reign.

The Elizabethan Church of England would be historically catholic by definition, as evidenced by the broad and inclusive religious approach the queen seems to have naturally understood. At times, this unity was born of seemingly incompatible marriages of opposing principles, and herein is found the simple genius of the Elizabethan settlement.

Incongruent mixes of opposing theologies represent the very essence of inclusion, and a Church must indeed embrace some diversity to be truly catholic. No one of that era disputed that the Apostolic Church and Holy Scripture were the true guides to catholicity. Not to imply that Elizabeth counted herself a patristic scholar of any degree, but the example of St. Athanasius may have influenced her. His theology provides a striking and interesting parallel for comparison, both in the sixteenth century and today.

Athanasius, a fourth century Egyptian bishop, was an early champion of orthodoxy. He strongly supported the faith formalized by the Council of Nicaea in 325, in what became known as the Nicene Creed. He did not seek to define God for others precisely because the human mind, created in the image of God, cannot fathom the Divine Mind of the uncreated, transcendent God.

Rather, Athanasius encouraged diversity and personal exploration within wide but recognized essential boundaries, for broad truth among Christian believers. According to Athanasius, it was precisely within tradition that individuals could find their own unique way to a personal knowledge of Christ. As diversity was a necessary characteristic of a universal Church, so for St. Athanasius the creed was a signpost for the faithful – a signpost that marked the necessary boundaries.

It makes an interesting parallel to see this early patristic understanding applied so directly in the Elizabethan age, for hers was a regime that sought out diversity and embraced it within historic and catholic limits.

Some might recall that Athanasius is remembered best for addressing one of the first major heresies of the Church.

Arius, a priest in Alexandria, Egypt, evolved the heresy known as Arianism, which denied the true divinity of Christ. He argued that the Son of Man did not share the same full divinity as God the Father. The Son was not eternal, believed Arius, but was created from nothingness as an instrument solely for the salvation of the world. Arius was excommunicated by a Church council at Alexandria in about 320 and exiled.

His following continued to grow, however. There were other theological debates that were festering during this same time, but it was the issue of the Trinity that seems to have most compelled Emperor Constantine to convene the first general council of the Church at Nicaea in 325. The new faith of the Roman Empire needed discipline, so the council's major task was, of course, to draft a comprehensive creed.

The great early Church historian Eusebius of Caesarea tells us that the greatest desire of Constantine was to preserve and maintain peace in his empire. To draw the parallel with sixteenth century England, there can be no doubt that it was a similar shrewd political necessity that drove the inclusive Elizabethan religious policy.

At Nicaea, the writings of Athanasius were used in support of Christ's true divinity. If Christ was the Savior, Athanasius reasoned, then He could not be less than God, for only God could restore humanity to communion with Himself. What followed, of course, was the cementing of a fundamental statement of Christian belief, to set with certainty the nature of belief that all Christians must share to be a part of the catholicity of the Church.

Jesus was confirmed at Nicaea as belonging to the world of the eternal and uncreated; in the creed He was and remains "true God from true God; begotten, not made, one in being with the Father." The Roman Empire needed to fix the boundaries for the faithful, to avoid further religious strife that threatened the imperial threads themselves.

St. Athanasius supplied the logic and reasoning and averted a major split in Christianity in the fourth century. By parallel, Elizabeth I faced similar challenges and employed a similar approach on a smaller scale.

Elizabeth brought an innate wisdom with her to the throne of England.

It was a wisdom rooted in a fundamental understanding of human nature, although it was certainly never a foregone conclusion that she would possess any greater understanding of catholicity and unity than her siblings had.

In her youth, Protestant teachers tutored her, and all of her life Catholics had been suspicious of her. Elizabeth herself had been the target of her sister Mary's feverish religious wrath. The necessity of survival made her a master of amalgamation. From her unique life perspective, she was able to see the benefits of inclusive diversity in a manner that eluded her predecessors and even her contemporaries elsewhere in Europe.

Reformed English Catholicism thereby emerged as "Athanasian," for Elizabeth sought to anchor firmly the spiritual signpost for her people, while comprehensively addressing the diversity that was characteristic of the age in which she lived. Hers was a Church of England tethered to the church universal by the authority of Holy Scripture, traditional doctrine, sacraments, and preservation of a historic liturgy.

Her approach often represented a unique blending of extremes with an awkward match of opposites, yet this was precisely what the renewal of catholicity may have required. For instance, the formula for Holy Communion reflected a Protestant expression: "Take and eat this in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith with thanksgiving."

This meshed with the formula from the original 1549 prayer book: "The body of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life" (Guy, 1988). While not openly affirming the concept of transubstantiation, this formula nevertheless assured Christ's real presence in the Eucharist. It was a settlement of theologies, a compromise that addressed the Eucharistic understanding of a diverse group of Christians.

Elizabeth was convinced that her "middle way" was the best promise for inclusiveness and unity, rather than the examples of extremism that characterized the preceding decade. Elizabeth believed that it was Mary's surrender to extremism that had wrecked the Marian Church of England and that extremism would, if allowed to dominate, do the same to hers.

She seemed determined to never allow clerical extremism to dominate the religious landscape while she lived as queen.

By uniting all but the most rigid extremes, the Church of England became more inclusive and universal under Elizabeth I, and therefore by definition, more catholic.

The "middle way" cut a broad path in the sixteenth century, but would be incompletely defined without the limitations of Holy Scripture, the Creeds, and a reverence for history. By anchoring the signpost for her subjects, Elizabeth meant for it to endure the times.

Once Parliament had completed the necessary legal services for the queen, she would not call upon it again to discuss matters of religion. In fact, Elizabeth became angry if members of Parliament attempted to initiate further church change.

Upon the dissolution of the 1559 Parliament, Sir Nicholas Bacon summed up that the law now bound any decision made in Parliament, however much individuals might dissent in their private consciences. Bacon stated that the queen's religious settlement would endure, and the queen would have little patience with "those who imperiled it by trying to go before the law, or beyond the law" (Hartley, 1981).

Later in her reign (January 1580) Elizabeth sent a firm admonition to the House of Commons that they were "not to deal with matters touching Her Majesty's Person or Estate, or touching Religion (D'Ewes, 1682).

The via media never stretched so far as to include heresy of any nature. Also, the "middle way" never implied that Holy Scripture or tradition could be ignored for the sake of diversity and inclusion. The traditional teaching of the historic church was cemented firmly in the via media of Elizabeth I, and for the orthodox among us, continues to be a cornerstone of our Anglican identity.

To invoke the great tradition of the via media to justify sin is a grave injustice to the dignity and integrity of one of the most brilliant and comprehensive settlements of unity that the Christian Church has ever known.

Elizabeth I sought to include the majority of her subjects in a comprehensive religious unity, understanding that the extremes might not be appeased. In the middle, however, were the majority of Christians who recognized the boundaries of historic tradition and Holy Scripture.

The modern argument focused on the state of our church today always devolves to this basis – there are many of us who cannot accept the sanction of sin as just another manifestation of inclusive Anglicanism. If modern Episcopalians are truly concerned about embracing anew the via media, then why does it now cut so narrow a path as to theologically exclude those who insist upon its original boundary - the authority of Holy Scripture?