[page 85]
Disagreement and conflict make people uneasy, for ours is an age of anxiety. One common response to conflict is to adopt the language of pluralism by proclaiming that disagreements don't really matter, just as it need not be a problem that some people have dark skin while others have light skin. People of different races are all beautiful in their own way, and so are different ideas.
Other people respond to conflict by declaring that the disagreements between people may be real (which involves admitting that some people, at least, are wrong) but are only theoretical and thus not important. The differences are literally academic in that they do not pose a practical problem or have any bearing on day-to-day affairs.
There are indeed such "academic" differences, but there are also differences of a different nature -- political and economic differences. The differences between Stalin and Leon Trotsky that became painfully apparent after Lenin's death in 1924 had to do with political philosophy, but they were much more than academic. Trotsky was ruled a "heretic" and in 1927 was expelled from the Communist Party together with many of his followers. His dissent from Communist orthodoxy apparently cost him his life: he was assassinated in Mexico in 1940.
The philosopher Baruch Spinoza is another famous heretic who was literally excommunicated. The leaders of the synagogue in Amsterdam expelled him from the fellowship of the Jews in 1656 for his "evil opinions and works." Yet Lewis Feuer suggests that the issue was not so much theological deviance as power: excommunication "... was first and foremost a means by which the
[page 86]
unity of the community, as conceived by its affluent leaders, was to be preserved. Excommunication could be used to bend the will of those intractable members who challenged the socio-economic power of the governing group." [NOTE 1]
The concepts of heresy and orthodoxy do seem to function, then, in the political and economic sphere. They also play a role in the world of science and scholarship, where we would expect to find genuinely "academic" differences. It turns out that some of the differences in the scholarly world are more than academic. In various disciplines there is a reigning orthodoxy; dissenters or "heretics" have trouble getting teaching positions and research grants. Even philosophers, who should be the most flexible of all scholars in their thinking, can be distressingly narrow-minded about their discipline.
In the world of science and scholarship there is probably no better example of the concepts of orthodoxy and heresy at work than the psychoanalytic movement. Sigmund Freud, its founder, quickly attracted a number of followers and disciples, and among them were some men with ideas of their own -- especially Carl Gustav Jung and Alfred Adler. In the literature on the disagreements that sprang up we find references to "heresy" and " apostasy." [NOTE 2]
Freud himself led the way in the use of such language, describing Jung and Adler as "the two heretics." [NOTE 3] His loyal follower and biographer Ernest Jones observes: "Jung often said he was by nature a heretic, which was why he was drawn at first to Freud's very heretical work." [NOTE 4] Freud admitted that he had made a mistake in putting his trust in Jung, whom he later characterized as "... a person who was incapable of tolerating the authority of another, but who was still less capable of wielding it himself, and whose energies were ruthlessly devoted to the furtherance of his own interests." [NOTE 5] Like many another battler for orthodoxy, Freud felt compelled to "contend for the faith." He complained:
[page 87]
The discipline most often associated with disagreement and strife is theology. And it is certainly true that there is plenty of variety -- to use a less threatening term -- among theologians. If theologians disagree often, can we safely brand their disagreements merely academic? Or is the life and health of the church at stake in every disagreement?
The important point to be made here is that theology as a science, a scholarly discipline, is to be distinguished from dogma. The locus of theology is the academic world, while dogma is part of the life of the church. Yet some theologians try to bring these two notions together. Gerhard Ebeling, for example, speaks of the "ecclesiastical character of theology." It is significant that he also thinks in terms of various "theologies" to be found in the New Testament. [NOTE 7] If the gospel is itself a piece of theology, then the proclamation of the Word through the church can indeed be characterized as theology.
There are other theologians, however, who conceive of theology in narrower terms and carefully set it off from the dogmas of the church. James Orr distinguishes theology from both doctrine and dogma, describing it as "the reflective exercise of mind upon the doctrines of faith." [NOTE 8] Herman Hoeksema likewise regards dogma as the province of the church rather than of theology: "A dogma may be defined as a doctrine elicited from Scripture, defined and officially established by the church." [NOTE 9]
Dogmas function in the life of the church and help to structure and give substance to worship and liturgy. The creeds, in which the major dogmas are briefly stated, are not to be taken as pieces of theology; the Heidelberg Catechism, for example, speaks the down-to-earth, non-academic language of faith. Monika Hellwig explains the place of the creeds as follows: "The creeds used in worship are primarily a short form of profession of faith of the worshipping community; as such, they are not only a summary of the content of faith but also a prayer in which the believing community renews its commitment." [NOTE 10]
The difference between creed and dogma, on the one hand,
[page 88]
and theology, on the other, becomes still clearer when we note that theology concerns itself in great detail with all sorts of matters which creeds and dogmas hardly touch. Dogmas are usually explicit in what they rule out, as one can see from reading the Athanasian Creed (see pp. 32-3 above), but they leave a certain amount of latitude within. The Christian creeds clearly affirm that God is the Creator, but they do not exegete the first chapter of Genesis for us. Herman Bavinck observes that "... it is remarkable that not a single confession says anything about the hexaemeron [the six days of creation] ..." [NOTE 11] Theologians have certainly pursued this matter and come up with all sorts of exegetical suggestions, but the church has not made up its mind and issued a dogmatic ruling.
If theology is not dogma or doctrine, what is it? Etymologically it would appear to be the study of God or the science of God, and this is indeed how some traditional theologians have understood it. But the question quickly arises whether we know God as He is in Himself, as opposed to knowing Him in His relation to us, that is, by means of His revelation through which He bends down and accommodates Himself in order to make it possible for us to have knowledge of Him. If it is the latter, theology must somehow deal with the relation between God and the world He has made.
A representative definition of theology is offered by F.G. Healey: "... Christian theology may be described as systematic study of beliefs, practices and institutions which articulate Christian faith." Healey is careful not to suggest that Christian theology is simply the study of Christian faith. [NOTE 12]
There is a good deal to be said for such a definition. It is fairly broad and takes in most of what is ordinarily understood by theology. At the same time it does not focus excessively on human subjectivity: theology, for Healey, is not the study of faith. Still, this definition is lacking in that it does not place enough emphasis on the normative dimension. Theology does not study God in any direct, unmediated way, but it certainly does concern itself with His revelation. Every science, ultimately, is judged and normed by revelation, but theology makes revelation its object.
Revelation is not studied in the abstract but as it impinges upon
[page 89]
the lives of people who accept it or reject it. Hence we could better characterize theology as scholarly reflection on the appropriation of divine revelation by God's people in history. Such a definition preserves the central concern with the text of Scripture and its interpretation, while leaving room for historical theology (or church history) and systematic theology, which can never be divorced from the study of the development of dogma and doctrine. There is also room for the branches of theology that deal with the church and its functions, and on the periphery we could include a theology of the other religions, which would then be interpreted theologically as distorted and corrupt responses to God's pure revelation. The other religions are not to be understood in terms of themselves, for they are also subject to the normativity of revelation.
Theology understood by way of this definition should not simply be equated with what goes on in a theological seminary. The average seminary is in the business of training pastors and preachers -- not theologians. Theological instruction does make up a good part of the curriculum for training preachers, but there are also courses in other areas, such as Hebrew grammar. A course in Hebrew grammar, when offered in a seminary, does not suddenly become theology, any more than courses in psychology, philosophy or public speaking should be branded theology simply because they are offered in a seminary.
On the other hand, it should be emphasized that theology and the theologian exist to serve the church, the people of God, just as science and scholarship are supposed to serve life. In a secondary sense, then, we may speak of theology as having an ecclesiastical bearing. Theological awareness and excitement should spur pastors on to preach. Therefore it is sometimes said that good theology should be preachable.
A note of caution is in order here, however. What a pastor preaches is not theology per se -- or it should not be. A sermon is not an academic lecture but a proclamation of God's Word of grace and judgment. Proclamation is direct and bold, but not always nuanced and detailed. To a considerable extent, the application of the Biblical message must be left to God's people, that
[page 90]
is, to those to whom the message is addressed. In this regard preaching resembles creeds and dogmas more than it does theology. Many pastors preach on the various articles that make up the Apostles' Creed or on the questions and answers of the Heidelberg Catechism. They do not -- or should not -- preach on a succession of topics drawn from a theological handbook.
Preaching, then, is less detailed and specific than theology. The theologian tries to fill in the blanks, as it were; he speaks where the creeds are silent. But for that very reason he must be tentative in what he offers. His ideas and solutions to doctrinal problems are intended to stimulate the thinking of other theologians (both lay and professional) and to help preachers better understand the meaning and message of God's Word. If there is real theological progress, part of a theologian's work may even be taken up into a doctrinal or dogmatic pronouncement by the church.
But the theologian does not operate in a vacuum. His ultimate criterion for the ideas he advances is Scripture itself. Just as God's people were instructed to check prophecy against prophecy to make sure they were not taken in by a false prophet or teacher, [NOTE 13] the theologian compares his ideas with both the letter and spirit of Scripture. He is free to use his imagination and explore fresh possibilities, but he is not free to defend ideas which he knows to be contrary to Scripture.
An important element in the definition of theology offered above is that the appropriation of divine revelation by God's people takes place in history. Theology is in no sense timeless. But what, exactly, does this mean? For Hans Küng it means that there are theological ideas which we can "no longer accept." [NOTE 14] He writes: "The medieval world picture must be abandoned and the modem world picture consequently adopted, the result of which for theology itself will undoubtedly be the definitive transition to a new paradigm." [NOTE 15]
Küng is correct in maintaining that a different outlook or worldview has supplanted the medieval conception of life. But is the mind of our time one and unified? The historian Crane Brinton writes: "The main theme of Western intellectual and moral history since about 1700 has been the coexistence and mutual
[page 91]
interpenetration of two very different world views, the Christian and that of the Enlightenment." [NOTE 16]
There is more than one outlook or worldview competing for our allegiance, then. Hence we should not think in terms of a monolithic modern mind that simply rules out certain doctrines affirmed in the past as impossible to believe in our time. We face a choice. And as we make our choice we should remember that the worldview or outlook of an earlier age might well contain more truth than an "up-to-date" outlook clamoring for attention and acceptance. Even if we don't agree with all aspects of Martin Luther's conception of life in this world, we must admit that it contains a great deal of truth that is missing in the secular outlook that excludes the notions of human sinfulness and divine grace.
The understanding of life and the world prevalent in contemporary society differs in many ways from the outlook in Bible times. Thinkers who deal with hermeneutics or interpretation theory sometimes try to bridge the gap by making use of H.G. Gadamer's notion of the "two horizons." When we study the Bible or an ancient text, the two outlooks or worldviews (that of the text and that of the interpreter) must be brought together or fused in an act of understanding. [NOTE 17] There must be a meeting of minds, as it were, between the Bible and modern man. Yet the two do not meet on equal terms, for the Bible enjoys normative status as God's revelation. The question for modern man is not what his modern outlook allows him to learn or accept from the Bible but to what extent his modern outlook conforms to the Bible's demands. Can one absorb modernity -- in the sense of accepting the main lines of the Enlightenment's influence on our culture -- and still be in line with the Bible? Are we to fuse the Enlightenment or modern outlook with the mind of the Bible?
Some theologians are inclined to try to get back behind the Enlightenment by essentially ignoring it and glorifying writers and thinkers who lived before it. To do this, however, is to ignore the historical dimension in theological thought. In its reflection theology must explore the way in which the Western church today, living under the impact of the Enlightenment, responds to God's revelation. Thus the Enlightenment inevitably comes within theology's purview.
Insofar as the theologian is supposed to help the church abide in orthodox doctrine, he must strive for what Thomas Oden calls
[page 92]
"postmodern orthodoxy." [NOTE 18] Oden complains about "Christian amnesia," which renders people unable to see beyond the bounds of modernity, the outlook from which Christians must free themselves by relearning their heritage. He writes that we must "correct the myopia of modernity" and strive for a "larger historical consciousness." What does he mean by "modernity"?
Second, traditional orthodox theology has been somewhat philosophically and epistemologically naive. A postmodern Christian orthodoxy will have to take careful account of the epistemological work of significant modern philosophers, especially Kant, Hegel and Husserl. A new statement is needed on the question of the limits of knowledge. More refined formulations should be possible in which various neglected modes and dimensions of knowing are dealt with. Much orthodox Christian theology is still tied to an essentially empiricistic and positivistic conception of knowledge and theoretical thought.
To recognize the important historical dimension in theology is at the same time to set aside an ancient misconception, namely, that theology leaves no room for innovation or anything new. Princeton Seminary developed its own brand of Calvinism in the
[page 93]
nineteenth century, but its theologians insisted that nothing was being taught at Princeton that had not also been taught elsewhere as part of Christian orthodoxy. When the Seminary was one hundred years old, Francis L. Patton, its president, proclaimed: "There has been a New Haven theology and an Andover theology; but there has never been a distinctively Princeton theology. Princeton's boast ... is her unswerving fidelity to the theology of the Reformation." [NOTE 20] Charles Hodge, who taught systematic theology at Princeton, likewise declared: "I am not afraid to say that a new idea has never originated in this Seminary." [NOTE 21]
There is something commendable about this determination not to introduce anything new: the Princeton theologians were convinced that God's plan of salvation is fully and sufficiently revealed in Scripture. But at the same time their opposition to the idea of newness in theology was born of too narrow an understanding of theology, as we see when Hodge tells us that the Scriptures contain "all the facts of theology." [NOTE 22] Scripture is central to theology, of course, but theology also deals with how the church has responded to Scripture and appropriated Scripture in its life over the centuries. Hodge's conception of theology is timeless; it excludes the historical dimension.
Theology, it must be emphasized again, is a scholarly discipline. Therefore it must leave room for disagreements of various sorts and remain tentative in its results, just as all science must be tentative. Abraham Kuyper observes:
Theology is not by any means an exact science. Therefore a certain amount of imagination and speculation is needed; fresh approaches must be explored. Theodore W. Jennings, Jr. calls for "provisionality" in theology and argues for the "essential playfulness of theology." [NOTE 24]
If such a view of theology is correct, we can take comfort in the
[page 94]
thought that there is room for theoretical (or scholarly) disagreement in theology. In fact, disagreement and the clash of ideas can stimulate genuine progress and need not be taken as an indication that the theologians involved are drifting away from one another confessionally, although this possibility is not to be ruled out either. The point is simply that disagreement is a part of life in the world of science and scholarship.
Some theological diversity can be explained simply by the different materials theologians spend their time on. Because the book of Revelation is so full of Old Testament references and allusions, a theologian specializing in the Old Testament might read it differently than a theologian specializing in the New Testament, and might see in it certain things that escaped the attention of his New Testament colleague. Such differences and disagreements are not a reason for worry; rather, they make theology an exciting discipline.
I am not saying there is no heresy among theologians; the point is rather that we should not start talking about heresy as soon as we encounter disagreement. Moreover, heresy is not essentially a theoretical or scholarly phenomenon, as we shall see in the next chapter. Heresy has something to do with unbelief and apostasy, with sin and willfulness.
Click here for the notes to Chapter 8.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
[page 95]
We saw earlier that heresy is a much avoided topic, an embarrassment to many theologians, a word they would like to see dropped from our vocabulary. Yet there are also people who treat the notion of heresy in light-hearted fashion as a joke. Just as we chuckle over the prudishness of the Victorians, the notion of branding dissenters as heretics seems quaint. Some people even enjoy being called heretics. Will Herberg observes: "Today, people eagerly vaunt themselves as heretics, hoping that they will thereby prove interesting; for what does a heretic mean today but an original mind, a man who thinks for himself and spurns creeds and dogmas?" [NOTE l] Gerald Kennedy writes: "It has become something of a badge of honor to be regarded as a heretic, and most younger men who are discussing Christian theology and Christian ethics will pay as much attention to this label as they would to an accusation of being progressive." [NOTE 2]
Those who discuss the concept of heresy like to point out that the Greek word from which we get our English term heresy originally meant choice. The heretic, it seems, is someone who chooses, who makes his own decisions and does not allow someone else to tell him what to think and what to do. If this is the case, then ours should be the great age of heresy, for we are able -- indeed, forced -- to make more choices than any generation before us. Peter Berger therefore speaks of the "heretical imperative":
[page 96]
Man has come of age: he must choose for himself. Heresy -- understood as choice -- is the fate and privilege of all modern men and women.
