The Question: Is It Time to Throw Out Anglicanism's "Three-Legged Stool"?
Anglican theology is often described as Scripture, reason, and tradition comprising a three-legged stool. But has it outgrown its usefulness? Or worse, has it become dangerous?
Stop me if you’ve heard this one: “Anglicans do theology holding in tension Scripture, reason, and tradition, being accountable to all three, while holding them in balance.” The Reformation theologian Richard Hooker often gets cited as the developer of this idea. This is how I was initially taught how Anglicans approach theology way back in my confirmation class nearly twenty years ago. In fact, in my early days in seminary, I often employed the short-hand of the “three-legged stool” of Anglicanism to explain theology to newcomers to the parish where I served as seminarian. The Episcopal Church’s own website even employs the metaphor in explaining theological sources for Anglicans. However, after further reflection and study (such as actually reading Hooker’s Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity), I have come to believe that the metaphor not only muddies a pretty clear and straightforward teaching, but that it is an increasingly dangerous idea in our post-modern context.
Let’s start with Richard Hooker. Born in England in 1554, Hooker grew up in the generation after Henry VIII’s formal rift with Rome. The Book of Common Prayer had been published (twice, once in 1549 and another version in 1552), putting the liturgy in the hands of the people in English for the first time. Elizabeth was crowned queen two months shy of Hooker’s fifth birthday, and her determination to support the Church of England rather than the Church of Rome so long as she was queen helped settle one important question. Her nearly fifty-year reign as Queen is likely as responsible as anything else to the existence of Anglicanism today. Had she died merely a few years into her reign as several of her predecessors had, England may well have jumped back into the Tiber, destined for Rome.
Elizabeth’s long reign as queen did not, however, settle matters theologically. Hooker gained a reputation as a young priest for his strongly anti-Puritan sermons, arguing against their doctrine of predestination as being unbiblical. In fact, it was arguing against the Puritan theological position that inspired Hooker to write his magnum opus, Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. This five-volume treatise not only defends the Church of England and The Book of Common Prayer from Puritan attacks, it also sets out to articulate a workable theological framework that neither adopted the Roman position that there are things not found in Scripture that are required for salvation (such as the Roman Magisterium—the idea that the Pope and Bishops in communion with him possess the authority to interpret Scripture accurately), nor adopted Lutheran position held among most continental Protestants of sola Scriptura— “Scripture alone” or “Scripture only.” Here’s Hooker in his own words:
What Scripture doth plainly deliver, to that the first place both of credit and obedience are due; the next whereunto, is what any man can necessarily conclude by force of Reason; after this, the voice of the church succeedeth. That which the Church by her ecclesiastical authority shall probably think and define to be true or good, must in congruity of reason overrule all other inferior judgements whatsoever…1
A few things stand out: first, nowhere does Hooker equate Scripture, reason, and tradition. In fact, it’s the opposite. Scripture is always the starting place. If something is absolutely clear in Scripture (i.e. Jesus is Lord, Jesus rose form the dead, etc.) then that’s the end of it. When Scripture is not clear, Hooker says, then human reason can be considered. Then finally, the authority (tradition) of the Church can be sought to settle remaining questions.
So when the rubber meets the road, why does all of this matter? I’m glad you asked! Every study that has tracked rates of Bible engagement (usually defined as reading/studying Scripture at least 3-4 times per year apart from worship services) in the United States has reported the same thing: Bible engagement is at a historic low. (Before you go blaming the young people again, you should know that Gen Z is not the most disengaged generation when it comes to the Bible! That moniker belongs to my generation—the Millennials!) When a culture has no identifiable faith tradition, they don’t go through life simply not engaged in worship and ritual. Rather, worship of secular things (money, fame, sex, pleasure, domination, you name it), and other secular rituals (can we put “gender reveals” in this category?) takes the place of the sacred. Every human being worships something, just as every human being engages in liturgy at some level. That’s not a question. The question is: what are they worshipping and how are they engaging in liturgy?
The Bible disengagement phenomenon is not just affecting those outside the Church. Christians themselves are also more disengaged with Scripture than in previous generations. I cannot tell you the number of sermons by ordained clergy that either wholly ignore the Scriptures appointed for the day, or dance around them to the point that if you hadn’t actually heard the texts read out loud before the sermon started, you would not have known which Scriptures were appointed. Like the culture writ large, when Scripture is absent or omitted, other things will creep into its place.
When Scripture is held in equal tension with reason and tradition, and when we consider the related fact that Biblical literacy is woefully low among Mainline Christians (ahem, Episcopalians!), the logical slippage from “Scripture contains all things necessary to Salvation” to “Jesus or Paul or whatever got it wrong about X, Y, or Z” and “God is found at the end of our understanding” comes fully into view. If I never hear another sermon calling Jesus “antifeminist” for calling the Canaanite woman a dog,2 or a pastor who labels Paul a “homophobe,” I will die a happy man. There is not a doubt in my mind that both women and LGBTQ+ people have a full and equal place in the life and ministry of the Church, but I am bone-weary tired of making theological claims using non-theological arguments.
