Category: Scripture

9 min read

Scripture

What We Believe, Part 27: Tradition and Dogma

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

October 3, 2023 7:57 am October 3, 2023

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9 min read

If St. Irenaeus taught that Scripture belongs to the Church, that it can be read and interpreted well only within the communion of the Church, then how does that affect…

If St. Irenaeus taught that Scripture belongs to the Church, that it can be read and interpreted well only within the communion of the Church, then how does that affect what we believe? How does Tradition relate to theology and dogma?

Remember that in John’s Gospel, Jesus promised the Holy Spirit would lead the disciples into “all truth” (16:13). What does that look like? To explore this question, we’ll turn to another Father of the Church, St. Basil the Great. But, before doing so, let’s think about the Nicene Creed.

In most Catholic churches across the globe every Sunday, believers recite (or even sing) the Nicene Creed, beginning with “I believe in one God.” More properly, this profession of faith is called the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed because it is the final product of two ecumenical councils — the Council of Nicaea in 325 and the Council of Constantinople in 381. This creed (the first two-thirds of it) is the Church’s attempt to settle the fourth-century Arian controversy — an argument, in short, about the Son’s relationship to the Father, namely, about what exactly we mean by calling Jesus “God.” Arius — a popular Alexandrian priest and good preacher — argued that Jesus was not God in the same way the Father is God, saying that the Son “is not eternal or coeternal or co-unbegotten with the Father, nor does he have being with the Father.” The Son, Arius said, is in some sense a creature; that is, there was a time when the Son was not. Now, this didn’t sit well with his bishop, Alexander, who called him on it; and soon, basically, a theological war broke out across the whole Christian world.

The new lone emperor, Constantine, didn’t like all this fighting one bit, because it threatened the unity of the empire. In response, he called an ecumenical council, gathering as many bishops as he could at Nicaea in 325, who said in substance: “No, Arius, the Son is indeed of the same substance (homoousios) with the Father. The Son is certainly begotten — the ‘only-begotten’ Son, in fact, but not ‘made,’ as you, Arius, wrongly teach.” The Son is “true God from true God,” Nicaea declared, meaning that Jesus is indeed God. That, in short, was the fight the bishops of the Church attempted to settle. Though, in the end, they settled nothing, for the fighting just spilled out into new debates. They succeeded, though, in preserving a key element of the Christian faith — the full divinity of Christ — which is why the declaration of Nicaea has stood the test of time.

But the bishops at Nicaea didn’t say anything about the divinity of the Holy Spirit. Stating what they believed in, the Nicene fathers simply said, “And in the Holy Spirit.” And that’s probably because the theology of the Holy Spirit wasn’t yet an urgent issue needing articulation. But it soon would be. It wasn’t until the Council of Constantinople in 381 that the Church articulated her belief (albeit somewhat diplomatically) in the divinity of the Holy Spirit, adding that third portion of the Creed — which begins “I believe in the Holy Spirit.”

Now, the Church didn’t invent its belief in the Holy Spirit in the fourth century as some have argued. That’s not the case at all. Christians had always believed in the Holy Spirit. It’s just that it wasn’t until controversy arose that the Church struggled to state its belief in the divinity of the Holy Spirit — and then, only after a great deal of argument.

Here enters St. Basil the Great. He, alongside St. Gregory of Nazianzus, was one of the great champions of the Church’s belief in the Holy Spirit, arguing against those he derisively called the “Pneumatomachians” or “Spirit-fighters.” These, Basil argued, didn’t believe the Holy Spirit was divine like Jesus and the Father. In the fourth century, it wasn’t all that clear to some people — even after reading Scripture — that the Holy Spirit was God. Some believers in Jesus don’t believe this even today. It just wasn’t clear to some that the Holy Spirit should be ranked equally with the Father and the Son. Which, basically, was what the debate was about: Is the Holy Spirit also God?

The way the Church argued then for the divinity of the Holy Spirit was dynamic. First, theologians pointed out that if you read Acts of the Apostles and other passages in the New Testament that speak of the Holy Spirit, the Holy Spirit often acts and speaks as a person. And the argument was that only God speaks personally as the divine. In Acts of the Apostles, for instance, the Spirit speaks (Acts 1:16; 8:29; 10:19, etc.), the Spirit sends (Acts 13:4) and appoints (20:28) and directs the apostles (Acts 16:6), and so on. But this wasn’t the most persuasive argument. The more powerful argument rested on the Church’s practice of baptism.

