I
“One early evening in winter I was walking alone through the woods toward a town which I could already see and where I wanted to find lodging. Suddenly a big wolf came upon me and jumped at me. I had the woolen prayer rope which had belonged to my late starets in my hands, and in my attempt to defend myself with it the prayer rope slipped out of my hands and lodged around the neck of the wolf. The wolf jumped away from and got caught in a thorny bush with his hind legs and with the prayer rope on a branch of a dry tree. He tried desperately to free himself but was unable to because the prayer rope was choking him. With faith I blessed myself and went to free the wolf and especially to get my precious prayer rope, for I feared that the wolf would run away with it. And, sure enough, the moment I approached the wolf and touched the prayer rope, he broke it and ran away without leaving a trace. I thanked God for His help in retrieving my prayer rope and remembered my late starets. Then I happily reached the town and stopped at an inn to ask for lodging…
The clerk [of the inn] looked at me and asked, “Were you making prostrations so earnestly that you even broke your prayer rope?”
“No, it was not I who broke it; it was a wolf,” I said.
“Really? Do wolves pray?” asked the clerk.”
From The Way of a Pilgrim, trans. Helen Bacovcin
II
The famous Russian hermit and starets St. Seraphim of Sarov was one day visited at his hovel in the woods by an enormous bear. As his daily rations had recently arrived, the holy man, who was known to be a fastidious observer Christian hospitality, offered half of his food to his guest, . The next day the bear returned and St. Seraphim again shared his food. This happened throughout the winter and on into the spring. The bear prefered to eat at the saint’s table rather than hibernate. Soon, it was time for Great Lent. At that time, it was customary for the monk’s rations to be cut in half for those 40 days of fasting and repentance. So, when the bear continued to visit, St. Seraphim began giving the bear all of his rations, leaving nothing for himself. One day while this was going on, the Abbot visited St. Seraphim, and was astonished and frightened to discover a bear being fed and gently spoken to by the venerable old monk. When St. Seraphim explained that he had been giving his Lenten rations to the bear all along the Abbot got angry.
“You ought not to be doing this, and during Lent of all times!” he chided.
To which St. Seraphim replied, “But, Abbot, the poor bear does not know that it is Lent.”
What is your favorite story involving saints and animals?
David Bentley Hart: An Orthodox Easter
March 30, 2010
This also included some observations on Holy Week so I thought I might risk talking about Easter before Holy Week has come to a finale. HT: Wall Street Journal
An Orthodox Easter
Expressive extravagance, dramaturgical splendor.
By DAVID B. HART
Friday, A
pril 9, 2004 12:01 A.M. EDT
This is one of those rare years when Christians of the Eastern and Western communions will celebrate Easter on the same Sunday. For those of us who–in quixotic moments–blow upon the gray embers of our hopes for a reunited Church, this is always an especially happy occasion. We may not all be entering into the mysteries of Christ’s death and resurrection as one, but at least this year we are doing it at the same time.
After all, one of those tiresome platitudes that hovers over the division between the ancient churches is that, whereas Eastern Orthodox tradition principally emphasizes the resurrection of Christ, Catholic (and Protestant) tradition principally emphasizes his death. The one, it is said, proclaims more a “theology of glory”; the other, more a “theology of the cross.”
There may be some truth in this, but not much. The more deeply one ventures into either tradition, the more one grasps the inseparability in both of Christ’s passion and glorification, his sacrifice and his victory. And it is in just these rare years when our two Paschal calendars coincide–when we mourn and rejoice together–that this commonality seems especially evident.
One genuinely pronounced difference between East and West does, however, become obvious at these times: that of liturgical sensibility. Nor is this insignificant. How we worship very much determines how we “see” the suffering or risen Christ in our devotions.
