It is the psalmist who sings “The Heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handiwork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language, their voice is not heard.” Men have known these things for generations. They have gloried in the glory of a God who manifests himself in his wonderous works. No speech nor language is spoken, it is not in the words of Greek or Hebrew or German or English; yet every day speaks and every night shows knowledge. The apostle adds in a later day “the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead; so that they are without excuse.…” Psalmist and apostle declare what no man can deny, that there is a God who can be known through his works and when we refuse to see him there, we are without excuse.

Such knowledge of God forced on us by the world around us has been recognized and accepted by believers in every generation. In some fashion it is the approach of Plato as he moves level upon level to his supreme Idea, an idea, which according to Plato’s thinking, necessarily has moral qualities which can be defined as an Ideal. In some fashion it is the approach of Aristotle as his system carries us from utter matter to perfect form or from the inanimate world to the high reaches of the Unmoved Mover. More specifically, in the Christian tradition, men have discovered in the world around them “proofs” for God, reasons for faith, necessities for believing, and, at least, in the direction of their thinking, they have been forced toward some knowledge of God. Arguments for the existence of God and in support of the nature of God are very old ones. They have been subjected to much criticism and therefore to considerable refinement in the history of thought. In spite of such criticism, however, they keep cropping up in one form or another, one argument, or one way of stating the argument, appealing to one generation more than to another; but none of the arguments ever quite disappears. That these arguments keep reviving is probably a reason for their fundamental strength; men feel under some duress to define what they know must be true about God from the evidence of the external world.

From Effects to their Cause. Keeping in mind that these arguments say something about God’s attributes as well as giving reasons for his existence, we are justified in using them as supports in natural theology for our knowledge of God. In general, the arguments move under at least four titles: The Cosmological, The Teleological, The Anthropological, and The Ontological. These arguments all allow somewhat the same scheme, namely that an effect must have a cause equal to or greater than the effect itself. In the general scheme of things you cannot get something from nothing and, surely, one can observe a great deal of something in the world of nature; the question is, therefore, what is “the source, the support, and the end” of all these things about us? What is the explanation of their existence?

The easiest argument is The Cosmological. It argues from the existence of the Cosmos, the universe, what C. S. Lewis calls “the whole show.” Man does not need to be either clever or subtle merely to wonder about the world around him. How can one account for all these things he sees and experiences—the birds, the rocks, the trees and the stars in their courses. This first argument in “natural” theology finds us unable to escape the belief that back of all this cosmos there is some thing or some one equal to bringing into existence (by what method we need not argue here) the universe within us, around us and above us.

The Teleological argument is more reflective regarding the universe. Here our interest is focused on design and purpose as we discover the amazing intricacy with which all things are interlocked as if united in some grand mutual interdependancy, some basic design. These interlocked designs and purposes point to a designer, some intelligence with creative purpose. There are no isolated data, there is no item so small that it is not somehow interrelated with every possible other thing. Nothing ever “just happens.” You can never really say of anything that “it doesn’t really matter.” Butler in his Analogy, Paley in his Evidences and in these latter days F. R. Tennant in his Philosophical Theology found this argument from design almost conclusive for the existence and the nature of God.

In his master work, Nature, Man and God, William Temple sets himself to examine the world of nature only to discover that nature includes man and that nature and man together point us to God. In some such fashion The Anthropological argument grows out of the Teleological argument, for nothing points more clearly to intelligence and design than the fact of man himself, man who is able to understand the design and to appreciate the designer. But beyond this is man as person. Man as a person has what we call personality. Will anyone seriously argue that personality can arise from some impersonal source? Will anyone seriously support accidents or material or both as sufficient to account for all the wonders in man? Since man is so creative himself, was the ground of his existence uncreative? Thus the argument runs. We cannot get something from nothing; we have something personal in man; we cannot believe that this personal end-product comes from impersonal sources.

The Ontological argument points to perfection or more exactly to the idea of perfection which we find inescapable in our ways of thought. To use our thinking about God as an example, how is it possible for us to talk about the perfections of God without some idea of perfection as a point of reference. Yet we are imperfect ourselves, we think imperfectly, we are surrounded by a world of imperfections. Since, once again, we cannot get something from nothing and since assuredly we have ideas of perfection which cannot be accounted for in the immediacies of our surroundings, the conclusion suggests itself that this idea of perfection must come directly from the perfect source, namely, from God himself.

It would appear from this brief treatment that we have at least four reasons for believing in God. (Some add the moral argument, that is, the inescapable sense of “oughtness” common to all men, Kant’s catagorical imperative. We believe that the moral argument which we have not here expanded can find a natural place in the Anthropological argument.) These tell us some very definite things about God’s nature—he is mighty enough to account for the universe itself, he is intelligent enough to satisfy its design, he is personal enough to account for man as person, and he is the ground of all our understanding and perfection. If we add creativity and morality as necessary to man as person, we may presume to have found as necessary a God who is almighty, intelligent, personal, creative, moral and perfect. We are not far from the kingdom!

From Necessary Presuppositions. What has been said thus far usually comes under the heading of a posteriori reasoning, that is, reaching our conclusions inductively. There are others who prefer the a priori approach; this is, as a matter of fact, the approach of much of the theology of our day. Knowledge of God with this approach is not so much the result of our thinking as it is the starting place of our thinking. The starting place is always there, described sometimes as a first truth, and it is only in personal intellectual maturity or perhaps in the maturity of the race that man gets around to analyzing the nature of his starting place. Living as we do in an age dominated by scientific method, it is difficult for us to accept the fact that we operate even in science, even in our “proofs,” from the foundation of various presuppositions. For many, the fact of God is one of the necessary presuppositions.

All of us must accept some first truths about ourselves from the outset. We are alive and awake and sane; such truths about ourselves which we cannot prove objectively; we merely accept them as starting places. On a deeper level we base our thinking on the assumption that there are certain foundations of Truth and Reason from which we operate and to which we constantly return. We believe that truth has an interrelatedness in a universe (which is a single organizational principle of truth).

All serious thinking, especially the most objective scientific research, upholds the necessity of absolute honesty in methods and in findings, appealing therefore to a moral ground built into the structure of reality. In other directions our words betray us: “it stands to reason” or “that doesn’t make sense.” Thus we are insisting that our thinking, as well as our experimenting, demands a frame of reference that is sensible. Moreover, we appeal to one another on the grounds of a common acceptance of these necessary fundamentals. Notice the presupposition of this paragraph recently published in the Science section of Time magazine where the discussion has to do with the possibility of interplanetary conversations: “But what message would aliens send that could be understood by earthlings? Dr. Drake suggests a familiar series of numbers, such as 1, 2, 3, 4. Professor Purcell believes that a simple on-off signal would be more logical as a starter. After that the messages could progress to Mathematical relationships, which are surely the same in all planetary systems.…” (Footnote: “Science—Project OZMA,” Time, April 18, 1960, p. 53.) (Italics supplied.) Note how normal it is for scientists to assume an underlying rational system.

From Special Revelation. From this a priori approach it is interesting to note that we are talking again about a Reality at the source of things showing attributes of Truth, Reason, and Morality. We are being pressed to the conclusion again, namely, that in what is called Natural Theology there are strong reasons for knowing that there is a God and knowing something of his attributes. But, “can a man by searching find out God?” Only is this possible when God is pleased to reveal himself and to answer finally and authoritatively man’s deepest questions. This is not Natural Revelation but Special Revelation. This is the Bible record of God’s mighty acts and his authoritative Word about the revelatory acts and about himself. This is the climax and fulfillment of God’s Word to us in the Living Word even Jesus Christ. Natural revelation gives us direction and confidence in our search for God; God’s Special Revelation gives us final authority and assurance regarding his own nature and his will for man. As Calvin suggests, in the Bible we have the “divine spectacles” which bring the truths of natural theology into focus.

Bibliography: In addition to classic systematic theologies by C. Hodge, A. H. Strong, L. Berkhof and others, we suggest: Evangelical: R. Flint, Theism (an old standard work); J. Gerstner, Reasons For Faith (popular and sound); S. M. Thompson, A Modern Philosophy of Religion; H. Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics. Others: K. Barth, Church Dogmatics (dialectical); F. R. Tennant, Philosophical Theology (liberal but surprisingly firm in its objective approach).

