"I
believe; help thou mine unbelief" Mark 9:24. It is no longer fashionable
in the "corrected" political language of our society to label belief
as doctrine or dogma. Commonly defined as the litmus test in establishing the
parameters of what constitutes faithful adherence to a religious community,
doctrine has come to evoke images of narrow mindedness, authoritarianism,
intolerance, legalism, militancy and a general insensitivity to the
multicultural world in which we live. Those self-acclaimed propositional truths[1]
which at one time lent a sense of permanence and continuity to the church have
been displaced by modernism,[2] as the remnants of a ghetto
mentality.
In its place, modernity promotes its creed of
autonomous humanity where reason, optimism, individualism, progress and
relativism reign supreme. [3] Where once the church assumed a priori
the existence of God, the extreme this-worldliness of modernity has relegated
God to the knowledge of ourselves[4], resulting in the loss of any
sense of transcendence.[5]
Emancipated from the restraints of social,
political and spiritual traditions, society now finds it increasingly difficult
to impose any limit on the exercise of human freedom and the aggrandizement of
human power. Societal consensus about human values and beliefs that formerly
existed have been replaced by a privatized individualism in which "one's
own idiosyncratic preferences are their own justification, because they define
true self."[6]
The alter-ego of individualism is relativism.[7]
When left unabated, relativism further succeeds in diminishing accountability
to authority by giving credence to the notion that all opinions are equal. The
resulting problematic impasse is aptly illustrated by the fugitive story of two
ministers involved in a heated discussion about faith. Finally exasperated at
not being able to break down the defenses of his opponent, the one minister
concludes, "I guess we will have to agree to disagree, you can choose your
way and I'll choose God's." The point is well taken, people find it much
easier to acquiesce to the theory of relativity when it applies to their
neighbour. As for themselves, they will remonstrate the Absolutism of their own
claim. The axiom being that society longs for a recrudescence of Absolutism in
the measure it resigns itself to relativism.
While such an analysis is overly reductionist and
cannot possibly reflect adequately the impact of modernism today, it does,
nonetheless, highlight the vortex of relativizations facing the Christian
Faith. Confronted with this crisis of credibility, the question which surfaces
is, on what possible basis can we lay claim to the certainty of our
convictions?
The question is a substantive one. It shares a
relationship with the study of language concerning the meaning society gives
such words as faith, certitude, belief and trust. And it also raises questions
about the essential nature of Divine revelation: How does God reveal Himself?
And how should we accommodate the human element involved in interpretation?
But before we look to the field of language and
revelation in an effort to develop a contemporary theory of Christian
certitude, we should reflect on our traditional response to this challenge of
modernism. Generally, we have tried to ground our faith by appealing to the
Bible as the external authority. It is the thesis of this paper, however, that
any undue preoccupation with the pursuit of certitude, invariably frustrates
our ability to mediate the Christian Faith effectively. As Charles Davis has
observed,
". . . the pursuit of certitude is not genuinely
religious, but a temptation constantly besetting religious institutions and
people. Indeed, the direct seeking of certitude corrupts religion and has the
same relation to genuine faith as lust has to love. If we open ourselves to
love, we overcome lust: if we open ourselves to faith, we overcome the
obsession with certitude of the religious fundamentalist."[8]
Historically, the Church has generally sought to
build its faith on the acceptance of a system of mediation otherwise called
revelation. This is because the object of the Christian Faith namely, God
Himself, dwells well outside any naturalistic human framework. To accommodate
this gap between God and human beings, conservative Protestant[9]
theology has endeavoured to mediate the presence of God on the principle of
sola scriptura. Doctrinally, this principle has most recently expressed itself
through the defense of an inerrant Bible, with the overall aim to posit an
"authoritative and binding definition of God's truth in propositional form
to people in quest of certainty."[10]
This system of mediating or revealing truth as an
assured basis for our lives worked unquestioned for many years. It worked
smoothly on the assumption that the Bible was the very Word of God. Theologians
did not feel any vexing need to buttress their claim upon the quest for
certitude itself.[11]
It was not until conservative Protestants were
