Per Caritatem

Concluding Thoughts

As I mentioned in an earlier post, one weakness of Oberman’s essay is that he is not in dialogue with the most current Roman Catholic documents on the relation of Scripture and tradition, viz., Dei Verbum. I recently read this document and have quoted below a few relevant (and lengthy) passages for reflection. The document is very eloquent and in many respects I see a tremendous amount of continuity between the Reformed Protestant and Roman Catholic views on Scripture and tradition, particularly from a T1 perspective. This is not of course to say that there would be full agreement, but it is to acknowledge how much the two traditions share in common. Since this is my first time to read the document, I do not feel qualified to give extensive commentary on the passages below. I have ordered a commentary on Vatican II documents with notes from Roman Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox scholars. In addition, I have ordered a book by Yves Congar, The Meaning of Tradition (I am aware of Congar’s larger work on the subject, but I doubt that I will have time this summer to read through that massive work).
The first passage of Dei Verbum that I would like to highlight states that in sacred scripture “the marvelous ‘condescension’ of eternal wisdom is plain to be seen, ‘that we may come to know the ineffable loving-kindness of God and see for ourselves the thought and care he has given to accommodating his language to our nature’ [St. John Chrysostom, In Gen 3, 8 (homily 17, 1)]. Indeed the words of God, expressed in human language, are in every way like human speech, just as the Word of the eternal Father, when he took on himself the weak flesh of human beings became like them” (section 13, chapter III, DV). I find this passage quite beautiful—particularly the Christological analogy—and see no areas of disagreement here. Although the next passage on the magisterium would be problematic for a Protestant (perhaps not so much if the infallibility aspect were not attached), it is interesting to note the way in which the magisterium is described, viz., as the servant of the word of God. “The task of giving an authentic interpretation of the word of God, whether in its written form or in the form of tradition, has been entrusted to the living teaching office of the church alone. Its authority in this matter is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ. This magisterium is not superior to the word of God, but is rather its servant. It teaches only what has been handed on to it. At the divine command and with the help of the holy Spirit, it listens to this devoutly, guards it reverently and expounds it faithfully. All that it proposes for belief as being divinely revealed it draws from this sole deposit of faith” (section 10, chapter II, DV; emphasis added).

Speaking in Oberman’s categories, this seems to harmonize with a T1 view; however, given that this is my first read of the document and in light of the fact that I do not wish to make hard and fast conclusions about this document apart from being in dialogue with Catholic authors and texts, I look forward to reading the commentary that I mentioned earlier so as to better understand how a well-trained Roman Catholic theologian would explicate this passage. A few sections prior to the passage above, the document reads,

“God graciously arranged that what he had once revealed for the salvation of all peoples should last for ever in its entirety and be transmitted to all generations. Therefore, Christ the Lord, in whom the entire revelation of the most high God is summed up (see 1 Cor 1:20; 3:16-4:6), having fulfilled in his own person and promulgated with his own lips the Gospel promised beforehand by the prophets, commanded the apostles to preach it to everyone as the source of all saving truth and moral law, communicating God’s gifts to them. This was faithfully done: it was done by the apostles who handed on, by oral preaching, by their example, by their dispositions, what they themselves had received—whether from the lips of Christ, from his way of life and his works, or by coming to know it through the prompting of the holy Spirit ; it was done by those apostles and others associated with them who, under the inspiration of the same holy Spirit, committed the message of salvation to writing. In order that the full and living Gospel might always be preserved in the church the apostles left bishops as their successors. They gave them ‘their own position of teaching authority’ [St. Irenaeus, Adv. Haer. III, 3, 1]. This sacred tradition, then, and the sacred scripture of both Testaments, are like a mirror, in which the church, during its pilgrim journey here on earth, contemplates God, from whom it receives everything, until such time as it is brought to see him face to face as he really is (see Jn 3:2). Thus, the apostolic preaching, which is expressed in a special way in the inspired books, was to be preserved in a continuous line of succession until the end of time. Hence the apostles, in handing on what they themselves had received, warn the faithful to maintain the traditions which they had learned either by word of mouth or by letter (see 2 Th 2:15), and to fight for the faith that had been handed on to them once and for all (see Jude 3). What was handed on by the apostles comprises everything that serves to make the people of God live their lives in holiness and increase their faith. In this way the church, in its doctrine, life and worship, perpetuates and transmits to every generation all that it itself is, all that it believes. The tradition that comes from the apostles makes progress in the church, with the help of the holy Spirit. There is a growth in insight into the realities and words that are being passed on. This comes about through the contemplation and study of believers who ponder these things in their hearts (see Lk 2:19 and 51). It comes from the intimate sense of spiritual realities which they experience. And it comes from the preaching of those who, on succeeding to the office of bishop, have received the sure charism of truth. Thus, as the centuries go by, the church is always advancing toward the plenitude of divine truth, until eventually the words of God are fulfilled in it. The saying of the church Fathers are a witness to the life-giving presence of this tradition, showing how its riches are poured out in the practice and life of the believing and praying church. By means of the same tradition, the full canon of the sacred books is known to the church and the holy scriptures themselves are more thoroughly understood and constantly made effective in the church. Thus God, who spoke in the past, continues to converse with the spouse of his beloved Son. And the holy Spirit, through whom the living voice of the Gospel rings out in the church—and through the world—leads believers to the full truth and makes the word of Christ dwell in them in all its richness (see Col 3:16) [sections 7-8, chapter II, DV, emphases added].”

