The Reluctant Archbishop
I believe that I may understand.
Anselm, Proslogion I
Three thousand years ago, King David wrote a psalm that states, “A fool has said in his heart, ‘there is no God’” (Ps. 14:1). Atheism is not a new “religion.” Not so long ago as David, another man wrote about the existence of God and did so with such clarity and logic that he could be considered the atheist’s worst nightmare. His name was Anselm.
Anselm’s life was punctuated with the word no. When he was fifteen, he wanted to join the local abbey in northern Italy, but Gundulf de Candia, his father, had other ideas. He wanted his son to go into politics, but Anselm wasn’t so inclined. Not wanting to take his father’s advice, he personally approached the abbot to plead his case. However, without Anselm’s father’s permission, the abbot would not allow Anselm to join the abbey.
Anselm didn’t give up easily. He prayed about the matter, but not in the usual way. He prayed that he would become severely ill, hoping that the abbot would then feel compelled to take him in. He indeed became ill, but he endured his sickness outside the walls of the monastery.
He left home at last at the age of twenty-seven and spent several years traveling. In Normandy, he came upon the monastery at Bec. The abbot, Lanfranc, took him in and trained Anselm to become a monk. Within three years of Anselm arriving at Bec, Lanfranc was appointed archbishop of Canterbury, a significant church position across the English Channel.
Unwanted Recognition
There’s a problem with being very good at what you do: you get promoted. Soon after Lanfranc left Bec, Anselm was given his role as abbot. Under his leadership, the abbey gained a reputation for scholarship. Still, Anselm appeared to resent the time he had to spend on administration, which deprived him of opportunities to study. He asked his bishop to relieve him of some of his pressing duties as abbot, but instead of being granted relief, he was told that he should prepare himself for greater work. That greater work came in 1093, when he was appointed archbishop of Canterbury.
It was not an easy appointment. King William II of England didn’t want Anselm, and Anselm didn’t want Canterbury. Both men were happy to keep their distance from one another. But several years passed and William became extremely ill. Not wanting to die in his sin, he tried to make amends for some of his behavior by installing Anselm as archbishop. Anselm believed his age, health, and disposition would keep him from being a good archbishop and so resisted the appointment. However, William insisted and, at that time, it was his decision to make. Anselm had little choice but to relent, but in his acceptance he put forth three conditions: King William had to return land taken from the church; he had to acknowledge the authority of Pope Urban II, with whom he had been at odds; and he had to accept Anselm’s spiritual authority. Those requirements were accepted by the king.
Anselm would live out his days in the position, and be buried on the church grounds in 1109.
Anselm’s two greatest contributions during his long ministry have endured through the centuries. First, while still at the abbey in Bec, he developed what has come to be known as the “ontological argument.” His goal was to prove the existence of God. Anselm’s approach is highly philosophical and a tad difficult to comprehend for those not trained in philosophy. The heart of the ontological argument is that God is the greatest being we can conceive; we can’t conceive of a being greater. In Anselm’s worldview, that meant there must therefore be a God in reality. In our age, which depends upon evidence rather than arguments of logic, this sounds a tad iffy. Still, it had a great influence on theology for years.
Anselm’s other great contribution is the theological proclamation that Jesus, as God in the flesh, did for humankind what it could not do for itself. During the early centuries of the church a view of the atonement—the reconciling of humanity with God—called the “ransom” view was the accepted doctrine. This view taught that when Adam and Eve sinned, all humankind became Satan’s hostage. When Jesus came and died on the cross, he ransomed us from the dominion of Satan. So, Jesus’ death paid the price for our freedom from Satan—a ransom.
Anselm believed this view to be wrong. Satan wasn’t owed anything by God. Sin offended God, not Satan. God was loving but it was also his nature to be just. In Why God Became Man, Anselm argued that Christ’s death was not a payment of ransom to Satan but rather a way of satisfying God’s perfect and just nature. People lacked the ability to do anything to be forgiven, so Jesus did for them what they could not do for themselves. Of course, in Christian thinking, Jesus is God in the flesh. “No one,” said Anselm, “but the God-man can make the satisfaction (sacrifice) by which man is saved.”1
Nearing death, Anselm told his monks that he was ready to leave this life. He just wanted to do one more thing: address Augustine’s questions about the soul’s origin. He could not think of anyone else who could do the work. But it was not to be. He died only a few days later.
History is often changed by war, by disaster, or by great discoveries, but sometimes it is changed in quiet ways, by men who shun the power and trappings of politics or powerful business. Anselm’s revolution was one of the mind, of Christian thinking. Anselm made a contribution to the defense of God’s existence and to our understanding of the achievement made on the cross. Most contemporary Christians may not understand Anselm’s ontological argument, but most do understand that Christ died to pay for humankind’s sin, a payment made to God.