I am pleased to announce that Wipf and Stock has published, in the form of a short monograph, a revised and updated version of my Master’s thesis on the Hodge-Nevin controversy on the Lord’s Supper.    The title of the book is Incarnation and Sacrament: The Eucharistic Controversy between Charles Hodge and John Williamson Nevin.  It also includes a foreword by Keith Mathison.

It is currently available from the Wipf and Stock website, here. 

It will also be available through the Westminster Theological Seminary bookstore, and is currently listed there as “coming soon.”

And, of course, it will be available on sites like Amazon, too, but that won’t be for around four weeks or so from now.

Be sure to pick up a copy if you’re interested in Mercersburg and/or this particular controversy.  Happy reading!

Although this blog has been inactive for over a year, I thought it appropriate to announce this here anyway since, according to the blog stats, it still gets some traffic.

As a side note, I’ve also toyed with the idea of resuming blogging (but it would most likely be somewhere other than this blog, which was always intended as a group project).  If I do wind up doing that, I will make an announcement here.


Jonathan G. Bonomo

March 5, 2010

I apologize that this blog has gone so long without either a substantial post or an update explaining the lack of posting. I have some free time this morning so I figured I’d rectify this by offering a brief update on some things. I can only answer for myself as one of the founding members here. I’m sure the other contributors have many reasons of their own for the cessation of posting.

I have reached a point in my life where blogging has ceased having enough importance for me to justify continuing to spend any amount of regular time to it. I began blogging (around four years ago now, I believe) because certain blogs had come to have an impact on my own thinking (mostly in the way of directing me toward reading resources I would not have otherwise been exposed to), and I thought that perhaps by doing so myself I could in turn help others to think more clearly about issues of catholicity by offering public reflections as a result on my own study/thinking. I also found the dialog which took place on blogs to be somewhat beneficial. Even if the discussion could at times be irritating and would at still others devolve into a mass of nonsensical, unbeneficial, and vitriolic diatribes, I always felt that the good outweighed the bad.

The inception of my blogging life took place initially at a time when my theological convictions were at something of a point of crisis, mostly due to my reading of the Church Fathers and comparing their way of thinking to the vapid form of Evangelicalism I had previously avowed. I had come to gain an appreciation for theological perspectives outside of my own and felt myself leaning ever more away from American Evangelicalism toward a more catholic way of thinking and living. I had gained an appreciation for Roman Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Anglo-Catholicism, but my Calvinism always remained strong enough to keep this appreciation entirely at the level of aesthetics rather than actual conviction.

As I was working through many issues, mostly at an academic/theoretical level, I found the world of theoblogs to be one place where I could gain a wide exposure to a variety of perspectives and be informed of different positions by way of conversation with those who actually held them. This was and is a good thing, and I am appreciative for the role my internet interlocutors have played in the development of my own thinking on issues surrounding Christian catholicity in our day.

But I have reached a point in my life where it is necessary for me to move beyond the theoretical and into the practical. Blogs cannot be an end in themselves, and in my mind they never were. I always knew that my involvement in extended internet discourse would die out eventually as I moved away from the level of thinking through issues to developing firm convictions and eventually into putting these convictions into practice through either professional academic or ordained ecclesiastical vocation.

Well, I am neither, at this point, a professional academic nor an ordained minister. But I have at least developed a firm set of convictions concerning what I believe and what the Lord is calling me to which have made it hard for me to justify speding any significant time on blogging any longer.

What I mean is that I no longer find myself in the heated struggle of heart and mind which I had been experiencing when I entered into the wonderful world of blogging. I am quite able now to claim both the early Church Fathers as well as the Reformation Church Fathers as my own, and have very much come to grips with my identity as an heir of the Protestant Reformation, and my own particular theological tradition as confessional Presbyterianism. My faith and life in Christ has been nurtured by this tradition, and by a particular church within this tradition, for the last six of my nine years as a Christian. And even through my time of struggle I have not been exposed to any conclusive reason, either theoretical or practical, which has enticed me to throw off this identity. Much to the contrary, having arrived now at this side of said struggle, I have become even more firm in my confessional Reformed convictions than I was going into it, and have thus decided to pursue ordination to the Gospel ministry in the PCA. To be sure, I do not view the PCA as a perfect denomination or even necessarily better than other Reformed denominations. But, my understanding of catholicity demands that I stay where the Lord has placed me unless or until it becomes impossible for me to continue to do so.

