5 “Not I, But Christ” Theologically: Sola Fide in Cranmer’s Liturgical Terminology
WE SAW HOW the grammar of sola fide would function for Cranmer like a pair of scissors, taking existing liturgies, cutting them into sections, and rearranging those pieces or throwing away whole sections altogether. This is how justification works on the level of liturgical structure, filtering out not-gospels that the true gospel might shine forth. When it comes to liturgical content, therefore, we could say that sola fide functions more like a scalpel, making precision edits, right down to the word, sometimes down to a few letters. Many have observed that Cranmer’s “liturgical surgery” revealed a virtuosic creativity less of the ex nihilo type and far more of the kind which took the preexisting works of others, cut them up, and stitched them together anew in a surprisingly functional, fluid, and moving manner. And as we move on from structure (the 
The Archbishop’s method of redaction of the liturgy’s words is perhaps nowhere more clearly and concisely illustrated than in his preface to the Book of Common Prayer. In a sense, his entire enterprise is disclosed in his opening sentence, both in what it says and what it references. Cranmer bursts out of the liturgical gate: “There was never any thing by the wit of man so well devised, or so surely established, which (in continuance of time) hath not been corrupted: as (among other things) it may plainly appear by the common prayers in the Church.” Sixteenth-century clerics and scholars attuned to contemporaneous liturgical revisions taking place in the Roman Catholic Church on the Continent may very well have recognized this sentence of Cranmer’s as not original to him. It is lifted (with a significant surgical cut-and-stitch) from the opening lines of the 1536 preface of a Breviary revision made by the Spanish Cardinal Francisco de Quiñones. The Quignon Breviary, as it is called, reads, “There was never anything by the wit of man so well devised which could not later be rendered more perfect by the added insight of many.” Comparing Cranmer with Quiñones summarizes, in essence, the difference between the theological outlook of Rome and that of the Reformers. Instead of a preface which highlights the “perfectability” of humanity, Cranmer offers exactly the opposite sentiment, which is telling of his commitment to sola fide and resulting liturgical agenda. What is foregrounded right at the beginning is the depravity of humanity and (therefore) the necessity of a grace that is found by faith alone in Christ alone. We could say that the way Cranmer edited Quiñones’s preface would be the way he would go about redacting all liturgical content—saying no to the “I,” and yes to Christ.
THEOLOGICAL LANGUAGE AND THE GRAMMAR
OF SOLA FIDE
We observe first, broadly, that the Reformers were concerned about words and how their usage and context impacted people pastorally. We hear in their arguments the kind of thinking which showed how the grammar of sola fide would become a theological governor for language. We read this, for instance, in Luther’s lectures on Romans when we see sola fide governing how he chooses to translate άφωρισμένος εἰς εὐαγγέλιον θεοῦ (“set apart for the gospel of God”) in the first verse of Paul’s epistle. Sola fide would govern vocabulary to such an extent that Luther would feel compelled to argue that άφωρισμένος must not be translated “sanctified,” but “separated” or “set apart.” Luther’s reasoning: “It is more unpretentious and more modest to call himself ‘separated’ rather than ‘sanctified,’ lest he speak boastfully of himself.” Behind this for Luther is more than Paul’s sinful pretention, for Paul would use the concept of boasting elsewhere to draw the very kinds of distinctions that sola fide makes (1 Cor 1:26-31). Sola fide grammatically excludes boasting precisely because faith alone is that which trusts wholly in the work of Christ. Sola fide therefore dismisses “sanctified” as a word choice, lest some misunderstandings creep in of what sanctified could mean (i.e., more holy, more morally pure).
Cranmer would share this meticulous concern for wording. We have already cited above the Archbishop’s pushback against Henry’s desire to add “chiefly” and “only” in order to temper (and ultimately dismantle) the radically disjunctive nature of sola fide. Elsewhere in his annotations to Henry’s corrections of the Bishops’ book, Cranmer spends lengthy passages setting up the argument for why he would desire to eliminate the conditional phrases and language inserted by Henry. For several paragraphs, the Archbishop asserts the theological outlook of Paul and James, where Cranmer and Henry can agree—true faith inevitably produces good works:
If the profession of our faith of the remission of our own sins enter within us into the deepness of our hearts; then it must needs kindle a warm fire of love in our hearts towards God, and towards all other for the love of God—a fervent mind to seek and procure God’s honour, will, and pleasure in all things . . . in summa, a firm intent and purpose to do all that is good, and leave all that is evil.
But Cranmer would reason that if faith alone does this,
In my judgment it shall not be necessary to interline or insert in many places, where we protest our pure Christian faith, these words or sentence, that be newly added, namely, “I being in will to follow God’s precepts;” “I rejecting in my will and heart the Devil and his works;” “I willing to return to God;” “If I continue not in sin;” “If I continue a Christian life;” “If I follow Christ’s precepts;” “We living well;” “If we order and conform our wills in this world to his precepts;” “If we join our wills to his godly motions;” and other such like sentences and clauses conditional, which to the right faith need not be added: for without these conditions is no right faith.
