Lessons from a Heretic

by Chris Chivers

[Ed. Note: This sermon was originally preached at St. John's College in Cambridge, England on November 23, 2003, centered on the lectionary readings Revelation 1: 4b-8 and John 18: 33-40.]

To live and work at Westminster Abbey is to inhabit a building full of memory and history, a building littered with graves and memorials. And amongst these is a set of boards recording the names of those consecrated as bishops in the Abbey precincts. Many of those listed are certainly significant. From more recent times there are men like Robert Runcie [former Archbishop of Canterbury] and John V. Taylor [former Bishop of Winchester and general secretary of the Church Missionary Society]; and from the nineteenth century, the theological giants, Lightfoot and Westcott. But one name is missing.

On 30th November 1853, John William Colenso was consecrated bishop in the Abbey to serve in the new diocese of Natal in what we now call South Africa. . . .ten years after his consecration he was delated for heresy by an ecclesiastical court, and subsequently excommunicated from the Anglican Church altogether.

One hundred and fifty years ago next Sunday, on 30th November 1853, John William Colenso was consecrated bishop in the Abbey to serve in the new diocese of Natal in what we now call South Africa. But his name wasn't included when the boards were installed because ten years after his consecration he was delated for heresy by an ecclesiastical court, and subsequently excommunicated from the Anglican Church altogether.

Born in Cornwall, John Colenso's early life was neither happy nor settled. His family was poor and life was something of a struggle. But after a long period of indecision he forsook his Cornish non-conformism because he sensed a vocation to be an Anglican priest. Scrimping and saving to get himself to Cambridge he came up to St. John's in 1832 to read what seemed a standard degree then for aspirant parsons, mathematics. Here, he shone intellectually as an exhibitioner, then scholar, who was placed second wrangler in his final exams and immediately elected a fellow. He was ordained deacon, later priest, without a day of formal theological training -- which was not uncommon in those days -- and went off to teach at Harrow. Debts incurred there prompted a swift return to St John's to ensure his solvency. Here, in Cambridge, he made the money he needed by writing what became a standard work -- Colenso's Arithmetic for Schools. More importantly, he came under the influence of the theologian F.D. Maurice.

Maurice was one of the most important nineteenth century theologians, the effective founder of the Christian Socialist Movement, and the great apostle of freedom. He fought for economic freedom for the poor, for the freedom of all within the church to speak the truth, and for the freedom of the church itself from any influence or constraint that would prevent it from proclaiming a universal gospel of love. With all of this, Colenso felt a deep resonance.

To his critics, Colenso's answer was that baptism merely confirmed to the Christian what was already the case for every human soul. All were saved. And the Christian thus had no advantage over anyone else. The seeds of his downfall were being sown.

When he took his first parish appointment as rector of Forncett, in Norfolk, he sought to build on its implications. He did so in ways that went far beyond Maurice's intention. For Colenso, unlike Maurice, believed that a universal gospel was already implicit in the heart of every person. He contended that from birth every human being longed to know God and was already in fact a child of God. Such universalism -- or refinements of it -- has of course gained considerable currency in the church ever since, and doesn't strike many today as that revolutionary, but it was dynamite at the time. For it clearly called into question the traditional doctrine of baptism, the atoning sacrifice of the Cross, and much else besides. To his critics, Colenso's answer was that baptism merely confirmed to the Christian what was already the case for every human soul. All were saved. And the Christian thus had no advantage over anyone else. The seeds of his downfall were being sown.

But when Robert Gray, the first bishop of Cape Town, divided his enormous diocese, and needed a bishop to take over the newly created diocese of Natal, it was not surprising that in the rector of Forncett he found his man. For though Colenso's views had provoked some controversy, at this point he was undoubtedly better known as a bright, young mathematician than as a controversialist and theologian.

The appointment offered Colenso just the platform he desired, giving him the context he needed to demonstrate that what he believed to be true was in fact the case.

