Monthly Archives: August 2006

Capturing and Caging Traditions

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Many corners of the twenty-first century church are drawing on traditional modes of worship, including the use of incense, candles, sacraments, images, creeds, and liturgical prayers. In this respect they’ve sometimes been accused of a “return to Catholicism.” But for most, they have simply gotten fed up with the overly-intellectual worship of evangelicalism. To some believers of my generation, the rigid propositional truths and daunting dogmatism seem to have suppressed authentic spirituality, a vibrant relationship with God, and dynamic, loving relationships with other believers. So, they want a genuine Christian faith free from an oppressive Tradition, but incorporating a variety of “traditions.” This means drawing on non-propositional narratives and symbols that often have an ancient pedigree.

But this is extremely difficult to do well. And to date, I’ve not seen it rise above the level of mediocre.

I find the buffet-style traditionalism characteristic of many new churches to be a little, well, silly . . . or at least juvenile. I have nothing against incense and candles. But picking and choosing which “traditions” from two thousand years of church history to use in today’s worship seems a little ridiculous if we detach them from the history, culture, and theology in which they originally developed. Some things just don’t fit. If I bought a high-end piece of antique furniture from an estate sale and placed it in my living room, it would look silly. In the same way, I’ve seen evangelicals try to incorporate ancient rites and rituals into their worship in ways that make me cringe.

Labyrinths, prayers of the saints, stations of the cross, and other practices associated with Roman Catholicism or eastern catholic mysticism enjoy a new audience among some Christians seeking a different type of spiritual devotion—a deep, authentic, meaningful Christian experience. But I see very little sense of theological coherence, a clear notion of what is central, how these things fit together, the stories they try to tell. Let’s set aside the whole question of epistemology and propositional truth for a moment. When Christians try to weave together premodern practices like these, they often apply very modernistic anthropocentric criteria of individual preference. However, the new drive for community authenticity is not much different than the by-gone quest for personal certainty: in the end my personal reason or emotions reign.

The result of harvesting “traditions” from church history is not much more appealing to me than the old-style zoo that zoological societies have tried to replace over the last several decades. Remember when we used to rip God’s creatures from their natural habitats and cram them into rows and rows of jail cells for spectators to “enjoy.” In many ways today’s rip-off of ancient traditions is worse. Some have gone on a “Bring ’Em Back Alive” safari, snared a handful of appealing practices from the jungles of church history, killed them, and now display them in their two-year-old churches like disparate plush toys spread over a toddler’s bed.

I like tradition. I like it a lot.

But I don’t like watching people mishandle it.

Please stop.

Limited Atonement, 1 John 2:2, and Polycarp

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There are a number of passages in the New Testament to which four-point Calvinists refer in debates against those who hold to the doctrine of “limited” or “particular” atonement (e.g., 2 Peter 2:1; 1 John 2:2; 1 Timothy 2:4–6; 4:10; Hebrews 2:9; and Acts 17:30). Indeed, the arguments on either side of the exegesis are not air tight. One of the most difficult passages for those who hold to limited atonement is 1 John 2:2, which says, “He Himself is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also of the whole world.” The phrase “the whole world” later in 1 John 5:19 seems to refer to all people without exception—especially unbelievers. At the level of pure exegetical considerations—isolated and insulated from its historical and theological context—the passage seems, as Ryrie says, “to say rather clearly that the death of Christ was for the whole world” (Ryrie, Basic Theology, 321).

However, if we open our interpretation of 1 John 2:2 to the insights of the historical and theological context, the picture becomes, well, less clear than critics of limited atonement may think. The Martyrdom of Polycarp was written around AD 155 by Christians in Smyrna shortly after their bishop, Polycarp, was martyred in the stadium there. Polycarp, recall, was a personal disciple of the apostle John, and was—according to reliable tradition—one of many Asian pastors who had been ordained into pastoral ministry by John while he lived in Ephesus. In fact, if the “angels” of Revelation 2 and 3 refer to the pastors (or bishops) of those churches, as some commentators say, Polycarp may have been the “angel” of the church of Smyrna. Anyway, Polycarp is also one of the earliest witnesses we have of 1 John, as he seems to rely on 1 John 3:8 and 4:2–3 in his Letter to the Philippians 7. In short, Polycarp knew John’s writings and probably knew John himself.

With this historical background in mind, the statement of the Smyrnaeans in Martyrdom of Polycarp 17.2 is rather interesting as we consider the issue of 1 John 2:2 and debates between those who hold to limited atonement and those who do not. The Smyrnaeans wrote: “They [the pagans] did not know that we [Christians] will never be able either to abandon the Christ who suffered for the salvation of the whole world of those who are saved, the blameless on behalf of sinners, or to worship anyone else.”

So, the Smyrnaeans refer to the “whole world” with the exact language as the apostle John in reference not to all people everywhere, but to the world of the saved. That is to say, Christ is savior of the “catholic” church. He not only died for the sins of their own community in Asia Minor (as local deities or gods might be the “savior” of that particular community), but also for the sins of the whole world (as the universal savior of all believers throughout the world).

This passage in Martyrdom of Polycarp may amount to an indirect commentary or interpretation of 1 John 2:2. In fact, it could very well reflect the apostle John’s intended meaning of that passage. If the Smyrnaean authors of Martyrdom were reflecting Polycarp’s understanding of 1 John 2:2 (which to me is almost certain), Polycarp may have been relaying John’s original understanding of that phrase (which is possible), since Polycarp knew John.

A good friend of mine has pointed out that John Owen refers to this statement by the Smyrnaeans as patristic testimony for limited atonement in his Death of Death (Banner of Truth edition, page 310). Owen does not, however, elaborate on the implications of this statement by the Smyrnaeans with regard to their personal (and therefore theological) relationship to John through Polycarp.

Those who hold to limited atonement may feel that their own interpretation of 1 John 2:2 is strengthened by these historical considerations, since we might have a window (through Polycarp) into the apostle John’s own intention of the passage. However, those who reject limited atonement may still do so, even appealing to their own understanding of this and other passages. But to be fair, those who reject limited atonement can not claim that 1 John 2:2 is a clear proof text against that irritating third point of Calvinism.