A good friend of mine, Josh Gibbs, has posted a couple of recent entries on his blog that I wanted to respond to.
First, in his Joe Versus the Volcano post from July 17th, he suggests that perhaps one of the ways of looking at the cross-migration of folks to and from various traditions of Protestantism, Catholicism, and Orthodoxy is in the way that God determines to grow particular individuals up. He cites friends of ours in particular who have “blossomed” in their new surroundings and recognizes that there are just as many folks coming the other way into Protestantism from one of those two branches of the church that have grown in ways never conceivable in their old cathedral digs. Now, I certainly appreciate Josh’s sensibility to recognize that this is going both ways, (although I would suggest it is FAR more common that cradle catholics and orthodox are blossoming when they “get saved” in college through some hip and trendy evangelical ministry than the other way around – but that’s not really what I want to talk about). My first objection to Josh’s logic is how myopic this description appears to be. It seems fairly near-sighted to evaluate one’s transition based on six months or two years of experience. Yes, I know that we can all name certain (in)famous characters who have done the transition to Rome or Constantinople and lo, there they are 20 or 50 years later and appear to still love Jesus with all the fervor of a spirit-filled charismatic. And thank God for that. But what about their children and their grandchildren? Jesus warns about certain people who get their houses exorcised, all swept and clean and organized so that after a while seven more demons can take up residence. Which is all to say that judging “ugly” in one tradition and “lovely” in another seems far too superficial. I know that Josh means things like simple, sacrificial obedience and love for neighbors and family, but again, how can we judge the trajectory of that kind of transition after a few years? Which is to say that this kind of evaluation is always secondary to the question, ‘who do you trust?’ This is the most important question, I believe. Do you trust the pastors and teachers who have faithfully taught you, prayed for you, counseled you, and given themselves up for you over the last number of years, or do you trust the guy who you met a few months ago who chants prayers to icons? And this is not a question about whether you may like or respect people in other traditions. The question is, who do you trust more? Who will you submit to?
People who leave traditions do so because they no longer trust their pastors and elders to lead and pastor them. And sometimes that’s understandable, but Josh’s apparent ambivalence doesn’t seem to recognize the personal nature of the church community. You can’t just say, sorry I found a new church; it’s nothing personal. It’s always personal. It’s always a question of loyalty and trust and gratitude. And yes, it has everything to do with the “frustratingly personal God” found in Jesus Christ and him alone. But where are we to see this personal God found in Christ? St. John says, “If you do not love your brother who you have seen, you cannot love God whom you have not seen” (1 Jn. 4:20). Similarly, the whole point of the parable of the sheep and the goats is the calling of Jesus to see Him in the people right in front of you. And so my question is, how many migrating goats will be told on that great and terrible day, “when I was hungry you went on a pilgrimage to Rome.” “When I was naked, you were praying to your icons. When I was sick and lonely, you preferred to spend time with your well-vested priest. Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels” (Mt. 25:31-45). It is all about Christ, and so I want to know why it would ever be OK to treat the body of Christ like an amusement park where different people can get their thrills on different rides and that’s really all that matters at the end of the day. Now I know that Josh isn’t saying that, but surely he would recognize that his point is not too far removed. If Christ is found in the people right in front you, why would you ignore them, walk away from them to find new friends in some other tradition, and how could it be done in the name of finding Christ? Christ is goodness, and his goodness is the family he reared you in, the fathers and mothers he gave you when you were young, and the friends and brothers who still love you today.
Second, I wanted to respond to Josh’s post on closed communion in the Reformed tradition (also from July 17th). On that note, it is true to point out that Reformed churches of various stripes do indeed practice various forms of closed communion. In some Reformed churches only the members of that particular church are allowed to partake. In others, there is only a small number of fraternal denominations that are recognized as being able to participate with them. And so comparing those with Rome or Constantinople, there really isn’t much difference on that point. But Josh’s point has more to do with taking communion to the sick, the disabled, and the outcast who are for various reasons unable to be in regular Sunday service. But here there are several important distinctions that Josh isn’t careful to make. He does say that he is willing to be taught, and that’s great, but these are the kind of distinctions that a couple of introductory books on reformation theology would clear up. And all I mean is that the answer to Josh’s question is fairly simple. The Reformers were fed up with the Eucharistic idolatry going on in the late middle ages. Saving the elements in order to pray to them later, holding them up in the air and walking through town for the crowds to cower at various clergymen’s feet, and using them as tools of manipulation against God’s people were all abuses that the Reformers (and probably most modern RCCs) loathed. The Westminster Confession’s point is merely to disallow the idolatry and the practice of private masses, where one individual could be elevated above the rest to have communion by himself, or commonly where political rulers could get their grace without actually being part of the worshipping body of saints. To be clear: the reserving and venerating of the host had grown into a kind of manipulative maneuver that pushed the majority of the people of God into the margins. These idolatrous practices were being used to abuse the very lambs that Christ called his apostles to feed. Ironically, the very thing that Josh thinks he sees in Westminster is the very thing the Reformers were seeking to correct. The Eucharist is for the people of God; it’s for the commoners, the outcasts, the sick, the lonely, the dying.