As long as anyone could remember, Christians had been baptized in the name of the “Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” No one could remember differently. It was St. Athanasius who first made the argument from the Church’s practice of baptism that since only God can sanctify and save, and that — if you’re baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit for salvation — then the Holy Spirit must be God as well. It was absurd to think otherwise, Athanaius said (“Letters to Serapion,” No. 1.30). But this was an argument based upon Christian tradition, not just Scripture. It was based on how Christians celebrated and understood baptism that informed their reading of Scripture, which enabled them to see in Scripture the fuller revelation of the Trinity.

Using both Scripture and Tradition to make theological arguments was completely appropriate, as St. Basil the Great taught in his treatise “On the Holy Spirit.” “Concerning the teachings of the Church,” he said, “whether publicly proclaimed or reserved to members of the household of faith, we have received some from written sources, while others have been given to us secretly, through apostolic tradition. Both forces have equal force in true religion.” Aside from particular theological questions about the Holy Spirit, for our purpose, the larger point is that St. Basil here cuts down to the ground the notion of sola scriptura — the argument that one needs only the Bible to make theological claims or settle theological arguments. “No one would deny either source — no one, at any rate, who is even slightly familiar with the ordinances of the Church. If we attacked unwritten customs, claiming them to be of little importance, we would fatally mutilate the Gospel, no matter what our intentions — or rather, we would reduce the Gospel teaching to bare words” (“On the Holy Spirit,” No. 27.66). Basil is quite clear that if you cut out tradition, we wouldn’t be able to read Scripture properly; rather, we’d “mutilate the Gospel.”

For Basil, this wasn’t a small point. The Christian faith itself hung in the balance. Those arguing on behalf of “Scripture alone” in the fourth century were those who argued against the divinity of the Holy Spirit. But Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus, Athanasius and others knew that wasn’t faith, for it grated against the full experience of the Christian faith. Hence, Basil’s tirade against those who rejected Tradition. “The one aim of the whole band of these enemies of sound doctrine is to shake the faith of Christ down to its foundations, by utterly leveling the apostolic tradition to the ground,” he wrote. “They clamor for written proofs and reject the unwritten testimony of the Fathers as worthless. … We will never surrender the truth; we will not betray the defense like cowards. The Lord has delivered to us a necessary and saving dogma: the Holy Spirit is to be ranked with the Father” (“On the Holy Spirit.” No. 10.25).

Now, all of this should make clear the larger point: When reading or hearing Scripture, our reading and understanding is mediated by other people’s reading and understanding, and our interpretation is influenced explicitly and implicitly by those who interpreted and lived out the Scripture before us. Even so-called fundamentalists are influenced by a tradition, it’s just that they adhere to a conceptual fiction that they’re reading the text purely, unfiltered by earlier interpretations. This is silly, Augustine basically said, for no one can claim any insight exclusively their own “except possibly falsehood” (“On Teaching Christianity,” Paragraph 8). Reading the Bible through the community is not only good, it’s necessary; it’s as it should be. Tradition is as necessary to the Faith as Scripture — our established belief in the Holy Spirit is proof of that truth.

This is what the Catholic Church teaches, and this is what we believe. Tradition is the “living transmission” of the Faith, distinct but closely connected with Scripture (Catechism of the Catholic Church, No. 78). Both “are bound closely together, and communicate one with the other. For both of them, flowing out from the same divine well-spring, come together in some fashion to form one thing, and move towards the same goal.’ Each of them makes present and fruitful in the Church the mystery of Christ, who promised to remain with his own ‘always, to the close of the age’” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, No. 80). So, what was going on, for instance, when St. Basil the Great stood upon the ancient practice of baptism, and read Scripture so as to argue that the Holy Spirit is to be ranked with the Father? The answer is that Tradition and Scripture were working together to present the true Gospel in the fourth century. The Church’s practice of baptism was basically primordial to the Christian era, predating Scripture. And referring to that primordial sacramental practice was necessary, as Basil argued, to understanding the Scripture correctly. In short, only by the light of Tradition can we understand that Scripture teaches that the Holy Spirit is God.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books. Read more from the series here.

