On a gray November day in 1572 John Knox died in Edinburgh soon after his wife had read to him from John 17 (“where I cast my first anchor”). To his funeral came a great multitude of high and low, including the Earl of Morton, regent during the infancy of James VI. It was Morton who, though no friend of ministers, spoke the epitaph of which Knox himself would surely have approved: “There lies he who never feared the face of man.”
Four centuries have passed, and the land for which the prophet did so much accords him that scant honor which is the traditional prophetic portion. Knox’s house is now a public thoroughfare, and over the tiny tablet that marks his grave the lawyers of Edinburgh park their cars. A BBC speaker last summer referred to “that tiresome old thunderer.” The post office with its baffling preference for second-rate subjects refused to issue a commemorative stamp in this quatercentenary year. The Roman Catholic archivist for Scotland not long ago boasted that although Knox had banned the mass forever, one thousand masses were daily said in the land.
Most pathetic of all, Knox is ignored in the 425-page Church of Scotland Yearbook, where a list of “dates to be noted in 1972” includes the queen mother’s birthday and Girl Guides Thinking Day. In The Concise Dictionary of National Biography, Knox rates only a quarter of the space devoted to his adversary Mary, Queen of Scots, who incredibly has come gliding down the centuries in a romantic aura that owes little to fact. Knox for his part still lies “under a load of unmerited reproach,” and is customarily dismissed as a gloomy bigot whose legacy to Scotland was a hangover that has inhibited innocent enjoyment and the tourist trade.
Take a sixteenth-century preacher, ignore the turbulence of his times and the need for the revolution he successfully led (while one enjoys the fruits of it today), and judge him according to twentieth-century attitudes, and an unfair assessment is inevitable. It is usually augmented by durable lies that have grown up around his name: that, for example, he danced with joy on hearing of the death of Mary of Guise (the mother of Mary, Queen of Scots) and that he was a fierce opponent of the episcopal system and was responsible for the destruction of many beautiful buildings.
Knox was essentially a man born in due season called on to tackle long entrenched evils. No understanding of him is complete without a grasp of how virulent and deep-seated was the disease that confronted him. Quintin Kennedy had put it graphically in 1558, two years before the Reformation:
If a benefice is vacant, the great men of the realm will have it … and if they have a brother or son … nourished in vice all his days he shall at once be mounted on a mule with a sidegown and a round bonnet, and then it is a question whether he or his mule knows best to do his office. What wonder is it … the simple people be wicked … the convent and place where God should be daily honored and served goes clean to ruin … the poor simple people, so dearly bought by the blood and death of Christ, miserably perish; the Kirk is slandered; God is dishonoured.
Against such scandal there could be no tempering of the tongue. Ambassador rather than diplomat, Knox spared neither royalty nor prelate and defended his bluntness: “To me it is enough to say that black is not white, and man’s tyranny and foolishness is not God’s perfect ordinance.” He was vilified for making use of worldly allies and for making a girl queen weep. His antecedents and outlook were sneered at: an apostate priest of undistinguished appearances and obscure origin, without a university degree; one with little aesthetic sense and no capacity for compromise.
On the other hand, this was a humble man who took up the task with diffidence, concerned never to go where God had not summoned, and who felt himself called to fight not for fleeting things but for the very truth of his God. It was this very singlemindedness that was and still is held to be most odious. “If I had cast me to please men,” he affirmed, “I had not been the servant of God.” This would have been arrogance in anyone but a man who sought nothing for himself and who was so conscious of his own frailty as to have penned the perceptive rubric that begins, “Be merciful unto me, O Lord, and call not into judgment my manifold sins; and chiefly those whereof the world is not able to accuse me.”
When near the close of 1559 the Protestant cause seemed lost, the reformer in a memorable sermon exhorted his colleagues to “turn to the Eternal our God (who beats down to death, to the intent that he may raise up to the praise of his own name), which if we do unfeignedly … our dolour, confusion, and fear shall be turned into joy, honour, and boldness.” So it happened, and not the least of Knox’s achievements is that the Reformation in Scotland was accomplished without the prolonged and terrible civil war known to other countries. Although there had been many Protestant martyrs we know of only two (and it may be only one) who later died for their adherence to Rome.
