The Inclusion Controversy

Introduction

I wrote this study in the mid-1990’s as one of a series of studies on how we Christians have made our decisions over the centuries. In secular terms the studies could be called the group dynamics of Christian decision-making. More accurately, they study how the Holy Spirit has guided us in major decisions throughout our history.

After I wrote the present study I discovered that much of its territory had already been covered by Luke Timothy Johnson in his book Scripture and Discernment: Decision-Making in the Church. When I look at his work and mine I see that we agree on practically everything that matters, but that from time to time I make a point that is not to be found in his work. So I offer this study as a supplement to his.

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The first great controversy of the church concerned the gentiles. Were they to be included in the church? Were they to keep the law of Moses? Were the males to be circumcised? Were Jews and gentiles to associate freely? If so, under what conditions? In such association were the Mosaic food laws to be observed strictly or could the laws be relaxed? And so on. The controversy involved a tangle of subordinate questions.

In this chapter we shall look first at the first-century context of the controversy. Then we shall explore factors in the ministry of Jesus which tended to lead toward the controversy. Next we shall study the controversy from two points of view — as recounted years later in the Book of Acts, and as found in a participant’s angry letter during the controversy, Paul’s Letter to the Galatians. Throughout we shall apply the sorts of principles we have seen in Chapter One and look for still others that may emerge.

First-century Judaism and gentiles

Since the conquests of Alexander the Great in the fourth century b.c., the people of Israel had been surrounded by a Greek culture that threatened to overwhelm them, and they had successfully fought the Maccabean wars to thwart attempts to acculturate them to Hellenism (i.e., the Greek culture that had spread throughout the Mediterranean world). Resistance to the Greek world was a condition of Jewish identity.

But also during this period Jews were spreading throughout the Mediterranean world. Contact between Jew and gentile was becoming an everyday occurrence. Some gentiles found Judaism appealing and Judaism seems to have been actively seeking proselytes. The Book of Acts depicts a situation in which synagogues had around them groups of “God-fearers,” gentiles who were attracted to Judaism, who listened in on synagogue worship and teaching and practiced a devout life, but did not become Jews. ⁱ

In this context two schools of thought evolved among Jews concerning the status of gentiles. One opinion was that gentiles could only be saved by becoming Jews and keeping the Mosaic law. The other opinion was that gentiles need not become Jews in order to be saved and need not keep the Mosaic law, but did need to keep the law that had been given to Noah (the “Noahide law”) at the time of the covenant signified by the rainbow.

The God-fearers were regarded [by some first-century Jews] as having their own Patriarch, Noah, and their own covenant with God, which God made with Noah after the Flood. Noah, it should be remembered, was not a Jew. He lived long before the Israelite nation came into being. Yet he was regarded as a holy and good man, who worshipped the One God, and who received a revelation and covenant from him long before the covenants of Abraham and Sinai, a covenant not rendered obsolete by those later covenants with Israel. Any Gentile who subscribed to the covenant of Noah was thereby saved. … The covenant with Noah involved …“the Seven Laws of the Sons of Noah.” … This code is found in various forms in the rabbinic writings. One form is found in the New Testament, in the rules laid down by Jamesⁱⁱ … for the guidance of God-fearers attached to the Jesus movement.ⁱⁱⁱ

 

Jesus’ ministry: movement, apostolicity, and inclusivity

Movement

Jesus started a movement. He did not establish an institution. He did not act alone as the prophets had done. He gathered people together, attracted people to himself, energized them, and started them moving. Where he was, people were coming and going, to him and from him. Where he sent people, there occurred healings, exorcisms, miracles. And after his death his followers spread into the entire Mediterranean world taking his message and the message about him to all peoples.

A movement is a succession of changes, one after another, one change leading to another, until finally the movement loses energy and dies out. Jesus started a succession of changes. Eventually that succession of changes died out and the group became the institutional church from which our present day churches descend.

That the primitive church was more movement than institution — unlike today’s churches — is an important factor in understanding this controversy, for it is one of the factors explaining how such a radical change as the inclusion of gentiles within a Jewish movement took place. In a movement change is the predominant norm; whereas in an institution staying the same — stasis — is the predominant norm.

A movement also has other important characteristics. A movement has an inspiring vision by which it is energized. “In-spiring” — that is, filled with spirit. Spirit and vision go together. Vision in-spires. If you and I are filled with a glorious vision of, say, educating the illiterate or healing the sick or reconciling warring peoples — if we are possessed by some great ideal — we are enthusiastic, energized, filled with spirit by this vision. The literal meaning of “enthusiastic” is important here. It means “possessed by a god.” One who is enthusiastic is one who is possessed by a god. So vision and spirit go together. When we begin our examination of Acts we shall see vision and Holy Spirit and rapid movement.

Apostolicity

Another important characteristic of a movement is its energizing and empowering of many people. Movements have leaders, but the vision which possesses the movement is of such power it tends to provide guidance for many of the common folk of the movement. Many Civil Rights demonstrations were planned and organized by designated leaders, but many others occurred spontaneously because ordinary people saw the vision vividly and responded to it. Movements tend to multiply and coordinate the actions of many people through the power of the vision and the enabling spirit.

Christianity has a special name for this characteristic — apostolicity. The church is apostolic, sent to carry out the vision given by her Lord.

This sending by Jesus involves entrusting and empowering by Jesus. He does not draw up a detailed list of changes to be made; instead he gives the apostles a short list of objectives, tells them he will empower them with his Spirit and to trust in the Spirit, and sends them out.

“Go … and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19–20)

“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:8)

That Jesus trusts and empowers his followers sets the conditions of our Christian decision-making today. We have not been given a detailed list of do’s and don’ts by Jesus. Instead we — the apostolic church — have been entrusted and empowered to make decisions in his Name and in his Spirit.

Inclusivity

The gospels tell us of a Jesus who creates a movement toward inclusion of gentiles by his radical inclusion of outsiders. He is remarkably free and open with the diseased, the poor, sinners, women, tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritans, gentiles. He incurs ritual uncleanness by touching (or welcoming the touch of) ritually unclean persons such as lepers and the hemorrhaging woman.

His openness toward non-Jews is of particular interest to us. The crowds that follow him include gentiles and Samaritans. He travels through Samaritan and gentile country. He speaks favorably of a Samaritan in the parable of the Good Samaritan. He enrages the people of Nazareth by pointing out that at a time of famine Elijah was sent to no one but a gentile widow, and that Elisha did not heal Jewish lepers but rather the gentile Naaman.

There are a few counter-indications, but the preponderance of the evidence points to a Jesus who starts a movement toward outsiders.

The inclusion controversy in Acts: The Spirit guides the movement

The Acts of the Apostles describes a movement guided by the Holy Spirit. Not only has the Spirit spoken through the prophets and the scriptures, not only is the Spirit poured out on the disciples on the day of Pentecost, not only is the movement a Holy Spirit-filled movement, but the Spirit speaks to and through believers. The Spirit speaks through Peter and others as they proclaim the word of God. The Spirit tells Philip to join the Ethiopian eunuch in his chariot. The Spirit tells Peter to go with the messengers from Cornelius and not to make any distinction between Jews and the gentiles gathered in Cornelius’ house. The Spirit tells the church at Antioch to set Barnabas and Saul apart for work to which the Spirit has called them. The Spirit sends Paul and Barnabas to Seleucia and Cyprus but forbids them to go to Asia. And so on. Throughout Acts we hear of the Spirit (or sometimes an angel) telling believers what they should do.

Wonderful! That’s just what we Christians are looking for in our controversies! — guidance from the Holy Spirit. And to have a whole book of holy scripture dedicated to that topic is surely a great boon.

But Acts does not tell us explicitly how Peter or Paul or other believers know it is the Holy Spirit and not some other spirit who is speaking to them. Acts just says, “The Spirit said …” or “through the Holy Spirit they …,” etc. So we shall have to look carefully at circumstances to see what we can discover about how believers distinguish between the guidance of the Holy Spirit and the misleadings of other spirits.

The succession of changes in the beginning days of the movement: momentum toward radical change

Vision and Spirit fill the beginnings of the movement. The resurrected Jesus confers with his disciples and gives them a missionary mandate, they witness his ascension, and soon are baptized with his Holy Spirit. They perceive both a gap and likenesses between the vision they have been given and the world in which they find themselves. They see the general shape of the task confronting them, the problem to be solved, and set out to work it through.

They quickly take care of some house-keeping matters. They select leaders. They establish a pattern of meeting and worshiping together. They begin looking out for each other, sharing goods and money. They establish group discipline.

Enthusiasm is high. Their leaders work signs and wonders. Living in expectation of the last day, they begin their mission. Their program of radical change is underway.

They claim that a higher authority than the law of Moses has arrived.

Peter … addressed the people. … “Moses said, ‘The Lord your God will raise up for you from your own people a prophet like me. You must listen to whatever he tells you. And it will be that everyone who does not listen to that prophet will be utterly rooted out of the people.’” (Acts 3:11, 22–23)^iv

 

They proclaim a new key to scripture — Jesus Messiah — whose coming reveals new meanings of scripture. They declare that scripture foretells and pre-figures what they have experienced. They proclaim a new way of salvation. They encounter many persons hungry to hear the word which they proclaim and they grow rapidly in numbers. The changes they begin create powerful enemies who begin to persecute the movement, creating a climate of “us” versus “them.” The movement’s tight-knit character and its sense of the gap between its vision and the world is reinforced.

And little by little they begin to move toward gentiles.

First actions in the spread of the movement

First spread of the movement to non-Jews (Samaritans): Action and policy

The first explicit indication of diversity of membership as characterizing the Christian movement occurs on the day of Pentecost when disciples are endowed with divers languages, and onlookers are from all over the Mediterranean world. Soon thereafter we hear of “Hellenists” as well as “Hebrews” within the movement. This diversity within the early movement is a stepping-stone toward the wider diversity to come.

The movement is not long confined to Jerusalem. It soon begins a step by step journey to the whole Mediterranean world. With the stoning of Stephen a persecution begins and “all except the apostles [are] scattered throughout the countryside of Judea and Samaria.” (Acts 8:8)^v Now believers must decide whether to proclaim the word to Samaritans.

In the encounter of believers with Samaritans we can trace a relatively simple process of decision-making and development of tradition. The encounter forces the movement to choose between the Jewish tradition of non-association with Samaritans, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the vision of openness set by Jesus’ ministry and by Jesus’ mandate to go out into all the world. Now that we are face to face with Samaritans, are we to welcome them or are we to keep ourselves separate in accordance with the Mosaic laws of purity?

Philip decides for openness. Does he consult with others in making his decision? Or does he do it on his own? We are not told.

Crowds of Samaritans respond to Philip’s message with eagerness, joy, and healings. The apostles send Peter and John to Samaria. We are not told why. Perhaps the Jerusalem authorities immediately recognize Philip’s action as a natural extension of Jesus’ ministry and send Peter and John in support. Perhaps they are not sure about his decision and want Peter and John to investigate. Perhaps they simply want to keep in touch with this new development. Or perhaps they are alarmed at the decision and want Peter and John to intervene.

Peter and John concur in the mission and lay hands on the baptized Samaritans for the receiving of the Holy Spirit. Then, as the two return to Jerusalem, they proclaim the word to many Samaritan villages.

We hear no more about the mission to the Samaritans, but it seems safe to assume that others continue it. The decision is certainly accepted and the movement proceeds toward the next wave of change. A policy has been set through this series of actions and now becomes part of the tradition.

The alternation of action and policy in movements

The mission to the Samaritans offers a simple, relatively non-controversial example of the alternation of action and policy in a decentralized movement. Had the Christian movement of the first century possessed the centralized organization of the later church, the apostles in Jerusalem might have looked about them for a ripe mission field, selected Samaria, and sent a mission team with a full set of instructions about what to do. In that case policy would have preceded action. But it did not work that way. Instead Jewish Christians went to Samaria, not as a result of planning, but in order to flee persecution, and there they were presented with questions of practice. They made action decisions; that is, practical decisions about what to do about a problem they were facing. Some of them probably decided not to associate with Samaritans, but others decided to welcome the Samaritans into the movement. Thus, in this case policy followed action.

How experience is acquired and tradition is developed by the mission to the Samaritans

In these incidents experience is being acquired by believers.

• Jewish believers learn what it is like to associate with and even include non-Jews.

• By extending Jesus’ ministry of healing and exorcism to the Samaritans the movement has an experience of responsibility, authority and power.

• Jewish believers see Samaritans receive the Holy Spirit, the same experience, unique to the movement, that they have had. In all likelihood this is taken as a sign of divine inclusion: to receive the Holy Spirit is a mark of incorporation into the movement.^vi

There are many other kinds of experience involved in this sequence of actions, but we don’t need to go into them all. The point is that these experiences constitute the beginnings of tradition in the sense of learning from experience.

A second way of seeing the mission to the Samaritans is under the heading of precedent for future actions.

• The movement will proclaim the word to non-Jews (at least Samaritans, and possibly others).

• The movement will baptize them.

• The movement will accept them as fellow believers.

• And each of these precedents involves precedents concerning conditions — the conditions of baptism, the conditions of inclusion in the movement. When do we baptize? When do we include someone?

A third way of looking at the mission concerns process precedent, the way in which the movement makes decisions.

• Individuals are able to make action decisions on their own but their decisions are subject to review by apostolic authority.^vii

• Action may precede policy in some instances.

• Policy may reverse the precedent set by action. This does not occur in these events, but the power of review carries this implication.

• The receiving of the Holy Spirit, eager and joyous reception of the word, and healings and exorcisms are signs confirming an action decision.

We must emphasize that in speaking of “precedent” and “tradition” we do not mean “unbreakable precedent” or “unalterable tradition.” Not at all. These are the beginning years. Much is tentative. We mean precedent and tradition in the minimal sense of patterns of behavior and thought that have been used without being overturned and are therefore more likely than other patterns to be followed in the future.

Other learnings about process: generation of problems, testing of change, reinforcement of a movement

Notice that in this example the problem (“What shall we do about Samaritans?”) does not arise because someone meditates on the bible or on Jesus’ words and says, “We must go to the Samaritans.” No. The problem arises because believers perceive a gap between vision and reality. The vision is a Jesus open toward outsiders who commands us to proclaim the gospel to the ends of the earth. The reality is that Jews and Samaritans do not associate. The tension between vision and reality generates a problem.

Note also the constructive role of conservative reaction. Asking questions about an action and investigating it (as the apostles in Jerusalem may have done) are often constructive. Indeed, without such reactions to force examination of change, the latter is liable to be ill-founded. Examined change is likely to be sounder than unexamined.

There is a further aspect to these events — the reinforcing and re-energizing of the movement. Nothing succeeds like success. Imagine what a difference it would have made if Philip’s ministry had met with hostility from the Samaritans. Would he have continued? It would certainly not be surprising if he had not. So the enthusiasm of the Samaritans, the growth in numbers, the signs and wonders and healings, and, above all, the baptism of the Samaritans by the Holy Spirit all in-spire, all energize, all keep the movement in movement. These changes, having met with evident approval of both human beings and the Spirit, will now lead to further changes, and are expected to do so.

Further actions in the spread of the movement

Baptism of the Ethiopian eunuch

The next action in the church’s movement toward gentiles is Philip’s baptism of an Ethiopian eunuch. We do not know whether the eunuch is Jew or gentile. However, Acts singles out this baptism to tell in some detail. If it is not the first baptism of a gentile, it is at least in preparation for it and Acts takes pain to show that it occurs by divine intervention through two divine inspirations and two coincidences.

The two divine inspirations are that

an angel tells Philip to go to the road from Jerusalem to Gaza, where he encounters the eunuch; and that

the Spirit tells Philip to join the eunuch in his chariot.

The two coincidences are that

as soon as Philip approaches the chariot, he finds the eunuch reading a passage of scripture used by believers to proclaim the word, and the eunuch welcomes Philip’s offer to interpret the passage; and that

as soon as the eunuch accepts Philip’s interpretation and wishes to be baptized, they encounter water (an infrequent occurrence in that part of the world!).

Acts clearly sees the coincidence of inspiration and immediate opportunity to fulfill the inspiration to be a sign of divine origin. God commands and then provides. We shall find this point of Lucan spirituality even more vividly illustrated in the story of Cornelius and his household.

We can say that divine inspiration and timeliness of opportunity tend to go together, and that, conversely, wrong or misleading ideas prove untimely. As a rule of thumb we can say, Divinely inspired action is timely.

Baptism of Cornelius and his household: Action and policy

The first century was timely for the spread of the new movement because, as we have seen, it was a time of encounter between Jew and gentile all over the Mediterranean world. And now that some Jews had become Christians and were being scattered by persecution, many believers were encountering gentiles open to the new faith.

Acts paints a picture of believers filled with the Spirit of Jesus, hungry to proclaim the word and encountering gentiles hungry to receive it. Yet they are unable to feed that hunger by baptism so long as they observe the traditional Jewish prohibition proclaiming gentiles unclean. How often must Peter and other believers have gone to bed frustrated and burdened by the prohibition! How often must they have felt the inconsistency between Jesus’ openness and the prohibition! How often must they have prayed! How often must they have asked themselves, “We have taken the message to the Samaritans. Why not also to the gentiles? Jesus was open to gentiles. Why shouldn’t we include them?” — to which, very likely, a voice responded, “Yes, Jesus showed openness and love toward gentiles, but he did not reach out to include them among his followers. He included only Jews.” Finally, the situation reaches a crisis. Something must give, and Peter is granted divine guidance.

In the baptism of the gentile Cornelius and his household Acts carefully shows us how the Spirit of the movement guides participants by a surprising number of means. (These means are italicized in the following description.)

Providential convergence of events in preparation for the baptism of Cornelius and his household occurs as soon as the Ethiopian eunuch is baptized. Philip is snatched away by the Holy Spirit, finds himself on the south of the Mediterranean coast and travels north proclaiming the word in the towns of Azotus, Lydda, Joppa and Caesarea, taking up residence in the last. Cornelius lives in Caesarea and thus is in all likelihood influenced to some degree by Philip’s preaching. Lydda and Joppa are soon visited by Peter.

The central part of the story might be called, “The Four Days of Cornelius.” On the first day, at three in the afternoon (a significant time, we learn later) Cornelius is praying and has a vision. In it an angel of God tells him to send to Joppa for Peter. On the second day at noon, as Cornelius’ messengers are approaching Joppa, Peter prays and his prayer turns out to prepare for the arrival of the messengers (convergence of events). He becomes hungry and while food is being prepared he has a vision which uses biblical imagery (unclean foods) sparked by his current state (hunger) and depicting a current problem (the relation of Jew and gentile). To use our modern vocabulary, we can say that Peter does a biblical meditation on a current problem. A voice declares the foods (i.e., gentiles and table-fellowship of Jews with gentiles) clean — “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” (Acts 10:15) And at that very moment (convergence of events) the messengers arrive asking Peter to go to the gentile household — Peter’s vision is confirmed by the timeliness of this event — and the Spirit tells him to go with the men (inspiration). He invites them to stay with him as his guests overnight, which involves a momentous step (risk) — associating with gentiles — a violation of the law. On the third day Peter and the men travel to Caesarea. And on the fourth day Cornelius gathers his relatives and close friends. When Peter enters the house and finds many assembled, he says that although it is unlawful for Jews to associate with or visit gentiles, God has shown him that he should not call anyone profane or unclean. Cornelius tells how at exactly this same hour four days earlier an angel directed him to send for Peter (a coincidence in time or omen which brackets the first and fourth days). Thus all who are present see how divine guidance has converged in these two lives to bring about this meeting. The two lines of guidance confirm one another. In addition, Peter no doubt perceives the marks of God’s presence in Cornelius’ life. We are told that Cornelius is not only a God-fearer, but devout, that he gives alms generously, that he prays constantly, and that he is upright and well-spoken of by the whole Jewish nation. Peter announces that he now truly understands that God shows no partiality for Jew over gentile; that is, Peter puts his experience into words, he reasons — draws conclusions — concerning it. He then proclaims the word, and as he is speaking, Cornelius and his household show clear marks of receiving the Holy Spirit — they begin to speak in tongues and praise God. Peter’s companions are “astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit [has] been poured out even on the Gentiles.” (Acts 10:45) Peter confers with his companions — “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these persons who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” (Acts 10:47) The companions assent to the baptism confirming Peter’s understanding and proposed risk.

Thus in this story Acts tells of the following different means of divine guidance — the posing of a problem, which consists of a gap perceived between an ideal or guiding vision and the present reality; biblical meditation; visions; inspirations in which the Holy Spirit (or an angel) directs action to be taken; convergence of events (timeliness); an omen; reasoning; marks of divine presence; assent of other believers; and risk or test in action followed by confirmation or disconfirmation through the presence or absence of resulting signs such as the above.

We will discuss these and other means of divine guidance in detail in a later section of this chapter.

Reaction to the baptisms comes swiftly. “Why,” ask circumcised believers in Jerusalem, “did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?” (Acts 11:3)

It is important here to notice that the critics have asked a question about the behavior of Jews. The question concerns the association of Jew with gentile, table-fellowship of Jew and gentile. They could also have asked several other important questions — “Why did you baptize gentiles?” “Why didn’t you circumcise them?” “Did you instruct them in the law of Moses?” And they could have asked about gentiles behavior — “Have they agreed to keep the law?” Perhaps they had these questions in mind. But it was the opening volley in the battle over the inclusion of gentiles, and chances are these questions had not yet been sorted out. One of the tasks in the early stages of controversy is to clarify and sort out the issues — and that takes a while.

Peter responds by telling the story of the Four Days, ending with the gift of the Holy Spirit. He adds an argument in support of the baptisms, “I remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said, ‘John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.’ If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?” (Acts 11:16–17) Thus Peter answers an unasked question — “Why did you baptize gentiles?” — and in so doing tells why he entered a gentile house and ate with them. God has shown his approval by giving them the Holy Spirit.

Notice also that Peter here appeals to the teaching of Jesus. This is another means of guidance by the Holy Spirit — conformity to the teaching of Jesus.

In this reply we also see another stage in the development of the controversy. When Peter first decided to associate with the gentiles, he had not yet seen them receive the Spirit; the gift of the Spirit was not one of the reasons for this initial step. But now that he has taken the risk of action and has seen the results, he can point to those results as a reason for the action. Risk-taking followed by favorable results is confirmed by those results. Favorable results confirm actions.

Further, to put the matter another way, Peter uses results of the action as grounds for having taken the action. Some grounds follow rather than precede action.

This is, again, a case of action preceding policy.

Reinforcement of movement, the building of chains of action

Favorable results are grounds, moreover, not only for action already taken, but for further action. That the Spirit gives favorable results to association with and baptism of gentiles provides grounds for extending the action.

Suppose, on the contrary, the gentiles had asked a lot of skeptical questions or had ridiculed Peter’s message. The movement toward the gentiles might have stopped right there. Favorable results further en-Spirit the movement.

Peter offers similar grounds years later, when the apostles and elders convene in Jerusalem to resolve the inclusion controversy. “In cleansing [the gentiles’] hearts by faith,” says Peter, “[God] has made no distinction between them and us.” (Acts 15:9) He and other Jewish Christians have seen the inclusion of gentiles result over and over again in the cleansing of their hearts by faith. Consistent favorable results become powerful grounds for continuing an action.

Thus we can see how favorable results help to build chains of action. Innovation often begins with tentative action, a small risk. If the action has favorable results, a further risk is taken. Peter’s initial step, association, results in marks of divine approval. As a consequence, and because of the Lord’s teaching about baptism with the Holy Spirit and the movement’s personal experience of that baptism, Peter turns to his companions and suggests these gentiles should be baptized. Thus because a tentative step has favorable results and those results conform to authoritative teaching and to believers’ experience, participants consult and decide to take a further step.

Another aspect of this is that the chain of action often consists of small incremental risks. First you put your toe in the water, and if it isn’t too cold, then your leg, and then the other leg, and so on. Opponents of change are certainly correct that the first small change is often but a stepping stone toward the big change. (If you let girls be acolytes they may soon demand to be priests.) But first steps do not always lead to final steps. Many a heresy has failed to win the day.

Spread of the movement to gentiles throughout the Mediterranean

After the baptism of Cornelius and his household, sporadic persecution continues to spread believers throughout the empire, increasing encounter of believers and God-fearers. Paul and Barnabas begin spreading the word to gentiles in Asia Minor. A recurring cycle of controversy erupts between proponents of law-free inclusion and those who would require circumcision and the law.