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9 min read

Scripture

What We Believe, Part 8: The Church Still Glorious, Still One

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

September 20, 2023 7:00 am September 20, 2023

9 min read

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9 min read

Is oneness even possible? Is the Church one today? Is Christian unity possible at all? These are all reasonable questions, which is why we must follow Jesus to the very…

Is oneness even possible? Is the Church one today? Is Christian unity possible at all? These are all reasonable questions, which is why we must follow Jesus to the very end of John 17.

“And I have given them the glory you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be brought to perfection as one … ” (Jn 17:22-23). Notice Jesus is not letting go of the point. In John’s Gospel, it seems whenever Jesus teaches something necessary but scandalous — so scandalous that even his disciples think he should tap the breaks a bit — Jesus only presses the gas more. Like in John 6 when Jesus said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven,” people started to murmur (Jn 6:41). So then he said, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you,” which, of course, made the situation even more tense (Jn 6:53). But still, he made the point even more strongly, saying, “my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink” (Jn 6:55). All the while, the disciples are in the back wishing Jesus would zip it as people start to walk away. But that is not what Jesus does. He keeps hammering the point, probably because eternal life depends on it. And so, here we are again: may they be one, may they be one, may they be brought to perfection as one — just in case we were not getting it. By this stage in our close reading of John 17, do you think Jesus thinks Christian unity is important? Or, do you think it is something Jesus would say is not all that significant, take it or leave it?

But how can we even begin to imagine Christian unity is possible? Notice Jesus is still talking about glory: “I have given them the glory you gave me.” Is the glory of God insufficient? Is the glory of God weak? Did not the angel Gabriel say to Mary that nothing is impossible to God (Lk 1:37)? Is the glory of God not enough to make Christians one? What are we saying about God when we say Christian unity is not really possible? Are we saying he may not be almighty after all?

“…that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me” (Jn 17:23). Again, why struggle to be one Church? Why struggle for unity? The answer is: for the sake of love. Because we believe God created the world in love, sustains it in love and redeems it in love. And the way that love is revealed to the world is through Jesus’s disciples who are in love with each other in oneness. St. Thomas Aquinas put it this way: the world will see “in amazement the glory of the saints” in unity and love.^[1] That is how the world will see love, by seeing Christian love.

I mentioned earlier the unique love I have for my wife and children: I love them as a father should love his children, and as a husband should love his wife, loving them more than I love your wife and kids. But that is so they can learn how to love and be loved; so that they in turn can love others well, which in turn makes the world a more loving place. Again, that’s how love grows. And, thinking about this in terms of the Church, that is how the rest of the world knows God’s love — by seeing it in Christians, in the Church. So, how can we Christians more credibly tell the world God loves them? By being one. Everything Jesus has been praying about — the oneness of his disciples, the oneness of believers today — is for the sake of love, so the world may see it.

“Father, they are your gift to me. I wish that where I am they also may be, that they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world” (Jn 17:24). Jesus’s eternal glory is now revealed as love. He desires that we be one so that we may be with him. Jesus desires it. He is not indifferent about whether we are one; he is not neutral on the question — he desires it! Jesus prays to his Father desiring our unity from the deepest core of his being. Why? Simply so that we can share in the glory of God together. And, again, remember the context: Jesus is praying that his disciples be one, that they be where he is, at the disciples’ worst and weakest moment. Jesus is praying they remain with him as they are doing the exact opposite, as they are scattering in darkness. This is strangely comforting, that at our worst moments, at our moments of scattering and sin — whether personal or ecclesial — still Jesus wants us with him.

When you sin, what do you think God is thinking? Is he mad? Do you think God wants nothing more to do with you? When I get into a fight with someone, I want to avoid that person, avoid the awkward encounter. It is human to avoid the person we are in conflict with. But the problem is that we sometimes project that very human instinct onto God, fooling ourselves into thinking God wants to avoid us after we have sinned. But that is not true. It is not in God’s nature to do that. After Jesus’s prayer in John 17, all the disciples scattered and left him alone. One of them betrayed him, and still, Jesus wants them and prays to be with them. You, at your worst moment — or me at mine — still have Jesus praying for you, loving you, wanting you. Never fool yourself into thinking that God will ever say to you, “I’m done with you.” Because he will not. “I am with you always,” Jesus said after the resurrection (Mt 28:20). He meant that. At the least, this reminds us of the good of hope. No matter what, Jesus will always want us. We can always return to him.