When heretics are discussed in our time, it is usually with considerable sympathy -- often the sympathy we feel for an underdog. We may not agree with the heretic, but we wish him well. Thomas Szasz writes: "... so long as there is tension between the individual and the group of which he is a member, there will be heresy, whatever it might be called." What, then, is heresy? It is "being right when the right thing to do is to be wrong." [NOTE 4] Shailer Mathews views heresy in similar terms: "Heresy is the belief of a defeated party. If it had succeeded it would have been orthodoxy." [NOTE 5]
Some writers are eager to enlist respected historical figures under heresy's banner. Barrows Dunham argues: "... it is plain that the historical Jesus was in his time and place a heretic." [NOTE 6] Walter Nigg speaks of "the inexplicable Christ" and argues: "With the revelation of Jesus as a heretic, we have at least made a beginning in the hard task of speaking about him in other than the hackneyed phrases which have lost all affective power." [NOTE 7]
Heretics often get high marks for sincerity and are compared to saints. George Shriver writes: "Without a manual of church history as a program guide, it would be very difficult to tell the saints from the heretics in the course of Christian history. Both have been the most religious men of their own generations!" [NOTE 8]
But the heretic is not always depicted as a saint: he may also be a politician struggling for power. Barrows Dunham claims that heresies are "ideas which disrupt an existing society in such a way as to change, or to threaten to change, the distribution of power within it." [NOTE 9] We will see later that some scholars view heresy as mere dissent or disagreement, while others maintain that only dissenters who also engage in disruptive actions should be called heretics.
[page 97]
Scholars who speak well of heretics sometimes operate with a dialectical conception of the relation between heresy and orthodoxy. Just as there are thinkers who believe that evil is dialectically necessary in order that there be good (e.g. Hegel, Schleiermacher), [NOTE 10] there are scholars who view heresy as dialectically necessary to the development of orthodoxy -- and in this sense good.
Walter Nigg writes that heresy is "a necessary component of the life of the church." Heresy is the "other side of the Gospel." Hence we can say that "... heresy is Christianity, Christianity felt to its fullest intensity." We can take a hopeful attitude toward heresy because "... the Gospel holds potentialities which have not yet come to the surface." [NOTE 11] Robert McAfee Brown maintains that there must be a place for "dangerous" ideas in the church:
Generally speaking, we can distinguish two main views of heresy in the literature. Traditional authors who think of heresy mainly in the context of the history of Christianity view the heretic as a dangerous man who will probably cause harm or damage if nothing is done to stop him. Authors oriented toward modernity, on the other hand, tend to view the heretic as a mere dissenter, an individual whose right to disagree must be respected since our society guarantees freedom of speech.
The difference between these two conceptions is reflected in the title of Sidney Hook's book Heresy, Yes -- Conspiracy, No. Hook belongs to the modern camp and defines a heresy as "a set of unpopular ideas or opinions on matters of grave concern to the community." A conspiracy is a "movement which by secret, underground organization plays outside the rules of the game and seeks to subvert the institutions or processes that are part of the
[page 98]
democratic system." Hook appeals for "the toleration of dissent, no matter how heretical, not the toleration of conspiracy, no matter what its disguise." [NOTE 13]
Hook's book is actually less tolerant of heresy than it sounds, for the traditional notion of heresy includes what he calls "conspiracy." The heretic as traditionally understood stirs up discord and disrupts the life of the church, with the result that the church or the state eventually has to take action against him, just as today the democratic state must take action -- as Hook freely admits -- against "conspirators" who try to subvert the democratic process.
We have seen that modern commentators on heresy usually give the heretic the benefit of the doubt. Hans Küng calls for a "benign" interpretation of heresy and argues that we should be willing to credit the heretic with "good faith." [NOTE 14] Robert Grosseteste, a medieval English churchman, would not have agreed with this advice, for he defined a heresy as "an opinion chosen by human perception contrary to holy Scripture, publicly avowed and obstinately defended." [NOTE 15]
This conception of heresy was shared by the Reformers, who were themselves called heretics. Luther and Calvin did not glorify individualism and subjectivism, as one might be inclined to think from reading certain contemporary characterizations of Protestantism. Luther observed: "That is the peculiarity of all heretics, to believe that they have the spirit of God, and to know nothing of original sin." [NOTE 16] Calvin likewise pointed to the sinful element in heresy:
According to these observers, heretics are arrogant and claim to "know it all." Thomas Molnar has compared them to utopian thinkers, that is, people who propose to substitute for the existing social order something entirely different of their own devising: "Although of many varieties, heretics have all displayed
[page 99]
characteristics which may be found among utopians as well. The principal common characteristic is to become like God in the knowledge of good and evil (Genesis 3:5)." [NOTE 18]
Abraham Kuyper goes a bit further yet and attributes deceit to the heretics. He describes them as people "... who act as though they are bringing the truth and who have also drawn a good deal of their wisdom from God's revelation but in the meantime have deliberately mixed it with what comes out of their own hearts or wIth the wisdom of the world and the lies of Satan." [NOTE 19]
What comes through in these more traditional characterizations of heresy is that heresy is first of all sin. Indeed, it is apostasy, a falling away from God and His truth. Thus we do not describe someone who has never been exposed to the gospel and Christian teaching as a heretic; the pagans encountered on the mission field are not heretics. Unbelief is not to be equated with apostasy.
One of the great misconceptions with regard to heresy is that it has to do merely with the views one holds. There is more involved: heresy manifests itself ultimately as a rejection of authority, of the norm for our faith and life. In a book on medieval heresy we read:
The names of Korah, Dathan and Abiram, the Israelites who rebelled against the authority of Moses and Aaron in the wilderness, are not often mentioned in books on heresy, but their story exemplifies what is usually at issue. Before the punishment struck the three rebels and their families, Moses declared: "Hereby you shall know that the Lord has sent me to do all these works, and that it has not been of my own accord" (Numbers 16:28). Korah, Dathan and Abiram had not simply registered a minority opinion: they had stirred up discord by their "heresy," their choice, their rejection of Moses' authority as the leader designated by God.
Heretics, then, are not just doubters or dissenters or original
[page 100]
thinkers who come up with fresh ideas. They are ultimately to be regarded as rebels against divine authority who endanger themselves and others by their divisive, schismatic activities. That harsh action has often been taken against sowers of discord should not surprise us. It is one thing to doubt certain Christian teachings or interpretations of Bible passages, but quite another to attack Christian traditions and institutions as a self-appointed leader.
Heresy, then, is not disagreement on minor matters or academic questions. When Christian theologians disagree on secondary issues, they do not -- or should not -- accuse each other of heresy. The question of heresy is always bound up with the question of authority, which is of course a major matter. James I. Packer writes: "The deepest cleavages in Christendom are doctrinal; and the deepest doctrinal cleavages are those which result from disagreement about authority." [NOTE 21]
The ultimate authority or criterion for settling doctrinal disputes is God's Word -- the Bible. But in the modern world, writes Benjamin B. Warfield, people look to science, philosophy and the critical method as the standard for truth. This difference on the question of authority helps us to define heresy and orthodoxy: "We are 'orthodox' when we account God's declaration in his Word superior to them (i.e. science, philosophy and the critical method), their interpreter, and their corrector. We are 'heretical' when we make them superior in point of authority to God's Word, its interpreter, and its corrector." Thus heresy is "wilfulness in doctrine." [NOTE 22] Edward J. Carnell accordingly defines orthodoxy as "that branch of Christendom which limits the ground of religious authority to the Bible." [NOTE 23]
One of the most famous heretics in American religious history was Charles A. Briggs, who was tried on a heresy charge in the Presbyterian Church in 1892 and suspended from the ministry a year later. Briggs, an Old Testament professor who wanted to introduce "higher criticism" to America, did not limit authority to the Bible but argued that "... Reason is a great fountain of divine authority ..." [NOTE 24]
Heresy rejects the position the Bible claims for itself; it relies on an outside authority and introduces alien influences into
[page 101]
Christianity. Hence there is something to the suggestion that heresy is born when Biblical spirituality encounters a major outside force, such as the Greek mind with its powerful philosophical tradition. Tertullian apparently thought along these lines, for he wrote: "It is philosophy that supplies the heresies with their equipment ... Heretics and philosophers perpend the same themes and are caught up in the same discussions." [NOTE 25]
Concession to alien authority is the very essence of heresy, according to Warfield. He speaks of concession as the "high road" to heresy. [NOTE 26] Thus the primary issue is not which of the various Christian doctrines is rejected or modified, or how radically it is modified.
Our word heresy comes from a Greek word that is used in the Bible: there are explicit warnings about heresy in the New Testament. But is it exclusively a New Testament phenomenon? Peter links heresy with the Old Testament theme of false prophecy: "False prophets also arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you, who will secretly bring in destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them ..." (II Peter 2:1). Heretics, then, are the New Testament equivalent of the false prophets of the Old Testament.
It is sometimes suggested that the false prophecy of the Old Testament must be attributed to demonic inspiration. It is true in at least one sense that human sinfulness is linked to satan's inspiration and encouragement, but we need not have recourse to the transcendent world of angels and spirits to describe and characterize false prophecy: it is apostasy, sin. G.C. Aalders writes that the ultimate origin of false prophecy is enmity in the human heart against God's revelation: "... Scripture teaches us to view false prophecy in the first place as born of the sinful human heart, as a product of factors that lie within man himself; demonic operation may be accepted only as a more distant factor." [NOTE 27]
Heresy and false prophecy must not be understood as an explicit and total repudiation of the God of the Bible; it is not utterly secular, atheistic Humanism. The heretic includes elements of the Christian revelation and of Christian teaching in his system of
[page 102]
thought. Christ is not ignored but is assigned a significant place in Islam, Mormonism and various other faiths that have arisen in the wake of Christianity -- not the place of honor He deserves as the Son of God but an important place nevertheless. The heretic -- like satan himself -- knows how to quote Scripture when it suits him. Hence the old proverb "Geen ketter zonder letter" (No heretic without a text).
When heresy is understood in this way, it must be related to syncretism, that is, the effort to combine or synthesize Biblical revelation or Christian teachings with other religious and philosophical doctrines. Syncretism, according to W.A. Visser 't Hooft, involves a "revolt against the uniqueness and concreteness of a revelation in history." Syncretism "... does not know of revelation in that sense of the word. It may speak of many revelations, but this very multiplicity shows that none of them are in any sense decisive and that none of them demand a definite commitment. So syncretism has no centre, no point of reference." [NOTE 28] In earlier ages the Christian faith was synthesized with other religions and cults, and also with rational-philosophical outlooks. Today syncretism takes on various forms, including that of a synthesis between Christianity and the political ideologies that people in many parts of the world are willing to fight for and die for. [NOTE 29]
If heresy is to be understood as the fruit borne by syncretism or a synthesis of the gospel with alien spiritual currents, such as the modern mind with its roots in the Enlightenment, is liberal Christianity, especially its Protestant version, to be branded wholly heretical? This is a difficult and painful question, for it involves judging the motives and intentions of churchmen and theologians who claim to have acted in the spirit and best interests of Christianity.
It can at least be said that liberal Christianity is frankly and openly accommodationist, that it makes a virtual principle of concession. Harry Emerson Fosdick, a leading spokesman for the liberal cause, writes that liberalism became "a movement of adaptation and accommodation": "We were adjusting Christian thought to a secular culture. Unaware of the consequence, we
[page 103]
made the secular culture paramount and standard." The purpose of the liberal movement, according to Fosdick, was
Thomas Oden, a former liberal, takes a much sterner view of accommodation. He complains about "addictive accommodationism" and "a diarrhea of religious accommodation." "The central theme of contemporary theology," he informs us, "is accommodation to modernity. It is the underlying motif that unites the seemingly vast differences between existential theology, process theology, liberation theology, demythologization, and many varieties of liberal theology -- all are searching for some more compatible adjustment to modernity." [NOTE 31] Oden, in response, calls for an orthodoxy that dares to defy modernity (see pp. 91-2 above).
We see what is truly at stake with regard to heresy when we realize that the movement in the accommodationist direction is ultimately a movement toward Humanism, the modern outlook that blossomed in the Enlightenment but has its roots in the Greek mind with its commitment to rationality. The Humanist quest for rationality ultimately becomes a rejection of any external authority, as "heteronomy" (law imposed by another) is replaced by "autonomy" (man a law unto himself). And autonomy, writes Jerald C. Brauer, "... is the basis for what has come to be called secularism. Autonomy asserts the essential non-religiousness of all structures of life. The age or the world is to be understood completely on its own basis. Man and the world are the measure of all things." [NOTE 32]
Once we drift away from the authority of God's Word, we are in danger of embracing a totally and explicitly anti-Christian outlook on life. The divine authority of God's revelation clashes with the human authority underlying the drive for autonomy. Man cannot serve two masters.
Click here for the notes to Chapter 9.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
[page 104]
Christians who regard unity as a norm and ideal are swimming against the stream, for our society is markedly individualistic. We romanticize individual choice and tend to look upon a person who subordinates his convictions or plans to others or to an institution as somehow lacking in integrity. Our obsession with self-realization fits in nicely with the pluralistic rhetoric of tolerance: each individual is beautiful and correct and morally praiseworthy in his (or her) own way. What's right for me may not be right for you. To each his ownl Christian obedience and self-denial seem out of place in such an atmosphere.
The much lamented break-up of Christianity into what we now call "denominations" reflects the individualism of the Western world. In New Testament days there were some Christians who took pride in following Paul while others followed Apollos, and they were rebuked for it (see I Corinthians 3:4). The denominations today can assert their individuality by proudly following Calvin or Luther or Wesley or some other theological leader. Evangelists tell us to worship at the "church of our choice." Apparently we must find the church that best fits our needs and aspirations. Calvinism may be right for me, but perhaps you need an Arminian church to meet your aspirations.
The existence of denominational divisions is greatly to be regretted, as Christians now freely admit. Leonard Swidler observes: "... the division of the Church is a betrayal of Christ ('I pray, Father, that they may all be one .. .') and a scandal to the world (' ... so that the world may believe')." [NOTE 1] Yet these denominational divisions cannot simply be abolished by a decision made one fine day. They have developed and deepened over decades and
[page 105]
generations, and it will take considerable time to overcome them.
Real Christian unity would bring all Christians into full ecclesiastical fellowship. In the meantime we should work for genuine unity within the denominations as well. But what is the tie that binds the members of a church or a denomination together? Do members of a denomination enjoy the same kind of unity as the members of a chess club?
The unity that should exist within a denomination can best be described as a confessional unity, a unity rooted in a common creed. The confession is what all of the church says together, the faith which the members profess jointly. It is a faith in the promises of the gospel, in the message of the Scriptures as expressed and interpreted in one or more creeds to which the denomination officially commits itself. Such creeds are often called "doctrinal standards."
This confessional unity should not be thought of as theological unity. We saw in Chapter 8 that there are differences between theology on the one hand and dogma or doctrine or creed on the other. Theology, as the result of scholarly activity, is more tentative than a creed. It is also more extensive and detailed. Theologians stake out positions on various matters on which the creeds do not rule.
Another important difference is that the creeds -- or many of them, at least -- have a more personal and existential character. The Heidelberg Catechism opens with the question: "What is your only comfort in life and death?" The answer is a moving statement of faith: "That I, with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ; who with His precious blood has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from the power of the devil ..." [NOTE 2] The Apostles' Creed is a statement of faith beautiful especially in its simplicity. It opens with the words: "I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only begotten Son, our Lord ..." This creed is often repeated at the open grave as a statement of the believer's comfort and hope in the face of death.
[page 106]
Unity is elusive. Some denominations possess genuine confessional unity, but others permit -- or even encourage -- "theological pluralism." Still, few churches claim to be without unity. Some simply declare that they are united -- without specifying how. Suggestions to the contrary are dismissed as uncharitable.
Perhaps the most interesting denominational tradition in this respect is the Church of England. It has been suggested that the Anglican churches around the world represent a "provisional prototype of the reunited Ecumene, the world-Christianity of the future." [NOTE 3] Anglicans are not generally given to feuding and do not have many schisms in their history. In a book on Anglicanism "in ecumenical perspective" we read: "The principal and most characteristic feature of Anglicanism is moderation." [NOTE 4] Stephen Neill seems to be getting at the same point when he talks about the indefinable quality of Anglican thought." He observes: "If the Church of England had not developed a capacity, unmatched in any other Christian communion in the world, for tolerating the intolerable, it would have been brought to an end long ago." [NOTE 5] John W. Lawrence views the Anglican genius for keeping the peace as a gift: "... the special gift of the Anglican communion is the knowledge that some things, which have generally been thought to be incompatible, really belong together ..." [NOTE 6]
Not all commentators on Anglicanism take such a benign view of the Anglican "gift." John M. Krumm, for example, speaks of the "genius of Anglicanism for double-talk." [NOTE 7] The unity achieved at such a price seems to many observers to be no unity at all. Yet there is more to the Anglican achievement than such criticism allows us to recognize. Stephen Sykes suggests that although there is "no specifically Anglican theory," there is an "Anglican practice." [NOTE 8] The inclusiveness or comprehensiveness of the Anglican tradition does not guarantee much in the way of doctrinal uniformity, but there is indeed a certain admirable unity in worship and liturgy. (There is also considerable liturgical unity in Lutheran circles.)
The importance of this dimension of Christian unity is all too often overlooked. Because Christians engage in public worship so often that it seems commonplace, various features of worship rarely become the object of explicit reflection. How is God to be
[page 107]
addressed and spoken of in the worship service? How are we to speak of Christ? What, exactly, is public communal prayer? What is going on when the congregation partakes of the Lord's supper or communion? Unity in these matters -- even a unity rooted largely in tradition -- should not be taken lightly. We rarely stop to think about it, but such unity by itself represents a significant form of confessional unity. The same can be said about church government, which is why it is unfortunate when congregations in a denomination insist on going their own way in matters of worship and liturgy and church order. Christian unity is eroded in the process.