Thus, as my self-identity as a confessional Reformed catholic has solidified, my desire for catholicity has become most immediately focused on the unity of the confessional Reformed churches in America. This does not mean that I have decided to cut off discussion with Christians of other traditions. But it does mean that, as a Reformed believer, I have come to see it as somewhat superfluous to work towards organic unity across confessional boundaries when the churches within my own confessional tradition remain as fragmented as they are, and are ever striving towards more fragmentation.

My understanding of the best way to work toward this unity has become fully church-focused. I had previously, as a full-time aspiring academic, been dealing in the world of the universal and theoretical. This is one of the reasons why blogging had become important for me. Theoblogs deal almost entirely in the world of the theoretical and the universal. They rarely get down to the dirty level of the practical and the particular. It is, of course, absolutely necessary that, for a time, all aspiring pastors and theologians deal with, work through, and develop strong convictions concerning issues in the realm of the theoretical and universal. However, the theoretical must never be viewed as an end in itself. We must always, as Christian churchmen, be asking concerning our theorem, “How will this preach, and how will it work itself out in the real world in the life of the actual assembly of God’s redeemed people?” Thus, when I began to sense my calling as a pastor and to develop a more churchly frame of mind, I became much more focused on ministry in the setting of an existing, local expression of the catholic Church than on thinking about that Church as a theory in the abstract.

Therefore, I have become convinced that I am being called first and foremost to be a pastor and theologian for a specific local gathering of God’s people, formed by the promise of reconciliation with God and each other in Christ as it comes to us in the ministry of Word and Sacrament. Where this gathering shall be I do not know at this point. But it has become my primary goal to prepare myself as best I can to serve that particular flock, wherever it should be. This is where catholicity must begin: in the nitty gritty of real, local churches. From here it must, of course, also work its way out into the church universal. But it must never skip this most basic step, for if it does, any talk or pretense of catholicity is but an empty show.

So, as I have continued to work to prepare myself for such ministry by developing my own personal and churchly piety, by serving in various ways in my church, by working with my pastors and elders, by gleaning from my courses at WTS in ways that have moved beyond the theoretical, and by striving to be a faithful servant of Christ in both my marriage and in my part-time employment, the world of blogging has receded very much into the background for me. This does not mean that I have come to view the time I have spent blogging as superfluous. I do not. In fact, I know that it has played an important role in the development of my thinking at what may perhaps prove to have been, when all is said and done, the most vital time of that development. However, it has become clear to me that blogging has served its purpose, and that it is time for me to move on and to cease devoting my time on any regular basis to reading and writing on blogs.

Thus, I bid this blog, its contributors, and all those who have persevered in reading my obtuse ruminations, a very fond farewell. You will most likely see me from time to time popping up in the comment threads of my heretofore “regular reads”, but as far as contributions in any regular or substantial manner are concerned, I am officially announcing my transition into the phase of blog retirement.

I am always happy to maintain private correspondance, as time permits, via email: jb4calvin at g mail dot com. I can also be found on facebook.

Wishing sincere blessings to all,

Jonathan Bonomo

And Eve of All Saints. I have posted some brief reflections on the connection between those two at another place; and this gives me the opportunity to draw readers’ attention to that place, a new site called Basilica, which has grown out of conversations between some contributors and readers here. It is not at all intended to replace or supersede this one. But whereas this forum is a less directed dialogue between participants of very widely divergent adherence- a free for all dialogue which at its best it very useful and illuminating- the new site is a confidently and consistently evangelical catholic inquiry into first principles and the fields of Christian wisdom, in the spirit of CS Lewis. It aims to offer useful resources to pastors, other leaders, and interested laymen. It will maintain a high editorial standard, and the conversations will be carefully moderated and directed to ensure the most fruitful engagement and exchange of ideas. The site can be found here:


Peace to all, and blessed Reformation Day.

Couldn’t help myself.

Education has always played a large role in my thinking on the hope of future reunion of the Protestant churches, because I am convinced that a major reason (though not the only reason) for our disunity is lack of education about our theological heritage. Christians generally have no idea what the real issues that divide them from other Christians are or how those differences came about; much less do they have the first clue about how these divisions might be healed. This lack of historical and theological perspective serves only to increase defensive and militant postures towards opinions foreign to us and those who hold such opinions. And this is by no means a problem which simply exists among the laity. It is in fact just as much a problem within the theologically “educated” clerical ranks.

Playing a part in rectifying this problem has thus always been in the forefront of my mind as I have pondered where to exercise the gifts I have been given. I was at one time convinced that the best place for me was in the academy, working to educate the future leaders of the church and hopefully playing a part in instilling in them a desire to be united with their brothers and sisters with whom they may differ, or at least helping them to understand why they differ. A laudable goal, I’m sure you’ll agree. However, I have since decided to seek ordination to pastoral ministry, and what follows lays out, in all too brief a manner, my basic line of thinking which initially convinced me that I should forsake the idea of pursuing a career in the wonderful world of academia.