What Cranmer is saying is that the use of conditional clauses to surround statements of faith and the gospel is unnecessary. Underneath this concern is the Archbishop’s greater burden that conditional statements like these actually serve to muddy the waters of sola fide, reintroducing the commingling of faith and works that justification has set out to distinguish. Cranmer was therefore arguing that it is precisely the unconditioned gospel of grace which has the power to change us within “the deepness of our hearts” and produce the good works that the conditionality demands. This line of argumentation, down to the concern for words and phrases, will be (implicitly) employed time and again as Cranmer translates and redacts the received liturgies and forms them into the gospel-proclamation that is the 1552 Book of Common Prayer. Sometimes, the grammar of sola fide necessitates the subtraction of words and phrases—other times, addition. Yet other times, whole prayers and liturgical sections need to be demolished and built from the ground up. We will observe all these techniques employed by Cranmer.
SOLA FIDE IN THE COLLECTS
Cranmer’s Collects are perhaps the most overt place where this kind of theological distinction happens on the level of terminology. That the Collects of Western Christianity were in need of theological revision was felt by other Reformers. Luther, for instance, urged that the Collects (along with the Antiphons and Responsories) be shelved “until they have been purged, for there is a horrible lot of filth in them.” Interestingly enough, many of the most ancient Collects, in their original form, seem to operate along the grammar of sola fide. This may very well be due to the fact that not a small amount of them were forged in the controversies of the Pelagian heresy, where it became important for the church to clarify the gospel by insisting on humanity’s helplessness apart from the work of God. The so-called Gelasian Sacramentary, named after the fifth-century bishop of Rome, Gelasius, contains some of the early Collects that appear to have been composed in the wake of Augustine’s anti-Pelagian debates, as they echo the Bishop of Hippo’s sharp faith-works distinction. Even so, good as they were, Cranmer “took no chances” in those Gelasian Collects when it came, for instance, to the translation of the word mereamur, “to merit” (see 
GELASIAN SACRAMENTARY
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
Almighty and everlasting God,
Almighty and everlasting God,
which of thy tender love toward man,
hast sent
our Saviour Jesus Christ
took upon him our flesh
and suffered death upon the cross,
that all mankind should follow the example
of his humility,
grant that we may
both follow the example of his patience,
and also may merit (mereamur) the partaking
our Saviour Jesus Christ,
to take upon him our flesh,
and to suffer death upon the cross,
that all mankind should follow the example
of his great humility:
mercifully grant, that we
both follow the example of his patience,
and
be made partakers
of his resurrection;
through the same Lord.
of his resurrection;
through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.
Figure 5.1. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for the Sunday next before Easter
For the Reformers, mereamur was perhaps “the most offensive word in the Roman doctrine of grace,” prompting a move that Cranmer would make time and again throughout his liturgy—a move that captures the heart of sola fide: human merit is excised, and in its place is put the work of God. Cranmer uses the passive voice often in these theological shifts: we are “made partakers.” When faith is alone we are not agents in our salvation but recipients of divine agency. In the most classic example, merit is simply excised. Here is the Collect for Purity (
SARUM MISSAL
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
God, unto whom every heart is open,
and all desires known,
and from whom no secrets are hid:
cleanse the thoughts of our hearts,
by the infusion of thy Holy Spirit:
that we may perfectly love thee,
and, meritoriously (mereamur), worthily magnify thee . . .
Almighty God, unto whom all hearts be open,
and all desires known,
and from whom no secrets are hid:
cleanse the thoughts of our hearts,
by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit:
that we may perfectly love thee,
and worthily magnify
thy holy name . . .
Figure 5.2. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for Purity
Additionally, we might notice that Cranmer transposes infusionem into the key of sola fide by translating it as “inspiration,” in order to avoid the medieval notion of merit based on “infused grace.” Another instance of the excision of mereamur is in his Collect for the fourteenth Sunday after Trinity (see
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
Almighty and everlasting God,
give unto us the increase of faith, hope, and charity,
and that we may merit (mereamur)
Almighty and everlasting God,
give unto us the increase of faith, hope, and charity:
and, that we may obtain
that which thou dost promise:
make us to love that which thou dost command.
that which thou dost promise,
make us to love that which thou dost command.
Figure 5.3. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for the fourteenth Sunday after Trinity
Paralleling what we observed in the
GELASIAN SACRAMENTARY
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
Almighty and merciful God,
of whose gift it cometh,
that thy faithful people do unto thee
true and laudable service:
grant we beseech thee,
that we may, without offense,
run to thy promises,
Almighty and merciful God,
of whose only gift it cometh,
that thy faithful people do unto thee
true and laudable service:
grant, we beseech thee,
that we may
so run to thy heavenly promises,
that we fail not finally to attain the same:
Through our Lord.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Figure 5.4. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for the thirteenth Sunday after Trinity
Cranmer seems aware that the lack of “only” could leave the door open to medieval understandings of grace joined with our works. “Only” does the work of sola fide, categorically distinguishing grace as a total gift. Cranmer shows how a single word carries a freight of theological import. Notice, too, that “without offense” is removed. Perhaps the Archbishop desires to make clear that even as we offend God, “even while we were yet sinners” (Rom 5:8), we still flee to his promises.
