A History Lesson: Protestant Roots

Last weekend, I stayed after Mass to listen to one of Father C's doctrine classes that he typically offers every other week (this is in addition to the catechism I discussed in my previous post). Most parishioners stay and attend the lectures which cover a variety of topics, delving into specific Catholic doctrine and dogma, as well as providing an education on other religions.

This most recent class was on Protestantism. Deep breath.

Before I discuss this class and any specifics of what I learned, allow me this caveat: there is no way I can adequately discuss the Protestant Revolt here. Veritable volumes have been written on the subject over the last five hundred years and anything I could put here would be such a highly diluted version of much better writings that it would be useless to attempt.

So. Deep breath. Again.

I inwardly cringed when I heard what the day's topic would be, but was simultaneously curious what the Catholic point of view on the whole matter would be. History is composed of facts and events, but how those facts and events are interpreted may vary greatly. I had always held a very high-level view of the Revolt (or, "Reformation" as it is often called): a few men saw some abuses in the Church and sought to eliminate those abuses. So far, so good. They disagreed with several practices and traditions of the Catholic Church including the authority of the Pope, devotion to Mary and the saints, the requirement of celibacy for ordained clergy, and several of the sacraments. This is about the time when the whole concept of sola scriptura came about, and with that the idea that history and tradition (both oral and written) were not reliable guides in matters of faith. Calvin came out with his writings on predestination, Luther nailed the 95 Theses to the wall.

That was (again, on a high level) the sum of my knowledge. I never questioned what had been passed down to me. What could be wrong with seeking to amend abuses and make Jesus more accessible to the people?

It was this day I learned some pieces that weren't included in my previous education on the matter: the Reformers were strongly influenced by humanist patterns of thought emerging from the Renaissance. They promulgated an essentially individualist theology spawned from the secular humanist philosophies popular at the time. They rejected the authority of the Church, rejected the previous 1,500 years of history and tradition (both oral and written), and rejected Sacraments that had been in place since the first century Church. Erasmus (who preceeded Luther) emphasized that true religion was primarily a matter of inward, individual devotion rather than outward expressions of ceremony, ritual, and the like. A concept Luther popularized was that each believer can be his own priest; this is not to negate the Scriptural concept of the priesthood of all believers (found in 1 Peter), but rather to eliminate the idea that priests and other ordained clergy possess the power to forgive sins and exercise a measure of spiritual authority over believers.

None of this is to say that no abuses were taking place within the Church; there were abuses of tradition and authority taking place that were in grave need of reform. But does it necessarily follow that because a thing is abused, the thing itself is inherently wrong? Take parental discipline as an example. I think we can all agree that it is a good thing for parents to discipline their children when they disobey. We know all too well how that can be abused: there are horrific stories of parents beating their children (sometimes to death), handcuffing them to radiators, locking them in closets and depriving them of basic necessities. We could throw up our hands and cite those examples as reasons why it's a bad idea for parents to discipline their children. See what an awful thing discipline is? See how harmful it is to children?

The Reformers adopted a similar line of thought in separating themselves from the Catholic church. Some might make a case for the Reformers being moved by a desire to do away with those practices and traditions that were entirely without basis. If they were only attempting to correct abuses, that would be one thing (and a thing that was already being addressed by Rome). But essentially what they were doing is saying: the Church has been doing it wrong for the past 1,500 years. Here's the right way to do it. And so the Reformers rejected the authority of the Church and replaced it with the authority of the individual believer: no priests were necessary for forgiving sins, no Church necessary to instruct believers since each individual may use Scripture to determine what he or she believes (these were not the only traditions and practices that were done away with, but for the purposes of not turning this post into another volume on the subject, is the aspect to which I am limiting myself here).

I never understood before what a big deal the Revolt was. I initially understood it to be a reformation of abuses or an elimination of the practices that were unsound, unbiblical, or without any real basis. But now I see it very differently: the Revolt served to reject and turn its back upon the traditions and practices that the Church had held since its inception and proclaimed that the way they prescribed was not only an improvement, but the way Christ intended it to be. One of the more popular notions in line with this Reformist way of thinking was that of sola scriptura: the idea that Scripture is sufficient unto itself to be the final authority on Christian doctrine (this differs with the Catholic view that doctrine is legitimately taught by the teaching authority of the Church, drawing on the Deposit of Faith which consists of Sacred Tradition, of which Sacred Scripture is a part). At first blush, sola scriptura may appear to be essentially sound, but in reality is born of individualistic patterns of thought.