Knox’s detractors tend to forget how farsighted the reformer was. He saw in education an important step toward the creation of a “godly commonwealth” and the implementing of the ideas of the Protestant Reformation, not only because the young are most susceptible to learning but because his theology demanded literacy so that the Word of God might be read. Education, religion, and morality were inseparably bound up together. Knox wanted a school in every parish, and offered a comprehensive system of education based on aptitude and independent of a child’s social status or the wealth of his parents. School and university education was to be free to the poor. Those not capable of benefiting from academic education were to be trained in manual work.
Such proposals, found in the 1561 First Book of Discipline compiled by Knox and his colleagues, were centuries ahead of their time. Some indeed have still to be achieved. But many were incorporated into the religious system of Scotland: church representatives, for example, still sit on county and city education committees, religious education is still part of the school syllabus, and the four Church of Scotland seminaries are also the faculties of divinity in their ancient universities.
Knox also broke down ecclesiastical barriers to give the laity greater opportunities for service. Every congregation was to meet weekly for the reading and exposition of the Bible, “at which time it is lawful for every man to speak or enquire as God shall move his heart.” As early as 1564, a layman, John Erskine of Dun, was appointed moderator of the General Assembly, a position he occupied at least four, possibly five, times. Today in all the courts of presbyterianism there are equal numbers of clergy and laity.
Today the memory of John Knox is honored more in the Free Church of Scotland than in the national establishment, which is for the most part out of sympathy with Reformation doctrine and principles (a fact seen also in recent steps to demote the Westminster Confession of Faith). It may be that this in itself suggests the continuing relevance of one of Knox’s dying prayers: “Lord, grant true pastors to thy Kirk.”
Music For God’S Glory
The German composer Heinrich Schütz is a relatively unknown musical figure for most English-speaking people. Yet on the 300th anniversary of his death—on November 6, 1672, at the age of eighty-seven—his life and work are being commemorated the world over (see September 29 issue, page 45). Living in an age of spiritual and cultural richness, yet also of violent social upheaval, Schütz made music to the glory of God out of genius and personal suffering.
As a young man he went to study in Venice. There under the guidance of Giovanni Gabrieli he absorbed the sumptuous sound of the late Renaissance Venetian polychoral style. The full extent to which he imbibed this heady atmosphere, with its powerful element of expressiveness, is revealed in his Psalms of David (1619), dedicated to Johann Georg I, elector of Saxony, whose Kappellmeister he was by this time. The richness of tonal color, harmony, and rhythm of these compositions reflects the deep emotion and vivid imagery of the Psalms themselves. For example, Schütz’s interpretation of Psalm 136 with its great refrain, “His goodness endures forever,” invites the hearer to enter wholeheartedly into this great song of praise. Probably Schütz’s most famous work is The Seven Last Words (?1645), an oratorio type of composition. Once again, the music reflects his deeply held personal devotion and piety.
Of central significance in the music of Schütz is his total reverence for the Scriptures. This reverence is the living spark with which he illumines the expressive nuances in the text. Scripture is the foundation and informing factor for practically all his music. Indeed, his penetration of the text forms a kind of musical exegesis, an inspiring commentary on it. Not again till Bach is the Word of God so organically united with tone or so informed with insight on a multiplicity of levels.
May the commemoration of the 300th anniversary of this great man’s death be an occasion for renewed interest in the performance and appreciation of his music.
Preus Versus Tietjen?
The theological battle currently raging in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod places at stake the future of Concordia Seminary in St. Louis. But people on both sides of the controversy who understand it well agree that an even more important matter than the survival of an institution is being debated. From the perspective of the theological conservative, the very grave issue is whether this great communion will countenance a less-than-orthodox view of Scripture.
In a broader context, one might also ask, as James Adams did in a perceptive analysis in the Cincinnati Post: Does a group of believers have the right to collect around a creed and then pay people to teach it?
