Heresy, History and Hope

Students of the conflict in the PC(USA) know two things. First, they know that the conflict regarding ordination is symptomatic of differing perspectives on the authority of Scripture. The other issues which plague the denomination: abortion, the exclusivity of Jesus Christ, Trinitarian language and the mandate to evangelize are symptoms born of differing understandings of the authority of Scripture. Secondly, they know that Presbyterians are not alone in this struggle, that it crosses denominational lines, particularly in the mainline Church.

Few people would argue that the conflict is simply a matter of differing, but equally valid theological persuasions, or redesigning denominational structures. The struggle, rather, is with what might charitably be called a departure from orthodoxy or perhaps more pointedly, a heresy.

What then is this departure? I have labeled it hyper-humanism. Humanism helped give rise to vast strands of the Reformation and, in particular, the Reformed witness. Humanism, in general, helped train the Church’s eye upon the dignity and worth of each human being and the power of rational thought and reasoned investigation. Most of the Reformers, including John Calvin, Zwingli, and Melancthon were trained in humanist thought before beginning their theological education. The Christian humanist position is that human experience and tools are informative for understanding God. The hyper-humanist position is that human experience and tools are determinative for understanding God. Like most departures from orthodox belief, this is not so much a matter of being entirely in the wrong, as it is a matter of emphasis. Hyper-humanism over-emphasizes human ability and potentiality, as it de-emphasizes our sinful nature. Perhaps due to this over-emphasis, hyper-humanism also de-emphasizes the holiness and otherness of God, especially His potential for wrath and the consequent need for atonement. John Calvin, in his 1538 Catechism, correctly identified these two trends of thought when he claimed that “the carefree disregard of God’s (his) vengeance and false confidence in our own capacity,” are the “two most harmful plagues of all.”1 The upshot of hyper-humanism is that as the human capacity is exaggerated and the holiness and otherness of God is mitigated, the distance between humanity and God is lessened. The fruit of this perspective runs throughout American Protestantism but perhaps most tellingly in our slackening view of Scriptural authority. The latter is an issue about which there is a steady evangelical cry and wail. It has been often asserted that a low view of Scripture is at the root of our denominational struggles, but I think if we pull back the curtain in this regard, we will see a hyper-humanist perspective standing behind it.

The Church is in the midst of a battle against heresy, in the same way that She battled Arianism, Pelagianism, Donatism. Therefore, we ought to examine how these struggles may inform the current one. Some people may shrink from applying the term “heresy” to the current struggle; however, even our unwillingness to employ the term is grounded in hyper-humanism. Human beings are fallible not only in practice but in belief. Scripture teaches this as does experience. We are all subject to heresy, even the ultra-orthodox, as I will soon argue. Theological battles, even among God’s children, can quickly grow ugly and divisive. It is unclear if even Peter and Paul were able to heal the rift between them which opened at Antioch. Perhaps what we need as a Church is to once again develop a taste for theological red meat as we become reawakened to the inherent danger in falsehoods which are close to the truth, whose error is by degrees. Emil Brunner argued this point as he defended Karl Barth against charges of “heresy-hunting.”

I have made the point that most theology is made necessary by heretics using the terms of the true faith, while meaning something other than the plain words can signify. Not open heresy but hidden heresy is the real danger in the Church; it is the internal enemy, even more dangerous than the external.2

Assuming that we are now joined in a battle against an enemy whose presence in our theology constitutes a danger to the Church, what can be learned from Scripture as well as previous struggles which might now guide us?

First, a theological struggle of this scope and magnitude may last hundreds of years. A common refrain among evangelicals engaged in the struggle is “I am tired. I have been fighting this battle for my entire life in the Church.” Being 35 years old, I am relatively new to the struggle. I want to be careful to honor those who have labored long and endured much. However, the struggle against hyper-humanism has been going on since the Garden of Eden when Eve elevated her own experience over God’s Word. Marcion was a 2nd century example of one who elevated experience over the Word. He rejected the OT and much of the NT to craft a God “who had nothing to do with law, wrath, or judgment, but was instead only a god of grace, love and acceptance.”3 One might also argue that the struggle over the authority of Scripture grounded in hyper-humanism has some roots in Schleiermacher’s apologetic approach to Christian theology. One can certainly see some evidence of the hyper-humanist perspective in the modernist-fundamentalist controversy which rent asunder the Presbyterian Church. The struggle was certainly in the mind of B. B. Warfield when he defended Scriptural authority, writing:

The issue raised is whether we are to look upon the Bible as containing a divinely guaranteed and wholly trustworthy account of God’s redemptive revelation, and the course of his gracious dealings with his people; or as merely a mass of more or less trustworthy materials out of which we are to sift the facts in order to put together a trustworthy account of God’s redemptive revelation and the course of his dealings with his people.4

It is important that in our struggle for truth that we do not “grow weary of doing good, for in due season, we will reap, if we do not give up” (Gal. 6:8).