I remain convinced that God does indeed call people to work in the academy in order to serve the church in that capacity, so I don’t want any of my comments here to be taken as a deprecation of the academy per se or those who work therein by any means. However, I am concerned about a rather troubling trend which I have noticed for some time now. Most of the best Christian scholars are going to the academy while those who are not “academic” are going into the pastorate. Thus, our seminaries are full of a sort of intellectual hierarchy amongst the students (I say this as one who has observed closely the student life of two very prominent Protestant seminaries): the majority of highly intellectual students go for PhDs and a career in professional theologizing, while those who are not quite so intellectual enter the pastorate. Thankfully there are exceptions here, but this, it seems to me, is the general rule.

This is a dangerous trend, and one I hope to play a part in breaking. Theology exists for the church, not the church for theology. This is the natural order of things, and I am convinced that it has been reversed in recent years.

One thing we desparately need in order to reverse this situation is pastors who know the entire breadth of Christian thought and its history; who can speak intelligently to the church and the world in our day and effectively combat the fragmentation of church and society.

But also, it is imperative that the locus for theologizing move back to the church. The primary place where theologizing is done has been the abstract world of the academy for far too long. In this situation, the theologizing of the church has come in one of two forms: either a trickle down of ideas originating in the academy, or a reaction against the academy. But in both cases, the academy has dictated the direction in which the theology of the church has moved. But history furnishes us with numerous examples for the rule that most of the best theologians (and by “best” I mean those who have had the most wide-ranging impact) are generally also pastors, so this situation is needless, not to mention very unhealthy.

Thus, I don’t think it is too much of an overstatement to say that the professionalization of theology is a plague on the modern day American churches, and I am convinced that it has played perhaps the biggest role of all in the continual fracturing of the church in this country.

I am not the only one who has seen this. In fact, professional theologians themselves are pointing it out. E. Brooks Holifield, in his magisterial work Theology in America (New Haven: Yale, 2003) provides a very revealing assessment of the beginning of this phenomenon in the nineteenth century:

Presbyterians, both Old school and New, assumed leadership in the professionalizing of theology. As a full-time theologian who never held a position outside the academy, [Charles] Hodge joined the ranks of a new kind of American religious leadership. And as theology moved from the parishes to the seminaries, rivalries among the schools intensified theological disagreements. Princeton saw Andover, for instance, as dedicated to making ‘Old-School doctrines appear ridiculous and odious,’ and it viewed Yale as an enemy of orthodoxy. Old School seminaries competed also among themselves; the southerners at Union, Danville, and Columbia tried to ‘break the charm’ of Princeton’s ‘ascendancy,’ and northern ultraconservative kept Princeton on the defensive by threatening to create new schools whenever the Princeton faculty strayed. Other seminaries, including Auburn in New York, Lane in Ohio, and Union in New York City, became centers of New School thought arrayed against Old School institutions. (371-372)

And, as many of us well know, this was only the beginning.

This is a shame, and I believe it is the calling of our generation to begin an effort to reverse this situation. There is a place for the academy and for academics working therein, of course. But there also needs to be a place in the church for pastors who undertake rigorous academic work and also for career academics who are deeply immersed in the life of the church. And a healthy relationship will never exist between the two institutions unless the church begins to reassert its role as that place for which theology exists and in which the task of theology is to be undertaken.

Also, it is necessary that theologians be pastoral in both perspective and ethos if their ideas are ever really going to have any impact on people. To steal an immortal phrase from The Fearsome Pirate: “If you don’t give a crap about people and their crap, it all goes to crap.” I am convinced that a major problem with the church’s theologizing in our day is that it exists only for the most part in the form of abstraction. Our theology is “out there” somewhere. It exists in an ideal world. But the problem is that the church (for the good of which theology exists) does not exist in an ideal world. The church is a real life, messy place, full of sinful men and women. Jesus Christ took on flesh so that we would no longer have to theologize about a God “out there” with endless theorem. Theology—if it does not exist in the real world and for the real flesh and blood people who constitute the church—“all goes to crap.”

And indeed, it has very much gone to crap in a variety of ways. We find ourselves in a lamentable situation. But it is not a hopeless one.

Keeping in mind that this blog is a collaborative effort between several authors who do not necessarily always agree with each other, I’d like to offer the following reflection on the notion that pre-Reformation Christians allowed the Faith to be disastrously co-opted by “pagan philosophy” rather than remaining faithful to and consistent with Scripture, the understanding of which requires no significant interaction with an outside world that is taken to have its own created integrity, goodness, and usefulness.