His work in Natal was clearly divided into two spheres of ministry. There were the white expatriates who were only really interested in having a traditional Church of England away from home. And there were the rich mission fields -- the black, tribal communities -- who had never heard the gospel before, but in whose indigenous faith the new bishop saw the light of Christ already shining. With the former he quarrelled endlessly to the point where they charged him with heresy. But to the latter he gave most of his attention. And they form the backdrop of the enormous quantity of books and pamphlets which were to flow from his pen in the ensuing years.

He began, as he meant to go on, by accepting that the Zulu words for the gods were appropriate words with which to address the one true God. He also argued that those who lived in polygamous relationships should be accepted as they were, and offered baptism -- which was flatly against mainstream doctrine at the time, though it's certainly a practice to which a blind eye is turned in African Christianity today. From his deep engagement with the Zulu people and their culture -- coupled with his reading of continental European biblical criticism -- came a deep opposition to literalism in all its forms, and an acceptance that much in the Old Testament was historically dubious. It was fable and myth. Unfortunately for Colenso he chose to use the misleadingly loaded term, fiction -- which really set his opponents teeth on edge.

Things came to a head when he challenged the appalling treatment of Africans by their white oppressors. This of course threatened the precarious secular power-base the colonists were anxious to protect. Added to which Colenso published a commentary on Paul's Epistle to the Romans, reiterating all his universalist ideas. The book was widely read and confirmed the author's notoriety -- and unpopularity -- as it blasted holes in the uneasy consensus that had for sometime united opposing factions within the Church of England around a literal and conservative reading of the Bible.

Few were surprised when Colenso was tried as a heretic and found guilty. And fewer still should be surprised by the appetite that the contemporary church shows in such matters. For, as our gospel reading this morning reminds us, there is a very long history indeed of those in religious communities who have felt threatened enough by truth to frustrate its potential for good by colluding with any authority -- however shaky or shady. It's a history that stretches from the noble Nazarene, standing before the beleaguered and compromised Pilate -- with members of the religious hierarchy lurking in the background to pull the strings -- to the figures of Jeffrey John and Gene Robinson, challenging the outworn conservatism of the contemporary Church.

But beyond the individuals who populate this history of the supposed heretic, lies a deeper question as to what sort of a church we believe to be consistent with the gospel of Jesus Christ?

And it seems to me that we have some pretty clear choices here.

Are we prepared to countenance a church which is of the kind Colenso advocated? A church with permeable boundaries? A church which is inclusive, appropriately fuzzy or reticent about who is in and who is out, because it is a church content to leave the detail and the decisions here to God? Or do we favour an exclusive church . . .

Are we prepared to countenance a church which is of the kind Colenso advocated? A church with permeable boundaries? A church which is inclusive, appropriately fuzzy or reticent about who is in and who is out, because it is a church content to leave the detail and the decisions here to God? Or do we favour an exclusive church, a fortress church, a church in which you know where you are, because you've ensured that those who don't share your views have been cast into outer darkness?

Do we want then a church which errs on the generous side or a church where judgementalism predominates? A church which treats culture and context seriously, and which sees the Bible as an invitation to explore the mysteries of love? Or would we rather a church which waves its scriptures about the place as if they represented some kind of literalist rule-book? A church which affirms the incarnational truth that because of Jesus Christ all human life is worthy of our reverence and respect, since all are made in God's image, or a church which is a merely a ghetto of piety for the few? An outward-looking church, engaged with the world for the common good, opening up its space to sustain a dialogue between different perspectives, lifestyles, even faith communities, a church where all can be embraced and touched by God's love, and which promotes the widest possible vision of peace and stability in the world, or simply an inward-reaching club for those who already think that they are saved?

Whatever kind of church we choose -- and I have to say that I'm not especially hopeful at the present time that we're making the right choices here -- of one thing, we can be absolutely sure: the call of God's kingdom will always be heard on the outside amongst the Colensos of this world, way beyond the places of faith and security in which we cocoon ourselves. For it is a call that sounds from a lonely hill beyond the city walls, in the tortured and broken body of the man who hangs there, a man who reminds us that whatever we do to the least of his brethren we do to him. Amen.

The Rev. Chris Chivers is Minor Canon and Precentor at Westminster Abbey. His regular column on "A Globe of Witnesses" is Tell It Slant. Chris may be reached by email at Chris.Chivers@westminster-abbey.org