To those unfamiliar with Orthodox worship, it is difficult to convey a proper sense of its sheer expressive extravagance–its dramaturgical splendor, its combination of the mystical and the spectacular, its profusion of symbols, poetry and large forceful gestures. The churches are lavishly adorned with icons, the entire liturgy is sung, the services are long and intricate, and everything (if well executed) is utterly absorbing.
And during Holy Week (or Passion Week, as it is called in the East), all this liturgical exorbitance reaches its climax. As the week progresses, worship becomes all but continuous, morning and evening, culminating in three magnificent services in which is concentrated all the dramatic genius of Byzantine liturgy.
On Friday night, the service of Lamentation is celebrated. An image of the dead Christ is laid in his funeral bier (ornately carved, copiously decorated with flowers), and shatteringly powerful hymns of mourning are sung over him. The bier is then borne in procession around the outside of the church; briefly, the church doors become the gates of Hades, upon which the priest beats with the book of the Gospels to announce the arrival of the Lord of Glory, who comes to plunder death of its captives.
The eucharistic liturgy on Saturday morning is an unapologetic exercise in triumphalism. Its governing theme is Christ’s conquest of death, sin and the devil, and his harrowing of hell. At one point, in fact, the priest passes through the congregation flinging bay leaves to every side as a symbol of Christ’s victory.
And this same triumphalism pervades the Easter Vigil that begins that same night and continues on well into the early hours of Easter morning. At the moment of highest drama, at midnight, all the lights in the church are extinguished, and the faithful wait in total darkness. The priest then bears a lighted candle in through the central door of the great icon screen behind which the altar is hidden, as a symbol of the risen Christ departing from his tomb, and summons the congregation to light the candles they have brought with them from this flame.
Thereafter, the liturgy is all light and joy, punctuated by frequent repetitions of the great Paschal hymn–”Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and to those in the tombs restoring life!” And (incredibly enough) a feast follows.
As I have said, one must experience such worship to understand its profundity. I can say only that, in my two decades of being Orthodox, the power of these services has not diminished in the least; and every year, at one point or another, I become entirely lost in the glory of the Gospel being announced and portrayed before my eyes.
And as, again, this is one of those years when one can almost deceive oneself that the churches are united, I might finish by recommending an Eastern custom to all Christians, of every communion. For 40 days following Easter, the Orthodox greet one another with the words “Christ is risen!” To which the correct response is “He is risen indeed!”
Complex Kiev
January 11, 2010
My dad directed me towards a wonderful article about Kiev in the St. Paul Pioneer Press this morning. I was there in 2006 and this article really made me miss one of my favorite cities in Europe. Here’s a link to my old travel blog where I wrote about the experience. (Bear with it. That was the first time I ever experimented with one of these crazy ‘blog’ things).
Instruments in Worship?
July 20, 2009
One of my favorite bloggers is an Eastern Orthodox priest in Cuba. OrthoCuban spent some time as an Anglican missionary but eventually made his way into the Eastern tradition. This previous experience, including his “western” and “protestant” theological education makes for his presentations of Orthodoxy to be intelligible to Evangelical ears.
He recently wrote a multi-part series( 1, 2, 3, 4, 5) on why the Orthodox do not use instruments in worship. I have to admit to sneaking away to Eastern churches when I get a chance. The Divine Liturgy truly does provoke one to awe and gratitude to the Creator (does anyone know of a parish that does a Rite I sung Eucharist? I’d like to come visit). Which is why my own response should be seen as deeply sympathetic to what Tradition has wrought in the East.
Despite this sympathy, I found myself disagreeing with the theological justifications provided for the ‘superiority’ of instrument’less worship. Of course Fr. Ernesto never uses this phrase, but it could possibly be implied by the fact – which demonstrates his theological integrity I think – that he never says instruments should be banned; just that acapella worship is more ancient (which in Eastern Orthodox terms means better 
) and should therefore be preferred.