Here it seems to me that this passage could also be read as compatible with a T1 position. For Protestants, it is the possibility of a T2 reading that is problematic; yet, it is my understanding that some Catholics—those employing a Cardinal Newman type argument—would argue that even if one read the passage above as supporting a T2 view, both T1 and T2 are acceptable positions for a Catholic to hold. One could then claim that in light of the fact that Trent went with the more flexible “et” over the more restrictive “partim-partim,” it left room for T1 to re-emerge at a later date. Catholics supporting this line of argumentation might then claim that T3 is in fact not a re-writing of history, but is rather a making explicit what was already implicit and allowing for the development of dogma in light of changing historical circumstances. Personally, (yet with no disrespect meant to my Catholic brothers and sisters) I am not convinced that this approach does not involve a very sophisticated re-writing of dogma, while at the same time I welcome the charitable tone of the Vatican II documents and am particularly encouraged by what I have read in Unitatis Redintegratio—a work that I would recommend to all of my Protestant friends. Moreover, I do believe that there is progress in dogma via the work of the Holy Spirit through the Church in dialogue with tradition and birthed from prayerful meditation of Holy Scripture. In fact, this series has brought to mind an analogy that I would like to work out in more detail at a later date. The analogy runs something like this: the task of the Church since the closing of the canon might be understood as the task of a writing the final movement to a symphony. The first three movements of the symphony have already been written (Holy Scripture); thus, the main melody, the important themes, and the overall structure have been given. The final movement then must show continuity with what has gone before—e.g., the main melody must reappear and be clearly recognizable; however, it may appear in a completely different key than it appeared in the opening movement, or it may be harmonized differently (thus reflecting new historical circumstances etc.). The Church as a whole is involved in this corporate act of composing. Unlike the apostles, who we might say, possessed the gift of perfect pitch, those who hold teaching offices in the Church have been gifted with an extremely high degree of relative pitch (and thus remain fallible). Yet, by the grace of God and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, no one who is a member of Christ’s body is completely tone deaf. Consequently, all who are in union with Christ are able not only to identify the main melody (Christ himself) but are also able to sing it, and hence to participate in and contribute to the actual music itself!

My hope is that this series has been helpful both to Protestants and to Roman Catholics and to any others who have interest in these sorts of topics and wish to better understand the Protestant (both Lutheran and Reformed) teaching on the relation between scripture and tradition. In the spirit of Unitatis Redintegratio, which encourages dialogue between Protestants and Catholics in which each representative “explains the teaching of their communion in greater depth and brings out clearly its distinctive features. Through such dialogue everyone gains a truer knowledge and more just appreciation of the teaching and religious life of both communions (chapter 1, section 4, UR). I have tried to represent to the best of my ability and in the most charitable way (yet of course from a critical perspective) the Catholic position. This is not an area of expertise for me, so I have much to learn not only about my own tradition but also about the Roman Catholic position. Lastly, I would greatly appreciate any recommendations from both Protestant and Catholics as to current scholarly literature on the relation of Scripture and tradition.