The Second Collect for Evensong provides another important look into Cranmer’s process, as it went through several English translations before Cranmer got a hold of it. It is telling that Cranmer did not simply parrot those translations (one of which was almost fifteen years old) but opted for redaction according to sola fide (see
REDMAN’S PRIMER, 1535
KING’S PRIMER, 1545
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
O God,
from whom all holy desires,
all good counsels,
and all just works do proceed,
give unto us
the same peace
which the world cannot give
that our hearts
being obedient
to thy commandments
O God,
from whom all holy desires,
all good counsels,
and all just works do proceed,
give unto thy servants
that same peace,
which the world cannot give,
that our hearts
being obedient
to thy commandments,
O God,
from whom all holy desires,
all good counsels,
and all just works do proceed:
give unto thy servants
that peace,
which the world cannot give;
that both our hearts
may be set to obey
thy commandments,
(and fear of our enemies
be taken away)
and the fear of our enemies
taken away,
and also that by thee, we being defended from the fear of our enemies,
our time may be peaceable
through thy protection.
By Christ our Lord. Amen.
our time may be peaceable
by thy protection.
Through Christ our Lord, Amen.
may pass our time in rest and quietness:
through the merits of Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.
Figure 5.5. Cranmer’s translation of the second Collect for Evensong
Here we notice the King’s Primer adding “thy servants,” which comes as no surprise considering Henry’s desire, above all, that England be filled with loyal subjects (therefore, the rise of the language of servitude is very much a part of the Henrician agenda across the board). But once we move on to Cranmer’s Collect, we see again the negation of our own obedience (“not I”), switching activity through the divine passive voice (“but Christ”). And it appears that because the Collect could be read as our obedience leading to the fear of our enemies being taken away, Cranmer makes doubly clear that it is done “by thee,” and with yet another divine passive, “being defended.” And, as Cranmer does elsewhere, he makes explicit what about Jesus all this power is “through”: it is by his “merits.”
Similarly, Cranmer is found in several places excising language from the propit- word-group so as to avoid any idea of the mass as a propitiatory sacrifice. In one instance, he replaces it with a term loaded with significance when it comes to the clarity of sola fide in his context. Consider his work on the Collect for the fourth Sunday in Advent (see
GELASIAN SACRAMENTARY
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
Lord raise up, we pray thee, thy power,
and come, and with great might succor us,
Lord raise up (we pray thee) thy power,
and come among us, and with great might succor us,
that whereas through our sins
that whereas through our sins and wickedness
we are hindered,
thy bountiful grace,
by your propitiation (propitiationis)
we be sore let and hindered,
thy bountiful grace and mercy,
through the satisfaction of thy Son our Lord,
may speedily deliver us.
may speedily deliver us.
Figure 5.6. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for the fourth Sunday in Advent
In addition to three expansions of “Erasmian doublets,” Cranmer’s big change is to make “tue propitiationis” even more overt with a word carrying heavy freight: “satisfaction.” Ashley Null explains the significance of this word for medieval Christian piety:
An act of mortal sin incurred a liability for both eternal damnation (culpa) and temporal punishment (poena), with contrition remitting the former and satisfactions the latter. In Scotist teaching, however, divine pardon merely commuted culpa to poena, since God had ordained that sin must be punished, either by himself on the day of judgement or by the viator. Therefore, after a penitent had been loosed from his debt of eternal punishment through the infusion of grace, he still remained bound to work off his debt of temporal punishment through the penance [i.e., satisfactions] which his confessor had assigned him.
That Cranmer here attributes “satisfaction” to the work of Christ is yet another instance of a stark “not I, but Christ” distinction, drawing lines that were blurred in his day and age. Cranmer uses the prayer to retell the doctrine of satisfaction through the grammar of sola fide.
Here is another prayer where Cranmer’s redaction is found negating the “I” (see
GREGORIAN SACRAMENTARY
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
Lord we beseech Thee,
receive the prayers
of thy holy, heavenly people
who follow thee:
and grant that they perceive
what things they ought to do,
and also have power
faithfully to fulfill the same.
Lord we beseech Thee,
mercifully to receive the prayers
of thy people
which call upon thee:
and grant that they may both perceive and know what things they ought to do,
and also have grace and power
faithfully to fulfill the same.
Figure 5.7. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for the first Sunday after Epiphany
Holy and heavenly? “Not I,” says Cranmer. Do I follow God wholeheartedly? “Not I,” says Cranmer, “but I certainly call upon God.” And if we are to do what we “ought to do,” we must not only have power. We must also have “grace.” Take note, as well, that “call upon” is a phrase that pervaded the Psalms in Cranmer’s English Bible, used specifically in contexts of utter helplessness and dependence, sometimes of repentance. No doubt this word choice carries those strong connotations of the grammar of sola fide. What does a person with nothing do? They “call upon” the Lord.
In the third Collect for Evensong (also known as the Inlumina Prayer), we find the grammar of sola fide in this instance not only subtracting and replacing, but adding. The work of Christ is made more explicit (see
GELASIAN / GREGORIAN SACRAMENTARIES
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
Illumine, we beg you, Lord, our darkness
and kindly
drive away all the snares of the night:
Lighten our darkness we beseech thee, O Lord;
by thy great mercy
defend us from all perils and dangers of this night;
through Jesus Christ.
for the love of thy only Son,
our Savior Jesus Christ.
Figure 5.8. Cranmer’s translation of the Inlumina Prayer
In yet other instances, the grammar of sola fide demanded the abandonment of whole sections of prayers, as in the Collect for the twelfth Sunday after Trinity (see
GELASIAN / GREGORIAN SACRAMENTARIES
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
Almighty and everlasting God,
who dost exceed the merits (merita) and prayers
of thy suppliants;
Almighty and everlasting God,
which art always more ready to hear than we to pray; and art wont to give
more than either we desire or deserve:
Pour down upon us thy mercy
Pour down upon us the abundance of thy mercy,
forgiving us those things
whereof our conscience is afraid,
and giving unto us
that that our prayer dare not presume to ask.
forgiving us those things
whereof our conscience is afraid,
and giving unto us
that that our prayer dare not presume to ask.