Professor of Systematic Theology

Pittsburgh Theological Seminary

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Contributors Of Essays On Basic Christian Doctrines

Oswald T. Allis, formerly Princeton Theological Seminary; William M. Arnett, Asbury Theological Seminary; G. C. Berkouwer, Free University of Amsterdam; Geoffrey W. Bromiley, Fuller Theological Seminary; F. F. Bruce, University of Manchester; J. Oliver Buswell, Jr., Covenant Seminary; Edward John Carnell, Fuller Theological Seminary; Ralph Earle, Nazarene Theological Seminary; James Forrester, Gordon College; Frank E. Gaebelein, The Stony Brook School; J. Norval Geldenhuys, Dutch Reformed Church of South Africa; John H. Gerstner, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary; J. Kenneth Grider, Nazarene Theological Seminary; Anthony A. Hoekema, Calvin Seminary; Philip E. Hughes, The Churchman; W. Boyd Hunt, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary; Fred H. Klooster, Calvin Seminary; Harold B. Kuhn, Asbury Theological Seminary; George E. Ladd, Fuller Theological Seminary; Addison H. Leitch, Pittsburgh Theological Seminary; Calvin D. Linton, George Washington University;

Julius R. Mantey, Northern Baptist Theological Seminary; Pierre Marcel, Calvinist Society of France; H. D. McDonald, Northern Baptist Theological Seminary; Otto Michel, University of Tuebingen; Leon Morris, Tyndale House; J. T. Mueller, Concordia Seminary; William A. Mueller, New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary; John Murray, Westminster Theological Seminary; Roger Nicole, Gordon Divinity School; M. Eugene Osterhaven, Western Theological Seminary; James I. Packer, Tyndale Hall; Bernard Ramm, California Baptist Theological Seminary; William Childs Robinson, Columbia Theological Seminary; Robert Paul Roth, Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary; Andrew K. Rule, Louisville Presbyterian Seminary; Wilbur M. Smith, Fuller Theological Seminary; Henry Stob, Calvin Seminary; Merrill C. Tenney, Wheaton College; J. G. S. S. Thomson, formerly New College, Edinburgh; Cornelius Van Til, Westminster Theological Seminary; John F. Walvoord, Dallas Theological Seminary; Wayne E. Ward, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; Walter Wessel, North American Baptist Seminary.

THE SUPREME QUESTION

Among the strangest of all phenomena is that life’s most important question is so rarely asked. Even among the unregenerate, it would seem that circumstances should make them stop and ask themselves the question. But that there should be comparative silence in the Christian Church on so important a matter is a staggering enigma!

The question is: “Where will I spend eternity?”

In view of the fact that the Church has the answer, why do we so rarely hear this question asked us from the pulpit?

Confronted with the inevitability of death, with its visible effect all around us—in the slowly moving funeral processions, in the newspaper obituary notices, in the experiences of every home, in the stories of violence or the slow toll of disease recounted for us daily—why is the question of questions so infrequently heard? Is it because the query is foolish?—Only to those whose hearts are insensitive to the eternal.

Trivial?—Only to those who live in a realm little removed from the lower animals.

Unimportant?—Only to those who fail to understand man and his need of God’s redeeming love.

Unasked?—Only by those whose hearts and minds have been blinded by the god of this world.

Neglected?—Yes, by pulpits and individual Christians on every hand.

Rejected as lacking relevance?—Yes, but only by those who have believed “another gospel,” who ignore the clear teachings of Holy Scripture, and who have envisioned for themselves and for others a man-made device to bridge the chasm which Abraham spoke of in our Lord’s parable: “And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence.”

Let us suppose that from every pulpit in America there should come a message on the same day, “Where Will You Spend Eternity?” What a shock might result, what consternation caused in some minds, what searching for the answer on the part of many!

The calendar of every denomination is filled with different “days.” Almost every Sunday commemorates some anniversary, the stressing of a particular cause, even the glorification and undergirding of some secular movements.

What would happen if every church would set aside one Sunday a year to preach on the most vital of all questions: “Where Will You Spend Eternity?”

What would happen if in many sermons during the year the all-important question was raised, even if only by inference?

There are so many aspects and implications involved in this question that they stagger the imagination. But this is not an imaginary problem. Nor should it be permitted to fall into the realm of human speculation.

Some years ago the writer had his first of two coronary episodes. It was an experience for which he is deeply thankful. Confronted then (and constantly since) with the most important of all questions, he knew where he would spend eternity, and he knew who had made this possible.

When one is face to face with the reality and inevitability of death, things should assume their proper perspective, for it is this world which distorts and the next which brings this life and eternity into focus.

Here we are confronted with the vital versus the trivial: the spirit as compared with the flesh, the things which are unseen in relation to the tawdry things that are seen.

Again it may be asked why, in view of the eternal import of the matter, so little is ever said about it. Even more amazing is the somber fact that within the Christian Church the overwhelming emphasis is on secondary things, on programs which can never be properly implemented until participants have met the issue of the eternal.

One of the most familiar passages in the New Testament is our Lord’s parable of the Prodigal. Suppose that in the case of the Prodigal son emphasis had been on renovating the “far country,” on disinfecting and perfuming the swine, on providing a banquet for the wayward boy, or making him comfortable and happy where he was?

Yet that is what today’s church too often tries to do. Rather than bring the sinner back to his Heavenly Father through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we spend so much time trying to make him comfortable and happy in a dying world order—yes, and in trying to make him act like a Christian.

This unfortunate situation is the result of ignorance, unbelief, neglect, or personal timidity. Why should we hesitate to ask an unsaved friend or acquaintance: “Where will you spend eternity?” Yet we hesitate often because we ourselves have a lingering uncertainty about it.

Once the question is settled, all other things begin to fall into their rightful place. The fear of death is no longer with us. Christ becomes a living reality and we can look forward with joy to being in his presence. Prayer becomes a matter of supreme practicality, a form of spiritual respiration which diffuses into our hearts the oxygen of divine companionship. The Bible becomes a living Book to us which speaks to our hearts and minds and makes us sensitive to God’s love, will, and purpose.

In addition, those persons with whom we come in daily contact realize that we have a hope from which nothing can separate us. Paul’s affirmation becomes a living reality, and we know all things are working together for our good because we love God and are his.

One of the most pitiful sights the writer ever saw was an old man, on the verge of death, studying and gloating over a long list of stocks and bonds which he owned and commenting gleefully on their increase in value since he had first purchased them.

“How much did he leave?” is a question we frequently hear. There is but one answer—“All”—but we are tempted to evaluate men by their wealth and remember them by their achievements.

But the Christian approach is as different as death from life, for it is eternal life which Christ came to give to all who believe in him. Even success in a good cause is secondary. Some of our Lord’s disciples returned from a missionary journey gloating over the fact that even the evil spirits were subject to them through His name.

To the exuberant disciples our Lord replied: “Notwithstanding in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven.”

It is true that a Christian should not set his mind on eternity and forget or ignore his earthly duties. But the gateway to Christianity is the narrow door of faith in the Son of God, and the vital question is never answered rightly until we know him whom to know is life eternal.

L. NELSON BELL

The Epistle to Titus is one of the Pastoral Epistles, a name first used of the letters to Timothy and Titus by D. N. Berdot in 1703 and later popularized by Paul Anton of Halle in 1726. The appropriateness of the name has been debated by New Testament scholars, but its essential usefulness to denote the contents of these Epistles is evident.

AUTHORSHIP

Titus shares in the major problem common to the Pastorals, namely, authenticity. Until the time of Schleiermacher (1807) the Pauline authorship of these letters was universally recognized by the Church. True, Marcion rejected them, but that was to be expected because of his dogmatic presuppositions. The Chester Beatty papyrus (p. 46, third century) does not contain them, but since both the beginning and ending of this codex are not extant, no certain conclusions can be drawn from their exclusion.

Since Schleiermacher’s day the rejection of the Pauline authorship has been along the following lines: (1) doctrinal: the theology of the Pastorals is post-Pauline; (2) historical: the events of the Pastorals cannot be fitted into the life of Paul; (3) ecclesiastical: the church organization revealed in these letters is too advanced for Paul’s time; (4) linguistic: the vocabulary and style of the Pastorals are not Paul’s. It is not within the scope of this article to discuss all of these objections (the interested reader should consult the commentaries of Simpson and Guthrie). Since, however, the linguistic argument is the weightiest, a word about it is in order. It was Schleiermacher who first openly denied the authenticity of the Pastorals on linguistic bases. He was followed by other scholars, the most influential of whom was P. N. Harrison. His now famous, The Problem of the Pastorals (1921), persuaded many New Testament scholars who had previously refused to go along with Schleiermacher.

Harrison’s basic contention was that the vocabulary and style of these epistles are more like the writings of the late first and early second century Apostolic Fathers and Apologists than Paul’s authentic letters. Harrison could not, however, deny the true Pauline ring of some of the passages in the Pastorals (e.g., 2 Tim. 4 and references to certain personages) and thus concluded that the Pastorals were written by a second century Paulinist who had in his possession certain fragments of letters written by Paul to Timothy and Titus.