The Anglican emphasis on unity in liturgy and church order indicates that unity can be sought in non-doctrinal agreement. It happens that many Christians of our time pin their hopes for unity mainly on the non-doctrinal side of Christianity. Those who do so love to use the word orthopraxis (or orthopraxy), which is then contrasted with orthodoxy. Unity, it appears, is to be sought more in right conduct than in right teaching. Hans Küng writes: "If remaining in the truth is essentially a question of discipleship in the Spirit of Jesus Christ, this is more a matter of orthopraxy than of orthodoxy: it is realized more in the Christian life than in teaching, more in the deed than merely in the word." [NOTE 9]
The emphasis on orthopraxis is not simply an effort to dispense with the concern for truth, then. The question is which conception of truth we should embrace. Küng offers us a contrast: "The truth of Christianity is not something to be 'contemplated,' 'theorized,' but to be 'done,' 'practiced.' The Christian concept of truth is not -- like the Greek -- contemplative-theoretical, but operative-practical." [NOTE 10] This is essentially the conception of truth we find in various liberation theologians, who are deeply influenced by the elevation of "praxis" over "theory" in much contemporary thinking. José Miguez Bonino tells us that "action is itself the truth." Praxis is not led by theory or knowing: "Correct knowledge is contingent on right doing. Or rather, the knowledge is disclosed in the doing." Thus Christian praxis is not normed or judged by some confessional standard external to itself. We read: "... there is no possibility of invoking or availing oneself of a norm outside praxis itself." [NOTE 11]
[page 108]
This way of thinking is not as new as is sometimes supposed. What it basically boils down to can be neatly expressed by way of a slogan that has been with us for decades: "Deeds, not creeds." The liberalism or modernism of the first half of our century did not use the term orthopraxis, but it promoted the same emphasis -- unity through agenda (i.e. what is to be done) rather than through credo (i.e. what we believe).
Shailer Mathews, one of the leading spokesmen for modernism, argued: "Behavior and attitudes ... are the very essence of a religion and the methods by which they are intellectually justified are relative to one's intelligence." Theology, declared Mathews, is "functional." [NOTE 12] Hence he called for a "de-theologizing of the Christian movement." [NOTE 13]
In the face of such statements, we can understand why J. Gresham Machen, the opponent of the modernists, complained about "the passionate anti-intellectualism of the Modernist Church" and called modernism "a movement which really degrades the intellect by excluding it from the sphere of religion." In this regard modernism was keeping pace with the modern world, argued Machen: "The depreciation of the intellect, with the exaltation in place of it of the feelings or of the will, is, we think, a basic fact in modern life, which is rapidly leading to a condition in which men neither know anything nor care anything about the doctrinal content of the Christian religion, and in which there is in general a lamentable intellectual decline." [NOTE 14]
The Christian tradition has by no means been oblivious to the problem raised in the debate about orthodoxy and orthopraxis. The New Testament writers already addressed this issue in terms of the question of faith and works: "Be doers of the word, and not hearers only" (James 1:22). "For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so faith apart from works is dead" (2:26). Here the New Testament was echoing the Old. H.M. Kuitert writes: "The Old Testament knows no sharp distinction between word and deed, any more than between speaking and acting." [NOTE 15]
Unsympathetic commentators on Christianity often misconstrue this point and suggest that Christians regard themselves as saved on account of their orthodoxy. Barrows Dunham writes:
[page 109]
"Faith justifies, Luther had said, and Calvin after him; works (that is to say, actions) do not. Or, to turn theological language into philosophical: a right theory as to fact and morals is sufficient to the good life." [NOTE 16]
Such misinterpretations of Christianity usually result from an identification of the notion of scientific theory, which is a relatively late development in Western history, with doctrine or creed. Under the influence of intellectualism and scientism, it is assumed that if Christianity has specific teachings, these are to be regarded as its "theories." But creeds and doctrines are not essentially theological or theoretical in character, as we have seen. They are not abstract and tentative, and they can be closely related to daily life. In other words, the separation between doctrine and life, or between "orthodoxy" and "orthopraxis," is foreign to the Bible and to genuine Christian spirituality. When the psalmist prays, "Teach me thy way, O Lord," what he is asking for is not theory or science but concrete guidance and direction for daily life, as we can see from how he completes his sentence: "Teach me thy way, O Lord, that I may walk in thy truth" (Psalm 86: 11).
We must be careful, however, not to simply equate doctrine and life, "orthodoxy" and "orthopraxis." Although the Bible does not separate them, regarding them rather as intimately related, it does recognize that doctrine comes first in a significant sense. Doctrine or our confession is God-given. We saw earlier (p. 29 above) that "What think ye of the Christ?" is the question of the ages. When Jesus put this question to Peter by asking him, "Who do you say that I am?" he responded with a stirring confession: "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." Jesus then declared: "Blessed are you, Simon, Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father, who is in heaven" (Matthew 16:15-17).
Martin Luther no doubt had such considerations in mind when he argued that doctrine and life must be distinguished (which is not to say that they should be separated). "Doctrine belongs to God," wrote Luther, "not to us; and we are called only as its ministers." He formulated this point even more dramatically by arguing: "Doctrine is heaven; life is earth." The upshot of the
[page 110]
matter is that purity of doctrine should be our special concern. Luther pointed out:
This distinction between doctrine and life is fundamental to understanding the most famous and most quoted statement of Luther's colorful life -- his "Here I stand" speech before the Diet of Worms in 1521, where he was asked to justify his course of action. In this speech he clearly distinguished his conduct or life from the doctrine he was defending, which he had found in Scripture: "For I do not make myself out to be any kind of saint, nor am I now contending about my conduct but about Christian doctrine." [NOTE 18]
We find essentially the same point being made by Calvin: Christian doctrine is given by God and must not be confused with human opinion. Calvin tells us that God "... puts a perpetual distinction between the human mind and the revelation of his Spirit. If this be so, it follows that what men utter of themselves is a perverse fiction, because the Spirit of God claims to himself alone, as we have said, the office of showing what is true and right." [NOTE 19] And what is found in Calvin is generally found in Bavinck as well: "In essence, all the truths of the Christian faith come to man from the outside. They are known to him only through revelation, and they become his possession only when he accepts them like a child in faith." [NOTE 20]
If Christian truth is ultimately God-given, there is no room for Paul Tillich's accusation that orthodoxy represents "intellectual pharisaism." [NOTE 21] Any claim that one's life or conduct is upright and correct might well be regarded as pharisaical, but the doctrine we profess is not ours in the same sense as our conduct. Doctrine belongs to God; it is God's truth!
The emphasis on orthopraxis is also mistaken for another reason: it is strangely out of step with Christian spirituality. Should the Christian be identified with what he does, as opposed to what he believes and confesses? Critics of Christianity usually say yes, and
[page 111]
then are quick to point to the inevitable gap between the Christian's confession and his conduct. Since there is such a gap in the life of every Christian, it appears that all Christians are hypocrites, people who fail to practice what they preach.
The fear of being accused of hypocrisy leads many Christians to be rather subdued about their confession. But a mature Christian spirituality recognizes something liberating and exhilarating in the very gap that leads to the hypocrisy charge: God's abounding grace gives him hope. The believer refuses to identify himself with his actions, his sins, for he confesses them to God and thereby puts them behind him. He then pledges to live by the law of God, which is a pledge he never fully lives up to. But in confessing his sins and affirming his love for God's law, he moves beyond his sinfulness and reaches forward to take hold of a new and better future. "O how I love thy law! It is my meditation all the day" (Psalm 119:97). The believer strains and does his utmost to attain that better future: "Let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith" (Hebrews 12: 1-2).
The Christian confession, then, is forward-moving in character. That's why the believer identifies himself with his confession, his credo, rather than his actions, which he leaves behind him as unneeded baggage. Sin and our past must be renounced: this is part of what we mean by self-denial. We transcend our history of sin and failure as we strive to meet our solemn pledge and commitment. The Christian does not say, "I am my history, my deeds'." Rather, he wants to be identified in terms of his promise, his commitment to dedicate his life to Christ.
What applies to the individual believer applies also to the congregation, to the assembly of God's people. The members of the congregation are bound to one another not first of all in ethnic or linguistic or cultural respects or even because they share a common history: their unity is confessional in nature. Together they confess their sin, and together they renew their pledge to reach forward toward a fuller realization of God's promises. To say that they are confessionally united does not mean that they all hold the same opinions but that they have made a joint commitment. That's why a worship service must never be conceived of as a situation in which a preacher entertains an audience; genuine
[page 112]
congregational participation is essential. Worship binds the members of the congregation to one another and to their God.
We see, then, that confessional unity is not a simple given to be taken for granted but something the congregation works toward. In other words, there is growth in unity, for different degrees of unity are possible. And what applies to the local congregation also applies to the church in a larger sense. The various parts and wings of the church must look to creeds and doctrines as the basis for genuine unity, and if doctrinal division appears they must work to overcome it.
The disagreements that arise are sometimes superseded in history, for doctrinal development does take place. There were already disputes between Peter and Paul during the apostolic age, but they were resolved in time. Roman Catholicism makes much of the notion of development, arguing that while the truth remains essentially the same, there is growth in the church's consciousness of the truth, a growth that is sometimes described as a movement from the implicit to the explicit. John Henry Newman (1801-90), a convert to Catholicism who eventually became a cardinal, gave classic expression to this notion, arguing
Protestantism also recognizes the development of dogma. James Orr, the author of a major book on the subject, writes:
[page 113]
The notion of development, of course, is by no means foreign to the modern mind, which is infatuated with evolution. Thus there are also thinkers who interpret doctrinal development along historicist lines and argue that the norm for the development cannot possibly lie at the beginning but must be sought in the telos, the end. (Here we see the influence of Hegel.) Robert Wilken takes such an approach and maintains -- contrary to Newman and Orr -- that Scripture may not be regarded as normative for doctrinal development: "The New Testament represents a 'random' selection from the Christian tradition as it had developed by the end of the first one or two generations." Wilken complains: "By idealizing the apostolic period, i.e. a particular historical epoch in the past, Christians have prized as values tradition, antiquity, apostolicity, uniformity, and permanence, and they have spurned change, innovation, novelty, and diversity." [NOTE 24]
Wilken stands for the modern ideal of ceaseless change, permanent flux, in which, it appears, there are no limits to what something may develop or evolve into. We cannot speak of the "essence" of Christianity: we must see what it becomes. G.K. Chesterton opposes this mentality by means of his conception of man as the "animal that makes dogmas." He writes:
If there is to be genuine growth toward greater confessional unity through doctrinal development, Christians must be willing to
[page 114]
learn. In other words, they must be careful not to equate their own opinions and views with God's truth but must instead admit that they may have to be corrected by Scripture or by their fellow Christians. And if such learning is to take place, there must be historical awareness. In this regard, the "Christian amnesia" that seems to afflict so many believers, cutting them off from the church's past, is a serious problem (see p. 92 above).
To be historically aware, we must be willing to examine past doctrines and ideas in context and must take the trouble to find out what questions were in the minds of the church's leaders when certain doctrines were formulated and certain statements made (see p. 34 above). Here the infatuation with the modern mind that has stricken so many Christians is a definite problem, for it leads them to turn their back on their Christian heritage and renders their thinking vulnerable to non-Christian and even anti-Christian emphases. It is no accident that the cults are making such inroads in Christian circles. James Hitchcock points out:
Our time sorely needs the kind of doctrinal development that could lead to a major restatement of the Christian faith in which it is set off first of all from the modern mind with its roots in the Enlightenment and in the commitment to rationality among the Greeks, and secondly from the various cults, sects and religions which are growing in influence in our time. But such a statement, that is, the formulation of a major new creed, would presuppose definite growth toward confessional unity, and such growth simply has not taken place. J. Gresham Machen considered this need decades ago and concluded sadly that "ours is not a creed-making age." He wrote: ". . . I think such doctrinal advance to be just now extremely unlikely. We are living in a time of widespread
[page 115]
intellectual as well as moral decadence, and the visible church has unfortunately not kept free from this decadence." [NOTE 27] Have things changed for the better since Machen's time? If anything, the confusion has increased.
Even if our time is not ripe for the promulgation of a new creed that will make it clear for our circumstances what Christianity is and is not, the work of doctrinal definition can and should proceed. And definition, if it is to amount to anything, involves exclusion. But what is to be excluded? Does Christianity include liberalism or modernism? Must we contend for the faith by disbarring liberalism, or must the borders within which Christianity is enclosed be enlarged?
It was this very question that led Machen to embroil himself in so much controversy. He could not promulgate a new creed on his own and expect to have it accepted, but he certainly could address this issue. Thus he wrote:
His best -- known book was devoted to this subject- Christianity and Liberalism. He argued: "... despite the liberal use of traditional phraseology, modern liberalism not only is a different religion from Christianity but belongs in a totally different class of religions." [NOTE 29]
Such language clearly represents intolerance in some sense -- the intolerance of the Bible itself. A.A. van Ruler writes: "There is no more intolerant book in the world than the New Testament. It says that the truth is given, that it lies behind us, in one name, one person, one event." [NOTE 30]
Genuine tolerance is not to be sought in a commitment to liberal ideals, for liberalism can show itself to be amazingly intolerant of its opponents. Neither is tolerance to be grounded in the gentle relativism that we today call pluralism, for relativism
[page 116]
gradually leads to anarchy, which is finally replaced by a repressive authoritarianism when the disorder grows too great. Tolerance is ultimately rooted in the divine command -- not in human good will or in skepticism and despair about truth. Genuine tolerance requires a recognition that we are not the possessors of truth but witnesses to God's truth. Hendrik Kraemer describes this recognition as the "apostolic attitude," for it leads us to invite others to accept and submit to the truth as well. [NOTE 31] But any such submission requires spiritual change, and thus a free decision.
Tolerance creates room for freedom and therefore should be regarded not as part of the heritage of liberalism and relativism but as one of God's good gifts. God wants human beings to have time and room and opportunity to rise to their calling as the crown of creation living in fellowship with Him and caring for the world He made. Van Ruler explains:
There are important differences between spiritual tolerance and political tolerance. What the state tolerates, the church is not necessarily obliged to tolerate. And there are other institutions and organizations to be considered as well, such as Christian educational institutions. Thus we turn now to a new set of questions involving Christian institutions.
Click here for the notes to Chapter 10.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
[page 117]
Individuals contend for the faith, but we tend to forget that institutions do so as well. The story of Martin Luther's battle against the Roman Catholic Church is told and retold, but most Christians prefer not to talk about the medieval Inquisition, which was in effect a Christian institution doing battle for the faith in its own way. Thus there are some further questions to be raised.
First of all, despite the widespread recognition that Christian -- or perhaps religious -- unity is an ideal to be striven for, there is little agreement on the basis for such unity and the means by which it is to be achieved. In other words, we need to face the question of ecumenism (Chapter 11). Ecumenism involves not just individuals but churches and other institutions as well. Thus it appears that institutions, like individuals, can have and maintain a Christian identity (Chapter 12). Institutions receive a good deal of criticism in our society because they seem by their very nature to impose certain restrictions on our freedom. Thus we must deal with the question of doctrinal and academic freedom (Chapter 13). Finally, Christianity can never take its place in any society for granted but must ever be ready to defend itself in appropriate ways. We call the defense of the faith apologetics (Chapter 14).
[page 118]
The commitment to ecumenism is an ecclesiastical -- or perhaps more broadly religious -- quest for unity. And unity, in our anxious and troubled world, is accepted as a deep need, for mankind is threatened with destruction. Andrei Sakharov, a Russian scientist and dissident intellectual, writes:
This awareness of the importance of unity has roots in precommunist Russian history. In his story about the "Grand Inquisitor," Dostoevsky speaks of "the craving for universal unity" and the desire of mankind to unite in "one unanimous and harmonious ant-heap." [NOTE 2] We are reminded of the tower of Babel, which is described for us as a "tower with its top in the heavens" (Genesis 11:4).
The failure of Christians in our time to achieve unity among themselves -- to say nothing of a broader unity involving non-Christians as well -- is widely regarded as "scandalous," as a barrier to Christian effectiveness. H. Richard Niebuhr writes: "The history of schism has been a history of Christianity's defeat. The
[page 119]
church which began its career with the promise of peace and brotherhood for a distracted world has accepted the divisions in the society it had hoped to transform and has championed the conflicts it had thought to transcend." [NOTE 3]
Various thinkers view identification with society or absorption by society as the key to the problem. Christianity has compromised itself especially by its close relationship with Western civilization. W.A. Visser 't Hooft therefore argues that the "... interpretation which considered Christianity as an ingredient of Western civilization and missions as an instrument of Western cultural penetration was itself the product of a relativistic and superficial approach to the fundamental issues of truth." [NOTE 4] As Western civilization finds itself confronting the rising non-Western nations with aspirations of their own, the image of Christianity as the religion of the West is proving an obstacle to worldwide Christian unity.