undermined by the impact of historical critical studies that the effectiveness
of this system of mediation began to wane thin. In the wake of modern
discoveries, words such as inerrance, infallibility and the literal
interpretation of the Scriptures emerged as the new shibboleths of conservative
Christianity.[12]
Specifically, as Pentecostals, we find ourselves
on shaky ground at this point. The rhetoric coming from our pulpits and
published literature would suggest that we have aligned ourselves very comfortably
with the theologically conservative side on this position. In a phrase which
pushes hyperbole to the limit, we readily declare that the "whole Bible in
the original is, therefore, without error and, as such, is infallible,
absolutely supreme and sufficient in authority in all matters of faith and
practice."[13] To suggest otherwise would invite cries of
heresy. Yet, from a Pentecostal standpoint, one cannot escape the irony of a
position that posits such a comprehensive definition of Scriptural authority
and pays only lipservice to the role of the Holy Spirit in the interpretation
of Scripture.[14]
As an explanation for this visible lacune,
theologian Gerald Sheppard claims,
". . . it is my position that the A/G, like most
other pentecostal denominations, did not aggressively shape their doctrine of
Scripture to reflect their own understanding, but passively incorporated in
their statements fundamentalist formulations in order to prove their orthodoxy.[15]
In contrast, Sheppard cites well known British
Pentecostal spokesman Donald Gee, who states,
"When we "came out" for Pentecost we came
out not merely for a theory, or a doctrine; we came out for a burning, living,
mighty EXPERIENCE that revolutionized our lives. The Baptism in the Spirit which
we sought and received was a REALITY, even though we probably understood little
of the doctrines involved at the time. How different, then, from the purely
doctrinal and theoretical issues involved in this matter."[16]
There is not enough space here in this essay to
trace or debate the theological vicissitudes of the doctrine of scriptural
inerrancy Ñ even if one is left to wonder whether our participation in the
debate has left us so learned in the letter of the Scripture that we have
turned our back on its Spirit. It is our goal, however, to evaluate the
theoretical and practical effectiveness of using this doctrine as a means to
bolster certitude.
From a theoretical point of view, the attempt to
use the Scriptures in this way has had little lasting result. Indeed, great
pains have been taken to prove the absolute accuracy of all Biblical accounts
in their original form.[17] Any wavering at this point, we are told,
would send the whole system of revelation into a dizzying tailspin.[18]
While the logic seems justified, does it erase uncertainty? Since we are not in
possession of the original manuscripts, and must satisfy ourselves with
translated MSS fragments, are we now concluding that the Bible in my possession
is less than absolutely inerrant?[19]
Secondly, on a practical level, it would appear
that such an attempt to ground our faith is just as ineffectual. By using the
Bible in and of itself, to establish the certainty of our faith, the door is
left open for any group to claim authority for itself. Who decides whether
their interpretation renders the most faithful understanding of the Divine
intent? Again, despite all efforts to the contrary, relativism foists itself
upon the Christian believer. The end result, in a culture which champions
democracy, is a forum in which all too frequently, public opinion, not Divine
revelation, becomes the final arbiter of truth. So echoes George Marsden,
"One of the peculiarities of American evangelicalism
is that its theological disputes are often settled in the court of popular
opinion. Whereas evangelicals appeal to the "Bible alone" for
authority, they lack adequate mechanisms for settling differences on how the
Bible is to be understood. Typically having weak views of the church or of
central ecclesiastical authority, they cannot depend on synods or councils to
adjudicate their disagreements. Nor is there any clear principle for
establishing the authority of the expert theologians. The authority of anyone
in most evangelicalism thus depends on winning popular support. . . . Popular
opinion has thus functioned as the evangelical pope, the ultimate court of
appeal. Vox populi vox papae. Or perhaps popular opinion has more often
provided, as in the late middle ages, multiple popes, each denouncing the
others."[20]
The resulting impasse leads to a perverse kind of
authoritarianism, where a charismatic leader, claiming sola scriptura can
impose his uncontested interpretation on his followers, who likewise believe
that they are only following the Bible. Ironically, a sense of certitude can be
artificially maintained but it is a Pyrrhic victory. It exists as a form of
repression rather than a means of mediating a truth unafraid of itself.
