Recent Readings: Not Your Typical Apology

In everyday speech, an apology is normally a gracious acknowledgment of fault with a corresponding plea for forgiveness. However, when the theological fault lines of history are showing the rupture of their tectonic plates, an apology means anything but that. 

Perhaps the most formative document for understanding the Church of England in the late-16th century is John Jewell's Apology of the Church of England. This is a short work, when compared to much of the literary output of the times, but it's a seminal and essential work for students of and those interested in Anglican formulation.

Having fled England for the safe haven of continental Europe during Bloody Mary's reign, Jewell returned upon Elizabeth I's ascendancy and was named Bishop of Salisbury in 1560. Known for his sermons and his evangelistic zeal, he channeled his passion into a classic defense of Anglicanism viz a viz the Roman Catholic Church. At a time when the Council of Trent's rumblings accused Protestants of variance to the truth, Jewell took their accusations head on in his Apology.

Jewell is a master of the English language, using words to fine effect as he begins with the reasons why he is writing before demonstrating how the doctrine of the Church of England, the Protestant Reformation, and the church of the New Testament and post-apostolic age all align. He focuses specifically on the nature of Christ as sole Mediator and the dominical sacraments of baptism and Holy Communion...and those two are the only ones, according to Jewell. His rhetorical guns blazing at full capacity over the last half, he levels massive shots of cross-examination against Rome. He carefully rebuts accusations that the Church of England had broken communion with the "true church" and would destroy peaceful, civil government.

Jewell was, of course, a product of his times, and he does get quite punchy. In rejecting pontifical authority, he refers to the Pope as 'Lucifer', 'the forerunner of the Antichrist', and one who has 'forsaken the faith.' Such commentary might be hard for many readers to swallow, although it pales in comparison to the vitriol present in correspondence between Martin Luther and Sir Thomas More. One might also wish to consider that Jewell still had throbbing memories of the bloodletting of martyrs under Mary. When you have friends like Thomas Cranmer, Nicholas Ridley, Hugh Latimer, and John Bradford, among others, torched by the queen's decree, it drives the sibilance of one's writing.

In all, Jewell never pretended this defense was a matter of comfort and ease. He knew otherwise, and it is most appropriate he put this in words, as well: "We, in good truth, expected neither glory, riches, pleasure, nor ease, from this separation; for all those our enemies abound with, and we enjoyed a much greater share of them when we agreed with them. Neither do we shun peace and concord, but we will not fight against God to be at peace with men."

Uncompromisingly firm, truly hopeful. Just like solid theology should be.