Speaking for myself and not for the other authors on this blog, I take it as (almost) axiomatic that if one wants to practice catholicity, one must not start to approach the thing by confusing the sectarian with the catholic. What this means for the following reflection is simply this: the presumption that we, with our post-Reformation standards of biblical exegesis and theological activity have managed to do what our fathers in the Faith did not (could not?) because, supposedly, they were just not quite “into the Bible” as much as we are and thought too highly of “philosophy,” has to be jettisoned as a merely sectarian and not a catholic belief.

Said belief has been proposed by only one small sector of the Church (the Reformed sector – or really, the post-Machen Fundamentalist sub-sector of the Reformed sector), and, because it is soundly rejected by most of the rest of the Church, can thus in no way be taken seriously when it claims to be the standard-setter for everyone else. Indeed, that sub-sector of the Church is one which is arguably in the grip of several serious philosophical prejudices and a reactionary mentality that borders on Manichaeanism in its suspicion of the integrity of man as created. It’s not a catholic belief, and if it is embraced and consistently sought, it actually isolates us as Evangelicals from the only exemplar of living, on-the-ground catholicity which we have – the pre-Reformation era of Christendom.

Anyway, enough of that. Here’s my reflection on the topic at hand.


Just as the idea of a great yawning antithesis between all things non-Christian and all things Christian can be overdrawn, yielding pessimistic excesses, it seems that the idea of a “prisca theologia” (ancient theology) in which the best of non-Christian thought virtually mirrors later developed Christian ideas, can be overdrawn, yielding optimistic excesses.

Marsilio Ficino (1433-1499), king of early Renaissance Platonists, translated a 14th-century manuscript of an older Greek work known as the Corpus Hermeticum, which was believed to be a work by one Hermes Trismegistus and was dated to the time of Moses. Ficino and his contemporaries joyously celebrated the fact they discovered from the contents of the Corpus that apparently much of Christian theology had been known (albeit in a veiled, less developed form) by the best educated pagans many generations prior to the actual advent of Christianity. Ficino, indeed, wrote of a grand lineage of six pre-Christian philosophers – Hermes Trismegistus, Orpheus, Aglaophemus, Pythagoras, Philolaus, and Plato – who together developed the prisca theologia. Writes Ficino:

…In this way, from a wondrous line of six theologians emerged a single system of ancient theology, harmonious in every part, which traced its origins to Mercurius [Hermes Trismegistus] and reached absolute perfection with the divine Plato. Mercurius wrote many books pertaining to the knowledge of divinity,…often speaking not only as philosopher but as prophet….He foresaw the ruin of the old religion, the rise of the new faith, the coming of Christ, the judgement to come, the resurrection of the race, the glory of the blessed, and the torments of the damned. – Cited in Brian P. Copenhaver and Charles B. Schmidt, A History of Western Philosophy, Vol. 3: Renaissance Philosophy (Oxford University Press, 1992), pg. 147

Unfortunately for this joyous story, actually the Corpus Hermeticum was written early in the Christian era, not the time of Moses. In this sense, its celebration as an early non-Christian parallel with Christianity goes along with the mistaken Medieval attribution of the Neoplatonic works of Pseudo-Dionysius to the Dionysius whom Paul converted in Acts 17, the warping of papalist theology by the spurious Donation of Constantine and the False Decretals of Pseudo-Isidore, and the like. To be sure, all these problematic attributions of authority to documents which were either fraudulent or not clearly seen for what they were had very human causes that, upon careful study of the circumstances often render the errors of the past based upon their acceptance much more understandable. We ought not to hold ourselves better than those who in times of great distress (the feudal chaos of post-Carolingian Europe which produced the Donation and the False Decretals) or starry-eyed rediscovery (the early Renaissance) made errors of judgment which had long-lasting and systematic repercussions. We likely wouldn’t have done any better ourselves, had we been there.

Still, keeping in mind the fact that for all our Modern sophistication we are able to be just as frail and fallible as our fathers, there is still a benefit to hindsight. Somewhere or another I read someone learned saying that one big problem with the Medievals was that, books being exceedingly rare and as a general class of things quasi-sacred, they had such a high reverence for them that they would believe just about anything if it was found in a book – especially an old book. The problems to which such a naive trust in the written word – or perhaps more accurately, such a naive trust in our culture’s (or subculture’s) interpretations of the written word – can lead are evident to any serious student of history and culture. While we should not spurn the wise counsel of the fathers, neither should we be too hasty to believe them unconditionally – the best of men are men at best. As Peter Abelard wrote in Sic et Non, all books not belonging to the canon of Sacred Scripture “are to be read with full freedom to criticize, and with no obligation to accept unquestioningly; otherwise they way would be blocked to all discussion, and posterity be deprived of the excellent intellectual exercise of debating difficult questions of language and presentation.”