Religious faith did not seek this fight with modernity.
If it has responded to the challenge of modernity, it has done so reluctantly,
and as has been demonstrated, awkwardly. One of the apparent weaknesses in most
attempts to buttress the feelings of uncertainty created by modernism, has
occurred because the church has failed to take into adequate consideration the
social nature of our knowing and believing. As Richard Niebuhr points out,
"Trusting, holding for true, and even knowing have
their place not in that isolated situation in which a subject confronts an
object but in a social situation in which a self in the company of other selves
deals with a common object, ie. the use of language."[21]
There is a social dimension inherent within the
development of language that must be accounted for when we ask the question:
what does it practically mean when we say someone is certain of something?
Linguistics know the necessity of measuring the full value of any word against
the social consciousness of the society who owns that word. Not only are words
and the meaning we give them subject to socialization but this applies equally
to what we think or believe we "know" about the world. Knowledge
grows out of a socially shared structure.[22]
The strength of affirmation behind what an
individual believes to be true is usually the result of societal consensus.
Generally, an idea becomes true either through an individual's experience or
through the acceptance of someone else's experience.[23] This
presents no end of trouble for the person whose concept of knowledge is not
socially shared by others. The push is always in the direction of the majority.
The plausibility of any statement is secured the more others affirm it.
Conversely, a lone ranger will either have to conform to societal norms or risk
being ostracized as representing the fringe element.
In other words, the weight of our conviction or
certitude is directly dependent upon the strength of the supporting structure.
This is especially true with religious affirmations, which by their very nature
are outside the realm of sensory verification, and therefore, more dependent on
social support.[24]
The problem of discerning a clear voice of
certitude becomes aggravated even further when the plurality of contemporary
society is taken into consideration. The modern individual is compelled to
flounder in a sea of competing and often contradictory plausibility structures
each vying for his or her attention. Add to this the cacophony of dissenters,
"unbelievers," non-conformists et al, and one begins to come to grips
with the sheer audacity inherent within the word certitude.
For the theologian, the task is monumental. It
makes religious certainty very hard to come by. He or she cannot escape the
relativizing forces of history, psychology and sociology. Nor should the
attempt be made.
As has already been noted, it is the contention of
this essay that religious faith ceases to flourish when its participants are
locked into weighing the degrees of their certitude. Rather, it flourishes when
it invites individuals to experientially "try on" the Christian
message by participating in the Christian community.
The objective content of the Christian faith is
not contained in propositions or institutions. It is revealed through a
symbolic complex[25] which embodies the constitutive content of the
Christian tradition. Propositions and ecclesiastical authorities have their
place but as derivative expressions. They help understand the symbolic complex
not unlike the work of a critic working in the arts. Their analysis, therefore,
is always open to censure and further analysis with the passing of time.[26]
In such a matrix, a certain amount of relativism is not only welcome but it is
necessary in mediating a fuller image of the identity of God.[27]
Perhaps an analogy would be helpful here. As the
oldest son in a family of five, it is natural to assume that my image of my
father differs substantially from that of either of my two brothers (who are
five and eight years respectively my junior). While we have all enjoyed the
same father, our experiences in dialogue with him, have not been uniform. I was
the test case, the first one to learn the meaning of discipline, the first one
to drive a car, and the first one to leave home. From the experience gained at
my expense, my father modified his subsequent response to each of my other
brothers.