Some well-intentioned moderates are trying to pour oil on the troubled waters through an election campaign. They reason that if at next summer’s convention a more flexible leader can unseat the determined Synod president, Dr. J. A. O. Preus, harmony will ensue. We fail to see, however, how this will correct the situation at Concordia, where in recent years a dramatic shift has taken place in how the Bible is taught.
Hard as it may be, this dispute deserves to be settled on firmer ground than inclusivism, which is what the solution would be if a fence-straddler were elected. Inasmuch as Concordia president John Tietjen, a Union Seminary graduate, contends that the Preus forces are doctrinal deviates, why not select him as the opposition candidate? Then the delegates would have a clear choice between two incompatible viewpoints.
Russia And Rhodesia
Communists may despise the capitalistic money economy, but anyone who has ever tried to travel in the U. S. S. R. or to engage in any financial transactions with a Soviet-bloc trade partner knows that Communists love capitalistic hard currency and will resort to almost any expedients to acquire it. Thus the astronomical exit tax on departing Jews.
The American Jewish Congress has recently been lobbying—so far with little effect—to get the United States to refuse preferential trade status and generous credit terms to the U. S. S. R. as long as that nation continues its policy of in effect demanding ransom money for Jewish citizens permitted to emigrate. Since the World Council of Churches and the National Council of Churches have supported economic sanctions against South Africa and especially Rhodesia because of racial discrimination practiced in those lands, it would be logical for the AJC to ask them to do likewise in the case of the U. S. S. R., which is not merely harassing but commercially exploiting its Jewish religious and ethnic minority. The AJC would do well to present a formal request to the two ecumenical organizations, so that their responses could become a matter of public record.
‘When Parochial Schools Close’
One of the most heated topics in current debate is whether public funds (in whatever form: grants, tax-credits, or others) should be used to keep non-public schools alive. Only about 10 per cent of all elementary and secondary students attend non-public schools. Moreover, despite considerable growth in Protestant and secular private school attendance in recent years, still four out of five non-public school students are in Roman Catholic schools.
We have previously argued that for a religious school to accept public funds invites public control, which erodes the distinctively religious character of the school (see editorial, May 12 issue, page 27). Often the argument is pressed that non-public schools save the taxpayers money, because if these schools were to close, the “dumping” of students into the public systems would overwhelm them and escalate taxes. Now a book has appeared that presents the results of research to see whether this is so: When Parochial Schools Close (Robert B. Luce [750 Third Ave., New York, N.Y. 10017], 313 pp., $7.50), by Martin Larson. The author reports on his research in sixteen cities whose substantial Catholic school enrollments have been eliminated or drastically reduced. Among them are Milwaukee, Detroit, St. Paul, Dubuque, Iowa, Boise, Idaho, and Bakersfield, California. In this section of the book Larson does not speculate on “what might happen if …” but rather tells us “what did happen when.…” He shows that thanks to the declining birth rate the public schools and the taxpayers were well able to absorb the former parochial school students.
There may be valid arguments for public funds for private schools, but the argument of expediency that unless they are kept alive the public schools will be swamped is not acceptable.
Selective Indignation
The perceptive British author Sir Arnold Lunn speaks of “selective indignation,” the phenomenon that gives worldwide publicity to the “political” trial (on murder and kidnapping charges) of a Communist enthusiast in California but passes over with scant notice the much more clearly political trials of non-conformist Communists in Czechoslovakia. We all know that the shooting of one Irishman by a British soldier is much bigger news than the slaughter of ten thousand Hutu tribesmen in Burundi by their Tutsi rulers. Jacques Ellul distinguishes between the “interesting poor”—those whose cause can be used to embarrass the democratic and capitalistic nations of the West—and the “uninteresting poor,” whose sufferings are of concern only to themselves.
Just imagine that the Greek government (often referred to by adversaries as “the colonels”) had tried to destroy all the manuscripts of the anti-government composer Theodorakis as he was leaving the country. What an outcry there would have been—and with good reason! The colonels didn’t try. However, after the Soviet Christian painter Yuri Titov was “expelled” in June, he discovered that all the paintings he had been allowed to take with him had been drenched with sulfuric acid between the time he presented them for customs inspection at a Moscow airport and their delivery in Rome. Sixty-two paintings, a major part of his life’s work, damaged or destroyed. Did you know about it? Poor Titov—his case just isn’t very interesting. Or is it?
