Tuesday, June 22, 2004 AD
Heresy, schmeresy
The word "heresy" gets bandied around rather a lot on the web, not least in the Lutheran BlogosphereTM. In particular, Lutherans often accuse Calvinists of Christological heresy, arguing that the Calvinistic doctrine of the Lord's Supper is essentially Nestorian. This is because it involves separating out the human and divine natures of Christ, with Christ's human nature being confined to a spacially-located "heaven", and only His divine nature being omnipresent.
However, Calvinists give as good as they get, arguing in return that Lutheran Christology (particularly the communicatio idiomatum) is a bizarre innovation held, out of the whole of Christendom over twenty centuries, only by Lutherans during the past five hundred years. The Lutheran doctrine of the Lord's Supper is essentially Monophysite, they assert (see, for example, Berkhof's Systematic Theology).
I do wonder whether this sort of thing really gets us anywhere. For starters, I am very reluctant to start using words like "heresy" in this context. Perhaps its partly a result of being English - it's difficult to hear the word "heresy" without this calling to mind the crackling of fires at Smithfield. And I have to declare a more personal interest: having been, until less than a year ago, a convinced Calvinist, I have no burning desire to denounce myself as a but recently-recanted heretic.
But my own view remains that a word like "heresy" should be restricted to the sort of error that involves a "clear and present danger" to a person's soul. For example, outright denial of the divinity of Christ or of the doctrine of the Trinity, or an outright assertion of some form of justification by works. These teachings put people in immediate eternal peril, and one of the biggest problems in the wider church today is the reluctance to call a spade a spade, denounce such teachings as heresy, and excommunicate those who insist on spreading such dangerous errors, particularly from the pulpit or the bishop's throne.
We may well believe that the Calvinistic doctrine of the Lord's Supper will sooner or later lead to a form of Nestorianism. We may well believe that Arminian teachings on salvation will sooner or later (and, to be frank, usually sooner) lead to a form of works-righteousness that overthrows justification by faith. For that reason, among others, it is right to oppose such teachings tooth and nail. But it is possible for people to be in error on such issues without necessarily losing their salvation. Ideas will always work out to their logical consequences in the end, but that doesn't necessarily happen in an individual life. People are remarkably adept at holding to inconsistent beliefs (for example, believing that they are saved by grace alone on account of Christ alone through faith alone, and yet speaking of their own freely-made "decision for Christ").
To take one example I've used before: John Wesley's doctrinal errors have caused incalculable damage to the church. But we'll have all eternity to talk that through with him (if we so wish) in heaven, where he most assuredly will be with us.
As we've seen, Calvinists accuse Lutherans of Monophysitism; Lutherans forcefully deny this allegation and insist that Calvinists are guilty of Nestorianism. This in turn is angrily rejected by Calvinists. And so it goes one. In short, both sides profess to hold to a Chalcedonian Christology, and deny that their teachings on the Lord's Supper contradict Chalcedon.
My view is that each side should take this claim from the other at face value. To a Lutheran, it may seem incomprehensible how a Calvinist can teach that Christ's human nature is as far removed from the bread and wine as the heavens are from the earth without contradicting the "without division, without separation" of Chalcedon. To a Calvinist, it seems equally impossible to imagine that one can speak meaningfully of a "human nature" that is not spacially located and confined, so that the Lutheran teaching is regarded as contradicting Chalcedon's "without confusion, without change". But each side is entitled to say to the other, "We don't pretend to understand how our teachings are to be reconciled with Chalcedon; we simply accept the paradox and hold the teachings in tension." If someone affirms Chalcedon and believes (albeit, in our view, mistakenly) that their other views do not contradict this, then we should not be too quick to apply the term "heretic", with all its connotations of damning error.
There is one reason which stands above all others for rejecting the Calvinistic doctrine of the Lord's Supper: the Bible does not teach it. The theory that "this is my body" means "as surely as you eat the bread, so surely do you receive Christ's body by faith", and "this is my blood" means "as surely as you drink the cup, so surely do you receive Christ's blood by faith" (to summarise the Reformed teaching as set out in q.75 of the Heidelberg Catechism) is elegant and not without its attractions. But it is simply not the teaching of Scripture - rather, it is an attempt to make Scripture fit preconceived notions of "what Jesus could have meant".