Questions on the Early Church
Fr. Ernesto points to some of the Church Fathers to make his point. Though certainly the Fathers travel along a trajectory, they are not monolithic. Several of the quotes, both in the Early Church and in the Reformers make what seems to me to be an important reason why they do not use instruments in worship. A reason that does not, it seems to me, remain morally relevant in most contexts of which we here blogging might be a part of. The bolded sections are my own highlights.
“ST. THOMAS AQUINAS: “Our church does not use musical instruments, as harps and psalteries, to praise God withal, that she may not seem to Judaize.” (Thomas Aquinas, Bingham’s Antiquities, Vol. 3, page 137)” – I know, he’s not an early Father but he is used as an example
ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO: “Musical instruments were not used. The pipe, tabret, and harp here associate so intimately with the sensual heathen cults, as well as with the wild revelries and shameless performances of the degenerate theater and circus, it is easy to understand the prejudices against their use in the worship.” (Augustine 354 A.D., describing the singing at Alexandria under Athanasius, yes THAT Athanasius.)
JEAN CAUVIN (JOHN CALVIN): “Musical instruments in celebrating the praises of God would be no more suitable than the burning of incense, the lighting of lamps, the restoration of other shadows of the law.”
CLEMENT “Leave the pipe to the shepherd, the flute to the men who are in fear of gods and intent on their idol worshipping
And the list could go on. But here we see that for them, musical instruments were associated with Judaism and the idol worship of the pagan temples. We no longer directly associate the use of instruments with either of these, neither do we associate them with immorality. Then, could we perhaps rightfully ask whether or not this interpretive paradigm need hold to infinity?
* * * *
There is another reason often used in some Fathers, and is used several times throughout Fr. Ernesto’s posts, both by himself and by a guest contributer in the 5th post, which it seems to me is an improper dichotimization between the “spiritual” and the “worldly” or the “flesh” or the “man-made’edness” of instruments.
The writers I am going to point to are not speaking about ‘musical instruments’ at all. But they are very concerned with how our contingent and even ‘fleshly’ world and history are the necessary grounds for growth and sanctification; made so by the Incarnation of Jesus.
I am not going to pretend to reconcile the two emphasis’. In fact I think that the two strains have been obvious in Christian tradition from very early and it persists to the present day. I’m not going to pit “biblical” spirituality vs “platonic” spirituality. I want the Catholic tradition, and so I choose not to choose…
“Flesh” vs “Spirit” – the false dichotomy
The arguments I have often heard for “Gregorian” vs “Folk,” “Instruments” vs “Not,” “Contemporary” vs “Traditional Hymns” etc… to infinity, is that one “feeds the spirit/soul” and one is “fleshly,” such as dancing (except in those cultures where it’s not) or drums/guitar/organ/piano/etc…
We see have seen this in many comments from our faithful Roman Catholic commentator Quickbeamoffangorn to some of the Church Fathers:
CHRYSOSTOM “David formerly sang songs, also today we sing hymns. He had a lyre with lifeless strings, the church has a lyre with living strings. Our tongues are the strings of the lyre with a different tone indeed but much more in accordance with piety. Here there is no need for the cithara, or for stretched strings, or for the plectrum, or for art, or for any instrument; but, if you like, you may yourself become a cithara, mortifying the members of the flesh and making a full harmony of mind and body. For when the flesh no longer lusts against the Spirit, but has submitted to its orders and has been led at length into the best and most admirable path, then will you create a spiritual melody.” (Chrysostom, 347-407, Exposition of Psalms 41, (381-398 A.D.) Source Readings in Music History, ed. O. Strunk, W. W. Norton and Co.: New York, 1950, pg. 70.) – certainly one of my favorite Fathers
CLEMENT “Leave the pipe to the shepherd, the flute to the men who are in fear of gods and intent on their idol worshipping. Such musical instruments must be excluded from our wingless feasts, for they arc more suited for beasts and for the class of men that is least capable of reason than for men. The Spirit, to purify the divine liturgy from any such unrestrained revelry chants: ‘Praise Him with sound of trumpet,” for, in fact, at the sound of the trumpet the dead will rise again (ah, St. Clement’s famous allegorical interpretations used to get around the inconvenience of texts he didn’t like)…
The general thrust is that it is the “soul/spirit” that is toward God and the “flesh/physical” that needs to be suppressed in order to become more sanctified or whatever.
