Per Caritatem

Oberman begins section three by distinguishing between “Tradition I” (T1) and “Tradition II” (T2). T1 stands for what has been described as the “exegetical tradition of interpreted scripture,” whereas T2 represents the “two-sources theory which allows for an extra-biblical oral tradition” (p. 280). As we have seen, both T1 and T2 have their medieval supporters. Moreover, as was mentioned previously, the canon lawyers in the Basilean line follow the two-sources theory with both sources requiring equal respect. The doctors, in contrast, begin to develop the oral tradition in a more subtle fashion. “In theory the material sufficiency of Holy Scripture is upheld long after it has been given up in actuality. The key term of this development is the word ‘implicit’ and the history of this term is one of increasing loss in content. When then finally the two propositions—‘Holy Scripture implicitly says’ and ‘Holy Scripture silently says’—are equated, the exegetical concept of Tradition I has fully developed into what we called Tradition II” (pp. 281-282).

With this history in mind, Oberman suggests that we will better understand the Council of Trent and later Roman Catholic theology [pre-Vatican II]. In light of everything that has been said up to this point, we see the difficulty of tracing T1 to the early part of the Middle Ages because in this period T1 and T2 cannot be sharply separated. This conflation or blurring of lines between the two has to do with the fact that those adhering de facto to T2 continue to claim to support the material sufficiency of scripture. Yet, according to Oberman, after the nominalists (e.g., Ockham, Gerson, d’Ailly and Biel) pave the way for Trent’s reception of T2, the historian can begin to gain a clearer understanding of the differences on both sides of the argument—an argument which is not one of Scripture verses tradition (p. 282). For example, Wyclif, Hus, and Gansfort do not oppose Scripture to tradition, rather they argue for T1 over T2. “True to Vincent’s five restrictive requirements for an authoritative tradition, they defend along with the material sufficiency of Holy Scripture the authority of the exegetical tradition whenever there is a common and explicit witness of the Fathers, in particular of the four great doctors of the Church: Augustine, Jerome, Ambrose and Gregory” (p. 282). Nor do the adherents of T1 deny the importance of episcopal succession for the purpose of preserving the truth. “They indeed regard tradition as the execution of the custodian’s task of the Church. But in contrast to those holding to Tradition II, the emphasis falls rather on the successio doctorum than on the successio episcoporum” (pp. 282-283).

As Oberman argues, Trent represents T2, and the Reformers represent T1. Oberman again reiterates that just as was the case in the later Middle Ages, so too is it the case in the period of Reformation and Counter-Reformation that the conflict is one of a clash of between two concepts of tradition (T1 and T2). Luther of course taught what is known as the sola scriptura principle. However, one should not understand this principle as denying the coinherence of Church and Scripture, but rather as operating within the context of T1, not T2. Throughout the many theological changes that Luther underwent, he never denied the importance of and need for T1.

With regard to the historical details of Trent, Oberman states that in its fourth session, the Council of Trent endorsed T2. In other words, by sanctioning the two-source theory, the extra-scriptural apostolic tradition is to be esteemed on the same level as Holy Scripture. “This implies not only that the successio fidei coincides with the successio episcoporum, but also an elevation of the authority of the Church above the authority of the canonized apostolic kerygma. Due to the restrictive localization of the testimonium internum of the Holy Spirit in the teaching office of the Church, Holy Scripture can only have a mute authority” (p. 286).

Oberman next cites two scholars, Joseph Geiselmann and Father George Tavard who have argued that the main post-Tridentine theologians have misinterpreted Trent as promoting a two-sources theory. Geiselmann and Tavard claim that the Council implicitly accepted the sufficiency of Scripture, and that they viewed tradition as the viva vox evangelii—which would in effect reflect a T1 position. Oberman, however, disagrees with Geiselmann’s thesis (which implicates Tavard as well) for the following reasons, which I will quote in toto:

(a) “The partly-partly (partim-partim) formula of the original draft of the Tridentine decree on the respective authorities of Scripture and tradition cannot be explained away as a product of nominalistic philosophy as Geiselmann suggests. Though one has to cede to the nominalistic theologians the honour of having made the two-sources theory ripe for its official reception at Trent, the formulation ‘partly-partly’ as such is rare and has not yet been traced to a nominalist theologian. The more current translation of the Basilean passage, ‘some—and others’ (quasdam-quasdam), is used by Gabriel Biel but can be traced back to the early medieval canonists. In view of such textual history, one would be well advised not to give too much weight to the change of the initial ‘partly-partly’ to the copulative ‘and’ (et). All three formulations render satisfactory St. Basil’s own choice of words (ta men, ta de).”

(b) “This conclusion is borne out by the statement of the cardinal legate Cervini who announces on 6th April 1546 after a night spent on the revision of the original draft that the final version is ‘in substance’ the same. This would hardly seem compatible with the idea that the Council changed its mind.”

