Methodism as a Polity
Underlying the polity as well as the theology of Methodism is a real but sometimes forgotten philosophy. Looked at as a history, Methodism is an evolution, in which each step is an inevitable stage in a vital process. Regarded as a system, it is a living organism, in which each part is the necessary complement of every other part.
Wesley himself explains what may be called the philosophy of Methodist history by saying that “everything arose just as the occasion required.” In those quiet syllables is expressed what, as we look back upon it, is seen to be one of the clearest processes of scientific evolution known to ecclesiastical history. Who studies that evolution will see that, always, the facts not only create the machinery, they make it inevitable. And any failure to meet the new facts as they arose with adequate organisation would have arrested, and perhaps have defeated, the whole movement. The story of Methodism is a drama in which no human being, not even Wesley himself, is consciously shaping events. The shaping force is greater than any human will, and wiser than any human sagacity. And not merely does the scale of the events outrun the vision of the chief actors in them, the order of those events seems to be independent of their purpose.
Let Wesley’s life, after his conversion, be set in historic perspective. He had a new message for England. He taught, it is true, the “plain old doctrines of the Church of England,” but he proclaimed them with a change of emphasis, and with a note of reality and of urgency, which startled the drowsy clergy of that day. He talked what sounded in their ears an unknown and disquieting language. He becomes for them a challenge and a test. As a result the church doors are shut against him. He must be silent, or find a new arena and new audiences. So came field-preaching, and Wesley and his comrades proclaimed their message to vast crowds under the arched skies and in the free air. With that fact a new ecclesiastical world comes into existence.
The fast multiplying converts soon make imperative an organisation for their oversight and nurture. Wesley takes a bit of machinery already in existence, and groups his converts into societies. The societies must have meeting-places. These at first are rooms; the rooms grow into chapels. All this means the raising and expending of much money. Then, as now, Methodism found the strength of its finances, not in the splendid gifts of the rich, but in the ungrudged if scanty gifts of the poor; and there must be some organisation for collecting their pence.
The story is classic how, out of this financial necessity, rose the greatest institution in Methodism — the class-meeting, and its most valued order of workers — the class-leaders. Wesley, quick-eyed to see the possibilities of things, writes in his Journal, “This was the very thing we wanted.” He put his converts in groups under leaders, who at first visited the members in their charge at their own houses. Later, and for greater convenience, the groups gathered in little meetings. So arose the Methodist class-meeting; and with it came into existence what the class-meeting represents — the lay pastorate of Methodism — its “leaders.”
Already, too, the great twin feature of Methodism, an order of lay preachers, had been created by the necessities of the work. Wesley and his comrades must have helpers, who sometimes shared their travels, but more frequently remained behind to take charge of the converts while the leaders moved on to new fields. These “helpers” at first were allowed only to expound the Scripture; but it passes human wit to tell where “exposition” ceases and “preaching” begins. The “helpers” inevitably became preachers; and, like their great, leader, they were itinerants. And the itinerancy profoundly colours the whole Methodist ministry. Its ministers are more than an order. They are a brotherhood — a brotherhood with something of a pilgrim and militant note in it. How deeply the law of celibacy affects the Romanish priesthood every one knows; and the law of the itinerancy affects the ministry of the Methodist Church almost as powerfully. And the other two great characteristics of the Methodist Church, the lay ministry and the lay pastorate, are the correlatives of the itinerancy. Without an itinerant ministry they would not be needed; without them an itinerant ministry would not be possible.
The societies were presently grouped for purpose of oversight and government into clusters called circuits. Each branch of Methodism had already evolved its special oflBcers. The classes required leaders, and the leaders naturally crystallised into the leaders’ meeting, the spiritual court which watches over the discipline of the membership. The chapels were vested in trustees; so came the Trustee meetings — the business machinery dealing with church property. The societies needed stewards to take charge of their finances. A combination of all the stewards, leaders, &c., in the bounds of any circuit formed the Quarterly meeting, perhaps the most effective instrument for the transaction of the business affairs of a group of churches yet discovered.
The multiplying circuits scattered over the area of the three kingdoms needed some central organisation, and this was found in the Conference. Wesley’s first Conference in 1744 consisted merely, as we have seen, of six clergymen, who invited four lay helpers to join them; and these consulted together as to the teaching and policy of the new movement. For forty years the Conference was an indeterminate, fluctuating body, dependent on Wesley’s will, and meeting only on his summons. But, as was inevitable, it grew in scale and influence; it became definite in structure. It formed in the end the centre of authority for the whole movement of which Wesley was the head. It defined the theology of Methodism, shaped its organisation, directed its policy, enforced its discipline.
Such a court, it was soon realised, must not depend on the accident of Wesley’s life, and expire with his death. It must be assured of continued legal existence. So in due course came the famous Deed of Declaration, and Methodism became what, in the eyes of the law, is a perpetual corporation; but what is, in historic fact, an undying Church.