Harrison’s theory has come under rigorous examination and, although it has enjoyed wide acceptance, has been rejected by scholars of as widely differing backgrounds as Guthrie, Jeremias, Behm, and de Zwaan. His rather arbitrary statistical methods in particular have drawn fire from his critics. Indeed, there is serious question whether any valid results can be achieved from statistical vocabulary studies involving documents as brief as the Pastorals. Metzger (Expository Times, LXX, p. 94) calls attention to the statistical studies of G. U. Yule who contends that a treatise must be at least ten thousand words long to form a solid basis for statistical analysis. The Pastorals, of course, contain far less words than that. The case against the authenticity of the Pastorals is a long way from being closed.

TITUS

No mention is made of Titus in Acts (was he Luke’s brother?), but a few scattered references to him occur in the Epistles of Paul, especially II Corinthians. Titus was a Gentile (Gal. 2:3) and probably a spiritual son of Paul (Titus 1:4). He was in the company of Barnabas and Paul when they made their “famine visit” to Jerusalem (Gal. 2:3). The next explicit reference to him is during Paul’s three-year stay at Ephesus. He may have been the bearer of I Corinthians, and, even more likely, of Paul’s “severe letter” to that church. It is clear that Paul had sent Titus to Corinth about matters which were of deep concern to him and had arranged to meet him at Troas (2 Cor. 2:13). When Titus did not appear, Paul traveled on into Macedonia. It was there that he met Titus and with great relief heard the good news that the worst of the trouble was over at Corinth (2 Cor. 7:6, 13, 14). Titus, accompanied by two other brethren, was the bearer of II Corinthians (2 Cor. 8:23) and was given the responsibility of making arrangements for the collection in Corinth (2 Cor. 8:6, 16, 17). Nothing more is heard of Titus until the interval between Paul’s Roman imprisonments. From Crete, where he was engaged in the organization of the churches, he was summoned to Nicopolis (Titus 3:12). From Nicopolis he probably went to Dalmatia (2 Tim. 4:10).

HISTORICAL SITUATION

Paul had been on the Island of Crete and had left Titus behind to “amend what was defective” (1:5) and to complete the organization of the churches. At the time of writing he is apparently on his travels. With him are Artemas, Tychicus, Zenas, and Apollos. The former two are being sent by Paul to Crete to relieve Titus of his work there, while the latter two—the probable bearers of the letter—are commencing a journey which would bring them past Crete. The purpose of the letter is to give Titus instructions in his ministerial work and to prepare him to join Paul at Nicopolis.

Manifestly it is impossible to fit Paul’s historical situation as revealed here into the history recorded in Acts. The only adequate solution is to posit two imprisonments with a period of freedom in between.

The probable date is circa A.D. 63. There is no indication of the place from which the letter was written. Macedonia is suggested by some. This would be consistent with Paul’s plan to winter at Nicopolis. Others suggest Corinth. Apollos—if this is the same person as the one mentioned in Titus—had been in Corinth (Acts 19:1) and was originally from Alexandria (Acts 18:24). Crete lies in a direct line between Corinth and Alexandria.

OUTLINE

I. Salutation 1:1–4.

II. The Appointment of Elders and Their Qualifications 1:5–10.

III. False Teachers 1:11–16.

IV. Christian Living 2:1–10.

A. Older People 2:1–3.

B. Younger People 2:4–8.

C. Slaves 2:9, 10.

V. The Theological Grounds for Christian Living 2:11–15.

VI. The Christian and Those Outside 3:1–7.

VII. Closing Injunctions 3:8–11.

VIII. Personal Requests 3:12–15.

CONTENTS

The Epistles to Titus reveals the following emphases:

1. High standards for church leaders. Paul had not stayed long enough on the Island of Crete to complete the organization of the churches. This responsibility thus fell into Titus’ hands. He is instructed to appoint in every town, elders (a term synonymous with “bishops,” compare 1:5 with 1:7) who must meet certain spiritual standards (1:6–8). This was all the more important because Cretans had notorious reputations (1:12). The list of qualifications parallels the one found in 1 Timothy 3:1–7, with a few divergences. The standards are high, as the words “blameless,” “upright,” “holy,” and “self-controlled” indicate.

Paul singles out Titus himself in 2:7 and reminds him that he too must show himself in all respects “a model of good deeds.” With church leadership goes exemplary conduct.

In addition to good moral character, elders are to have a good grasp of Christian doctrine, both for the purpose of instructing believers and of confuting false teachers (1:10). Paul insists that the leadership of the church must be both spiritually and theologicaly sound.

2. Sound doctrine. The importance of sound doctrine arises out of the presence of false teachers in the churches of Crete. That the influence of these was widespread is indicated by Paul’s statement in 1:11: “they are upsetting whole families.”

Whatever precisely its nature, the false teaching against which Paul addresses himself had a strong Jewish element in it. He speaks of the “circumcision party” (1:10), “Jewish myths” (1:14), and “quarrels over the law” (3:9). The false teachers are described as “insubordinate men, empty talkers, and deceivers” (1:10) who are teaching for “base gain what they have no right to teach” (1:11). The seriousness of the situation is underscored by Paul’s quotation of Epimenides’ evaluation of Cretan character: “liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons” (1:12)—an evaluation confirmed by the Greek verb cretizein which means “to lie.” Paul himself, apparently by personal experience, also confirms Epimenides’ judgment of Cretans (1:13).

Vigorous action is suggested against these false teachers. They must be silenced (1:11): Paul does not specify how, but presumably by the teaching of sound doctrine (1:9). They are to be rebuked (1:13), and if one of their number does not respond after being admonished once or twice, Titus is to have “nothing more to do with him” (3:10).

The Epistle to Titus reveals with what great concern Paul viewed false teaching in the church and how anxious he was for sound doctrine. The modern church would do well to emulate Paul in these matters. A. M. Hunter writes: “It is easy to make jokes about ‘sound doctrine’ and to poke fun at the ultra-orthodox. But in a world like ours where so many non-Christian philosophies compete for men’s allegiance and so many attempts are made to undermine the Faith, who can deny the need for ‘sound doctrine’?” (Introducing the New Testament, p. 155).

3. Practical Christian living. In contrast to the disobedient and detestable lives of the false teachers, Christians are exhorted to practice good deeds. Paul’s exhortations are addressed to various groups in the churches. Older men are to reveal special qualities of Christian living consistent with age and experience (2:2). Older women are to assume the responsibilities that attend their new position in the Gospel. These include the proper instruction of the younger women who might be tempted to take advantage of their new-found freedom and bring discredit to the Faith (2:3–5). To younger men Paul has but one exhortation: “control yourselves” (2:6). Slaves are to accept their lot, work hard, be honest and loyal. By so doing they adorn (kosmein—a word used of the setting of a jewel) the doctrine of God (2:9, 10). Exemplary living, even on the part of a slave, enhances the Gospel.

Paul’s instructions to Christians in their relationship to those outside is given in 3:1, 2. The teaching is similar to that found in Romans 13, namely, the Christian is to submit to and obey the authorities in a spirit of gentleness and courtesy.

Paul’s attitude in the whole area of Christian living is summarized in 3:8: “I desire you to insist on these things, so that they who have believed in God may be careful to apply themselves to good deeds.”

Ethics, however, must have a theological basis. There is a close and inseparable relationship between right living and right believing, between ethics and theology. This Paul stresses in a classic passage on the grace of God (2:11–14). God’s grace which brings salvation is the pre-requisite to godly living. It teaches the Christian discipleship and affords him the “blessed hope” (assurance, not mere wish) of the coming of Jesus Christ. It was the purpose of Christ’s redemptive work to create a people cleansed of sin and zealous for good works.

LITERATURE

The best most recent commentaries on Titus (these treat of the other two Pastorals also) are by E. K. Simpson (1954) and D. Guthrie (1957). The former is based on the Greek text and brings to bear much classical learning to the exegesis of the text. The latter is one of the almost uniformly excellent commentaries in the Tyndale Series and is particularly valuable for its discussion of Harrison’s views. Of the older commentaries Fairbairn (1874), a little known work, Plummer in the Expositor’s Bible (1888), Bernard in the Cambridge Greek Testament (1899), Parry (1920), and Lock in the International Critical Commentary (1924) are all valuable. Harrison, The Problem of the Pastorals (1921), Scott in the Moffatt New Testament Commentary (1936), and Gealy in The Interpreter’s Bible (1955) all deny the Pauline authorship. Recently two significant articles on the bearing of the linguistic phenomena of the Pastorals to the problem of authorship have appeared: Bruce Metzger’s “A Reconsideration of Certain Arguments Against the Pauline Authorship of the Pastoral Epistles,” Expository Times, LXX (Dec. 1958), pp. 91–94, and K. Grayston’s and G. Herdan’s “The Authorship of the Pastorals in the Light of Statistical Linguistics,” New Testament Studies, VI (Oct. 1959), pp. 1–15.