The notion of a yawning, unbridgeable, antithetical chasm between all things non-Christian and all things Christian is a serious exaggeration of the truth. On the other hand, the idea that even after the Fall man’s rational powers remain able to discern, explain, and preserve really substantial outlines of truth such that perhaps only by changing a few words and phrases Plato or Aristotle might be thought of as Christians-in-disguise is a serious exaggeration of the truth. Yet, like all great myths, both of these exaggerations have a kergyma of the truth buried deep inside. The pessimistic antithesis idea retains the truth that whatever prisca theologia might actually exist, it always has to be subject to ongoing dialogue with and correction by the final theology, the revelation of God in Christ. The optimistic continuity idea retains the truth that at the end of the day God’s creation does actually reveal something and men are actually able to understand it in more than a trivial manner.

Contrary to the optimists, there really is such a thing as being taken captive by philosophy which is according to the basic principles of the world rather than according to Christ (Col. 2:8). However, contrary to the pessimists, there really is such a thing as a pia philosophia (pious philosophy) which prepares the way for Faith and after Faith is embraced, continues to function as the ancilla theologiae (handmaiden of theology). While we should remember that the antithesis-thinkers are properly interested in safeguarding the integrity of the final revelation, at the same time we should remember that for synthesizers like Ficino, the goal of the whole project was not some muddle-brained attempt to mix oil and water on account of a silly fascination with self-evidently dumb pagan ideas, but rather, as Ficino himself put it, a noble quest to “free philosophy, God’s holy gift, from impiety…[and] to save holy religion from detestable ignorance.” [ibid., 148]. Seen in this light the prisca theologia and the pia philosophia can hardly be all that objectionable.

As I’ve begun studies at Westminster Theological Seminary, I figured it might be worth while, given my interest in the history of Reformed theology in America, to write up something on the events in the Presbyterian Church which led to the founding of that institution. Nothing ground-breaking or original here, just a brief narrative for those who may be interested in hearing the story but who to this point have lacked the time.

As a Reformed catholic, I both sympathize with and shrink back from Machen in certain respects. Doctrinally, I agree with him wholheartedly with regard to the importance of orthodoxy and the un-Christian nature of theological liberalism. However, I do have my reservations about his seeming eagerness to pursue division within the Presbyterian Church. At any rate, as one who is a conservative American Presbyterian and therefore an heir of Machen, I do think these things are worth discussing.

My narrative here is taken almost exclusively from Bradley Longfield’s excellent work, The Presbyterian Controversy: Fundamentalists, Modernists, and Moderates (New York: Oxford, 1991.), as I lack the time at the moment to produce anything resembling a full research paper with a variety of sources. However, I’d also recommend Darryl Hart’s biography on Machen for a more sympathetic look at the great New Testament Scholar and champion of “Presbyterian orthodoxy.” Hart’s thesis that Machen was not, in fact, a fundamentalist in the strict sense, is intriguing, and one which I tend to agree with.

Continue Reading »

Nicholas of Cusa (1401-1464), of whom I have written a biographical sketch elsewhere, wrote a work called De Pace Fidei (On Peace in Religion), which is a dialogue between the adherents of various religions. In the dialogue the following interesting discourse on justification appears:

Thereupon Paul, a teacher of the Gentiles, rose up, and by the authority of the Word spoke the following:

Paul: It is necessary that we show that salvation of the soul is not obtained by works, but rather from faith, for Abraham, the father of the faith of all those who believe, whether Arab, Christian, or Jew, believed in God, and he was considered as being justified. The soul of the just will inherit life everlasting. Once this is admitted, these varieties of ritual will not be a cause of dissension, for as sensible signs of the truth of belief these things that have been instituted and received as signs are capable of change, not so the thing that is signified.

Tartar: Tell us how, then, does faith save?

Paul: If God should promise certain things because of His liberality and generosity, should not He, Who is able to provide all things and Who is truth, be believed?

Tartar: I’ll have to admit that. No one can possibly be deceived who believes Him, and if he fails to believe him he would not be worthy of obtaining any gift.

Paul: What, therefore, justifies him who obtains justice?

Tartar: Not merits, otherwise this would not be something gratuitous, but a debt.

