Becoming Like John the Baptist

Although I happen to believe that Catholicism is the ultimate fulfillment of all ecumenical trajectories, the way is not open to most of you at the present, and that’s okay because it is not the only path to greater unity. I see many productive interim steps. But no matter the path, we all must develop an ecumenical heart.

Developing an Ecumenical Heart

The term “ecumenical” comes from the Greek word οἰκουμένη , meaning the “world”. That’s what we are after, the world church—one unified whole. Winning you to this ecumenical vision and priority (i.e., a heart focused on unity) would be a great start. Here are some of its characteristics:

First, an ecumenical heart will mourn over the worldwide Church’s disunity, not merely because of its negative effects on evangelism and missions, but also because it is a end unto itself.

Second, an ecumenical heart will attend to the things that divide us—questioning them with new eyes, probing them with greater honesty and objectivity, and using as a criterion the values apparent in the heavenly vision of the New Jerusalem in Revelation 21. Many divided churches need to step from their isolated and divided realities into fellowship with churches that better resemble its unity.

Third, an ecumenical heart will honestly recognize the status of Protestantism. In particular, it is fractured–perhaps irretrievably. It has clarity on neither its essentials nor its boundaries. It has no center. It has no unifying presence or authority. Instead, its track record is of persistent division. It does not concern itself with unity because to do so would erode its basis for existing in opposition to the other options. Its expressions, without exception, represent stands against. The initial strains of magisterial Protestantism (i.e., Lutheran, Reformed, Anabaptist, Anglican, etc.) were all conceived as splits from Catholicism and/or each other, and every more recent branch of Protestantism is a split from these or their children. These splits did not attempt to join with others but to forge identities in contradistinction to the rest. The question must be considered, to what extent really can traditions with division endemic to their DNA ever come to value unity for the theological virtue it is? To what extent does the de-prioritization of unity stem from the fact that it tends to undermine their original justification for splitting?

Fourth, an ecumenical heart will honestly confront the history of Protestantism, the first recognition of which is that Protestantism was new to the historical scene. A rich and vibrant Christianity existed for three of its life spans before it came into being.

And Protestantism brought many new distinctives that did not exist before. New approaches to authority, hermeneutics, soteriology, and ecclesiology corroborate what should be obvious even apart from it: Protestants split from the existing Church over these novelties.

Now, while some Protestants throw out as irrelevant the prior fifteen hundred years of the church, Protestants who value history and continuity claim that they are the true branch that stems from that period. But (Protestant) echoes of “Luther contra mundum” rightly presuppose that Luther stood against the vast majority. He broke with the existing system. Even if he was right about all theological matters, he and his supporters initiated the schism.

This signals Luther’s (and the other Reformers’) discontinuity with the Christianity of their period and everything in continuity with it. Recognizing the continuity between that period and preceding periods, Protestants began to (were forced to?) claim that only continuity with the apostolic deposit in the Scriptures was necessary. In other words, one impetus behind sola scriptura was the inability of Reformers to prove their continuity with prior epochs of the Church. But since Scripture is multivocal, many groups were and are able to appeal to it to justify their beliefs, even if those beliefs were born, as most Protestant distinctives were, in division.

What is more, whatever virtues might be associated with the original expressions of Protestantism (e.g., stances against the moral bankruptcy of various expressions of Roman Catholicism in their day), the Protestantism of today is divorced from its origins, not concerned with unity by and large, largely ignorant both of history and Roman Catholicism, and lacking the structures needed to unite.

In my view, which was forged as a Protestant, such things attend a sober assessment of the status and history of Protestantism. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you can find ways that Protestantism might unite in concrete and visible ways and offer a unified voice to the lost. I would completely support you in that.

Such attitudes would provide a great start to developing an ecumenical heart and sober vision of what it would take to re-unify. Perhaps we could agree on that?

The State of a Divided Church’s Conscience

Some of you will be uncomfortable with what I’m saying and look for reasons to discount it. But Revelation 21 and John 17 aren’t going anywhere. They remain to rail a divided church’s conscience. And if your first or predominant reaction to what I’m saying is defensiveness, and not a conscience disturbed by our divisions, you have not understood the significance and gravity of these passages.