Figure 5.9. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for the twelfth Sunday after Trinity
And even in other times, Cranmer jettisoned entire prayers, opting for wholesale replacement, not only because of what they said, but because of the tenuous nature of their context in the light of the doctrine of justification. The classic example is the Collect for the first Sunday in Lent, a season in medieval Christianity especially prone to penitential acts of merit on the part of earnest Christians (see
GREGORIAN SACRAMENTARY
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
God, who didst purify thy Church by the yearly observance of Lent, help your family strive toward abstinence, and flawless good works.
O Lord, which for our sake, didst fast forty days and forty nights: Give us grace to use such abstinence, that, our flesh being subdued to the Spirit, we may ever obey thy godly motions in righteousness, and true holiness, to thy honor and glory.
Figure 5.10. Cranmer’s New Collect for the first Sunday in Lent
Apparently, Cranmer felt the need, both for the sake of the prayer and for the sake of the season, to clarify the distinctions made by sola fide on the front end of what could otherwise be a forty-day feast for the Old Adam’s delight in confusing faith and works. Notice the divine passive (“our flesh being subdued”) and that we are not obeying God’s commands but rather obeying the “Godly motions” of the Spirit in us. And, most significantly, notice where Cranmer puts the emphasis of the Lenten fast—not on our fasting (“not I”), but on Jesus’ forty days and forty nights (“but Christ”).
Finally, we can see how in translation Cranmer in some instances traded a less precise English word for a more precise one when it came to making sola fide more clear. Evidently, Cranmer felt that the definition of faith was at stake in how one translated the Latin word spero, typically translated as “hope” in the English. Observe Cranmer’s work in the first Sunday after Trinity (see
GREGORIAN SACRAMENTARY
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
God, the strength of all them that hope in thee,
God, the strength of all them that trust in thee,
mercifully accept our prayers:
And because the weakness of our mortal nature
can do nothing without thee,
mercifully accept our prayers;
And because the weakness of our mortal nature
can do no good thing without thee,
grant us the help of thy grace,
that in keeping of thy commandments,
we may please thee both in will and deed.
grant us the help of thy grace,
that in keeping of thy commandments,
we may please thee both in will and deed.
Figure 5.11. Cranmer’s translation of the Collect for the first Sunday after Trinity
We notice the clarity of translating spero as “trust” instead of “hope.” Hope insinuates possibility, whereas trust is more explicitly believing in the veracity of an external word or promise. Faith as hope might be understood as believing that God’s promises could be true. Faith as trust must be understood as believing that God’s promises are true. In his Homily on Faith Cranmer pairs trust and hope with the former tied to “confidence”: “[Faith] is . . . a sure trust and confidence of the mercy of God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, and a steadfast hope of all good things to be received at God’s hand.” As Devereux observes here, “The Lutheran cast of this definition should be evident. Here, although ‘trust’ and ‘hope’ are paralleled, they are clearly distinguished.” Note additionally in the Collect that Cranmer puts a particularly moral spin on “can do nothing without thee,” highlighting that it is particularly in the doing of righteous deeds that we can claim “no” ground. Sola fide, once again, says no to the not-gospel of works-righteousness. As we can see, the Collects above, along with others, become windows for viewing all the different ways that theological and terminological redaction will take place throughout the Prayer Book—translation, transposition, addition, subtraction, reordering, and more. The Collects, then, serve as a helpful microcosm for the kind of content-redaction taking place throughout the entire liturgy. The following sections will take the kinds of work we have observed in the Collects, categorize them, and observe them in the rest of the liturgy.
SOLA FIDE IN WORDS AND THEIR SUBJECTS AND OBJECTS
Throughout the Prayer Book, we find Cranmer’s method of redaction meticulously consistent in certain instances, especially when it comes to specific words and how they are employed alongside their subjects and objects. In this way, we witness the grammar of sola fide looking most literally like a grammar, theologically determining where words are positioned in the construction of liturgical sentences. Let us closely examine how sola fide informs three terms in the Book of Common Prayer: oblation, sacrifice, and satisfaction.
“Oblation” and “sacrifice” underwent severe scrutiny by Cranmer. We observed above how the grammar of sola fide insisted that, structurally, any self-oblation happens only after receiving the grace of the gospel through the reception of the bread and wine. Likewise, self-sacrifice could only happen in the same position. But both words also needed proper grammatical usage in the liturgy leading up to reception for the distinction of faith and works to be made clear. Cuming observes Cranmer at work:
In the pursuance of his objective of ejecting all offering of the elements, Cranmer almost at once replaces “haec dona, haec munera, haec sancta sacrificia illibata” by “these our prayers.” Since he could not allow any suggestion that the redemption and salvation of men’s souls could be achieved by offering a sacrifice of praise, whatever content was attached to that phrase, . . . he naturally finds the section Memento Domine largely useless, and replaces it by detailed intercession. . . . Again, when God is asked to bless and sanctify the bread and wine, they are not referred to as “this oblation,” but as “these thy gifts and creatures.” Still less, after the Institution Narrative, can the bread and wine be called “a pure, holy, immaculate victim . . . a holy sacrifice;” they are still “these thy gifts,” though now qualified as “holy.” . . . Above all, Cranmer could not offer “the holy bread of eternal life and the cup of everlasting salvation;” these are benefits which God offers to us, not we to him.