WALTER W. WESSEL

Professor of New Testament

North American Baptist Seminary

CHANGE OF MIND

We are pleased to announce a symposium of significance. Three noteworthy correspondents reply to the query, “How has your mind changed in the last ten years?” This sampling is unique, since inquiries of this sort are usually made at the end of a calendar decade. Our correspondents, however, go on changing their minds year in and year out, and they had no objection to surveying an odd decade.

Several women were included in our query, but they did not find the question significant. The exercise of the feminine prerogative in mind-changing makes a decade an inappropriate measure.

PROFESSOR GRUNDGELEHRT:

The past decade marks the fifth Copernican revolution in my thought. The tenth book of volume three of my Summa Contra Theologiam introduces a new moment which is my last word and therefore also my first word. Without describing the potentiation of the dialectic which unfolds this position, I can only say that I have broken decisively with the last traces of Neogrundgelehrtianism. My total work must now be understood as my Nein! to Grundgelehrtian speculation. (cf. footnote 423, pp. 7–206).

DR. EUGENE IVY:

Your intriguing question suggests a glacial intellect, whose movement must be measured in decades. To be frank, I have no idea now what ideas I had ten years ago. Indeed, that may have been my depth-analysis period when I was immersed in a stream of unconsciousness and had no ideas whatever. In any case change is the one constant for an open, liberal mind. During the last ten days, for example, I have come to see the limitations of any rigid or doctrinaire approach to intrapersonal relations. Never again will I attempt small group dynamics with the Ladies’ Aid. Fresh from that experience, I have also reappraised the place of permissiveness in child training. Just last night I spanked Gene for the first time. Of course my basic commitment has not changed. In relation to the shifting ecclesiastical scene I have found it helpful to describe myself as either a conservative liberal or a liberal conservative, but my conviction as to the ultimacy of the absolute has been unwavering.

SENATOR B. B. FUDDLE:

In ten years my platform has grown with America. My campaign promises have kept pace with the inflationary spiral, and they are as good today as the day they were first made. My mind has not changed on a single issue affecting my constituents and their votes. The only change on my record was made this month. My name is now Brian Bannon McFuddle, my tribute to America’s Irish heritage.

EUTYCHUS

BULTMANN IN THE WINTER

I have recommended your “Wintertime” series as the best analysis of neo-orthodoxy … I have read in recent times and as the best demonstration why it cannot preserve conservative theology.

J. T. MUELLER

Concordia Seminary

St. Louis, Mo.

Your stimulating editorial “Has Winter Come Again” reminded me that in an address to the Baptist clergy of Washington three or four years back I suggested that a basic simplification of trends had occurred in American theology in the past decade or so. Two trends, I went on, were now manifest and were in process of attracting to them and assimilating various schools and views. One was neo-fundamentalism and the other a post-Barthian species of existentialism.

To a considerable degree biblical problems are reflected in both of these main currents, though philosophical factors, especially the issue of how we encounter the Divine, are not without influence in the latter case. The two leading theologians of our generation in this country, Reinhold Niebuhr and Paul Tillich, were never Barthians and there is considerable question as to how accurately the term neo-orthodox applies to them. In many respects they seem to have been rather exponents of neo-liberalism. Yet they have raised for theology in the liberal orbit the relevance of ancient and classic doctrines from the standpoint of meaning and experience.

This is the drive of theological existentialism as it is popularized increasingly in American pulpits and in the dialogues of discussion and conversation. It becomes a new version of religious experientialism. The defect and peril of this approach to Christian truth, as you recognize, lie in what it does to the central reality of the Bible and the Christian Gospel which is the living God active both in history and in personal address to individual men and women.…

CHARLES WESLEY LOWRY

Treasurer

American Theological Society

Washington, D. C.

Bultmann’s effort to get rid of biblical supernaturalism is due to a corrupting of his mind by European naturalistic philosophy.

HAROLD PAUL SLOAN

Browns Mills, N. J.

With “Bultmann as King” we are nearing the final bankruptcy of the liberal, the neo-orthodox and the neo-liberal scholarship of theology. One thing is sure, only a genuine revived supernatural Protestantism will be able to stem the tide of world-sweeping “hard-fisted naturalism of Communism ideology.”

PETER F. WALL

Faith Community Church

Palmdale, Calif.

Bultmann appeared already in 1953 to be attracting more attention than Brunner and even than Barth in Germany. I personally suspect, with von Balthazar, that this is temporary, and that Bultmann’s radical de-supernaturalizing of Christianity will not, over the long haul, be the theology of this era.

LEWIS B. SMEDES

Calvin College

Grand Rapids, Mich.

Your remarks on Bultmann remind me of the quatrain, originally from some British source, quoted several years ago in Time:

“Hark!” the herald angels sing;

“Bultmann is the coming thing!”

At least they would if he had not

Demythologized the lot.

EDWARD A. JOHNSON

Dongola Lutheran Parish, U.L.C.A.

Dongola, Ill.

“Evangelical” does not mean conservative, orthodox, Bible-centered, fundamental, or any of the other meanings you persist in giving it. It is not synonymous to peculiar strains of Reformed churches or is it descriptive of your magazine’s brand of true faith.

J. GORDON SWANSON

Grace Lutheran

Aurora, Ill.

I know of at least one brilliant neo-orthodox pastor that has been brought around to a conservative approach in his ministry because of the fine apologetical articles found consistently in your magazine.

HAROLD BURDICK

Sawyer Evangelical United Brethren

Bradford, Pa.

CONTEMPORARY ART

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR CONCISE AND PENETRATING CRITICISM OF CONTEMPORARY ART. YOUR EDITORIAL (DEC. 5 ISSUE) SAYS SYMPATHETICALLY AND SUCCINCTLY WHAT OTHERS HAVE SAID IN LENGTHY TREATISES BUT WITH NO GREATER EFFECTIVENESS.

OLIVER C. RUPPRECHT

CONCORDIA COLLEGE

MILWAUKEE, WISC.

IN THE PAST TENSE

I have read with pleasure Mr. Hollington Tong’s article (Nov. 7 issue). However … he mentions … “Elizabeth Hospital in Shanghai—a Baptist institution.” The only Christian institution in Shanghai with a similar name was (I wish I could say “is”) St. Elizabeth’s Hospital on Avenue Road and that was an Episcopal hospital.…

MONTGOMERY H. THROOP

South Orange, N. J.

THE FIRST ADAM

The news report “The Adam Question” (Dec. 5 issue) calls for some comment.… The pamphleteers do not, and cannot, prove that the report of the commission in any way revised our creedal statements.… Indiscriminate circularizing presents only one side of a matter, and makes for difficult circumstances and emotional atmosphere for dispassionate study and rebuttal.…

VICTOR BUCCI

First Reformed Church of Astoria

Astoria, New York

CANTERBURY AND EDINBURGH

I was interested to read Mr. Farrell’s article “Scotland Celebrates its Reformation.” Perhaps your readers might care to know of recent developments in connection with the Scottish celebrations.

The Scots most courteously invited the Church of England to join with them on this great occasion. Unfortunately the atitude of the Scottish Episcopalians (representing only a little over one per cent of all Scotland) prevented the Archbishop of Canterbury accepting this, and he felt able to do no more than send a Dean as his personal representative.…

It needs to be made clear that not all Anglicans are tied to an unreformed and Tractarian view of episcopacy. A small but vociferous group in the Church of England holds this unAnglican view, and some of its members are senior dignitaries, but I venture to think most Anglicans would not favour it. Certainly the Church of England has never been officially committed to it.

GERVASE E. DUFFIELD

Cambridge, England

OBERAMMERGAU MEMORIES

Dr. Kuhn’s article on Oberammergau (Nov. 7 issue) brought back memories of thirty years ago. My wife and I, newly married, were leaving by train after having seen “the play.” To both of us it had been a most moving experience, never to be forgotten.

In the compartment with us were three adults from New York who immediately started talking and were most anxious to know if we thought it would stir up anti-Semitic feeling. It was not for some time that I realized they were Jews. So my replies were accordingly not biased—I told them that honestly we had not thought of the characters as Jews at all—we had only too clearly seen “ourselves” in the portrayal.

It seems strange that now 30 years later the same question should be asked. Where do these questioners put themselves (and their consciences!) when they witness this great drama and tragedy … so continuously repeated in every human life?

WALLACE E. CONKLING

Bishop of Chicago, Ret.

Vero Beach, Fla.

Last in a Series

German theology has not wholly lacked significant criticism of neo-orthodoxy. From a quite biblical perspective, such criticism strikes two blows: first, it deplores the theological deviation of the dialectical theologians, and second, it laments the evangelistic sterility resulting from their arbitrary conceptions of divine love. Largely, although not entirely, the burden of constructive theological criticism has been borne by the confessional churches; the evangelistic concern has been kept alive mainly, although not exclusively, by the German Evangelical Alliance.