Which reveals God’s justice. “Righteous Father, the world also does not know you, but I know you, and they know that you sent me. I made known to them your name and I will make it known, that the love with which you love me may be in them and I in them” (Jn 17:25-26). Jesus ends his prayer invoking the justice of God. Often when we think of God’s justice, we think of the wrath of God, sometimes of some mean and nasty deity in the sky out to get us. We think of going to hell. But in this prayer that is not how Jesus thinks of the justice of God. He thinks of it in terms of love and knowledge. The justice of God is not the wrath of God sending you to hell. The justice of God is your communion with him, your love with him — a strange justice, because we certainly do not deserve it. God’s justice is our sharing life together with his Father with him in the Holy Spirit — in oneness and holiness. Also notice Jesus’s promise that he would continue to make his name known. The glory Jesus gave, he still gives. And so, what was true in John 17 — the call to oneness and holiness — is just as true now as it was then. And also, the grace available to accomplish oneness is just as available now as it was then. Again, millennia removed from this prayer, still this prayer claims us. We cannot ignore it — unless, of course, we no longer believe in glory, no longer believe what Jesus said.

A great deal of what we believe is found in John 17, especially that which we believe about the Church at its deepest level. Again, John 17 reveals the DNA of the Church. The Church is a sacramental entity, a sociological entity, an institutional and bureaucratic entity, all with a rather dusty, vibrant, glorious and squalid 2,000-year history. Yet in her essence, the Church is the oneness that the Father and the Son share in the Spirit. The Church, in its essence, is a communion — a communion in the Trinity that is open through Christ to the disciples, and which is also our communion and life together.

So, whenever you come into contact with the Church in her historical or her institutional forms — sometimes aggravating and sometimes glorious — we should always remember that the Church is first and foremost this — the oneness Jesus prayed for the night before he died.

Now of course, it is our belief that this oneness is in substance (although not entirely) the Roman Catholic Church. This, undoubtedly to many, is a scandalous claim. It certainly was to me. But we’ll explore that later, for that too is something we believe.

Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books. Read more from the series here.

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8 min read

Scripture

What We Believe, Part 7: The Church’s Mission for Glory

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

September 12, 2023 7:00 am September 12, 2023

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8 min read

Jesus’s prayer in John 17 makes clear that the disciples are to be joyfully one in holiness, bound together in a glory the origin of which is divine, the glory…

Jesus’s prayer in John 17 makes clear that the disciples are to be joyfully one in holiness, bound together in a glory the origin of which is divine, the glory of the Father and the Son. This is the Church on earth in its genesis. Now, as we follow Jesus further in this prayer, we see the Church in its growth.

“I do not ask that you take them out of the world but that you keep them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth” (Jn 17:15-17). Again, Jesus’s prayer is for holiness, not escape. Jesus does not want his disciples to bury their heads in the sand, abstain from the world as if they are too pure. He wants them to be the salt of the earth, light of the world (Mt 5:13-16). The plea that his disciples will be kept from evil echoes the Lord’s Prayer.

“Consecrate them in the truth.” Some translations say “sanctify.” The plain meaning is that Jesus is praying the disciples are made holy in truth. They will be protected from the evil one insofar as they are consecrated in the truth. The truth is the “word.” The truth is Jesus. Earlier in the Gospel, Jesus said the Father had consecrated and sent him into the world (see Jn 10:36). Now he asks the same for the disciples.

“As you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world” (Jn 17:18). Up to this point, we have witnessed the genesis of the Church, also that it is one and holy. Now we are beginning to see that it is apostolic. As earlier, note the trajectory: the Father sends the Son, then the Son sends the disciples, making them apostles. I call this the mission for glory, this movement begun within God himself but which will in time envelop all creation. Here it begins. The Father sends the Son and the Son sends the disciples; and then the disciples sent their disciples, and their disciples sent their disciples, and their disciples their disciples — all the way to you today, or whenever it was someone talked you into going to Church or introduced you to the Faith for the first time. This mission for glory, this apostolic movement stretches from the Father all the way to you.