What Cuming observes is that in Communion, sola fide governs what subject and object oblation can take. Sola fide tells us that God is always the first subject of offering and oblation, and we are the objects. We do not offer and present to God anything of worth without God first giving himself to us “by his one oblation of himself once offered.” This is furthermore why Cranmer excludes the words “Offertory” and “oblations” before the Intercessions prior to Communion, nor are those financial “offerings” (the language of the rubric) to be placed at or by the table, but simply “into the poor-men’s box.” Because grace is received by faith alone, our oblations must be completely disassociated with the table, to say no to ourselves and yes to Christ’s one oblation of himself once offered.
Tied to the language of Christ as the subject of sacrifice is the emphasis on it being one and once. Cranmer’s concern was that if Christ’s sacrifice were either repeatable or re-presentable, an opportunity for our participation as the subject of the sacrifice could sneak in, making unclear whose sacrifice it was, and therefore blurring the distinction between faith and works insisted upon by sola fide. Cranmer further insisted that said sacrifice was “made there,” on the cross, as opposed to here, at the table. The sacrifice is further punctuated as “full, perfect, sufficient.” The persistent totalizing language, combined with careful parsing of who is the subject of the sacrifice, serves to clarify the gospel, separating it from the not-gospel which combines Christ’s sacrifice with our faithful re-presentation of it. Works must not sneak into our salvation. Though we will not spend much time analyzing Cranmer’s 1550 Ordinal, it is notable for this discussion that it is the medieval understanding of the sacrificial priesthood (in other words, humanity as the subject of sacrifice) that led Cranmer to an “almost total rejection of the wording of medieval rites” in his architecture of the ordination liturgies for the Church of England.
Likewise, as we observed in the Collects, “satisfaction” required proper delineation of subject and object. Departing from Rome, sola fide insists that the only proper subject of satisfaction is Christ himself. Cranmer argues for this theological parsing in his response to Henry’s regarding the Bishops’ book. There Henry had “corrected” the Bishops’ book by removing “satisfaction” as a term applied to Christ and his work. Cranmer insisted that it must be added back in:
“Satisfaction,” which is put out meseemeth in any wise should stand still, to take away the root, ground, and fountain of all the chief errors, whereby the bishop of Rome corrupted the pure foundation of Christian faith and doctrine. For upon this satisfaction did he build sticks, hay, and straw, and satisfactory masses, trentals, scala coeli, foundations of chantries, monasteries, pardons, and a thousand other abuses.
We see clearly here that for Cranmer, the subject of “satisfaction” makes or breaks the very idea of faith. The result of this is that, when it comes to God, he must be both the subject and object of satisfaction. We must not be included. At the one moment of the liturgy, therefore, where satisfaction is rendered to God, it is rendered by Christ’s “full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction.” The only place we factor into this equation is as sinners who are the recipients of the gracious benefits of that transaction between the Son and the Father. It is of note that the Sarum Missal contained no reference to satisfaction. It is as though Cranmer was going out of his way to make his doctrinal point, holding up Holy Communion as a locale for the proclamation of the gospel through justification by faith alone.
SOLA FIDE IN WORD USAGE AND TRANSLATION
When it came to the grammar of sola fide it appears that Cranmer’s calibration was even more finely tuned than other Protestants who were developing liturgies in his time. We have already noted Cranmer’s indebtedness to Archbishop Hermann von Wied’s liturgy for Cologne, titled in English, A Simple and Religious Consultation. But observant historians note that Cranmer’s usage of such liturgies was never slavish. He was always editing. A powerful illustration of this is found in Cranmer’s usage of Hermann’s Confession for Holy Communion, paralleled with the same prayer in the 1552 Prayer Book (see
HERMANN VON WIED, COLOGNE LITURGY, 1543
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1552
Almighty, everlasting God,
the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the maker of all things, the judge of all men,
we acknowledge and we lament
that we were conceived and born in sins,
and that therefore we be prone to all evils,
and abhor from all good things;
that we also have transgressed thy holy commandments
without end and measure,
in despising thee and thy word, in distrusting thy aid,
in trusting ourselves and the world,
Almighty God,
father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
maker of all things, judge of all men,
we knowledge and bewail
our manifold sins and wickedness,
in wicked studies and works,
wherewith we have most grievously offended
thy majesty and hurted our neighbors.
which we from time to time
most grievously have committed,
by thought, word, and deed, against thy divine Majesty:
provoking most justly thy wrath
Therefore we have more and more buried
and lost ourselves into eternal death.
and indignation against us:
And we are sorry for it with all our hearts,
and we desire pardon of thee for all the things
that we have committed against thee;
we call for thy help against sin dwelling in us,
and Satan the kindler thereof;
keep us that we do nothing hereafter against thee,
and cover the wickedness that remaineth in us
with the righteousness of thy Son,
and repress it in us with thy Spirit,
and at length purge it clean out.
we do earnestly repent, and be heartily sorry
for these our misdoings:
the remembrance of them is grievous unto us,
the burden of them is intolerable:
Have mercy upon us,
most good and gentle Father,
through thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ.
have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us,
most merciful father,
for thy son our Lord Jesus Christ’s sake:
forgive us all that is past,
Give and increase thy Holy Spirit in us,
who may teach us to acknowledge our sins
truly and thoroughly, and to be pricked
with a lively repentance of the same,
and with true faith to apprehend and retain
remission of them in Christ our Lord;
that, dying to sin daily more and more,
we may serve and please thee in a new life,
to the glory of thy name
and edifying of thy congregation.
and grant that we may ever hereafter
serve and please thee, in newness of life,
to the honor and glory of thy name:
For we acknowledge that thou justly
requirest these things of us,
wherefore we desire to perform the same.