THEOLOGICAL CRITICISM

We often forget that classic liberal theology never really enlisted an overwhelming number of the German clergy. Even before Barth, liberal theologians were a small minority, but a minority that wielded great influence, even among and over the “positive” theologians. The latter, in their support of the state church’s Bund von Thron und Altar, unwittingly tended also to adopt liberalism’s leading thesis, that religion is simply the crown of cultural life. In this ambiguous situation dialectical theology could voice a necessary criticism of both liberal and positive theologies.

Certain conservative forces have nonetheless exercised a long and significant influence to the right of Barth and Brunner. In university cities, of course, the prevalent theological fashion, whatever its mood, often comes swiftly to dominate the local ministerial outlook. But elsewhere the theological perspective of the German clergy often is quite diversified, and frequently more biblically oriented than ecumenical discussions indicate, and than contemporary analyses of theological trends acknowledge.

In the main, the Bible-centered emphasis reaches back to Philipp Spener (1635–1705) and August Francke (1663–1727), founders of the Pietistic movement. This emphasis was best carried forward by Johann Albrecht Bengel (1687–1752), who aimed to unite Pietism with scientific theology. Johann Tobias Beck (1804–1878), who sought to base all doctrine on the Bible, became probably the most important representative of this strictly biblical school of theology in the nineteenth century. Adolf Schlatter (1852–1938), who championed a Scripture-controlled point of view (even if sometimes shaded by personal notions), aggressively extended this tradition’s influence.

Even in the heyday of twentieth century liberalism, the evangelical view was here and there vigorously championed. Theodore Zahn (1838–1933), spokesman for the conservatives in New Testament criticism, completed his great study of the New Testament Canon after retirement from Erlangen, regarded as Germany’s conservative Lutheran faculty. Hermann Sasse, from 1933 to 1948 professor of church history, left Erlangen in theological protest and joined the Lutheran Free Church. One might also mention Wilhelm Oesch of Oberursel, whose Theologischer Rundblick (“Theological Review”) has been directed against neo-orthodoxy and liberalism with equal force.

Grounded in such conservative history, pietistic clergymen have circumvented the dialectical and existential positions. Instinctively shying from critical theories, and relying directly upon biblical sources rather than upon contemporary theological conviction, small groups of devout believers maintain an existence in almost all denominations—in the so-called official or territorial churches no less than in the free churches.

Conservative theological leadership today comes less from Pietistic than from Lutheran and Reformed sources. At the present time Adolph Koeberle of Tuebingen, Ernst Kinder and Karl Rengstorf of Muenster, Edmund Schlink of Heidelberg, and Otto Weber of Goettingen, are among those influential in a conservative direction. While Helmut Thielicke of Hamburg is perhaps not as conservative in his views, his opposition to Barthianism nonetheless is well known, and he has taken an increasingly conservative course.

THE PIETISTIC MOOD

In many cases “the faithful remnant” in the Protestant churches has adopted a pietistic outlook alongside its simple devotion to the Bible. It is this remnant that retains a live concern for personal soul-winning and evangelism which contemporary theology seems to dissolve in many of the so-called “dogmatically alert” churches. These pietistic fellowships demand a “theology of decision” centering in biblical evangelism. The life of the Christian community is “immediately related to Christ and the Bible” as its source; a quite secondary role (and sometimes an attitude of disdain) is reserved for schematic theology. It is held that the Church “lives by faith, not by theology,” and that theology is “the product of faith.”

The Pietists therefore think that, by constantly urging personal decision for Christ, they overcome the deviations from biblical doctrine of Barth, Brunner, and Bultmann before such influences register. But this deliverance is accomplished more by the Pietistic movement’s theological isolationism than by its theological strength. The movement still perpetuates a tendency given it already in Spener’s time—the shift of emphasis from orthodox doctrine to the practical life, from the objective validity of Christian revelation to the subjective conditions of regeneration. By their one-sided recognition and emphasis that regenerating faith in Christ and some serious doctrinal errors may co-exist side by side, some Pietists unwittingly tolerate the perversion of theology.

VIEWS OF THE BIBLE

In discussions of the theological presuppositions that now govern their preaching, German ministers soon disclose their dissatisfaction over any reduction of these tenets to the views of Barth, Brunner, or Bultmann. In German preaching as a whole, one finds greater loyalty to biblical teaching than might be expected either from the ecumenical dialogue, the theological standpoint of the divinity schools, or from current religious literature. For many Protestant clergymen, Karl Barth’s word to a World Council of Churches conference in January, 1947, at Bossey, still bristles with relevance: “The ecumenical unity of the churches and of their theologians is either a truth or an illusion, according to whether or not they accept the authority of the Bible.”

This is not to say that the German pulpit is consciously Bible-controlled; far from it. In fact, sometimes the clash with Bultmann no less than with Barth and Brunner is softened by a disposition to regard the modern scientific world-view as authoritative, and scriptural references to the cosmic order as fallible. That is, some Bible-preaching pastors simply assume that Scripture deals only with salvation and has no significance whatever for science. The legitimate emphasis that the authority of the Bible rests only on Jesus Christ himself is so twisted by others as to deprive the Bible as such of authoritative significance; the declaration Thus saith the Scripture! is used merely to introduce its “witness.” In such circumstances, the uneasiness of the clergy over an emphatic Thus saith the Lord! is not surprising. While the emphasis of Martin Kahler (1835–1912) is reiterated that Holy Scripture has its authority as the source of the preaching through which the apostles founded the Church, the fact that Scripture also supplied an authoritative basis of their preaching is neglected. The plight of German theology and preaching alike relates directly to this compromise of an authoritative Bible.

Theological faculties attached to the universities provide scant support for the high theory of the Bible’s divine inspiration still accorded considerable scholarly approval both in England and in America. For a high view of Scripture one must usually turn to seminaries of the German free churches or to Bible institutes sponsored mainly by American missions. Nonetheless, university professors outside the divinity faculties here and there may be ranked with the conservative forces in opposing higher criticism. From all fields of learning the German Inter-Varsity movement has banded together a company of biblically-oriented scholars firmly dedicated to evangelical positions.

THE BURDEN FOR EVANGELISM

The European continent is today in transition not only in theology but, equally urgent, in evangelism. Earlier in this century, evangelistic ministries had left a mark upon both the German state church and upon the free churches. Names like Fritz Binde (the socialist-atheist converted around 1900), Samuel Kellar, Jacok Vedder, Johannes Warns, Wilhelm Busch, and others are unknown to most Americans; it is such men, however, who have made signal evangelistic contributions to the religious life of the Continent.

The practical consequences of neo-orthodox theology are under searching scrutiny. Except for its courageous stand against National Socialism, for which the old liberalism lacked spiritual resources, the consequences of dialectical theology for both evangelism and social ethics in the main have been disappointing. In the social sphere, Barth’s and Brunner’s divergent views of the relationship of love and justice have led more to spirited debate over questions of law and order than to concerted action. Some technical discussions among élite lay leaders have grappled with theoretical aspects of the problem of social justice, but this hardly adds up to a demonstration of Christian social ethics in the practical arena.

DULLING THE URGENCY OF DECISION

In any event, the neo-orthodox approach to the social dilemma has not issued in a renewed sense of responsibility for evangelism by the Church. Barthian theology, with its universalistic tendency of viewing all men as already included in Christ, dissolves the necessity for personal decision as a condition of salvation. Simultaneously, Brunner’s dogmatics, with its thesis of universal grace that creates a “second chance” of forgiveness after death, destroys the absolute necessity of receiving Christ in this life.

The secular press has commented that the spectacular mass interest in Evangelist Billy Graham’s crusades demonstrates the spiritual hunger of the multitudes. Of this vacuum many professional theologians and clergymen are only now becoming aware. Graham’s proclamation of the utter indispensability of the new birth, and of this life as the only arena of decision for man’s destiny in eternity, has rallied hundreds of thousands to a fresh hearing of the Gospel, has attracted many thousands in personal response to the call to repentance and faith, and is promoting a new sense of evangelistic urgency among the German clergy. While contemporary theologians pursue theological discussions at abstruse technical levels, promote a critical stance toward Scripture, and shape arbitrary conceptions of divine agape, countless German laborers, businessmen, housewives, and young people have heard the Gospel in simple New Testament dimensions and have experienced new life in Christ.

What happened in Graham’s 1960 crusades in Switzerland and Germany was far more significant than the secular press could possibly proclaim. In Graham’s Berlin meeting for students that attracted 25,000 young people, governmental leaders had evidence that German youth is searching the moral and religious dimension in new depth. Police in Hamburg, Germany’s second city, night after night estimated an overflow congregation outside that equalled the capacity throng inside the huge crusade tent. No longer could the Protestant clergy shun the comments of laymen who deplored the aridity of the churches, and the unintelligibility of much preaching, as contrasted with the vitality of the crusades and the power of the simple Gospel to win the lost. As more or less of a permanent reservoir in the churches, the Graham crusades left behind thousands of soul-winners and counselors alive with spiritual concern.

