Following on my previous post . . .
Again, the nub of my argument in the post that touched off this discussion was as follows:
Heretical doctrine is not merely doctrine which is in error, but doctrine which is in error on the core matters of the Christian faith, in such a way that the doctrine fundamentally threatens the integrity of the gospel message; it’s a significant departure from what C. S. Lewis called ‘mere Christianity,’ nothing else, and nothing less.
James Altena, another of my interlocutors, considered this a nefarious statement:
First, this substantially subscribes to the infamous PECUSA Bp. Righter trial assertion of “core doctrine”—which was, of course, a category invented precisely to provide a green light to all sorts of heresies, as the sequel has shown.
Interestingly, he followed that up by contradicting himself:
No orthodox thinker denies that certain doctrines are more critical to faith (in the doctrinal sense) that others.
Thanks for conceding my point. I’m not sure why he felt the need to call it “infamous” and “a category invented precisely to provide a green light to all sorts of heresies” first, but whatever works, I guess. Of course, having called my point orthodox, he then proceeded to return to attacking it, charging me with two fallacies. First,
It implicitly presumes that some doctrines are not inter-related but independent, and therefore that an erroneous or heretical doctrine can be quarantined from its effects on other doctrines. Thus, a lower-level error or heresy does not necessarily imply a high (or deeper) level error, or else cannot spread more deeply and lethally. But heresy is like gangrene—it spreads, and penetrates more deeply, so that one goes from losing some flesh, to losing appendages, to losing limbs, and finally to losing life itself.
I have several responses here. One, there is no such presumption. All doctrines are interrelated, as in fact all our beliefs about everything are interrelated. The presumption, rather, is that while theoretically, a small theological error (such as, I believe, the refusal to baptize infants) could spread throughout our theology and poison the whole thing, practically, that rarely happens. Such errors do not directly challenge the “doctrines [that] are more critical to faith,” and we either do not perceive the indirect challenge they pose or find some line of argument that convinces us that there is no challenge, and so in fact the error does not spread at all.
Two, the difference between doctrines which are merely errant and those which are heretical is precisely between those which do not generally spread, because they do not directly contradict the essential tenets of the Christian faith (to borrow a phrase), and those which do.
Three, the alternative to this position is to declare us all lousy rotten heretics and have done with it—or, if you’re arrogant enough to think yourself pure, to take the Roger Williams route and conclude that the only possible pure church is one that only includes you. None of us is free from theological error, and so if any error is sufficient to be called heresy, then none of us can escape the label. Of course, once you get to that point, the word becomes meaningless, and you need a new one to describe the errors which actually do destroy people.
Second, Altena contends,
It implicitly presumes that traditionalists believe (contrary to I Cor. 13) that doctrinal accuracy alone suffices for salvation apart from charity. Or, to put it a bit differently, that they hold faith to be fundamentally doctrinal, rather than primarily a matter of trust [pistis]. In fact, traditionalists actually hold instead that adherence to orthodoxy is properly an act of willing submission, obedience, and humility, which is a sign of such trust.
Again, there is no such assumption; in this case, I don’t even see how he thinks this logically follows. As such, I’m really not sure how to respond to this one except to say that some traditionalists are guilty of that error, and some aren’t.
Moving on, he writes,
Second, this fails to distinguish between heresy and theological error. Heresy is knowing and intentional rejection of orthodoxy; theological error is unknowing or unintentional rejection. Hence, while all theological error may imperil salvation to a greater or lesser degree, it is heresy that ensures it—not due to the magnitude or centrality of the error, but rather due to the sin of pride involved in the very manner in which the heresy is held and asserted.
This is purely a doozy. By that standard, straightforwardly interpreted, the only heretics are those who take the stance of Richard III: “I am determined to prove a villain/And hate the idle pleasures of these days.” Only those who are actively trying to be heretics are heretics—no one else is. That would be an extraordinarily generous stance.
Of course, it seems safe to me to say that that isn’t what Altena means at all. I think Tyler Dawn cut to the core of this one: given his previous statements, it seems to me that what he really means is “Heresy is knowing and intentional rejection of orthodoxy according to my definition of orthodoxy.” Those who hold different positions merely because they haven’t had the chance to agree with him get off with the lesser label of “theological error.” He may accuse others of pride, but I think he shows some of his own at this point.