Analysis of the action phase of the movement toward the gentiles

Means used by the Holy Spirit to guide Philip, Peter and others

In this story we have noted many means of divine guidance — guiding vision; the posing of a problem; biblical meditation, visions; inspirations; convergence of events (timeliness); an omen; reasoning; marks of divine presence; assent of other believers; risk or test in action followed by confirmation or disconfirmation through the presence or absence of resulting signs such as the foregoing; and conformity to authoritative teaching.

Holy Spirit and guiding vision. The list above is a list of means-in-detail. They are like the particular utensils and ingredients a chef uses in cooking. But over all is the en-Spirited guiding vision. Where there is the Holy Spirit, there is the sacred vision. Where there is the sacred vision, there is the Holy Spirit. Peter and other believers are filled with the guiding vision of the movement and this vision is what the Spirit uses to move them to action. It is also the overall standard by which they test proposed actions. The leadings and the tests are expressed in the various ways listed above.

The posing of a problem. The group dynamics of the ’60s and ’70s analyzed change by reference to problems — people feel a need to change when they perceive a problem. More current theories emphasize vision — people are motivated toward change when they are caught up in a vision of what might be. I see the two as intimately connected. It seems to me that the catalyst leading to change is the stress created by conflict between the present situation and the guiding vision. For example, if I believe that parish churches should be pastorally sensitive to the needs of parishioners and newcomers (my guiding vision) and perceive my parish to be insensitive and unfriendly (see a gap between the present situation and the ideal), I feel stress to close the gap (I am posed with a problem). So I am motivated toward change.

Peter believes the Spirit of Jesus is calling him to reach out with the good news to all the world (the guiding vision of the movement). The tradition of Judaism places obstacles in his path. Therefore he has a problem and is motivated toward change.

Biblical meditation. We have seen how Peter does a biblical meditation on the food laws and gentiles. We also see throughout Acts the reinterpretation of scripture in the light of Jesus Messiah as key. Meditation on the scriptures in the face of some current problem or event is one of the means by which the Spirit guides not only Peter and Cornelius, but us today.

Visions. Visions and voices of the kind Acts describes are a stumbling block for modern culture. For us those who see visions or hear voices are crazy. Is there any way we can accept the events of the Four Days and still keep our credentials as modern men and women?

Acts’ three descriptions of Saul’s experience on the road to Damascus offer us a clue.

Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice. … The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. (Acts 9:3–4, 7)

“I fell to the ground and heard a voice. … Now those who were with me saw the light but did not hear the voice.” (Acts 22:7, 9)

“I saw a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, shining around me and my companions. When we had all fallen to the ground, I heard a voice.” (Acts 26:13–14)

In all three descriptions Saul sees a light and hears a voice. But the experience of his companions is described differently from one account to another. In the first account his companions hear the voice but see no one. (It is left open whether they see a light.) In the second account they see a light but do not hear the voice. In the third account they apparently see the light and we are not told whether they hear or do not hear the voice.

Clearly Acts wants to say that the experience is reliable, that it isn’t just a figment of Saul’s imagination, because his companions also see it (in the second and third accounts) or hear it (in the first account). But just as clearly Acts also wants to say that the experience is not one of ordinary sense perception, because Saul’s companions either do not hear what he hears or do not see what he sees. And, further, Acts is inconsistent about whether the companions’ experience is one of hearing or seeing. Acts apparently has conceptual problems with the event just as we do, yet in an unworried way. It is seeking to tell us that this is an experience as real and as reliable as ordinary seeing or hearing, even though it is different from ordinary seeing and hearing.

I suggest we moderns take our clue from Acts — take the visions of Peter and Cornelius as trustworthy but not as matters of ordinary sense perception. In our way of looking at things, we can say Peter and Cornelius were in “altered states of consciousness” or they had a “vivid imaginative perception” of the solution to the problem they were facing.

Inspirations. The word “inspiration” has been secularized in our time. It is ordinarily used to mean something like “enthusiasm” or “a good idea.” In our present context we mean it literally — the entrances of spirit into the human soul, in-spirations. Various spirits, including the Holy Spirit, enter the human soul and affect it in various ways. So we are faced with the task of discerning the spirits, telling the difference between leadings of the Holy Spirit and of other spirits. The marks given in Acts serve this purpose.

Convergence of events. We have already discussed convergence of events or timeliness. I would only point here to the dramatic convergence of many events in a timely way to bring about these baptisms — the readiness of the Roman world to hear the gospel, the encounters of Jew and gentile that sensitized believers to the readiness of gentiles and raised the problem of how to relate to them, the mission to the Samaritans, Philip’s preaching of the word along the coast and in Caesarea, Peter’s travel from Jerusalem to cities near Caesarea, the devout God-fearer Cornelius’ living in Caesarea, and the converging prayers and inspirations of Peter and Cornelius.

An omen. The coincidence in time, that this event begins at three o’clock one day and its closing incident begins at three o’clock the final day, is significant enough to Cornelius that he mentions it in his greeting to Peter. But it does not consist of timeliness in the sense we have just been considering. It is a not a timeliness of fit or readiness. It is an omen or portent. Cornelius looks at this symmetrical pattern in time and seems to be thinking it is just too neat to be pure chance. Surely it is a sign. However, as omens go, it is weak, and Cornelius mentions it only in passing.

This type of sign offends the modern soul. Carl Jung offers it to us under a cleaned up, modernized name — synchronicity — and with a long description and set of illustrations. ^viii But I have, for myself, not found a way to make it acceptable, even when I assume a determined post-modern stance in which mythological imagination plays a large part. Perhaps we should simply look at it as a thorn in our side intended to remind us of the wide distance between our rationalist world and the spiritual world of the first century.

Reasoning. When Peter says to Cornelius and his household, “God has shown me I should not call anyone profane or unclean. … I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (Acts 10:28, 34–35), he is stating publicly a conclusion drawn from many elements. That is, he has reasoned.

Peter has had to choose ideas to articulate his experience and observations, and by which to draw conclusions. According to Luke-Acts when Peter looks at gentiles (or anyone, for that matter), fear of God is an important consideration.^ix

I have done such reasoning in the writing of this book. I have had to make many choices of words and ideas by which to do my thinking — for example, “convergence of events,” “omen,” “movement,” etc. And these choices are fundamental to the usefulness of this book. If I have chosen well, the ideas will suggest further lines of enquiry and will fit the experiences of others well enough to be helpful. If I have chosen poorly the ideas will not lead further and others will not find them a good fit.

Similarly, in the Arian controversy we will see how at first some key concepts act as barriers to the reconciliation of the controversy and how, later, their clarification acts as a help. We will also see how reasoning over a period of decades clarifies the issues and makes both the problem and its solution easier to see.

Here we see the result of Peter’s reasoning. He has chosen ideas to express his experiences and he has put them together to form conclusions.

Marks. Marks of God’s presence are stated throughout Acts. Where we see virtues — e.g., Cornelius’ righteousness, his devotion, his generous alms-giving — we know God is present. And there are marks of the Holy Spirit — tongues and praise of God.

Assent of other believers. As we have seen with Quakers and Jesuits, we see here that one way to check out the soundness of a proposal is to confer with other Christians and ask their approval or disapproval.

Test. Another method for discerning the will of God is to risk action and then look at the results. Does the action lead to good or evil? Is the action confirmed by others? In this instance when Peter takes action he is probably not thinking in terms of test, but that, nevertheless, is the effect. He takes a risk and its results verify his decision.

Conformity to authoritative teaching. In this instance this means conformity to the teaching of Jesus. Later, once the New Testament has been written and the books canonized, this means conformity to scripture.

Figure 1

How the Holy Spirit guides Philip, Peter and others

• by an ideal or guiding vision

• by the posing of a problem

• by biblical meditation

• by visions

• by inspirations

• by convergence of events (timeliness)

• by an omen

• by reasoning

• by marks of divine presence

• by the assent of other believers

• by risk or test in action followed by confirmation or disconfirmation

• by conformity to the teaching of Jesus

 

Constructive results of interaction between movement and opposition: Preparation for policy-making

The mission of Paul and Barnabas to the gentiles of Asia Minor generates such high conflict that it is hard to see how anything constructive can occur. Paul and Barnabas are driven out of Antioch of Pisidia. In Iconium they are stoned. In Lystra Paul is stoned to the extent that he appears dead. In Antioch of Syria Acts paints a picture of uncompromising conflict. If Paul or any of his opponents have any desire to seek a compromise solution we are not told of it.

Constructive processes are at work, nevertheless.

Awareness of the problem. Many people become acutely aware that although association of Jew with gentile is forbidden by Jewish law, some believing Jews are doing it anyhow. There’s a problem.

Various evidences bearing on the problem build up — growth in numbers, signs and wonders, healings, growth in charity, prophecy and teaching, confutation of opponents, eagerness to hear the word, joy in the Holy Spirit, as well as opposition and misunderstanding of the message.

Examined experience. In such a situation not only is much experience with the problem accumulated, but participants think and talk about what is happening. Raw experience becomes examined experience.

Precedents. Little by little what was an innovation comes to seem usual. At first it seems daring for Jews to associate with gentiles, but as more believing Jews do so, it becomes (for them) a norm. And other practices become normal as well. Gentiles are baptized. Churches consisting of both Jews and gentiles are established. Elders are appointed. And, most importantly of all, circumcision is not required. Precedents are being set.

Justifying scriptural texts are identified. In Antioch of Pisidia when unbelieving Jews reject the message of Paul and Barnabas, Acts for the first time tells of the apostles’ using scriptural texts to justify the mission to the gentiles. Since by this time the mission has been going on for a number of years, the role of scriptural text is being painted as ex post facto justification for the mission rather than grounds. Does this mean that Acts does not see scripture as an initiating cause of the mission to the gentiles? that for Acts scripture comes only ex post facto?

Not at all. Scriptural text may come ex post facto, but scriptural vision is surely fundamental to what occurs.

Scripture and tradition are carriers of sacred vision. They are means by which generation after generation of the People of God come to see life in a distinctive way. In turn, the guiding vision of the early Christian movement is developed from the guiding vision of first-century Judaism as transformed by Jesus. This means that the vision guiding Paul and Barnabas and other early Christians is profoundly scriptural. The mission to the gentiles derives from scripture in this fundamental sense.

As Acts paints the scene, Paul and Barnabas are guided by a vision in which the movement is called to reach out to all the world. In the incident at Antioch of Pisidia they quote Jesus as teaching such a vision as proclaimed by the prophet Isaiah. This may well be the first time they advance such a scriptural text, but from the beginning their eyes have seen the world with this scriptural vision.

It is dangerous, therefore, in considering any Christian controversy to conclude that a particular view is not biblical on the grounds that scripture is not quoted. Instead we must look to see whether the underlying vision expressed in the viewpoint flows from the vision carried by scripture and tradition. As we see here, and as we shall see in other cases, scripture itself testifies that scriptural vision often can precede scriptural text in guiding the People of God. Biblical people have, in other words, a particular view on life and are likely to see things from that point of view before they think of specific passages of scripture that express the way they are seeing things.

That Acts does not tell us earlier of the use of scriptural texts in this controversy does not mean that from Acts’ point of view such use did not occur. It may be that Acts takes such use for granted. Nevertheless, it seems safe to say that Acts does not emphasize scriptural texts as a source of change but instead emphasizes the leadings of the Holy Spirit through scriptural vision and various other means. What Acts does do is tell of the gradual ex post facto accumulation of texts in support of the changes.

Argument from common sense. Besides pointing to signs of divine approval and appealing to scriptural texts, Paul and Barnabas use argument from common sense. In Antioch of Pisidia, when Jews reject the good news, Paul and Barnabas respond, “Since you reject it … we are now turning to the Gentiles.” (Acts 13:46) They will leave where they are failing and go where they are meeting with success.

Discovery of political realities. Politics involves the interests and concerns of power groups. To know political realities is to know who wants what, who has how much power, and who is willing to do what. Participants in controversy discover these realities, and discover them more and more as the controversy progresses. As we shall see, at the Apostolic Council in Jerusalem James’ resolution of the controversy shows a fine sense of the political realities. It is probable that he had been thinking through the problem for some time before the actual convening of the council.

Possible resolutions. There are several possible resolutions to this controversy. The infant church could have decided not to associate with gentiles. Or it could have decided to associate but to require circumcision as well as baptism. Or it could have decided, as it did, to associate and not to require circumcision in addition to baptism. Or perhaps degrees of association or membership could have been devised. Of the possibilities we know that two, at least, were tried. Paul and Barnabas practiced one. The circumcised believers who came from Judea to Antioch in Syria attempted another. Others pondered the problem, no doubt trying various solutions in their minds. On-going controversy generates possible resolutions.

Development of argument-sets. A controversy consists of opposing views. As the controversy proceeds the various views advance various arguments and counter-arguments so that in time each side generates a familiar set of arguments — an argument-set — with which to support its view and to counter others. Long controversies generate standard argument-sets for the various sides. We will discuss this at some length later.

F

Constructive processes at work during controversy

• Awareness of the problem is generated.

• Evidences bearing on the problem are built up.

• Examined experience is accumulated.

• Precedents are set.

• Relevant scriptural texts are identified.

• Arguments from common sense occur.

• Political realities are discovered.

• Possible resolutions are discovered.

• Argument-sets are developed.

igure 2

The Apostolic Council: Policy-making

Finally the controversy provokes an attempt at authoritative resolution. (Acts 15:1–6) “Certain individuals … from Judea” come to Antioch of Syria and begin teaching the necessity of circumcision.^x This leads to “no small dissension and debate.” Then the church in Antioch appoints Paul and Barnabas to go to Jerusalem “to discuss this question with the apostles and elders.” When Paul and Barnabas arrive in Jerusalem and report “all that God [has] done with them,” Pharisaic believers respond, “It is necessary for [gentiles] to be circumcised and keep the law of Moses.” This leads to the convening of the council.

The council is composed of apostles and elders meeting, in all likelihood, in the presence of various others — Judaizers, members of the church in Jerusalem, persons from Antioch (including gentiles?) and still others. The central authority lies with the apostles and elders of Jerusalem, who are persons at one remove from the problem. They have personal experience of mission to their fellow Jews, but most of them do not have personal experience of mission to the gentiles — Peter being a notable exception. They hear about the problem. So, for the most part, the apostles and elders are making a decision about the actions of others. Furthermore, they have had a passive relation to the problem in that they have chosen over many years not to intervene in the mission to the gentiles. By their inactivity they have given tacit approval to what has been going on.

We have already considered the distinction between action decisions and policy decisions. Peter and his companions of the Four Days, for example, are faced with action decisions. They have to decide as agents in the events, what to do now. The grounds for their decision-making are those we have examined above — convergence of events, visions, inspirations, etc. The apostles and elders, on the other hand, have to decide policy. They are not faced with immediate questions concerning their own behavior. They do not have to decide now for themselves whether to eat with gentiles, and, if so, how, or whether to ask them to be circumcised, etc. Instead they have to decide a policy for the whole church, for the foreseeable future, not just in the present situation but in all situations of a particular kind.

On the other hand, there is a problem embedded within the problem of the inclusion of the gentiles, a problem in which the apostles and elders do have to make an action decision, a problem in which they are having present, first-hand experience and in which they are agents — the political problem of two parties in conflict. There is a Judaizing party and an open-inclusion party that are putting pressure on them. They are being lobbied by both the Judaizers and by Paul and his party. The council’s decision will be expressed in terms of the inclusion problem, but it will also be a political decision deciding matters between two parties and between the church and the parties.

By this time the policy decision has been considerably narrowed down. Action decisions gradually become policy decisions by default if they are not challenged. The various action decisions over the years, and the acceptance of those action decisions by the apostles and elders of Jerusalem without intervention, have firmly established some precedents. The word is to be proclaimed to gentiles. Jews will associate with gentiles for this purpose. Gentiles will be baptized. Only one policy decision is before the council — shall circumcision (and hence the Mosaic law) be required of the gentiles?

Council deliberations are given by Acts in four stages (Acts 15:7–21):

“Much debate” (given by title in ½ verse)
A speech by Peter (quoted in 4 ½ verses)
A speech by Barnabas and Paul (given by title in 1 verse)
A speech by James in two parts
An argument supporting his decision (quoted in 5 verses)
His decision (quoted in 3 verses).

It is unfortunate for this study that Acts chooses not to tell us anything about the “much debate” except that it occurred. It does not give us the arguments pro and con — just standard arguments in support of the final decision.

Consider what we know about assemblies debating long-standing issues. What sorts of arguments do we hear? Contestants give and take views, but seldom does anyone say anything new. We hear the same arguments we have been hearing for years. And in the end it is the weighty leaders on each side who sum up those standardized positions. Except that the losing arguments are omitted, this is the what we see in the description of the Apostolic Council.

Peter presents four arguments.

1. The gentiles have received the Holy Spirit. (15:8)

2. God has cleansed their hearts by faith. (15:9)

3. We Jews have been unable to bear the yoke of the law. (15:10)

4. We Christians instead believe we will be saved through grace. (15:11)

The first argument is by now not only standard and compelling for Peter’s side of the question but for the movement as a whole. The gift of the Holy Spirit is a well-established mark of inclusion and, specifically, of God’s approval of that inclusion. Peter begins, thus, by reminding the council that inclusion of gentiles is not in question, for God has shown his approval. Only the conditions of inclusion can be in question.

The second argument is a variation on the first. The final two arguments are correlatives. And all four arguments appeal to experience.

Analysis of Peter’s arguments

At first sight it would seem that Peter is ignoring scripture and tradition, that he is appealing to experience alone. But the appearance is misleading.

The first of these experiences — the pouring out of the Holy Spirit — has been foretold by the prophet Joel:

I will pour out my spirit on all flesh;
your sons and daughters shall prophesy,
your old men shall dream dreams,
and your young men shall see visions. (Joel 2:28)

It is also the first promise of the gospel —

He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit. (Matthew 3:11; Mark 1:8; Luke 3:16; John 1:33)

In Jesus’ lifetime the promise is not fulfilled, but now in these last days it is being fulfilled. The gift of the Spirit, therefore, has great force not only because it is powerful in itself, but also because it is the fulfillment of scripture and of a dominical promise.

This gift, thus, is an experience in fulfillment of scripture and of promise.

It is important to note that experience does not cry out its meaning of itself. Experience gains meaning from the vision by which it is understood. Acts makes this point explicitly in its account of the day of Pentecost. On that day the disciples speak in tongues. Peter experiences this as the gift of the Spirit, but hostile observers experience it differently. For them it is not the fulfillment of prophesy and promise. These observers have a more worldly point of view — “They are filled with new wine.” (Acts 2:13)

The cleansing of hearts can be understood similarly.

The final two arguments concern experience of law and grace. They appeal to Jewish experience of the law and to both Jewish and gentile experience of grace, asserting that the grace of the Lord Jesus replaces the law as the means of salvation.

Here we see two oft-cited sources of Christian doctrine — tradition and experience — in direct confrontation. Experience of law and grace is being cited as grounds for overturning tradition as received by first-century Judaism.

Perhaps then the woman mentioned in the Introduction who sees scripture as used to oppress and who trusts her personal experience more than scripture is right and, paradoxically, scripture itself supports her view that experience is of higher authority than scripture and tradition. But not so. It is not Peter’s experience with Cornelius alone that leads to his changed view, but that experience as newly interpreted through his biblical meditation. And Paul clearly does not think experience by itself enough to settle the matter, for he spends extensive time and energy in Galatians and Romans to show that salvation by grace has deep biblical roots. Scripture is not overthrown by experience, but new insights into the meaning of scripture are wrought under the pressure of new experiences. As we shall see in Galatians, for example, Paul views the new understanding to be a change from seeing life in terms of one scriptural view to another — from seeing life in terms of the Mosaic covenant of law to seeing life in terms of the Abrahamic covenant of promise. Both views are scriptural, but the transformation wrought by Jesus leads from the first to the second.

It is important to note that Peter’s final two arguments establish more than is at stake before the council. The council is concerned with the conditions of inclusion and focuses just on gentiles, but this argument establishes a conclusion concerning both Jew and gentile. Neither Jew nor gentile will be saved through the law, but through faith. This conclusion is revolutionary for Jewish Christians. It is significant that Peter states the argument but does not point out its application to Jewish Christians. That would be to provoke an uproar and further controversy that would drown out the issue at hand.

Proceedings of the council continued

After Peter’s speech the council’s focus returns once more to the conditions of inclusion. Paul and Barnabas present an argument from experience, telling of “all the signs and wonders God has done through them among the Gentiles.” (Acts 15:12)

Then James presents explicit scriptural argument. He does not use the Hebrew text for his argument but the Greek translation current at the time (the Septuagint), which in this case mistranslates the Hebrew — and the Hebrew does not support his argument. Does this mean James’ argument is invalid? No. James’ argument is invalid only if the vision underlying his argument is not scriptural. That he uses a mistranslation is an accident. Whether his view is correct depends upon its consonance or dissonance with the vision taken by scripture. In most cases where scriptural text is cited to establish that a given view is orthodox and scriptural, the issue will be whether or not the text is properly interpreted; that is, whether or not the text is interpreted in consonance with the vision carried by scripture by and for the People of God. In this case the text itself is incorrect and the question becomes not whether the text is properly interpreted, but whether the interpretation in and of itself is in consonance with scriptural vision.

James now renders a decision that seems to be a political compromise.

I have reached the decision that we should not trouble those Gentiles who are turning to God, but we should write to them to abstain only from things polluted by idols and from fornication and from whatever has been strangled and from blood. (Acts 15:20–21)

Each party gets something. Neither party gets everything. The Judaizers do not get Mosaic law, but in the rules laid down by James they do get Noahide law. ^xi The supporters of open inclusion do not get law-free inclusion, but they do get inclusion free of Mosaic law. The decision, thus, is as much a balance between the two parties as James can achieve.

Development of the standardized argument-sets used in policy-making

We have already considered the fact that long-term controversies tend to develop standardized argument-sets. Now that we have seen the arguments presented at the Apostolic Council we are in a position to look more closely at such standardized argument-sets.

The key factor in the development of good argument-sets for use in policy-making is that the opposing parties keep in fairly good touch with each other, in continuing discourse over a period of years. When this occurs the opponents both advance arguments and hear each other’s arguments. When, in contrast, controversies are so bitter that the opponents cease to talk or listen to one another, arguments that seem convincing to one side are simply dismissed without a hearing by the other. In our own day the abortion controversy seems to be of this sort, and in it, as a consequence, only very slow progress, if any, is being made in development of argument-sets helpful to policy-making. But in healthy controversy such as the inclusion controversy a process of distillation takes place through the repetition of arguments in the face of opposition that tests them, probes them, and requires them to be refined.

The oft-repeated argument from the gift of the Holy Spirit gives us one example of standardization in Acts. There is a second consisting of Peter’s final two arguments at the council which we find used many years earlier by Paul.

Peter at the Apostolic Council: “Now therefore why are you putting God to the test by placing on the neck of the disciples a yoke that neither our ancestors nor we have been able to bear? On the contrary, we believe that we will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they will.” (Acts 15:10)

Paul in Antioch of Pisidia: “By this Jesus everyone who believes is set free from all those sins from which you could not be set free by the law of Moses.” (Acts 13:39)

Acts thus presents this argument as common to Peter and Paul.

The distillation of argument-sets has the following sorts of results —

• Clarification and separation of issues. As healthy controversies progress, issues become clearer and the differences between positions become more sharply delineated. When Peter baptizes Cornelius the first question is, “Why did you associate with gentiles?” Later it becomes evident that the central issue is that of law and the questions become, “Should gentiles be required to keep the law of Moses? and even more sharply, “What is the relation of law to salvation?” The last question is extensively explored by Paul in the later stages of the controversy.

• Focus and relevance. Issues become more focused; the arguments become more clearly relevant to the issues.

• Effectiveness. Arguments become more refined, more effective toward their ends. Ineffective arguments are dropped.

• Complementarity. The arguments on each side progressively take their opposites into account and become shaped to respond to one another.

• Comprehensiveness. As the controversy progresses disputants seek out a wider range of argument until a complete stance, a complete point of view consisting of all relevant perspectives, evolves.