We see it in Scripture and in history, this great movement of grace and the Spirit. As I said, this marks the true growth of the Church, at once spiritual and geographic. In the first chapter of Acts of the Apostles Jesus says that his disciples are to bear him witness in “Jerusalem, throughout Judaea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). Thinking of Acts as a whole, the text begins in the city of Jerusalem but ends in Rome. That is the mission for glory, the evangelical growth of the Faith and the Church. As the Church teaches, that is why the nature of the Church is missionary, because it has its origin in the “mission of the Son and the Holy Spirit,” the final purpose of which is to welcome all people into the “communion of the Father and the Son in their Spirit of Love” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, No. 850).

“And I consecrate myself for them, so that they also may be consecrated in truth” (Jn 17:19). It is because of his talk of consecration here that this prayer is often called Jesus’s “high priestly prayer” or his “sacerdotal” prayer. As the Father consecrates Jesus, Jesus at the same time consecrates himself because he shares the Father’s divine nature. Yet it is Jesus’s humanity that is consecrated, and it is a consecration for us. That is, as we share in Christ’s humanity, we are consecrated in him, in truth. “He who consecrates and those who are being consecrated all have one origin” (Heb 2:11). Although Jesus is soon no longer to be present to them in the way they have grown accustomed, they are consecrated in him. That is, as this community of disciples becomes apostolic, they will remain one and holy. But, of course, we should remember what form such consecration takes, namely that of a cross. Talk of consecration is very close to talk of sacrifice. It was by the Cross, through his blood, we were consecrated (see Heb 13:12). Now, this matters because of what it suggests is true of our consecration, that it will be sacrificial too. Which, of course, is why the Cross will always be part of the Faith and life of the Church.

“I pray not only for them, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one…” (Jn 17:20-21). Here is where we see even more explicitly the Church not only in genesis but in growth. The disciples are sent to us. If you want to know where in the Gospels Jesus literally prays for us, here you are. We are “those who will believe through their word.” But that means what Jesus desires for his disciples — that they be one, holy, apostolic — he desires also for all disciples of the future, for us too.

And this is where the rubber meets the road: “may all be one.” He prays for those who will believe through the disciples’ word, that they too may all be one — hēn. Again, to speak personally, this is why I’m so uncomfortable about our apparent comfort with Christian division. The lack of any sense of a problem with Christian division and denominationalism, the strange notion that all that matters is an individual’s personal relationship with Jesus regardless of one’s communion with others, it is indeed an easy thing to think, especially in polite company. But let us not fool ourselves by assuming this way of thinking has anything to do with the New Testament. It doesn’t. Jesus prayed for oneness. Just as his disciples are to be one as the Father and the Son are one, so too are today’s disciples. Again, long before converting to Catholicism, this is what haunted me, that Jesus wanted us to be one, but that we were not one at all.

But why is this so important? Jesus goes on: “as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us…” (Jn 17:21). Is it possible that our oneness as disciples is a condition of our communion with God? That, at least in this verse, the oneness of disciples seems conditionally associated with divine indwelling should serve as a deep warning about our unreflective comfort with Christian division. Our participation in God is involved in our participation with each other. How can we be divided and still comfortably assume God’s favor? Our union with each other does matter. Where two or three are gathered, we should remember, Jesus is present (see Mt 18:20). Our relationships with each other are significant to our relationship with God. Again, these are the verses that began to make me uncomfortable being content with Christian denominationalism and division. They are the verses that forced me to think of the Church like a Catholic, to think of the Church as communion, one communion, holy and apostolic.

But that is not the only reason oneness matters. Remember, Jesus is sending out his disciples for a reason: “that the world may believe that you sent me” (Jn 17:21). Supposedly Gandhi once said, “If it weren’t for Christians, I’d be a Christian.” Speaking from his experience of Christians, it was a fair point. When your experience of Christianity is of warring missionaries, when, on the one hand, you have the pope and, on the other hand, televangelists, Twitter stars, and megachurch preachers, each claiming to represent Christianity, it makes perfect sense that reasonable people would look at all these different voices and pass on Christianity, to think none of it credible or believable. It is amazing to me that more Christians do not see this. And it is also amazing to me how many Christians and Christian institutions, of all denominations, spend vast amounts of time, energy and money on evangelism and missions, tinkering with preaching, with outreach and on and on, yet very few say anything about this verse: “may they may all be one … that the world may believe.” To me, it is perfectly obvious why Christians of any stripe are having a hard time convincing people about Jesus, because our divisions have become so many and so hardened. Unity affects credibility. Jesus said so. This has always been true, and is what we have always believed.

