One of the gifts of my life has been a succession of great professors—John McNaugher and John Whale, to name two. And to name another great one—Dr. Albert Baldinger, now retired on top of a beautiful hilltop in Longvue, Washington. This page could profitably be written about him, but I resist such a temptation. What I want to do is to get started with one of “Baldy’s” thought starters, and he had plenty of them He urged us in class one day to watch the shift of styles in theology, and he said we could always tell what was in style by noticing what subjects brought theological students to the edges of their chairs.
For 14 years now it has been my high privilege to teach in a theological seminary, and I think I have noticed for myself how some subjects come alive for a while and then seem to subside. For a spell it seemed we could never quit wrestling with theories of the Second Advent. Why, I do not know, except that the rise of the Bible School movement across the country seemed, on the whole, to emphasize dispensationalism which was being answered, in conservative circles at least, by men who took their amillennialism seriously. Then came the onslaught, to everyone’s surprise, of the European theologians at Evanston who insisted to the World Council that “The Christian Hope” was primarily an apocalyptic one.
Baptism, or more exactly, the validity of Infant Baptism, was highly debatable even in our seminary of Presbyterian persuasion. The Southern Baptists were no longer satisfied to be “southern”; many independent movements were showing attitudes of the early Anabaptists; the Barthian influence was being felt in every aspect of modern theology and Barth’s discussion on infant baptism with his European contemporaries was having repercussions everywhere. Arguments on the validity of infant baptism kept forcing us to reconsideration of covenants and covenant theologies, not to mention regeneration, new birth, the order of salvation, repentance and faith, and therefore the theological bases of Christian education especially for young people.
It seems self-evident that classroom discussions in theological seminaries are clear reflections of current religious thought. Why not! In our own seminary and at the last count we had representatives from 11 different denominations, 52 colleges and universities, from every synod of our own denomination, and from three different foreign countries. Here is a true and live cross section of contemporary religious thought, not in the upper echelons of churchmanship but from those beloved grass roots. What may not be so self-evident is my own judgment of what brings these theological students to the edge of their chairs now. But my judgment for what it is worth is that there are at least three live topics on which you can get discussion at the drop of your chalk: critiques of the ecumenical movement; the revision of confessional statements; and what it really means to call the Bible the Word of God.
On the subject of ecumenism we can all agree that we do suffer—and that we ought to suffer—over the divisions in the church. They are an offense and a scandal. Paul never answered his own rhetorical question, “Is Christ divided?” He didn’t need to. But Calvin answered it for him and posed one of his own. “Christ is divided,” said Calvin. “Who bleeds?” One cannot contribute knowingly and willingly to the rending of the body of Christ. With this kind of thinking the ecumenical movement was initiated, found answer in the thinking of multitudes of serious churchmen everywhere, and is still sustained with vigor.
But other movements are observable. With emphasis on the invisible rather than the visible church (and I recognize this as an over-simplification for the sake of brevity) there have been countless movements against the ecumenical even in this day in which the climate and atmosphere of the church dictate unions and federations and councils. Differences which began vertically between denominations now run in horizontal stratifications across all denominations. Liberal Baptists, for example, are closer to liberal Methodists than they are to other Baptists; inclusive churches like the Episcopal can support seminaries both high and low and somehow absorb the anomaly. Independent seminaries at both ends of the orthodoxy spectrum have sprung up, are finding sturdy financial support, and are drawing students from all denominations. In the meantime there are so-called divisive movements marked by Bible schools and rival publications even in the same denomination.
There are serious questions in all this: if we are to unite on essentials, what are the essentials? If we can lay aside essentials for the sake of union, are they then really essential? Why must the World Council have three different communion services? If the member churches are not united at the Lord’s table, are they united at all? If we all “see through a glass darkly,” which is an argument against the dogmatism that divides, do we, conversely, have hold of any truth on which we can unite, including the truth that we ought to unite? In the ecumenical game is it ever possible to get any enthusiasm worked up except among the few who play on the varsity (and they always look like the same team), the kind of enthusiasm, for example, some misguided laymen feel for the Berean Class bowling team? Have ecumenical groups become means for the union of the churches in order to present a solid front to the world and remove the scandal of divisiveness, or have they become organizations by which our betters tell us what’s good for us? So the discussions run.
If my judgment is correct, there are still two other questions very much alive among seminarians: the revision of confessional statements and the Bible as the Word of God. Mutatis Mutandis we shall work the theme in our next exciting chapter!
