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THE GENUINENESS AND GENTLENESS OF THOMAS CRANMER
(The noble army of martyrs : praise thee. The Te Deum Laudamus)
By Roger Salter
Special to Virtueonline
www.virtueonline.org
March 24, 2014
No major English leader of the Reformation era has been more seriously misjudged than Thomas Cranmer. The Protestant martyrs of his generation have been admired, deservedly, for their courage. Latimer has been lauded for his fearless preaching, Ridley for his wisdom and measured theological pronouncements, Bradford for his bold doctrinal stance and benign nature, and Jewel for his masterly defense of the Reformed Catholicism of the Church in England. Cranmer is appreciated by liturgiologists and lovers of the traditional 16th/17th century services of the Book of Common Prayer. Scarcely anyone is familiar with the person of Cranmer, his integrity as a servant of the divine appointment of the monarchy, as he believed, his skills as a careful scholar cautious in arriving at sound conclusions, his thoroughness as a theologian with profoundly pastoral motives, and his tenderness as a true child of God. The mind of Cranmer conceived the mental and spiritual architecture of authentic Anglicanism and the mildness of his temperament determined the mature mien of Anglican character. He fashioned both the essence and ethos of Anglicanism as an instrument in the hand of God for the blessing of his nation.
Yet for several centuries the value, valor, and virtue of this great man of faith and genius were underestimated and sorely neglected in the establishment of which he was the chief architect. His legacy sustained the Anglican church in every and in any semblance of Scriptural orthodoxy but the man himself was left behind to walk in the shadow of Richard Hooker who became identified as the prime mover in the shaping of Anglican piety and practice. Indeed in some significant circles of ecclesiastical life Cranmer was, and still is, regarded with contempt. Recent academic literature, however, has restored the reputation of England’s worthiest Reformer. The re-assessment of our first Protestant Archbishop of Canterbury has revealed a man of remarkable stature that places him in the company of his celebrated Continental colleagues in the cause of Christian truth. Indeed the leaders of the English Reformation were not mere imitators of the German and the Swiss but true “originals” and heirs of a burgeoning disagreement and breach with Rome since the rise of Wycliffe. Developments within England were preparing for the phenomenon of religious renewal, and providence hastened the pace through the problems encountered in the domestic affairs of Henry and his quest for a male heir through suitable female vessels.
Vocal in support of the king’s “great cause” Cranmer was catapulted to prominence, and the gradual progress towards the role of theological and liturgical guide to the nation began. Cranmer weighed every controverted issue of the time with patience and prolonged pondering. Hastiness was not his style and it served his church well. Scripture, the Fathers, and fellow Reformers were studied with intense concentration. His mind had to fully satisfied before he would commend his conclusions to his peers and the worshipping populace. Through Cranmer the message of divine salvation was mediated to the people high and low, and the Bible and the ancient devotions it inspired became the vehicle of worship for his countrymen. As is often noted from his most famous portrait in the National Gallery in London, Scripture and Augustine constitute the foundation of Anglicanism that remains true to its historical roots.
Cranmer’s theology of human depravity, helplessness, liability to doom, rescue through Christ, justification by faith alone, and the election of grace, are encouragingly, delightfully strong and invigorating to the shame of our contemporary wimpishness and woolliness. No one, not bold enough to hold and preach the doctrines of Cranmer, has any right to cite the alleged cravenness of his recantation. His age as a prisoner in the Bocardo, the ill-treatment, and the psychological torment he had to endure, would weaken the best of us. His strength comes through in the convictions he championed, even before the king in his critique of Henry’s views, and in his liturgical legacy. His failure was not final and his last moments triumphant as he delivered Christ’s truth to his persecutors, denounced their errors, and embraced the flames through which he made his flight to glory.
Cranmer’s gentleness is fabled, his disposition to forgiveness extraordinary in a dangerous epoch when his own security was by no means sure (Thomas Cranmer’s Doctrine of Repentance, Ashley Null pages 19ff & 132). In this indispensable work Cranmer is quoted thus: What will ye have a man do to hym that ys not yet come to the knowledge of the truth of the gospell, nor peradventure as yet callid, and whose vocation is to me uncerteyne? Shall we perhapps, in his jorney comyng towards us, by severitie and cruell behaviour overthrowe hym, and as it were in his viage stoppe hym? I take not this wey to allyeure men to embrace the doctrine of the gospell. And if it be a true rule of our Saviour Christe to do good for evill, then lette suche as are not yet come to favour our religion lerne to folowe the doctrine of the gospell by our example in using them frendlie and charitablie.
This genuineness in faith and gentleness in demeanor is replicated in so many early Anglican worthies such as Parker, Bradford, Jewel, Hooker, and Ussher (to name a few) - men stalwart in Reformation doctrine and renowned for courtesy and kindness. The influence of Cranmer attracts and moulds leaders of a similar inclination, contemporaries and successors, and such as those he summoned as his aides from the continent, Peter Martyr and Martin Bucer, men of great learning and merciful and humble leaning. When a man’s whole being is invested in his God-given vocation he cannot help but leave his imprint upon the tradition he so passionately fostered. Its almost as if something of Cranmer’s personality has been breathed permanently into his religious bequest to English speaking believers.
The English novelist Eric Malpass, better known in Europe than the United Kingdom, produced a biographical novel of Thomas Cranmer entitled Of Human Frailty (House of Stratus, London, 1987 & 2001). The book is introduced in this way:
Thomas Cranmer is a gentle, unassuming scholar when a chance meeting sweeps him away from the security and tranquility of Cambridge for the harsh magnificence of Henry VIII’s court. As a supporter of Henry he soon rises to prominence as Archbishop of Canterbury. Eric Malpass paints a fascinating picture of Reformation England and its prominent figures: the brilliant, charismatic but utterly ruthless Henry VIII, the exquisite but scheming Anne Boleyn, and the fanatical Mary Tudor. But it is the paradoxical Thomas Cranmer who dominates the story. A tormented man, he is torn between valour and cowardice: a man with a loving heart who finds himself hated by so many; and a man of God who makes the terrifying discovery that he must suffer and die for his beliefs. Thomas Cranmer is a man of simple virtue, whose only fault is his all too human frailty.
And the prologue concludes:
He woke and dragged himself on to his knees. He gazed up towards heaven, tugging his fingers through his dirty beard. He was not praying. He was experiencing a miracle. He felt strength flowing into his limbs; and knew, wonderfully, that he was not afraid. After the years of weakness and vacillation he was strong again. The fire would pass. And beyond the fire, dimming it to a sulky glare, would be the effulgence of the Throne, and the voice of the Most High: “Well done, Thomas, thou good and faithful servant.” If only, that is, he could remain strong, renounce all his written recantations. He held out his right hand and stared at it in the darkness for along time. ‘Judas!’ he whispered, with fond reproach. Then he wrapped it in his habit, holding it tenderly against his breast. And lay down, and slept again.
And then, it was morning . . .
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