Unity is not the only strongly felt need of our time: another is certainty. What makes our current situation so difficult is that these two needs often seem incompatible. Our certainties create disunity, and when we put unity first we seem to have little room left for deeply held convictions.
One traditional way of dealing with this tension is to declare that there must be more than one road to truth. The fourth-century Roman statesman Symmachus, who was a proponent of paganism and an opponent of Christianity, declared:
What this means theologically is that there is more than one road to salvation. Hans Küng writes that the non-Christian religions must now be recognized as "ways of salvation" for many people: "... there is salvation outside the Church. In addition to particular, there can be seen a general, universal salvation history." [NOTE 6] Wilfred Cantwell Smith concurs, identifying all of human history with salvation history:
[page 120]
Another way of dealing with the tension between unity and certainty is syncretism, the effort to combine or synthesize various different religious traditions and principles, just as the Israelites in the days of Elijah and Ahab wanted to combine the worship of Jehovah with the worship of Baal. [NOTE 8] Syncretism, of course, presupposes that the religions standing over against one another make no claim to exclusive truth. Hence Visser 't Hooft writes that syncretism "... can only bring together the religions which do not . believe in specific, concrete revelation." [NOTE 9] Various Oriental religions are open to synthesis with other religions, but Christianity is not: as a religion of revelation, it resists any fusion with other religions.
The syncretist solution to the tension between unity and certainty presupposes that religion as such is inherently good and that all religions should therefore be favorably disposed toward one another, just as dedicated chess players have something in common and can understand one another in their fascination with this ancient game. But this presupposition is highly questionable. Elton Trueblood argues: "The notion that religion is intrinsically a good thing will not bear examination at all, for some religions, judged by their effect upon human lives, are radically evil." [NOTE 10]
Finally, it is questionable whether religions can be combined at all. Are religions made up of atoms or building blocks that can be separated and put together in new ways? Hendrik Kraemer argues against an atomistic approach and claims that we must "... take a religion as one whole body of religious life and expression, of which all the component parts are inseparably interrelated to each other and animated by the same apprehension of the totality of existence peculiar to it." He further explains:
[page 121]
Another factor in the tension between unity and certainty is the Christian claim about the centrality of Jesus Christ and of God's revelation to Israel. Commentators on Christianity sometimes speak of a "scandal of particularity"; it seems somehow arbitrary and unreasonable that God should reveal Himself to one nation in the ancient world, and not to others. And if only one, why the Hebrews rather than the cultivated Greeks? Furthermore, why was the time of the Roman empire favored with the incarnation? Wouldn't our age with its awesome network of communications have been more suitable? Kraemer writes: "The opinion is often heard that it would be detestable pride on the part of a Christian and a sample of mean thinking about God to suppose that He has 'limited' His revelation to Israel and left the other peoples destitute." [NOTE 12]
Various thinkers proclaim that the time for such an outlook is over. Wilfred Cantwell Smith rejects the "exclusivist position" and "religious isolationism." From a church document he quotes a sentence that greatly disturbs him: "Without the particular knowledge of God in Jesus Christ, men do not really know God at all." He dismisses any such claim as "arrogant" and "intolerant" and unworthy of a Christian. [NOTE 13] Brian Hebblethwaite talks about "the absence of a single starting point in the epistemology of religion." He advises: "... we cannot remain uncritically within the horizon of a single tradition ... Above all, we have to ask ourselves whether the unique and allegedly normative elements in any one particular tradition can really maintain their universality in a pluralistic religious world." [NOTE 14]
Theologians have developed a vehicle for relating various different religious traditions to Christianity to overcome the
[page 122]
"scandal" of Christianity's claim to exclusive truth. The Old Testament, as we saw earlier (pp. 70-1 above), serves as background and interpretive context for the Christ event and the revelation given in the New Testament. The early Christian apologists already suggested that the glories of Greek civilization (especially the philosophy of Plato) could be regarded as a providential preparation for the gospel. Greek philosophy would then be the background against which the New Testament is to be understood. Central to this development is the conception of the universal Logos developed by Justin Martyr (c. 100-165), which he then identified with the Word (Greek: logos) of John 1. All men receive the truth by way of the Logos, according to Justin. Avery Dulles comments: "Justin's doctrine of the universal Logos was to have an important future in helping theologians from Clement and Origen to Tillich and K. Rahner to relate Christianity to the other religions ..." [NOTE 15] Greek philosophy, according to Clement of Alexandria, was a pedagogue or "schoolmaster" used by God "... to bring the Hellenic mind, as the law brings the Hebrews, 'to Christ.'" [NOTE 16]
The model established here by the early apologists can be applied to thinkers and religious leaders of all sorts and has been used to build many bridges to and from Christianity. The universal Logos then functions as the "anonymous Christ" (see pp. 21-2 above) who reveals His name to certain people at a particular time and place in history but is at the same time active in all the nations, leading them to truth. Hans Küng writes:
Missionaries of our time have begun to relate non-Christian religious traditions to the New Testament as alternative Old Testaments, in effect, which then serve as pedagogues or schoolmasters to prepare the people in their part of the world for
[page 123]
the gospel. In this way it becomes possible to combine the various religions of the world: in time, presumably, the anonymous Christ would become fully known to those among whom He has worked unrecognized. Hendrik Kraemer writes that various Christians and missionaries with a "more or less relativist conception of Christianity" have thought along such lines. The result was that "... the doctrine that the 'sacred oracles' of the great non-Christian religions are the Old Testaments of China, India, etc., and validly take the place of the Jewish Old Testament as the document of the praeparatio evangelica [preparation for the gospel], easily found support." The question that Kraemer raises in the face of this development is ". . . where the unity of the Christian Church would remain if all religious and cultural heritages became the special Old Testaments of the various Christian Churches." [NOTE 18]
The type of Christianity or world-religion that would emerge from such a global synthesis might be expected to be truly tolerant. Yet a paradox confronts us here: the most tolerant people and points of view sometimes turn out to be surprisingly intolerant. Paul Sudhakar, an evangelist to the Hindus, observes: "Hinduism is tolerant, but Hindus are intolerant of the exclusiveness of the Christian preacher." He explains: "Hindu tolerance is based upon a philosophical principle that truth is never the monopoly of one religion, that there are different ways of knowing truth, that God can be known in many ways." [NOTE 19]
We see, then, that tolerance is not always what it appears to be. Elton Trueblood argues: "Carried to its logical limit ... the principle of absolute toleration would prohibit all evangelism." [NOTE 20] If all religious points of view are equally valid, appeals to change one's religion are not needed. This was apparently the conviction of M.K. Gandhi, who helped lead India to independence. Gandhi declared:
[page 124]
Hendrik Kraemer comments that Gandhi's "fundamental relativism" turns out to be a "militant absolutism." He explains: "Gandhi's notion about religions is that they are products of the national soil ... and that therefore it is incumbent on everyone to keep to his 'national' religion. The universal character of real religion and the problem of truth are entirely disregarded in this conception ..." [NOTE 22]
The restricted conception of mission work which Gandhi was prepared to tolerate has unfortunately been adopted by various missionary agencies. Christians who put orthopraxis in the place of orthodoxy tend to turn mission work into a medical, social, economic, and political program for the betterment of society as a whole. Hence it has been charged that ecumenical emphases and the prominence of the ecumenical movement are responsible for the "demise of evangelism." [NOTE 23]
Central to the reorientation in missions is the concept of "humanization," which enables missionaries to work for change without confronting people with the choice for or against Christ. Peter Beyerhaus writes that he is dismayed "... to see how naively current ecumenical missiology can take up the concept of humanization and put it one-sidedly into the center of its motivation and goal." The scandal of the gospel is avoided, as the concept of humanization helps us "... to find a field of common concern with Hindus, Moslems, Marxists and Humanists. For, according to the concept of the anonymous Christ extra muros Eeclesiae [outside the walls of the church] we are already sharing in Christ if we together with them work for the humanization of mankind." [NOTE 24]
It is no accident that our age, in which we witness so much confusion and disagreement about the meaning of the Christian faith, has a lively interest in Christology . All sorts of perspectives on Christ are being offered to us today. Sad to say, the question "Who is Jesus Christ?" is something of an embarrassment to worldwide ecumenism. James Hitchcock writes:
[page 125]
The exclusive Christ is removed as a barrier by being turned into either the "anonymous Christ" (functioning like Justin's universal Logos) or a mere human teacher and example for us -- one of the great men of the ages.
"What think ye of the Christ?" is the key question in religion and life. And Christian unity must have Christ at its center. The New Testament tells us: "Every spirit which confesses that Jesus. Christ has come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit which does not confess Jesus is not of God" (I John 4:2-3). Christ is essential to Christianity.
There are Christians who admit this but then offer us a strange recipe for Christian unity -- "No creed but Christ." Wouldn't this overcome all the differences between Christians? Anyone with a good knowledge of church history and the various disputes about the two natures of Christ and the relation of Christ to the Father (see Chapter 2 above) cannot help but dismiss such an approach as too simple. It is indeed a wonderful thing to pledge allegiance to Jesus Christ, but one must still be able to say who He is. Was He a Jewish religious genius, or was He God incarnate?
Specific Christian doctrine is often divisive. A self-conscious Calvinist has undeniable doctrinal differences with Lutherans, Arminians, and so forth. This state of affairs makes some Christians uncomfortable. They then declare that they are Christians in a non-specific sense, neither Calvinist nor Lutheran nor Arminian -- just Christian.
Children may be able to get by with being "just Christian" since they have not yet reflected seriously on the doctrinal points that divide Christians into creedal camps. For adults, however, it's not quite so simple. A mature, educated Christian must take some position or other on doctrinal issues, just as I have to wear a shirt of a certain color if I am to wear a shirt at all. I might want to avoid red and green and blue so as not to offend people who don't like those colors, but in the end I must make a choice. There are no shirts that are completely neutral with regard to color. The doctrinal traditions within Christianity are specific in much the same way.
[page 126]
If ecumenism is truly our goal and norm, we will not let the inevitable doctrinal differences rule out fellowship with Christians of other traditions, although it will surely hinder it somewhat. Ecumenism takes place on a personal, individual level when Christians in a certain neighborhood, representing various different churches, form a Bible study group together, or join in some way to be of Christian service.
It is important to note that the basis for the unity that is then achieved is not a common set of opinions or views on doctrinal matters. Indeed, when Christians seek one another out, there may be considerable difference between them with regard to doctrine. What holds such Christians together and makes it possible for them to feel one is that Christ has claimed them all for His own. The ultimate bond of unity is oneness in relation to Christ. Naturally, this is not to say that confessional unity cannot serve to strengthen Christian fellowship. The point is simply that Christ's claim on the believer takes priority. That's why fellowship is possible between Christians with markedly different convictions.
To emphasize ecumenism in this sense is to admit to a certain relativity in one's beliefs and doctrines. This is what the Calvinist does when he recognizes the Lutheran as a sincere believer and seeks fellowship with him. There are significant differences between Calvinism and Lutheranism, some of which have to do with Christology, but those differences should be regarded as open for discussion. The Calvinist naturally believes that the Lutheran is wrong on certain points, but he is willing to learn from him.
This openness must not be understood as relativism in the usual twentieth-century sense. The Calvinist regards his beliefs as relative and subject to change because they must always be tested against the ultimate, unchanging standard of God's Word, the unnormed norm. If the Lutheran can use the Bible to show the Calvinist that there are misconceptions or errors in his system of beliefs, change will be called for.
Such discussion should be regarded as genuinely ecumenical.
[page 127]
Different groups within the body of Christ talk together in an effort to learn from one another. They do not enter the discussion by forsaking their convictions but carry those convictions along, willing at every point to subject them to the standard of God's Word, which relativizes all our opinions and calls us to be tolerant of the convictions of other believers who claim to ground their views in Scripture.
If the convictions of believers are to be changed, it must be by persuasion and not by force. A Calvinist professor may not require of a Lutheran student that he agree with the Calvinist position, but it is reasonable to expect the Lutheran student to be able to state the Calvinist position and to be acquainted with the historical factors that helped to shape it. The doctrinal differences between Calvinism and Lutheranism have developed in history and cannot be properly understood by anyone who is ignorant of the relevant historical factors.
The Calvinist and the Lutheran, to stick with our example, need to participate in one another's history through sympathetic historical understanding. If we are to understand why a segment of the church developed the way it did, we must know what dangers and challenges it faced. To foster genuine ecumenism, Calvinists must study Luther's life and thought, while Lutherans ought to study Calvin in an effort to determine why he felt he had to disagree with Luther on certain points.
This emphasis on the continuing importance of the doctrinal and confessional traditions within Christianity should not be taken to mean that Christianity renounces any claim to universality or "universalism." Christianity is indeed a universal religion, but what does this mean? A.A. van Ruler writes: "The Israelite and Christian perspective is universalistic: at stake is the brotherhood of all men. But this can only be achieved if all the nations confess the God of Israel." [NOTE 26]
Submission to Israel's God and to Jesus Christ is the prerequisite for unity. But in the authority that belongs to Christ as King and Lord lies a universality and a possibility for a greater unity than has ever been realized. Christ is not just King of His church. Abraham Kuyper writes: "We misunderstand the kingship of
[page 128]
Christ if we seek it solely in the assembly of the believers. His kingship extends throughout all the world ..." [NOTE 27] We may speak of a unity of world history rooted in providence and in Christ's kingship.
The notion of Christ as the center and unifier of history has been transformed and secularized by philosophers, especially Hegelians and Marxists. We must be careful not to confuse Christ's kingship and unification of history with Hegel's "cunning of reason" and immanent eschatology in which the historical process itself brings forth unity and harmony. The vision of Christian universality calls for a different road to the consummation of history. Neither is revolution in the Marxist sense a prerequisite for establishing the Kingdom of God. The Christian instead appeals for reformation and for a submissive obedience to God's will and plan in history.
Christ will unify His people and establish His Kingdom universally -- but in His own time and His own way. The challenge in the area of ecumenism is to do what we can to help the process along, through both prayer and action.
Click here for the notes to Chapter 11.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
[page 129]
Religious intentions and commitments are normally associated with individual human beings: people, it seems, are religious, but cats, rocks, streets, and stars are not. Hence, when we talk about religious rights, prerogatives and freedoms, we are talking about human beings.
This might sound plausible, but it leaves various questions to be answered, questions that arise in connection with such institutions and social structures as churches, schools, and political parties. That churches can have religious intentions and commitments seems reasonable, but what about schools and political parties?
If we find this question difficult to discuss, it is because our thinking about society is largely individualistic. We saw in Chapter 7 that individualism and collectivism are the two dominant social philosophies: pluralism runs a poor third. Collectivism is implicitly totalitarian and tends to make all institutions and organizations branches or parts of the state. Individualism, which is dominant in the Anglo-American political tradition, fights back and defends the rights of the individual, including his freedom of religion.
The Reformation is often taken to be a milestone in the development of individualism because the Reformers successfully defied the wide-ranging authority of the medieval church. The Enlightenment, however, is the era in which individualism was given its classic formulation. The Enlightenment distrust of institutions, which is somewhat understandable given the social and political circumstances of the time, was to have an important impact on the shape of modern society.
Liberal Christianity was deeply influenced by the
[page 130]
Enlightenment and therefore developed a conception of religious rights and freedom which emphasized the danger of authoritarianism. The fear was that the integrity and spirituality of the individual would be stifled by oppressive control or by manipulation on the part of institutions. James Hitchcock observes: "... the history of modern liberal Christianity has been primarily a flight from everything in religion which is binding and powerful, everything which appears to restrict the full freedom of the individual." [NOTE l]
If our social philosophy in effect does not recognize institutions, regarding them as mere collections of individuals, it will have little to say about rights and freedoms for institutions. We see this reflected in how academic freedom is understood. One might suppose that academic freedom belongs to academic institutions, and that it represents their power and right to conduct their affairs in a manner which will, in their judgment, enable them to attain their goals. Not so. In a book on "academic freedom in our time," we read that academic freedom must not be attributed to the governing board, which is the institution in a corporate sense, for the board might then start making decisions about what is to be taught and how it is to be taught: "The academy is free when the scholars who make it are free, as scholars. And the academy is free when its governing board is free to protect and to advance this freedom." [NOTE 2] Likewise, in a book on academic freedom and tenure we are told: "Academic freedom is that freedom of members of the academic community, assembled in colleges and universities, which underlies the effective performance of their functions of teaching, learning, practice of the arts, and research." [NOTE 3]
This individualistic conception and use of academic freedom has led to protests in our time, some of them from Christians. Robert C. Sproul complains that academic freedom has become a "shibboleth" and argues: "... this freedom cannot extend to the point of autonomy if the purposes of a confessional institution are to be served. Yet it now seems to be considered an inalienable right of professors to teach whatever they want." [NOTE 4]
The individualism underlying our conception of rights and freedoms poses a problem for Christians, who must ask themselves whether our system of laws will allow Christian institutions to remain true to their commitment and identity. Does freedom of religion apply to institutions? What happens when a Protestant theology professor teaching in a Protestant institution converts to
[page 131]
Catholicism? May the institution dismiss him as no longer suitable for the task for which he was appointed? Or could the professor claim that such a dismissal would amount to religious discrimination against Catholics? How would a case of this type be dealt with in the courts? And what happens when children of a Christian family become orphans and wards of the state? May the state place them in an atheistic environment, or must it respect the wishes of the deceased parents that the children be raised as Christians?