With the hope of being more and more conformed to the image of Christ (and even in spite of myself),

Cynthia R. Nielsen

In the second section of his essay, Oberman moves into a discussion of the concept of tradition that characterized the fourth and fifth centuries. First, however, he summarizes two important points of the pre-Augustinian concept of tradition: (1) “The immediate divine origin of tradition together with the insistence on a clearly circumscribed series of historical acts of God in the rule of faith or the rule of truth;” (2) “The rejection of extra-scriptural tradition.”

Oberman begins by appealing to the work of Father George Tavard. In his book Holy Writ or Holy Church, Tavard claims that a seamless continuity of the organic relation of scripture and tradition existed between patristic and medieval theology until the 14th century. However, two new currents of thought began to threaten this understanding: (1) “one which opposes the Scriptures to the Church in admitting the possibility that only a remnant in the visible Church would be obedient to Scripture;” (2) “one which introduces the concept of post-apostolic and oral traditions and raises the Holy See to the dignity of judge of post-apostolic revelation” (p. 276). With the canon lawyers, according to Tavard we see a break with “medieval classicism. Living authority replaces both Scripture and its traditional interpretation” (Holy Writ or Holy Church, p. 39, as cited in Oberman, p. 276). Yet, Tavard also points out that the opposing group, viz., those who claimed that Scripture alone was the sole standard of truth for the Church, were also responsible for destroying the patristic-medieval unity—“from this to the doctrines of the Reformation there is only a difference of degree” (Holy Writ or Holy Church, p. 40, as cited in Oberman, p. 276).

According to Oberman, the shift away from the coinherence of Scripture and Church as maintained by the patristic-medieval vision that Tavard highlights can be traced back to the early Middle Ages—specifically to Basil the Great (c. 330-370) whose views on the subject where later propagated by Augustine. A new concept of tradition is set forth in Basil’s work, On the Holy Spirit. “We meet here for the first time the idea that the Christian owes equal respect and obedience to the written and to the unwritten ecclesiastical traditions, whether they are contained in the canonical writings or in the secret oral tradition handed down by the Apostles through succession” (p. 277). A number of canon lawyers (e.g., Ivo of Chartres and Gratian of Bologna) circulate Basil’s ideas in their writings and thus help to establish the two-sources theory for canon lawyers. For the medieval doctor of theology, however, Scripture remains the “authoritative source which stands in judgment over the interpretation of later commentators. The term ‘sacred page’ for theology is indicative for this close relationship” (p. 277). Such a view can be seen in St. Thomas Aquinas’ work. In the Summa Theologica, Thomas writes, “sacred doctrine makes use of these authorities [those of the philosophers] as extrinsic and probable arguments; but properly uses the authority of the canonical Scriptures as an incontrovertible proof, and the authority of the doctors of the Church as one that may properly be used, yet merely as probable. For our faith rests upon the revelation made to the apostles and prophets who wrote the canonical books, and not on the revelations (if any such there are) made to other doctors. Hence Augustine says (Epis. ad Hieron. xix, 1): ‘Only those books of Scripture which are called canonical have I learned to hold in such honor as to believe their authors have not erred in any way in writing them. But other authors I so read as not to deem everything in their works to be true, merely on account of their having so thought and written, whatever may have been their holiness and learning’” (ST I, q. 1, art. 8, ad 2).

Turning to Augustine, Oberman notes that although Augustine asserts the primacy of Scripture, he did not set this in opposition with the authority of the Catholic Church, “…I would not believe the Gospel, unless the authority of the Catholic Church moved me” [Contra ep. fund., 5], (p. 278). Disagreement soon ensued over the nature of the moving power (commovere of the Church. Some argued that the Church has a practical and instrumental authority (Gregory of Rimini), while others toward the end of the 14th century argued that Augustine’s statement points to a metaphysical priority. That is, in contrast to the idea that the Church’s authority over Scripture had a practical priority in a way similar to the function of Jesus’ miracles, viz., to urge his hearers to believe His words, the “moving authority of the Church becomes in late medieval versions the Church’s approval or creation of Holy Scripture” (p. 278). In distinction from Irenaeus’ and Tertullian’s emphasis on the sufficiency of Scripture, Augustine promotes an authoritative extra-scriptural oral tradition. “While on the one hand the Church ‘moves’ the faithful to discover the authority of Scripture, Scripture on the other hand refers the faithful back to the authority of the Church with regard to a series of issues with which the Apostles did not deal in writing” (p. 279).