What do I mean? An analogy:
Claim: Women should be ordained with equal authority as men.
Non-theological reasoning: Women and men are on equal footing in modern society; scientists have proven that women are of equal intelligence and capability as men, therefore, the Church should move away from its patriarchal hegemony and embrace women as fully equal to men and ordain them accordingly.
Theological reasoning: Women were the first witnesses to the resurrection. If they had not told anyone what they had seen, the resurrection hope of the church would have died with them. The Great Commission directs the faithful to go into the world to make disciples of Jesus. Women were the first examples of this. Therefore, they should be ordained on equal footing as men.
I should note that there is nothing inherently wrong with the non-theological reasoning in the example I cite. In fact, it is not only true, but recent studies of aptitude test scores, college and graduate school admissions rate, and other markers suggest that women likely possess greater intelligence than men. (My wife has known this for years, and regularly collects additional empirical data!) That said, the first example stands on its own without appealing to Scripture or other theological sources. The first rule of doing theology is that one must be accountable to Scripture. Scripture is always authoritative, but it is not always normative. What do I mean? All things being equal, one’s parents will always be a source of authority in one’s life, even well into adulthood and becoming parents ourselves. We always3 consult our parents for wisdom, counsel, perspective and advice. But our parents are not always normative. Just because Mom drove a Chrysler doesn’t mean I’m prohibited from buying a Volvo. Just because Dad voted for Reagan doesn’t mean I can’t vote for Bernie.
If this seems tricky, then congratulations! You’re paying attention. How does one know when Scripture is being normative? The answer may seem simplistic, but the first rule is that Scripture tells us so: words like “commandment” and “I speak with authority” and “this is a true saying worthy of all to be repeated” are instructive. In the Pauline correspondence, Paul will often opine by first saying, “This is how I do this thing…” (veiling of women’s heads in worship in the Corinthian correspondence is a good example of this.)
The more nuanced answer is that to read the New Testament itself is to read an exercise in conversion. The foundational experience of a crucified and risen Messiah is on its face a re-interpretation of Torah. “Cursed is the man who hangs on the tree.” Deuteronomy 21:23. To claim that the Messiah hung on a tree; that the Messiah was cursed, is a radical departure from the assumptions made in Torah. Moreover, when Paul writes in 2 Timothy chapter 3 that “all Scripture is God-breathed, profitable, and useful for our learning,” he’s referring to Torah because the New Testament didn’t exist yet! Therefore, a faithful Christian can neither dismiss Torah (it is Scripture, God-breathed, and useful for learning), nor can we dismiss the experience of those in the Gospels of a Messiah who is cursed for hanging on a tree. The only way possible to hold these two diametrically opposed positions together is by conversion.
The Book of Acts, and particularly Peter’s conversion on the question of clean and unclean foods in chapter 10, demonstrates the experience of conversion for Christians. Of equal importance is Paul’s conversion on the experience of the Risen Lord in the person of Jesus. This is the reason why I grieve every time I hear a Christian say, “You will not change my mind.” If minds never changed, Christianity wouldn’t exist!
Returning to Hooker and the bad analogy of the “three-legged stool.” As I have alluded to elsewhere, if the cry of the continental reformers was sola Scriptura—Scripture alone—then surely the cry of the post-modern world is sola ratio—reason alone. Alongside our demotion of Scripture to a plane equal to that of reason and tradition is our simultaneous elevation of human reason to a place of almost unparalleled importance. As Paul Tillich warned us, however, reason also suffered the Fall—it, like every other part of the cosmos, was infected by the consequences of sin.
I wish I could say that I don’t mean to sound alarmist about all of this, but I think alarm is called for. The consequences of either reducing the centrality of Scripture within Christianity, or of elevating human reason and Church tradition to a plane equal to that of the Divine are not just theological slippage. In fact, it is not an exaggeration to say that it can have (and already has) a body count. Following this slippage to its logical conclusion means countenancing the very boundaries of life: when it begins, when it ends, who decides, and why.
It’s long past time we throw the “three-legged stool” analogy into the dumpster along all of those bad Trinitarian analogies, and dig deep into the Scriptures, for they are indeed the Living Word. To reduce by even a fraction of a degree Scripture from its place as the grounding of the Church is to short-circuit the ability of the Church to speak with authority on some of the most serious matters of our time. What is most frightening of all, however, is that when the Church ceases engaging Scripture as the Living Word, I fear we will lose the ability to speak intelligibly even to ourselves.
Laws, V,8,2: 39, 8-14.
Matthew 15:21-28; Mark 7:24-30
For ease of argument, I am assuming all things are well relationally.