Although most Christian educators claim to favor academic freedom in some form or another, their secular counterparts often argue that there can be no genuine academic freedom in a confessional or denominational college or university. [NOTE 5] Any "dogmatic" or "authoritarian" teaching is incompatible with academic freedom and the spirit of scientific inquiry. Charles William Eliot, who was president of Harvard University for forty years, maintained that the word education is "a standing protest against dogmatic education":
What Eliot calls "dogmatic" teaching is often referred to as indoctrination. This word has taken on some unpleasant connotations in our time and is therefore avoided by many people who do favor education in which authority plays an important role, education in which students are asked to accept certain ideas because some authority can be adduced to vouch for them. Sidney Hook sees relatively little place for indoctrination in a free society:
[page 132]
There are even Christians who object strongly to specifically Christian education in the sense of an attempt to persuade students of the correctness of Christian doctrine, dismissing any such effort as "authoritarian." [NOTE 8]
Almost all Christian educational institutions reject neutrality: they want to "teach Christianity" to their students. Their goal is to encourage Christian thinking and conduct. But to pursue this goal they must themselves be committed. How can a school be committed?
The commitment of a school is much like that of a church or denomination. In other words, some sort of statement of basis and purpose is essential. The purpose is to offer Christian education of a specific sort, and the basis officially adopted spells out what the school takes the term Christian to mean. Some schools speak of the statement of basic principles as an "educational creed." Various others use creeds which churches have adopted as doctrinal standards, such as the Westminster Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism.
It is sometimes argued that church creeds are inappropriate for schools because they deal with church matters. This argument misrepresents the great creeds of Christendom, for the creeds deal primarily with human life in its totality and only secondarily with specific ecclesiastical functions such as the administration of the sacraments. The major creeds certainly can serve to spell out a school's vision of the Christian life. On the other hand, it would be helpful if a school could include in its statement of basic principles what it takes education to be. Creedal statements, as we saw earlier, should not be too detailed and should not seek to rule on every issue; yet an "educational creed" surely ought to include some specific affirmations about education. The historic creeds of Christendom may have to be supplemented when used in a school setting. As for a statement of basic principles to be used by a Christian political party, it would need supplementary material regarding the political order.
If a Christian educational institution defines its objectives by means of a creed, exclusion of some sort will undoubtedly be called for, an exclusion of ideas and perhaps also of certain people
[page 133]
who hold them. The creed is supposed to direct the school: everything that goes on educationally ought to be in harmony with it. This raises the issue of toleration once again. The argument is often heard that Christians, of all people, should be models of tolerance.
John Locke, who has deeply influenced both Christians and non-Christians on this subject, argued that toleration is "the chief characteristic mark of the true church." Like John Stuart Mill two centuries later, Locke was convinced that the truth could survive without protection: "... the truth certainly would do well enough if she were once left to shift for herself." [NOTE 9]
Many believers involved in the governance of Christian educational institutions do not believe this is the case. They point to the secularizing of numerous Christian institutions and argue to the contrary that error does indeed drive out the truth. Therefore they insist on holding Christian schools and the teachers and professors who offer instruction within them to the identity officially adopted.
Christian institutions, like individual believers, have to struggle to remain faithful to their commitments and goals. In the process the toes of teaching personnel are sometimes stepped on. What sorts of measures are appropriate when dealing with teachers, professors and preachers who stray from the creedal basis of the school or church they serve? Thomas Oden, reflecting on this question as it arises in the church, maintains: "... there can and must be no punishment for heterodox teaching other than simply withholding of the religious body's approval or permission to preach. That cannot be an offense against a civil right, because the ordination to preach is not a civil right." [NOTE 10]
Oden's position is not a popular one in our tolerant, pluralistic society. Yet it is essentially what John Locke prescribed. The church, which he characterized as a "free and voluntary society," has the right to expel wayward members after first subjecting them to exhortation and admonition:
[page 134]
Many Christians are uneasy about excommunication, the deposition of clergymen, and the removal of professors from teaching offices. To be sure such disciplinary measures are not pleasant. One good reason for the uneasiness about discipline is that those whose teaching and preaching are regarded as incompatible with the commitments of the institution are sometimes mistreated. Our age is very sensitive to the mistreatment of individuals by institutions.
Edward Schillebeeckx and Hans Küng, two controversial Roman Catholic theologians against whom the Church has taken certain measures, draw a good deal of attention and sympathy for just this reason. Schillebeeckx has made it known that he believes his human rights are not being respected. [NOTE 12] This is surely a matter of concern: Christian churches should be models of fairness.
The question of fairness also comes up in connection with the way people who are expelled or excommunicated are treated in certain Anabaptist and Mennonite circles, where it is maintained that the offender must be "shunned." The Dordrecht Confession of Faith (1632), which serves some Mennonite churches as a doctrinal standard, declares:
The Confession states that the person being shunned must not be treated as an enemy: the excommunication is for his own good and is intended to lead him to repentance. In some circles, however, shunning was carried so far that it was ruled that a believer is to have no sexual relations with an excommunicated spouse. Thus the practice of excommunication does sometimes
[page 135]
lead to unfair treatment. Even the courts have gotten involved on occasion.
Conflicts in churches and Christian educational institutions are not always about personnel and appointments. To the extent that democratic decision-making is encouraged, there will inevitably be disagreement and a certain amount of skirmishing. We see nothing strange about the notion of political maneuvering in the nation's capital, but somehow we want to keep "politics" out of the church and Christian educational institutions. Declarations of unity often mask what is really going on.
The Catholic theologian Karl Rahner, who argues that we must think in terms of "free speech" in the church, maintains: "If there is, as there should be, a real public opinion within the Church, not merely an unthinking reflection of the Church's official views, a certain tension is likely to exist around all those matters that are subject to change and hence to free discussion." [NOTE 14]
The tension has increased considerably in the Roman Catholic Church since Rahner wrote these words. The Second Vatican Council (1962-65) led progressives to anticipate major changes. There were indeed changes, but they were less sweeping than the progressives had hoped for and expected. The result was a growing political dissatisfaction within Catholicism: the structures of the church were denounced as authoritarian and then increasingly ignored.
Rosemary Ruether speaks of an unofficial "existential schism" that has taken place within Catholicism. She writes: "Spiritually we are already in schism." [NOTE 15] There is a deep rift between the Catholic academy and the church hierarchy, she claims. What is needed is "the equivalent of the French Revolution in the Church, the deposing of a monarchical for a democratic constitution of the Church." Since this cannot be expected to happen, the progressives will have to promote pluralism in order to give themselves room to operate: "This means not just theological but ecclesiastical pluralism in the Church -- in effect, an internal schism." [NOTE 16]
This is frightening language, and the danger is by no means confined to Catholicism. "Ecclesiastical pluralism" and "internal
[page 136]
schism" are also taking hold in Protestant denominations. Clearly, politics and decision-making within the church need our careful consideration: we must not take it for granted that everything will go smoothly. Churches must ask themselves whether the system of church government they are using is adequate to our time.
Fear of fragmentation should not lead us to discourage all dissent and "political" activity within the church. There are responsible ways to go about these things, as Karl Rahner explains. Borrowing a comparison from British parliamentary democracy, he calls for "loyal" opposition and argues that "... there are circumstances in which people can have a real duty to speak their minds within the permitted limits and in a proper spirit of respect, even though this will not bring them praise and gratitude 'from above' (how many examples there are of this in the history of the saints!)." Rahner warns that the church must not create the impression "... that she is of the same order as those totalitarian states for whom outward power and sterile, silent obedience are everything and love and freedom nothing ..." [NOTE 17] In the church as in the state, power may not be regarded as an end in itself.
In our individualistic age, those who are out to reform or change the church sometimes use tactics that should not meet with our approval. When we contend for the faith, the end does not justify the means. In earlier eras, however, it was especially the institution, the church, that violated this principle. In its eagerness to maintain its identity and position of power, the church treated dissenters and heretics and rebels in ways of which we are ashamed today.
Augustine, who served as a bishop in the North African city of Hippo, helped to formulate the rationale for the harsh treatment of heretics. What it came down to is that the church knows better, just as a mother knows better than her impetuous two-year-old child who wants to play on the busy street in front of the house. Those who go wrong sometimes have to be restrained in their error -- if only for the sake of others whom they might mislead. Augustine eventually came to the conclusion that the state should take action against heretics.
The darkest episode in the mistreatment of heretics was the
[page 137]
medieval Inquisition. The Inquisition was established by Pope Gregory IX in 1231 to keep political considerations out of the picture as much as possible when the charge of heresy was raised. Yet there was a good deal of corruption among the inquisitors, to say nothing of the cruelty first in the investigation and then in the punishment of convicted heretics. If the punishment was execution, it was carried out by the state. The Inquisition was active mainly in certain parts of Europe where the threat of heresy and rebellion was great; later it was used against witches.
Mistreatment of heretics was by no means limited to Catholicism. Perhaps the most famous heretic ever to be executed was Michael Servetus, who was burned at the stake in Calvinist Geneva in 1553 because of his rejection of the doctrine of the Trinity. Calvin agreed that Servetus ought to die, but he urged a less painful mode of execution.
Servetus was only one of hundreds of heretics and Anabaptists executed by Protestant authorities. Yet his case has come to symbolize a flaw in the thinking of the Reformers. Calvinism paid dearly for this mistake, which has exposed it to much scorn and harsh criticism over the years. Hendrik Van Loon, for example, writes:
The Servetus story should not be swept under the carpet; the mistake must be frankly admitted. Thomas Oden writes: "... anyone who risks digging up the thorny question of heresy must be willing to learn from the chequered history of its abuse. To make good on this commitment, Christians today must be willing to work as hard as anyone to preserve political toleration for unpopular religious views." [NOTE 19]
We must not act superior, however, as we look back at Christian forbears who took strong measures against heretics. Even though their actions are not ultimately excusable, they are certainly
[page 138]
understandable to some extent. Remember that Paul advised: "As for a man who is factious [Greek: hairetikon], after admonishing him once or twice, have nothing more to do with him, knowing that such a person is perverted and sinful; he is self-condemned" (Titus 3: 10-11). Elsewhere he warned against "party spirit" (Greek: haireseis) as one of the "works of the flesh" and added: "I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God" (Galatians 5:19-21).
Heresy, then, was long taken to be not just sinful but downright dangerous. In the Middle Ages it was sometimes compared to disease: public health measures were called for. Heresy was not simply disagreement but dissension, rebellion, a threat to society. Carey McWilliams writes: "The basis of heresy has always consisted in a challenge to the existing order." [NOTE 20]
The heretics -- or some of them, at least -- made such nuisances of themselves that something had to be done, but by whom? The church and the state, instead of dealing with the question of tolerance separately, mixed and confused their roles. The church began to determine who the disturbers of the peace were and then either punished them herself or turned them over to the state to be dealt with. No proper separation of the functions of church and state, which is the key to solving the problem of tolerance, had been worked out.
Absolute tolerance was -- and is -- out of the question. The church today is sometimes compelled to remove a person from a teaching or preaching office, and the state cannot tolerate conspiracy to subvert the political process and replace it with a dictatorship or foreign rule. Even academic freedom has certain limits. The philosopher Arthur Lovejoy, who helped to formulate the modern conception of academic freedom, argued that since members of the Communist Party are committed to overthrowing academic freedom, they should not be allowed to hold teaching positions. [NOTE 21]
Yet to be considered is another major reason why the church must be very careful not to get carried away in its campaign against the threat posed by heretics. The Thirty-Nine Articles of the Church of England affirm that even though "sometimes the evil have chief
[page 139]
authority in the Ministration of the Word and Sacraments," God's grace and His message to us come through. If we receive the sacraments in faith, they will "... be effectual, because of Christ's institution and promise, although they be ministered by evil men." [NOTE 22] A baby baptized by a heretic or a hypocrite need not be rebaptized.
The stand taken here in the Thirty-Nine Articles goes back to a controversy in Augustine's lifetime. One of the heresies Augustine faced was Donatism, the view that the sacraments are not valid if administered by an unworthy priest. Augustine's response to this view brought out the centrality and sovereignty of divine grace, which was a point he loved to emphasize. God could work even through a heretic! Augustine maintained that the sacrament is valid unless the recipient is spiritually unprepared; purity is not required in the priest. Here we think of the high priest Joshua in Zechariah's vision standing before the angel of the Lord "clothed with filthy garments" (see Zechariah 3).
Heresy, then, is a threat to the institutional identity and commitment of Christian churches and schools, but the heretic's capabilities are not to be overestimated. God remains sovereign: the purposes of His grace will be fulfilled despite the heretic -- and perhaps even through him!
Click here for the notes to Chapter 12.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
[page 140]
Much of our society is animated by an ancient faith -- the commitment to reason. And reason takes on concrete form in science. Some critics complain that science has gotten modern man into serious difficulty with regard to the pollution of the environment, to take one problem as an example. The usual response is that if science has created the problem, it will also have to solve it. After all, where else could we look for a solution?
If science is to be effective, it must be free. Intellectual freedom or freedom of thought, freedom to form one's own views, is widely regarded as fundamental to the progress that has been made in the Western world. Where science is fettered, as in the Communist world, there are fewer scientific and technological breakthroughs.
The plea for intellectual freedom goes back a long way in history. The poet John Milton cried: "Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties." [NOTE 1] Today we hear eloquent, impassioned defenses of academic freedom.
What is academic freedom? Arthur Lovejoy, one of the thinkers responsible for the development of the American conception of academic freedom, defined it as follows:
[page 141]
In upholding academic freedom we are protecting the university, which is a very special institution in our society. Henry Steele Commager characterizes it as a "citadel of reason" and "the least corrupt institution in American life." He compares the university to the church, for it is "... the one institution that associates us with the past and the future, the one institution that has, through all of our history, served, or tried to serve, the interests of the whole of mankind or the interests of truth." [NOTE 3] The university is also a shining symbol of hope for Robert MacIver. He tells us that part of the university's legacy is "the substitution of reason for passion in the treatment of controversial issues." [NOTE 4] The Greek distrust of feeling, emotion and passion (see p. 40 above) lives on in our universities.
Does such a conception of the university leave room for a Christian university in which confessional commitments play a directing role in scholarship? MacIver answers this question with a firm no, arguing that a Christian basis would lead to a "total perversion" of the function of the university. "To make the university a center for the propagation of any creed, of any system of values that divides group from group, is to destroy the special quality and the unique mission of the university as a center for the free pursuit of knowledge wherever it may lead." [NOTE 5] Walter Metzger defends the same point of view and uncovers the ultimately religious significance of science and the university in our culture:
Christians today are too quick to agree with such claims. It is true that some academic institutions have been held back because of closed-mindedness on the part of Christian trustees and administrators, whether Presbyterian or Lutheran or Catholic. Yet this should not lead us to completely renounce the notion of a
[page 142]
directing role for faith or revelation in science. However many misconceptions there may be, however many short-cuts Christians may have tried to take in the past, the question of a Christian science remains open. There is still much to be said on the subject.
Severe cntIcs of Christianity claim that religious commitments leave no room for genuine scientific and scholarly work. They argue that consequently there can be no such thing as free, living Christian theology. For the Christian everything is cut-and-dried; all the issues were settled centuries ago. If anything genuinely new, is proposed, it is automatically branded heresy.
Such a line of argument misrepresents Christianity, to say the least, for there is exegetical, doctrinal and theological freedom within the Christian tradition. Theologians recognize that various passages in Scripture seem to be open to two or more conflicting interpretations, and so they disagree openly with one another. Moreover, Bible study is never purely an attempt to get at a meaning formulated thousands of years ago: an application to our time is sought. Dorothee Sölle therefore calls for "existential interpretation" of Scripture, arguing that "... there is no such thing as faith untranslated." [NOTE 7]
This notion of "translation" is important for the work of the church, for preaching and evangelizing. W.H. Velema observes: "For the sake of our own youth and those who are outside the church, we will indeed have to 'translate' the Biblical message. Translating does not mean transforming but interpreting in a clear, contemporary manner." [NOTE 8]
Okke Jager adds a word of caution, however. We may not simply throw out the Bible's comparisons and examples as we "translate." They are and remain part of the Biblical message:
[page 143]
There is not just exegetical freedom in the church; there is also doctrinal and theological freedom. Many Christians tend to overestimate the danger of free theological discussion. Abraham Kuyper, however, in a lengthy work devoted to the nature of theology, argued that the theologian -- as theologian -- should not feel too constricted by the church's confessional stance. Kuyper maintained that the theologian is called to render a distinct service to the church by the exercise of his freedom:
Kuyper, of course, distinguished theology, as a scientific or scholarly activity, from doctrine or dogma or confession. Theology has undergone a slow growth and will never be complete: "... as a science it can never be at a standstill, but will always advance without ever being able to reach completion." [NOTE 11]
Kuyper's conception of the freedom of the theologian in relation to the church's confession is significant. The theologian must respect the confession as clothed with the authority of the church: he "... should not undervalue the confession of his Church, as if in it a mere opinion presented itself to him over against which, if equal if not with better right, he might place his opinion. " [NOTE 12] The theologian must take the confession very seriously, but he must also test it against Scripture as the ultimate norm. In this regard he serves the church.