This could be a result of “platonic” influence, it could be a misunderstanding of St. Paul’s use of “spirit” and “flesh;” whatever it is I think that two core Christian doctrines in particular contradict drawing the hard and fast line between the two. Let us examine (briefly) these two doctrines, especially in light of two particular Church fathers. I believe that by looking at them, and looking at “spirituality” in light of them, may overcome this problem.
In St. Irenaeus and St. Ignatius, we get a different sort of theological anthropology. St. Irenaeus in particular I think, because of the nature of his works, lays out a Scriptural story that is among the greatest of all the Fathers. In their works, both in the picture (quite Pauline) in Ignatius of Christ’s work being perfected in his suffering and martyrdom, and of the physicality and historical contingency of the Incarnation in Irenaeus against early ‘gnosticism,’ we see how in fact, salvation is not the imparting of ‘spiritual’ information, nor of the taking up of our ‘soul’ to ‘heaven;’ but spiritual growth and sanctification, even ‘salvation,’ is given shape by the humanity of Christ, both in the union of God with Humanity (Irenaeus) and the physical sufferings of Christ (Ignatius). No body/soul, physical/spiritual dichotomy here.
Besides the Incarnation, we mights also point to the Resurrection. Jesus is not raised a spirit/soul, gladly rid of his ‘flesh;’ instead Christ is raised, bodily and transformed, ‘physical’ enough that his wounds are still visible and he is able to eat. The picture in the NT is that of New Creation. What God had made good, and which had been distorted, will be remade, his ‘realm’ and our ‘world’ will be united, and the picture of salvation as such is one of incorruptible physicality. In Eastern language, even Theosis will involve the physical.
Indeed, I hope I’m not the only one to see the deep irony of an Eastern Orthodox Christian protesting the use of “man made” items to enrich/enhance worship. The same people, after all, who are absolutely passionate about Icons for prayer and worship!
I hope I might be forgiven for appearing to go off the topic of music for a moment. But I think it is important because of the emphasis in the posts, that “man made” instruments somehow make for less “spiritual” worship. Because, of course songs are “man made.” We create songs by verse and music, a skill or craft. Perhaps, if songs are “man made” we should do away with them as well and focus on the “spiritual.” Where does the line fall and who says where the line is?
Voice as “Catholic” Instrument
In the fifth post, Mr. Nathan Speir says this:
“3) The voice is a Catholic instrument. Their is no other man-made instrument that maintains a historical or cultural universality as the voice. Really, the creation of other man made instruments has many diverse mythologies, histories, and applications. Choosing additional instruments for the Church simply interrupts the Catholicity of the Church.”
I wanted to touch on this as a last point. To what extent should “Catholicity” be pushed to mean “uniformity?” Catholicity has much more to do with being united to Christ, and perhaps united to the Bishop, perhaps being united by common worship (though there are “Western Rite” Eastern Orthodox, etc…), but united by the use of the same instruments? I would need to see that more clearly in Scripture and Tradition before I conceded to what seems to me to be an arbitrary line. I mean no offense by that, but this is the same line of thinking that “Latin only” Roman Catholics use and it is one I have never felt squared with the reality of natural and unpurposeful diversity in the Christian body.
I wonder why stop there? Why not use the same melodies? Melodies are just as “historical” and “cultural” as an instrument inasmuch as they are constructed or “man made.”
* * * *
If then, the Church Fathers had various reasons for not endorsing instruments in worship, and if an instrument being “man made” is no obstacle to theosis (or “spirituality” or whatever), and if Catholicity is more about Christ than it is about arbitrary lines of uniformity; then I wonder if perhaps one “doth protest too much” about instruments.