Vouchsafe thou, O Father of heaven,
which hast given us a will,
to grant us also that we may study to those things
with all our hearts which pertain to our health,
through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Figure 5.12. Cranmer’s redaction of Hermann’s Cologne Confession
We see here that Cranmer seems to value simplicity and clarity above an overly wordy Confession, and this apparent desire may be driving the shortening of the prayer. In a brilliant move which would remain enduringly memorable, Cranmer compacts Hermann’s long-winded litany of sin with the all-encompassing trio, “thought, word, and deed.” But notice, too, some of the language Cranmer chooses to leave out, particularly in the second half of Hermann’s prayer. Perhaps it is that though Cranmer could agree with Hermann’s theology about the new life granted by the Holy Spirit, he is still reticent to spend any time praying, at this liturgical moment, about anything that speaks of our works for God—the Confession is a clear place where the grammar of sola fide should clearly distinguish faith and works by emphasizing the not of “not I.” This could very well be why Cranmer excises any opportunity to inflate the “I” through the “apprehend(ing) and retain(ing)” of forgiveness (even if it is qualified with an origination in “true faith”), or through “dying to sin more and more.” Except for Cranmer’s final line (“and grant”), the confessing believer is not the subject of any action save sinning and repenting: we acknowledge sin; we grievously commit it; we provoke God’s wrath; we repent and are sorry. Likewise, Cranmer also seems hesitant to place the “I” as the subject of “desiring” to do that which God requires of us, so that section is left out. Similarly, Cranmer’s understanding of the bondage of the will (shared with Luther and Melanchthon) offers a good explanation as to why he leaves out even that final set of prayers. Hermann does acknowledge the will as “given” and would certainly understand this as the new will restored to us by God’s grace and empowered by the Spirit, but Cranmer’s grammatical filter evidently seeks to strain out any ambiguity which would confuse “not I, but Christ.” This comparison is important because it shows how Cranmer’s application of the grammar of sola fide, over against that of another Protestant’s, is more surgically exacting.
Another similar comparison may be found in juxtaposing Cranmer to Luther himself in the evolution of Luther’s 1526 baptismal rite, his Taufbüchlein, through the changes in Cranmer’s 1549 and 1552 liturgies. We examine, in particular, the final lines of what has been traditionally called the “Flood Prayer” (see
LUTHER’S TAUFBÜCHLEIN, 1526
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1549
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, 1552
. . . that he may be
separated from the unfaithful,
preserved in the holy ark
of Christendom
dry and safe,
and ever fervent in spirit
. . . that they,
being delivered from thy wrath,
may be received into the ark
of Christ’s church,
and so saved from perishing:
and being fervent in spirit,
. . . that they,
being delivered from thy wrath,
may be received into the ark
of Christ’s church,
steadfast in faith,
and being steadfast in faith,
and joyful in hope
joyful through hope,
rooted in charity,
joyful through hope,
and rooted in charity,
serve thy name,
may ever serve thee:
may so pass the waves of this troublesome world,
so that he with all the faithful
(*with all thy holy and chosen people).
may be worthy to inherit
And finally attain
that finally they may come
thy promise of eternal life,
to everlasting life,
(*)
to the land of everlasting life,
there to reign with thee,
world without end,
through Christ our Lord.
This grant us we beseech thee,
for Jesus Christ’s sake our Lord.
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
* This section moved up
to parallel Luther more closely.
Figure 5.13. Cranmer’s redaction of Luther’s Taufbüchlein: The Flood Prayer
We observe two key small but significant changes in 1552. First, Cranmer removes the prayer that the baptismal candidate would, in the future, “serve thy name” (Luther) and “ever serve thee” (1549). Interestingly, Cranmer opts for something more passive: “May so pass the waves of this troublesome world,” expanding on the maritime metaphors, and perhaps even offering an (ironically Lutheran) image of the vita passiva, trading active “service” of God for a more modest suffering through “the waves of this troublesome world.” It reminds one of the description Luther’s vita passiva offered by Oswald Bayer: “Faith is thus the work of God, through and through, with nothing accomplished by the human being; rather, it can only be received and suffered.”
Second, Cranmer changes Luther’s “may be worthy to inherit thy promise of eternal life” to “finally attain to everlasting life” in 1549. As we saw with the Collects above, the concern about merit will often extend into language about being “worthy” to receive something from God. But we note that Cranmer even eventually shies away from the idea that we “attain to everlasting life,” for in 1552, the language is again far more passive: “That finally they may come to the land of everlasting life.” Not only does Cranmer here yet again extend the oceanic metaphor, he opts for a verb “come” which drains all effort from the action. Again, we witness sola fide functioning like a filter, sifting out the “I” so that only the pure gold of “but Christ” is left alone.