Kuyper's emphasis on freedom must not be misunderstood.
[page 144]
Theology is free from the church in that it is not essentially an ecclesiastical activity; it has a character and integrity of its own. But for Kuyper this did not mean that a theological professor is free to do as he pleases: Kuyper was also very conscious of the right of an institution or organization to stick to a course to which it had committed itself. Thus he wrote:
Protestantism can speak of doctrinal freedom because its confessions and creeds are historical documents and are therefore recognized as fallible and subject to the Word of God, the unnormed norm. Veneration for the creeds is sometimes carried too far in Protestant circles, but the best Protestant thinkers have always known how to subordinate the creeds to Scripture. The creeds have an important pedagogical function in that they help and guide believers in their reading of Scripture. Yet, even though they shed light on Scripture, in the final analysis they are to be judged and corrected by Scripture. The pedagogical priority they enjoy for many believers does not make them ultimately authoritative.
For Protestantism there is no ultimate authority other than the Word of God. This emphasis is sometimes summed up by means of a phrase used by Paul Tillich -- "the Protestant principle." All of the church's creeds, practices, statements, and actions are subject to judgment. "The Protestant principle," writes Tillich, "implies a judgment about the human situation, namely, that it is basically distorted." It is a "permanent criterion of everything
[page 145]
temporal." Just as Luther and the original "protesters" opposed the Catholic majority, the Protestant principle "... contains the divine and human protest against any absolute claim made for a relative reality, even if this claim is made by a Protestant church. The Protestant principle is the judge of every religious and cultural reality, including the religion and culture which calls itself 'Protestant.'" [NOTE 14]
Calvinism has long expressed this same point by means of the familiar statement that the work of reformation is never finished: a reformed church is always a reforming church. That's why her theologians must be free to look critically at her confessions and creeds, as Kuyper observed. And changes are sometimes made in the confessions: they are not absolute but are subject to the constant test of God's Word. The Belgic Confession, which serves as a doctrinal standard in various Reformed churches, originally stated that it is the task of the government to "... remove and prevent all idolatry and false worship, that the kingdom of antichrist may thus be destroyed and the kingdom of Christ promoted." In the twentieth century various churches concluded that this conception of the government's task is unbiblical, even though it has long been part of the confession, and therefore removed these words from the article on government. [NOTE 15] The creed was corrected!
Although in principle Christianity supports and demands doctrinal freedom, there have been serious clashes between the doctrines of the church and the findings of science. The most famous case is the Roman Catholic Church's condemnation of Galileo (1564-1642) for defending the heliocentric conception of the universe. When the ecclesiastical officials were done with their investigation of Galileo, they condemned him for holding "... the doctrine which is false and contrary to the Sacred and Divine scriptures, that the sun is the center of the world and does not move from east to west and that the earth moves and is not the center of the world." [NOTE 16]
There has been a good deal of discussion of this puzzling and painful controversy. Jerome J. Langford concludes his book on the subject by observing: "The mistakes made on both sides in
[page 146]
Galileo's conflict with authority have much to teach us. It is obvious that we still have much to learn." [NOTE 17] Hans Küng regards the treatment meted out to Galileo as a catastrophe of the first magnitude:
It is certainly doubtful whether the proper lesson has been learned. Centuries afterward Christians continued to take one or another simple-minded approach to the question of science and religion. Some still subordinated science to theology, thereby stripping the non-theological scholar of his academic freedom, and his discipline of its integrity. Others went much too far in the opposite direction, assuring us that there could not be a conflict between Christian teaching and the results served up by science, for both were seeking God's truth. Daniel Coit Gilman, the first president of the Johns Hopkins University, the university that led the way in the development of graduate education in the United States, took the latter approach, arguing: "Religion claims to interpret the word of God, and science to reveal the laws of God. The interpreters may blunder, but truths are immutable, eternal, and never in conflict." [NOTE 19] For Gilman, religion thus had nothing to fear from science and the university. But his university, like so many other prominent institutions founded and led by Christians, became secular. There was more to the question of academic freedom and the relation of science to religion than Gilman realized.
Both Christians and secular Humanists claim to be in favor of academic freedom, even if they do not define such freedom in the same way. Yet there is some overlap in meaning. When Fritz Machlup speaks of "the toleration of honest error" as the "essence of intellectual freedom," [NOTE 20] both the Christian and the secular Humanist can agree: there must be room for honest error if science is to progress.
[page 147]
To spell out what academic freedom is and is not, certain distinctions must be made; otherwise misconceptions will linger on. Academic freedom might be misconstrued as a form of freedom of speech. Not long after its founding, the University of Chicago, another leader in the development of graduate-level education, declared: "... the principle of complete freedom of speech of all subjects has from the beginning been regarded as fundamental in the University of Chicago ..." This principle, the University went on to state, was never to be called into question. [NOTE 21]
Is academic freedom then some sort of civil right? Is it the right of every professor to say whatever he pleases as he instructs his students? This would hardly be an adequate conception or definition, for we cannot ascribe academic freedom to every citizen. Sidney Hook argues:
To grasp Hook's point, we must make a clear distinction between the state on the one hand and the university or academy on the other. We can speak of academic freedom only in relation to the academy; no such freedom is granted or guaranteed by the state. And academic freedom is not freedom of opinion. Not even the most liberal university would allow a physics professor to teach students utterly absurd ideas about the physical structure of the universe.
Earlier we saw that a clear distinction must be made between the church and the state if the question of tolerance is to be dealt with properly. The state is obliged to tolerate things that a church need not tolerate. A Presbyterian church, for example, might depose or dismiss a clergyman for holding Catholic views, but it would be improper for the state to take any sort of action against him. The state would be obliged to ignore his doctrinal differences with Presbyterianism, whereas the church could take no
[page 148]
other action against him than to remove him from office and conceivably from its fellowship altogether.
To deal with the academic freedom question, we must distinguish the church and state contexts from one another and then from the school context. The Christian ideal of academic freedom means freedom from both church and state control. This was the idea behind the founding of the Free University of Amsterdam in 1880, and the same principle has led to the rise of a system of North American Christian day schools that are free from both church and state.
What are the main outlines of a Christian conception of academic freedom? This question can be handled in three points, by distinguishing between the academic freedom of educational institutions, of professors, and of students.
First of all, Christian educational institutions enjoy academic freedom in that they are not -- or should not be -- controlled by either the state or the church. A church may operate a theological seminary for the training of pastors or an institution for training lay workers of various sorts, but full-fledged Christian scholarly activity ought to be carried on in institutions that concern themselves specifically with education and scholarship and do not subordinate their interests to those of the business world or of government or of the church.
As far as the professors are concerned, there are three points to be made. First, the academic freedom of the professor is his freedom to learn from anyone -- not just from approved sources and authorities. Here it is helpful to remember Augustine's comparison with the children of Israel leaving Egypt: they took with them the treasures of the Egyptians which they claimed for themselves "as if to put them to a better use." [NOTE 23] We should bear in mind, however, that when Christian scholars learn from their secular counterparts, they are not necessarily picking up what secular thinkers might want to teach them. One can learn from bad examples and from mistakes, including the mistakes of others. A great philosopher like Hegel may be fundamentally wrong, but what is important is that he is profoundly wrong. There is much more to be learned from him than from a mediocre
[page 149]
thinker who is also wrong.
Secondly, the Christian professor, because he teaches at the college level, must be left free in the organization, arrangement and selection of the materials he deals with. The standardization of curriculum common in elementary school is not appropriate at the college or university level. The prerogatives of the professor, as a specialist in the field which he is teaching, must be respected. A board of trustees should not dictate how a philosophy professor is to teach a course in the history of medieval philosophy.
Thirdly, the Christian professor must be left free to develop his own program of research and writing. Inquiries and suggestions are appropriate, but the scholar should determine for himself where his calling lies. All adult believers enjoy the Christian liberty of serving where they believe they have been called. This general principle must not be forgotten when it comes to Christian scholarship: there are many worthwhile projects that could be undertaken, but the scholar must make a choice, a choice for which he is directly responsible to God.
As for the students, finally, there are two aspects to be distinguished in their academic freedom. First, Christian students on the college and university level should share in the shaping and planning of their program of study. Secondly, they are to make up their own minds about theoretical issues. A professor may require of them that they learn and be able to state certain views and theories which he chooses to include in his course, but he may not require them to hold to his own views, or any other set of views, for that matter. A professor who violates this principle encroaches on the student's integrity. Agreement with the professor may never be a requirement for passing a course or receiving a good grade.
Academic freedom is well worth fighting for. Free theology benefits the church, and free science serves life. But we must be careful to keep these connections in mind, or we may wind up regarding freedom as an end in itself, which is what modern Humanism does when it interprets freedom as autonomy, as man's drive for self-actualization. Hans Küng sums up the modern outlook as follows: "Man today is expected to liberate himself. Emancipation as man's self-determination as opposed to authority
[page 150]
accepted in blind faith, to unauthorized dominion, is necessary: freedom from natural constraint, social constraint, from the self-constraint of the person who has not come to terms with himself." [NOTE 24]
The Bible presents us with a rather different perspective and asks us to be willing to subordinate our freedom -- including our academic freedom -- to others. Our freedom has a purpose. Paul writes: "You were called to feedom, brethren; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love be servants of one another" (Galatians 5:13).
Even this orientation toward the other is not the last word. Our exercise of freedom must be placed in a still wider context. Paul also writes: "So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do [academic work is not exempted], do all to the glory of God" (I Corinthians 10:31). This is the same note struck by the Westminster Shorter Catechism, which opens with the question: "What is the chief end of man?" The memorable answer reads: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever." [NOTE 25]
Click here for the notes to Chapter 13.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
[page 151]
When we turn to the subject of apologetics, we face a paradoxical situation: this discipline, which is often understood as an effort to justify Christian belief, is itself in need of justification in our time. Apologetics has acquired a bad reputation. Robert Nowell writes that it is now widely regarded as "an unconvincing defence of the indefensible, a rehearsal of plausible excuses for the sins of the Church's past life, a polemical exercise conducted on a fiercely partisan and denominational basis." [NOTE 1]
Apologetics is widely associated with argument, which sets people apart. Since our age seems to value unity more than certainty, it does not care to hear arguments. Instead of working out ways to deal with disputes, we often ignore them.
There are various considerations underlying the unpopularity of apologetics. Three of them will be dealt with here. The first is that the apologist often gives away or concedes too much. He is like an ambassador who has been posted for too long in a dazzling foreign capital: the time finally comes when the government he represents begins to wonder whose side he is on. The Christian apologist, as an ambassador to the world of science and culture, sometimes seems to switch allegiance and may even wind up defending the inherent goodness of the world of science and culture.
When an ambassador assumes his responsibilities in a foreign capital, he forsakes his own soil and takes up residence outside his country. The role of the apologist is often conceived of in similar terms. Edgar Y. Mullins sums up the task of the defender of Christianity as follows: "It is to establish the Christian position by means of the principles of investigation employed by the
[page 152]
opposition, so far as those principles are valid." [NOTE 2] The defender of the faith moves on to his opponent's turf, as it were; he begins by seeking common ground.
This strategy has been criticized by leading Christian thinkers. In a discussion of the struggle between Christianity and modernism, Abraham Kuyper complains: "In this struggle apologetics have not advanced us one single step. Apologists have invariably begun by abandoning the assailed breastwork ..." [NOTE 3] J. Gresham Machen worries about all the concessions that are made: "In trying to remove from Christianity everything that could possibly be objected to in the name of science, by trying to bribe off the enemy by those concessions which the enemy most desires, the apologist has really abandoned what he started out to defend." Machen draws a lesson from this: "... the things that are sometimes thought to be hardest to defend are also the things that are most worth defending." [NOTE 4]
Christian apologists are not the only ones to make this mistake. C.G. Jung, whom Freud branded a "heretic" for deviating from orthodox psychoanalysis (see p. 86 above), also followed the strategy of concession when he was invited to give some lectures in the United States. In a letter he explained his strategy to Freud, who later commented: "Jung boasted ... that his modifications of psycho-analysis had overcome the resistances of many people who had hitherto refused to have anything to do with it. I replied that that was nothing to boast of, and that the more he sacrificed of the hard-won truths of psycho-analysis the more would he see resistances vanishing." [NOTE 5] Christian apologists would do well to ponder this exchange between Jung and Freud as they consider how to present the "scandal" of the gospel to an unbelieving world.
Some of the suspicions raised about apologists are justified, but this should not lead us to abandon apologetics altogether. A better conclusion to draw would be that we must be careful in how we defend the gospel. Should ground be given up? Robert Knudsen declares simply: "One ought to defend the Christian faith without taking a position outside of that faith." [NOTE 6]
A second reason for the bad reputation of apologetics is that
[page 153]
various people regard it as intellectually dishonest. The famous definition of metaphysics as "the finding of bad reasons for what we believe upon instinct" [NOTE 7] could also be applied to apologetics, which might then be regarded as a lawyer's brief aimed more at persuasion than at truth.
Many of the pluralist defenses of Christianity fall into this category. If pluralism turns out to be a gentle relativism, how can it serve as a justification of the Christian faith? I can well understand why people sometimes regard the pluralist rhetoric uttered by Christians as hypocritical or less than honest. As I indicated, the good points being made by way of the language of pluralism can better be formulated in terms of the Christian conception of tolerance in the political sphere.
Dishonest defenses of Christianity can easily lead outsiders to view Christianity as an ideology, and it is indeed characterized as such on occasion. [NOTE 8] What we call theology is for some opponents of Christianity simply an ideology, a justification and rationalization of the economic, social and political position of dominance achieved by the Western world, and more specifically by certain groups within our society. Ideology, in the ears of many, is an ugly word. Lewis Feuer observes that all ideologies "tend to become authoritarian." [NOTE 9] Hannah Arendt shows us more of the dark side of ideology when she argues that all ideologies contain "totalitarian elements," even if they are fully developed only by totalitarian movements. [NOTE 10]
Such objections can be countered to some extent, although they are not entirely without justification. We should take them as a reminder not to slip into intellectual dishonesty when we engage in apologetics, and also as a warning not to make Christian thinking appear to be a rationalization and justification of our economic, social and political position. In the light of the Christian message about human sinfulness, we, too, stand condemned.
A third major objection to apologetics is that it is too intellectualistic: it seems to assume that people can be argued into accepting and believing the gospel. Herman Bavinck warns against the "exaggerated expectations" sometimes aroused by apologetics, "... as though by reason it could change the heart and through
[page 154]
argumentation could cultivate piety." [NOTE 11] Abraham Kuyper concurs and warns against the "gross error" of viewing reasoning as the foundation (grondslag) for faith. [NOTE 12]
Such an approach would clearly place too much emphasis on rationality and would denigrate other aspects of the life of the mind. G.K. Chesterton argues that reason by itself, with nothing to balance it, easily turns into insanity:
In the face of this overemphasis on reason Chesterton calls us to mysticism: "Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have mystery you have health ..." Mystery even plays an important role in explanation and gaining a proper outlook on life. Chesterton tells us that the secret of mysticism is that "... man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand. The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious, and everything else becomes lucid." [NOTE 14] The will of God may be a mystery to us, but we must make it our starting point in understanding this world.
The danger of madness is not the only objection to the excessive emphasis on reason of which many apologists are guilty. A more significant danger is that the rational approach may lead to the erection of a natural theology. Herman Bavinck observes that such a course has been taken by many Protestant thinkers, who sought proofs for God's existence and for the truths of divine revelation: "The conviction that the proofs [for God's existence] were sufficient to bring about at least a human faith contributed unwittingly to the emancipation of reason from faith and to the placing of the dogmas of natural theology and of holy Scripture outside saving faith." This led to rationalism in the Protestant churches. The eventual result was:
[page 155]
Such an approach to Christianity is indeed too intellectualistic. Again, we should take the criticism of apologetics as a timely warning. But it is not by itself a reason to forsake the apologetic task.
If there is indeed an apologetic task that remains, what does it consist of? What, exactly, is apologetics? A good place to begin looking for an answer is the Bible. The text that is usually quoted is: "Always be prepared to make a defense to anyone who calls you to account for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and reverence" (I Peter 3:15).
In the light of this text we can say that apologetics, generally speaking, is the explanation and defense of the Christian faith. We might best regard this task as having three separable divisions or aspects within it. Let us look at them one by one.
