Why Christianity's creeds often miss the main point
April 29, 2023
Before I get to the core of David Bentley Hart's most recent book, Tradition and Apocalypse: An Essay on the Future of Christian Belief, I want you to know that the author seems to be simply incapable of writing a passionless or vacuous sentence. It's also true, however, that in seeking just the right word for just the right meaning he stretches his vocabulary into mysterious caverns I've never visited. If you can read Hart without a dictionary -- print or virtual -- next to you, award yourself an honorary doctorate degree.
Now, then: Hart insists that we'll almost certainly miss the point if we look for the core truths of Christianity as they are expressed in past institutional statements of dogma/doctrine, confessional statements of faith or accounts of the alleged history of how doctrinal development happened. And we also are unlikely to find those truths by studying Christian history, he says -- at least not in a way that points to or anticipates the revelation of the glorious endpoint ahead, which is (or should be) at the heart of the faith.
Rather, we're more likely to find Christian truth and meaning by looking to some future culmination, some final revelation, some distant horizon when what began at the first Easter finds its final shining, halcyon horizon.
More on that soon. But speaking of that astonishing Sunday morning in Jerusalem nearly 2,000 years ago, read -- and then read again -- how Hart, an Orthodox Christian scholar who has done his own translation of the New Testament, describes what happened in what may be the best summary of that cosmic event I've ever read:
". . .Christianity entered human history not as a new creed or sapiential path or system of religious observances, but as apocalypse: the sudden unveiling of a mystery hidden in God before the foundation of the world in a historical event without any possible precedent or any conceivable sequel; an overturning of all the orders and hierarchies of the age, here on earth and in the archon-thronged heavens above; an overthrow of all the angelic and daemonic powers and principalities by a slave legally crucified at the behest of all the religious and political authorities of his time, but raised up by God as the one sole Lord over all the cosmos; the abolition of the partition of Law between peoples; the proclamation of an imminent arrival of the Kingdom and a new age of creation; an urgent call to all persons to come out from the shelters of social, cultic and political association into a condition of perilous and unprotected exposure, dwelling nowhere but in the singularity of the event -- for the days are short."
The problem, of course, was that Jesus promised us God's Kingdom but what we got, at least so far, was and is the church. So when that started to dawn on disappointed people after the resurrection, they drew up creeds and doctrinal statements to explain it all and to encourage people to wait for the reign of God to come in full flower -- wait not by doing nothing, wait not by abandoning faith, but wait by trying to live according to the kingdom values Christ taught: love, mercy, justice, compassion, grace.
Those official creeds and confessional statements have been charged with bearing the weight of "tradition." Hart rightly contends that they haven't been able to do anything close to that. For countless reasons, they have fallen short -- primarily because they have looked to the past instead of anticipating the glorious culmination of history, an end-of-time when all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.
"If only it were possible," he writes, "for everyone to enjoy the blissful naivete of incurious belief, without it degenerating into fundamentalism or morbid formalism or some other impediment to healthy moral and intellectual growth; then, perhaps, the incensed anxiety that produces traditionalism and the tragic disappointment that destroys faith could both be avoided."
But even worse than doctrinal statements created by church authorities to keep people attached to the faith (by fear, if necessary), Christianity allowed itself to be coopted by political leaders (Emperor Constantine is an early example) who turned this radical faith in the risen Christ and the ushering in of God's reign into the catastrophe of Christendom. And then more statements of doctrine and dogma got created to justify what the church was degenerating into as it began, in effect, to worship Pilate instead of the one Pilate had ordered crucified.
"Faith," Hart writes, "whose only rationale is faith is not faith at all. Doctrine jealously preserved or confidently espoused solely on the grounds that it is doctrine is nothing but vacuous assertion masquerading as sincere conviction."
And it's not as if those various statements of belief from various periods of the last 2,000 years locked in the essentials of the faith forever.
"How easily," Hart notes, "what, by any sound historical judgment, appear to have been essential elements of the Christianity of the first generations became at best accidental to the Christianity of the next few centuries, and then as often as not entirely absent from the Christianity that ensued in the next few centuries after that, as social, political and ideological conditions shifted around the communities of believers."
But it's even worse than that: "In fact," he concludes, "the entire way of life that was at one time the very essence of Christian existence, with its contempt for wealth and its civic dereliction and its hostility to the mechanisms of power by which societies and nations and empires thrive and survive and perpetuate themselves, is the very way of life to which most Christian culture throughout the centuries has proved implacably hostile. . . It would be no exaggeration to say that, viewed entirely in historical perspective, cultural and institutional 'Christianity' has, for most of its history, consisted in the systematic negation of the Christianity of Christ, the apostles and the earliest church."
In fact, Hart (pictured here) adds this: "(A)t some very deep level, the history of Christian belief and the substance of Christian doctrine seem irreconcilable with one another. . .(T)he historical record remains a chaos of ambiguities, and the authority of tradition remains grounded in nothing but itself."
So what is the church to do? Hart suggests we quit relying on the past as much as we've been doing in our doctrinal statements and what we call our tradition and remember that the "Gospel" is "the promise that God's truth has entered creation as a historical event whose full meaning can be known only in its entire historical unfolding." And, clearly (and disappointingly) that hasn't yet happened.
What, then, do we mean by "Christian tradition?" Hart: "(T)he living tradition, if indeed it is living, is essentially apocalyptic: an originating disruption of the historical past remembered in light of God's final disruption of the historical (and cosmic) future."
It is, in other words, fealty to what Christians pray for each time they say "The Lord's Prayer": "Thy kingdom come. . ."
That, Hart insists, is what we must remember: The reign of God that Jesus proclaimed is coming. Don't lose hope. Just don't imagine that it will resemble much of anything found in the creeds or in our own imaginations. God would not be God if God were that limited. In fact, of what the Apostle Paul calls the three great virtues of the tradition -- faith, hope and love -- both faith and hope, Hart insists, "are destined to fall away when they reach their fulfillment in immediate knowledge; only when love alone abides will we know even as we are known."
That's what Christianity insists is coming. That's what the Christian "tradition" should emphasize, setting aside nearly all else as secondary at best and distracting at worst.
If there is a disappointment in this book it's that it left me wanting more. For instance, Hart focuses with some intensity on the Fourth Century Nicene Creed, but deals only tangentially with the dozens of other statements of faith that various branches of Christianity have adopted over the centuries.
I would love to have read what Hart thinks of the dozen-plus confessions in the Book of Confessions of the Presbyterian Church (USA), including the Theological Declaration of Barmen, written in the 1930s as a rebuke of Adolf Hitler, and the Confession of 1967, produced in a time of social and racial turmoil and aimed at the concept of reconciliation. And what about the 1648 Westminster Confession of Faith, which allowed Greek philosophical thinking about an alleged "immortal soul" we each supposedly have to challenge Christian concepts, especially Christianity's idea of the "resurrection of the body"? Maybe Hart will do another book analyzing all these and more. I hope so.
(The photo of Hart here today is by Nicole Waldron.)
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IF YOU HIDE BIBLES WILL PEOPLE NOT READ THEM?
A Democrat in Arizona's House of Representatives has been caught hiding Bibles that have been in the state capitol building. And Rep. Stephanie Stahl Hamilton has apologized. Hiding Bibles? Apparently this was some combination of junior high humor and a protest about church-state separation. Oh, please, Rep. Hamilton. Yours was a solution in search of a problem. Which is a lot of what the bills passing in many state legislatures are these days, the one in Kansas included.