• Cogency. The result of the above process is ever-increasing cogency for each argument-set. Often when persons not adhering to a particular party are presented with one party’s argument-set, they find themselves swung that way, and when they hear the opposing party’s argument-set, they are swung that way, because each argument-set consists of a complete, cogent argument.

• Standardization. As contestants repeatedly voice and hear the argument-sets, the arguments gradually take standard form.

Figure 3

Distillation of argument-sets by long-term controversy

• issues focused, made more clearly relevant

• arguments more effective, refined

• arguments complementary

• argument-sets comprehensive

• argument-sets cogent

• arguments standardized

 

Incorporation of the council’s decision: Final phase of policy-making

The final stage in any controversy is incorporation of its results by the constituency in some way —full or partial acceptance or rejection or modification. Officials may decide on a policy, but only if those who must carry it out and live with it decide to accept it can the policy be considered to have won the day. The decision becomes in fact what is carried out.

In this instance we can see both an acceptance and a transformation of policy. The basic stance of the policy rapidly becomes the norm — gentiles are included in the church without requiring Mosaic law. But the requirement of Noahide law dies out and is replaced by Christian law. ^xii

Thus it appears that the political decision of the Apostolic Council in essence accomplished two things. First, it maintained the unity of the church and, second, by so doing made it possible for the particulars of the decision to evolve in practice over a period of centuries.

This observation leads to a curious conclusion. On the one hand we see a scriptural provision — a New Testament provision — that is ignored by the church. Christians do not keep the Noahide law nor do we feel obligated to keep it. On the other hand, the value of a political decision is made manifest. This runs counter to our tendency to think that church councils should aim purely at truth, that political considerations are somehow of lesser value.

A further observation is in order. What appears to have happened is that the council set the basic stance of the church on two matters — inclusion conditions and law. Inclusion conditions will be those suitable to a catholic church (a church freely open to all peoples rather than a separatist church) and there will be some law. But the status of the law is not spelled out; the decision does not say, for example, that the law is necessary to salvation or that it and grace are both needed. The Noahide law is simply required, without explanation. The relation of grace and law is left open, and, as we know, becomes a hotly disputed issue in Christian history.

So what happens is that in the incorporation the basic stance of the policy remains, but particulars change and some important matters are left to later dispute.

Analysis of the policy-making phase of the movement toward the gentiles

Stance and particulars of the decision

Hard-fought controversies are like tugs-of-war. The sides pull against each other and the issue is settled by one side overpowering the other. The attention of the undecided tends to be focused on the back-and-forth struggle. Which side shall we choose? Which side will win?

Since long-standing controversies generate cogent standardized argument-sets, the choice becomes not so much a choice of conclusions as it is a choice of whole argument-sets and of sides.

It is also true that parties endure longer than issues. Issues come and go, but parties endure and take similar stances against one another on various issues as they arise.

It will be helpful to make a distinction between stance and particulars. A party stance is a distinctive vision of the world characteristic of the party. Particulars are the details in which a stance is expressed.

For example, in this controversy the choice of stance is between separatism and catholicity, between a party that wishes the movement to keep a distinctive identity separate from the world and bound to the People of Israel, and a party that wishes to move out into the world and freely include all peoples of the world. These stances are expressed in the particulars of circumcision or non-circumcision, keeping the law of Moses or not keeping it, observing the laws of purity or not observing them.

The choice in hard-fought debates is principally a choice of stance, since, as we have seen, the particulars may change. In this case the particulars conceded to the Judaizers soon drop by the wayside.

We should also note that the decision in such controversies tends to mean the adoption also of the argument-set in its support. The arguments in support of the council’s decision become authoritative for Christians. In the Arian controversy we will see that the adoption of the resolution involves also the choice of an argument-set that becomes orthodox for Christianity.

The politics of stance

The notion of stance brings the politics of controversy into the foreground. In our synods and other assemblies we often find ourselves caught up in contention between parties. We can’t just vote for a particular decision. When we make a decision we choose a stance. And since stances belong to parties, when we choose a stance we find ourselves forced into taking sides whether we like it or not. And that often gets in our way. “A plague on both houses!” is often our feeling. And so we want to avoid the decision, or find some way to make one without taking sides. Politics is getting in our way. We become very grateful under such conditions for a leader as astute as James who can craft a decision that somehow avoids a split between sides.

Hence also the appeal of the methods of the Quakers and Jesuits. They use methods explicitly crafted to avoid politics. Can we find some way to make this possible in our synods? That will be an important question for us in this study.

Divine intervention in the Apostolic Council

There is a remarkable contrast between the way Acts presents the action decisions of the mission to the gentiles and the way it presents the proceedings of the council. Throughout the action decisions we are told of specific divine interventions — visions, convergence of events, marks of the Spirit, and the like. But in the description of the council no such intervention is mentioned — no visions, no tongues, no inspirations — nothing of this sort. Instead the council sounds very much like one of our contemporary synods — debates, parties, arguments. Yet Acts says the council is guided by the Spirit. In the council’s decision we read, “It has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us … .” (Acts 15:28)

An important conclusion follows. The council itself — with its ordinary processes — is a means of divine intervention! This is not to say that the council is infallible. In fact, as we have seen, the council’s decision is altered in particulars over the course of time. The council’s basic stance — catholicity and some law — endures, but the particulars — the Noahide law — do not.

Another conclusion may be a possibility. Perhaps a primary purpose of an ecclesiastical council is to preserve the unity of the church, to arrive at a political decision that keeps the parties together, so that the church as a whole has time over a period of years to discern the spirits. Perhaps we should conclude that one of the virtues of James’ decision, with its balance of concessions to the contending parties, was to keep enough unity to make it possible for the church as a whole to discern the spirits over the next few centuries.

The Holy Spirit’s use of adversarial controversy

We should add here that Acts depicts the inclusion controversy as adversarial rather than collaborative. That is, opposing sides form, each fights for victory, and in the end the sides win or lose, in part or in whole. This means that from Acts’ point of view collaborative methods cannot make an exclusive claim to guidance by the Spirit. In Acts we see the Holy Spirit very much at work within adversarial controversy.

We need, however, to make one qualification to this observation. We have already observed that the parties to this controversy kept in touch with each other, continued in debate throughout. They did not withdraw from each other. The controversy was a dialogical adversarial controversy rather than a belligerent adversarial controversy. Where the parties are at war, where they wish to destroy each other, where they do not listen to each other, where discussion is absent, there can be little clarification of issues, little development of standardized complementary argument-sets, few constructive results.

So Acts depicts dialogical adversarial controversy, pursued in ordinary human ways and settled in a council of apostles and elders as a means of guidance by the Holy Spirit.

What then are the decisive factors in these ordinary processes by which the Spirit guides the council?

Decisive factors in the council: Personal ties, status quo, momentum

The decision at the council is rendered by James. We are not told how council members other than Peter, Barnabas, and Paul see the issue. But for purposes of analysis we are going to assume that James’ decision is reasonably representative of a large majority of the council.

We must also be clear about the ways in which the decisive factors in a council making a policy decision are different from those of agents making an action decision. There are processes within a council that are not present among agents and vice versa. There are several obvious outward signs of difference. Agents make their decisions on the run, in the midst of their problem. Policy councils deliberate at relative leisure, taking the time necessary to make a considered decision. Agents get their evidence first hand or close to first hand. Policy councils tend to get much of their evidence at second hand, by testimony of others. Agents make their decisions for themselves, for their own actions. Policy councils make decisions for others. Agents are likely to be members of just one party. Policy councils usually have multiple parties to contend with.

We can infer factors Acts sees as decisive for the council’s choice.

Personal ties. Personal ties determine many choices. In this controversy the majority has long consented to including the gentiles without requiring circumcision or the law. This means that for most of the council members, to change requires making a break, at least to some extent, in established personal ties, and making new ties with the Judaizing party.

Further, Acts portrays the weighty leaders — Peter, Paul, Barnabas, and James — as joining in support of one side. The ties of the majority to these leaders, and especially to Peter and James, are very strong. Rare is the assembly that fails to follow an alliance of its principal leaders.

Acts carefully emphasizes this point in the way it narrates the council. The movement’s leaders are given pre-eminence, and especially Peter, the chief of the twelve, and James, the Lord’s brother. Both are quoted explicitly, at some length and with placement that emphasizes their importance. Peter is quoted first. James is quoted last. And James renders the decision.

In contrast, the speech by Paul and Barnabas is given only by title. Their role is prominent in comparison to the anonymous debaters of the first part of the council, but subordinate in comparison to that of Peter and James. Acts thus pays careful attention to the weight borne by these leaders. We today may view Paul as carrying great weight, we may couple him with Peter in our thinking, but in the primitive church he is a controversial figure with many opponents. Acts gives greater weight to Peter and James.

Thus Acts pictures the power of personal ties — of members to their party and to the leadership — as strongly in favor of the supporters of catholicity.

Status quo: The status quo of the movement is greatly in favor of catholicity. By the time of the council inclusion of gentiles has been taking place for many years without requiring circumcision or the law. The Judaizers’ stance constitutes a radical reversal of precedent within the movement. Further, the Judaizers cannot even claim uncontested Jewish precedent. As we have seen, their view is only one of the first-century Jewish views — many Jews believe the law of Noah sufficient for gentiles. So because the Judaizers are asking for a change, the status quo of the group is against them. Unless the Judaizers can show compelling reason to change, the movement will continue to do what it has been doing.

Momentum: The momentum of the movement is greatly in favor of continued catholicity. There has been a progression of change in the movement toward gentiles. First there was the inclusion of “Hellenists” as well as “Hebrews.” Then the inclusion of Samaritans. Then the baptism of a gentile household. Then “some men of Cyprus and Cyrene … on coming to Antioch [speak] to the Hellenists also.” (Acts 11:20) Then the mission expands to Asia Minor, Greece, and the whole Mediterranean. And throughout all of this Jewish believers are having to decide upon degrees of association with gentiles, degrees of table-fellowship, degrees of keeping or not keeping the food and purity laws in that association, etc. There is a momentum leading from one change to another, from inclusion of one group of gentiles to another. And now at the council the question is not whether gentiles shall be included — that issue is settled — but whether conditions running counter to the momentum shall be imposed. Only in the most extraordinary circumstances, or only if a movement is dying out, could such a reversal of momentum succeed.

So personal ties, status quo, and momentum are portrayed by Acts as decisive factors in the council’s decision.

But what about argument? Doesn’t all the argument play some role in the decision? And what about scripture?

The functions of argument and scripture

To see how argument functions in this controversy it will be helpful to reconstruct, so far as we can, the Judaizers’ arguments. We are not explicitly told the Judaizers’ position, but we can confidently assume two major appeals. One concerns the relation of Israel and the world. The other concerns the Mosaic law and salvation.

We have already seen that since the fourth century b.c. the people of Israel have had to struggle against Hellenism to keep their identity. Separation from gentiles has been essential for their survival. But by the time of the Christian movement many Jews have compromised with the Greek world and many other Jews see this compromise as betrayal, as selling out to the world. For Judaizers the choice between catholicity and separatism is a choice between the world and the People of God.

If we were to put this debate into contemporary language it might sound something like this:

Judaizers. If we admit gentiles to the church without requiring the law, we will be overwhelmed by Hellenism; we will lose our Jewish identity.

Catholic party. God is not confined to Judaism. He works through Hellenism too.

Judaizers. You know what those gentiles are like. Unless they are required to keep the law of Moses the church will be infected with idolatry and sexual immorality.

Catholic party. We can accept Hellenistic culture without accepting that kind of misconduct.

And some of the catholic party — not Paul or his followers! — might add:

Some of c. p. We can take care of this problem by requiring the Noahide law. That will be sufficient to prevent infection from Hellenistic immorality.

(It should be noted that the Judaizers were right in one very important respect. The church did lose its Jewish identity and did become Hellenistic.)

This argument, then, is a discernment of spirits. The Judaizers argue that catholicity capitulates to the spirit of the world. The catholic party argues that the Hellenism is not to be identified with the spirit of the world.

The Judaizers’ second appeal is to those for whom the gift of the Spirit is not enough to provide assurance of salvation. They need the familiar assurance of keeping the Mosaic law. These are people uncomfortable with movement, people who want the security of familiar status quo.

Arguments from scripture are predominantly arguments of status quo. They appeal to the foundation upon which the People of God stand. They seek to show that the position being argued is grounded in that foundation.

The Judaizers can certainly show such grounding. Indeed their arguments from scripture must have been so familiar as to seem trite — in effect, “We are to keep the law because Moses says so, here and here and here.”

James’ argument does not reinterpret scripture; rather it maintains the commonly understood interpretation but applies it in a new way. The passages he uses have been read as belonging to the last days — in the last days the gentiles will come to the Lord. James reads these passages as applicable, not at some indeterminate future time, but now. We are living in the last days now, and so now the gentiles are to come to the Lord.

Thus the arguments in the Apostolic Council function to make clear the stances of the parties, and scriptural argument functions to show how the stances are grounded in scripture, to provide sacred grounding to those stances. Members of the council are to choose between two stances:

to include gentiles without requiring the law is —
of the Holy Spirit or
accommodation to the world;

for salvation —
life in the Spirit is sufficient or
both life in the Spirit and keeping the Mosaic law are required;

the movement finds a major grounding —
in the scriptural prophecies of the last days or
both in those prophecies and in the Mosaic law.

Each stance is cogent. There are sound reasons on both sides. The choice before the council is: to which of these stances are we being called?

As I sought (above) to recreate the Judaizers’ arguments I found myself feeling their power. The threat of the Hellenistic world must have been every bit as strong for Jews and Christians of the first century as the threat of the secular world today. I can feel the power of a stance which says, “We must keep separate from the world if we are to be true to our faith.” Therefore, I do not believe the arguments are the decisive factors. Arguments make clear the choices of stance, but arguments do not decide the issue. At least that is not how I sense that I choose my stances, or my sense of how I see others doing so. I do it by feel, by what feels right to me; that is, I choose the stance that feels most consonant with where I already stand. This means, in the case of the Apostolic Council, that the majority of members choose the stance most in accord with the stance they already take — a stance of movement into the world rather than separation from it, a stance of movement of the Holy Spirit grounded mainly in the prophecies of the last days in contrast to a stance grounded mainly in the Mosaic law. In the end it is the character of the primitive church as an en‑Spirited movement that decides the issue.

The inclusion controversy in Galatians: The Spirit guides a participant

The character of Paul’s Letter to the Galatians

In moving from Acts to Galatians we move from an overall view of the controversy to a participant’s action within it. We are shown, not the pattern by which the Holy Spirit guides the movement, but the response of one deeply sensitive soul to an event of the controversy. Turning from Acts to Galatians is like travelling from a wartime newsroom to a battle in progress. In the newsroom we stand at a distance from the war, hearing reports, tracing the course of events, following the movements of contending forces, receiving descriptions of the outcomes. In Galatians we are suddenly caught up in the midst of a particular battle, from the point of view of one of the combatants.

The situation is this. In Paul’s absence Judaizers have invaded the churches of Galatia and insisted that gentiles must be circumcised and follow the law of Moses, and some of the Galatians have apparently complied. The Letter to the Galatians is Paul’s counter-attack.

The letter is a very angry one. At its beginning, in the place in a first-century letter where it is customary to give thanks, Paul instead confronts the Galatians with an accusation—

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel. (Galatians 1:6)

He curses his opponents —

If we or an angel from heaven should proclaim to you a gospel contrary to what we proclaimed to you, let that one be accursed! (Galatians 1:8 and a similar curse in 1:9)

I wish those who unsettle you would castrate themselves! (Galatians 5:12)

He calls them names —

The other Jews joined [Peter] in this hypocrisy, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. (Galatians 2:13)

And, as we shall see, he advances extravagant claims of personal authority and harshly challenges and criticizes Peter and James and other apostles. I shall even go so far as to call Paul’s claims to personal authority “offensive” and a contradiction of his own views concerning the nature of the church. (But more of that later.)

What is going on? Why such an uproar? Why does Paul so misspeak himself?

The background of the letter

A fundamental ingredient of Paul’s anger in Galatians is that this cause — law-free inclusion of gentiles — is his “baby.” He is a man possessed. He and the cause are merged.

It is a common phenomenon, someone who is so caught up in a cause that he or she cannot separate self from the cause. If you attack the cause, you attack the person. So Paul feels deeply and personally attacked.

Further, at the time of the letter Paul is surrounded by enemies. Not only in Galatia is his gospel of grace being attacked. Not only in Galatia have his converts deserted him. He has raw wounds from a similar betrayal in Antioch.

At a “private meeting with the acknowledged leaders” (Galatians 2:2) Paul had laid before them the gospel he had been proclaiming among the gentiles. Whether that “meeting” was the Apostolic Council or some other meeting, it resulted in what Paul was looking for — support for his views about mission to the gentiles. And then Peter came to Antioch and actually joined Paul and Barnabas in table-fellowship with the gentiles. What more can Paul have hoped for! He must have been filled with great joy! He has received full apostolic sanction for his work! — sanction from the “acknowledged leaders” — sanction on the spot, in practice, from Peter.

Then suddenly everything goes wrong.

“Certain people [come] from James” and Peter draws back “for fear of the circumcision faction. And the other Jews [join] him in his hypocrisy, so that even [Barnabas] is led astray.” (Galatians 2:12–13)

What a blow!

Suddenly Paul loses not only all the apostolic support he thought he had achieved, he also loses Barnabas and the other Jewish Christians of Antioch who have stood with him! He finds himself alone in Antioch in defense of the gospel of grace.

And now, once again, in dealing with the Galatians he finds himself standing alone. He strikes back.

The argument-set in Galatians

One of the most important facts about Galatians is that it presents an argument-set. We shall select a few of the arguments for examination, but the first point to note is that the arguments are of a variety of types and together present a full stance. It would be tedious and unnecessary for our purposes to present and analyze all of the arguments, but to understand the nature of the argument-set we must look at some of the types.

The offensive argument: An argument for the authority of personal experience

In the opening chapter and a half of Galatians Paul seeks to establish his authority independently of any other authority. The others have betrayed him; he cannot depend on them. He argues from his personal experience. His authority, he insists, derives only from “Jesus Christ and God the Father.” (Galatians 1:1) He emphasizes that he is not “sent by human commission nor from human authorities” and his gospel “is not of human origin.” (Galatians 1:1, 11) Instead he has been commissioned “through Jesus Christ” (Galatians 1:1)and has received his gospel “through a revelation of Jesus Christ.” (Galatians 1:12) Nor when he received his gospel, did he “confer [about it] with any human being, nor … go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles.” (Galatians 1:16–17) He waits fourteen years before he finally checks out his gospel with the apostles! And, furthermore, in speaking of that he makes a point of his autonomy. And, in addition, “those leaders” — he means Peter! James! and other apostles! — “those leaders contributed nothing to me.” (Galatians 2:6)

This is an argument for the authority of personal experience. Because I have had a personal experience of Jesus, says Paul, my gospel is of authority, even when it is in conflict with the authority of “those leaders.”

This is a type of argument used not only by Paul but by Martin Luther, the women mentioned in the Introduction, and others who are radically unhappy with established authority or tradition. It is a distinct type of counter-traditional or rebellious argument. When I am unhappy with my tradition or my bishop (or pope or superintendent, etc.) it is often because they don’t accommodate my personal experience very well, and if I am bold enough, I will say so vigorously. So this type of argument appears in argument-sets when the position being urged is in radical conflict with tradition or other established authority.

Such argument is often offensive — and deliberately so.

Whenever I have read the opening chapter and a half of Galatians I have squirmed. Paul’s insistence on his own independent authority has seemed inconsistent with my view of Christian authority — and even with Paul’s own! I have sometimes paused and tried to find a way to reconcile what Paul is saying with the authority and dignity of the Christian community, with the Holy Spirit’s indwelling guidance of the church. I have tried to find a way to fit these harsh words into Paul’s view of the church in such places as 1 Corinthians 12 and Romans 12. But I have failed. So I have hurried on.

My present study has convinced me that these words are simply irreconcilable with any corporate view of church authority and with Paul’s own teaching. In this passage Paul is so angry that he misspeaks himself, going farther than his own views sanction. In 1 Corinthians 12:21, for example, where he is speaking of the church as made up of many members in one body, he teaches that “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you,’ nor again the head to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’” Yet here he insists that he possesses an authority which owes nothing to any other member of the body.

These words are simply offensive. There seems to be no other way to put it.

How Christians can call a passage of holy scripture offensive I will discuss in a moment. Here I plead for us to face up to the character of what Paul is saying, and not avoid as I have done for many years the fact that it is offensive. We must take holy scripture as it is and not censor it according to our own notions of what it ought to be.

Take — in its plain character — what Paul does. He says that Peter and James and the other apostles contributed nothing to him. He says that at the time of his call he did not consult with any human being. He speaks with contempt of “acknowledged leaders.” (Galatians 2:6) He calls Peter and Barnabas hypocrites. He says his authority comes only from Jesus Christ.

Thus he shows no respect for other Christians, for the corporate authority of the church, for the Holy Spirit’s presence and guidance within the church, for Peter or Barnabas. We know that Paul is isolated and has been backed into a corner. We understand that he must fight for the gospel entirely on his own. But could he not speak in sorrow? Could he not weep that Peter caved in to pressure? that Barnabas, his companion and friend and fellow-worker of many years, deserted him? And could he not show a particle of modesty?

A perfect human being would have behaved and spoken differently. But Paul is not perfect; so, in this case, under great pressure, he misspeaks himself — offensively. So Paul does one great good — he speaks truth — and one great, but lesser wrong, his lack of respect for other members of the Body.

It is a common situation — a radical spokesperson who inflicts deep wounds in the Body of Christ. The behavior is reprehensible. But are we to ignore such persons? Are we to cast them out?

No. The Letter to the Galatians is holy scripture. The message to us of the first chapter and a half is that even a spokesperson for God can speak in harshly unacceptable ways. A person can be offensive and still speak for God! When we are justly offended by someone we cannot just ignore them. The offense of the first chapter and a half of Galatians is one of its important messages.

We are still left, however, with the question of the authority of personal experience. Paul claims to have authority directly from the Lord.

Such a claim is unwelcome in almost any group. It is a challenge to the authority of the group. But there it is, in holy scripture. So apparently scripture sees a place not only for corporate authority but also for personal authority directly given by God.

Paul’s claim to authoritative personal experience reminds us of the claim of the woman pastor — “the most trustworthy knowledge comes from personal experience rather than from the pronouncements of authorities.”^xiii She claims that her personal experience has greater authority than “pronouncements.” Paul claims that his personal experience of Jesus Christ has the authority of revelation. The woman pastor, then, can argue that even scripture supports her claim to personal authority. But Paul understands that however valid his claim, for others to accept it he must find support in addition to his own word. So Paul advances many other arguments. The woman pastor’s experience has great authority — for anyone their own personal experience has great authority — but if she wishes to persuade others, she must find further grounds. Argument from personal experience alone will not do; an argument-set is needed.

Other argument from personal experience

A more usual type of argument from personal experience is to tell how the issue affects oneself personally. I want my daughter to be an acolyte; so I tell of her longing and what it means to me. Such argument appeals to a sympathetic chord in others. The hope is that others will either find a similar experience or feeling in themselves and will sympathize with that feeling in the speaker.

Paul often speaks of his spiritual experience. In Galatians he advances such an argument —

Through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:19–20)

Argument from examined experience

The above argument not only has the appeal of personal experience, the plucking of a sympathetic chord in the hearer’s breast; it also constitutes a reasoned or examined experience. Notice how Paul connects his personal experience of the law with crucifixion and union with Christ. His death to the law he describes as crucifixion with Christ. He is using imagery from Jesus’ life as a pattern by which to understand his own life.

He does the same when he describes his experience of the law as a dying to the law. He has tried to live as a law-keeper and the result was a failure, a death. But that death led to life in God, a life he experiences as Christ living in him.

He lives in union with Christ, and the pattern of Christ’s life is the pattern of his life. Christ’s crucifixion is Paul’s death to law. Christ’s resurrection is Paul’s life in God.

Paul uses other arguments from examined experience, for example —

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. (Galatians 2:15–16)

In our discussion of Peter’s use of reason^xiv we have already seen how reason functions to articulate Peter’s experience. Here we see Paul engaged in the same process. He makes key choices of terms for understanding his experience and drawing conclusions from it. We are so accustomed to the Pauline ideas and images they seem “natural” to us, but other choices were open to Paul and the fact that he made the choices he did accounts for their familiarity. His task was to articulate and examine his experience of two ways of life, the Pharisaic and the Christian.