Geoffrey Francis Fisher
When Geoffrey Francis Fisher, middle-aged schoolmaster, was appointed bishop of Chester, a local clergyman lamented publicly, “We prayed about this beforehand, and this is what we have got.” Having confounded and won over the gloomy at Chester, and seen the diocese of London through the war years (he once housed in his palace 300 people made homeless by German bombs), he took on his most difficult assignment in 1945 when he became primate on the premature death of William Temple, a post he held until his retirement in 1961. As Lord Fisher of Lambeth he died last month at the age of eighty-five.
Assessments of him have differed. After the war, it was said, the Church of England needed “a fisher of men,” but Fisher was not that man. He disappointed many by concentrating on canon-law revision and church administration. Yet many an ordinary minister testified to his percipience and compassion in moments of personal crisis or bereavement; one evangelical ordinand whose doctrine was unacceptable to his own bishop was ordained privately by the primate. He was not afraid of controversy: he wanted to retain capital punishment for certain offenses, defended the atom bomb as our “lifesaver and deterrent,” was a strong opponent of divorce, and told a bishop in Convocation that if he (Fisher) had held certain heretical views attributed to the bishop he would have felt compelled to resign his see.
While an early sponsor of the World Council of Churches, Fisher was against organic unity, and his opposition in retirement to the now rejected Anglican-Methodist scheme greatly embarrassed the hierarchy. He made ecumenical history with a famous trip that included Jerusalem, Constantinople, and Rome. Asked on his return what was his most striking memory, he replied thoughtfully: “Of a camel that looked at me with most ineffable scorn.” This knack of putting things in proper proportion had been seen already on his seventieth birthday. However unpleasant the process of dying might be, Fisher reflected, the experiences that awaited the Christian soul was, above all, exciting and invigorating: “entry into more aboundant life, advance into fresh understandings of God’s love and truth, and companionship with our fellows in the Kingdom.” Anglo-Catholic and evangelical combined to combat him on occasion, but that remark had something meaningful to say to both.
‘A Day Of National Humiliation’
What we miss and have missed for decades in the presidents of the United States and the leaders of other nations is the kind of spiritual insight that characterized Abraham Lincoln a century ago. Amid the dark days of 1863 Lincoln issued a proclamation that described the conditions of American life and proclaimed a remedy. The document speaks for itself:
Whereas, The Senate of the United States, devoutly recognizing the Supreme Authority and Just Government of men and of nations, has, by a resolution, requested the President to designate and set apart a day for National prayer and humiliation:
And Whereas, It is the duty of nations, as well as of men, to owe their dependence upon the overruling power of God, to confess their sins and transgressions, in humble sorrow, yet repentance will lead to mercy and pardon, and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations only are blessed whose God is the Lord:
And, Inasmuch as we know that, by His divine law, nations, like individuals, are subjected to punishments and chastisements in this world, may we not justly fear that the awful calamity of civil war, which now desolates the land, may be but a punishment inflicted upon us for our presumptuous sins, to the needful end of our national reformation as a whole People? We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of Heaven. We have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth, and power as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace, and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us: And we have vainly imagined in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us!
It behooves us, then, to humble ourselves before the offended Power, to confess our national sins, and to pray for clemency and forgiveness.
Now, therefore, in compliance with the request, and fully concurring in the views of the Senate, I do, by this my proclamation, designate and set apart THURSDAY, the 30th day of this month [March], as a day of National Humiliation, Fasting and Prayer. And I do hereby request all the People to abstain on that day from their ordinary secular pursuits, and to unite, at their several places of worship public and their respective homes, in keeping the day holy to the Lord, and devoted to the humble discharge of the religious duties proper to that solemn occasion.
All this being done, in sincerity and truth, let us then rest humbly in the hope, authorized by the Divine teachings, that the united cry of the Nation will be heard on high, and answered with blessings, no less than the pardon of our national sins, and restoration of our now divided and suffering country to its former happy condition of unity and peace.
In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand, and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.
By his excellency
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