And while I think we could always do a far better job of acting this out in practice, I know of plenty of occasions where it has been done in Reformed churches, where pastors have celebrated the sacrament with the faithful in hospital rooms and nursing homes, and as at least one commenter pointed out in the original post, there were prominent examples of this in the early Reformation churches themselves.
All that to say, these are great questions to raise and worthy of discussion. But I would plead with whatever audience I have to be patient and use caution in rushing to conclusions. People have actually discussed these very things before. These questions have been raised and answered by our fathers in the faith. Don’t think that this is a new discussion. It’s been going on for 500 years. Honor that tradition enough to listen for a little while.
Johannulus de Silentio says
Hey Toby,
Obviously I have a lot of interest in this issue right now, and I’ve appreciated all the things you’ve said in your recent sermons. But I think some qualifications are necessary.
First, it seems, life isn’t that simple, as far as “Here’s where God put you. Grow there.” Two hundred years ago, it might’ve been, but in today’s world of people constantly moving and communication that spans continents, the poles of inside and outside, to use Rosenstock-Huessy, are much more confused and scattered. If I were to
one-sidedly apply the logic of your argument, I would say that none of us NSAers should have ever left our home churches, or certainly that our parents shouldn’t have. The problem is that who “our people” are, our mothers, fathers, brothers, is not static, but is necessarily changing as God leads us through our lives, and through those changes, God may call us to embrace new communities and new traditions. Now, of course, as we embrace these new communities and traditions, we should do so with full respect and gratitude for those that have brought us on our way. The new loyalties should never cause us to despise old loyalties, unless those old loyalties were truly sinful.
Second, to appeal to Rosenstock-Huessy again, Toby’s post appears to tend a little too much toward the past rather than future side of the cross of reality. Both must be held in tension. Because God guides each of us on a journey through life, where we have obligations toward the past that nurtured us and toward the future that summons us and requires our labors, we can never simply say, “This is where you have been led, this is who you have been led by, therefore you can never forsake these”; no, we have to weigh our obligations toward past and future, and carefully consider what the shape of the path that God is leading us on looks like, because that path is never static.
If we didn’t do this, but simply trusted those that had been put in front of us, there never would have been any Reformation, or for that matter, any apostles.
Matthew N. Petersen says
If Christ is found in the people right in front you, why would you ignore them, walk away from them to find new friends in some other tradition, and how could it be done in the name of finding Christ? Christ is goodness, and his goodness is the family he reared you in, the fathers and mothers he gave you when you were young, and the friends and brothers who still love you today.
Just curious: would you apply this to Orthodox or Catholic converts to the Geneva?
Toby says
Johannulus,
On the first point I agree. My point is all about love, loyalty, and gratitude in the details.
On the second point of course you’re right in principle, but what I’m concerned about is how this translates into practice. I’m objecting to a certain mindset that uses the “future” as an axe to grind on the tree of the past.
Matt says
Toby,
Why didn’t this principle hold true for the reformers?
It seems they were just the sort of high-minded ingrate you’re describing here.
Your last paragraph could be rendered almost word for word (and was) from the Catholic Church to the reformers with the slight change of “500 years” to “1500 years”.
Jason Farley says
Grrrrrrr, Grrrrrrr, Grrrrrrrrrr. Toby, you crazy traditionalist pig, insisting that people understand what they insult and (worst of all) expect people to be thankful and (even worse that the worst of all) patient. That’s it, I’m leaving. I can’t handle anymore of this
Jason Farley
Toby says
Matthew,
I would have the same problem with Catholics and Orthodox doing arrogant touchdown dances in the Protestant end zone.
Matt,
Actually, the Reformers would have been delighted if the Magisterium had been willing to do that very thing. The Reformers were busy reading the church fathers and were wondering what had happened to their church. It was the Magisterium that told the Reformers that they could not talk about these issues, could not ask questions, and generally refused to dialogue. In fact, it was this very plea that the Reformers brought to the Church of their day: shouldn’t we listen to our fathers?
And Jason,
Yeah, go ahead and leave. Maybe you should move somewhere warm and sunny. Yeah, that’ll teach you.
Matt says
Toby,
Joe Presbyterian (or Matt Yonke, for that matter) says “Hey…wait a minute, what you’re teaching is nothing like what the Church Fathers said.” Then after the Presbyterian Church informs him that they will not be changing their doctrine to reflect his view of the Fathers, he take off to Apostolic Church x.