He has had a kind of failure in law-keeping and a kind of success in life with Jesus. How was he to put these two experiences into words? How was he to understand them? The key terms he chooses are justified, works of the law, and faith. He could have made other choices; for example, saved and virtue and baptism, or made good and obedience to and following. He could have said, “A person is saved not by the person’s virtue but through baptism into Jesus Christ,” or “A person is made good not by obedience to the law but through following Jesus Christ.” Had he made different choices, Christian doctrine would be different.

These terms come from Paul’s Jewish heritage, but not only does Paul do a new thing by choosing these particular terms out of all the possibilities, he also connects them in a new way. The idea of Messiah or Christ he attaches to the name Jesus, a revolutionary claim. Of this, of course, he is not the originator. But to connect justification and faith in Jesus Christ — that is new. And to combine works and law in a pejorative sense — that too is new. And together these innovations constitute the Pauline revolution, for they create a whole new model of life.

Argument from the hearers’ experience

Paul makes a powerful appeal to the Galatians’ own experience —

Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? … Did you experience so much for nothing? … Well, then, does God supply you with the Spirit and work miracles among you by your doing the works of the law, or by your believing what you heard? (Galatians 3:2, 4, 5)

As we have already seen, this argument is a principal standardized argument of the movement. God shows his approval of the inclusion of gentiles — in this case, law-free inclusion — by giving them the Holy Spirit and by working miracles among them. The argument has already a canonical or semi-canonical status. And since it is to the hearers’ own experience that the argument appeals, it is even more powerful toward them.

Argument from corporate authority

Paradoxically one of the grounds Paul advances in support of his personal authority is the corporate authority he has attacked in the beginning of the letter. He appeals to the approval of the churches of Judea and the meeting of “acknowledged pillars” —

The churches of Judea that are in Christ … said, “The one who formerly was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy.” And they glorified God because of me. (Galatians 1:22–24)

When they saw that I had been entrusted with the gospel for the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been entrusted with the gospel for the circumcised … and when James and Cephas and John, who were acknowledged pillars, recognized the grace that had been given to me, they gave to Barnabas and me the right hand of fellowship, agreeing that we should go to the Gentiles and they to the circumcised. (Galatians 2:7, 9)

Paul may view his own authority as equal to that of other authorities, but he recognizes, nevertheless, the need of his argument-set to show grounding in corporate authority. To stand by yourself, however nobly or truthfully, is not sufficient for persuading others. An argument-set needs authoritative grounding in the community to which it is appealing.

Argument from guiding vision

Besides his appeal to his vision of life in Christ, Paul advances other important ideals of the Christian life —

As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:27–28)

Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. … Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. … By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Galatians 5:16, 19–21, 22–23)

Paul appeals to the Galatians on the basis of a vision which can have been in their lives only partially fulfilled — a church in which there is “no longer Jew or Greek … slave or free … male and female,” and in which there is “the fruit of the Spirit … love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” But this vision must have been for the Galatians — and still is for us today — a powerful motivating force.

A guiding vision is a model or picture of an ideal held dear by a group, an ideal toward which the group strives. It is experiential in that it is felt in the life of the group, but it is not experience in the sense of the actual but of the longed-for.

It is important to observe here that the first of these visions is of an all-inclusive, fully catholic church, a church which knows no barriers because of race or gender or servile status. This guiding vision is still working itself out today; it powerfully motivates many Christians. The inclusion controversy was settled in the first-century so far as gentiles were concerned, but the other types of inclusivity remained to be worked out. The controversy in that sense has continued right up to our own time — especially if we think of Paul’s list not as exhaustive but as a list of examples. Does not the Christian ideal of inclusivity include rich and poor, upper class and lower class, learned and illiterate, and the like? And is not the contemporary debate about gays and lesbians a debate about whether they should be included in the list?

No Christian argument-set will be complete without reference to such aspects of the Christian guiding vision.

The fruit of the Spirit is a similar guiding vision. It shows us the ideal character of the Christian community. It motivates us in our churches to a life in the Spirit that will result in such fruit.

Guiding vision is of the essence of a group’s stance. And because that is true, such guiding vision becomes a test of whether or not a proposal or experience is acceptable to the group. The characteristics listed by Paul have become in Christian practice tests for discernment of spirits. If, for example, someone claims to have had a vision of the Blessed Virgin, one of the tests for authenticity is to examine the person’s life for the fruit of the Spirit and the works of the flesh.

Appeal to guiding vision, therefore, is a powerful method of argument for or against a particular stance. I am more likely to adopt a proposed stance if I find it consonant with my already-held guiding vision. But if I have to change my guiding vision to adopt a proposal, I am likely to reject it.

Guiding vision, thus, is a very important element in an argument-set.

Argument from scripture

Paul is faced with showing that his gospel has strong scriptural roots, that his theology is not simply a radical innovation. Somehow he must show that the Mosaic covenant is being superseded, that scripture provides for this supersession, and that justification by faith has been present in scripture all along. He finds his solution in the covenant of Abraham.

He argues that the Abrahamic covenant is a covenant of faith (by Abraham) and of promise (by God), that the gospel was foreseen by scripture in the covenant of Abraham, that this earlier covenant was not annulled by the later Mosaic covenant, and that the latter was temporary and the former is still in force.

The Abrahamic covenant is a covenant of justification by faith in which the gospel is declared beforehand to Abraham —

Just as Abraham “believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness,” so, you see, those who believe are the descendants of Abraham. And the scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, declared the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, “All the Gentiles shall be blessed in you.” For this reason, those who believe are blessed with Abraham who believed. (Galatians 3:6-9)

It is a covenant of promise and it has not been annulled by the Mosaic covenant —

Once a person’s will has been ratified, no one adds to it or annuls it. Now the promises were made to Abraham and to his offspring. … The law, which came four hundred thirty years later, does not annul a covenant previously ratified by God, so as to nullify the promise. (Galatians 3:15,–16, 17)

The Mosaic law was a temporary measure to prepare for Christ; now that Christ has come it is no longer in force —

Why then the law? … The law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. … And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise. (Galatians 3:19, 24–26, 29)

Paul advances many other scriptural arguments, but these are enough to show that he is seeking to build a complete scriptural case for his gospel, showing that the gospel is not his invention but is fully scriptural.

Especially significant is his contention that the Mosaic covenant was temporary. He does not seek to reinterpret that covenant to show that it does not mean what it has generally been thought to mean, a tactic often used in later Christian controversies. Many contemporary arguments, for example, for recognizing homosexuality as an acceptable way of life seek to show that passages that have commonly been understood to condemn homosexuality do not actually do so. Nor does Paul argue that the Mosaic covenant has now been superseded by the New Covenant in the blood of Jesus. He surely believes the latter, or comes to believe it, for he speaks of it in the Corinthian letters —

In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:25)

[Christ] has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of letter but of spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life. (2 Corinthians 3:6)

But instead of taking this tack he seeks to keep his argument within the covenants of Israel, a far more conservative course than arguing from the New Covenant in Christ.

Now we see that the inclusion controversy can be understood as the “three covenant controversy.” The Judaizers contend that the Mosaic covenant must be applied to gentiles. The Apostolic Council decides for the Noahide covenant (or a limited portion of the Mosaic covenant, the laws for aliens given in Leviticus 17 and 18 — see endnote two). But Paul argues for the Abrahamic covenant of promise. Eventually, of course, for Christians these earlier covenants are seen as replaced by the New Covenant.

Thus Paul’s use of scripture suggests that for Christians a complete and persuasive argument-set includes as complete and conservative a scriptural case as one can make.

Further, we see in Paul what we may call experiential interpretation of scripture. He is not the objective, scientific scriptural scholar dear to the modern mind. He is not seeking to discover the writer’s intent. No. His method is the method of spiritual insight or discernment. He seeks in holy scripture an example of his own experience and the experience he observes in others, of faith in God and its results. He finds that example in Abraham and he applies his insight concerning such faith in God to what he finds in the story of Abraham. He applies his own spiritual experience to the interpretation of the Abrahamic covenant, and he uses the Abrahamic covenant to understand his own spiritual experience. His experience sheds light on the story and the story sheds light on his experience.

This stands in contrast to the “mere pronouncements of authorities” mentioned by the woman pastor. “Pronouncements” wound the woman pastor not only by their content, but also by their insensitivity to her situation. Experiential interpretation, on the other hand, not only speaks but listens; it connects the experiences of text and present situation. It seeks to illuminate a present experience in the light of scriptural experience, and in order to do so it must have a good feel for the present situation. In this instance Paul meditates upon present experience (his own and the Galatians’) in the light of scriptural experience (Abraham’s). You and I, he says to the Galatians, received the Spirit through faith in Jesus Christ and not by works of the law. Similarly, he continues, we see in holy scripture that 430 years before the institution of the Mosaic law Abraham trusted in God’s promise and as a consequence was reckoned righteous — so both Abraham and we have been set right with God by faith, not by works of the law.

Rebuttal

Two (at least) of Paul’s arguments are rebuttals. From them we infer two charges opponents leveled (or Paul anticipated they might level) —

You violate the law in the name of your supposed “Messiah” and therefore he is a servant of sin; and

Your supposed “Messiah” was cursed, for scripture teaches that one hanged on a tree is cursed. (Deuteronomy 21:23)

Paul responds to the first charge, as we have seen above, by arguing that he died to the law and that the purpose of the law was to prepare him for justification by faith in Jesus Christ.

He responds to the second charge by finding a connection not only between curse and hanging, but curse and law-keeping. A person is cursed not only by being hanged, but by failing to keep the law. (Deuteronomy 26:26) To this he adds the notion of redemption, identifying Jesus’ cross with the redemption out of Egypt and with redemption through animal sacrifice .

All who rely on the works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who does not observe and obey all the things written in the book of the law.” … Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us — for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree” — in order that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith. (Galatians 3:10, 13–14)

Thus, we are cursed by our failure to keep the law, but Christ becomes a curse for us by being hanged and in that way redeems us from the curse. This new image of Jesus as the sacrifice for redemption is captured for the Christian imagination in the Gospel of John a generation or two later by calling Jesus the “lamb of God.” (John 1:29, 36) This is one way in which deeper insight into both our experience and scripture occurs — doctrinal development. As we have new experiences or new controversies, we seek to make scriptural sense of them. We seek similarities between our present situation and the deposit of faith. And then we try various ways of making sense of the old and the new, and of capturing our insights in imagery and doctrine. Here the scandal of the cross is interpreted scripturally in terms of curse and redemption, and scripture is thus interpreted to foreshadow the cross.

Rebuttals are a frequent occurrence in argument-sets. As controversy continues and opponents hear one another’s arguments, the sides develop rebuttals.

The makeup of argument-sets: Acts and Galatians compared

In Acts 15 we find just two kinds of arguments — much argument from experience (reception of the Holy Spirit and cleansing of the heart by Jews and gentiles, Jewish experience of the burden of the Mosaic law, Jewish Christian expectation of salvation through the grace of the Lord Jesus, signs and wonders worked by Paul and Barnabas among the gentiles) and some argument from scripture (the Judaizers’ argument that the law of Moses requires circumcision and James’ arguments from the prophets).

In Galatians we find a much wider variety of argument — authority (personal and corporate), experience (personal and of the hearers), guiding vision, scripture, and rebuttal. We also find — and this is very important — a full stance depicted in Paul’s argument-set. From Paul’s argument we know where he stands in the tradition — he is rooted in the Abrahamic covenant — and where he stands in the movement — he looks to the inner Christ and the fruit-bearing Spirit for his guidance in what to do. We also know how he views the stance of his opponents — in clinging to the Mosaic law they are refusing to take on the responsibility of adulthood.

Figure 4

Some types of arguments in a full argument-set

• from authority (both personal and corporate)

• from examined experience (of both speaker and hearer)

• guiding vision

• scripture (traditional interpretation and reinterpretation)

• rebuttal
• reason
• tradition

 

Paul’s guidance by the Holy Spirit

In our examination of Acts we have seen the many ways in which Philip and Peter and others were guided by the Holy Spirit. From what we find in Galatians how is Paul guided?

First in importance, of course, is the “revelation of Jesus Christ” (Galatians 1:12) which he received from God “so that [he] might proclaim him among the Gentiles.” (Galatians 1:16) This revelation comes, Paul explains, after a zealous life in Judaism in which he was “beyond … many among my people of the same age,” (Galatians 1:14) and after he had “violently [persecuted] the church of God and was trying to destroy it.” (Galatians 1:13)

The picture in this description and elsewhere in Paul’s letters is of an intense soul who never does anything by half, but always by extremes, who swings abruptly from violent persecution of Jewish Christians to avid Christian mission. God uses this intense, extremist soul to build his church.

The revelation provides Paul’s guiding vision. Paul refers to this revelation again and again as his foundational authority.

But embedded in this experience and providing Paul’s means of understanding this experience is his immersion in scripture. Scripture provides the means by which he sees the world and understands his experiences. So it is probably more accurate to speak of these three things — the revelation, guiding vision, and scripture — as a single whole or three aspects of one continuing event, than to speak of them as separate sources of divine guidance. Paul, steeped in scripture, is given a revelation of Jesus Christ by God, which becomes his guiding vision.

But this revelation does not cease. It is certainly true that it has one key event at its center, but Paul sees it expanded and carried out in his experiences as a missionary. He sees others baptized with the Holy Spirit. He finds himself and Barnabas working signs and wonders among the gentiles. He sees the fruit of the Spirit in himself and in others. He and others are given a catholic vision of the church — of a church in which there is neither Jew nor gentile, slave or free, male or female. All of this validates the original revelation and makes it ever more clear and explicit. And all of it is the work of the Holy Spirit.

Despite Paul’s confidence in his revelation and despite his extravagant claims to its authority in Galatians, Paul does, however begrudgingly, recognize the authority of the church and of the apostles and elders. He does submit his gospel to the latter for approval. He does see the approval of the churches of Judea as worth something. So the Holy Spirit uses the authority of the church as another means of guiding Paul.

And then the opposition. The opposition is of great value to this extremist soul. Paul thrives on opposition. Opposition goads him not only to action, but to insight and systematic thought. The more the Judaizers contend for circumcision and the law, the more Paul has to argue for his position, the more he develops his insight and thought. And the more years that pass, the more fruitful the results. In Galatians we mine those results. Opposition is a means of guidance by the Holy Spirit.

And, finally, reason — Paul uses a lively and sharp mind to understand and make coherent the insights he has been granted.

Figure 5

How the Holy Spirit guides Paul (as seen in Galatians)

• by a revelation

• by guiding vision

• by scriptural meditation

• by the experience of others

• the Baptism of the Holy Spirit

• signs and wonders

• the fruit of the Spirit

• the catholic (widely inclusive) vision of the church

• by the authority of the church, of the apostles and elders
• by opposition
• by reason

 

Paul’s position, the apostolic decree, and the church’s incorporation: the law-grace battle continues

Paul’s position on law-free inclusion has come over into modern Christian doctrine, not as a position concerning Mosaic law and the grace of Jesus Christ, but as concerning law in general — any kind of law — and grace. And it has come over not as concerning gentiles, but as concerning anybody, Jew or gentile or any other category of human being. Now that, for the most part, Protestant and Roman Catholic have stopped quarrelling about this issue, we can say that the doctrine of justification by faith is standard Christian doctrine. So it seems that Paul has won his battle.

But has he? Isn’t it true that in practice, at least, the battle still goes on? Don’t we hear teaching on justification by faith and yet many, if not most, Christians practice justification by works?

The fact is that the apostolic decree included law in its decision — Noahide law — and that the church developed its own law and code, and law and grace have continued in uneasy co-existence ever since the Apostolic Council. The law-grace battle continues in practice to this day. Paul’s position is orthodox tradition. Paul’s position is highly evident in holy scripture. Yet so are the apostolic decree, the Letter of James, and the common works-of-the-law practice of Christians.

So we cannot look to a single strand of scripture — say, the Pauline letters — as settling doctrine all on their own. They must be understood, if we would seek standard doctrine, not only in the context of the rest of scripture, but also in the tradition — i.e., the understanding — that has worked itself out in practice.

My personal feelings are like Luther’s. If I could cast the Letter of James into outer darkness, I would. I see Paul’s teaching as vastly superior to that of the Letter of James. But I am not the determiner of what is or is not holy scripture; so I must reconcile myself to the fact that scripture apparently sees it as all right for some Christians to practice works righteousness, and I have to try to fit that into my theological views and tolerate it in practice.

For our study the significance of this point is that we may have to be willing in our controversies to tolerate other positions we find distasteful. It may be that there is biblical support for that other position, even if there seems to be better and stronger support for our own.

The three-legged stool and others

Our current controversies have spawned much recent debate concerning the sources of doctrine. Anglicans have for centuries advanced the three-legged stool of scripture, tradition, and reason as the source of doctrine. Roman Catholics are more likely to assert scripture, tradition, and authority.^xv Others want a stool with four legs — scripture, tradition, reason, and experience. And still others, of course, assert scripture alone.

Our study indicates that none of these formulas fits very well what actually occurred in the inclusion controversy. And the apparent division between “reason” and “experience” in the current debate is spurious, as we have seen.

Some may respond that the inclusion controversy is a special case since it is itself a matter of divine revelation, and now that the period of revelation has ceased we may look to scripture alone or scripture and one or more of the other sources cited. For the present we can leave this question open and see what occurs in the other controversies to be studied, but the inclusion controversy alone, even granting its status as revelation, suggests that what is needed as the source of doctrine is a full argument-set and what we have already seen suggests that a full argument-set will contain all of the sources named above — scripture, tradition, reasoned (or examined) experience, and authority — and will also contain guided vision, but most of all will be characterized by the completeness with which it expresses a stance. In short, there will be many sources but, above all, as many as are needed to express a full stance.

The Arian Controversy

Trial at Aquileia

It is September 3, Anno Domini 381. The place is Aquileia, a town of northern Italy. Two “Arian” bishops of the Eastern church — Palladius and Secundianus — are on trial before thirty Italian bishops. The charge is heresy.

For many years controversy has raged over the status of the Son of God. Is he true God of true God? Or is he divine in some lesser sense?

Two generations earlier the Council of Nicea had decided for the former. Arius, a priest of Alexandria, Egypt, who had ignited the controversy, maintained the latter.

Palladius and Secundianus have come to Aquileia under a misapprehension, expecting a general council of the church. Palladius has specifically asked the emperor Gratian whether Eastern bishops (who include many of his allies) are coming and has been assured that they are. But later, at the urging of Ambrose of Milan, the emperor has changed his mind. The council becomes a gathering of local Italian bishops and just the two Easterners.

When Palladius and Secundianus arrive, they discover they have been trapped. Palladius asks to meet with the Italians for a “private conversation.” But when he and Secundianus enter the basilica designated for the meeting, they are shunted to a small sacristy at one side, where they find themselves facing a dais upon which are seated Ambrose and a half-dozen other bishops. This is not to be a discussion, but a trial.

Palladius sits below the dais; Secundianus to one side.

Two accounts of the proceedings have come down to us — a transcript by stenographers appointed by Ambrose (the “Acts of the Council of Aquileia” ) and a description by Palladius (the “Fragments of Palladius”).ⁱ Although Palladius objects that the stenographers are biased, it appears that they acted much like modern court reporters and transcribed verbatim what was said, including not only many of Palladius’ most telling points but also the blunders and brutalities of the Italians. Surprisingly, there is only minor disagreement between Palladius’ account and Ambrose’s.

The text below is mostly my translation from the “Acts,” rounded out by the insertion of a few materials from the “Fragments,” and considerably simplified, especially by the elimination of repetitions and obscurities. In a few places I have added words of clarification. But the words, the events, the methods of argument, the attitudes, the give and take — all are true to the originals.

The “council” proceeds as follows —

Ambrose: Let the imperial rescript be read.

The deacon Sabinianus: We, Gratian, desiring that the clergy not be divided by ambiguity of doctrine, have ordered the bishops to gather in the city of Aquileia. We appoint the prelates themselves as arbiters in this controversy so that those from whom come instructions in doctrine are also those who untangle inconsistencies.

Without modifying the content of our earlier decree we wish now to prevent a useless superfluity of participants. Ambrose has made us see that there is no need of a crowd and that he himself and the clergy of the neighboring cities of Italy are perfectly capable of replying to the adverse party. We have decided, accordingly, not to impose on venerable men the fatigue of travel to unknown lands and the handicaps that come with great age or poor health or poverty.

Ambrose: Palladius, you have read Arius’ blasphemous letter to Alexander.ⁱⁱ It says that only the Father is eternal. If it seems to you that the Son of God is not eternal, give a proof in any manner you wish.

Palladius: You have connived to keep this gathering from being a full and general council. In the absence of our colleagues, the Eastern bishops, we cannot declare ourselves on matters of faith.

Ambrose: There has already been a council of Eastern bishops.ⁱⁱⁱ Now we’re having a Western one.

Palladius: Our emperor Gratian ordered the Easterners to come. Do you deny that he gave that order? The emperor himself told us that he ordered the Easterners to come.

Ambrose: Certainly he gave the order, since he did not forbid coming here.

Palladius: But the request was made in such a way as to keep them from coming. You remade the council under a deception.

Ambrose: We’re wasting our time. You have avoided debate long enough. Give us an answer. Was Arius right to say that the Father alone is eternal?

Palladius: I will not answer. You have not acted properly with your intrigues to deceive the emperor.

Bishops: When the emperor was at Sirmium, did you speak to him or did he force your hand?

Palladius: He told me to come here. I asked whether the Eastern bishops had been told to come. He said they had. Would we have come here if the Easterners had not been asked to come?

Ambrose: Let’s leave this question of the Easterners. What I want to know is your opinion. You’ve heard the letter of Arius. You deny being an Arian. Today either condemn Arius or take up his defense.

Palladius: You have no authority to demand that.

Ambrose: You’re the one who asked for this meeting.

Palladius: We absolutely refuse to answer your questions without waiting upon the judgment of a future council.

Ambrose: My fellow bishops, those who deny that the Son of God is eternal have been unanimously condemned. Arius denies it. Palladius does not condemn Arius. Therefore he too denies it. Ask yourselves then whether what he says is in accordance with the Scriptures or contrary to the Scriptures. The answer is easy, for we read that the power and divinity of God is eternal. And who but Christ is the power of God! Therefore Christ is eternal.

Eusebius: Such is the catholic faith. Let him be anathema who does not concur.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Eusebius: Arius says that only the Father is eternal and that the Son began one day.

Palladius: I have never seen Arius and I do not know who he is.

Eusebius: Do you condemn his lying faith as well as its author, or do you maintain it?

Palladius: Here — where there is no authority of a general council — I say nothing.

Ambrose: You hesitate to condemn? — after God has judged him by making him die like Judas, bursting open in the middle!

Ambrose motions to stenographers at the rear: Come forward. Take notes of our proceedings.

Palladius and Secundianus jump to their feet and turn to leave the room. Bishops from Gaul block their way, pushing them back. Palladius and Secundianus return to their seats.

Ambrose: You venerable delegates from Gaul, what do you say?

Constantius and Justus of Gaul: Let him be anathema!

All the bishops: Anathema!

Ambrose: Listen to the next passage from the letter.

Clerk: “The Father is alone eternal, alone without beginning, alone true, alone possessing immortality.”

Ambrose: What do you say about this?

Palladius: That Christ is the true Son. Who can say the contrary?

Ambrose: Arius denied it.

Palladius: Since the Apostle says that Christ is “over all, God blessed forever” [Romans 9:5], can anyone deny that he is the true Son of God?

Ambrose: I say the same, but that’s incomplete. If you mean to confess the faith plainly, declare the Son of God to be true God, in this same word order.

Palladius: I’m using the language of scripture. The syllables —even the letters — of divine scripture must be devoutly preserved. Therefore, in accordance with the Scriptures, I say that the true Son of God is Lord.

Ambrose: Do you say that the Son is “true Lord God”?

Palladius: When I say “true Son,” what more do you wish?

Ambrose: I’m not asking you to say just “true Son,” but that the Son is “true Lord God.”

Palladius: He is the true Son of God.

Eusebius: Do you confess that the true Son of God is “true Lord God”?