CONCERN IN BOTH CAMPS

It was the loose-knit German Evangelical Alliance which carried much of the evangelistic burden for Germany. This movement has solidified evangelical forces while resisting the dissipating effect of theologically inclusive programs. One observer assesses the ecclesiastical situation thus: “The Ecumenical Movement tries to get the churches together; the Evangelical Alliance tries to get the believers together.” Its leaders describe the Alliance as “a unity of the awakened Christians who believe in John 3:3.” It was this Alliance, without benefit of structural organization or salaried staff, that invited Graham to Germany for the 1960 crusades. Three of the movement’s leaders in fact pledged themselves personally to cover the 600,000 marks required to underwrite the huge tents for the meetings. Success of the 1960 crusades, however, disclosed far more than simply surprise of the territorial churches over the vitality of the Alliance. Evident was a growing burden for evangelism by “second generation” clergy who are more and more convinced that baptism and confirmation as outward acts are not determinate for Christian identification. As a result, the debate over the necessity for evangelistic decision does far more than simply demarcate the free from the territorial churches, for evangelistic concern now runs through both groups. The 1960 Graham crusades, in fact, had strategic personal support even at the bishops’ level in the territorial churches, including Bishop Hanns Lilje and Bishop Otto Dibelius.

THE THEOLOGY OF EVANGELISM

The need for a theology of evangelism, or put another way, for a genuinely and thoroughly evangelical theology, stems from the crisis facing evangelism in Germany. The emphasis on personal decision finds resistance for diverse reasons. Even where arbitrary views of agape are not propounded, some ministers regard the call to open or public decision as objectionably weighted with emotional appeal; or as schematizing religious decision too much in accord with mass techniques; or as ignoring the invisibility of faith and thereby inviting to potentially harmful psychological response.

Doubtless such objections can be leveled also against other types of evangelism, and even against evangelism as such, if not against fervent preaching. Most evangelists do not, however, insist that mass evangelism is the only or even the best means of soul-winning. Rather they declare that lack of local church evangelism has made mass evangelism necessary. At long last, even the World Council of Churches has recognized mass evangelism as legitimate. Where evangelism is absent at the local level, the impression can only grow that objections spring not merely from a criticism of mass evangelism, but from a lack of enthusiasm for evangelism as a whole. The liberal theology of the forepart of the century shaped a distrust of regeneration as a social change agent, and the reliance instead on political dynamisms has carried over into some expressions of neo-orthodoxy.

Whatever potential dangers may accompany any form of organized soul-winning, multitudes unquestionably are finding Christ through the avenue of mass evangelism. A hunger to make open commitment to Christ exists among many persons now denied such opportunity in their local church services. Lost in throngs and masses, the modern man looks to the Church both to sharpen his sense of personal responsibility and to confront him with the necessity for personal decision. Is it too much to expect the Church to provide opportunity for such decision? In the aftermath of the 1960 Graham crusades, many German ministers are asking this very question.

Samuel M. Shoemaker is the author of a number of popular books and the gifted Rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in Pittsburgh. He is known for his effective leadership of laymen and his deeply spiritual approach to all vital issues.

Of recent articles concerning the clergy of the Deep South, some have been instructive and informative, others have been neither. Even the most helpful of articles have shown little appreciation of the real situation that is faced by the clergy of the Deep South.

A historian who has devoted his life to the history of the South remarked recently that it was difficult for him to read the southern daily papers and remember that he was reading contemporary newspapers, so closely did they resemble papers of Richmond in 1844. Unless we appreciate the mood of the South in these days, we can hardly evaluate accurately the crisis facing the clergy there.

Both liberals and conservatives in the South are facing dilemmas that call for basic revaluation of ideas which in another generation seemed sound. It should not be assumed that the liberal is the only one meeting new and soul-searching problems amidst the bombings, boycotts, and court rulings. (It seems that most of the clergy of the Deep South are facing winds that put new parts in their hair.) As one who assumes that the clergy of the Deep South are no better and no worse than the other clergy of America, I should like to share some of the conclusions I have drawn from a study of the situation in Alabama, before the Deep South clergy are read out of the Church as “liberals who have no concept of sin” or as “hopeless mossbacks.”

CHURCH AND STATE

The relationship of Church and State poses the most agonizing situation which the southern clergy of any theological stripe have to face. In their present attitudes toward the problem of Church and State, conservatives and liberals have switched camps. Fortresses formerly manned by the liberals are now defended by the conservatives. Ideas long considered hallowed by conservatives are now given new life by liberals, but for a different reason. Confusion is enhanced by the fact that the federal government and the local government are making demands of the citizens of the Deep South which are diametrically opposed. The federal government says to the South “integrate,” and sends troops to show that it means business. State and local governments say “remain segregated,” and send police to show that they mean business. Religion, which is theoretically a cohesive agent in a state, must now decide for whom it will be a cohesive agent.

Southern Baptist and other more conservative groups have long and ceaselessly advocated the absolute separation of Church and State, particularly as it relates to public education. Yet when the public schools were closed in Arkansas, it was the Southern Baptist churches that first allowed their church buildings to be used for schools. Although it seems that the Baptists have accepted no state money for their schools, they have accepted money which was in part raised by the pleas of state officials. Methodists, who have long defended the public schools, now find themselves, in Alabama at least, in the school business open to the public. Most clergy of the Deep South recognize that local church budgets and solicited gifts are not sufficient to operate good schools. Moreover, they recognize that the end of public schools in the South is a very real possibility. The natural reserve which the clergy feel about the church entering an area it has historically considered the domain of the state is intensified because they are aware that Roman Catholics in the South already have in operation schools that would take the Protestants years and millions of dollars to match. It seems, at least in theory, that any attempt to provide state funds for church schools would be opposed by every major Protestant group. Yet, so far as I know, there have been few if any significant protests from the clergy concerning the possibility of the church expanding its function in public education. Both traditionally and presently, the clergy of the Deep South have advocated the separation of Church and State. It seems that in these tense days there has been no significant change in sentiment, and yet the clergy face pressure from lay groups requesting the use of churches for schools—or, in other words, the assumption by the church of a function historically ascribed to the state. This is one dilemma the clergy of the Deep South face in their theoretical conception of the state.

CONCEPT OF LAW

Another perplexing problem for southern clergy is the necessity for change in the concept of law by both liberals and conservatives. Liberals who vigorously fought segregation when it was the “law of the land” are now pressing for integration on the ground that it is the “law of the land.” Liberals who once opposed the use of the Justice Department to prevent unions are now in sympathy with the use of the Justice Department to bring about integration. Some who have disobeyed and encouraged others to disobey the draft laws are now commending to people the “law of the land.” Furthermore, the plea to obey the law of the land is complicated in that the South faces two laws of the land—that of the federal government and that of the local government. Liberals are faced with the dilemma that their plea to obey the law of the land per se makes the claim of state laws as legitimate as the claims of federal government. Liberals also realize that violence is the order of the day if federal laws are to be enforced in the South. They seem increasingly aware that they have developed no concept of law to meet the present crisis, and yet they feel that the federal law has a claim on the South in the segregation-integration controversy.

When the conservatives have faced the problem of two laws that are diametrically opposed, they too have offered their allegiance without reference to a philosophy of law. Thus, without a philosophy of law, both liberal and conservative face a predicament when confronted by the necessity for practical decision in a section where the social core is being threatened.

PROFESSIONAL ASPIRATION

When an able man such as Representative Brooks Hays, congressman, and president of the Southern Baptist Convention, is defeated by a “write-in” vote by a man whose major qualification for office is his claim to be “an ardent segregationist,” the situation indicates the professional insecurity that even moderates face in the political arena. The clergy’s position is equally precarious. Men of every denomination have been forced to leave the South in recent months to find work in less tense areas. Not long ago, ministers of two of the largest congregations of their denomination, one a Methodist and the other a Presbyterian, were forced to leave Alabama because of their comments about segregation. An interracial group which only a short time ago had an attendance of 150, mostly clergy, is reported to have had at a recent meeting an attendance of ten, none of whom were white clergy. Though professional aspiration was only one factor involved in this decline in attendance, it seems to have been an important one.

One must realize that the background and education of many of the clergy of the Deep South make it impossible for them to compete at a significant level for pastorates in other parts of the country. Even those with superior education and ability do not qualify to join the caste of “conference jumpers.” Marx had his Engels to support him and his family. Winstanley could rely upon his “diggers.” Lilburne could count on the support of the small merchants of London. Martin Luther could rely upon the support of the princes. Martin Luther King can rely upon the Negroes of Montgomery and interested parties all over America. But the average minister of the Deep South would be forced to leave the ministry if he became “undesirable.”