Peace Father Ernesto.
Flux II: Why Old Stuff Matters
May 29, 2009
“Flux” is a continuing series on my year visiting churches of various Christian traditions.
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I first experienced Eastern Orthodoxy as a 21-year-old traveling through Ukraine. Even then, the tradition enchanted me. At the time I was interning with a missions organization working in Eastern Europe. I knew that many of the churches we were helping to plant were located in heavily Eastern Orthodox or Roman Catholic areas. It was also become increasingly clear that these traditions were undoubtedly Christian, perhaps in some ways even more Christian than me. So why are we evangelizing Christians? I wondered.
It was the opening spark of a lesson that took me a few years to learn: old stuff matters.
By “old stuff,” I mean the bulk of the ancient practices and symbols many modern Evangelicals (both intentionally and unintentionally) learned to de-emphasize or ignore. In my studies, I realized there were a number of questions I’d never fully explored: where did the Bible come from? who first outlined concepts like the dual-natures of Christ and the Trinity? what is our modern conception of hell based on? Many of the answers to these questions were found in studying the first few centuries of Christianity, an area of scholarship sometimes called Patristics or a little more broadly, Christian Origins.
I learned that whether one recited the creeds in church or not, they were formative and part of our shared Christian heritage. Whether one appreciated liturgy or found it dull, it was influential in shaping modern forms of worship. I learned that Sacramental theology left a precedent for how we expected to experience God–even if one didn’t look for Him in Eucharist anymore. Most importantly I learned that issues like church governance, division, authority, human sexuality and the role of the Church in the world were problems as old as Pentecost.
Perhaps most poignantly, however, I was struck by how bewitching the tradional forms of worship could be. The ancient liturgies enchanted me, the Icons arrested me–I felt myself being pulled into something older and bigger and altogether more enveloping than my previous, more individualistic Church experiences had been. All my life, I had endeavored to maintain the right belief or “Apostolicity*” of my faith. But it wasn’t until my year of visiting Churches, that I was first introduced to its commanility or “Catholicity**.”
* (Apostolicity in this case, just means the faith of Apostles, or what was handed down to us.)
** (Catholic not in the Roman sense, but in it’s older meaning of ‘universal’ or ‘entirety).
Authority Again
January 7, 2009
Pastor Bob Cornwall recently gave us three excellent posts reflecting on Phyllis Tickle’s latest book “The Great Emergence.” They reflect primarily on the issue of (Protestant) Christian “authority” with special reference to homosexuality. They predict that the Protestant idea of sola scriptura is coming to a close. I posted a while back on this and concluded that sola scriptura is unable to accommodate the canonizing process.
To say the Bible is authoritative is to say that the compositional history and canonizing process is authoritative, which is to debunk sola scriptura.
Pastor Cornwall has hopes in the infamous “Wesleyan Quadrilateral.” Whatever the historical origin of this system – the convergence of Scripture, Tradition, Reason and Experience – he feels that this system can be a methodology for arriving at doctrines or ethics which takes the whole of our reality into account and allows for the proper critique of our various interpretations.
I feel the timing of this is great for our site as the four of us only just took a break from this discussion but we had spent a fair amount of time (read chronologically!) going over this very issue. I am going to throw a few more posts out on this as the topic is garnering a bit of a buzz.
I would like to reassert what I have already said, that Authority as such, is actually a secondary issue to a larger question. Ecclesiology. Who’s in and who’s out of your/the church? (Tony Jones has just asked this very question) The reason that I believe this is a primary issue is because, if Bobs denomination The Disciples, were to vote on an issue, be it homosexuality, or Womens Ordination or the whatever; my bishop would have no say in this discernment. So his reason and experience do not play any part in The Disciples doctrinal decisions.