Paul: Very well put, but because no living person can be justifed through works in the sight of God, but only gratuitously, the Omnipotent gives whatsoever He will to whomsoever He will. Then, if anybody would be worthy to acquire a promise that was purely gratuitous, it is necessary that he believe in God. It is in this, therefore, that he is justified, because from this alone will he obtain the promise, because he believess in God and expects the Word of God to take place.

Tartar: After God has promised something it is certainly just that He keeps His promises. The person who believes Him is justifed rather through the promise than through its faith.

Paul: God, who promised the seed of Abraham, in which all were to be blessed, justified Abraham, that he might acquire the promise. But if Abraham had not believed in God he would have obtained neither justification nor the promise.

Tartar: I agree with that.

Paul: The faith, therefore, in Abraham was only this, that the fulfillment of the promises was just, because otherwise it would not have been just, nor fulfilled.

Tartar: What did God promise?

Paul: God promised Abraham that He would give him this one seed in the person of Isaac, in which seed all races would be blessed, and this promise actually took place. Since according to the ordinary laws of nature it was impossible for Sarah, his wife, to conceive or give birth, yet because he beleived he acquired a son, Isaac. Later on God tempted Abraham, in that He asked him to offer and slay the boy Isaac, in whom His promise of the seed had been fulfilled. And Abraham obeyed God, believing no less in the future promise, even though it would involve the resuscitation of his dead son. When God discovered this faith in Abraham, then he was justified, and the promise was fulfilled in this one seed which descended from him through Isaac.

Tartar: What is this seed?

Paul: It is Christ, for all races have obtained in Him a divine blessing.

Tartar: What is this blessing?

Paul: The divine blessing is that final desire for happiness which we call eternal life, about which you have alerady heard.

Tartar: Do you desire, therefore, that God should promise us the blessing of eternal life in Christ?

Paul: That is what I wish. For if you believe in this same way you will be justified along with the faithful Abraham, and obtain the promise that was found in the seed of Abraham, Christ Jesus, and that promise is the divine blessing.

Tartar: Do you mean to say, therefore, that this faith alone justifies and enables us to attain of eternal life?

Paul: I do. – from “De Pace Fide,” in Unity and Reform: Selected Writings of Nicholas De Cusa, ed. John P. Dolan (University of Notre Dame Press, 1962), pp. 227-229

Note that this was written in 1453, thirty years before the birth of Martin Luther.

There is an interesting series of posts discussing the recent “Denominational Renewal” conference over at Common Grounds Online.  They come from a variety of perspectives, with both positive and negative criticisms of the conference.

Though the conference was limited to the PCA (and its speakers all maintained that PCA was basically founded on the right principles in need mostly of an attitude adjustment, whereas our own commentators might hold it to be a slightly more periphereal movement in the scope of Reformed orthodoxy), I think there are still some important overlapping concerns to be noted.  For instance, one comment calls for a sort of “Reformed Resourcement.” This is exactly what we would like to see as well, and in fact, we’ve been planning on running a series of posts that investigate just that.  A few thoughts come to mind:

Reformed Resourcement must deal with real history.  It cannot relegate real-time people and events to “ideologies,” nor can it be content with a theological communitarianism where each tradition colors within its own confessional lines and promises not to bother the other.  Our project will seek to make some universal truth claims.

In keeping with this idea, Reformed Resourcement must be willing to question our current lines of demarcation.  Is it really true that the Puritans were Reformed and their Anglican opponents were not?  Is it true that the most extreme branches of the tradition are the most faithful?

Reformed Resourcement will also only be as ecumenical or unecumenical as the Reformers were.  If it is true that they were all sectarians, then a recovery of their ideas can hardly fail to note that.  Or, more happily, if they were more ecumenically minded than the present age, so too must the project be.  I suspect that the reality will be a little of both.  The Reformers were not interested in unity with idolatry, but they were willing to relegate certain doctrines, now much beloved, to the realm of adiaphora.

Another key point will be to get beyond our current departmentalization of knowledge.  The Reformation was magisterial, meaning that it involved the magistrates.  To properly understand the Reformed churches, we will have to understand the Reformed commonwealths.  America has done a poor job at this, opting instead to discover faithful remnants that set the stage for the American project.

Perhaps the final challenge will be in deciding how much of the tradition can be carried over, and what parts will require appropriate modification, even if only mutatis mutandis.

Once we can become clear on the parameters of this project, then we will be free to offer observations and critiques on other competing movements, but no sooner.  Look for a solid intro post on this by our friend Peter Escalante in the week to come.  It would be great if we could attract a broader Evangelical audience to interact.