Palladius: The true Son of God is only-begotten.

Eusebius: Do you think then that it would be contrary to the Scriptures to say that Christ is true God?

Palladius: When the Son says to the Father, “that they may know you, the only true God, and him whom you have sent, Jesus Christ,” [John 17:3] wasn’t he completely sincere?

Ambrose: John says in his letter, “He is true God.” [1 John 5:20] Go ahead. Say the contrary.

Palladius: When I say to you, “true Son,” I also confess the true divinity.

Ambrose: You’re pulling a trick again. You keep saying, “the true divinity,” meaning the true divinity of the Father alone, and not also of the Son. So in order to be clear, say what John said, “He is true God,” or else deny that this has been said.

Palladius: No other has been begotten except the Son.

Eusebius: Is Christ true God or isn’t he? — in your opinion.

Palladius: He is the power of God.

Ambrose: You’re not being open.

Ambrose turns towards the other bishops — Let him be anathema who does not proclaim the true Son of God to be true Lord God.

All the bishops: Let him be anathema who does not say that Christ, the Son of God, is true Lord God.

The clerk reads: “Alone true, alone possessing immortality.”

Ambrose: Does the Son of God possess immortality or not, with respect to his divinity?

Palladius: Do you recognize the authority of the Apostle? He says of the Father, “The King of kings, who alone possesses immortality.” [1 Timothy 6:15–16]

Ambrose: About Christ, the Son of God, what do you say?

Palladius: Is the title “Christ” a human title?

Ambrose hesitates for a moment, then says: Both human and divine at the same time.

Palladius: Therefore, you must believe that it is not only Christ the human being who suffered in the crucifixion but God as well — which you have denied.

Eusebius: Why are you fixing on such minute details? When the impious text of Arius was read just now that says the Father is “alone the possessor of immortality,” you came to its support.

Palladius: I’ve been asking you questions too. And you’re choosing not to answer.

Ambrose: Give me your plain opinion. Does the Son of God possess immortality by virtue of his divine generation or doesn’t he?

Palladius: By virtue of his divine generation he is incorruptible; by his humanity he died.

Ambrose: It is not the divinity that died, but the humanity.

Palladius: Why don’t you answer my questions?

Ambrose: Are your insidious and treacherous questions inspired by the faith of Arius?

Ambrose addresses the bishops — What do all of you think of one who denies that the Son of God possesses immortality?

All the bishops: Let him be anathema!

Palladius: The divine nature is immortal.

Ambrose: That’s another trick. You’re not speaking plainly of the Son of God. And I say the Son of God possesses immortality by virtue of his divinity.

Palladius: Did Christ die or not?

Ambrose: In his humanity. It is in his humanity that he suffered. In his divinity he possesses immortality. Anyone who denies that is a demon.

Palladius: Does this upset you, this saying of scripture? — “The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth.” [Proverbs 8:22–23, 25.] Do you wish this passage were condemned since it calls the Son a creature?

Ambrose: That’s not what I want. I know how the passage goes. But it’s not speaking of the Son’s divinity; it’s referring to his humanity.

Palladius: You understand scripture badly, for clearly it is not the humanity that was “created at the beginning,” or “set up ages ago,” or “brought forth before the mountains.”

Ambrose: Let’s move on. Arius piled up many impieties.

Clerk: “Alone wise.”

Palladius: The Father is wise in himself. The Son is not.

Ambrose: So the Son is not wise; whereas he is Wisdom in person?

Palladius: He is called Wisdom. Who can deny that he is Wisdom?

Ambrose: Is he wise or not?

Palladius: He is Wisdom.

Ambrose: Therefore he is wise, since he is Wisdom?

Palladius: We are answering you in the words of scripture. Scripture calls him Wisdom but does not call him wise.

Ambrose: As far as I can see, Palladius is denying that the Son of God is wise.

Eusebius: Let him be anathema who denies that the Son of God is wise.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Palladius: We read, “I am the good shepherd.” Who would deny that the Son of God is good?

Ambrose: So Christ is good?

Palladius: He is good.

Ambrose: Then Arius is wrong when he says that the Father alone is good?

Palladius: Whoever does not say that Christ is good speaks badly.

Eusebius: But are you saying that Christ is good as God? I too am good, as a human being, since he has said of me, “Well done, good servant.” [Matthew 25:21]

Palladius: The Father who is good has begotten a Son who is good.

Ambrose: Are you saying that the Son of God is good as God?

Palladius: The Son of God is good.

Ambrose: So you say that Christ is the good Son, but not the good God, as we ask you to?

Let him be anathema who does not confess the Son of God to be the good God.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Clerk: “Omnipotent.”

Ambrose: Is the Son of God powerful or not?

Palladius: Isn’t he who made all things powerful?

Ambrose: Then Arius spoke badly? On this point at least you condemn Arius?

Palladius: How do I know who he is? I answer for myself.

Ambrose: Is the Son of God the powerful Lord God?

Palladius: He is powerful.

Ambrose: The powerful Lord God?

Palladius: The powerful Son of God.

Ambrose: But human beings are powerful too. What I am asking is that you confess that Christ, the Son of God, is the powerful Lord God; or else, if you deny it, give some proofs. As for me, I say that the Son of God is as powerful as the Father. Do you hesitate to say that the Son of God is the powerful Lord God?

Palladius: I have already told you that in an open debate we will respond as best we can. You’re trying instead to be sole judge. You’re trying to have a trial, not an open debate. We will not answer you now, but we will in a full, general council.

Ambrose: Anathema to him who denies that Christ is the powerful Lord God.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Clerk: “Alone powerful, judge of all.”

Palladius: The Son of God is judge of all.

Ambrose: Is he judge by grace or by nature? Human beings are also given the grace to judge.

Palladius: Do you say that the Father is greater than the Son or not? [John 14:28]

Ambrose: I will answer you later.

Palladius: I will not answer you, if you don’t answer me.

Eusebius: If you do not condemn Arius point by point, we will not give you the right to ask questions.

Palladius: I will not answer.

Ambrose: Is the Son of God judge or not?

Palladius: You will not answer the questions I ask?

Eusebius: We say that the Son of God is equal to God.

Palladius: You are acting as judge. These are your stenographers here. Is the Father greater or not?

Eusebius: In his divinity the Son is equal to the Father. In the Gospel we read that the Jews persecuted him “because not only did he violate the sabbath, but he also called God his Father, making himself equal to God.” [John 5:18]

Ambrose: Tell us also whether in his divinity the Son of God is inferior to the Father.

Palladius: The Father is greater.

Ambrose: Than Christ’s humanity.

Palladius: “He who sent me is greater than I.” Is it the human being who was sent by God or is it the Son of God?

Ambrose: You’re falsifying the Scriptures. And now we have proof. It is written, “I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I.” He didn’t say, “He who sent me is greater than I.”

Palladius: The Father is greater.

Ambrose: Let him be anathema who adds or subtracts anything from the divine Scriptures.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Palladius: You dare to believe in three omnipotent Gods, three eternal Gods, three equal Gods, three true Gods, three who work together, three who reign together, three with no difference among them, three who are confused together, three for whom nothing is impossible. But the Father alone is omnipotent and eternal and above all. The Apostle says that “He is the blessed and only sovereign” [1 Timothy 6:15] and that there is “One God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” [Ephesians 4:6] And David says, “There is none like you among the gods, O Lord.” [Psalm 86:8] And in the Gospel the Son prays to the Father, “that they may know you, the only true God.” [John 17:3]

Ambrose: It is in his humanity that the Son is inferior to the Father. In his divinity he is equal, as we have shown in the texts we have cited.

Palladius: You are supporting an impiety. We will not answer you in the absence of observers.

Sabinus: No one asks the opinion of anyone who has already spoken blasphemies without number.

Palladius: We will not respond.

Sabinus: It is written of the Son that “When God made a promise to Abraham, because he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself.” [Hebrews 6:13] For it is the Son who appeared to Abraham; that’s why Christ says, “Abraham saw my day and rejoiced.” [John 8:56]

Palladius: The Father is greater.

Ambrose: Let him be anathema who denies that in his divinity the Son is equal to the Father.

All the bishops: Anathema!

Ambrose: Was Arius right to call the Son “a perfect creature” or was he wrong?

Palladius: I do not respond to you because you have no authority.

Sabinus: You have responded so far as to deny that the Son of God is powerful, so far as to deny that he is true God.

Palladius: I do not accept you as judge, you whom I convict of impiety.

Sabinus: It is you who have required us to meet.

Palladius: I invited you to meet in order to confound you. Why have you plotted with respect to the emperor? You have opposed having a plenary council.

Ambrose: Your impiety has been condemned. We find it to agree with the impiety of Arius. You have our profession of faith. Now hear the rest. Since we have responded to you, respond to what is read.

Palladius: I will not respond to you, because what I say is not being written down. The stenographers write only your words. I do not respond to you.

Ambrose: Look! You see they write down everything. Besides, what is written gives ample proof of your impiety. Do you say that Christ is a creature or do you deny it?

Palladius: I do not respond. We should have both your stenographers and ours writing everything down.

Valerien: What you have said and what you have denied — everything has been written down.

Palladius: Say what you want. I will not respond unless observers come.

Ambrose: You have already come for discussion, but now that you are presented with Arius’ letter — which you have not wanted to condemn and which you are incapable of defending — now you want to hide and quibble.

Palladius: I have convicted you of impiety. I do not recognize you as judge.

Ambrose: Condemn the impiety of Arius.

Palladius is silent.

Eusebius: We’re getting hung up on unimportant details. Palladius has not wanted to condemn the numerous impieties of Arius. On the contrary, he has fully confessed them in supporting them. He who does not condemn Arius is like him and must rightly be declared a heretic.

All the bishops: Anathema to Palladius from us all!

Ambrose: Do you agree, Palladius, to have the rest of Arius’ statements read?

Palladius: Admit some observers and stenographers from both sides. You cannot be judges if we do not have observers and if there are not people from both sides to assist in the debate. We will not respond to you.

Ambrose: Who do you want for observers?

Palladius: There are many qualified persons.

Sabinus: After so many blasphemies you ask for observers?

Ambrose: Clergy ought to judge laity, not laity clergy. But even so, tell us what judges you’re asking for.

Palladius: Observers should come.

Ambrose, solemnly, to the assembly: Considering what we have today heard Palladius declare, and considering that he has refused to condemn the impieties of Arius, I pronounce him unworthy of the priesthood and deprive him thereof, so that in his place a catholic can be ordained.

All the bishops: Anathema to Palladius!

A Christian puzzle

At issue in this debate is a vexing theological puzzle inherent in Christianity. What are Christians to say about this Jesus whom they worship? How is he related to the God they call Father? How can they profess faith in one God and yet worship Jesus?

Moderns see this question in black and white. Either Jesus is God or he is not; and if he is God, how can Christians claim just one God? But in the fourth century the notion of divinity was looser; it came in degrees. This was a world that could declare an emperor divine. One common view looked at the universe as consisting of emanations. From God there emanated other beings partaking of divinity, but in lesser degrees. Divine being stretched step by step — diminishing at each step — from the fully divine to various lesser divinities, until finally it included material beings with only a trace of the divine. The influential second-century philosopher Plotinus had taught that from the One — that is, from the completely divine being — emanated Mind, a perfect image of the One, but, nevertheless, a derived being slightly less divine than the One. And from Mind emanated Soul, a perfect image of Mind but derivative and slightly less in divinity. And from World-Soul emanated individual souls. And so on.

Thus, for the fourth-century a tidy solution to the Christian problem was to see the Son as divine but derivative, one step below the Father. This derivationist view was especially plausible in the light of two other assumptions commonly made by early fourth-century Christians — the Son’s subordination to the Father and the Father’s impassibility.

Many texts of the New Testament tell of some kind of subordination of Son to Father; for example —

(Matthew 26:39 nrsv) Going a little farther, [Jesus] threw himself on the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.”

(John 14:28 nrsv) “The Father is greater than I.”

(Matthew 27:46 nrsv) About three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

As we have seen at Aquileia, orthodoxy was later to interpret such passages as applying to Jesus’ humanity alone and not to his divinity. But at the opening of the controversy the church had not yet arrived at this understanding and most Christians simply viewed Jesus as “subordinate” in some sense, without being exactly clear what that meant. Indeed, R. P. C. Hanson says that this view “could, about the year 300, have been described as a fixed part of catholic theology. … Every single theologian, East and West, had [previously] postulated some form of Subordinationism.”^iv As a result, a derivationist view seemed highly plausible to many.

The ancient world also saw God as impassible; that is, the perfect God — the Father — was incapable of suffering or of having feelings of any kind. In the Western world today vulnerability is almost a fad; to be vulnerable is a sign of strength, of maturity, of courage. But not so in the ancient world. Feelings were a mark of inferiority. Greatness faced adversity with detachment. This meant a further aspect to the dispute. God, the greatest of all beings, cannot possibly suffer. So how are we to understand the sufferings of Jesus? How can Jesus be divine and yet suffer? To this question the derivationist answer is, once again, highly plausible. The Son of God is divine in a derivative, lesser sense; therefore he can suffer. We can say that God — the Son — suffers on our behalf. But God the Father — the fully divine — remains impassible.

Throughout the debate at Aquileia we see the participants maneuver on these grounds. Ambrose and the Italian bishops keep stubbornly trying to get Palladius to say that Christ is the immortal God, the eternal God, the powerful God, the good God, the Lord God — that is, that Christ is fully divine. Palladius, just as stubbornly, keeps saying that Christ is immortal, eternal, powerful, good, etc. — that is, he refuses to add the word God and thus call Christ God in the full sense.

At Aquileia we see a small sampling of biblical texts that were hotly debated throughout the controversy. Each side had its favorites. The New Testament presents a perplexing variety of views. Here are just a few —

1. (Colossians 1:19 nrsv) In him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.
2. (Colossians 1:15 nrsv) He is … the firstborn of all creation.
3. (John 1:1,10 nrsv) In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. … He was in the world, and the world came into being through him.
4. (Luke 18:19 nrsv) Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.”
5. (1 Corinthians 15:28 nrsv) When all things are subjected to him, then the Son himself will also be subjected to the one who put all things in subjection under him, so that God may be all in all.
6. (Hebrews 5:8–9 nrsv) Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.
7. (Philippians 2:5–7 nrsv) Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

The import of these passages, taken together, is not obvious. a and b, for example, seem (at least at first reading) to contradict one another. a appears to say that Jesus is fully God; whereas b appears to say he is a creature. Similarly, c appears to be a strong affirmation of the full divinity of the Son, yet d seems to deny it, and e and f seem to be strong statements of the Son’s subordination. g is particularly hard to understand. On the one hand it seems to say that Jesus is equal to God, and yet, on the other, it speaks of emptying.

How are we to reconcile such passages with one another? Are we to conclude from them that Jesus is true God or a lesser God? that he was created? or not created? that he is equal to the Father? or not equal?

The central passage, however, the one upon whose interpretation the controversy seemed to hinge, is the one brought forward triumphantly by Palladius at Aquileia as his killing blow — Proverbs 8:22 and its following verses. It concerns wisdom, which is for Christians, the Logos or Word or Son of God.

The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago.

This appears unambiguously to portray wisdom as a creature, and, hence, not as true God; it is a huge stumbling block in the controversy for those who wish to say that Jesus is true God of true God.

Events in the Controversy^v

Beginning (318–325)

The trouble begins when some presbyters of Alexandria, Egypt, complain to their bishop, Alexander, about the theology of their fellow presbyter, Arius. Alexander investigates, and when Arius refuses to recant, deposes and excommunicates him. But Arius travels through the Eastern church gathering support. One of his supporters is Eusebius, the bishop of Nicomedia, who has the ear of the emperor Constantine, and who becomes so much the leader of Arius’ faction that they soon become known as the “Eusebians.”

Constantine takes alarm at this threat to the unity of the empire. He exhorts Alexander and Arius to put a stop to it, but the controversy continues. The emperor then convenes a general council to meet in Nicea in 325. He pays all of the bishops’ expenses. Almost all of the 250–300 bishops who attend are Eastern and anti-Arian. An eye-witness describes the council as follows:

When [the council] began to inquire into the nature of the faith, the formulary of Eusebius [of Nicomedia] was brought forward, which contained undisguised evidence of his blasphemy. The reading of it before all occasioned great grief to the audience, on account of its departure from the faith, while it inflicted irremediable shame on the writer. After the Eusebian gang had been clearly convicted, and the impious writing had been torn up in the sight of all, some amongst them by concert, under the pretence of preserving peace, imposed silence on all the ablest speakers. The Ariomaniacs, fearing lest they should be ejected from the Church by so numerous a council of bishops, sprang forward to anathematize and condemn the doctrines condemned, and unanimously signed the confession of faith. Thus [they] retained possession of their episcopal seats through the most shameful deception.^vi

 

According to the letter written by the council at its close, “the impious doctrines of Arius were investigated before our most religious emperor Constantine.”^vii To this the emperor adds in a letter to absent bishops that he took his seat as “one of yourselves.”^viii The emperor also says that

every point obtained its due investigation, until the doctrine pleasing to the all-seeing God, and conducive to unity, was made clear, so that no room should remain for division or controversy concerning the faith.

In addition, the council’s letter says, “The holy council even refused so much as to listen to [the Arians’] impious and foolish opinions, and such blasphemous expressions.”

The council decides to write a creed that will rule out Arianism. Athanasius, who attends the council as an aide to Alexander, and who later succeeds him as bishop of Alexandria, describes^ix the council’s efforts to exclude the Arian teaching that the Son is a creature. At first, he says, the bishops tried to use only scriptural language. They described the Son as “like the Father in all things,” as “the true image of the Father,” and as “always in the Father.” But, he continues, “Eusebius and his fellows … were caught whispering to each other and winking with their eyes.” The Eusebians can sign such a creed, for these words do not rule out creaturely status for the Son. Holy scripture uses such words in relation to creatures. Genesis 1:26, for example, describes human beings as “in the image of God.” And Acts 17:28 describes them as “in God.” Stronger words are needed. The council decides that the scriptural words must be interpreted by other words in order to make clear the equality of Son to Father.

The bishops choose to add a compound Greek word, homo-ousios, from homo, meaning “same,” and ousios (or ousia), meaning “substance” or “essence.” The Son is homoousios with the Father: the Son is of the same substance or essence as the Father. In English this has come down to us in the older translation of the Nicene Creed as “being of one substance with the Father.” The more recent translation says that the Son is “of one Being with the Father.”

In choosing to add the homoousios the bishops are between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, they can find no other way to exclude an Arian interpretation of scripture. On the other hand, to add this word breaks with tradition in two very disagreeable ways. First, to use non-scriptural language in a creed is at this time profoundly disturbing to the conservative soul; the tradition is that only scriptural terms are to be used for such a purpose. Second, the word chosen — homoousios — had been used by a heretic, Paul of Samosata, to explicate his doctrine, and had been condemned in 268 by a council of Antioch. Thus the bishops of Nicea are proposing to make an explicitly condemned, non-scriptural word a test of orthodoxy!

The council takes two other actions of interest to us.

First, it attaches an anathema to the creed.

Those who assert … that “He is of other substance (hypostasis) or essence (ousia) than the Father” … the Catholic and Apostolic Church of God anathematizes.^x

 

The bishops are closing a loophole. At this point in the fourth century the words hypostasis and ousia are synonyms. The bishops don’t want anyone to evade the issue by substituting the word hypostasis for the word ousia.

However necessary this action may have seemed at the time, it will prove, as we shall see, a major stumbling block to the resolution of the controversy. To settle the controversy it will be necessary to reverse this action.

Second, the council excommunicates and deposes Arius; and the emperor exiles Arius, Eusebius of Nicomedia and other “Eusebians.”

A general council of the church has spoken. The emperor has stamped the council’s decision with his approval and is taking action to enforce it. Arius and his supporters have been anathematized, excommunicated, deposed and exiled. Surely the controversy is over.

Middle (325–361)

And so it seems for a short while.

But for some reason Constantine soon permits the exiles to return and the controversy is renewed. Arius and the new bishop of Alexandria, Athanasius, become the foci of power struggles between the factions. The emperor decrees that Arius’ works are to be burnt and anyone who keeps a copy is to be put to death. But, contrariwise, Arius is restored to communion in Jerusalem and is about to be restored in Constantinople when he abruptly dies. Athanasius is deposed by a Eusebian council on grounds of misconduct and Constantine exiles him in the first of what will be five exiles for Athanasius. Over the years Athanasius is several times driven out of Alexandria by soldiers and greeted in triumph by Alexandrians when he returns.

Some of the charges against Athanasius seem grotesque to the modern mind, but apparently they did not strike his contemporaries that way.

There is the Affair of the Broken Chalice. It is charged that one of Athanasius’ priests, whom he had sent to investigate another priest, rushed upon the latter at the altar and dashed the eucharistic chalice from his hands, thus breaking it.

There is the Affair of the Dead Man’s Hand. It is charged that Athanasius suborned the murder of a self-proclaimed bishop. “And all we can find of him,” say the accusers, “is the severed hand in this box.”

These charges are easily refuted by Athanasius and his supporters, though not laid to rest, for his accusers do not cease pressing them.

Other charges are more plausible.

It is charged that Athanasius has threatened to prevent the sailing of the annual grain fleet from Alexandria to Constantinople. Constantine apparently believes this charge, for soon after hearing it he exiles Athanasius.

A more serious charge is that Athanasius uses violence against his opponents. Early in our own century archeologists discovered papyri which appear to substantiate this charge.^xi

As the controversy continues year after year, it is a mixture of theological debate, invective, and personal attack, back and forth among the parties. During these years Athanasius and Hilary of Poitiers are the pre-eminent Nicene theologians, producing a series of writings important to the eventual resolution of the controversy.

Creeds and anathemas produced by a long series of councils constitute the other important writings of these years. One unsuccessful effort of the councils is to find a scriptural set of words to exclude Arianism, words that do not depend on the non-scriptural homoousios.

Because a growing split between Eastern and Western churches gradually becomes apparent, the emperors convene a general council in 343 to attempt reconciliation. Eighty or ninety bishops from each half of the empire attend, but the status of Athanasius and other deposed Eastern bishops proves a stumbling block. The West wants to reexamine these cases. The East refuses to tolerate any interference from the West. Two hostile councils take place side by side. So much for reconciliation.

In 344 the West tries again for reconciliation by sending two bishops to the East, but their mission fails in a plot worthy of a comic opera. Stephen, the bishop of Antioch, tries to convict one of the delegates of lascivious conduct by hiring a prostitute to sneak into his room at night. The plot misfires, however, and Stephen is deposed.

Council follows council, each producing a creed.

Little by little four solutions are articulated:

The Nicene solution. The Son is of one substance (or essence) with the Father. This is the position championed by Athanasius and Hilary. It is the position of most of the West most of the time. In the final stage of the controversy it is the position championed, refined and clarified by the Cappadocian Fathers — Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory Nazianzus. The catchword of this position is homoousios (same in substance).

The Neo-Arian or Heterousian solution. The Son is unlike in substance to the Father. This position is articulated by Aetius and Eunomius beginning in the early 350’s. Its catchword is heterousios (different in substance).

The Homoian solution. The Son is like the Father. The point of this position is to be comprehensive and imprecise, to include as many points of view as possible by saying like and refusing to say more. It has sometimes, therefore, been viewed as a political, not a theological, solution. Its champion is Akakius. It first becomes evident at the Council of Sirmium of 357. Its catchword is homoios (like).

The Homoiousian solution. (Note the “i” in “homoi.”) This is sometimes called the Semi-Arian solution. The Son is of like essence with the Father. Its catchword is homoiousios (like in substance). This view is essentially conservative and serves as a bridge to the Nicenes, for in it both Athanasius and Hilary recognize, for all practical purposes, their own belief expressed in other terms, and — as these Western thinkers seek to show — inadequate terms.

The turning point in the controversy comes in 357, when the Council of Sirmium produces a creed profoundly shocking to conservatives. The creed of this council, says R. P. C. Hanson,

enabled everybody to see where they stood. … This is an Arian creed. Those who support it are Arians. Those who are repelled by it are not. … There were many in the East to whom [this creed] came as a shock. … Very faintly … the solution to the Arian Controversy begins to be possible. The period of confusion is slowly coming to an end.^xii

 

At about the same time Homoiousian theologians make a crucial distinction between the words hypostasis and ousia. Up until this point, as we have seen, these two words were both used to mean substance or essence. The Homoiousians now begin to use ousia to speak of God’s oneness and hypostasis to speak of God’s threeness.^xiii We today say in our creed and worship that the Father and the Son are of one being (or substance), and that there are three persons in the Godhead. The Homoiousians say that the Father and the Son are like in ousia and different in hypostasis.