It is becoming clear that when it comes to the grammar of sola fide, individual words matter. We observed in the Collects the sensitivity with which Cranmer translated, transposed, or simply removed loaded Latin ideas like mereamur, spero, and propitius, But we also see general statistical upticks in the usage of certain terms that keenly express the doctrine and fruit of sola fide. As we noted in 
SOLA FIDE IN THE LECTIONARY
The aforementioned prevalence of the “mercy” word-group segues into another way Cranmer amplified the voice of sola fide: the Lectionary “to be used at the celebration of the Lord’s Supper and Holy Communion through the year.” In the assigned readings, the word-group appears forty-one times. But Cranmer’s editorial eye took watchful care over more than word counts. Sometimes, Cranmer appears to have expanded the lectionary’s readings where the gospel can be proclaimed. For instance, the original lectionary reading for Easter Tuesday only included the first half of Acts 13. Cranmer calls for a reading of the whole chapter, which now includes the announcement of “forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you” (13:38); the distinction between law and gospel in the freedom of Christ versus bondage of the law (13:39); urging of continuance in the grace of God (13:43); the outpouring of the “word of the Lord” (13:44, 48). This all resulted in abounding faith (13:48) and the disciples being “filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit” (13:52). Quite interestingly, Cranmer makes a specific move on the fifteenth Sunday after Trinity, which Cuming calls a “single unaccountable change,” as “both passages are worth reading, but in a context of little change, the present substitution seems surprising.” However, the substitution is only surprising if one does not account for Cranmer’s passion for the clarity and centrality of justification by faith alone. The originally assigned passage, Galatians 5:25–6:10, pulls Paul’s string of admonitions (the voice of the law) out of the context of his epistle. So instead, Cranmer replaces the reading with what follows in Galatians 6:11-18, which renounces boasting in the flesh (6:12-13), urges boasting in Christ alone (6:14), and is punctuated by “the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ” (6:18). It seems that Cranmer would rather platform a passage that clearly distinguishes law from gospel and faith from works than remain in the ambiguities of moral injunctions divorced from those distinctions.
On St. John the Baptist, Cranmer would interestingly swap out the original reading of Isaiah 49:1-7 for the new reading of Isaiah 40 in 1552. The former is highlighted in Luke 2:32 as pertaining to the salvation of the world through Jesus Christ. The latter is a more explicit reference to John the Baptist, as Isaiah’s words are quoted in all four Gospels (Mt 3:3; Mk 1:2; Lk 3:4; Jn 1:23). But not to be missed is the new passage’s emphasis on some of Cranmer’s favorite language of the gospel’s consolation reminiscent of his own first comfortable word and his concern for a “hearty” liturgy: “Comfort my people (O ye prophets) comfort my people, sayeth your God, comfort Jerusalem at the heart, and tell her: that her travail is at an end that her offence is pardoned, that she hath received of the Lord’s hand sufficient correction for all her sins.” Even in his lectionary revisions, the Archbishop appears to have sought out opportunities to proclaim the gospel and speak its comfort.
SOLA FIDE IN NEWLY COMPOSED PRAYERS
As hinted at with the emergence of new theological emphases through the rise in words such as mercy, we also observe that Cranmer’s wholly original contributions to the liturgy do some of the strongest work in the grammar of sola fide. We therefore want to look at two new prayers in the Communion liturgy—the Prayer of Humble Access and the Post-Communion Prayer. Though unprecedented, as we find with much of Cranmer’s best work, both prayers together appear to be a reaction to the language and theology of medieval public piety. Eamon Duffy records a popular prayer in medieval England, found regularly throughout early sixteenth-century primers devoted to preparing the faithful Christian for receiving Communion. Setting a portion of this prayer known as the Salve salutaris hostia alongside both of Cranmer’s new prayers illumines the theological clarity with which Cranmer sets forth sola fide (see
THE PRAYER OF HUMBLE ACCESS
THE POST-COMMUNION PRAYER
. . . I may be worthy
to be incorporated
into your body,
which is the Church.
We do not presume to come
to this thy table,
O merciful Lord,
trusting in our own righteousness,
Almighty and everliving God,
we most heartily thank thee,
for that thou dost vouchsafe
to feed us,
May I be one of your members,
and may you be my head,
that I may remain in you,
and you in me,
so that in the resurrection
my lowly body
may be conformed
to your glorious body,
according to the promise
of the Apostle,
so that I may rejoice in you
and your glory eternally.
but in thy manifold
and great mercies:
we be not worthy,
so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table:
but thou art the same Lord
whose property is always
to have mercy:
grant us therefore (gracious Lord) so to eat the flesh
of thy dear son Jesus Christ,
and to drink his blood,
that our sinful bodies
may be made clean by his body,
and our souls washed
through his most precious blood,
and that we may ever more
dwell in him,
and he in us.
which have duly received
these holy mysteries,
with the spiritual food
of the most precious body
and blood of thy son
our savior Jesus Christ,
and dost assure us thereby
of thy favor and goodness
toward us,
and that we be very members
incorporate in thy mystical body,
which is the blessed company
of all faithful people,
and are also heirs,
through hope,
of thy everlasting kingdom,
by the merits
of the most precious death
and Passion of thy dear son. . . .