As a result, when we compare our images of him
today, a plurality of pictures is exposed. I remember the competitive sailor,
living for risks, very much in the prime of his life. My youngest brother
(eight years later) encountered a more relaxed, secure man who was willing and
ready to enjoy the quieter side of life. However, while we would be
hard-pressed to coalesce all our images, we could quickly reject any patent
distortions of who he was not. We would universally dismiss any portrayal of
our father as someone elusive, boring or otherwise unsympathetic to our needs.
While the variety of our experiences has resulted in an elasticity of
definition, we readily acknowledge that there are definite limits to our
father's portrait. What holds them together is our sense that they all form a
whole of which we each know a part. Ipso facto, it would be foolish for either
one of us to deny the reality of each other's images. Quite contrary, the
recognition of his dynamic, diverse character enriches, not diminishes, our
overall appreciation.
We can go one step further and say that my image
of who he is continues to influence how I perceive his words and gestures. In
this sense, his image goes before anything he says and yet reciprocally, what
he says and does continues to shape my perceived image of him as I understand
him more deeply.[28]
By carrying the analogy over into our present
context,[29] we may suggest that likewise, through revelation, we
enter into dialogue with the presence of God. Some are drawn into contact with
the arresting presence of God. They experience metanoia, a sudden turning
around in their lives. For others, it may be His community-forming presence that
gives them a sense of worth and direction. Still others experience the presence
of God as relationship-forming. They have a heightened awareness of their
emptiness apart from God's presence. Or it may be a combination of several
different encounters over the course of time.[30] In a circular
motion our experience of God is influenced by our perceived image of who He is.
Yet, at the same time, our image is constantly challenged and refined by our
experience.
Where does that leave our overall objective in the
quest for certitude?
First of all, we should recognize that the
certitude of faith shares the same paradoxical tension as does the vice,
"pride" and the virtue, "humility." The moment an
individual celebrates the elimination of pride, it returns. Likewise, the
instant one celebrates the acquisition of humility, it is lost. In the same
way, certainty of faith becomes anything but certain when it is construed as a
safeguard against doubt Ñ when it becomes afraid of itself. On the contrary,
faith is a self-transcending, trustful love of God. It is not designed for the
insecure. Revelation, says Richard Niebuhr,
". . . needs no defense; it is authoritative but not
authoritarian. Neither is it a once-for-all total package of information of
prescription. It has to do, instead, with an invitation to lifestyle, to
participation in a new realization of the created order. Thus revelation is a
process in which men participate and grow. Those for whom it becomes
authoritative must begin the never ending
pilgrim's progress of the reasoning Christian
heart."[31]
Again
this is aptly illustrated by the story retold by Martin Marty,[32]
of two men on a several day fishing vacation. "What is your wife doing
tonight?" asks one. "I haven't the faintest idea," answers the other.
"What? How can you trust her if you don't know what she is doing?"
The second one mumbles that he is not curious. He feels no need to snoop on
her; he has confidence.
The first questioner is not impressed. He proceeds
to demonstrate the ground on which his trust is built. "Oh, I want to be
able to have confidence in my wife. I know exactly what all her moves are. When
I ducked into the general store for a phone call, I was checking. Last night I
saw to it that she would go shopping with your wife, so I could check that out
when I got back. I know that tomorrow will be her PTA meeting. I have friends
who'll report whether she was there. There's no room for fooling around. I know
her movements and that's why I can trust her."
The point is made plain. Which of the two men knew
the meaning of trust? Which man demonstrates the peace that a proper approach
to certainty can bring? The second man has built his trust on the character of
a trustworthy spouse. It has been worked out through experience. He feels no
compulsion to be eternally suspicious. He knows her, therefore, he can trust
her. And this knowledge is what allows the relationship to continue to grow.
"My hope is in thee," echoes the Psalmist. Here, there is no need for
props, for scaffolding and the like to bolster his certitude. His certitude is
far from being empirically confident, it becomes belief against belief.