Though the concept of sola scriptura does not appear in Scripture and despite the fact that Scripture had not been widely available in its written form to believers for the 1,500 years of Christianity, the Reformers disseminated the concept of Scripture as the sole authority for faith. Mediation through anyone but Christ alone was seen as unbiblical. To a Protesant way of thinking, there is probably nothing much that appears to be amiss here. It's only when I started taking a step back from this way of thinking and trying on this point of view that I began to see what might be especially spurious about this mode of thought.

For one, the Church managed to grow and thrive in its first 1,500 years without sacred Scripture being available to the masses. This is not to say it's not important or that it should not be available on an individual basis; but if we're going to adopt a sola scriptura perspective where faith and its practice is concerned, what is the implication for the believers in the first 1,500 years of the Church? Even Protesants cannot divorce themselves from this history; I don't know a single Protestant that would say that Christianity did not have its true beginning until the 95 Theses were nailed to the door at Wittenburg, nor one yet who would say that the churches founded by the likes of Sts. Peter, Paul, and Timothy were somehow deficient due to the fact they did not possess Scripture in its written form.

The potential implications of this are astounding: Scripture did not exist when Christ ascended into heaven. If we assume the Reformers were correct in their assessments that Scripture is the sole inspired rule of faith and that the authority and tradition of the Church holds little to no sway over the believer, then Christ essentially left the Church without much of a plan for executing the Great Commission and without any solid support for its teachings. If Scripture is the sole inspired rule of faith, it would seem that it wasn't until the printing press came to be that individual believers had any reliable rule of faith to follow. So where does this leave the Church for the first 1,500 years of its existence if the Sacred Tradition born of the Deposit of Faith was basically bunk?

Think of it: Christ passed His authority on to the disciples and commanded them to go make disciples, baptize them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and to teach them everything He had commanded them (without the benefit of written Scripture, just the teachings of the Word made flesh). There we see Christ conferring His authority to those He's designated, commanding them to baptize and teach. Since Scripture did not then exist in its written form, we must assume that these teachings were passed on orally and promulgated throughout the ancient Churches the same way: those given the authority to do so taught other believers; so the Church grew and thrived through tradition, through the faithful stewarding of the authority handed down by Christ Himself.

This is one place where my thinking has taken a dramatically different course. Being raised within the Protestant tradition, I had no reason to doubt the soundness of sola scriptura, nor did I question any of its implications (or even pause to consider what those implications might be). Perhaps it comes in part from our protesting, reactionary roots; from its very beginnings, the Protesant Church has made a point of renouncing ecclesiastical authority (I speak of authority in a spiritual sense here, as opposed to an administrative sense). Initially I squirmed at the thought that another human being might have the power to forgive my sins, or that my beliefs should be subjected to the authority of the Church. And then a friend pointed out to me: is it more likely that I am in error, or two thousand years of teaching and tradition? Put that way, my squirming seemed very arrogant indeed.

But then I began to see that this was Christ's design: there's no getting around that he conferred upon the disciples the power to forgive sins, nor that it is the Church that is the pillar and foundation of truth. I have to believe that these things hold true not just for first century Christians, but for twenty-first century ones as well. If we're supposed to be behaving as a Body, how is it that we are essentially making churches of ourselves, interpreting and deciding on an individual basis what is and what is not correct, making ourselves "the pillar and foundation of truth"? This goes against the very grain of Christ's teachings. Some abnegation needs to take place, or the Body will be impotent (severely compromised, at best) where the Great Commission is concerned. Just imagine how potent the Church would be at accomplishing its purpose if we were wholly unified in our faith and its practice!!

I cannot begin to describe what a comfort this is to me. I once believed that it was just Jesus and me, and thank goodness there is the church where I can worship and learn with other like-minded believers who will pray for and help one another when in need. But the Church is so much more than that! Christ said that the Church is His body, the earthly extension of Himself. It's not just Christ in heaven then that has authority; His authority extends to His Body on earth, to those whom He has specifically appointed. The Church may instruct and mediate for the same reasons: the Church is an extension of Christ, the earthly manifestation of our True Head in heaven. He has entrusted our souls to its care, not to ourselves alone. In entrusting our souls to the Church then, we are entrusting them to Christ.

And so when I convert, I see now that I will not be confessing my sins just to another human being; I will be confessing them to Christ. There will be a man there, a flesh-and-blood being like me, but endowed with authority by Christ Himself to forgive sins. And I know they will be forgiven, because that's what Christ promised. And I will know that the Church is not just a conglomerate of individuals, but a Body tightly bound together in purpose, in faith, and in practice.