First of all, the apologist seeks to deal with misapprehensions about Christianity and unjustified charges that might arise. In a history of apologetics we read: "The earliest apologists were primarily concerned with obtaining civil toleration for the Christian community -- to prove that Christians were not malefactors deserving the death penalty." [NOTE 16]
Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion can also be viewed as an apologetic work in this sense. In Calvin's day Protestants were persecuted and mistreated in many parts of Europe. Wild accusations swirled in the air. Calvin therefore attached to his Institutes a "prefatory address" to King Francis I of France in which he declared: "... our adversaries cry out that we falsely make the Word of God our pretext, and wickedly corrupt it. By reading our confession you can judge according to your prudence not only how malicious a calumny but also what utter effrontery this is."
Yet this apologetic treatise, like so many others, was not meant
[page 156]
for outsiders only: it also proved valuable for instructing believers about Christian doctrine. Calvin had this additional purpose in mind all along. [NOTE 17]
A second aspect of the apologetic task is somewhat neglected nowadays -- historical apologetics. There is a battle of ideas going on around us, a battle for men's minds and hearts. Countless books, essays and articles are written for and against the various world views and outlooks that compete for our allegiance. This means that a great deal is written about Christianity and its history -- much of it false.
We need historical apologetics to set the record straight. Christianity would be well served if fresh accounts of various episodes and aspects of history could be written. We are often told, for example, that Christianity encouraged and called for the exploitation of nature that has given rise to global pollution. This charge represents a misunderstanding of Biblical teaching and Christian history, and therefore needs refutation by a historical apologist.
Augustine's greatest work, The City of God, can be read as historical apologetics. Augustine lived in the declining days of the Roman empire, when Christianity was being blamed for many of the ills of the time, especially by Romans who wanted to return to the old paganism. Recognizing the potential for great harm to the Christian cause, Augustine wrote his massive account of the two cities and their history to set the historical record straight.
Professional historians often criticize this kind of history, especially as practiced by Orosius, a protege of Augustine who wrote a Christian world history in the same vein. Historians appeal for objectivity and claim that the historian must not have an ax to grind, a point he is trying to prove. To the extent that they are right in appealing for objectivity -- and their account of objectivity might well be called into question -- we could answer this charge by distinguishing clearly between historical science as such and historical apologetics. The Christian historian should indeed strive for fairness and impartiality when he undertakes to write the history of a certain country or period. What this means, in effect, is that he must not approach the research phase of his work with his conclusions already formulated, although he may well have a
[page 157]
working hypothesis in mind. But this does not mean that a Christian historian may not also serve on occasion as a historical apologist. He might choose, for example, to write a biography of John Calvin with the express purpose of refuting some of the absurd accusations made against Calvin.
So far we have distinguished two aspects of the apologetic task. First, the apologist clearly explains Christian teaching in order to clear up misconceptions and thereby win greater toleration for Christians. Secondly, he sets the historical record straight by refuting unjust charges and providing an alternative account of events in which justice is done to the Christian cause. What happened during the Inquisition is clearly indefensible, but it was not quite as wicked and corrupt as some secular historians would have us believe.
The third aspect of the apologetic task is attack on the alternatives to Christianity offered by the modern mind. Various thinkers present Christianity as arbitrary and absurd, while Humanism is completely responsible and unproblematic, involving no hidden presuppositions. If such characterizations of the choice facing man today are not challenged and countered, they will do much harm to the Christian cause.
The Christian thinker most often associated with such an approach to apologetics is Emil Brunner. Peter Vogelsanger explains that apologetics, for Brunner, is "the attack of faith on the strongholds of disbelief." What is attacked, more specifically, is the "natural self-understanding in which man entrenches himself against God's claim. " [NOTE 18] Given the many forms of Humanistic and anti-Christian thinking flourishing in our age, this aspect of the apologetic task represents a very significant project requiring a major infusion of the Christian community's resources.
In various sports it is said that the best defense is a good offense. This is the strategy behind apologetics as critique of modern thinking. Without this kind of response to the modern challenge, Christianity may wind up sounding too defensive. The philosophies of our day must be shown to rest on arbitrary assumptions and choices. Cornelius Van Til has done valuable work in this area.
[page 158]
What does it mean to contend for the faith? Part of the answer, surely, is that we fight for our beliefs by engaging in apologetics. Christians were slow to learn that they are not to use the power of the sword to advance the gospel, but they quickly saw the potential in the power of the pen, and thus it can be said that apologetics is as old as Christianity. The battle in which we are to engage on behalf of the faith is a spiritual battle, and it is fought with spiritual weapons.
Does this battle also rage inside the church? Brunner evidently thinks so. We cannot draw a clear line to separate heresy inside the church from disbelief outside the church. Vogelsanger, expounding Brunner, writes: "Just as dogmatic theology is constantly necessary as an encounter of faith with the heresy in the church, apologetics is necessary as a constant encounter with disbelief in the world, and, as disbelief persistently infiltrates from the world, it is also necessary in the church." [NOTE 19]
Abraham Kuyper used a different name for the kind of theology that does battle for the truth within the church: he called it polemics. The task of polemics, he writes, is "... to defend the confessed truth over against error, the orthodox confession over against the heterodox one, and to demonstrate the untenability of heresy." [NOTE 20] Perhaps the term polemics can best be reserved for disputes between those who call themselves Christians, while apologetics could refer to the encounter of Christianity with explicitly non-Christian ways of thinking.
This raises the question of the place of apologetics in relation to theology generally. There is one major thinker, Karl Barth, who does not believe that apologetics and theology (or dogmatics) should be separated at all: dogmatics should include the polemic and apologetic task. (His reasons for taking this position are bound up with his discontinuous, existentialistic conception of revelation.) Barth, as dogmatician, has not been afraid to confront the non-Christian thinkers.
Such an issue is hard to settle because there is always something
[page 159]
arbitrary about how we use words. For many people today, the term theology simply means Christian reflection about everything and anything. When the term is so used, of course, it includes apologetics. But I prefer to use it in a more restricted sense in which we leave room for other branches of Christian thought, other Christian scholarly disciplines. I believe there is a good deal to be said for the definition of theology offered by James Smart: "Theology is the careful systematic investigation of the problem of truth and error in the church's message and principles." [NOTE 21]
Various Christian thinkers maintain that apologetics or inquiry into "Christian evidences" for God's existence and for the truth of the Bible plays a foundational role with respect to theology: theology is to be erected on the groundwork laid by apologetics. Clark Pinnock, for example, warns against "fideism" and argues: "Faith rests upon an attested and authenticated revelation. The task of apologetics is to ground the truth claim of the gospel." [NOTE 22] This was also the position of Benjamin B. Warfield, one of the best known of the Princeton Calvinists.
Although Warfield was on friendly terms with Kuyper and Bavinck, these two Dutch Calvinist theologians did not agree with him on this matter. Bavinck argued: "Apologetics cannot precede faith and does not try to prove the truth of revelation a priori." [NOTE 23] More simply: "Apologetics is the fruit, never the root, of faith." [NOTE 24]
This is not to say that Bavinck and Kuyper recognized no task for apologetics. The point is simply that they assigned to apologetics and to reason generally a less elevated place than many other Christian thinkers did. A distinction made by John Baillie can help us here: "... the clearing away of obstacles, and especially of obstacles which have no right to be there, is a different process from the laying of a sure foundation ..." [NOTE 25] Apologetics, to stick with the analogy, is not part of the edifice of theology.
This distinction between theology (or dogmatics) and apologetics can help us deal with a much-misunderstood charge hurled at Christianity. We are sometimes told that Christianity is not so much false as irrelevant: Christian teaching represents a series of answers to questions that modern man no longer asks. If modern
[page 160]
man does not know what the questions are, that is, if Christianity's questions are no longer questions for him, how can the answers possibly mean anything to him?
It must be admitted that there is something to this charge: many people today simply do not and cannot understand traditional Christian teaching. But from this admission we should not draw the conclusion that Christian teaching must be changed to meet modern man's "needs." Modern man and his outlook may not become normative for theology; rather, modern man must look to the Bible to find out what his true needs are. There must be a radical change first in his heart and then in his understanding of himself if he is to be able to grasp the meaning of Christian teaching and the gospel. It may be that modern man is not now able to grasp Christian teaching, but he can become able -- by the route of submission and self-denial.
This does not mean, however, that Christianity should turn a deaf ear to the request for a "relevant" presentation of Christian teaching and the gospel. Apologetics, precisely because it is not a part of theology, can play a valuable mediating role here. Thus apologetics can and should include a "presentation of the gospel for our time" in which a special effort is made to counter the objections that arise from the mentality dominant today.
This is essentially to say that apologetics is time-bound to a much greater extent than theology and Christian teaching as laid down in the creeds and confessions. Apologetics must change as the predominant outlook changes. Thus James Orr observes that "... every age calls for an apologetic suited to itself." [NOTE 26] The apologetics of a C.S. Lewis or a G.K. Chesterton is especially effective for certain kinds of people, for these two Christian writers each addressed a specific type of mind. Adept as these apologists are in explaining the faith and removing needless barriers to belief, their writings will not be effective in all times and situations, just as the work of Christian analytic philosophers is of rather limited usefulness. There is no end to the apologetic task. Thus no one need complain that there is never anything new in apologetics.
The successful Christian apologist will draw considerably on the
[page 161]
work of theologians; indeed, many apologists are themselves theologians. But the apologist will need more than theology to make his case: he will also require the help of Christian philosophers, for the latter are especially equipped to provide him with insight into the structure of the modern mind.
There is a tendency in some Christian circles to equate apologetics with Christian philosophy, in part because various apologists are philosophers. This is a mistake, for a number of reasons. For one thing, part of the apologetic task falls outside philosophy's usual concerns and is more historical in character. Moreover, a great deal of what philosophers (and therefore also Christian philosophers) occupy themselves with has no direct bearing on apologetics, even if it turns out to be relevant in a secondary sense. Christian philosophy is independent of both theology and apologetics and should have a place of its own in Christian academic institutions. Christian answers are needed to the questions which philosophers ask.
For comparable reasons, we should not equate apologetics with philosophy of religion either, although the overlap is much greater in this case. There is nothing wrong with asking a philosopher of religion to teach apologetics, perhaps in a theological seminary, but philosophy of religion should be recognized as a philosophical discipline with an agenda or list of topics of its own, an agenda that is relatively fixed and permanent, whereas apologetics, as I indicated, tends to change with the times.
Apologetics, then, is not a carefully circumscribed scholarly discipline that can be given its own limited place in the academic world. Apologetics is the task of the Christian community collectively, for it is part of the work of Christian witness, of presenting the gospel to the unbelieving world. Some Christians are much more effective in this work than others, but it should be the concern of all of us, so that God's name may be glorified.
Click here for the notes to Chapter 14.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
[page 162]
The discussion of heresy and apologetics might yet prove to be entirely "academic" in the sense of irrelevant. If a certain notion accepted by many modern thinkers turns out to be true, we would have to conclude that there is no need to oppose heresy or to try to bring people around to a different point of view through apologetics. That notion is the belief that ideas make no difference to human life, conduct and action. It is money that makes the world go around -- or perhaps love, or sex. Ideas have nothing to do with it.
In his book on heresy Barrows Dunham speaks of the conviction of the English that "thinkers are not dangerous, even in dissent." [NOTE 1] If this were true, a policy of the broadest possible toleration would seem to be called for, also in the church. But is it true? Many thinkers believe it is. Sidney Hook observes: "Some thinkers have denied that ideas are ever relevant to action ..." This would seem to suggest that "... fanatics, no matter what ideas they are fanatical about, are entitled to the same opportunities, other things being equal, as anyone else." [NOTE 2
Hook does not agree but rather holds out for the significance of ideas. His is the traditional view that was aptly expressed by the English biologist Thomas Henry Huxley, who spoke at the Johns Hopkins University in 1876, the year the university opened, and declared that "men live not by bread, but by ideas." [NOTE 3]
Orthodox Christians, of course, are inclined to side with Huxley; otherwise their emphasis on doctrine becomes pointless. Yet the more recent conception of ideas and their place in human life deserves some consideration. If we are to contend for the faith in the sense of fighting for Christian ideas and ideals, we must be
[page 163]
able to defend our conviction that ideas make a difference in human life.
Those who question the relevance and importance of ideas are not contesting their reality. What is at issue is priority. Do ideas come before actions? Are actions to be understood as consequences of prior ideas? Or are ideas perhaps caused by actions? Are they mere reflections of actions?
This issue can be clarified by a comparison with a conception of the emotions developed by William James and sometimes also attributed to the Danish philosopher C.G. Lange. This theory can be stated as follows: "... our experience of emotion is really our experience of the bodily changes 'following on the perception of an exciting fact', so that it is nearer the truth to say that we are afraid because we run away than that we run away because we are afraid." [NOTE 4] James himself explained it in these words:
Ideas, like emotions, are sometimes said to follow -- rather than precede and cause -- actions. The sociologists of knowledge have worked out all sorts of variations on this theme. One of the sources from which they draw inspiration, of course, is Karl Marx. In The German Ideology, which was written jointly by Marx and Friedrich Engels, we find the famous statement: "Life is not determined by consciousness, but consciousness by life." [NOTE 6]
This notion has undergone some refinement at the hands of later theorists of "ideology," but the main thrust still comes through in the work of many philosophers and social scientists today. Ideas are not to be taken at face value. for they represent false consciousness or rationalization. D.J. Manning neatly sums up the original conception as follows: "According to Marx and
[page 164]
Engels an ideology is a systematic attempt to demonstrate the rationality of the existing distribution of wealth and the social utility of the order in which the wealthy hold positions of power. It is invariably an apology for institutionalized inequality." [NOTE 7]
In this conception of ideology we see a convergence of Marxism and pragmatism. Ideas are caused by life or action, but they do have a certain instrumental value: they serve as tools enabling us to get and hold what we want. Truth is subordinated to utility. Ideas or ideologies arise out of the situations in which people find themselves, but they also help them alter and transform those situations.
When we transfer all of this to the domain of Christian thinking, the primacy of praxis (i.e. action, life) over theory (i.e. thinking, ideas) becomes an emphasis on orthopraxis as opposed to orthodoxy (see pp. 107-10 above). In short, we face the notion of Christianity as essentially a way of life rather than a set of teachings or doctrines. The Bible and Christian doctrine, we are told, spring from Christian living and represent a record in which Christian praxis is reflected.
There are definite dangers in this way of thinking, which tends to push aside a Christian confessional unity in favor of what we might call "Christian ethnicity." Christians are then people who happen to have inherited a certain way of life, a heritage which they continue to cherish. Since we live in a "pluralistic society" (not a melting pot in which differences are gradually eliminated but a cultural mosaic in which differences are cherished and encouraged), Christians should cling to their way of life as a valuable component of our society, which would be poorer without it. And this brings us back to pluralist rhetoric as a "cheap defense" of the Christian faith: our Christian ideas or doctrines are mere reflections of our way of life and ought to be tolerated and even encouraged since they are essentially harmless. The underlying assumption, of course, is that ideas ultimately make no difference.
It is significant that the Communist totalitarian countries, which
[page 165]
pose such a threat to peace, do not accept this pluralist rhetoric and the gentle relativism underlying it. As far as the Communist countries are concerned, ideas do make a difference. Dissenters often wind up in psychiatric hospitals where they are subjected to drug treatments designed to weaken their mental integrity. Or they may be sent to special camps for political re-education. Building on the work of the Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov, the political police have even ventured into "brainwashing."
Brainwashing was much talked about in the 1950s and early 1960s, but it is not a popular topic today. Many people in our time would rather denounce smaller, less powerful countries like South Africa than face up to the barbarous inhumanity of the Soviet Union. The novelty of having Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn in our midst has worn off.
When brainwashing was still a lively concern, the psychiatrist Joost Meerloo coined the word menticide to describe this full-scale assault on the human mind, this weakening and destruction of the human personality: "Menticide is an attack on man's very mind, on his sovereign will and conviction. It destroys free thought and makes servile, mechanical instruments of his inviolate thought processes." [NOTE 8] In a compelling book entitled The Rape of the Mind, Meerloo appealed for "inner backbone," "mental backbone," and "mental integrity." [NOTE 9] He called on the United Nations to take measures against menticide and "psychological intrusion," which is a violation of "a human right as precious as physical existence, the right of the nonconforming free individual -- the right to dissent, the right to be oneself." [NOTE 10]
Meerloo uses strong language here: he speaks of a "right to be oneself." Is he perhaps going too far? Can't I remain the person I am even if my ideas have been changed through brainwashing and "psychological intrusion"? Is there really such a thing as menticide?