Many of the clergy of the South face the dilemma of providing for families acquired long before the present crisis precipitated. Therefore, it is a dilemma for those who both feel they should take part in the revolution but also have professional aspirations as well as the practical necessity of providing for a family.

The quest for professional security also poses acute problems for conservatives who sincerely believe that integration is not only undesirable but wrong. Many of them seem to feel that the freedom of the pulpit is threatened when clergy are punished for their preaching. And few who sympathize with segregation seem willing to use the pulpit to enhance their status. Conservatives face the problem of defending the freedom in the pulpit without being identified with integration.

INSTITUTIONAL MAINTENANCE

The recent failure of the two largest Presbyterian groups in America to unite, and the persistent efforts of southern churchmen to maintain the jurisdictional system in the Methodist Church, offer some indication of the deep-seated sympathy for segregation among southern clergy and laity. That the largest Baptist body in America is still labelled the Southern Baptist Convention further indicates this sympathy.

Clergymen of the Deep South are faced with the task of preaching the Gospel in such a climate and ministering to the people who compose the culture of the South. Furthermore, they face the task important in some circles, of adding members and raising money. Many of the clergy must maintain the church and yet preach a gospel which they feel has something to say about the social order. That they may have to choose between the church they love and the Gospel which called them poses a serious predicament for many.

Where there is tension, there is power. How the Deep South clergy will react in the face of these dilemmas, only God knows.

Samuel M. Shoemaker is the author of a number of popular books and the gifted Rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in Pittsburgh. He is known for his effective leadership of laymen and his deeply spiritual approach to all vital issues.

It is good to see the work of a frankly unrepentant liberal gracing the pages of CHRISTIANITY TODAY, and S. MacLean Gilmour is to be congratulated for his unhyphenated forthrightness (“A New ‘Textus Receptus’?” Sept. 26 issue, pp. 6–10). It was high time that a responsible attack be launched on the Revised Standard Version. And as far as it goes, Professor Gilmour’s attack is a responsible one, but it leaves some problems unsolved.

I take it that two points irritate Professor Gilmour. 1. The National Council of Churches permits the making of exaggerated claims for the success of the RSV. 2. The RSV does not deserve to be what the National Council says it is. On the first point, we may agree. But the second point is hard to sort out of the first in Professor Gilmour’s argument, and it is much the more important point.

Let me comment on Professor Gilmour’s seven objections to “the claim that the RSV is (or ought to be) the English Bible of Protestant Christians.”

1. It is true that in the past new revisions or translations of the Bible have taken time to make their way. Professor Gilmour’s objection, then, seems to say that the RSV is not the Bible of Protestant Christianity because it has not had time to be. This is not an objection; it is a statement of purported fact. Professor Gilmour assumes that new revisions of the Bible ought to be slow to overcome previous versions. But this is something else again. If the RSV is, on the whole, an improvement, should we not rejoice if it makes its way quickly?

2. “The RSV is admittedly a provisional version.” Surely. What version is not? I am disposed to doubt that we will ever have a “definitive translation.” Professor Gilmour seems to think a definitive translation possible if we accomplish “the preparation of a really adequate Greek text of the New Testament” and (in parenthesis) “reconstructing a really adequate Hebrew and Aramaic text of the Old Testament.” But these are staggering tasks! And if we must await the time when biblical scholars happen to come with all the right guesses in them, what will we do in the meantime on Sunday morning? Every translation is provisional. Between now and the time when (presumably in Heaven) all Christians can read Greek and Hebrew, we must be satisfied with the best English version we have.

3. Is the fact that the RSV is a product exclusively of North America really an objection? The real question is, what is the intrinsic worth of the translation? Perhaps a more adequate version will be possible only when an international committee of Protestant, Orthodox, and Roman Catholic scholars can be convened. But that probably will be in Heaven!

4. No one with any literary sense would deny that the language of the RSV does not have the stature of the KJV. I recoil particularly at that terribly uneuphonious “steadfast love.” But the complaint here simply alleges, does it not, that the RSV committee did not go far enough in contemporizing the English. The force of this objection is really that the RSV is not the final translation. And, as I observed just now, no one has said that it is.

5. The KJV certainly has, as Professor Gilmour says, become an integral part of the English language. This does not render it sacrosanct. The KJV revisers intended that the Bible be available in the language of the people. Whether we like it or not, the language of the people today is not seventeenth century English. We simply do not “go unto our friends,” saying, “Hast thou been even unto the ice-cream joint which is over against Main Street?” The perpetuation of that kind of diction as the distinctive language of Protestant Christianity when it is at its distinctive activity of worship goes only to wall off the life of faith from the street and the market place.

Furthermore, the fact that the hearing of the KJV produces an “atmosphere of worship” is totally irrelevant. If worship were simply a matter of atmosphere—and I am certain that it is not—there might be force to the argument. But I have seen too many “atmospheres of worship” generated by the KJV in which the understanding of the scriptural message was totally absent, and the worship no more profound than the calling up of conditioned spiritual reflexes in response to that for which we have “affection.” I am not sure that we are supposed to have “affection” for the Bible at all. A sweet old lady accosted me one time at Union Seminary. “What are you working on?” she wanted to know. When I told her that I was working on Habakkuk, she said, “Oh, I’m very fond of Habakkuk.” And the tone of her voice gave me to understand that she was precisely “fond” of him. Well, I’m not. He shakes me to my roots.

6. Here Professor Gilmour returns to the first point. Says he, the KJV outsells the RSV, and therefore the RSV is not the Bible of Protestantism. I happily accept that. But I keep recalling his earlier statement that the RSV “should not and hopefully will not become the Bible of the English-speaking world” (italics his). He really wants to say, then, that it will be a black day if the RSV ever outsells the KJV. I object to this. Surely the Greek text behind the RSV New Testament, eclectic though it may be, is a better text than that lying behind the KJV. We should not be satisfied with a lesser product if a better one is at hand.

7. I feel that Professor Gilmour’s last objection is no different from the sixth. Again we say “Amen” to the assertion that official preference for the RSV does not mean grass-roots adoption of it. But again we must disagree with the reason why the statement is made.

I hope it is clear that I do not argue that the RSV is the best translation we could have. I am willing to grant many criticisms of it from all kinds of sources.

But I will not grant that because the RSV is not the perfect translation, it should not be used as it is being used. I hope it will be used even more. Why? I have already suggested some of the reasons. The RSV rests on a better reconstruction of the text than does the KJV. It is closer to an idiom “understanded of the people” than is the KJV. It is the work of a group of scholars representing a wide variety of denominations. Therefore it has a far greater claim to use in public worship than the Moffatt translation, referred to by Professor Gilmour. Moffatt’s one-man job is a good and competent translation. But a translation is always also an interpretation. The one-man translations represent the honest convictions of a single scholar regarding the interpretation of the text. The committee translation, on the other hand, with all its faults (someone said that a camel is “a horse designed by a committee”), represents that submission of the individual scholar’s convictions to the scrutiny of the Church which is the hallmark of genuine Christian scholarship. As the KJV in its day represented a consensus of Christian scholarship as to the meaning of the biblical text, the RSV in our day represents a consensus of Christian scholarship, a scholarship technically better equipped than the scholarship of the early seventeenth century.

The RSV is not, emphatically, the best possible translation. We may hope for a better one. But let us not expect too much; no translation of the Bible into English will ever be more than a provisional translation. The question we must ask of any translation is whether it is a good one. The RSV is a good one, in many ways demonstrably better than the KJV. The KJV may in some sense be “the noblest monument of English prose.” To that we say: 1. that many monuments belong in graveyards; 2. that the English prose of the seventeenth century is not alive in the twentieth; 3. that we may be sure that the revisers of the KJV committee fully expected, indeed hoped, that their work would be superseded.

Samuel M. Shoemaker is the author of a number of popular books and the gifted Rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in Pittsburgh. He is known for his effective leadership of laymen and his deeply spiritual approach to all vital issues.

For several decades the subject of special revelation has been focal in theological discussion. The basic issue, implied or stated, in recent theological structures is precisely the question, how are we to understand God’s specific self-disclosure? Those who have rejected the historic evangelical position, with its sola scriptura, sola fides, solus Christus, despite varying degrees of dogmatism, betray an astonishing degree of fluctuation and hesitancy, gyratings and revisions.

Some have commended modern theology for its “dynamic” nature in contrast with the “static” doctrine of the “traditionalists.” The emphasis on new “insights” into truth frequently recurs in modern theologies. But it is one thing to move, another to be sure where you are going. Much modern theology is restless and lacks a fixed center; it is on the march, but unsure of its destination.

