“The state of this present age wherein zeale hath drowned charitie…”
— Richard Hooker, Of the Lawes of Ecclesiasticall Politie, IV.1.1

Introduction

In the mid-late sixteenth century John Jewel, bishop of Salisbury, wrote a letter to Matthew Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, in which he expressed his concern over the abuse of printed media. “I am afraid of printers,” he wrote, “their tyranny is terrible.”¹ The correspondence concerned the first Latin edition of Jewel’s famous Apologia, which had been printed with a number of errors, much to Jewel’s understandable upset. As he wrote in another letter to Archbishop Parker, “these printers have small regard, as tendering only their private gain.”² Bishop Jewel’s words point to a broader trend in the early modern era, both in England and on the European continent: the abuse of the printing press. If the pen is mightier than the sword, it is even more terrifying when it inspires violence of any sort. For example, if one turns to the second edition of the Geneva Bible, a Calvinist production, one sees that it justified regicide if a monarch’s religion was heterodox (recognizing, of course, that the Calvinist understanding of heterodoxy was wholly unique to Calvinism; Lutherans had their own views, Catholics had their own views, etc.).³ The legal prohibition of the Geneva Bible was a political no less than a theological decision; the murder of King Charles I in 1649 and the chaos that followed in the ensuing decade both signified that Anglican fears of theologically and politically subversive texts were well founded.

Given such a historical heritage, it is a wonder — or, perhaps more honestly, a tragedy — that so many Anglicans today have such little regard for the influence of the written word. It is no less tragic that such little thought is given to the fact that the internet allows for the near-instantaneous, global dissemination of the same. Examples could quickly and easily be multiplied by turning to any number of Anglican blogs, but the real concern here is whether or not bishops should use the internet as a way of expressing their own frustration concerning the current state of the Anglican Communion. The impetus for this question is the recent publication of two letters by Global South Primates, each addressed to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and each expressing dissatisfaction with the current state of the Anglican Communion.⁴ Both letters publicly ask Rowan Williams to call a meeting of the Primates; both letters publicly ask that the Primates of the Episcopal Church (USA) and the Anglican Church of Canada be excluded from this meeting. I cannot help but wonder: what edification comes from the public release of such unhappy documents? Surely, Biblical instruction concerning speech and conflict are still applicable in the internet age?

The Parable of the Mismanaged Company

Let us consider the gravity of these letters and their requests by way of an example. Imagine that in Company X, two managers are allowing tremendous mismanagement of their respective divisions. However, rather than being one problem, this situation has pointed to something additional: the complete absence of any laws or guidelines within the company for dealing with mismanagement. Let us further imagine that, in the wake of this sort of corporate crisis, two other managers publicly disseminate letters to the central manager that request a managerial meeting in which the offending managers are excluded. Would such letters add to, or subtract from, the company’s well-being? Let us assume that most employees already knew of the mismanagement, and let us also assume that most employees were equally upset about it. How could such letters ameliorate the situation? Would they not risk creating factions within the company, such that employees would look at one another not as fellow employees, but as fellow-supporters or fellow-opponents of the letters and their authors? Indeed, there would be good reason for suspecting that such letters were as much about politics and power as they were about the long-term health of the company. Some employees might think, “Good parents argue, but not in front of their children. Poor parents not only argue in front of their children, but also attempt to make their children take sides. Surely, if this is how the family operates, then Company X is no different. Why, then, are the managers arguing publicly?” Far from stabilizing the company’s internal dynamic, such letters would undoubtedly risk making it worse.

Let us press this example in two further ways. First, what if employees in the mismanaged divisions suddenly began asking managers from other divisions to be their overseers? Let us assume that these other managers chose to intervene, albeit in an ad hoc way, such that there was no clear logic behind who was intervening where, or when they might intervene next. The offending managers might of course protest; they might claim, and with good reason, that this was a violation of Company X’s customs. Of course, the intervening managers could retort that they only did what they believed was necessary, because of the gravity of the original offense. But would that make their intervention justifiable? Would that make their letters justifiable? Undoubtedly, there would be justification for getting rid of all four of these managers! There comes a point when it does not matter who started a fight: all participants are equally guilty because all participants have, in various ways, undermined the well-being of the whole company.

Second, knowledge of mismanagement, public argument, and dissension would give competitors a considerable edge in the market! Some employees would undoubtedly defect to work for other employers, and some customers would undoubtedly choose the products of Company Y over those of Company X, simply because it was clear that the latter was a mess. And, the growing dissension would cause some employees and managers to seriously think about starting their own company — whether as a threat or as a reality. Perhaps, despite such a situation, the offending managers — those that originally mismanaged, and those that protested and intervened — would simply continue arguing, intent on proving their offense was the lesser of two evils. Yet, who would call any of these managers wise, and who would say that they had done their jobs well? If a house burns, there is a time and place to argue about whose fault it is. If a marriage suffers, there is a time and place to argue whose fault it is. If a company threatens to go under, there is a time and place to argue about whose fault it is. But that time and place is not in the midst of crisis!

Conclusion

The example, I trust, proves the basic point, even if it is not a one-to-one correlation with the present situation in the Anglican Communion. If there is no clear way to tell that letters of protest will yield a positive benefit, it may be best to avoid publishing them and others like them. Given the absence of law for guiding the Anglican Communion at present, we have been thrown upon an ad hoc method of not only administration but, what is perhaps more important (especially for the long term!), damage control. When St. Paul writes that our speech should be gracious and that we should make “every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace,” we might wish to recognize that there is wisdom in applying his words to our present.⁵ We might also wish to reflect upon the words of St. James, who writes in a passage of rhetorical brilliance,

These conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it; so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly.⁶

To be rather blunt, the bishops of the Anglican Communion would do us all a pastoral favor if they would keep their disagreements, protests, complaints, etc., off of the internet. Such restraint would signify not just dignity on their part, but respect for the well-being of the Anglican Communion itself. Speaking for far more than just myself, I would like this church to last, not least because I want to get married and raise my children in it. No institution has the capacity to withstand, especially over the long term, the sort of public bickering that has consistently sounded forth from the highest levels of our church. Important matters, particularly at a moment of crisis, must be dealt with as wisely and gently as possible. Publicly-issued protests that verge upon being ultimatums fall rather far outside such a purview.