Arianism limped on for close to 150 years. When discussing that 4th century heresy, it is often mentioned that the Unitarian Paul of Samasota was deposed as bishop of Antioch in 269 AD for asserting that Jesus Christ was born as man alone. Arius’ view that Christ was the first-born of creation began to stir approximately 50 years later. He was condemned by the Council of Nicea in 325, however, that did not eliminate his doctrine’s appeal. Arianism grew in prominence and the Nicean condemnation was affirmed at Constantinople in 381. Arianism continued on, however, among groups such as the Goths, the Vandals, and the Burgundians well after Constantinople.

Pelagius’ denial of original sin and belief that human beings possess the free will to choose good over evil and effect their own salvation began to gain a wide audience as early as 390 AD. Pelagius’ views were condemned by a council at Carthage in 418 and then again, without discussion, at the third ecumenical council at Ephesus. Semi-pelagianism, however, rose up to take its predecessor’s place until it was finally condemned by the Synod of Orange in 529.

Donatism, the view that the efficacy of the sacraments is dependent upon the character of the minister, arose in 312 AD with the conversion of Constantine. The sect was condemned finally by the Emperor Honorius in 412. Their civil rights were removed in 414 and they were persecuted unmercifully by the Romans for decades afterward. However, it was not until the Muslim conquest in the seventh century that the Donatist sect finally disappeared.

Even after the formal movements of Arianism, Donatism, and Pelagianism were denounced by the Church, their teachings continued to be promoted by some individuals and congregations. Even today, some people accept their teachings. Given the long time frame with which the Church has wrestled with movements such as these, we can anticipate a similarly lengthy effort against hyper-humanism. We must prepare ourselves as well as the future generations of Christians for a prolonged struggle and not lose hope when a particular clash does not affirm orthodoxy.

Second, our task is not to preserve the Presbyterian Church (USA) or any particular denomination, but to witness for truth. Sitting around a table with several ministers closer to retirement than I, we discussed the future of the PC (USA) with great anxiety. As several alternative plans for reform were being dissected and dismissed, one of the men who had served the Church faithfully for many years looked me in the eye and said, “You young guys with all the ideas just make sure you protect our pensions.” It is difficult to reconcile this kind of perspective with that of Martin Luther who when asked to renounce the clear witness of Scripture said, “Here I stand, I can do no other.” The Church, as an institution, derives its authority from Jesus Christ, its ministry from the work of the Holy Spirit in our midst, and its teaching from Scripture. Everything else, it would seem, is penultimate. This includes Presbytery meetings, General Assemblies, and the Board of Pensions. One thinks of the somewhat rough, but effective techniques of the Reformers in various towns across Europe, who whitewashed their Roman Catholic sanctuaries, broke out all the stained glass, and threw the idols out into the street. They were not concerned with preserving their heritage or a structure, but with promoting and preserving right religious practice. We would do well to avoid their obvious extremes, but perhaps we could use a little of their passion.

Calvin’s methodology for the reformation of the church may be instructive for us here. His deep appreciation for the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ and realism about human potential, led him to believe that the task of the Church was not to make absolutely perfect the body of Christ, let alone the world. This, of course, does not mean that he descended into the quietism of inaction. Instead, however, he maintained that the task of the Church was to meet the enemy sin wherever it is found and labor against it, for the glory of God. This is not to say that Calvin was unconcerned with the results of these efforts. He was certainly a strategist, but he did not allow himself to believe that his strategies would carry the day or usher in the Parousia. Barth summarized Calvin’s approach to reform saying, “For Calvin activism meant moderate action after due consideration. He had come to terms with the fact that the world resists the gospel. He did not dream of any dramatic breakthrough or victory for his cause. His concern was to establish the most favorable possible conditions for the conflict.”5 Our question should be similar, “How do we establish the most favorable possible conditions for the conflict with hyper-humanism?” Quiet acquiescence, hopeless acceptance, or disgusted disengagement do not seem to be as faithful an option as persistent, grace-filled, strategically planned and executed witness.

Third, we should realize that heresy often serves to reform the Church by forcing it to clarify its theology and ethics. The great danger in a call to the Church to root out heresy is that it may be taken as license to act out against our brothers and sisters in Christ who we believe have lapsed into error. The word “heresy” itself raises the specter of fencing the communion table, heads and hands locked in wooden stocks, and burning at the stake. However, in God’s economy of redemption, even heresy is not without virtue as it forces the Church to clarify its beliefs and reform from within. Karl Barth, who in no way can be considered a milquetoast in staring down heresy, made the point of the need for heretical voices in moving the theological task ahead:

All heretics are relatively heretical, so even those who have been branded heretics at one time or another and condemned for their avowed folly and wickedness must be allowed to have their say in theology…. God is the Lord of the Church. He is also the Lord of theology. We cannot anticipate which of our fellow-workers from the past are welcome in our own work and which are not. It may always be that we have especial need of quite unsuspected (and among these, of quite unwelcome6) voices in one sense or another. So history, the history of the Church, of doctrine and of theology, enters the theological workshop and becomes a theological task.7