**(UPDATE: I have purchased a new domain name, http://www.tgenloe.com, and am in the process of restoring Societas Christiana there. Please update your bookmarks. Those who had my old timenloe.net e-mail address, just change the domain name in it to tgenloe.com and you should be able to reach me at my new location. Thanks!)**

Sorry to do this here, but I have no other way of getting the word out. Through negligence and forgetfulness, I’ve lost control of my domain name, so for those of you who follow my work at Societas Christiana I’m afraid the site is down and might be for some time. The funky page you see there now is courtesy of the fine folks at Yahoo domain services, through whom I purchased the domain name originally.

Best case scenario I’ll remember my login information and get things taken care of this week. Worst case scenario, I won’t remember that stuff and it will be late November before I can redeem the domain name and get re-established.

Given that I am a student and adjunct instructor in theology at a Jesuit university, I became aware of the (Roman Catholic) Congregation for Divine Worship’s June directive concerning the liturgical use of the Divine Name in Hebrew (YHVH) back in the Summer. For those who haven’t seen it, I offer you a look:

Christians have been debating this for the last couple of weeks following publication of the directive in Christianity Today, so I thought I’d weigh in. Having learned to vocalize according to the qere reading “Adonai” or “Lord” when studying and reciting Hebrew in my Master of Arts-Old Testament days at TEDS, I have since gone back and forth on the propriety of vocalizing “YaHWeH” in the context of preaching and teaching. Mostly, I have lapsed in and out of the practice depending on the needs of the moment.

Although I am not canonically bound to observe the discipline, I have thought a bit about the matter and have decided that I am prepared to receive Cardinal Arinze’s directive as reflecting a certain wisdom and theologically appropriate deference concerning the practice.  As a conversation starter, I’ll simply list some of my reasons:

1. The process of “fencing” the divine name by vocalizing “adonai” (Lord) as a qere (that which is read) circumlocution of the kethib (that which is written) “YHVH” was an act of reverence for the holiness of the divine name.  By avoiding its vocalization the name was preserved from abuse.  The scholarly consensus is that this practice originated c. 300 BC in several forms and gradually achieved universal observance. This was not superstitious, but an application of the commandment to never make wrongful use of the divine name.

The deep memory of Exile seems to have driven concern for a fastidious observance of the commandments. Numerous texts survive suggesting that the divine name was polluted by idolatrous adumbration. We actually have surviving graffiti from the ante-Christian period reading, “I bless you by Yahweh of Samaria and by his asherah,” and “I bless you by Yahweh of Teiman and by his asherah.” (Cf. Dever, Recent Archaeological Discoveries and Biblical Research, 1993). The ANE practice of naming deities often implied some power to authoritatively summon, and thus to control and coerce. The danger of this is often cited as a reason for the mysterious self-designation of Israel’s God by the elusive nominalizing of the Hebrew “hayah” (“I will be what I will be.”). It is likewise reflected in the patriarchal tradition of Jacob’s request to know the name of the angel-man-God who attacked him and in Adam’s naming the animals as a sign of his dominion. Viewed in this light, Israel’s pre-exilic condition and the syncretic idolatry characterizing it propelled Second Temple and Early Rabbinic resistance to similar threats of syncretism in both the Greek and Roman periods. That this memory was inscribed into liturgical practice vis-a-vis the divine name was actually a development laden with serious theological reflection. It is not too far to say, in fact, that the practice of qere circumlocution of the divine name represents a kind of liturgical-linguistic iconography setting forth the teaching of the Hebrew prophets and the post-exilic writings.

2. But why should we observe the practice as contemporary Christians?  To this question I would pose the deeper question of our connection to our older brothers and sisters in the covenant.  At the theoretical level, it requires reflection on whether there is a relationship of essential continuity or essential discontinuity between Christianity and Judaism. On the practical level in requires reflection on whether the Church has yet to learn anything of Jesus from Jews.

To the theoretical question, I think that there is good ground to think of the Christian relationship to Judaism as one of essential continuity with important discontinuities rather than the other way around. Certainly this works for anyone reading the New Testament in light of its reflections on the Hebrew Bible and the story of Israel. Saint Paul in particular was quite willing to narrate the story of his Early Christian communities (churches) in a vital continuity with the stories of Adam, Abraham, Moses, etc.  The fact that his narration reorients that story around a new climactic moment-the death and resurrection of Israel’s Messiah, Jesus-should not obscure his belief that he was fully faithful to Torah and to the essential vocation of Israel as the instrument of eschatological blessing to all humankind.  This continuity works prospectively as well as it does retrospectively, however.  Romans 9-11 witnesses to a certain Pauline hope that Israel as Israel-not Israel as incidental, individual Jewish converts-will be saved in the eschaton. While it belongs to the integrity of Christian confession to acknowledge that this will essentially be an eschatological reconciliation to one covenant wherein Jesus as Messiah and Lord, Paul is at great pains-straining at points, even-to announce and defend God’s eschatological fidelity to all the covenants of promise. This fidelity is applicable, as he sloganizes throughout Romans, to Jews and Gentiles alike.