Figure 5.14. Salve salutaris hostia and Cranmer’s New Communion Prayers
Though it would be a stretch to say that Cranmer’s new prayers were recasting the Salve prayer or other prayers like it, what we can say is that the changes in language along with new sentences illumine how Cranmer’s theology resulted in a reshaping of common euchological language around the table. What we see clearly here is how sola fide serves to form language that draws distinctions, rather than blurs them. In the lines of the Salve prayer preceding what we have displayed here, the supplicant asks to be made worthy by God in order to “merit” (merear) incorporation into the death and resurrection of Christ. Though the one praying is found initially seeking this worth from God, the underlying theology and thrust of the prayer is that they are asking to be made intrinsically righteous and to bring that righteousness to the table. The Salve prayer therefore predicates coming to the table on the worthiness of the supplicant to be incorporated into the body of the church (“I may be worthy”), while the Prayer of Humble Access claims a clear “not I” in “we be not worthy.” It makes clear that we are not “trusting in our own righteousness.” The post-Communion prayer likewise does not place this incorporation into Christ’s body in the sphere of worthiness, but in the sphere of assurance because of the worthiness (“the merits”) of Christ. Also noteworthy, the Salve prayer’s closing of “rejoicing in you eternally” remains subsumed under the (intrinsic) worthiness of the supplicant, while the post-Communion prayer subsumes eternal life under assurance. In the former, eternity is earned (faith and works together). In the latter, eternity is given (faith and works distinguished).
While the Salve prayer requests “May I be one of your members,” the post-Communion prayer yet again assures us that, because of Christ, we simply are members. Whereas the Salve prayer emphasizes the resurrection as the place where our “lowly body” will be “conformed” to his “glorious body” (which is certainly true), the Prayer of Humble Access emphasizes in its body-comparison the radical disjunction between our sinfulness and Christ’s righteousness: our “sinful bodies” are cleansed by his (pure) body, and our souls are washed through his blood. It is as though the Prayer of Humble Access here takes every possibility for the confusion of faith and works in medieval eucharistic piety and recasts each moment in order to claim, “not I, but Christ.” Finally, we notice that the Prayer of Humble Access uses the language of “mercy” three times. We might say in summary that the Salve prayer centralizes eucharistic piety around our worthiness to receive the grace of God (“both I, and Christ”), whereas Cranmer’s prayers centralize the devotion of the table around our unworthiness being met by the assurance of Christ’s merits and his benefits for us (“not I, but Christ”).
We should take further note of how the post-Communion prayer’s whole notion of assurance may be offering a not-so-subtle critique of medieval piety as the prayer operates according to the grammatical rules of sola fide. Duffy’s extensive inquiry into the devotion of the Middle Ages argues persuasively that for Christians of that time, being remembered after death was key to one’s eternal security. Indeed, this remembrance was one of the principal ways a believer before death was offered assurance of heaven after death. This was the theology (indeed, the soteriology) behind prayers for the dead. Devotional and doxological practices developed around these beliefs, most especially the “bede-roll”—a catalog of the souls of the dead to be prayed for. As Duffy summarizes, “The most straightforward, and the cheapest, way of securing the perpetual recollection of one’s name in the course of the worship of the parish was to have it entered on the bede-roll.” The annual recitation of this bede-roll “gave parishioners a vivid sense of the permanence and security of their own place, large or small, within the community of the parish” and, by virtue of that, their place within the mystical body of the communion of saints. In other words, the bede-roll became a significant anchor and ceremony to assure people that they were truly members of Christ’s church. This outlook, to put it bluntly, allowed a person to literally purchase their assurance of eternal salvation. For Cranmer and the other Reformers, the doctrine of sola fide would say no to this confusion of faith and works.
This would in turn give rise to the rediscovery of the sacraments themselves as places of assurance by faith apart from works. Whereas in medieval piety the bede-roll along with other similar devotions located assurance in the act of joining faith and works, the Reformers would exposit the sacraments as the location of assurance precisely because they were proclamations of the gospel by distinguishing works from faith. Listen carefully, for instance, to Melanchthon’s language surrounding baptism and the Lord’s Supper:
We should always be most certain of the forgiveness of sin and God’s goodwill toward us who have been justified. Therefore, sacraments or signs of God’s mercy have been added to the promises, . . . and they give a most certain testimony that God’s goodwill applies to us. . . . The signs of Baptism and participation in the Lord’s Supper have been added to the promises as autographs of Christ, so that Christians may be certain that their sins are forgiven.
In the Scriptures signs are added to the promises as seals, both to remind us of the promises and to serve as sure testimonies of God’s goodwill towards us, confirming that we will certainly receive what God has promised.
Cranmer’s post-Communion prayer would strongly echo these sentiments. At the table, God “dost assure us thereby of thy favor and goodness towards us.” And what assures us that we are secured as “very members incorporate in thy mystical body” and that we are “heirs through hope of thy everlasting kingdom” is not that we have purchased for ourselves a place on the bede-roll, but that Christ has purchased a place for us through “his most precious body and blood.” In other words, it is the promise of God, spoken through tangible means of bread and wine, which assure believers of their place in eternity. The gospel preached in Communion and received by faith alone is Cranmer’s “bede-roll,” given, not earned.
We have spent significant time examining the text of the liturgy—words and phrases. We now move on to the equally important content located not in the liturgical text but the liturgical practice. Though less immediately tangible, ceremonies—liturgical action and its assisting tools—are no less formative and persuasive, and just as with words, Cranmer knew that ceremonial carried power to either proclaim or obscure the gospel.