It now becomes clear that when these non-Nicenes say that the Father and the Son are different in hypostasis, they are not saying (like the Neo-Arians) that the Father and the Son are different in substance. A major source of confusion is thus removed.

The Homoiousians also make a second step forward by the way in which they explain the meaning of homoiousios. Athanasius and Hilary find that the Homoiousians are attempting to say what they themselves say. And yet, these Nicenes seek to show, the homoiousios is inadequate to protect against Arianism. “You and we have the same faith,” say Athanasius and Hilary to the Homoiousians, “but the wily Arians will use your language to subvert the truth of the Gospel.”

In 359–361 Athanasius says,

Those … who accept everything else that was defined at Nicaea [except the homoousios] … must not be treated as enemies; but … we discuss the matter with them as brothers with brothers, who mean what we mean, and dispute only about the word. For, confessing that the Son is from the essence of the Father … and that He is not a creature nor work … they are not far from accepting even the phrase, “Coessential” [homoousios]. … Since they say that He is “of the essence” and “Like-in-essence,” what do they signify by these but “Coessential”?^xiv

 

Hilary is similarly irenic in his comments to the Eastern bishops —

The Lord is my witness that in no matter do I wish to criticize the definitions of your faith. … But forgive me if I do not understand certain points. … As to [the homoiousios] … our opinions are the same. But in dealing with the homoousion … you declared that it ought to be rejected because … our fathers, when Paul of Samosata was pronounced a heretic, also rejected the word homoousion. … You mentioned [also] this reason for disapproving of the homoousion that … it ought not to be accepted, because it is not to be found in Scripture. Your saying this causes me some astonishment. For if the word homoousion must be repudiated on account of its novelty, I am afraid that the word homoiousion which is equally absent in Scripture, is in some danger. …

It is absurd to fear cavil about a word when the fact expressed by the word presents no difficulty. …

We hold one and the same sacred truth. I beseech you that we should agree that this truth, which is one and the same, should be regarded as sacred. Forgive me, brethren, as I have so often asked you to do. You are not Arians: why should you be thought to be Arians by denying the homoousion?^xv

 

The emperor Constantius has a different perception. He sees the Nicene and Neo-Arian positions as radical extremes, and the Homoian and Homoiousian positions as similar and middle-of-the-road. With this in mind he seeks to bring peace and unity to church and empire by convoking a general council in 359 that excludes the “extremes” and includes only the “moderates.” He decides to make it a double council — the Easterners gathering at Seleucia in Cilicia and the Westerners at Ariminum in Italy.

But the Homoians and Homoiousians are not so much alike and not so moderate as the emperor thinks. Personal and political in-fighting marks the councils once again. A number of Eastern bishops come to Seleucia but refuse to attend the council because they are being accused of misconduct by other bishops. The emperor puts two imperial lay officers in charge. The Homoiousians outvote the Homoians, adopt a Homoiousian creed, depose various Homoian leaders, and go home.

The emperor is not pleased. He forces a Homoian creed on the Western bishops and on representatives of the Easterners.

Jerome remarks of this time that the world “awoke with a groan to find itself Arian.” The Homoian party now reigns in the East for the next twenty years.

End (361–381)

When Constantius dies in 361, Athanasius returns from his third exile and holds a council of Alexandria. This council is of particular importance because instead of denouncing, deposing, and excommunicating, it reaches out towards the Homoiousians. It sends a letter to the church in Antioch in which it carefully makes the distinction between hypostasis and ousia. This action is important not only because it moves towards resolution of the theological puzzle and because it reaches out to the Homoiousians, but also because it lays claim to the authority to reverse an action of the Council of Nicea.

The conflict’s resolution is now in sight. The Cappadocian Fathers (Basil of Caesarea, his brother Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory of Nazianzus) begin to spell out what becomes the orthodox doctrine of the relation of Father and Son. Questions concerning the status of the Holy Spirit follow naturally from this, and the Cappadocians sketch out what becomes the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity.

When two emperors of Nicene sympathies take charge of the empire — Gratian in the West and Theodosius in the East — the stage is set for the final settlement. Theodosius issues an edict declaring the Nicene doctrine to be the official doctrine of the empire. He orders all to believe “the single divinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit with an equal majesty and an orthodox Trinity.” He drives out the Arian bishop of Constantinople and convokes a council of the Eastern church to be held in May, 381.

Gregory of Nyssa tells us that everybody in the city is talking theology —

If you ask for change, the man launches into a theological discussion about begotten and unbegotten; if you enquire about the price of bread, the answer is given that the Father is greater and the Son subordinate; if you remark that the bath is nice the man pronounces that the Son is from non-existence.^xvi

 

As always, the council is filled with personal strife. It recognizes Gregory of Nazianzus as the bishop of Constantinople, and when the council president dies, chooses Gregory to take his place. Gregory soon loses patience, however, with members’ behavior and resigns both as council president and as bishop of Constantinople. He scolds the council in his farewell address —

I am weary of being assailed in words and in envy. … Some aim at my breast. … Others lie in wait for my back. … If again I have been a pilot, … the sea has been boisterous around us, boiling about the ship, and there has been considerable uproar among the passengers, who have always been fighting about something or another, and roaring against one another. What a struggle I have had, seated at the helm, contending alike with the sea and the passengers. … How has it been possible to avoid making shipwreck?

… The very quarters of the globe are affected by the spirit of faction, so that East and West are arrayed on opposite sides. …

I cannot bear your horse races and theatres, and this rage for rivalry in expense and party spirit. We unharness, and harness ourselves on the other side, we neigh against each other … Today sharing the same thrones and opinions, if our leaders thus carry us along; tomorrow hostile alike in position and opinion, if the wind blows in the contrary direction. … And what is most terrible, we are not ashamed to set forth contrary doctrines to the same audience.

… What sufferings have we failed to undergo? Ill-usage? Threats? Banishment? Plunder? Confiscation? The burning of priests at sea? The desecration of temples by the blood of the saints, till, instead of temples, they became charnel-houses? The public slaughter of aged Bishops? …

Elect another who will please the majority: and give me my desert, my country life, and my God.^xvii

 

Despite this disorder the council reaffirms the creed of Nicea and, for all practical purposes, settles the controversy. The “council” at Aquileia will take place a few months later. Arianism will survive among the Goths for several centuries, but the strife that has divided empire and church is concluded.

Vision and Reality

Ugly! This controversy is ugly! — especially as seen in the light of the inclusion controversy. The contrast could not be more stark. With the inclusion controversy we breath the air of a Christian ideal. This is the way to conduct our controversies. But with the Arian controversy we come to earth with a painful thud. This is the way it is. This is the way we usually conduct ourselves. Oh, not in every detail, and perhaps our present-day conduct is somewhat better. But this is much closer to our own experience than the inclusion controversy.

So what do we conclude? Let’s take it step by step.

The inclusion controversy as found in the Book of Acts is a Christian vision of how things ought to be.

The Arian controversy and the controversies since then are realities. They are how things are.

Vision and reality — that’s what we are seeing.

In Acts Luke portrays a model for us to follow. The Arian controversy shows us many hard realities we must face.

In Paul’s letters we find both vision and reality. He paints a vision of Christian community, a model of our life together, and at the same time faces the hard earthly facts of our shortcomings. But in Paul vision and reality are not opposites. The vision is embodied in the reality. The church in reality consists not only of human strengths and weaknesses, but also of a divine-human union. The Corinthian church is the Body of Christ as well as a hotbed of squabbling and faction.

What, then, are we to make of the Arian controversy? Can we discern divine-human reality at its heart? Or is the fourth-century church simply a corrupt degeneration of the primitive church?

We can individualize this question by looking at Ambrose.

I find his behavior at Aquileia very disappointing. I have thought him a great saint of the church, a hero. But his conduct at Aquileia is shocking. He acts as prosecutor, judge and jury. He manipulates the emperor and council to set up a stacked trial. He tries to browbeat Palladius and Secundianus. He leads the chorus of “Anathema!”

Most shocking of all is his complacently closed mind. We Americans value an open mind, a free discussion. Ambrose shows no awareness of such values; he seems fully at ease with behavior and attitudes that make us deeply uncomfortable.

But we must recall that he was a man of his time. What shocks us at Aquileia is his harmony with his time. We are shocked because of our cultural innocence. We naïvely expect a “saint” to behave in harmony with our own highest values. We observe Ambrose’s world from the perspective of our own. And then we’re dismayed when those worlds clash.

The bishops at Aquileia are simply persons of the fourth-century Roman empire. What we see as grievous sins and faults are just fourth-century behavior and attitudes. Eventually these values result in the horrors of the Inquisition. And in reaction to those horrors our modern values of free speech are born. But Ambrose and his fellow bishops live many centuries before these consequences become evident.

It is not easy — it is perhaps not possible — to enter the fourth-century mind. Perhaps the best we can do is peer in the windows with empathy.

What mind-set makes it possible for fourth-century Christians — for Athanasius, for Ambrose, for Hilary, for Basil — to pursue “heretics” with such one-sided vigor?

Piety, impiety, and religious understanding

A modern reader encountering the Arian controversy for the first time is struck immediately by the name-calling and invective of the combatants. These people see each other in moral terms. Their combat is not an impartial search for truth. It is war against evil. Athanasius, for example, sees his opponents as so evil that he calls upon his readers to hate them. He calls them by bestial names — dogs, wolves, chameleons, leeches, swine, etc. Gregory of Nyssa talks of spitting on their disgusting doctrine. Hilary of Poitiers accuses them of ignorance, faithlessness, treason, crooked minds, venomous speech, godlessness and the like.

But the most common — and the most revealing — accusation is impiety or irreligion. In the midst of the name-calling it is easy to miss the significance of this charge. It sounds like just another epithet, but it is not.

A careful reading shows that the words piety, impiety, religious, irreligious and their cognates are often used in conjunction with the words true and false; and, further, they are often used instead of true and false. Just as true and false are used to pronounce conclusions, so also are pious and impious. To say that a doctrine is pious means it is to be accepted. To say that it is impious means it is to be rejected.

A common fourth-century form of argument is what may be called reductio ad impietatem — showing that your opponent’s position leads to an impiety. For example, in opposition to the Arian contention that there was a time when the Son was not, Athanasius points out that this means there was a time when the Logos or Reason of God was not; that is, there was a time when the Father was without Reason — an obvious impiety. Similarly, Gregory of Nyssa argues that since the Son is the Light of God, if there was a time when the Son was not, it follows that the Father was once in darkness — another obvious impiety. Again, Basil of Caesarea counters the Arian assertion that the Son is “after the Father” by saying that this is to use a human measure (time) for the Godhead — a breach of true religion.

This kind of reasoning does not consist merely of substituting the conception of piety for truth and impiety for falsehood. There is a different world of mind and spirit involved, and it is that world we are interested in entering so far as possible.

Our modern world pays allegiance to objective reasoning, to a free marketplace of ideas. We are offended by fourth-century invective and heresy hunting because they violate our sense of impartial truth-seeking. In respect for truth we believe we should be ready not only to consider ideas from any source, however repugnant to us, but also to encourage a wide variety of ideas.

The fourth-century had a different ideal — the worship of God. Nicenes and Arians alike agreed that piety was the deciding factor. Their purpose was piety. Belief was not a matter of objective reasoning. Impartiality was not possible. Impersonality was not possible. Piety was personal. Belief was not a matter just of ideas, but of personal conviction. The ideas under debate marked choices and the choices were good (pious) or evil (impious).

To get the feel of this mind-set it may be helpful to use some modern examples. Suppose someone suggests there may be justification for the Holocaust. What is our reaction? Shock. Horror. A refusal even to consider the possibility. Impartial reasoning, objective logic, the free marketplace of ideas give way to more important values — decency, respect for humanity, the sacredness of human life.

Again, from time to time debate breaks out on academic campuses between those who would investigate, say, the comparative intellectual capacities of the races, and those who find such an “impartial” or “scientific” investigation repulsive.

Or again, if someone proposes an impartial investigation of the advantages and disadvantages of pedophilia we have similar reactions. Can there be any doubt on this matter? And does not the person who suggests such an investigation reveal a deep personal immorality?

Even in our liberal modern world, moral and spiritual values sometimes are felt to take precedence over impartial truth-seeking — or, rather, “impartiality” in some matters is felt to be a moral blemish. Some matters are obviously wrong (impious!) and to argue them is wrong.

Such, I suggest, were the attitudes of our fourth-century forbears concerning impiety. Some doctrines were impious even to consider.

What has changed? Why are liberal moderns able to be religiously tolerant? Why am I able to leave my Jehovah’s Witness neighbor alone on matters of religion even though I fear such religion to be deeply harmful? What do we say to ourselves in these instances?

Three things come to mind. The first is that I may be wrong. My neighbor’s religion may not be harmful at all. We moderns have learned to hold at least some of our opinions in some doubt. Second, we tend today to be pluralists. We often think there may be more than one “right” answer, more than one way. Perhaps my neighbor and I are both “right.” And, most importantly, I say to myself that even if my neighbor’s religion is harmful it is my neighbor’s choice. We moderns have come to value individual choice very highly. I may not like what my neighbor has chosen, but I respect my neighbor’s right to choose.

Thus three values have given the modern world a different shape from the fourth-century world. We see a certain amount of self-doubt as good. We are open to the possibility of several “right” answers. And we hold in high esteem the individual’s right to choose.

The fourth-century held the right choice and true religion in high esteem. The fourth-century had not seen the consequences of these values played out in the heresy hunts of the Inquisition. The fourth-century cared for the souls of its neighbors. A neighbor in religious error was a neighbor in peril. Love demanded an attempt to bring the neighbor into the path of piety.

We can feel the pull of such love today when we consider not our neighbor, but our family. It is relatively easy to leave our neighbor’s religion to our neighbor — but the religion of our son or our sister, the religion of those we love, that’s another matter — when they are in “error” it is hard to leave them alone. Fourth-century love of neighbor called for helping the neighbor out of irreligion into piety.

Basil of Caesarea describes the intimate connection between idea and religion —

What is set before us is, so far as is possible with human nature, to be made like unto God. Now without knowledge there can be no making like; and knowledge is not got without lessons. … The acquisition of true religion is just like that of crafts; both grow bit by bit.^xviii

 

This may sound like intellectualism. Basil may seem to be saying that you need to do a lot of book learning. But that’s not what “knowledge” means to Basil —

We understand by [the] Way that advance to perfection which is made stage by stage … through the works of righteousness and “the illumination of knowledge;” ever longing for what is before, and reaching forth unto those things which remain, until we shall have reached the blessed end, the knowledge of God.^xix

 

Knowledge of God is union with God, being made like unto God. Knowing the Lord as the Way is not just an idea. It is knowing that comes by advancing in that Way, united to the Lord, being made, step by step, like unto God. (Take note of this theme. The divinization of humanity is central to orthodox fourth-century piety and we will return to it as we consider Nicene exegesis of scripture.)

Those who have right ideas about God, therefore, are those who are walking in the Way; they are those who are united to God and whose knowledge of God is direct and personal. Those who have mistaken ideas about God, it follows, are those who are walking in error; they are those who are united to some spirit other than God and whose so-called “knowledge” of God is knowledge of that other spirit mistakenly called knowledge of God.

Gregory of Nyssa speaks of pious understanding of scriptural texts—

[We should] seek with all attention and care what is to be piously understood from the utterance. Now, to apprehend perfectly the sense of the passage before us, would seem to belong only to those who search out the depths by the aid of the Holy Spirit, and to know how to speak in the Spirit the divine mysteries. … Wisdom … arises in any man from divine illumination.^xx

 

Pious understanding, the kind of understanding both Nicenes and Arians seek, the kind of understanding that settles doctrine for them, is understanding by the aid of the Holy Spirit, understanding from divine illumination, understanding which leads to speaking the divine mysteries in the Spirit.

For us today the question becomes this: Shall we so cling to our Enlightenment values that we reject reason in the Spirit as a goal, or do we find in this fourth-century value something we are being called to re-adopt, not as a substitute for the values of tolerance and open debate but as an accompaniment? Is it possible to seek divine illumination in our disputes and at the same time tolerate what appear to be the errors of our opponents, encouraging open and free debate? Is it possible to see true religion as our goal and yet tolerate other visions of that true religion? Does a commitment to true religion carry with it the necessity of stamping out heresy?

For me the answer is clear. I am committed both to the free market of ideas and to the search for true religion. I believe it is possible to be faithful to both, and I so recommend to my readers. I believe the fourth-century notion of religious or pious knowledge is something we need to recover, that reasoning about religion that is not grounded in personal pious commitment is sterile and led by our mere human spirit rather than the Spirit of God. To reject the horrors of religious intolerance and persecution need not mean abandoning religious commitment in our reasoning.

Signs, marks of the Spirit, and power struggle

But this fourth-century struggle is not only ugly; it appears also to be lacking the signs and marks of the Spirit we found in the inclusion controversy. Peter was given a vision. When he entered a gentile house the Holy Spirit fell with visible signs upon the Gentiles. Paul had visions and saw signs of the Spirit in his gentile converts. And in the Council of Jerusalem the marks of the Spirit were decisive.

We see no such clear divine evidences in the Arian controversy. We have moved from a church in movement to an institutional church in stasis. We see power struggles, conspiracies, political maneuvering, and the like. And the final say-so, at each stage, is the say-so of the emperor. The state settles the controversy. Or at least that’s the obvious picture.

Are there any signs of the Spirit at work in this controversy?

Let’s look at the course of the controversy to see if we can discover the determinants. What settles this controversy? What’s going on from Nicea to Constantinople? And in particular —
Why doesn’t Nicea settle the controversy? And why does Constantinople? What is lacking at Nicea that is present at Constantinople?

Why doesn’t Nicea settle the controversy?

We have seen that Nicea ends with excommunications, depositions, exiles and decrees — with every outward appearance of settlement. Yet the decision quickly falls apart.

We can draw an immediate and important conclusion — imperial power is not enough to settle the controversy. The emperor decrees settlement and it doesn’t work. The emperor tells the bishops, “This is it. Stop your squabbling.” But they don’t stop. So that’s a second point. The combatants’ consent is needed. The combatants can move outwardly toward obedience, but if the quarrel isn’t settled in their minds and spirits, they begin the debate once more.

Furthermore, the vote of an ecumenical council is not enough. Nicea was called “ecumenical” at the time. It has been recognized by the church since then as “ecumenical.” And yet it did not settle the controversy. Consent of the disputants was lacking. In particular, consent was lacking on the part of the “losers.” The “Arians” were defeated at Nicea but they did not consent to that defeat. Controversy is not over until “losers” accept the decision. The decision needs to be made in such a way that both “winners” and “losers” see the controversy as settled. If there is a vote, they must accept the vote. If there is an imperial decree, they must accept the decree. And so on. Whatever the mechanism of settlement, it must be accepted by the disputants or the controversy will go on.

Why does Constantinople settle the controversy?

The difference between Constantinople and Nicea is not the contents of the decision. The Council of Constantinople does not write a new creed; its creed is the creed of Nicea. Constantinople merely reaffirms the creed of Nicea. Yet this reaffirmation settles the controversy. Why? What changed?

By the time of Constantinople there existed in the consciousness of the church at large a body of Trinitarian theology and of gloss upon the creed of Nicea — especially as set forth by the Cappadocian Fathers — that did not exist at the time of Nicea. Nicea adopted a formula, but its implications and its meaning had yet to become clear. This task was sufficiently completed by the time of Constantinople for the council to reaffirm.

It is important to see that the formula adopted to settle a controversy does not by itself adequately express the settlement. Just as important as the formula is the context of understanding linked to that formula. At Nicea there was only a very crude context of understanding for interpreting its creed. At Constantinople there was a fine-tuned, widely-understood and committed-to context, the one provided by the Homoousian theologians, Athanasius, Hilary and the Cappadocians. In one very important sense Constantinople adopted the work of the Homoousian theologians.

This in turn has important implications. The council did not adopt the work of these theologians explicitly. It did not adopt them jot and tittle. But from that time on the Homoousian theologies of these Fathers are seen as authoritative. Christians may appeal to one or another or all of these theologies to explicate the doctrine of the Trinity.

My use of the plural theologies is important here. Although these theologies have much in common, and although they coalesce into one doctrine of the Son’s relation to the Father, they are, nevertheless, not identical theologies. So the settlement is not only a settlement of orthodoxy, it also shows that orthodoxy to have a certain amount of roominess.

At the time of Nicea the church at large could not commit itself to the council’s decision because few Christians were aware either of the issues involved or of the significance of the proposed solution. Not even those who wrote the creed of Nicea understood its implications well. Perhaps several hundred bishops were aware of some aspects of the problem, but that was all. On the other hand, at Constantinople, as Gregory of Nyssa so amusingly testifies, even the man or woman on the street was talking the theology. There was a general awareness of the problem and of the alternative solutions.

Alternative solutions, further, had been widely and thoroughly explored. The Neo-Arian and Homoian solutions had had their day and were rejected as wanting. The Homoiousian and Nicene solutions had come to terms with each other. The contest was over. So Constantinople did not need to write a new creed; it had only to reaffirm Nicea.

Three specific problems were created at Nicea that needed to be worked through before Constantinople was possible. Nicea had anathematized those who asserted that the Son is of “other substance (hypostasis) or essence (ousia) than the Father.” This made it almost impossible to speak clearly about the way in which God is one and yet three. There was no commonly understood or accepted vocabulary for this purpose. The Homoiousians, as we have seen, finally solved the problem by distinguishing hypostasis and ousia, and the Homoousians accepted this solution. In this respect Constantinople quietly rejected Nicea.

The two other problems were the use of non-scriptural language and the breaking of the tradition of subordinationism. We have seen that conservatives struggled again and again during the controversy to find a way to solve the problem using only scriptural language; but again and again they failed. This succession of failures finally convinced conservatives of the need to break with tradition and use the non-scriptural homoousios. Similarly, the protracted struggle made evident over time the necessity of declaring the equality of Son to Father.

And, finally, the behavior of the emperors at Nicea and Constantinople is significantly different. Constantine wavered in his support — he permitted Eusebius of Nicomedia and his followers to return from exile, and he welcomed Eusebius once again as a trusted advisor. Authority, thus, was speaking with an uncertain voice. At Constantinople the bishops were ratifying what the emperor had already decreed and continued to support.

But what about signs of the Spirit? Do we see here any signs of the Spirit? And where’s scripture in all of this? Wasn’t scripture a determinant?

In this controversy we do not see signs of the Spirit such as those in the inclusion controversy. They may have occurred, but we have no record of them. The absence of such signs should not be surprising. The fourth-century church is an institution rather than a movement and is large and diffuse rather than small and tight-knit. Its spiritual experience is different from that of the primitive church.

Do we find other signs of the Spirit that fit with the large size and institutional nature of the fourth-century church?

I answer this question with an act of faith. I assume the answer to be Yes. With this assumption I then ask, what can we plausibly identify as signs of the Spirit in this struggle? What marks of the presence of God do we find in the midst of this ugly fight?

Piety and the hunger for piety spring to mind. These combatants really do care about their religion. They long to worship God in the beauty of holiness. This passion speaks loudly in the words of Basil that we have already seen —

What is set before us is … to be made like unto God. The acquisition of true religion … bit by bit ^xxi

 

that advance to perfection … ever longing for what is before.^xxii

 

We can hear a shocked piety, a scandalized true religion in Palladius’ words —

Palladius: You dare to believe in three omnipotent Gods, three eternal Gods, three equal Gods, three true Gods, three who work together, three who reign together, three with no difference among them, three who are confused together, three for whom nothing is impossible. But the Father alone is omnipotent and eternal and above all. The Apostle says that “He is the blessed and only sovereign” [1 Timothy 6:15] and that there is “One God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” [Ephesians 4:6] And David says, “There is none like you among the gods, O Lord.” [Psalm 86:8] And in the Gospel the Son prays to the Father, “that they may know you, the only true God.” [John 17:3]

Without this deep piety, this controversy would be nothing but ugliness. Where there is a longing for God, God can and does work through even the sins and missteps of mortals. So, as we look at the controversies of today’s church — ill-formed, sprawling, and worldly as they are — do we see a longing for God in their midst?