You should ask yourself whether your priorities aren’t all out of whack, whether you are more committed to the distinctives of your Christian denomination than to unity. But did Jesus ever pray for his disciples to hold to sola scriptura? Were any of his words in his final treatise about justification by faith? No. They were about unity.

Here’s the thing. Two independent cities cannot coexist forever, calling the same individuals in different directions. One or the other will need to be dismantled, for a divided heart can never beat with the same passion as one undivided, and a divided house cannot stand. How much more true of thousands of cities (i.e., church identities)?

But I don’t expect anybody (let alone everybody) to cast all their convictions to the wind in order to join a communion with which they disagree. To think such a thing possible according to ordinary means would reveal a rather unenviable historian and sociologist. On the flip side, is it unreasonable to entertain some hope that increasing numbers of true christopheroi (Christ-bearers) would yearn for unity, strive to fulfill their Savior’s wishes, and embrace the sacrifices necessary to build a united kingdom?

Sacrifices

What sacrifices do I mean? I’ve already proposed the sacrifice of our distinctive identities in favor of a common one–one that the early and Medieval (and modern Roman Catholic) churches called “catholic”.

But different sacrifices are needed first. When I say Protestantism must fade into Catholicism, I do not mean that any of the hard work can be circumvented or skipped. We must familiarize ourselves with the beliefs and practices of our brothers and sisters across the aisle, with history and the Great Tradition, and with the issues which divide us, including their presuppositions, justifications, and implications for Christian doctrine and life. This work will require the sacrifice of much time and effort.

And let’s not forget one of the most important sacrifices. These tasks will require humility–the sacrifice of our pride.

Building Bridges across the Tiber

Ancient Rome was built next to a great river called the Tiber, and to get to Rome from one side, it had to be crossed. Analogically, between modern Protestants and Roman Catholicism lies the Tiber, which represents a great conceptual distance, and great distances demotivate us from crossing. Meanwhile, unity demands that it be crossed, in one way or the other, from one side or the other. The problem we face is that there is simply no way for most Protestants to see how this might happen, and perhaps the same is true for most Catholics. And this is partly because the bridge is insufficiently built for them, and the river seems wild and murky. Why should we want to swim in there?

But this is not true of everyone. I, like many before me, have crossed the Tiber. And while the journey is difficult, and difficult in proportion to the degree to which our distinctive views have become central to our identities, I have become somewhat comfortable in its waters, though they are a bit lonely. But I can tread and swim down to the bottom. I can jab at the dangerous fish. And because I can, I feel as though I need to help build the bridge across it, because not everyone is suited to swimming, and those who are typically prefer the clear waters and manageable distance of a pool. There is always an inverse relationship between the amount of work a path requires to complete and the number of people who try. So a bridge is better. I myself have gladly profited from where others have built the bridge.

But here’s the thing. Some Protestants think Catholicism (and sometimes all other Protestant churches) are heretical and dangerous and contain few or no genuine Christians. Under this view, there is no impetus or motive to unite. Such a view will need to be addressed at a later time. But others among you recognize that Catholics (and other Protestants) are brothers and sisters, and you recognize that division with them is not a good thing. You may feel that division is necessary, but necessary things are not always good things. To you I would say this.

You do not need to fathom conversion to Catholicism as you seek to build an ecumenical heart. Think about your efforts to build unity as work on a common bridge. After all, if the bridge is built, people can just as easily move from Catholicism to you as you to Catholicism, for a bridge runs in both directions. And, I suspect, as you are working together with Catholics on this bridge, you will see new things, things with the power and potential to re-orient you to truths and perspectives hitherto hidden.

I suspect this because this is what happened to me. I have lived and moved and had my being within Protestantism. As I began to venture out into the Tiber, I began to discover things that other journeymen, who have not yet swum out, are not yet aware of. When someone has gone on a trip that you have not, they know things that you do not because they have seen things that you have not. But by the going, you get to see things too, if you are willing. And so I have my suspicions.

But even if all my suspicions are wrong and nobody walks across the bridge, either from the left to the right or vice versa, nevertheless, in the process of building that bridge, they will have wandered out into new terrain, and this will inevitably result in greater rapprochement and interpersonal unity, which is a type of unity that Protestants value. This is a desirable end in itself, and we could use more of it.

And so I help build bridges. Will you join me?