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4 min read

Scripture

Are Gospels Myth or History?

Carl Olson

September 4, 2023 9:19 am September 4, 2023

4 min read

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4 min read

Any Catholic who spends time reading popular atheist literature will soon encounter the claim that the Gospels are works of myth and legend, devoid of much or any historical fact….

Any Catholic who spends time reading popular atheist literature will soon encounter the claim that the Gospels are works of myth and legend, devoid of much or any historical fact.

One of my favorite examples of this popular — that is, both non-scholarly and widespread — atheist ignorance comes from a filmmaker, Brian Flemming, who recently produced a documentary titled “The God Who Wasn’t There.” The documentary, he explained, is to show that the “biblical Jesus” is a myth, created whole cloth by superstitious, unlearned early Christians. Asked to summarize the evidence for his stance, Flemming said: “It’s more a matter of demonstrating a positive than a negative, and the positive is that early Christians appeared not to have believed in a historical Jesus. If the very first Christians appear to believe in a mythical Christ, and only later did ‘historical’ details get added bit by bit, that is not consistent with the real man actually existing. … I would say that he is a myth in the same way that many other characters people believed actually existed. Like William Tell is most likely a myth…. Of course, [Jesus] is a very important myth.”

“All I’m saying,” Flemming added, “is that [Jesus] doesn’t exist, and it would be a healthy thing for Christians to look at the Bible as a work of fiction from which they can take inspiration rather than, you know, the authoritative word of God.”

Actually, it would be helpful and healthy if skeptics like Flemming would put in the time and effort demanded by the evidence. As examples of such efforts, I’ll mention just three recent, impressive works: “Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony,” by Richard Bauckham (Eerdmans, 2006); “The Resurrection of Jesus: A New Historiographical Approach,” by Michael R. Licona (InterVarsity, 2010); and “The Historical Jesus of the Gospels,” by Craig S. Keener (Eerdmans, 2012). These detailed, lengthy works highlight three basic facts.

First, the Gospels were written by men who knew the difference between myth and historical fact. The author of the Second Letter of Peter makes this abundantly clear: “We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty” (1:16). The opening verses of Luke’s Gospel shows that Luke sought “to compile a narrative of the events that have been fulfilled among us,” so that “you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received” (Lk 1:1-4). Thus the Gospels and other New Testament texts include numerous references to secular rulers (Caesar Augustus, Pontius Pilate, Herod, et al.), as well as Jewish leaders (Caiaphas, Ananias) — names unlikely to be used inaccurately or even show up in a “myth.” As such, the historical content of these works should be judged not against mythologies, but against other first-century works of history.

Second, the Gospels are a combination of biography and history following the structure and approach taken by Greek and Roman authors to the same literary genres. The German historian Martin Hengel wrote that Luke was “a historian and theologian who needs to be taken seriously. His account always remains within the limits of what was considered reliable by the standards of antiquity.” As Keener shows, ancient historians — including the Gospel writers — had high standards for accuracy, even if they didn’t always employ the same techniques as modern historians. For example, ancient historians sometimes changed chronologies, or presented their works in a topical, not chronological, manner.

Third, the uniqueness of the Gospels has less to do with the literary form and much more to do with the radical identity of Jesus Christ. And this, really, is the ultimate point of conflict. Atheists begin with the philosophical assumption that there can be no divine intervention in history. Thus the Gospels must be myth. Christian historians, however, while acknowledging their belief in God, are willing to begin by examining the Gospels as historical texts, and then follow the evidence where it leads. In doing so, they are being truly open-minded.

Carl E. Olson is the editor of Ignatius Insight. He and his family live in Eugene, Ore.

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5 min read

Scripture

Is the Bible an historical book?

Sister Anna Marie McGuan

September 1, 2023 8:01 am September 1, 2023

5 min read

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5 min read

Many will ask whether or not the Bible is historical. Since it is a rather complex set of books itself that can be easily misinterpreted and misrepresented, the question that…

Many will ask whether or not the Bible is historical. Since it is a rather complex set of books itself that can be easily misinterpreted and misrepresented, the question that must be asked is: which part?