Bob himself notes that this is the eternal problem…Whose Reason and whose Experience? A Methodist commenter, Allen Bevere, also reminds us that “Reason” and “Experience” as distinct and wholly separable ideas simply fall apart under advances in epistemology. The idea of pure “Reason” is no longer a tenable understanding of the phenomenon of knowing. Thomas Kuhn also has derailed the myth of continuous progress in knowledge, going so far as to imply that we are unable to grasp reality ontologically because we only perceive external stimuli through our operating paradigms, or worldviews.
24,000 Protestant denominations bear witness to what happens when the privilage of individual interpretation without an interpretive magisterium is taken to its only conclusion. A Roman Catholic who was once talking with Tony Jones said in frustration, “You Protestants, you’re children of divorce, and as such, you’ll just keep divorcing.” I essentially agree with this statement. Not that I am one who has chosen divorce, having been raised a Protestant, but there is no Quadrilateral which will save us from divorcing when the issue gets hot enough. Look at how the Mainline is going down over homosexuality. Even some Anglo-Catholics, of all Protestants the ones who should be immune to such actions, are leaving North American Episcopalian churches in droves, heading off to the RCC, EO, or even attempting to start a new Province.
I for my part, think that a process of ecclesiastical centralization (not neccessarily doctrinal!)(this is what ecumenism is about right?!) is what could potentially save us from the future ensuing chaos. Though for a long time I have purposely identified with the so called “Emergent/ing (an ever increasingly intolerable descriptor) Church movement/conversation/yadayadayada, I fundamentally disagree with the seeming joy many voices get from predicting the demise of denominationalism. The organization of Christians allows for the protection of our Tradition from novel interpretation and provides a focus for discipline, encouragement and mission. That is not to say that “doctrines” are fixed, but that it should be a significant and difficult thing to do to alter doctrine; and in a free-church system, everybody gets to say whatever they want and others get no say in it.
It is precisely in a purposeful fellowship that diversity comes to find its good soil. Diversity in a free-church system is chaos, but diversity in a denomination is such that in Christian charity it can be wide, but it can also allow for boundries to be set as to how far diversity can go before it becomes an impediment to Christian witness.
This is essentially how it is in the great Catholic traditions. There is in fact quite a diversity within Catholicism, but unity is maintained through the Episcopacy. Though it is quite likely impossible, I for one feel that it is though a strong Church system that the diversity which is inevitable in interpretation can find roots which force us to be confronted with the “other” in interpretation. This idea is intolerable to us who have become accustomed to “freedom and democracy,” to “choice and conscience.” Authority is scorned in our society in no small part because of the Reformation.
To conclude todays post I would like to leave you with this. In his famous book “Orthodoxy,” G. K. Chesterton says something that I have pondered over much in the aftermath of my decision to leave the Assemblies of God and join The Episcopal Church. Perhaps they are words worth some reflection. Indeed, those too willing to “reform” might find some tempered thoughts in this gem of a book.
‘Catholic doctrine and discipline may be walls, but they are the walls of a playground. .. We might fancy some children playing on the flat grassy top of some tall island in the sea. So long as there was a wall round the cliff’s edge they could fling themselves into every frantic game and make the place the noisiest of nurseries. But the walls were knocked down, leaving the naked peril of the precipice. They did not fall over; but when their friends returned to them they were all huddled in terror in the centre of the island; and their song had ceased.’
Authority Dilemma III: Tradition
October 5, 2008
NOTE: This post is part of a larger series discussing Ecclesial Authority
Part I: Introduction
Part II: Scripture
Part III: Tradition
Part IV: History/Reason
Part V: Personal and Communal Experience
Part VI: Authority Revisited (UNFINISHED)
II. Sacred/Holy Tradition as Chief Authority
Faith Traditions: Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Some Anglicans
Argument: “Sacred Tradition.” What Christ started, the Apostles and those in their subsequent succession finished. This Alternative is dependent on the idea that Truth began with Christ and is being revealed through the Authority of Apostolic Succession. While Roman and Eastern Christians disagree on just where that Succession is today, their allegiance to it through faithful obedience to centuries of Christian leaders is the same.