Meanwhile, and still as in all other details of its history — by the mere compulsion of events — another great ques-
42G tiou, the administration of the sacraments, had to be settled. That question marks the parting of the ways. It compelled Wesley to take, though late and reluctantly, the steps which completed the equipment of Methodism. He broke through the church order which so long fettered his hands. He first permitted the celebration of the sacrament in uhconsecrated buildings. And it was Charles Wesley, the most obstinate of High Churchmen, who led the way in administering the Lord’s Supper in unconsecrated places; and with a flash of what was in him unusual, common-sense, he declared he would administer the ordinance, not only in an unconsecrated house, but in the midst of a wood, rather than leave the new converts without the means of obeying Christ’s command. Later, Wesley himself ordained some of his helpers for the purpose of administering the sacraments; but he did this only when the failure of his helpers amongst the Anglican clergy made this necessary; and he did it in each field, in turn, as the necessity became urgent — first in America, then in Scotland, then in Ireland and the West Indies, last of all in England.
Who can look back on this whole process without seeing that it is an evolution, orderly, inevitable, scientific; the growth of a living organism with all its parts in vital and necessary relation to each other? For life has no superfluities.
If the ecclesiastical form of Methodism, as it actually exists full grown, be considered, one great and characteristic feature at once becomes visible. It represents a curiously complete and wise equipoise of forces. The constant peril of all church systems lies at the opposite extremes of clerical despotism, and of an unregulated lay democracy. The Church of Rome, with its priestly rule, its exaggeration of ministerial authority, represents one extreme. Plymouth Brethrenism, which practically denies the existence of any ministerial office at all, represents the other extreme.
Now, Methodism might easily have become a despotism. Its history, indeed, seemed to almost make that inevitable. Wesley might have played the part of another Ignatius Loyola to his societies, and have set up in them, and over them, an autocracy as absolute as that which is crystallised into tyranny in the Order of Jesus. If Wesley had been as Southey, couteniplating him through a distorted medium, imagined him to be, consumed with a love of power, he might have made himself a despot with ampler justification for his des])otisn» than most other historical characters possess. History, indeed — to say nothing of human nature — was on the side of that probability. But the grace of God saved Wesley from the blunder, and Wesley’s Church from the disaster, of a despotism. Methodism’is neither a despotism nor a democracy. It does not exaggerate the claims of the ministerial office; but it does not forget that such an office exists. Its system, we repeat, though it is not always and sufficiently recognised, is that of a wise balance of forces.
Wesley has been described as the discoverer of the possibilities of the layman in the modern Church, and it is certain that no other Church draws its laymen into franker partnership in all its affairs than does the Church Wesley founded. It shares its pastoral office with the leaders, its preaching office with the local preachers. In all its church courts, from the Quarterly meeting to the Conference, where the business affairs of the Church are dealt with, laymen sit with ministers in equal numbers, and with equal, if not identical, powers. Yet Methodism is no more a lay democracy than it is a clerical despotism. Through all its courts, and in all its work, there is an almost unconscious balance maintained betwixt these two extremes.
The minister alone, for example, has the right to admit members into the Church; but the leaders’ meeting, a lay court, has the right of veto on that admission. All the lay officers in the Church are elective; but the minister nominates candidates for election. He nominates a leader, but the Leaders’ meeting elects. He nominates a steward, but the Quarterly meeting must elect. He nominates a candidate for the ministry; but his nomination is only a proposal; it must be sustained by the votes of the Quarterly meeting. And so a lay court keeps the key of the pulpit. Speaking generally, no officer can be appointed without the consent of the Church court; but the Church court does not elect without the nomination of the minister.
It is not a question of “orders,” but of order. The minister’s nomination is a prima facie guarantee of fitness in the candidate; it is a guard against the rise of parties, the rush of untit, if not self-proposed, candidates, the arts and the passions of contested elections. There is no direct and independent election to any office by, say, the general body of church members; for this would turn the Church into a democracy, with the characteristic risks of democracy. But there is no independent appointment to any office by a minister; for this would set up in the Church a clerical autocracy. And Methodism is equally remote from both these extremes. Office in its system is not a reflex of the wish of mere numbers; that would justify direct election by the whole body of members. This is the method of democracy, and Methodism is not a democracy. Office in the Methodist Church represents duties to be discharged — the duty of a leader, of a local preacher, of a steward; and the nomination of the minister is simply a declaration on the part of the responsible pastor of the church that the person named is fitted to discharge that duty. But the minister cannot of his own act appoint.
An attempt is not seldom made to graft on Methodism some supposed “reform” which is alien to its genius; and the attempt, if it succeeds, never fails to bring disaster. Who studies the history of the divisions which, since Wesley’s time, have broken Methodism a.sunder, or of the strifes which have arrested its progress, will see that they have arisen, never on any question of doctrine, but always over questions of polity. And in every case the cause of the trouble has been the loss of that equipoise which is the characteristic feature of Methodism, as a polity, and the secret of its peace and its vigour. The forces which make for democratic methods, or for the unchecked rule of the ministers, have for the moment obtained the ascendency, and the balance of forces has been lost. For Methodism, it must always be remembered, is as far removed from the priestly sway of Romanism as it is from the structureless disorder of Plymouth Brethrenism. It holds to the pastoral office, but does not exaggerate its claims. It gives laymen the frankest partnership in both the spiritual work and the financial management of the Church; but it does not sacrifice order, and ignore facts, by obliterating all diversities of function betwixt the layman and the minister.