Oberman then asks whether the Commonitorium of Vincent of Lerins written in the 5th century has contributed to furthering the two-sources theory. Vincent’s famous thesis is that the Catholic Church must hold to that which has been believed everywhere, always and by everyone—a thesis which seems to permit the idea of an authoritative extra-biblical tradition. Oberman, however, argues that when read in context we find that Vincent accepts the material sufficiency of scripture but rejects its formal sufficiency. “He [Vincent] insists that Holy Scripture needs to be interpreted by the Church since the heretics from Novation to Nestorius all advanced their own exegeses of biblical passages” [Commonitorium II.2], (p. 277). Vincent sees the task of interpretation as preservation and protection against the possibility of perverting what the Apostles have handed down. For Vincent, proper biblical exegesis is not safeguarded “in a secret oral tradition traceable to the Apostles themselves, but in the explicit consensus of the Fathers which provides a safeguard against arbitrary interpretation” (p. 279). Vincent seems to follow St. Thomas in that he does not want the interpretation of the Church to effectively become a second source apart from Holy Scripture. For Vincent, as was the case for Thomas, the “Fathers are in principle magistri probabiles, teachers whose utterances are probable but do not yet constitute proof (seeST I, q. 1, art. 8, ad 2; emphasis added). In fact, the statements of the Fathers come to represent the deposit of faith only when the following five requirements are satisfied: (1) all the Fathers must be of one mind on the issue (non unus aut duo tantum sed omnes pariter; (2) “the consensus has to be exactly the same ( uno eodemque consensu); (3) their opinion should be openly and explicitly formulated (aperte); repeatedly advanced (frequenter); and (5) continuously held, written and taught (perseveranter tenuisse, scripsisse, docuisse)” (p. 280). Oberman concludes the section by noting that though it is often taught (and may very well be the case) that Vincent directs his Commonitorium against Augustine’s strong teaching on predestination, nonetheless, “one does not tax the sources too heavily when one concludes that Vincent here directs his concept of authoritative exegetical tradition primarily against a two-sources theory” (p. 280).

In chapter twelve of his work, Dawn of the Reformation, Heiko Oberman discusses the issue of the relation of Scripture and tradition. As Oberman observes, the 16th century was marked with “bitter polemics concerning the source and norm of the Church’s knowledge of God’s revelation. Traditionally this is described as the clash of the sola scriptura-principle with the Scripture and tradition-principle” (p. 270). Both Protestants and Catholics were eager to uphold the purity and authority of God’s word, yet each believed that the other’s view was detrimental to maintaining this purity and authority. The Reformers pointed to ways in which ecclesial traditions had come to distort the Gospel, while proponents of the Counter-Reformation decried the Reformers for breaking with tradition and promoting private interpretations. “In both cases reliance on human authority is said to interfere with the rule of obedience to Holy Scripture” (p. 270). Oberman then highlights what in my opinion is often glossed over or completely ignored in this discussion, viz., that the debate before us is not one of Scripture or tradition. Until this misconception is deconstructed, the conversation will continue to stagnate. Rather, what we have in these competing claims is “the clash between two concepts of tradition” (p. 270). In order to more fully explicate these two concepts, Oberman begins by examining the gradual reception of the canon in the early Church.

