"Send Out The Dogs and Tally-Ho!"
No.105: April 29, 2022
Dear Friends,
I started writing this newsletter a few days early this week. It was supposed to be a short and concise essay following up on last week’s missive on Medieval theology. Then I stopped and noticed I was already at 2,000 words and it was clear that “short and concise” was a little too ambitious. Just a tad too long for a newsletter.
So, you’re welcome: I’ve set that one aside for the time being, but might release it some time in the future as a special three-part series. There is a desperate need in evangelical circles to have a serious awakening about the historical roots of our professed Christian faith, and I’ll try to do my part. The short answer: we should avoid Roman Catholic romanticism about church tradition, and we should avoid Anabaptist/Fundamentalist cynicism about church tradition. But, as I say, more to come.
So, now what should I talk about?
Here’s something related to all that, but also very weird. On Wednesday I was reading in Volume 3 of celebrated Yale historian Jaroslav Pelikan’s The Christian Tradition. It was a passage about a controversy that erupted in the 9th century (yes, the 800s) concerning whether or not is it appropriate to say that Jesus Christ was, in any sense, “adopted” by the Father. The obvious concerns were raised: wouldn’t this jeopardize his eternal sonship, as though he isn’t eternally begotten, “God from God, Light from Light” (Nicene Creed)? Isn’t it a denial of the deity of Christ? Didn’t the early church reject this when it condemned Nestorius and other “Adoptionist” views?
Well, a number of 9th century theologians said, “Not so fast.” There might well be a sense in which the Son of God, having assumed a human nature as the Second and Last Adam, undergoes a transition or change in status in relation to his Father (the typical way of describing this is “according to his human nature.”) He became the “firstborn of many brothers.” He received an inheritance and the “name that is above every name.” Paul says he “was appointed Son of God in power” (Rom. 1:4). None of this calls into question his eternal sonship (indeed, it rests on it); but this manner of speaking simply highlights his incarnate work. In a word: He became (human—Adamic) Son and suffered so that humans might become adopted sons in glory. First he gets the inheritance so that we might be “co-heirs” with him.
The very next day—this is the really, really weird part—I saw a link to this article. Lo and behold, unbeknownst to me, a couple of theologians from Wheaton College published a paper attacking Richard Gaffin and David Garner for the exact same 9th century controversy I’d just been reading about. As I say, weird. The 9th century was a very long time ago, and you wouldn’t think it likely to casually pop up on a daily basis here in the twenty-first. Anyway, Drs. Gaffin and Garner ably defend themselves and disarm the criticisms. Click on that link above if you’d like to read it.
I need not wade into the debate itself, but I do want to take the opportunity to provide some practical reflections on this serendipitous turn of events.
The first thing I’ll admit is a bit flippant, so don’t misunderstand me: heresy and theological error is a big deal. There’s plenty of it around. But you know what there is also plenty of, particularly in the conservative theological circles I find myself in? Foolish controversies (2 Tim. 2:23). There is a type of person (and I’m not here accusing Gaffin’s and Garner’s critics personally—I don’t know enough about them) who for whatever reason is always on the attack, ready to pounce. He does not read anything charitably. He does not read for edification, to learn from others. He reads to argue. To find ammunition. This is the phenomenon of the “heresy hunter.” He knows no other category of error, by the way—there is no such thing as being “mistaken” or “imprecise” or “inconsistent.” You’re either orthodox on all the jots and tittles (as he sees it), or you’re a heretic.
But enough about Woke Twitter Social Justice Warriors.
Ooh. See what I did there? Yeah, this isn’t just a Christian thing; it’s a fallen human thing.
It’s exhausting, frankly. Maybe that’s why the Apostle Paul said “have nothing to do with it.” So one thing I commonly do (more often than you might think!) when another controversy inevitably erupts is fire up a track from Petra’s 1984 album, Beat the System. It’s called “Witch Hunt,” and it is so perfect it puts a smile on my face every time.