[1]
The cognitive approach of traditional orthodoxy concerned itself with the
isolating of propositional truths or eternal entities which by definition
showed no degree of variation. The church or group who could claim that their
religion was the most orthodox and perhaps unsurpassable needed then to prove
that it consisted of more significant veridical truth claims than anybody else.
See George Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and Theology in a
Postliberal Age (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1984), pp. 47-52.
[2]
See Darrell Jodock for an informative analysis on the repercussions of
modernity on the authority of the Bible. The Church's Bible: Its Contemporary
Authority (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), pp. 167.
[3]
Ibid, pp. 15-67.
[4]
Hans Kung has an insightful discussion of these trends in his book: Does God
Exist? An Answer for Today (New York: Doubleday, 1980).
[5]
Jodock describes this loss as the absence of any effective loyalty to something
or someone beyond oneself, beyond one's nation, party, vocation, or ideology.
The Church's Bible, p. 77.
[6]
Robert Bellah et al., Habits of the Heart: Individualism and Commitment in
American Life (New York: Harper and Row, 1985), p. 75.
[7]
In its most generic sense, relativism is the view that beliefs and principles,
particularly evaluative ones, have no universal or timeless validity but are
valid only for the age in which, or the social group or individual person by
which, they are held. Wm. Larkin Jr., Culture and Biblical Hermeneutics (Grand
Rapids: Baker Book House, 1988), pp. 18, 19.
[8]
Charles Davis, Temptations of Religion (New York: Harper and Row Pub., 1973),
p. 2.
[9]
Because of the debate surrounding the meaning of "evangelical," I
have opted for the expression "conservative Protestants," to define
those groups who would underscore the normative authority of the Scriptures as
Divine Revelation over any other competing expressions. This group,
tradition-ally, includes fundamentalists, Pentecostals and evangelicals.
[10]
Clark Pinnock, Tracking the Maze: Finding Our Way Through Modern Theology from
an Evangelical Perspective (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1990), p. 33.
[11]
Jack Rogers claims that the pernickety adherence to an inerrant Bible, held by
many conservative, evangelical groups is a relatively modern occurrence, dating
primarily from the so-called Princeton School of Theology associated with
Charles Hodge, A.A. Hodge and Benjamin Warfield. Rogers presents the case that
reformers such as Luther found the authority of scripture in its content, the
message of Christ and his salvation. The Bible was infallible in the sense that
it did what it was intended to do, namely proclaim the message of salvation
which the Father had wrought in His Son Jesus Christ. Jack Rogers and Donald K.
McKim, The Authority and Interpretation of the Bible an historical approach
(San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1979), p. 87.
[12]
Within North American evangelical circles the debate over the authority of the
Bible intensified in 1976, with the publication of Harold Lindsell's book, The
Battle for the Bible. Lindsell stirred a theological hornet's nest, when he
made the doctrine of unlimited inerrance the watershed qualifier for
evangelical Christianity. His challenge was swiftly countered by Fuller
Theological Seminary, the bastion of evangelical theology in this century. The
seminary was then in turn, countered by the newly formed organization of the
International Council of Biblical Inerrancy in 1979. For a summary of the
ensuing storm from Lindsell's perspective see, The Bible in Balance (Grand
Rapids: Zondervan, 1979).
[13]
Statement of Fundamental and Essential Truths, p. 2. In an insightful article,
A/G theologian Russell Spittler suggests that were he to write his own doctrine
of scripture he would emphasize the quality of potency, effectuality and the
sufficiency of Scriptures. "Scripture and the Theological Enterprise: View
from a Big Canoe," The Use of the Bible in Theology: Evangelical Options,
R.K. Johnston ed. (Atlanta: Knox Press, 1985).
[14]
Accordingly the Holy Spirit is relegated primarily to the role of empowering to
witness and growing spiritually. (Statement of Essential and Fundamental
Truths, sec. VI, no. 6). Concerning the interpretation of Scriptures, believers
are said to receive the somewhat amorphous designation of "spiritual
illumination" to enable them to understand the Scripture. Conspicuous by
its absence is any mention of the infallibility of Word and Spirit, one of the
salient themes of the Reformation.
