The Prayer Book Rebellion of 1549

And Why We Need History As Well As Prayers

I’ve just come back from the Chalke Valley History Festival and I loved it. We were there as a family as part of a day for schools. Currently, we are a school. I saw copies of bows and arrows dredged up from the Mary Rose, and learned about how medieval warfare was fought.

I also heard a fascinating talk on the Prayer Book Rebellion of 1549, which began with Cornishmen who were unhappy with a new English prayer book being imposed. They were Cornish. They didn’t speak English. Mind you, they didn’t speak Latin either, but as far as they were concerned, if the Latin Mass had been good enough for their ancestors, it was good enough for them. They paid for this conviction with their lives.

Who cares? Why be interested in history? As far as I’m concerned, an interest in history requires no justification. I find any indifference to our past and a lack of interest in our ancestors to be a bizarre aberration for our modern Western culture. If history teaches us anything, it’s that historically, people are interested in history.

Indifference to past generations rather implies indifference to future ones. After all, why care about anyone you’ve never met or will never meet? Anyone even slightly motivated by the idea of conservation, building institutions or changing society for the better should have an eye to generations other than their own.

The Generation Frame

This is the idea at the heart of Conservatism, according to Burke. Society is a contract “between those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born.” These words were written in Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790), a year after the storming of the Bastille. France was about to attempt to wipe away its history, culture and religion, scrapping the monarchy and eradicating the very concept of Christianity. Any society that unhitches itself from its past is in serious danger of doing similarly radical things.

But we can also learn from our ancestors. They did everything for a reason, and we live with that legacy. We would do well to note why they did what they did. At this point, Chesterton’s Fence is often brought up. It is a concept derived from these words from The Thing: Why I am a Catholic. Chesterton writes:

“In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; … There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, "I don't see the use of this; let us clear it away." To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: "If you don't see the use of it, I certainly won't let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.”

Tear it All Down

Tearing down the current structures might seem like a good idea, but what will arise in their place? Something better? It’s hard to imagine the unintended consequences of removing a fence if you don’t go back and figure out why someone went to the bother of erecting it.

Revolutionaries tend to be happy with ripping things up, burning things down and starting again. In fact, they might argue that nothing can change until existing structures are torn down and trampled into the dust. Only then can a new world rise from the ashes. But they often regret their radical fervour, which often consumes them. I think we’re seeing that in our current culture wars. Those who considered themselves on the Left (and the Right) were happy to abandon a conservative approach to human sexuality, but are now very uncomfortable with what Pride month currently looks like.

Superiority Syndrome

The school history syllabus also has a part to play here. If one teaches history that sees British medieval history as a time of oppressive religious conformity, one might assume that it was all about power and not genuine belief. We won’t understand either power or religious belief, let alone the medieval period.

Moreover, teach the Victorian era as one where the only real story is colonialism, we might start to assume that this current generation is far superior to our ancestors morally, socially and spiritually.

This approach may encourage our children to be angry about the past because the sins of our forefathers have tainted everything around us. In one sense, that is true. The present is contaminated by the sins of past generations. We live with their legacy. But the present is also blessed with their ingenuity, curiosity and defence of values that we hold dear. And this problem of living with the past is not new. Look at how Henry VIII attempted to airbrush the legacy and cult of St Thomas Becket from the culture, because he represented an old way that bowed to the power of the Pope in Rome.

History, done rightly, takes us outside of ourselves. It helps to listen, understand and reflect. It’s good for us to understand why those rebels in 1549 were prepared to die for the old Latin Prayer Book, especially as some of us head off to the General Synod in York next week where there are bitter disputes about our current Book of Common Prayer. Knowing our history can at least make us grateful to God that our opposition to certain prayers, even optional ones, are unlikely to end like the Prayer Book Rebellion of 1549.

If you want history with jokes and songs, (and given the huge success of Horrible Histories, who doesn’t?), why not get A Monk’s Tale on Mp3 celebrating and explaining Luther’s 95 Theses? And get The God Particle and Water into Wine while your there. It all supports this substack.

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Parachurch Or Parasite?

On the Cooper and Cary podcast, James and Barry have words about parachurch ministries. It's hard to find a popular Christian teacher who doesn't have his or her own parachurch ministry. Then there are campus ministries, youth ministries, evangelism ministries, mercy ministries. Are they God's gift to the church, coming alongside the local church to help them fulfil their mission? Or do they actually keep the church from being what it's supposed to be? This could get awkward, given that Cooper has spent half his life working for parachurch organisations...