No doubt Lutherans are right to assert that the Reformed teaching on the Supper leads to a contradiction of Chalcedon, in which case there is clearly a case for saying to Calvinists, "Given that you profess Chalcedon, how can you hold to a doctrine of the Lord's Supper which contradicts it?" But baldly accusing Calvinists of Christological heresy only muddies the water, increases ill-will between fellow Christians - and doesn't affect that central fact, of the teaching of Scripture, one way or another.
However, Calvinists give as good as they get, arguing in return that Lutheran Christology (particularly the communicatio idiomatum) is a bizarre innovation held, out of the whole of Christendom over twenty centuries, only by Lutherans during the past five hundred years. The Lutheran doctrine of the Lord's Supper is essentially Monophysite, they assert (see, for example, Berkhof's Systematic Theology).
I do wonder whether this sort of thing really gets us anywhere. For starters, I am very reluctant to start using words like "heresy" in this context. Perhaps its partly a result of being English - it's difficult to hear the word "heresy" without this calling to mind the crackling of fires at Smithfield. And I have to declare a more personal interest: having been, until less than a year ago, a convinced Calvinist, I have no burning desire to denounce myself as a but recently-recanted heretic.
But my own view remains that a word like "heresy" should be restricted to the sort of error that involves a "clear and present danger" to a person's soul. For example, outright denial of the divinity of Christ or of the doctrine of the Trinity, or an outright assertion of some form of justification by works. These teachings put people in immediate eternal peril, and one of the biggest problems in the wider church today is the reluctance to call a spade a spade, denounce such teachings as heresy, and excommunicate those who insist on spreading such dangerous errors, particularly from the pulpit or the bishop's throne.
We may well believe that the Calvinistic doctrine of the Lord's Supper will sooner or later lead to a form of Nestorianism. We may well believe that Arminian teachings on salvation will sooner or later (and, to be frank, usually sooner) lead to a form of works-righteousness that overthrows justification by faith. For that reason, among others, it is right to oppose such teachings tooth and nail. But it is possible for people to be in error on such issues without necessarily losing their salvation. Ideas will always work out to their logical consequences in the end, but that doesn't necessarily happen in an individual life. People are remarkably adept at holding to inconsistent beliefs (for example, believing that they are saved by grace alone on account of Christ alone through faith alone, and yet speaking of their own freely-made "decision for Christ").
To take one example I've used before: John Wesley's doctrinal errors have caused incalculable damage to the church. But we'll have all eternity to talk that through with him (if we so wish) in heaven, where he most assuredly will be with us.
As we've seen, Calvinists accuse Lutherans of Monophysitism; Lutherans forcefully deny this allegation and insist that Calvinists are guilty of Nestorianism. This in turn is angrily rejected by Calvinists. And so it goes one. In short, both sides profess to hold to a Chalcedonian Christology, and deny that their teachings on the Lord's Supper contradict Chalcedon.
My view is that each side should take this claim from the other at face value. To a Lutheran, it may seem incomprehensible how a Calvinist can teach that Christ's human nature is as far removed from the bread and wine as the heavens are from the earth without contradicting the "without division, without separation" of Chalcedon. To a Calvinist, it seems equally impossible to imagine that one can speak meaningfully of a "human nature" that is not spacially located and confined, so that the Lutheran teaching is regarded as contradicting Chalcedon's "without confusion, without change". But each side is entitled to say to the other, "We don't pretend to understand how our teachings are to be reconciled with Chalcedon; we simply accept the paradox and hold the teachings in tension." If someone affirms Chalcedon and believes (albeit, in our view, mistakenly) that their other views do not contradict this, then we should not be too quick to apply the term "heretic", with all its connotations of damning error.
There is one reason which stands above all others for rejecting the Calvinistic doctrine of the Lord's Supper: the Bible does not teach it. The theory that "this is my body" means "as surely as you eat the bread, so surely do you receive Christ's body by faith", and "this is my blood" means "as surely as you drink the cup, so surely do you receive Christ's blood by faith" (to summarise the Reformed teaching as set out in q.75 of the Heidelberg Catechism) is elegant and not without its attractions. But it is simply not the teaching of Scripture - rather, it is an attempt to make Scripture fit preconceived notions of "what Jesus could have meant".
No doubt Lutherans are right to assert that the Reformed teaching on the Supper leads to a contradiction of Chalcedon, in which case there is clearly a case for saying to Calvinists, "Given that you profess Chalcedon, how can you hold to a doctrine of the Lord's Supper which contradicts it?" But baldly accusing Calvinists of Christological heresy only muddies the water, increases ill-will between fellow Christians - and doesn't affect that central fact, of the teaching of Scripture, one way or another.
