Thursday, May 18, 2006

Protesting Protestantism: A Possible Introduction

I recently finished reading a moderately fascinating book entitled The Mosaic of Christian Belief. It was recommended to me after I confessed an ignorance of Protestant traditions. Before I read the book I was a convicted Catholic; after I read the book I am a convicted Catholic. Anyway, the author, Roger E. Olson, who is obviously a well educated theologian, traces core Christian beliefs throughout what he calls "twenty centuries of unity and diversity". In his own words, his book:

aims at being thoroughly biblical and both faithful to the Great Tradition of Christianity as well as contemporary in its restatement of what Christians have always believed. It also intends, however, to provide a mediating theological perspective within the broad tradition of evangelical Protestant Christianity. A mediating theology is one that attempts to bridge unnecessary and unfortunate gulfs between perspectives and interpretations within a single religion—in this case Christianity. Such an approach values unity as well as truth and assumes that at times it is necessary for equally committed Christians to agree to disagree about secondary matters and come together on common ground. One way in which this may be accomplished is by a rediscovery and new valuing of our common Christian heritage of belief—what will here be called the Great Tradition of Christian teaching...

At least in my own estimation, Olson does not seem to succeed. This is not because of a lack of intelligence, foresight or wisdom on his part; and it is certainly not due to a lack of humility. Olson's error is more fundamental than the mere mark of imperfection which is present in every Christian, theologian or otherwise. It is my intention to explain Olson's error and offer a solution to it within this book.

Let us first look back at Olson's introduction as shown above. Sub-titled “The Need for a “Both-And” Theology”, Olson embraces a contradiction that is not quite a paradox. For a paradox is true, and if inexplicable, it nonetheless stands. I am certain that Olson understands paradox, for he uses the very word, as well as examples thereof in his book. I am equally certain that Olson does not believe that there is anything out of the ordinary with the title of his introduction. But he is emphatically wrong, and we cannot go further in his book without explaining the inconsistency present in the most basic principle of his book.

There are cases when “both-and” theology may apply, but they are rare. And though certainly not exclusive to the Christian faith, Christianity is marked by many paradoxes. For example, Olson points out that, according to the Christian faith, Christ was both God and man. As an aside, even this paradox, upon which the whole faith hangs, has been challenged vociferously and often during the history of the Church. I shall say more on this later. Yet there are other instances where the unity of paradox is trumped by a diversity which would give an outright contradiction. Christ may be true God and true man. It is impossible for the mind—at least my own—to comprehend such a mystery, but the fact that it transcends human understanding does not make it a falsehood. However, if Olson would have said—I should clarify that he does not—that Christ was either a man or God--but not both; if he said that both of these beliefs fit within the mold of Christianity, he would be lying. It would be akin to saying that Christ was born in both Nazareth and Bethlehem. While Olson allows no compromise on the nature of Christ, and for that I commend him, he does allow compromise on other areas. To use just one example, he notes that providence is both limited and detailed, under the Christian tradition.

I must beg the readers forgiveness while I clarify this point before moving onward. A man, if he is talented, can both chew gum and walk; he cannot take a bath and drive to the mall at the same time. These examples seem childish, and probably a bit silly, but it is only my intention to prove the same point Aristotle noted before Christ was born. “A” is not the same as “Not A”. In fact, the two are, by definition, mutually exclusive. I cannot simultaneously be writing this in my bedroom while parting the Red Sea. No one can be checking Olson's book out from the library while playing first base at Yankee stadium. If I may be even more absurd, the Red Sea is not Yankee stadium and Olson's book, although it might suffice, is not first base.

Providence may be limited, and it may be detailed. It may even, as the Catholic Tradition has it, embrace both in the form of a paradox. But the belief of Calvin cannot be reconciled with the belief of the Roman Catholic Church. Either we are all predestined in the Calvinist sense and have no real free will, but bend before the might power of God, or we, though impacted by God's grace, make decisions on our own. We have been created by a great God, and though he has the power to stop us from doing wrong, he chose instead to give us free will do that we could freely love him. He knows all things, and, as the being who transcends time, knows even those things which are to be, but he does not create so as to damn, or even in a manner that all will be saved. His love was freely given and it must be freely chosen, and even a Calvinist who sins is doing so of his own volition, and should praise God for the grace to choose well when he has done so, and earnestly repent, again of his own accord, when necessary. I should not give a false account of the words or the intent of Mr. Olson, who closes his chapter on Providence with a call to unity: “Christians need to rediscover and rally together around a distinctively Christian view of God's sovereignty over nature and history in spite of deep differences about the details.” Would that Mr. Olson closed every chapter with such a call. Anyway, the devil, it is said, is in the details. By all means Christians should rally together for a unitive viewpoint on an issue such as providence, but it is the firm contention of this book that unity is important in almost every area of Christian belief, and, furthermore, that this unity can only come, and will only come within the confines—which are not confining—of the Roman Catholic Church.