John Calvin says “Hey…wait a minute, what you’re teaching is nothing like what the Church Fathers said.” Then, after the Catholic Church informs him that they will not be changing to reflect his view of the Fathers, he forms Reformed Church y.
The only distinction I can see you making is that you believe the Reformers were reading the Fathers correctly.
But if we’re working with the model of the noble person who stays in the Church God gave them and helps work out the kinks as best they can (My Church Right or Wrong sort of thing), what difference does a “correct” reading of the Fathers make?
Toby says
Matt,
Two things:
First, the decision of Joe Presbyterian to leave and join Apostolic Church X is not analogous to Calvin unless Joe Presbyterian is forcibly run out of town under threat of execution by the church session. Calvin was a refugee who found himself in a city where the leaders asked him (actually begged and nearly forced him) to begin teaching and preaching to them. While I can imagine certain missionary scenarios where something like this might happen, you and others are/were not in such dire straits. You were/are free to ask questions, discuss concerns, and work for reformation. And I for one would continue to encourage you to join us as we work at this. Calvin had no such option before him.
Second, the difference a “correct” reading of the fathers makes has everything to do with the fact that God is our heavenly Father. This means that in so far as our fathers taught, lived, and carried on the apostolic traditions of Holy Scripture, God our Father promises to bless us in them.
And the blessing of God makes all the difference in the world.
Matt says
Toby,
Calvin always had the option of submitting. Nay, Calvin always had the Biblical mandate to submit.
You can’t believe that the Papacy is an institution founded by Christ and then not submit to it because you happen to be attending a Presbyterian assembly at the time you come to believe it. You either believe it and submit to it or you don’t.
If Jesus didn’t found one Church but rather an idea of Church that has taken on thousands of different incarnations, then sure, I’ll grant you, you should probably stay in the one you’re in cause your personal preferences don’t make much difference.
But if Jesus did in fact found one Church that is one not just spiritually one, but one institutionally by the physical laying on of hands from Christ Himself all the way down to Father So-and-So at St. Scholastica parish down the street, then you have a clear cut obligation to be in that Church and no other.
It is not an act of ingratitude to leave your current community for the Catholic Church if you have come to believe that, anymore than it was an act of ingratitude for James and John to drop their nets, leave their father, and follow Christ.
Johannulus de Silentio says
Hey Toby, just so you know, this is Brad L…wasn’t sure if you figured that out, since you just replied to me as “Johannulus.”
Matt, while I’m sympathetic to your point, here’s the problem: ok, so if you’re convinced of that, yes, you may have a “clear obligation” to be in that church; you may have a clear obligation to submit to the papacy.
But our obligations in life are never so simple. We have many other very concrete obligations, as Toby is saying–an obligation to show loyalty, respect, and gratitude toward those who raised and discipled us, an obligation to recognize that God has put you where you are for a reason and perhaps you should work for reform there (if Catholicism is so important, then why desert your brothers–why not stay and work to move them along, as long as there seems to be a viable calling for to do that work?); an obligation to have regard for the weaker brother, and strive to live at peace with all men. All these are “clear-cut obligations” and they will often conflict with the apparent obligation to go to Rome. Now, this does not necessarily mean that the apparent obligation to go to Rome must therefore not really be an obligation (even though I would argue that it is not), because sometimes God really does give us conflicting obligations. But it does mean that any adherence to the Romeward obligation cannot be one-sided, as if that were the only obligation. Due respect has to be given to the other obligations, which may mean a delay in acting upon the Romeward convictions.
Toby:
You say that the Reformers were run out of town with the threat of execution and were given no chance to reform or dialogue from within. But isn’t it also true that there were a great many Catholic leaders who were interested in dialogue, especially by the time the Council of Trent gathered, but, at that point, the Protestants weren’t interested in rejoining the discussion from within. I’m not saying I blame the Reformers for feeling standoffish, but I think it’s historically naive to argue that they maintained a willingness to argue for their reforms from within the Church; many of them seem to have been quite happy to walk, and quite comfortable in setting up on their own.
I see proof of this in Calvin’s attempt to come up with an alternative ecclesiology to justify the permanent legitimacy of their secession. If the attitude was really, “Man, we really think we ought to stay here, but right now, we have to do our own thing, because they won’t let us preach the gospel from within, but hopefully we can fix this soon” then why say, “Oh, by the way, it’s really not that important that we remain in that Church, because there’s no special authority there, because any group of believers can found a legitimate church. So we’re cool staying where we are indefinitely.”
That’s at least how I see the historically novel notion of Presbyterianism, which he certainly didn’t get from the Fathers.
Or am I misrepresenting?
Toby says
Matt and Brad,
I responded in a new post above.
Blessings,
Toby