To the practical question, I argue that Judaism presents a continual challenge and opportunity to learn about Jesus. Saint Paul recognizes that Israel qua Israel is heir to the covenants of promise and constitutes the normative canonical steward of the Hebrew Bible/Christian Old Testament. This has resulted historically in the Protestant appeal to Judaism in order to establish the legitimate boundaries of the canon of the Old Testament (as opposed to the LXX-Vulgata tradition containing the Apocrypha/Deuterocanonical books).  It has appeared in the Renaissance-Reformation appeal to Medieval Rabbinic exegesis in the Mikra’ot-Gedalot to overturn established Roman Catholic exegesis. It also appears in Benedict XVI’s extended dialogues with Rabbi Jacob Neusner as a norm for his own christological interpretation of the Gospels and his conclusions regarding the historical Jesus. Could it be that faithful observance of this (entirely legitimate) development in Second Temple Jewish theology and liturgical praxis will enhance our own theological reflection likewise? I think that there is good reason to suspect that it might.

3.  Beyond these larger considerations, I would cite the mere apostolic precedent of the New Testament in its citation of the Old. These citations are often directly from the LXX, but not always. Whether they are from additional Greek translations of the Hebrew or original to the New Testament authors themselves, there is not a single instance where YHVH is transliterated or rendered in any other way than kurios (=adonai). Note, for example, Jesus’ citation of Isaiah 61:1-2 in Luke 4:18-19. While we may, perhaps, acknowledge that Jesus cited the text in Hebrew and expounded upon it in Aramaic, do we really want to accuse Luke of  theological or theo-practical error when he opts to render Isaiah’s ruach adonay YHVH as pneuma kuriou? The same holds true in the next verse where Jesus’ prolamation of Isaiah’s liqroh shenat-ratzon l’YHVH is rendered as eniauton kuriou dekton?

4. Finally, there is simply the governing consideration of the Golden Rule and a general theopraxis of love. While in no way seeking to broaden the narrow way that leads to life, there is something to be said for making the way narrower than it already is.  Acknowledging the stumbling stone that is Jesus’ Messianic claim, we ought also to be mindful of the rhetorical stubling boulders proffered by  Chrysostom, Luther, the Crusades, and Oberammergau. This legacy of Christian Anti-Judaism leads in a disturbingly direct and straight line to the gas chambers of Belzec, Sobibor, Treblinka, and Auschwitz-Birkenau. That fact alone requires Christians to do all that integrity of faith allows to prefer others to ourselves. In the end, nothing is sacrificed by ornamenting the Divine Name with reverential silence. The bearer of the Name remains Lord of the Covenant and King of All Creation regardless.  On the other hand, insisting on our Christian liberty despite the weakness of others both overturns the Apostolic command (Cf. 1 Cor 8:12-13) and sublty reduces the Divine Name itself from an icon to an idol.

(I posted this first in the comment thread of the previous post, but thought it might be more useful as a post of its own.)

Since we’ve been discussing Kuyper and the doctrine of immediate relation of the soul to God in Christ, I was wondering whether any of you would find this selection objectionable, and if so, in what way:

“Men already dwell in this society of the three blessed persons of the Trinity. Their minds and wills already go straight out to God, unbroken in their course by the intervention of measures made by human authority: their faith rests on the first truth of God, not directly on any articulate dogma or the (teaching authority) of the Church….These are the theological virtues, directly related to God, and not modulated by the reason. Their effect is not to produce a good citizen, or even a reasonable fellow, but to make men move at ease in the extravagances of divine friendship. Christianity offers more than a superior sort of civic philosophy.
The philosophers may counsel it, but they cannot plan for this adventure beyond the severely rational country of the good life where the political virtues are displayed, of men sensibly and justly comporting themselves. Reason may go far, but not into a higher and more mysterious region. At least,not alone. For it is not a place of things clad in meanings and forms, but of naked existents…..Here is no justice content with accommodations to the present city, but (rather a) soaring off to God….and less mysterious, the insistence that no man should suppress his own sincere conscience in the name of an obedience to an extrinsic code.”