If we take the term ideas in the abstract, theoretical sense, we might be inclined to respond that I can remain the person I am even though my ideas have been forcibly changed or destroyed. But if my ideas are the Christian teachings I adhere to, my Christian confession and commitments, the answer must be no. I argued earlier that a Christian is not essentially his deeds or his conduct but what he is striving to become as he puts his sins and failures behind him (see pp. 110-11). In a real sense, the Christian is
[page 166]
his beliefs, his convictions, his commitments. Therefore Meerloo is right to speak of brainwashing as a form of killing, just as we could speak of killing if a dissenter was subjected to surgery that brought his brain activity to an end while allowing his bodily functions to continue.
Totalitarian powers know perfectly well that ideas make a difference. Therefore they engage not just in brainwashing but in a control of all schools, a control that is designed to bring independent thinking to an end. The purpose is not so much to make everyone enthusiastic about the official totalitarian ideology as to destroy the very capacity to form independent convictions.
The ability to maintain one's convictions in the face of enormous pressure has stood Christians in good stead over the centuries. There have been martyrs in all centuries; ours is no exception. We, too, may be pressured to deny Christ, or to make of Him something less than what He revealed Himself to be. That was the pressure faced by Polycarp, who was a second-century battler for orthodoxy and an opponent of Gnosticism, which he denounced as a "satanic falsification of the truth." Just before he was put to death, Polycarp declared: "Eighty-and-six years I have been in the service of Christ, and He has never done me wrong; how, then, can I blaspheme Him now, -- my King and my Savior?" [NOTE 11]
Click here for the notes to the Postscript.
Click here to return to the Table of Contents.
Internet address:
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEORY AND DISAGREEMENT
After exercising so much self-restraint in not coming to blows with opponents outside analysis, I now see myself compelled to take up arms against its former followers or people who still like to call themselves its followers ... Anyone who has followed the growth of other scientific
movements will know that the same upheavals and dissensions commonly occur in them as well. [NOTE 6]
By modernity I mean the overarching ideology of the modern period, characterized as it is by autonomous individualism, secularization, naturalistic reductionism, and narcissistic hedonism, which assumes that recent modes of knowing the truth are vastly superior to all older ways -- a view that has recently presided over the precipitous deterioration of social structures and processes in the third quarter of the twentieth century. My aim is to help free persons from feeling intimidated by modernity, which, while it often seems awesome, is rapidly losing its moral power. and to grasp the emerging vision of a postmodern Christian orthodoxy. [NOTE 19]
If theology is to work toward a "postmodern orthodoxy," it will have to address itself to a number of new tasks, two of which I will mention here. First, Crane Brinton talks about the "mutual interpenetration" of Christianity and the Enlightenment outlook. Theologians and Christians generally will have to ask themselves whether the overall thrust of the Enlightenment's conception of life is compatible with the Biblical outlook.
The hypotheses and dogmas of science can never be proved in the absolutely rigorous sense. And it can likewise be said that we do not know of a single natural scientific law which gives us irrevocable certainty. The most important principles from which science proceeds and on which it is based offer us no more than an approximate certainty ... [NOTE 23]
CHAPTER NINE
HERESY AND APOSTASY
Modernity multiplies choices and concomitantly reduces the scope of what is experienced as destiny. In the matter of religion, as indeed in other areas of human life and thought, this means that the modern individual is faced not just with the opportunity but with the necessity to make choices as to his beliefs. This fact constitutes the heretical
imperative in the contemporary situation. Thus heresy, once the occupation of marginal and eccentric types, has become a much more general condition; indeed heresy has become universalized. [NOTE 3]
The compensating weight of heresy may be necessary from time to time to keep the listing ship of orthodoxy from foundering. If so, we can hazard the guess that God has a special kind of affection for heretics, and even that he raises them up to fulfill his purposes when his usual means have been hampered by human self-sufficiency. [NOTE 12]
... Augustine is right in describing pride as the mother of all heresies. For there has never been a teacher of error who has not been brought to his downfall by perverted ambition ... We shall find that all of them have been attacked by the disease of pride and have created intellectual tortures for themselves and others. [NOTE 17]
... heresy was not just a matter of doctrine but also one of discipline -- pertinacious error. The heretic was one who persisted in his mistake, refusing correction after his fault had been shown to him. It was for obduracy that he was finally punished after all efforts to make him abjure had failed. Consequently the test of heresy was a moral and practical one -- willingness to submit ... [NOTE 20]
... to adjust Christian thinking to modern knowledge. The liberal theology of my generation was not just unconsciously molded by contemporary philosophic, scientific and social pressures; it was consciously, deliberately, sometimes desperately trying to adapt Christian thought to, and harmonize it with, the intellectual culture of our time. That was the only way in which we could save our faith, and its achievement was a matter of life and death. [NOTE 30]
CHAPTER TEN
CONFESSIONAL UNITY
... we do not permit the slightest offense against it. But we can be lenient toward errors of life. For we, too, err daily in our life and conduct; so do all the saints, as they earnestly confess in the Lord's Prayer and the Creed. But by the grace of God our doctrine is pure; we have all the articles of faith solidly established in Sacred Scripture. [NOTE 17]
... that, from the nature of the human mind, time is necessary for the full comprehension and perfection of great ideas; and that the highest and most wonderful truths, though communicated to the world once for all by inspired teachers, could not be comprehended all at once by the recipients, but, as being received and transmitted by minds not inspired and through media which were human, have required only the longer time and deeper thought for their full elucidation. [NOTE 22]
I believe ... that, so far from the history of dogma being the fatuous, illusory thing that many people suppose, there is a true law and logic underlying its progress, a true divine purpose and leading in its developments, a deeper and more complete understanding of Christianity in its many-sided relations being wrought out by its labours; and that, while its advance has not been without much conflict, much error, much implication with human sin and infirmity, and is yet far from complete, that advance has in the main been onward, and has
yielded results which further progress will not subvert, any more than the future developments of science will subvert, say, such discoveries as the circulation of the blood, or the law of gravitation. [NOTE 23]
As he piles doctrine on doctrine and conclusion on conclusion in the formation of some tremendous scheme of philosophy and religion, he is, in the only legitimate sense of which the expression is capable, becoming more and more human. When he drops one doctrine after another in a refined skepticism, when he declines to tie himself to a system, when he says that he has outgrown definitions, when he says that he disbelieves in finality, when, in his own imagination, he sits as God, holding no form of creed but contemplating all, then he is by that very process sinking slowly backwards into the vagueness of the vagrant animals and the unconsciousness of the grass. Trees have no dogmas. Turnips are singularly broad-minded. [NOTE 25]
The demythologizing first of dogma, then of Scripture; the tendency to see ethical behavior as the only genuine criterion of real Christianity; the habit of continually reformulating Christian teaching to get rid of its "outmoded" elements; the instinctive acceptance of prevailing cultural assumptions as normative for faith; and the willingness to regard good will and sincerity among men as all that ultimately matters combine to encourage the slow disappearance of anything like a distinctive Christianity in visible continuity with the church over two thousand years and thereby render Christians vulnerable to any religious movement which seems to possess the aggressive vitality their own church lacks. [NOTE 26]
The plain fact is, disguised though it be by the use of traditional language, that two mutually exclusive religions are contending for the control of the Church today. One is the great redemptive religion known as Christianity; the other is the naturalistic or agnostic Modernism ... A separation between the two is the crying need of the hour; that separation alone can bring Christian unity. [NOTE 28]
The God of the Bible leaves man the greatest conceivable elbow-room (speelruimte). A state with the Bible is under an obligation imposed by God to exercise the greatest possible tolerance. Thus tolerance enjoys divine sanction. Unless I am mistaken, the Biblical understanding of existence is the only all-embracing conception in which tolerance actually fits in such an.organic manner and to its deepest depths. [NOTE 32]
PART FOUR
CHRISTIAN INSTITUTIONS
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE CHALLENGE OF ECUMENISM
The division of mankind threatens it with destruction. Civilization is imperiled by: a universal thermonuclear war, catastrophic hunger for most of mankind, stupefaction from the narcotic of "mass culture," and bureaucratized dogmatism, a spreading of mass myths that put entire peoples and continents under the power of cruel and treacherous demagogues, and destruction or degeneration from the unforeseeable consequences of swift changes in the conditions of life on our planet.
In the face of these perils, any action increasing the division of mankind, any preaching of the incompatibility of world ideologies and nations is madness and a crime. [NOTE l]
Why should not all live in peace and harmony? We look up at the same stars, we are fellow passengers on the same planet and dwell beneath the same sky. What matters it along which road each individual endeavors to find the ultimate truth? The riddle of existence is too great that there should be only one road leading to an answer. [NOTE 5]
All human history is Heilsgeschichte. The most important missionary task of the Church, at least of its missionary leaders, is probably to lead the Church to seeing this so as to enable it to respond, so that Christians may participate, not fortuitously or ineptly, but intelligently and Christianly in the salvation history of all people. [NOTE 7]
... religion is nowhere in the world an assortment of spiritual commodities, that can be compared as shoes or neck-ties. This sounds frivolous, nevertheless it is a point of such overwhelming importance that it can hardly be over-estimated. It ought never to be forgotten in the treatment of religious subjects -- but it constantly is -- that religion
is the vast and desperate effort of mankind to get somehow an apprehension of the totality of existence, and therefore every religion is an indivisible, and not to be divided, unity of existential apprehension. It is not a series of tenets, dogmas, prescriptions, institutions, practices, that can be taken over one by one as independent items of religious life, conception or organization, and that can arbitrarily be compared with, and somehow related to, and grafted upon the similar item of another religion. [NOTE 11]
According to the Christian theology of the second century (especially Justin) and the third (especially the Alexandrians Clement and Origen), the divine Logos (logos spermatikos, "seminal word") was active everywhere from the beginning. But if the pagans Plato, Aristotle and Plotinus, or later -- for others -- even Marx and Freud could be "pedagogues" leading men to Christ, why not also the philosophers and religious thinkers of other nations? Does not the East offer forms of thought and organization, structures and models, within which Christianity could be conceived and lived just as easily as in Western forms? [NOTE 17]
Current missionary activities are of three kinds, good works, education and religious propaganda. In the India of tomorrow the first two will be allowed to go on without hindrance and will even be welcome but, if the missionaries continue to bend their efforts towards religious proselytizing through medical and educational work and so on, I shall
certainly insist that they leave free India. The religions of India are right for her people: we have no need of spiritual conversion. [NOTE 21]
An ecumenism which began by asserting proudly that fidelity to Christ was alone the test of the true Christian, not adherence to the doctrines of a particular church, would end by finding Christ merely one more sectarian obstacle to unity. A good will embracing the entire human race would emerge as the only necessary common denominator. [NOTE 25]
CHAPTER TWELVE
INSTITUTIONAL IDENTITY
Philosophical subjects should never be taught with authority. They are not established sciences; they are full of disputed matters, open questions, and bottomless speculations. It is not the function of the teacher to settle philosophical and political controversies for the pupil, or even to recommend to him anyone set of opinions as better than any other. Exposition, not imposition, of opinions is the professor's part. [NOTE 6]
Indoctrination is the deliberate use of non-rational means, or the dishonest use of irrational means, to induce beliefs. The second kind of indoctrination is never justified, and the first only in the early years before the powers of intelligence have been awakened. Any kind of indoctrination on the high school or college level is a violation of the integrity of the student's person, or of his right to his own personal growth. [NOTE 7]
If by these means the offenders will not be reclaimed, and the erroneous convinced, there remains nothing further to be done but that such stubborn and obstinate persons, who give no ground to hope for their reformation, should be cast out and separated from the society. This is the last and utmost force of ecclesiastical authority. No other punishment can thereby be inflicted, than that, the relation ceasing
between the body and the member which is cut off, the person so condemned ceases to be part of that church. [NOTE 11]
... if anyone -- whether it be through a wicked life or perverse doctrine -- is so far fallen as to be separated from God, and consequently rebuked by, and expelled from, the church, he must also, according to the doctrine of Christ and His apostles, be shunned and avoided by all the members of the church (particularly by those to whom his misdeeds are known), whether it be in eating or drinking, or other such like social matters. In short, that we are to have nothing to do with him; so that we may not become defiled by intercourse with him, and partakers of his sins; but that he may be made ashamed, be affected in his mind, convinced in his conscience, and thereby induced to mend his ways. [NOTE 13]
For now it was shown, and shown with brutal clearness, that those Protestants who had clamored so loudly and persistently for "the right to their own opinions" were merely Catholics in disguise, that they were just as narrow-minded and cruel to those who did not share their own views as their enemies and that they were only waiting for the opportunity to establish a reign of terror of their own. [NOTE 18]
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DOCTRINAL AND ACADEMIC FREEDOM
Academic freedom is the freedom of the teacher or research workers in higher institutions of learning to investigate and discuss the problems of his science and to express his conclusions, whether through publication or in the instruction of students, without interference from political or ecclesiastical authority, or from the administrative officials of the institution in which he is employed, unless his methods are found by qualified bodies of his own profession to be clearly incompetent or contrary to professional ethics. [NOTE 2]
... academic freedom has come to signify the brotherhood of man in science that is akin in aspiration to the brotherhood of man in God. Attempts to foist upon the academic community an American or a Presbyterian science, or a class or color yardstick in appointments and promotions, are thus infringements of academic freedom. By acquiring the value of neutrality, academic freedom has come to stand for the belief that science must transcend ideology, that professors must renounce all commitments that corrupt the passion for truth. [NOTE 6]
In the concrete thinking of the Old Testament, "The Lord is my shepherd" is a reality that can be verbally expressed only in this manner. To help modern man understand Psalm 23, we must make it clear to him through television documentaries, through exegesis and through catechetical instruction what a shepherd was in that time and that land. Anyone who regards this as too much trouble can simply write off Psalm 23.
We will have to continue to use the images of the Old Testament
right to the end of time, for it pleased God to reveal Himself in concrete historical situations. Even in the age of the robots, the Lord is my shepherd. [NOTE 9]
The modern mind, then, does not become a norm by which the Biblical message is to be reshaped or repackaged. In fact, contemporary man needs to relearn some of that Old Testament "concrete thinking."
... in the service of the Holy Spirit, theology is called ever and anon to test the historic, confessional life of the Church by its source, and to this end to examine it after the norm of the Holy Scripture. By itself confessional life tends to petrify and to fall asleep, and it is theology that keeps the Church awake; that lends its aid in times of conflict with oft-recurring heresies; that rouses her self-consciousness anew to a giving of account, and in this way averts the danger of petrification. [NOTE 10]
That a Church should forbid a minister of the Word the further use of her pulpit when he antagonizes her confession, or that a board of trustees should dismiss a professor, who, according to their view, does not serve the end for which he was appointed, has nothing whatever to do with this liberty of studies. A ship-owner, who dismisses a captain because he sails the ship to a different point of destination from what the ship-owner designated, in no wise violates thereby the personal rights of the captain.
The persistent heretic must be banished from the Church; a professor, whose presence is a menace to the highest interests of a school, must be dismissed; but from the field of theology no one can disappear, unless he leaves it of his own free will. [NOTE 13]
Galileo's condemnation and the consequent loss of the world of science has not unjustly been ranked with the East-West schism and the Western divisions in faith as one of the three greatest disasters in Church history. It played an essential part in opening that gap between the Church and modem civilization which is still far from being bridged. [NOTE 18]
One of the most widespread myths about academic freedom is that it is a human right or at least entailed by the rights enumerated in "the Bill of Rights" of the Amendments to the American Constitution. This is a gross mistake. However human rights or civil rights be defined, they belong to individuals in virtue of their participation in the human community or as citizens of the democratic commonwealth. They do not have to be earned. Everyone has a human right to a fair trial or to freedom of speech. But not everyone has a right to academic freedom. That must be earned. It is only the person who is professionally qualified in some sense who is eligible for academic freedom. [NOTE 22]
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE PLACE OF APOLOGETICS
The madman is not the man who has lost his reason. The madman is the man who has lost everything except his reason.
The madman's explanation of a thing is always complete, and often in a purely rational sense satisfactory. Or, to speak more strictly, the insane explanation, if not conclusive, is at least unanswerable; this may be observed specially in the two or three commonest kinds of madness. If a man says (for instance) that men have a conspiracy against him, you cannot dispute it except by saying that all the men deny that they are conspirators; which is exactly what conspirators would do. His explanation covers the facts as much as yours. [NOTE 13]
Natural theology came to stand alongside revealed theology as independent of it ... Leibniz was expressing the dominant view when he placed revelation over against reason as an external emissary facing an authorized assembly. This assembly first investigates revelation's letters of faith, and if it finds them genuine it listens respectfully. What deism in England and rationalism in Germany deduced from this before long is that natural theology is completely sufficient. [NOTE 15]
POSTSCRIPT
DO IDEAS MAKE A DIFFERENCE?
Common-sense says, we lose our fortune, are sorry and weep; we meet a bear, are frightened and run; we are insulted by a rival, are angry and strike. The hypothesis here to be defended says that this order of sequence is incorrect, that the one mental state is not immediately induced by the other, that the bodily manifestations must first be interposed between, and that the more rational statement is that we feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble, and not that we cry, strike, or tremble, because we are sorry, angry. or fearful. as the case may be. [NOTE 5]
http://plantinga.ca/a/cff-2.htm