History seems to bear out Barth’s thesis for the place of heretical voices in the “theological workshop.” The clearest statements of Athanasian Christology, which have formed the basis of the Church’s Trinitarian understanding for nearly 1600 years, are found in Athanasius’ four Discourses Against the Arians. Both Donatism and Pelagianism forced Augustine to consider more deeply the doctrines of salvation by grace alone, the sufficiency of Christ, as well as the nature of the Church. B.B. Warfield claimed that Augustine “was not only ready for, but was looking for the coming controversy” with Pelagius.8 Warfield also pointed out that as Augustine’s prayer amongst the Pelagian controversy was not so much for victory over his nemesis, who he even hoped might be reclaimed, but for purity:

Pray, therefore, for us that we might be righteous, -an attainment wholly beyond a man’s reach, unless he know righteousness, and be willing to practise (sic) it, but one which is immediately realized when he is perfectly willing; but this cannot be in him unless he is healed by the grace of the Spirit, and aided to be able.9

There may be few better examples of this phenomenon of heresy sharpening and clarifying orthodoxy than the circumstances which gave rise to Calvin’s first edition of the Institutes of Christian Religion. Although the circumstances are somewhat reversed here, since it was the ‘Lutheranism’ which Calvin was promoting that was considered heretical by the governing powers. Nevertheless, Calvin was careful to point out that it is not his religion which was “new.”10 It was instead, Calvin argued, the religion of those “wicked persons” whose persecution of his comrades “by prison, exile, proscription, and fire” which was the departure from God’s truth.11 Calvin pointed out these persecutions in his “Prefatory Address to King Francis I of France,” claiming his desire to see such persecutions end as well as “to vindicate from undeserved insult my brethren whose death was precious in the sight of the Lord….”12 as the rationale for the construction of his great theological work.

In addition, any good five point Calvinist can also point out their theology arose in direct response to the five points of Arminianism.

Given this historical record, perhaps those of us who wrap ourselves in the mantle of orthodoxy should consider what elements of our theology may be infected with the hyper-humanist perspective. We should not presume to remove the speck from our brother’s eye without removing the log from our own (Matt. 7:5, Lk. 6:42). What golden calf have we allowed into our midst, indeed, perhaps even worshipped that has caused God to “send this plague upon his people” (Ex. 32:35).

It is possible that hyper-humanism is quite simply one natural endgame of Christian humanism. Perhaps it is only natural to expect that any emphasis on the dignity and worth of the human being in our theology, even as rightly inspired as the imago Dei, would eventually result in an attempt to seize the fruit off the tree in the center of the garden so that we might “be like God.” Could it be naïve to assume that an emphasis on the use of the original languages and historical context as keys to understanding Scripture, as well as the “inalienable right of private judgment” would not eventually result in a lower view of Scriptural authority? This does not mean that we throw out the Christian humanist baby with the bath water, but it does mean that we might open up a little the spigot of Scriptural truth and Holy Spirit-led inspiration, allowing some fresh water to pour into the tub.

Fourth, we must trust that in Jesus Christ the victory has already been won and that God will preserve His Church against every foe and even misguided friend.

God is the Lord of the Church and He will preserve it. Christ’s words assure the Church of ultimate victory, “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt. 16:18). John 15 is also instructive here:

Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. (v. 4-6)

The word heresy comes from the Greek word hairesis, which literally means “choice.” Heresy is a willful choice for something other than Christian truth. In making such a choice, those who indulge themselves in the heresy are fostering a cleavage between themselves and God. While God is gracious and makes great allowance for repentance, there are consequences to persistent, willful choices which run counter to God’s revelation. Among these consequences is the withering of ministry and witness. Indeed, the effectiveness of our ministry and our ability to bear authentic fruit comes only via our union with Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.

This passage, however, is not simply a Divine warning against the perils of life outside the vine of Christ. It is also a promise to those endeavoring to be continually grafted into the Vine, that they need not agonize over the apparent triumph of those not similarly grafted. For those who endeavor to live and minister outside the Vine, the prospects appear rather grim. They will have no victory. Those grafted into the Vine ought to pray earnestly, not in self-righteous piety, but in sincere pleading for God’s mercy first for self and then for others.

Where, then, does this leave us? By seeing the current struggle in the Church with perhaps a longer historical view, we can discern a truer picture about our current condition. This should fill us with the hope of the inevitable victory. Indeed, we already have “the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 15:57). We should also possess the spiritual confidence to search our own hearts as we boldly witness to the truth of Jesus Christ. Gustaf Aulen closed his historical study of the atonement, Christus Victor, with what might best be labeled a benediction. Let it serve that same purpose here:

For my own part, I am persuaded that no form of Christian teaching has any future before it except such as can keep steadily in view the reality of the evil in the world, and go to meet that evil with a battle-song of triumph.13

Lord, may it be so.

This article first appeared in Theology Matters, Vol. 12, No. 5 (Nov/Dec 2006).