There are other signs which we may choose (or not) to see as marks of the Holy Spirit, depending on how we view the Holy Spirit’s relation to worldly spirit. There is a gradual growth of awareness of the problem, of alternative solutions, of clarity in ideas — processes we can observe in all sorts and conditions of controversies, processes not ordinarily identified as divine in origin or as means of divine guidance.

The ultimate sign of the Spirit, however, is “fit,” the way in which a solution “fits” the church’s perception of her faith. The Nicene solution prevails because over time, as awareness grows, as multitudes of Christians get the feel of the various alternatives, this solution feels right in contrast to the others — it “fits” in a way that the others do not. The sixty years of struggle are sixty years of trying out this and that, getting the feel of this and that, until it becomes clear what fits and what does not.

The controversy does not arise because Arius proposes a clearly unfit expression of the faith, but because he proposes a genuine possibility. The controversy is a controversy of plausibilities, of solutions more or less fitting the faith. The task is to become more and more aware of the inner nature of the faith, of aspects of the faith not perceived clearly heretofore, and then to adopt a solution that expresses that deeper perception.

We have already seen in the inclusion controversy that each side was able to make a complete, plausible and convincing case. We have also seen that no one argument in a case is convincing by itself. One particular argument may carry great weight, but only if it is part of a convincing whole. Similarly, in the Arian controversy each camp had a complete, plausible and convincing case. Each camp had arguments and counter-arguments on each major aspect of the problem. The choice between cases, then, was not the choice of this argument or that, but of total pictures. To choose one solution or another was to choose one whole way of looking at things, in contrast to other possible whole ways. It was to choose a model of the faith. And how does one make such a choice? By how the model “fits” that which it models. One chooses the creed of Nicea or one of the other creeds by how well it acts as a model of how one already sees the faith, by how well it fits the way in which one experiences Christianity.

We can call this, if we wish, judgment from tradition. One chooses on the basis of what has been handed down. One chooses on the basis of the tradition in which one stands.

The role of scripture in the Arian controversy

It will be worth our while to take a brief look at how the combatants’ employed scripture. Let’s consider their various exegeses of Proverbs 8:22.

Arians, of course, gloried in this passage, flaunting its obvious meaning. The Lord speaks of creating Wisdom. Wisdom is a creature. End of argument.

Palladius: Does this upset you, this saying of scripture? — “The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth.” Do you wish this passage were condemned since it calls the Son a creature?

Ambrose irritably makes the standard Nicene response.

I know how the passage goes. But it’s not speaking of the Son’s divinity; it’s referring to his humanity.

To which Palladius has a devastating retort —

You understand scripture badly, for clearly it is not the humanity that was “created at the beginning,” or “set up ages ago,” or “brought forth before the mountains.”

And to this Ambrose makes no answer. Indeed, Ambrose’s record, the text preserved by his stenographers, omits the entire exchange. This may be an instance of the selective recording charged by Palladius. On the other hand, it may be that Palladius, in his recall of the occasion, remembers not what he actually said but what he wishes he had said.

In either case the Nicenes have a severe problem. How are they to answer Palladius? I must hasten to add that I have found Palladius’ retort nowhere else in the literature. And nowhere do I find a Nicene explicitly setting out to answer such a retort. Nevertheless it seems highly unlikely that Palladius was the first to point out that the Nicene interpretation placed the creation of the Word’s human nature at the creation of the world, rather than at the entry of Christ into human history.

Athanasius is rich in his work with Proverbs 8:22. We have not only several interpretations from his pen, we also have a systematic view of his principles of interpretation. As he worked on the passage he was compelled not only to find interpretations that supported the Nicene view but to explain and defend the methods of interpretation he was using.

He points out, for example, that these are proverbs. They are not ordinary, literal statements.

What is said in proverbs is not said plainly, but is put forth latently. Therefore it is necessary to unfold the sense of what is said, and to seek it as something hidden. [Consequently,] we must not expound them nakedly in their first sense, but we must inquire into the person, and thus religiously put the sense on it. ^xxiii

 

“Inquire into the person,” that is, consider who the passage is about and then, on the basis of this identification, interpret the passage religiously. The standard of interpretation is piety. We are not to interpret the passage objectively, or in accord with scholarly standards, or in accord with what we take to be the “original intent of the writer,” but in accord with true religion. We understand the passage piously concerning the person it is about. And this Athanasius proceeds to do — first, negatively, as regards persons the passage is not about; then positively, concerning the person the passage is about.

If then what is written be about Angel, or any other of things originate, … let it be said, “created me,” but if it be the Wisdom of God, … that speaks concerning itself, what ought we to understand but that “He created” means nothing contrary to “he begat.”

Because this is a proverb it is not to be taken literally. Further, it concerns the Wisdom of God. Therefore we must understand it in a way befitting that person. It is impious to consider Wisdom to be created. Therefore, the passage cannot bear that meaning.

But why, then, is the word created used? What meaning does it intend to convey, if not its literal meaning?

There are other meanings to the word, says Athanasius. In the Psalms, for example, David uses it to mean creating anew.^xxiv And Paul has similar use.^xxv Therefore, let this

be understood, not of his being a creature, but of that human nature which became his, … of the … renewal [of human nature].^xxvi

And why does this take place at creation rather than at the entrance of Christ into history? Because

as a wise architect, proposing to build a house, consults also about repairing it … and … makes preparation … in the same way prior to us is the repair of our salvation founded in Christ, that in him we might even be new-created. And the will and purpose were made ready “before the world,’” but have taken effect when the need required.^xxvii

 

And then Athanasius adds considerations of “fit,” reasons why a created Word is just not consonant with true religion. He begins with the heart of Nicene piety, which we have already seen in Basil of Caesarea — divinization, the making of human beings like unto God.

Therefore did he assume the body originate and human, that … he might deify it in himself.^xxviii

The Word must fully assume human nature if we are to be deified in him.

And as we had not been delivered from sin and the curse, unless it had been by nature human flesh, which the Word put on … so also the man had not been deified, unless the Word who became flesh had been by nature from the Father and true and proper to him.

For divinization to take place the incarnate one must be both truly human and truly divine.

Thus, at the creation the Word assumes human nature in order to remedy the imperfections of human nature, in order to make ready for repairs in human nature that will become necessary, and in order to make possible the divinization of human nature. Indeed, God so wanted human nature to be good, says Athanasius, that he introduced

an impress and semblance of [Wisdom] on all. … The same Son considered as Wisdom is the wisdom which is implanted in us an image; in which wisdom we, having the power of knowledge and thought, become recipients of the All-framing Wisdom; and through it we are able to know its Father. “For he who hath the Son,” saith he, “hath the Father also.” [1 John 2:23] … So, though he [Wisdom] be not among the creatures, yet because his image and impress is created in the works, he says, as if in his own person, “The Lord created me a beginning of his ways for his works.”^xxix

Here is the answer to Palladius’ retort that the Word did not become flesh until he entered history. No! says Athanasius, to the contrary. The Word became flesh in the creation of humankind. Human beings were given the impress of Wisdom in their creation. Thus Proverbs 8:22 is speaking of the creation of the fleshly image of God — the impress and image of God into humankind in the creation.

Here is Nicene pious interpretation at its heart. The goal of humanity — the heart of true religion — is full union with God. And to that end the image of God is given humanity in the creation. And that is what this disputed passage is all about.

That the Son should be speaking of the impress that is within us as if it were himself should not startle any one. … Its impress is created in the works as the copy of the image. And he says, “Beginning of ways,” since such wisdom becomes a sort of beginning, and, as it were, rudiments of the knowledge of God.^xxx

 

Thus pious interpretation by Athanasius. Thus the heart of Athanasius’ view. But Athanasius is not all piety. He can, when it is called for, insist upon the intent of the original author. He can exercise cool objectivity and enquire into the original circumstances of the text, seeking with every scholarly tool to determine what that person, in that circumstance, in relation to those original readers intended to say. He can be every bit the modern, “scientific,” “rational” exegete.

Generally speaking, Arians were not only literalists but selective literalists. They plucked passages from here and from there, without regard to their context, and applied them to the present concern whether the original situation had any bearing or not. Athanasius the cool scholar comes to the fore in responding to these Arian methods.

T. E. Pollard has distinguished some basic Athanasian principles of scriptural interpretation. We will consider two— the context of scripture and the scope of scripture.^xxxi Athanasius puts the matter of context succinctly —

Had [the Arians] known the person, and the subject, and the season of the Apostle’s words, they would not have expounded of Christ’s divinity what belongs to his manhood.^xxxii

To understand what a text is saying we must ask some questions — who is it about? what is it about? when was it written? in relation to what circumstances? These are principles of interpretation taught in theological seminaries today.

Further, the only legitimate way in which a teacher can take a single verse of scripture and use it to expound doctrine is in harmony with the general teaching of the whole of scripture. If the passage is expounded in a sense that is not in harmony with the whole of scripture, the teaching is illegitimate —

We [should] consider the scope of that faith which we Christians hold, and, using it as a rule, apply ourselves, as the Apostle teaches, to the reading of inspired Scripture. … This scope is to be found throughout inspired Scripture.^xxxiii

 

“Fit” in Neo-Arian religion

We have seen the “fit” between Nicene piety and Nicene theology. In what ways does the Arian “fit” differ?

T. A. Kopecek has done a study of Neo-Arian religion.^xxxiv He finds five distinguishing characteristics. Neo-Arianism is pronouncedly Jewish-Christian in character. It promotes an unusually intense and jealous worship of one God — an intensely consistent monotheism. In its worship Christ is the chief worshiper, the prototype of creatures. He is worshiped in only a qualified way. Neo-Arian worship is more intellectual than affective.

We have already seen the intensity of Palladius’ monotheism — “You dare,” he says to his Nicene opponents,

to believe in three omnipotent Gods, three eternal Gods, three equal Gods, three true Gods, three who work together, three who reign together, three with no difference among them, three who are confused together, three for whom nothing is impossible. But the Father alone is omnipotent and eternal and above all.

Neo-Arian prayers make clear that worship of the Son is a lesser worship—

We beseech you [God] … and because of you and after you honor and worship is to him [the Son] in the Holy Spirit.^xxxv [Italics added.]

To you is glory, praise, magnificence, reverence, and worship, and after you and because of you to your child Jesus.^xxxvi

 

Thus Neo-Arian theology “fits” its piety better than Nicene theology does. The piety is different in crucial respects. We may, as a consequence, re-phrase our conclusion concerning “fit.”

The choice of theologies is a choice of “fit” in the sense that one chooses a theology that “fits” one’s religion. Fundamentally the choice is a choice of pieties. I choose this theology — I see this theology as a “fit” — because I choose this religion.

Postscript

Many other controversies follow the Arian controversy but for many centuries they represent a continuation and extension of the patterns we have already seen. The notion of heresy becomes more strongly entrenched and is extended to result not only in excommunications, depositions and exiles, but torture and death. State interference and coercion continue. In the iconoclastic controversy of the eighth century, for example, the emperor Leo the Isaurean uses state force to remove and smash icons. In these controversies we find the patterns we have already seen.

But the controversy to which we now turn involves a rapidly changing church and world, and shows us important differences of pattern.

Usury

The controversy

Usurers and hatred of usurers almost certainly precede money and money-lending. Some foresighted farmer set aside grain for a rainy day and when famine struck, his neighbor asked for a loan. The foresighted farmer was not only foresighted, he was shrewd — and greedy. “All right,” he said, “I’ll give you 20 bags now if you’ll give me 30 bags in the fall.” His neighbor had no choice but to agree — and hate.

When money arrived, with it came money-lenders and 10% or 50% on the drachma or shekel. We are told that Joseph lent grain to the people of Egypt in time of famine and when they could not repay, first he took their land and then he took the people themselves as slaves for the Pharaoh. Joseph is looked on as a savior of his fellow Israelites, but he must have been hated by the common Egyptian!

When, concerning borrowing and lending, the God of Israel gave commandments to his people and Greek thinkers thought, there was already a long history of usury and of hatred for the usurer. The God of Sinai expressed strong disapproval, and so did Aristotle.

That was a very different world from ours. We take interest so for granted, we are so accustomed to the kind of world in which interest is the norm, that to understand our forbears’ disapproval, we will have to do some concentrated imagining and thinking.

First, we have to be clear that usury does not involve how much interest lenders may morally or legally charge, but whether it is right to take any interest at all. For us today usury is the taking of excessive interest. For our ancestors usury was the taking of any value at all over and above the value of the money or item loaned. The question for them was whether or not usury in any form — whether 50% or ½% — was moral or legal.

To many of us their attitude will seem strange. What was the problem? Why didn’t they just settle on a reasonable rate and let it go at that? But, be assured, however strange the controversy may seem, it is of great significance to our enquiry, for here we find overturned an almost unanimous tradition of many centuries. How did it happen, we will want to know, that a moral view of such antiquity and such consensus — pagan, Christian, Jewish, and Muslim — was replaced by a new one that has in its turn achieved almost universal acceptance? What were the forces that brought about this change? What was the thinking involved? And what does this example say to us now?

The ancient Christian understanding of usury stems from everyday experience of usurers (such as that described above), from Greek thought (especially Aristotle) concerning the nature of money, from biblical texts, and from Christian vision concerning the proper relation of human beings to one another.

For Aristotle the purpose of money is to serve as a medium of exchange. It is contrary to its purpose for it to increase at interest. He calls such increase the “breeding of money” and says that “of all modes of getting wealth this is the most unnatural.”ⁱ This teaching flowed down through the Western world almost as self-evident truth.

In the law of Moses interest-taking is forbidden from fellow Israelites, but not from the foreigner.

You shall not charge interest on loans to another Israelite, interest on money, interest on provisions, interest on anything that is lent. On loans to a foreigner you may charge interest, but on loans to another Israelite you may not charge interest. (Deuteronomy 23:19–20)

And especially you must not make a profit from the poor.

If you lend money to my people, to the poor among you, you shall not deal with them as a creditor; you shall not exact interest from them. (Exodus 22:25)

The situation is one Benjamin Nelson calls “tribal brotherhood”ⁱⁱ. Borrowing is usually by the poor in their need. Members of the tribe are brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters help one another, but have no such obligation towards the outsider. The rules about borrowing and lending are part of the solidarity of the tribe.

In the ethic of Jesus this tradition is expanded to include even the enemy, not just the sister or brother. “Love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.” (Luke 6:35a nrsv) During the usury debates of the 16^th century and following, when reformers and others press for “moderate usury” (i.e., moderate interest), this passage is quoted again and again in rebuttal by conservatives.

The Fathers of the Church saw usury and the usurer as despicable. They saw the problem as one of human relations, and painted it in such terms in their sermons. Here is Basil the Great depicting a usurer in tragi-comic colors —

The miser sees someone in need kneeling in front of him and entreating him for money … He is not moved by the other’s tears. He continues to maintain that he does not have any money. … By contrast, when the beggar talks to him about interest and pledges, at once his eyebrows go up and he smiles, he recalls the friendship that linked their parents, he regards the other almost as one of the family, to be treated as a friend. He says: “Let’s see if by any chance I have a little money. Yes, I have some money belonging to another friend. He lent it to me for a bit of business. Unfortunately, he is asking for a very high rate of interest on it. For you, I will make a discount.”ⁱⁱⁱ

According to the Fathers the only “usury” justified — indeed, commanded — by scripture is a “spiritual usury” paid by God to the benefactors of the poor or of virtues paid by believers to God.

The only controversy about usury among the Fathers and during the first 500 to 1000 years of the church’s life concerned “neighbor” and “foreigner.” For many of the Fathers the Deuteronomic distinction between neighbor and foreigner began to vanish in favor of a Christian universalism, in which all human beings are my neighbor, all are my brother and sister. But Ambrose taught that you may take interest of your enemy. “From him … demand usury whom you rightly desire to harm. … Where there is the right of war, there also is the right of usury.”^iv The Ambrosian view and the universalistic view contended until the 12^th and 13^th centuries in the West until universalism finally attained consensus.

Beginning from about 1200 we can trace an evolution of thought in which gradually a significant number of exceptions to the prohibition of usury became widely recognized. The major exceptions were of two sorts — damnum emergens and lucrum cessans. You may licitly demand usury when you have had some sort of emergency loss — e.g., when you have been forced to borrow money at usury to back up a loan you have guaranteed; or when the repayment of a loan has been delayed. You may also demand usury when the loan you have made causes you to lose a profit you might otherwise have gained.

Significant also was the rise of the societas, a business partnership in which the partners contributed either money or skill or both. The money in a societas became recognized as capital rather than a loan because the partner risked his money. Usury was not involved because of the risk. Lack of risk was a distinguishing characteristic of usury.

In the 14^th century merchants began to insure their maritime ventures and both moralists and canonists raised no objection. Then insurance was applied to the societas. One partner insured the capital of the other. This step struck a fatal blow to risk as the distinction between capital and loan. The capital in such a societas was no longer at risk; yet it was not regarded as a loan.

A further evolution occurred through what was called the Triple or Five Percent Contract. This involved a societas in which one partner insured the capital of the other, and, in addition, guaranteed that partner a 5% profit. One partner, in other words, took all the risk and guaranteed lucrum cessans to the other, in return for the other’s investment of money. Here the investment, though technically capital, was in effect a loan at usury. This contract was hotly debated, but widely accepted.

We have now arrived at a situation in which a teaching intended for protection of the poor and concerning loans used for consumption is overlaid with exceptions intended to serve the needs of commerce and loans for production. The teaching is cumbersome and confusing. Two powerful forces now sweep it away and redefine usury — the Reformation and the rise of capitalism.

By the 16^th century two economic events were occurring. A surplus of money was becoming available and with it an expansion of enterprises. More money, in other words, was available as capital. In England, for example, lands were being drained and enclosed, the iron and cloth industries were being rapidly expanded, and the government was encouraging production of munitions. The expansion of the cloth industry, to take one example, required capital at each stage of production, distribution, and sale. The sheep herder needed capital for buying sheep, for the interval between sale and payment of wool, and for bad seasons. The weaver needed to be supplied with materials. The clothier needed a large supply of various types of wools, etc.

The Reformation supplied a new interpretation of Scripture to support this new economy. Martin Luther at first took a conservative stance, but in his later years began to make room for moderate interest on loans. He advised John Frederick of Saxony that interest of four or five percent would not be unjust. Of great importance is his attitude towards the relation of church and world. He was alarmed by radical reformers who wished to reform society in accordance with the Mosaic law and the gospel. He stood staunchly against social revolution. The Gospels were not intended to take the place of civil law.

The world needs a strict, hard temporal government that will compel and constrain the wicked not to steal and rob and to return what they borrow. … Let no one think that the world can be ruled without blood; the sword of the ruler must be wet and bloody.^v

The tip point came, however, with a letter written^vi in 1545 by John Calvin in which he challenges Aristotle’s dictum that money is barren, reinterprets the various passages of Scripture that had been used to support the traditional teaching, denies that there is a bond of brotherhood among the people of his time as there had been among the Jews, and concludes that usury (i.e., interest) is allowable, provided it is kept within the bounds of justice and charity.

Calvin’s redefinition of usury takes advantage of the literal meaning of the Hebrew word for usury in Deuteronomy 23:19–20 and in other places in the Old Testament. The word is neshek, which literally means to bite. Thus usury becomes interest that bites, excessive interest that devours. Usury is no longer taking anything beyond the principal but taking too much beyond the principal.^vii

Calvin added restrictions. One must not charge an excessive rate. One must not take interest from the poor. Interest is permissible only if it does not harm one’s neighbor.

John Noonan neatly summarizes what has happened to the church’s teaching, “The scholastics begin with a general prohibition and find exceptions; their opponents begin with a general permission and make restrictions.”^viii But there is also an advance in economic theory. A new understanding of money has emerged and with it the concept of capital.

When the economic world is viewed as a world of consumption, money is viewed as a medium of exchange. Money makes it possible for persons to exchange their excess goods with one another. The goods are consumed. They are used in the process of living. Money produces nothing. Money is not fruitful.

But when the world is viewed as a world of production, all this changes. Here money is used, not for consumption, not for living, but for the goods and labor needed for production of further goods. Without money the new goods are not possible. Money is more than a medium of exchange. It is a means of production. It is fruitful. This kind of money is capital.

The new teaching spread quickly. The rising capitalism welcomed it with open arms. New laws were passed in various German states to allow the charging of interest. Geneva adopted an ordinance in 1547 limiting interest to 5%. The English parliament passed legislation allowing interest and limiting it to 10%.

A fierce debate continued, however, for many years. Many books and pamphlets appeared pro and con. Stage plays caricatured the miserly usurer who grinds the poor and fleeces profligate young gentlemen. The sides were not Catholic versus Protestant. Advocates of the new teaching and conservatives in favor of the old were to be found among both Catholic and Protestant.^ix

One of these works, consisting of a dialogue among a preacher, a lawyer, a merchant, and a civilian, became a classic exposition of the various views.^x In it we find the standard opposing arguments.

The Preacher’s Oration

My neighbor … commeth to a rich man to borrow for his relief, either for compassing his necessary affairs, or else for maintenance of his family. … This I say is against charity, that any man should be so far from love as he will not lend but for an assured gain and most sufficient pawn. …

There is no love, where free lending is not, and where love is not, there is not God. …

In Exodus the xxii, if thou lend money to any of my people, that is poor by thee, thou shalt not be an usurer unto him, neither shalt thou oppress him with usury. … Lend, saith Christ … looking for nothing thereby, or of the gain. … Saint Jerome saith there is no difference betwixt usury, fraud and violent robbings. [Here the Preacher gives a long series of the teachings of the Fathers against usury.] …

The poor man, the more he dealeth with usury, the more he is wrapped in … bands … and at length utterly undone. And this is the occasion of diverse bankrupts, of many decayed gentlemen, that are compelled for little to sell their lands away, and of a number of honest occupiers that by those means are utterly undone, both they, their wives, and their children. …

I know a gentleman born to five hundred pound land, and entering upon pawn of his land. … He did owe to master usurer five thousand pound at the last, borrowing but one thousand pound at first. …

Either the Bible is not God’s word, or else we are not of God, such contrariety is between our lives and our lessons.

The Lawyer’s Oration

I do lend money to him that hath need, and can prove that for want of the same money I have sustained great loss, or if my debtor do break day with me, when I look to have it at the time appointed … it were good reason that my debtor bear my loss. …

You have heaped a number of scriptures together … but better you should have done … if you had weighed usury more straightly by the rule of charity. …

Circumstances ought to be considered. … Neither ought I to deal with all men in one sort. … There are three sorts of men, the stark beggar, the poor householder, and the rich merchant or gentleman. To the first I ought to give freely, not only to lend freely; to the second I ought to lend, either freely or mercifully; with the third I may deal straightly, and ask mine own with gain. …

Where no biting is, there is no usury. …

Some there be that say: all usury is against nature. … [But] if usury were against nature, it should be universally evil, but God hath said that to a stranger a man may put out his money for usury. …

Moreover … even in God’s law … usury is not forbidden. For is it not in S. Luke’s gospel that God said He would come and ask the money lent with the usury, blaming him that did not put it forth for gain? …

I would you weighed all causes … by the rule of charity … by judgment and discretion. … Usury only being forbidden that breaketh charity and decayeth the love of my neighbor by extreme cutting and excessive taking. … Where charity is not broken … there is no offence committed. …

Usury in the Hebrew tongue … is called a biting, as a dog useth to bite or gnaw upon a bone; so that he that biteth not, doth not commit usury. …

I think you divines do not well observe circumstances when you will that the very bare letter shall be plainly taken as it lieth, and in one sort or manner to be applied to all men, without regard of circumstances, degree, estate or condition of any one.

The Merchant’s Oration

What trade or bargaining can there be among merchants, or what lending or borrowing among all men, if you take away the assurance and the hope of gain? … If you forbid gain, you destroy intercourse of merchandise, you overthrow bargaining. … Hope of gain maketh men industrious, and, where no gain is to be had, men will not take pains. … Merchants’ doings must not thus be overthwarted by preachers.

The Preacher’s Replication

Your distinction of three sorts of men … is rather politic than Christian, rather worldly than divine. … For you ought to lend freely unto all men, rich and poor, lord and gentlemen, king and caesar.