Nice Quote: “…the task of authentically interpreting the word of God, whether written or handed on, has been entrusted exclusively to the living teaching office of the Church, whose authority is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ. This teaching office is not above the word of God, but serves it, teaching only what has been handed on, listening to it devoutly, guarding it scrupulously and explaining it faithfully in accord with a divine commission and with the help of the Holy Spirit, it draws from this one deposit of faith everything which it presents for belief as divinely revealed.” -Second Vatican Council Dei Verbum
Pros:
1. Concept (real or imagined) of the firm existence of Empirical Truth: Here we find the same idea as what Alternative I offered. Except instead of an ancient book, we have “that guy.” Be it the Pope, or an Ecumenical Council, the Traditionalist can point to something and say, “that’s the way it is, period.”
2. Little Room for Subjectivity = Amazing Unity Until you’ve participated in an Orthodox (or Catholic) liturgy (mass) and had the realization you are practicing a faith that millions of Christians world wide are also experiencing—that you are not only connecting to other living Christians, but dead Christians from hundreds of years ago. The simple fact that I might have very little in common with a Lebanese working class mother on the other side of the world, but that we none-the-less belong to each other because we both belong to Christ is a powerful and spiritual experience that I don’t have the means to explain here.
3. Connection to the Ancient Church Even a casual reading through the Apostolic Fathers will reveal a heavy emphasis on one thing: unity no matter what. Ignatius wrote a number of letters on his trip to Rome to be martyred and in each epistle he repeatedly emphasized the necessity of sticking to your Bishop. It was through that Bishop that the church could exist, through that Bishop that ordinary people experienced the Eucharist that brought them into communion with God. Traditionalists carry a strong connection to this ancient Church that no other Alternative can muster.
4. A Claim to Orthodoxy It’s from tradition (not the Bible) that we get so many tenets of what is considered “orthodox Christianity” today. The Trinity, the dual-nature of Christ, the second-coming, original sin, heaven and hell, etc… the Bible has very little to say about these things specifically. It was from the teachings of the early Church fathers (along with their particular interpretations of the ancient texts that make up the Bible) that the Ecumenical Councils decided on these things.
Cons:
1. Potential for Misuse of Power: While a leader in any of the Alternatives I’ve listed here are liable to misuse their power, Tradition is at the greatest risk. The darkest parts of human history started when a few men were given innumerable power without any accountability. I should mention that both Romans and Eastern Christians have learned from historical mistakes but I don’t think the opportunity for misuse on a smaller scale is out of the question now or in the future.
2. “Adding to the faith”: This is really an extension of Con #1, but inevitably, as Christian tradition developed, it began to take on the cultural baggage of its times. Many would criticize the Catholics for things like Indulgences, Purgatory, the Assumption of Mary, etc… but I believe every Christian tradition has its own special additions that were relevant for a certain time but are now bothersome trip ups for their adherents today. (The Assemblies of God is less than a century old and already the doctrine of “Initial Physical Evidence” threatens to split their movement in the USA.)
Ultimately, everyone chooses a point in historical tradition to adhere to. The Eastern Christians stop after the seventh Ecumenical Council, the Romans stop with the Pope, the Reformed stop at the Reformation, the Pentecostals stop with Azusa etc…
3. Exclusivism While any Alternative is by definition exclusive (even liberal, so-called “inclusive” movements have no place for conservatives in their folds) the Sacred Tradition Alternative is perhaps the most limiting. In order to participate in Eucharist (and thus be considered part of the church) one must be in full agreement with the tenets of tradition. There is no “invisible church” that spans movements and congregations. There are no such things as “branches,” regrettably in schism but each with their own particular contribution to make.
Tony Hunt
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Shawn Wamsley