Continuing on with Altena’s arguments, he says,
Third, a heretical view of divine anthropology indeed “fundamentally threatens the integrity of the gospel message” because it does imperil salvation.
I would of course agree with that, aside from his poor grammar. I simply deny that the line is where he says it is.
Mr. Harrison speciously tries here to invoke the support of C. S. Lewis.
No, I was merely giving attribution to the quote and concept. Academic politeness, nothing more.
He should go back and read Lewis’ essay, “Priestesses in the Church?”, in which Lewis made it as evident as possible that he did regard women’s ordination as being, to use Mr. Harrison’s own term, one of the “core matters of the Christian faith,” the adoption of which would have as its inevitable and necessary end a reversion to paganism.
That’s fine. I freely admit that I haven’t read the essay, but I have no trouble believing that Lewis took that position. I also have no trouble believing that if that’s the case, then he was mistaken. By Altena’s logic, I should now proceed to declare Lewis a heretic—but I won’t.
Finally, Altena contends that
the fundamental division reflected here is that which I have termed essentialism vs. functionalism. For those who may wish to brave it, a lengthy essay I wrote upon the topic was posted several months ago.
Having read the essay (I respect the Baylys), I think there’s a lot of truth in it. I disagree with his concept of “essentialism” to this extent: I believe it is not “a divinely created and endowed unique inherent constitution” that “both endows it with an inherent and ineradicable value, and intrinsically determines its capacities and relations to other things, and thus orders them all to their proper goals or ends”; I believe, rather, that it is God who endows, determines, and orders. It may seem a small point, and for the purposes of his argument, it is; I do think it’s a telling one as to his mindset and approach, however. I also think that to the extent that his grand philosophical argument connects to the practical issue of gender roles, those connections are asserted rather than argued, and that what he’s arguing against is a caricature of gender egalitarianism that no one (that I know of, anyway) who holds that position would recognize. It’s easy to argue against people if you don’t care what they actually believe.
Finally, we have Kamilla’s comment, which I must confess I found irresistably amusing. Her criticism provoked me to two thoughts: first, that she’s obviously never seen me argue; and second, that since I was working off a comment by Mark Driscoll, she essentially accused him of contributing to “the feminication of discourse.” The irony is astounding. Kamilla appears to be one who believes that the only alternative to “just be nice” (something for which I did not, do not, and will never argue) is to unleash one’s anger at everything bad. Beyond pointing out that one can in fact say something “without hesitation . . . firmly, forcefully and leaving the listener in no doubt” while also doing so gently, lovingly, and in a spirit of sorrow rather than anger, I will simply direct her to James:
let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.
As a coda, let me respond to TUD’s comments on the first part of this post:
Pastor Harrison, do you consider your response pastoral when you write “poor crippled excuse for an elipsis”?
Actually, yes, I do. A few raps over the knuckles like that from his teachers might have taught him to be kinder to the language; leaving people with a poor command of English does them no favors. One rap over the knuckles to me for misspelling “ellipsis.”
I’m just pointing out the unspoken presupposition on your part. Furthermore, there are some Christians who don’t accept a hierarchy of doctrines.
It wasn’t unspoken; and I’ve known of very few Christians who don’t accept any hierarchy of doctrines, whatever they may say. As far as I can tell, they’re about as common as liberals who are actually as tolerant as they claim to be.
You think that egalitarianism doesn’t merit the charge of heresy. Dr. Hutchens does. Ergo, there’s no consensual agreement.
I believe the proper response here is “Duh!” Obviously there’s no consensual agreement—that would be why we’re disagreeing. The point is, the fact that we’re disagreeing doesn’t mean neither of us is right—and therefore, equally, the fact that we’re disagreeing doesn’t in and of itself mean that I’m wrong.
If I understand your argument correctly, you’re saying that only doctrines which merit something along the lines of “Let him be accursed” deserves to be called a heresy? Is that your position?
My position is that Paul clearly does not regard all false doctrines as equally serious errors, though he regards all of them as equally false.
That’s one of your major problems. You’re not drawing on the wisdom of Christians of all ages in discussing this issue.
I didn’t say I’m not drawing on their wisdom; actually, I explicitly said the opposite. What I said is that I don’t consider myself constrained by stare decisis.
Well, with all due respect, I must also confess to being rather underwhelmed by your arguments in your original post and in this one as well.
He is of course entitled to his opinion.