[15]
Gerald Sheppard, "Word and Spirit: Scripture in the Pentecostal Tradition,
Part 1," Agora (vol. 1 no. 4, Spring 1978), p. 5.
[16]
Gerald Sheppard, "Word and Spirit: Scripture in the Pentecostal Tradition,
Part 2," Agora (vol. 2 no. 1), pp. 14, 15.
[17]
Typical of the traditional approach in defending the accuracy of the Bible
against modern historical criticism was the oft cited Bible Numerics of
converted Russian, Ivan Panin. Panin is said to have vindicated the Bible from
the assaults of modernism by discovering a mathematically uniform design
inherent within the Bible from Genesis to Revelation. See Beatrice Sims,
"The Scientific Proof of the Inspiration of the Scriptures," PT
(August 1, 1947).
[18]
The typical argument being: how else could we adjudicate between truth and
falsehood?
[19]
By this, I am not advocating an "errant" Bible. I am merely
suggesting that by adhering strictly to the logic inherent within most
discussions concerning unlimited inerrancy, we inadvertently undermine the
authority of the Bible sitting on our shelves, which has been subjected, among
other things, to the less than perfect science of interpretation. If we are
really concerned with the integrity of Scripture, we must guard against the
politics of rhetoric that would straightjacket God's Word into our inflexible
categories.
[20]
George Marsden, Reforming Fundamentalism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), p.
291.
[21]
Richard Niebuhr, Faith on Earth: An Inquiry into the Structure of Human Faith
(New Haven, Yale University Press, 1989), p. 38.
[22]
Peter Berger. Rumor of Angels: Modern Society and the Rediscovery of the
Supernatural (New York: Doubleday and Company Inc., 1969), pp. 8, 9.
[23]
It was William James' thesis that the truth of an idea is not a stagnant
property inherent in it. Truth happens to an idea. It becomes true, is made
true by events. Its verity is in fact an event, a process: the process namely
of its verifying itself, its verification. Its validity is the process of its
validation. Here is some interesting ground for explaining the doctrine of
initial evidence. Pragmatism: A New Name for Some Old Ways of Thinking
(Cambridge, Massachusetts, Harvard University Press, 1978), pp. 95-113.
[24]
Peter Berger, Rumor of Angels, p. 45.
[25]
I would interject that the Scripture, as a mediating symbol, enjoys an ultimate
status by virtue of its relation to the living Word, Jesus Christ. Though there
may be other penultimate symbols (ie. prayer, church, et al.) capable of
mediating the Christian Faith, the Scriptures stand out as the normative,
regulative, expression of God's Revelation.
[26]
Despite its awkward wording, I believe the preamble to the original statement
of fundamental truths approved in 1928 by the PAOC reflects this analysis. It
stated, "The human phraseology employed in this statement is not inspired
nor contended for, but the truth set forth is held to be essential to a Full
Gospel ministry. No claim is made that it contains all the truth of the Bible,
only that it covers our present needs as to these fundamental matters."
[27]
Charles Davis, Temptations of Religion, pp. 22-24.
[28]
I have personalized an analogy given by Darrell Jodock, The Church's Bible, pp.
90-92.
[29]
As with all analogies, there is some risk involved in the crossover if taken
too literally. For example, while my father has changed substantively over the
years, it would be improper to characterize God as changing in the same way.
Nonetheless, any reading of Scripture would demonstrate that God has modified
his response both corporately and individually to his people through the years.
[30]
Darrell Jodock, The Church's Bible, pp. 93-95.
[31]
Richard Niebuhr as quoted by Dennis Campbell. Authority and the Renewal of
American Theology (Philadelphia: United Church Press, 1976), p. 84.
[32]
Martin Marty, A Cry of Absence: Reflection for the Winter of the Heart (San
Francisco, Harper and Row Pub., 1983), pp. 50, 51.