Bishop Robert Barron is always quick to point out that the best approach to understanding the Bible and how to read it is the same one we take at the library. There are different sections in the library containing different types of books. The same is true in the Bible. There are different sections within the Bible, each section with its own books. There are also diverse literary genres in the various biblical books and sometimes within the same book itself; these are all placed side by side within the one binding of the Bible. Instead of one book, there are 73 for Catholics. Each of those books has its own historical formation and its own story to tell. The important thing to remember is that one does not read every book nor every literary genre in the same way.

For example, the poetry of the Song of Songs is very different from the liturgical and sacrificial instructions of Leviticus. If I tried to read Leviticus as allegorical love poetry, I would not get very far. Likewise, the creation stories and the archetypal imagery and stories of the first chapters of Genesis are not the same as the history of David and Saul and the rise of the Kingdoms of Judah and Israel. They have to be read with different literary lenses, so to speak. Otherwise, I can easily misunderstand the purpose and message of the book.

Again, a common question that comes up in this regard is about the historicity of the Bible, and especially Old Testament. If we apply the contemporary standards of historical writing to the Bible, then it is clear that the Old Testament is not history. However, if we can accept that the biblical authors wrote history in a different way than we do, we can begin to accept the stories as historical, even though they are not written in according to present-day standards. The birth of Samuel, for example, need not be a part of the story of the foundations of the monarchy for the sake of the strict history of Israel. Without it, though, it is hard to explain the deference showed to him by all the people, including Saul and David. The figure of Samuel looms large in the story of the rise of Israel’s monarchy and from a literary point of view, he is hugely important. Perhaps a secular historian would see Samuel as inconsequential to the formation of the monarchy, but in the biblical understanding of history his story is essential

There are other passages in the Old and New Testaments that have a stronger historical flavor, such as the cursory lists of the regnal years of the kings of Israel and Judah with the brief descriptions attached to each king. There are also passages in the Acts of the Apostles where the author gives a detailed account of the places traveled by Paul and himself. He names ancient ports and cities, along with descriptions of their naval adventures. Paul, in his letters, also gives accounts of his experiences as a Pharisee and then as a Christian apostle.

The Gospels, which tell about the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth, have sometimes been devalued as historical documents. The fact that they were written around 60-90 A.D., so close to the time Jesus lived, and that they give detailed information about the life, ministry, and death of Jesus should caution us against such a hasty dismissal of their historical value. In fact, reading the opening verses of the Gospel according to Luke can shed some light on what he, for one, was trying to do as he assembled his material and composed his gospel account:

“Since many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as those who were eyewitnesses from the beginning and ministers of the word have handed them down to us, I too have decided, after investigating everything accurately anew, to write it down in an orderly sequence for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received.”

Luke tells us that many people were writing about Jesus’ life, ministry and death. The information about Jesus came from eyewitnesses to the events surrounding his life. Luke decided, after researching and speaking with various people, to write his own “orderly account” so that the reader of his gospel would know the truth about what Jesus really did and taught. That, perhaps, is not history as we normally think of it, but it certainly does not preclude the contents of the Gospel from being historically accurate.

Developing a sensitivity to the diverse literary genres of the Bible can help clear up some of the confusion about the history it records and the stories it contains. It will allow for a fruitful reading of this document that is so critically important to understanding the history of Western civilization.

Sister Anna Marie McGuan, RSM is Director of Christian Formation in the Diocese of Knoxville.

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Scripture

What We Believe, Part 9: The Earliest Church

Father Joshua J. Whitfield

August 30, 2023 7:00 am August 30, 2023

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7 min read

Focusing on the Church first not so much as an institution or historical entity, not so much in sociological terms, we must discover the Church is in its nature: that…

Focusing on the Church first not so much as an institution or historical entity, not so much in sociological terms, we must discover the Church is in its nature: that it’s the communion the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit opened up to believers in Christ. In John 17, Jesus prayed that his disciples would be perfectly one — in and for glory, joy and love — just as the Father and Son are one (see Jn 17:11, 21, 23). This is the essence of the Church, and it is what we must grasp before thinking of the Church in any of its other aspects — historical, cultural, bureaucratic or otherwise. That we first see the Church theologically is essential.