I do not wish to talk down to Mr. Olson or anyone else who may be reading this. I am sure that he is quite proficient in basic logic, and I would wager that he is far more familiar with Aristotle than I am. Therefore, I realize that what appears obvious to me, and what I should hope appears obvious to the reader, is likewise obvious to him. There is a need for some “either-or” theology. If Christianity is stricken from any absolutes at all, it retains absolutely nothing, and becomes absolutely worthless, especially as a religion. Many men and women have bravely died for Christ. Yet these martyrs have had a clear picture of what it was that they were dying for. I am not concerned, at least for the moment, with whether or not their beliefs were true. I do know that they were true enough for them; they were esteemed true enough to die for. And while many men and women have died for truth, and even for conflicting definitions of truth, they have always had this idea of truth securely in mind. It has always been a firm idea, perhaps a simple idea, but in any case something clearly defined. No one has ever been martyred for some vague notion of peace and love, even if they would sing about it. People have died in protest of individual assaults on peace or love, and even more obviously have been ironically quite ready to make war in order to make peace as were the Communists. It has always been an idea which has lifted man to perform extraordinary feats. It has always been doctrine, even if it happens to be the false doctrine of Marx.

And just as the Christians of old were willing to die for Christ, so too are Christians today ready to courageously follow suit. But the early Christians would not lay their lives down for some moral teacher who allowed for any number of opinions to divide the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church. They would die for the Son of God, and indeed did so bravely and willingly. They would even die for the doctrine of the Church which the world sees as completely insignificant, as did Thomas Moore. There are even early Christians who died for the Eucharist, something about which the church is no longer united. If the belief that the bread and wine were Christ's body and blood was enough to drive holy men and women to martyrdom, it is certainly an important enough topic upon which to develop a solid, firm, and unwavering opinion to which the communion of believers may readily cling.

There is clearly need for unity in the faith, and again Olson says as much. He lucidly and quite humbly lays out some basic beliefs for Christians—what he refers to as the “Great Tradition”. But here trouble sets in. For in accepting certain beliefs as common to Christians, he is excluding other beliefs. Now, it is of course quite necessary to exclude certain beliefs if we wish to prevent Christianity from being some amorphous blob of nothing, encompassing all, and, much like a great big circus tent, collapsing of its supposed liberality. Any proclamation of any one thing is a proclamation against a thousand others, just as the man in the library is neither at Yankee Stadium nor in the Red Sea. Any proclamation of one thing extols some trait over other traits; it lifts one thing over others, even if the others do not in fact fall except in comparison. A proclamation is judgment, and a judgment is an appeal to authority. The problem is that in making a case for Christian commonality, Olson must make this appeal to authority.

There are two sources to which Olson appeals. First, the sacred scriptures, and second, his “Great Tradition” of the the church, with an emphasis on both early church fathers, and reformers along with modern day Protestants. Now, I think that Olson chooses his sources wisely, and anyway, as wisely as he could have with such an untenable proposition for a book. Throughout his work, he clearly tries to keep his opinions out of it. Certainly his selections are based on his viewpoints, but nowhere does Olson spring up to condemn something without first appealing to some authority beyond himself. This is a mark of his wisdom and humility as a Christian, but the reason the book is only moderately fascinating is that it lacks authority. I, for one, do not wish to have more of Olson's opinions in the book, and I think that those who do respect him would only see this respect diminished if he became overly pedagogic. But there is still something lacking in the book. There are common points to be sure, and assuming for the sake of the argument, which we shall revisit later, that Olson does peg Christianity correctly, the greater issue is the discrepancy, which is probably only a far meaner way of saying diversity. There is a distinct impression that what is missing from the book is a solution to all the mad controversies that have plagued the church for two thousand years. One cannot escape the feeling that the diversity does matter, and it matters even more than all the unity which we do in fact share.

To again make use of an earlier example, Olson condemns as heretic those who do not accept the dual nature of Christ, proclaimed by the Nicaean Creed, in which we say: I believe in Jesus Christ, true God, and true man. Again, I applaud Olson for his assertion, but this begs more questions than it gives answers. If the council of Nice was valid, why wasn't the council of Constance likewise valid? If the believers had authority, by whom was this authority given? If it was given by man, Christianity has been nothing but a series of best guesses by our best thinkers, and Arius was condemned, not for being wrong, but for being unable to sway enough bishops to his cause. Luther, was not a heretic, preaching false doctrines; he was an unfortunate soul, unable to conjure sympathy among the clergy. If, on the other hand, the authority derives from God, when did he remove his guiding hand from the Church? The dilemma remains.

It is not enough to say that the Great Tradition teaches that diversity of opinion is not allowed on this particular issue. There was a time when this same Tradition, would have allowed diversity on this very topic. Arius believed that his view on the nature of Christ was accurate, just as Luther thought the Church was wrong, and just as Calvin thought his beliefs correct. If we are not to allow in Arius and his followers, why do the Protestants merit a seat at the banquet table? If Arius is not a Christian, why is Luther?

Protestantism is a heresy, for it attacks the authority of the one Church, called Catholic. There are many good Protestants, and Olson gives all appearances of being one. Heretic has become a dirty word, and I run the risk of dividing rather than uniting by writing this book. Yet such is not my goal. Christians are already divided, though there was to be no division in Christ, and I don't see any way to re-unite the Church without stamping out Protestantism. It is my hope that one day we will all worship as one people, as one body in Christ. May the Lord bring us together once again into his flock. May the fold, through the mercy and grace of Christ, return to the Church.

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