The Civilian’s Oration

The causes that have moved wise and godly men to detest usury … First, the usurer is an idle man. … He bringeth a dearth also of all things through his excessive dealing. For when he taketh so dear for his money, it must needs follow that, as others do buy, so they must sell. … Hereof commeth decay of good houses and wracking of the people. … And, I pray you, what is more against nature, than that money should beget or bring forth money. …

The difference betwixt interest and usury … Interest is demanded when I have sustained loss through another man’s cause. … It is reason, that I be answered all losses and damages that I have sustained through another man’s cause, as well for the gain that else I might have had. …Interest is lawful, as the which seeketh only equality: whereas the name of usury is odious, ungodly, and wicked, as that which seeketh all inequality.^xi

This debate between conservatives and innovators continued past the Reformation into more recent times. As late as 1745 the Roman Catholic Church was maintaining the old tradition; in that year Benedict xiv issued the conservative bull Vix Pervenit. And it was not until well into the nineteenth century that the Holy Office began to recognize and permit the charging of interest in commercial transactions. But the changes in the economic system swept forward relentlessly, paying little attention to the debate. Capitalism based on loans at interest became the economic system of our world without waiting for the church’s authoritative teaching to catch up.

Commentary

The overturning of a unanimous tradition

Where a teaching has been held unanimously the presumption is certainly in favor of that tradition. But it cannot be held totally beyond question. If the tradition is attacked a simple appeal to its antiquity and unanimity will not do. We must find further grounds in its defense.

In this controversy we find a tradition that enjoyed a unanimity as full as any teaching of the church has ever held. Yet it was overturned — and overturned, moreover, to the point that it is difficult for us today to conceive how it could ever have been held at all. But it was.

Here is a clear case of the overturning of a unanimous tradition.

One may argue that behind the words and concepts of the first teaching lay a Christian view of love of neighbor that has not changed. Only the circumstances of its application have changed, and it is these circumstances which have caused a reformulation. The fundamental sense of the tradition, in that sense, has not changed.

I believe this response to be essentially correct, but for now we need to see the implications for the way in which we carry on our present controversies. We need to be aware that the conservative position will seldom be well served by simply asserting the universality of a tradition. More is needed and we will be considering what that “more” consists of.

Changes in the world bring about changes in teaching

Throughout this history we see a continuing pattern of change in circumstances followed by an adjustment in teaching. Hard cases stretch theory. If I teach that it is wrong to receive back more than one has loaned, what do I say when a lender protests that the borrower has not repaid him on the agreed date and he has lost money as a consequence? The lender says it is only right that he be compensated for his loss. I hear justice in this claim. So I adjust my teaching to allow for an exception to my teaching. I have become aware of a circumstance I had not originally considered that causes me to make a change in my teaching.

We can see this cycle of hard case-adjustment in teaching over and over again in this controversy — and in many others.

Indeed, we can lay it down as a fundamental law of change in teaching and theory that awareness of difference in circumstances bearing upon a theory precedes and tends to bring about change in that theory. Or, more simply, changes in the world bring about changes in teaching.

To change one’s teaching is to change one’s world

The converse of the preceding conclusion is also true. When 16^th century Germans, Swiss, and English changed their teachings about usury, they also changed their laws and their view of the world. The change in teaching and law signified a choice of world. They chose a world of commerce. They moved from a world viewed principally as stable and as the consumer of goods, to a world viewed as productive and changing. The new belief about usury signified the birth of a new world.

As I pursued this study it gradually became clear to me that the new definition of usury involved far more than loans and interest, that a new world was involved, and far more than a new economy. I knew that the change in teaching about usury had occurred, and I guessed it had something to do with the rise of capitalism, but I was not prepared for the conservative teaching of the brother- and sisterhood of all human beings. This conservative vision of a Christian village, of a world of personal relations in which everyone is neighbor, in which all are to be treated by the rule of love appeals to me powerfully. And standing today in an impersonal world of impersonal relations, a capitalistic world of economic laws compelling human behavior, I look back at this Christian vision of my ancestors and feel an acute sense of longing and loss. Would that we lived in a village of neighbors! Our cities of strangers dehumanize. Is there no way in which we can recapture this medieval ideal?

I look at the debate and I see that the disputants were only minimally aware of the implications of their decisions. They knew the world was changing. They knew they were being required to choose for or against change. But they were blind to the scope of the change. They were blind to the loss of the neighbor, to the alienation of persons implied in their decision.

I cannot expect us in our controversies to be more aware than our of the scope of the changes involved. We are no more transcendent than our forbears. But perhaps we can make a few small steps in that direction by seeking in our controversies to describe our vision. When we argue for or against a teaching, what world do we see on either side?

If we look, for example, at the world assumed by the Preacher in Wilson’s book, we see very clearly a world of personal relations. When he describes a loan it is from one person to another, from a rich person to a poor one in need. He does not describe the world of commerce. But when the merchant speaks, or the lawyer, they perceive a different world. They talk about business loans.

I am suggesting that in our debates we look at these assumptions and try to make them conscious and to fill them out, to describe the worlds more completely. Since choosing a teaching involves not only the teaching by itself, but the world it assumes, it should help us in our choice if we can explicitly see the worlds implied.

I look at the world of the usury controversy and our world today. I look at the mass of consumer debt being built up by Americans and I wonder where it is all going. The profit motive seems out of control. The drive to spend and the drive to persuade us to consume more and more seem to have a law of their own. The forces of the market seem to rule human life. Is this the world our forbears meant to choose? Perhaps once again dwe need to choose a different world — and a modified view of loans and interest!

The Episcopal Church and Divorce

After the Revolutionary War the American branch of the Church of England became the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States, reorganizing itself as a loose confederation of dioceses. It adopted a national government consisting of a General Convention which meets every three years in two houses, the House of Bishops and the House of Deputies. The latter is composed of equal numbers of clergy and laity, elected by the dioceses. On important matters the House of Deputies votes by orders; that is, the clergy and laity vote separately, and to be adopted a measure must pass not only in both houses but in both orders of deputies.

The first General Convention adopted a body of canons (church laws), but marriage and divorce were not regulated by canon until 1868. The only guidance before that was a joint resolution of the two houses which provided that

the Ministers of this Church … shall not unite in matrimony any person who is divorced, unless it be on account of the other party having been guilty of adultery.ⁱ

A canon to this effect was adopted in 1868. In 1877 Convention expanded the marriage canon to provide that persons thought to be married contrary to the law of the church were not to be admitted to the sacraments except by a “godly judgment” of the bishop. Presumably the bishop’s judgment concerned whether or not the persons actually had married contrary to the church’s law. In any case, admission to the sacraments of such remarried persons did not become a common practice until many years later.

In 1886 a Joint Committee on Marriage appointed by the previous Convention delivered a report which can be taken as the baseline from which to measure the changes we shall be observing. It is a full exposition of the conservative stance from which we shall trace a radical departure in slightly less than 100 years.

First, the committee sees the church as possessing an authority that is little recognized today —

It is desired and expected that [the Church] shall speak, and with no uncertain sound, and tell the people, in terms so plain that every one can understand, what Marriage is; how, and under what conditions, it should be solemnized; and for what causes, and in what manner, it may be dissolved. On these points great numbers of persons throughout this country are waiting for clear statements.ⁱⁱ

In addition the committee takes a clear and succinct theological stance —

The parties to Marriage … [are] fallen and corrupted by the sin which is in their members. …

Hence arises the need of statutes fitted to restrain passion … and to secure compliance with the will of that Supreme Being whom man is … never more likely to offend than when moved and drawn away by the desires and lusts of the flesh. …

Divorce with permission to marry again is not conceded by the Church, unless the ground of divorce be adultery, and in that case the guilty party is absolutely excluded from marrying again during the lifetime of the other.ⁱⁱⁱ

In support of this position the committee cites Leviticus 8:6–19, 20:11–21, Deuteronomy 27:20,22–23 , Matthew 5:32, 19:9, Mark 10:11, Luke 16:18, Romans 7:2–3, and 1 Corinthians 7:10–11.

In the meantime the national divorce rate was climbing rapidly. In 1860 there were 1.2 divorces per 1000 marriages, in 1900 4.0, in 1910 4.5, and in 1920 7.7.^iv

The nation’s first reaction to this increase was an attempt at repression.

Between 1889 and 1906 … state legislatures across the country … enacted more than one hundred pieces of restrictive marriage and divorce legislation in an effort to stem the tide.^v

Behind this attempt was the Victorian ideal of marriage.

The divorce cases from the 1880’s in Los Angeles … suggest that marriage was based on duties and sacrifices, not personal satisfaction. … Husbands and wives neither expected nor hoped that their spouses would provide them with ultimate fulfillment in life, or that the home would be a self-contained private domain geared toward the personal happiness of individual family members.^vi

In the 1880’s … husbands were to provide the necessities of life, treat their wives with courtesy and protection, and exercise sexual restraint. … A wife’s duty was to maintain a comfortable home, take care of household chores, bear and tend to the children, and set the moral tone for domestic life.^vii

This view of marriage stands in sharp contrast to today’s view. Contemporary Americans see personal fulfillment and happiness as the purpose of marriage and the family. Between the late nineteenth century and the mid-twentieth the change from the one to the other was taking place.

In their 1920’s study of Muncie, Indiana … Robert and Helen Lynd … noted that Muncie’s population increasingly adhered to the notion of “romantic love as the only valid basis for marriage.”^viii

And

Gradually the notion of personal happiness began to loom larger and larger as a component of marriage.^ix

Two other developments significant to divorce and remarriage were taking place during this period as well. The first was that social scientists were beginning to study divorce, and lawmakers and others were listening. One sign of this change was a “sudden passion for statistics,” the development of the “quantitative ethic.”^x Of particular importance were Carroll D. Wright’s reports for the U.S. Department of Labor — “in many respects [they] … marked the beginning of the ascendancy of the social sciences in marriage and divorce policy.” ^xi The second was the popularization of psychology and psychiatry, which gave Americans a different view of the causes of marital discord. “The post-World War I era was distinctly under the influence of the behavioral sciences, particularly psychoanalysis.”^xii

After 1887 no significant canonical action concerning marriage and divorce was taken by the Episcopal Church until 1931, but a large crack in the dam became evident in 1916 when the Marriage Commission made a key recommendation —

The refusal of the Church to bless and solemnize a marriage need not be followed by a permanent exclusion from the Sacraments.

Consideration must be had of the good faith in which a marriage may have been entered on, in ignorance of the Church’s law … and of the practical impossibility in many cases, without greater wrong, of the breaking up of a family. In some such cases there must be a power of discretion, very carefully exercised, to admit or readmit persons to the Sacraments. ^xiii(Italics mine)

The Commission presented a canon that empowered the bishop to admit divorced and remarried persons to the sacraments. This measure was approved in the House of Deputies by a large majority of the clergy, but failed by a small majority among the laity.

The Convention of 1931 did, however, take a significantly altered position. Two important new canonical provisions were adopted and the Marriage Commission’s report bore witness to a new understanding of marriage and divorce.

Education for marriage now became a high priority of the canons —

Ministers of this Church shall within their Cures give instruction both publicly and privately, on the nature of Holy Matrimony, its responsibilities and the mutual love and forbearance it requires. …

[The] Minister … shall instruct the contracting parties as to the nature of Holy Matrimony, its responsibilities, and the means of grace which God has provided through his Church.^xiv

Even more importantly, annulment as a means of dissolving marriage was moved front and center. A list of impediments was drawn up; that is, conditions existing at the time of the marriage that rendered it null and void; and further —

Any person whose former marriage has been annulled or dissolved by a civil court may apply to the Bishop … to have the said marriage declared null and void by reason of any of the … impediments.^xv

The door was beginning to open. The Episcopal Church was looking for ways to cope sympathetically with the high rate of divorce in modern marriage. It was not yet ready to break with tradition, but it was eager to find as much wiggle room as possible within that tradition.^xvi

This conclusion is made very clear by the report of the Marriage Commission.

Your Commission is agreed that in some way the Church must take a more sympathetic attitude toward divorced people. The majority offers an amendment to the Canon which would allow the remarriage of divorced people but under very definite conditions, namely, that a divorced person must wait a year before remarriage, and then receive the permission of a[n ecclesiastical] court. … A minority report … [proposes] that if the court permits and the parties have already been married by some civil officer, a clergyman of this Church may read a Service of Blessing.^xvii …

An increasing number of Christian people think it inconsistent with the mind of Christ that the Church should extend no real forgiveness to divorced people who are remarried, but declare that they live in a state of adultery. It is impossible legally, and undesirable morally, that the second marriage should be broken up.^xviii…

There is grave spiritual danger in always expecting men and women who have been married and divorced to live thereafter in a state of celibacy.^xix …

Many of our best thinkers do not consider divorce an unmitigated evil. … In these later days emphasis has been increasingly laid on the promises in the marriage vow “to love, comfort, honor and cherish,” and the feeling has gained ground that the breaking of these promises seriously invalidates the rest of the vow. … There is surely something to be said for the point of view that requires those who are married to observe the ordinary laws of righteousness and decency if they expect their married life to continue. Your Commission believes that the only real way in which we can sanctify the institution of marriage is to sanctify it in practice.^xx

The report revealed a new attitude towards sex —

Until within a few years the whole subject of sex has been taboo. … Training must be given in the dignity, the beauty and the glory of sex. …^xxi

A far cry, this, from the report of 1886, which viewed marriage as a means of restraining “passion” and curbing “the desires and lusts of the flesh”!

On the other hand, as much as the Commission saw the “glory of sex,” it criticized modern dreams of romance —

A … most crying need is to break down the prevailing romantic idea of marriage. … Nothing is more needed than the realization that the best married love is an achievement.^xxii (Italics in the original)

The authority of the new psychology stemming from Freud and of its practitioners is made explicit —

A generation ago it was almost universally assumed that practically all grounds on which divorce was granted were grounds arising after marriage, but the amazing increase of knowledge in psychology and psychiatry has made it reasonably clear that many of the causes for divorce are character causes, which existed long before the marriage took place. … It is generally understood that a large percentage of sexual maladjustments, which are such a prolific cause of marital unhappiness, are due to early childhood training or lack of training. Any clergyman who declared null and void marriages of this sort would doubtless gain the support of psychiatrists and social workers.^xxiii…

It would be easily possible to extend the principle of annulment to cover all sorts of mental and moral deficiencies that existed in people before marriage.^xxiv

These paragraphs are of particular interest because they articulate a new type of grounds for annulment — “character causes, which existed long before the marriage took place.” By all logic the Commission should have included these sorts of psychological grounds among the impediments to be included in the marriage canons, but it did not. Doubtless Commission members felt this was one step too far. The Church was not yet ready for such a sweeping change.

The Commission offers a brief biblical justification for its conclusions. First, the “command” of Christ concerning marriage and divorce is not to be taken literally.

The teaching … is found, along with other equally specific commands that few people accept literally, such as the command not to take oaths, to turn the other cheek if one is struck, to give to everyone that asks of you, and to take no thought of the morrow.^xxv

Authoritative biblical scholars are quoted.

In Bishop Gore’s mind clearly Christ did lay down an explicit law in regard to marriage.^xxvi

But

Canon Streeter … says … “The idea that a definite ruling on this question is to be found in the words of Christ rests, I believe, on a misapprehension. … Christ’s … forgiving attitude toward those who were guilty of adultery receives peculiar emphasis in the Gospels.^xxvii

And, further, Canon Streeter finds venerable precedent for not taking the “plain teaching of our Lord” as law —

If [Christ] condemned the remarriage of divorced persons, it is equally true that in saying “Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder” He condemned the separation of all those who have been married. … Nevertheless from the beginning the Church in all its branches has recognized the need of separation from bed and board.^xxviii

Finally, the Commission cites the practice of the Eastern Orthodox Church as precedent for admitting various grounds of divorce and remarriage.^xxix

This kind of biblical, theological and practical reflection by commissions on marriage continued through the ’30s, ’40s and ’50s.

In preparation for the Convention of 1937 a pamphlet consisting of articles by various scholars^xxx was sent at the Commission’s request to every member of Convention. The Commission itself appeals not only to such scholarly opinion but to personal experience —

Year by year more of us have to face the divorce evil within our own families, or within the circle of our close friends.^xxxi

And to modern, secular teachings —

[A] difficulty with annulment is that our studies in education and psychology make it clear that the character attributes which wreck marriage have been formed long before the marriage.^xxxii

Thus, in this last reflection the Commission of 1937, like the Commission of 1933, is enunciating a psychological and radical impediment to marriage that it is not ready to recommend for canon law.

In 1940 the Commission again recommended that “persons remarried after divorce should not for that reason be deprived of Holy Communion,”^xxxiii but Convention took no action.

In these years Convention began taking active steps to gather information. The Women’s Auxiliary had sent out a questionnaire from which it concluded that “certain trends of thought were evident, which indicated a desire on the part of the large majority that the Church should reexamine its position on the whole subject.”^xxxiv The Commission of 1943

felt it advisable to obtain opinions and suggestions from as wide a circle as possible. It has therefore sought advice from the Seminaries of the Church. … We also asked each diocesan bishop to appoint a cooperating committee in his diocese.^xxxv

And it once again recommended that psychological causes existing before a marriage be considered grounds for annulment. This time it went further and proposed a canon —

of the marriage bond

… If the Bishop finds that the former contract could not be the spiritual union taught by Christ, because of … the existence of abnormalities, defects or deficiencies of character sufficient to prevent the fulfillment of the marriage vows, or … the existence of an irremediable mental, moral, or spiritual deterioration or incapacity, the causes of which were latent before the previous contract and exposed by the marital relationship, and that these causes as far as they can be determined are not present in a proposed marriage, he shall grant the applicant’s request.^xxxvi

This proposal was defeated, but in the following Convention (1946) a similar impediment was finally adopted—

Such defects of personality as to make competent … consent impossible.^xxxvii

The Convention of 1946 also appointed a special committee to gather information about what bishops were actually doing —

Resolved, That a special committee … to obtain from diocesans copies of judgments. … to collate them; and once a year to publish to the members of the House of Bishops their findings as to procedure followed. …

Although by no means all of the Bishops have sent such copies of judgments and answers, enough have been received to warrant the conclusion that in the almost unanimous opinion of the Bishops (two dissent), the present Canons are an improvement on the former discipline … that they are working well; that the pastoral approach, which is the underlying principle of the Canons, to the question of marital failure is approved as more in accord with the mind of Christ than the judicial approach; that judgments are conservative but give due consideration to justice and mercy as well as to the Christian ideal of marriage. … At the same time many of the Bishops have requested clarification of the Canons in some respects. …^xxxviii

In this committee report we also see a clear statement of the shift of opinion that has been taking place. Not only is the Episcopal Church troubled by the problems of modern marriage; two schools of thought are now explicitly acknowledged —

The Canon recognizes two points of view as legitimate: one, that if one or more of the impediments existed before marriage, no marital bond was created; the other, that if one of the impediments arises after marriage, the marital bond is broken.^xxxix

Interestingly enough the practice of the bishops on both sides of the question seems to have been much the same —

The copies of judgments which we have received show a surprising unanimity in conservatism. It is evident that in practice procedure is much the same under both points of view.^xl

With the Convention of 1946 the Episcopal Church had reached a plateau, a resting place that lasted almost thirty years, consisting of one possible solution to the problem of modern marriage — an extended, highly flexible doctrine of annulment that recognized psychological impediments, coupled with a crude method of readmitting to the sacraments those who remarried outside the church’s law. It was also a roomy compromise between the competing schools of thought, capable of interpretation narrowly or broadly. It proved, however, not to be the answer to the problem, but a method of widespread learning. This was recognized by the Commission of 1958, which said “The present canons permit the accumulation of a store of experience which will, in due course, enrich and purify our moral theology in this area.”^xli

In the secular world there were new developments —

In the 1960’s … the movement toward statutory reform in the direction of “no-fault” divorce was inaugurated. … These new laws represented the first significant alteration in divorce codes of the twentieth century. ^xlii

It was during this period that I was ordained (1953) and began to accumulate for myself the experience of which the report was speaking. In the introduction I havedescribed how I dealt with a second marriage in which the husband sought my approval of going off with another woman. This was just one of many such experiences.

One set of experiences concerned those who remarried. I had to tell them they could not take Communion for a year and then could be readmitted only by application to the bishop. Even though, in the early years, I agreed with our canons I felt defensive about what I was doing. I felt mean. And I could see the contradictions clearly — “You people are not really married, but if you live together faithfully we’ll let you back in.” (Ugh! I felt compromised.) And the couple didn’t like it. And parishioners didn’t like it. And it kept happening. It was a constant in parish life.

The other set of experiences concerned divorced persons who wished to remarry. I tried conscientiously to administer the canons and to be pastorally helpful to the couple. If they were going to remarry, I wanted the new marriage to go well. So I enquired into their old marriages — what went wrong? I needed to know in order to look for an applicable impediment, and I wanted them to learn from their previous experience. I did not want them to repeat it in the new marriage. These attempts didn’t go well. I wasn’t very good at helping them learn, or maybe most of them were not ready to learn. And as much as I scanned the list of impediments for something morally clear — marrying your aunt or lying about your identity or concealing venereal disease — I practically never found anything like that. I kept having to appeal to

Such defects of personality as to make competent … consent impossible.

In fact, as the years went by, I tended to take it for granted that our application to the bishop for remarriage would appeal to this impediment. I worked diligently with the couple to find psychological grounds for the failure of the previous marriage — and to my satisfaction we always found them, they were always there. Of course, it became clearer and clearer that “annulment” was a legal fiction, that in fact we were talking about causes for divorce. And it became wearisome to keep up the pretense. So toward the last I gave it up. I decided to drop the pretense and go ahead and remarry people without applying to the bishop.

My experience was far from unique. Parish priest after parish priest, bishop after bishop kept having such experiences and came to the same conclusion.

And so did lay persons.

One other sort of unhappiness lent force to our changes of mind. A double standard for clergy was being applied. If a priest divorced and remarried in violation of the canon he was deposed from the ministry. That was an end to his career in the church. There was no readmission for the clergy. This left a very bad taste. It also caused large numbers of clergy to stay in unhappy marriages against their will and against the will of their wives.

By the Convention of 1973 we Episcopalians had had so many unhappy experiences with the canons of 1946 that 21 memorials and petitions to the General Convention were adopted by the clergy and laity of our dioceses evincing our dissatisfactions^xliii; for example —

Resolved … that the … General Convention … write new material, not from a punitive attitude, but from an attitude of understanding, love, and compassion; … [and] deal not so much with the failures of the past as with the reasons for believing that the new marriage may be truly Christian. (Diocese of Albany)

The provisions of [the marriage canons] present unintended hardships for the clergy and people of this Church, frequently destroying the effective pastoral relations when most needed. (Diocese of Delaware)

The [marriage] canons … are often extremely difficult to administer with true pastoral concern; … the administration of these canons often results in the appearance of the Church turning her back on persons in a time of great need for spiritual strengthening and guidance. (Diocese of Kansas)

This is virtually the only moral issue in which the Church stands in judgment over its members and freely exercises its power of ex-communication, while permitting persons who commit adultery, murder, and other serious acts to remain communicants in good standing. (Diocese of Kentucky)

There is general unhappiness and confusion over the administration of our present marriage canons … and … this diocese desires a revised national canon which both upholds the uniqueness and sanctity of Christian marriage, yet provides pastoral concern, love, forgiveness, mercy, and justice for contemporary man and woman. (Diocese of Massachusetts)

The present canons have proved inconsistent in application, lack greatly in pastoral concern, and often provide a double standard. (Diocese of New Hampshire)

It is evident from the pastoral experience of the Church that our present marriage canons are in need of revision. (Diocese of New Jersey)

The present canons cause grave confusion and hurt to thousands of the faithful. (Diocese of South Carolina)

The existing canonical regulations have, in the experience and observation of many, resulted in consequences deficient in compassionate love and departing from strict justice. (Diocese of Southern Ohio)

We believe that mercy and justice should be the determining considerations in adjusting each case. (Diocese of Tennessee)

As a result new canons recognizing divorce and permitting remarriage were adopted by overwhelming margins in the House of Deputies, by 108 to 4 among the clergy and by 111 to 2 among the laity. In the House of Bishops the vote was 76 to 57. There has been no controversy since. A working consensus had been reached.