Upon examining the writings of the early Church Fathers, scholars have come to formulate a position called the “coinherence of Church and Scripture.” That is, for the early Fathers, kerygma, Scripture, and tradition fully coincide (p. 270). Oberman then enumerates the following as characteristics of the coinherence position. First, Scripture and tradition coinhere in the “living, visible Body of Christ, inspired and vivified by the operation of the Holy Spirit” (p. 271). Here one must understand that the coinherence is not merely on the level of source (Scripture) and interpretation (tradition), but that Scripture and tradition flow from the same source, viz., the Word of God. Second, both find their common basis in the work of the Holy Spirit through whom both the fides quae creditur (the content of faith; faith objectively considered) and the fides qua creditur (the faith of the believer; faith subjectively considered) are held together (p. 271). Third, “tradition is not understood as an addition to the kerygma contained in Scripture, but either as the handing down of that same kerygma in living form, or as Revelation itself. This implies for the Fathers the explicit denial of extra-scriptural tradition” (p. 271). Moreover, this proclamation can only be safely handed down within the Church. For Irenaeus, the handing down of the truth is identified with episcopal succession (…qui cum episcopatus successione charisma veritatis certum secundum placitum Patris accepereunt,” Adv. Haereses 4.26; p. 271). However, Irenaeus understands the episcopal witness as a derived witness whose “function is to preserve the integrity and totality of the original Apostolic witness. To this end the canon was formed” (p. 271). Oberman adds that the coinherence of Scripture and Church does not equate to an “amorphous organism.” In other words, the Church is distinguished by her instrumental role of receiving and preserving the Apostolic deposit—a deposit which was understood as containing the original kerygma in toto (pp. 271-272). Lastly, Oberman mentions briefly the relation of oral and written tradition with a view as to how modern Roman Catholic theology understands this relation. Form criticism has of course brought to our attention the fact that the scriptures which the Church received as canonical are “the product of a geographically differentiated and complex interplay of oral and later, written traditions.” Given these findings, Oberman highlights two observations made by modern Roman Catholic theologians: “(1) The canon constitutes a snapshot of a multidimensional living tradition. (2) This document from the early Church has the drawback of being only two-dimensional.” In other words, it represents an ossified part of the living tradition and therefore cannot communicate the fullness of the living Church. Current contemporary Roman Catholic theologians employ the distinction real and verbal in order to make this observation explicit (p. 272).

Next, Oberman focuses on two of the earliest Latin Fathers, who wrote near the end of the second century, Irenaeus and Tertullian. According to Irenaeus, the rule of faith (regula fidei or regula veritatis) “is faithfully preserved by the apostolic Church and has found multiform expression in the canonical books (Adv. Haeres. II.41.4). Here we have an unbroken stream in the movement from preached kerygma to the written Scriptures or what we might call the inscripturated apostolic proclamation. This written proclamation then serves as the foundation of the faith (Adv. Haeres. III.1.1). Though Irenaeus no doubt places great emphasis on episcopal succession, at this stage of church history one should not interpret Irenaeus as suggesting that episcopal succession “constitute[s] a channel of oral tradition which would stand alongside Scripture as a second source of revelation” (p. 273, emphasis added). The task of these successors to the Apostles was to faithfully preserve the kerygmic proclamation until canonization was complete. For Irenaeus, there is complete identity between the rule of faith received by the Apostles and the rule of faith received in his own day in the apostolic writings as handed down by the bishops. In addition, recent scholarly findings have made manifest that the regula fidei as employed by Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Clement of Alexandria is not to be interpreted as rule for faith. “The regula fidei is the rule constituted by faith or truth: the historical facts of God’s action in creation and redemption” (p. 273). Neither is the regula fidei to be understood as an authoritative interpretation of Holy Scripture, nor should it been seen as identical to the Creed. The regula fidei is revelation itself and forms the structure of Holy Scripture, whereas, “the Creed is a confession of the historical reality of the acts of God in creation and redemption” (p. 273).

According to Oberman, the distinction made by contemporary Roman Catholic theologians between real and verbal tradition cannot be maintained here since Irenaeus “identifies truth and reality. The reality which we perceive with our eyes is the same as the reality to which the kerygma pertains” (p. 273).
When we turn to Tertullian (and Cyprian) we find a strong distinction made between tradition as preserved in the canon and human traditions (consuetudines). Tertullian, of course, is often pictured as one with a strong anti-intellectual bent, who made it his mission to condemn philosophy. However, as Oberman points out, Tertullian’s vitriolic remarks against e.g., Aristotle as a heretic, is not a wholesale rejection of reason or even philosophy, but of philosophy used as a second source of revelation. For Tertullian, nothing need be added to the apostolic deposit of faith. Oberman closes this section by stating that, “[f]or this period it is not relevant to insist on the usual distinction between active tradition, the act of handing down, and passive tradition, the content of what is handed down. Tradition corresponds at once with fides quae, the articles of faith and fides qua, the act of faith. Tradition is not only divine in content and origin but also in its providential path through history. This can be stressed to the degree that we are forced to translate tradition with ‘revelation’ and tradere with ‘to reveal’” (p. 275).