(c) “The energetic protest against the ‘partly-partly’ formulation which Geislemann cites as the cause for the alleged change proves to be limited to two representatives, Bonacci and Nacchianti, of which the first stands under suspicion of heresy on points related to Scripture and tradition and the second was once called ‘avid for novelties’.”

(d) “The Catechismus Romanus (1566) quite clearly interprets ‘and’ (et) as ‘partly-partly’ (partim-partim) when it states that the Word of God is distributed over scripture and tradition” (pp. 287-288).

The bottom line is that according to Oberman, the Council of Trent clearly teaches a two-sources theory in its admission that all doctrinal truths are not found in Scripture. Tradition is a second source that “by adding its own substance complements Holy Scripture. The gradually eroded connection between explicit and implicit truths has been snapped; the exegetical tradition has been transformed into Tradition II” (p. 288). Oberman ends this section by noting that Geiselmann’s thesis has exercised much influence on a large segment of contemporary Roman Catholic theology. Moreover, though Geiselmann desires to demonstrate the error of the two-sources theory, this does not mean that he moves us to a T1 position.

[This is last post in the Oberman series. I hope to begin a new series of "guest posts" this weekend].

In section 4, “Pax and the Third Age,” Oberman observes that peace and concord were the “two most prominent themes in treatises and reform proposals throughout the later Middle Ages” (p. 29). We see a close connection in the late medieval mindset between reform and peace, which indicates that the threat of peace was understood as arising from within the Church. According to Oberman, the goals of conciliarism should not be understood primarily as anti-papal (though of course such sentiments could be found). In other words, the goal was to engage the current crisis of the Church with the intent to reform it and to “re-establish pax and concordia” (p. 30).

Oberman goes on to discuss the relationship between the sacred and the secular. The ever-present awareness of living in the “Third Age”—an age where the sacred was being threatened—brings about reflection on the mutual relationship between the sacred and the secular (p. 31). “Without the sanction of the sacred, the secular cannot provide for a truly human society. If this is the case, then a relation of the sacred and the secular is assumed which itself must disintegrate under the onslaught of the crisis of the later Middle Ages. When the very sources of peace and justice themselves can no longer be regarded as sacred, sanctioned and legitimated, the guarantee for peace and justice in state and society is henceforth seen in terms of partnership between the sacred and the secular, which provides enlightened, rational man with the basis of his covenanted responsibility” (p. 32).

In section 5, “Summa Misericordia … Super Summam Miseriam Directe Cadit” (“Highest mercy … falls immediately upon deepest misery”), Oberman examines three quotations from the early writings of the following theologians (Gerson, Staupitz, and Luther), all of which deal with the relationship “between Christ and the sinner in terms of love and marriage symbolism” (p. 33). Though each of the above passages have a mystical tone, the “mystical” aspect (i.e. the intimate union between God and the believer) is applicable or available to all believers and just a select few. The first point that Oberman emphasizes is that for Gerson the soul must be pure (“fully purged”) before it can experience the “embrace of the Bridegroom, where what is his, pure divinity, becomes yours and what is yours, pure humanity, becomes his.” This expresses a more or less tradition medieval position. In this exegetical tradition, the individual and the Church are interchangeable. Secondly, Gerson’s description of the penitent moving from a view of God as a punishing God to that of desirable, embracing Bridegroom shows that Luther’s so-called “personal” experience in regard to the (punishing) iustitia Dei of Rom 1:17 to the iustitia Christi for us harmonizes well with the medieval tradition of his day (p. 34). The second passage is from Staupitz. The significance of the passage from Staupitz is that on his account “purgation is not the precondition for that union in which justification takes place; instead purgation takes place in the marriage union itself” Sin alone (i.e., our being sinners) is the precondition for this exchange of possessions” (p. 35). Here we do not ascend to Christ, rather he descends to us for our justification. Again, we see the closing of the gap between the secular and the sacred. Third, Oberman examines a passage from Luther. As was the case with Staupitz, Luther too differs from Gerson in that the sinner in no way prepares him/herself for receiving Christ’s redemptive blessings, but rather is justified as a sinner. The distinguishing point between Luther and Staupitz is that “for Luther the union with Christ is mediated through his word, through faith in his promises” (p. 36). Also in distinction from Gerson, the Church (as is the case with the individual soul) is not first purified or purged as a precondition for restoration—such would impossible in Luther’s view. For Luther, reformation has a dual focus: (1) an “acknowledgement of the perpetual nature of the crisis of man and his society” [given our fallen condition] and (2) “the trust in the reality of the sacred embrace of the secular condition” (p. 37).

In sum, Oberman says that given what we have said so far, “we find no reason to conclude that the Reformation movement has a unique claim upon penetration into the modern era” (p. 37). Rather, the crisis of the late medieval period is perhaps best described as the “birth pangs of the Modern era” (p. 38).