If you don’t want to listen (boo! and shame!) here are the lyrics:
Everybody look there's a new bandwagon in town
Hop on board and let the wind carry you around
Seems like there's not enough to keep us busy 'till the Lord comes back
Don Quixote's gotta have another windmill to attack
Chorus: Another witch hunt looking for evil wherever we can find it
Off on a tangent, hope the Lord won't mind it
Another witch hunt, takin' a break from all our gospel labor
On a crusade but we forgot our saber
There's a new way to spend all our energies
We're up in arms instead of down on our knees
Walkin' over dollars trying to find another dime
Never mind the souls 'cause we really haven't got the time
So send out the dogs and tally ho
Before we sleep tonight we've got miles to go
No one is safe, no stone's left unturned
And we won't stop until somebody gets burned
Bro Bro Bro Bro Bro Bro Brothers
Hard to believe that was 1984.
The second thing I’d like to observe, as the mere existence of both that song and the 9th century conflict proves, is this: there is nothing new under the sun. The controversy you think is new, the newfangled idea or debate you think is emerging for the very first time in human history, isn’t. This is not only true of theology, it is true of politics and civics more generally. Having a wide historical perspective will help keep you from having your hair on fire all the time. And there are a lot of people with their hair on fire all of the time. The collective blood pressure in our society is at alarming levels.
Relax a little. We have seen this before. The church has had this argument before, and has survived this argument before. Oh, and also, you should maybe consider that you’re not always on the right side of every theological argument. Case in point: apparently the critics of Gaffin and Garner thought they were defending the orthodox views of the Nicene and Chalcedonian fathers, but didn’t appear to know that Cyril of Alexandria—one of the chief architects of those conciliar documents—taught the “adoption” of Christ according to his human nature. Really, it ought to be fairly embarrassing to discover that the guy you thought you were defending actually taught the thing you’re attacking. We’ll see if there’s a mea culpa. That would be refreshing.
Here’s another notable example of that dynamic, also from the 9th century: a bishop named Hincmar was offended that another bishop, Gottschalk, was teaching the doctrine of “double predestination.” When Gottschalk defended himself by quoting St. Augustine at length, Hincmar then claimed that those must be forgeries or corruptions of the text because Augustine couldn’t possibly have written such things! (Spoiler alert: he did).
How about a lighter touch? A bit more modesty? A bit more charity? A few more interrogatives instead of exclamation points, opportunities for clarification before the condemnations are announced? How about—let me try it this way—be godly? And who is God? “The LORD, the LORD, compassionate and gracious God; slow to anger, abounding in love…” (Ex.34:60). One thing the Bible makes clear is that God—praise and thanks be to him!—does not have a hair trigger. He is long-suffering and kind, and perhaps we should try better to “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48).
I know I’ve got plenty of progress to make on this front myself. Dr. Gaffin was characteristically gracious in his response to a couple of guys (intentionally?) butchering his words. And I’d like to be more like him when I grow up.
And lest you think this is just a call for some kind of squishy latitudinarianism or theological relativism, I’ll make the additional point that long-suffering is not eternal-suffering. Even God’s patience comes to an end, and there does come a time when we’ve listened and learned long enough and lines need to be drawn. But, in my opinion, far too many of our controversies do not have the existential significance we think they do. I also think that there is an important difference between intramural controversies within the church (between “brothers and sisters”) and extramural controversies between Christianity and its cultured despisers. And on that note, I will close with this sobering reminder from Andrew Sandlin:
Just a friendly reminder that when the secular fascista come for the Christians, they won’t be distinguishing between cessationists and continuationists, paedobaptists and credobaptists, postmillennialists and amillennialists and premillennialists, high churchmen and low churchmen, and sacramentalists and non-sacramentalists.
They’ll be distinguishing between Christ-is-Lord biblical Christians and Caesar-is-Lord faux Christians.
You’d better decide right now who your real friends—and enemies—are.
Miscellany
The aforementioned Richard Gaffin’s magnum opus has just been released. It’s called In The Fullness of Time: An Introduction to the Theology of Acts and Paul. It’s essentially the flagship class he taught at Westminster Seminary for 30 years in book form. The Westminster bookstore has an excellent deal on it, if you click that link.
What a difference a week makes! My Minnesota Twins have won 7 straight and are in first place in their division. The national media still shrugs them off—they have these things called “Power Rankings” of the best teams in baseball, and it’s like the Twins don’t exist. The wakeup call is coming, and if you won’t hear it from ESPN, you’ll hear it from me. This team is legit.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!