But if this is true, we should be able to discern the Church in its essence over time in the tradition. Jesus of Nazareth prayed that his disciples — from beginning to end — be one in a communion of glory, joy and love. Yet, how is that true of today’s Church? Karl Adam, the great German theologian, offered a famous image to help us think of both continuity and change as it pertains to the essence of the Church. He said the Catholic Church relates to both the Gospel and the early Church as a great oak tree relates to the acorn (The Spirit of Catholicism, 2). That is, the Church and the Gospel are in organic continuity, two ends of a vast natural process. Which is why the best thing to do, moving on from John 17, is to read the rest of Scripture and then the tradition in order to track that very continuity — that one communion we call the Church.

To begin, then, we should notice what I called earlier the mission for glory — the great trajectory of the evangelical movement beginning in the Trinity. That is, the Father sends the Son while the Son sends the disciples (as the Spirit is also sent by the Father and the Son), who in turn send their disciples, who in turn send theirs, and on and on. This mission for glory is discernible immediately after the Resurrection, first in Jesus’ words to Mary Magdalene to “go to my brothers and tell them” (Jn 20:17). Later that first Easter evening, Jesus speaks of the mission for glory again, echoing his prayer to the Father, saying to the disciples, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you,” just before giving them the Holy Spirit and the mission of reconciliation (Jn 20:21-23). The other Gospels describe this mission as well, most famously perhaps in Matthew — in the so-called Great Commission — where just before his Ascension, Jesus tells his disciples to “make disciples of all nations” (Mt 28:19). Both Mark and Matthew’s version say that preaching, teaching and baptism are how disciples are to be made, and Mark even talks about accompanying charismatic signs (Mk 16:15-18). That is, how the Church is gathered into one is by means of preaching and sacraments. While more will be said later in this series, when we will explore Scripture, Tradition and the sacraments, at this point it suffices simply to point out that the mission for glory — beginning in the Trinity and which we learned about in John 17 — continues immediately after the resurrection of Jesus. That is, Jesus’ desire that his disciples be one does not end with John 17. Rather, it begins.

And it is important to note also that the mission for glory is also geographic. We see this right away in Acts of the Apostles, in Jesus’ instructions to the disciples to bear him witness “throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). The command, basically, is to go north and beyond. Here the various traditions of apostolic missions begin — Peter and Paul to Rome, John to Ephesus, Thomas to India, and so on. Now, this is important because it shows us that the mission for glory involves a double movement. That is, as the apostolic mission extends outward, enveloping in time the entire globe, God, by that same mission, gathers everyone to him. To put it simply: As the Church spreads out, God gathers in. This belongs to the very mechanics of mission and evangelism. It is why the Church still seeks to bear witness to Christ in all things, from foreign missions to parish preaching to small acts of personal charity and testimony. It is how we share our faith in Christ, how the Church grows — the one communion of glory, joy and love that Jesus prayed for. This is how it happens.

Now Luke describes what this communion looked like, at least ideally at the start, in Acts of the Apostles. There he tells us the earliest Christians “devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life, to the breaking of the bread and to the prayers” (Acts 2:42). This, Luke says, is what the first Christians were up to. First, they were committed to apostolic teaching and fellowship, that is, to the message that the Father sent the Son and that the Son, Jesus of Nazareth, died, rose again, ascended, and will return; and also that the risen Jesus calls us into communion, into oneness. Second, they were devoted to the “breaking of the bread,” that is the Eucharist — to be explored further later. And then, they were devoted to “the prayers,” again, something else to explore later. At this point we should remember the first Christians were also good Jews, so they would have been faithful in their daily prayers in the Temple, or at least in direction of the Temple.

Luke also says, “All who believed were together and had all things in common” (Acts 2:44). Now what this exactly means is debated, which is an argument well beyond our discussion. Remember, though, what we are trying to discover — traces of the mission for glory and signs of the oneness Christ prayed for. How was that oneness lived out as Church at the beginning? They held “all things in common.” Now, again, we need not get sidetracked by questions as to what exactly this meant, for example, whether this was some form of early Christian communism (which it is not by the way, as we’ll discover later). The simple point here is that the early Church had a strong and tangible notion of what it meant to be one. They prayed together, celebrated the Eucharist together, and shared their material resources — it was a real tangible communion and not merely a construct of conceptual or ideological agreement. The Church at this point was lived more than it was conceived. And they lived it “every day,” Luke tells us, gathering in homes, for there were as yet no churches. Yet, increasing in numbers and in the Lord’s favor, the Church grew — because of what they believed and in whom they believed.

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