It is difficult to describe some contemporary views on revelation with exactness, not only because these newer theological reconstructions insistently deny all finality but because of the delight expressed by exponents over the disagreements among each other. The basic differences between Barth and Brunner are well known. Brunner accused Barth of inconsistency. Although Barth professes to repudiate intellectualism in theology, his writings are vitiated, Brunner insists, by an unconscious philosophy which ends in biblical monism. Barth retorts that Brunner welcomes at the back door (in the form of general revelation) the intellectualism he has cast out at the front door. With both and between themselves Tillich and Niebuhr disagree. Tillich writes of the “many theological disputes” he has had with his “great friend” Niebuhr. Niebuhr maintains that an indebtedness to Greek intellectualistic thought was necessary so that Christianity might convincingly adapt itself to prevailing views. This was a missionary requisite. Tillich denies the legitimacy of this type of intellectualism and insists, in opposition, that Greek thought was not in fact rationalistic but mystical.” Brunner states that the label “neo-orthodox” is unfortunate and really inapplicable to Niebuhr since “there is nothing more unorthodox than the spiritual volcano Reinhold Niebuhr.” He prefers therefore to call him a “radical-Protestant.” Then there is Bultmann, the new monarch in the theological arena, who, according to Brunner, “thins out the Gospel too much.” In the midst of such cross discussion, the student of contemporary theology must be forgiven if he finds agreement in high places hard to discover.

One thing, however, is certain. Behind these modern ideas of revelation stand a deliberate renunciation of the “traditional” doctrine and a departure from what the Church has from the first believed concerning special revelation. From time to time, assuredly, advocates of one or other of the current ideas seek to justify the newer position by claiming that theirs is the historic teaching of the Church. Such a claim, made by Gore in his day and by Hebert at the present, need not be taken seriously. To call their opponents “traditionalists” and then to castigate them as modern is, to say the least, very inconsistent.

As the late John Baillie says in the opening of his book The Idea of Revelation in Recent Thought, the fundamental question of all theological reconstructions is “What do we mean by revelation?” This, he says, “is a question to which much hard thinking and careful writing are being devoted in our time, and there is a general awareness among us that it is being answered in a way that sounds very different from traditional formulations.”

THREE MODERN PRONGS

Broadly, those who take up positions opposed to “traditional formulations” fall into three groups. There are the older theological liberals, the neo-orthodox, and the modern Protestant radicals.

In some quarters a surprising number of thinkers adhere still to the first of these ideas. The view, deriving from Schleiermacher, puts emphasis upon the immanence of God and upon personal experience as the method of revelation and as the ground of religious authority. In the context of these notions God is sought in the depths of man’s consciousness and he is regarded as the “near Ally,” not as the “great Alien.” In his fundamental nature, man is not cut off from the Infinite. Clouded and strained by man’s folly and ignorance though the divine may be, yet it still subsists and persists. The native God-consciousness needs but to be awakened and then man will rise upon the steppingstones of his awakening self to heights divine.

This was the basic idea of which Schleiermacher was the father and liberal Protestantism the offspring. Schleiermacher proclaimed and liberal Protestantism reiterates the thrilling and tremendous possibility belonging to man as man, “of taking up the divine just as it did happen in Christ.” This is religious experience: here are special revelation and religious authority. The Bible is demeaned into mere testimony to this human reality. It is a record of and a witness to religious experience as a continuing possibility. The Bible is a book of abiding value because herein is collected the evidence of man’s growing experience of God and his progressive response to him. And of this experience Jesus is for us the supreme example and the chief inspiration. But to be so it must be the real Jesus, the genuine historic Figure, recovered from the debris of dogmatism under which the Church has buried him. It was found necessary therefore to reconstruct the gospel record and to discover the essential human character of the story whose genius for religion has been so creative and decisive for all following generations. It fell to Harnack to lead in this reconstruction. “The Christ that Harnack sees,” said George Tyrrell, “looking back through nineteen centuries of Catholic darkness, is only the reflection of a Liberal Protestant face, seen at the bottom of a deep well.”

Against such a view of revelation, the neo-orthodox entered the most vigorous protest. Brunner saw it as an attempt to get rid of the idea of special revelation by seeking to make all history revelational. It failed altogether to take account of the fact that Christianity is decisively connected “with a real event in time and space, which, so it affirms, is the unique, final revelation for time and eternity, and for the whole world” (Mediator, p. 30).

So neo-orthodoxy came with its message of sharp opposition to liberalism’s attempt to build theology on human experience, even if designated as “religious” and “Christian” experience. In contrast, emphasis was placed upon the transcendence of God and his difference from man. He is the Wholly Other and there is no natural unity (says Barth especially) between God and man. The cult of the historic Jesus is therefore firmly repudiated. Special revelation is located in the Word of God, God the Son. It has nothing to do with a figure of human history. The revealing events are not “historical” happenings at all. They fall in the realm of Geschichte (which denotes that which is above history). Here, it is said, is the locale of revelation in which and for which the human Jesus has no significance. “Faith presupposes, as a matter of course, a priori, that the Jesus of history is not the same as the Christ of faith,” says Brunner (Mediator, p. 184). Thus faith is not in the least concerned with critical investigation into the records. In fact, the most radical biblical criticism, of which Brunner is an ardent adherent, does not affect the issue in the slightest. Indeed, it may well be that the Synoptic Gospels do less than justice to the stark literal humanness of Jesus (cf. Barth, Church Dogmatics, Vol. I, Part 1, pp. 151 ff., 1955). “Not Christ after the flesh, the Christ who is tractable to historical and critical enquiry, but the Christ after the Spirit is the subject of revelation” (Camfield, Revelation and the Holy Spirit, p. 64).

We cannot enter into the implications of all this now. It could be shown that despite all their emphasis upon “objective” revelation the neo-orthodox have really returned to the Kierkegaardian subjectivity, a subjectivity which in their respective criticisms of Schleiermacher they have professed to renounce. And, eliminating the historical Jesus from account, they readily entertain the most radical critical conclusions regarding the gospel records. But they are left, it appears to us, with a Christ who merely has the “value” of God for us, since he is who he is by the interpretation of the Church. It is when I am “convinced in my conscience” that “Christ is the truth” that I can believe in the Scripture testimony to Christ (Brunner, Dogmatics, Vol. I, p. 110). The truth is, of course, that this repudiation of the historic Jesus is false and fatal. It is the whole Christ of the whole New Testament who is the source and the object of faith. Faith presupposes, as a matter of course, a priori, that the Jesus of history is the same as the Christ of faith.

Modern radical Protestantism, it seems to us, sets out from the neo-orthodox conclusion and develops into a “reconstruction” theory which is reactionary indeed. Bultmann (the Strauss of the twentieth century) arrives at what we may call a form of skeptical romanticism. We are told that we can now know almost nothing concerning the life and person of Jesus (Jesus and the Word, p. 8). The whole Gospel has come to us “legend-tinted,” overlaid with ideas derived from a primitive supernaturalism. It is the task of theology today not be content with the neo-orthodox, super-historical Christ but to reconstruct the whole by “demythologizing” the “myths.” It is therefore maintained frankly, for example by Niebuhr, that such ideas as the Trinity are mere symbolic expressions, quite meaningless if read literally. Since it would be absurd to assert that the finite can be the infinite, we are told that Jesus was not really, literally divine. Only in a “gnostic, symbolic” sense can it be said that he died and rose again.

The upshot of this line of thought is that we are left with a new form of humanism in which revelation seems to be nothing much more than the unveiling to man of the ultimate divinity of his own being. This seems to us to be the conclusion of Tillich’s Systematic Theology, that is, if we understand him aright, or if he is really understandable at all. “Revelation,” he tells us, “is the manifestation of what concerns us ultimately” (Vol. I, p. 110). Everything is a bearer to man of such a revelation when it seizes him as a “miracle” and as “ecstacy,” thereby inducing an “elevation of heart.” Of this reality Christianity is the profoundest “symbol.” “A Christianity which does not assert that Jesus of Nazareth is sacrificed to Jesus as the Christ is just one more religion among many religions,” he says. But this too is “symbolic”; indeed, ’tis “symbol” all. The term “Son of God” is a symbol; so, too, is the term “God”; but a symbol of what? That we are not really told.

It need hardly be said that for all this “reconstruction” there is no authority whatsoever. Having renounced the thesis that divine revelation contains truths, Bultmann, Tillich, and Niebuhr are left with no rational basis for theology. They have failed to observe, what seems to us so clear in the biblical record, that the knowledge of God which is discovered by experience is not a knowledge which could have arisen in experience. Man’s encounter with God comes by way of the truth communicated to God’s chosen prophets and apostles. The acts of God and the word of God are not two separable realities. God’s acts are known only as they are interpreted by his word, and by his word we are brought into saving contact with his acts. Protestant radicalism has no objective Word of God, with the result that it flounders in the abyss of irrationalism and subjectivism.

Samuel M. Shoemaker is the author of a number of popular books and the gifted Rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in Pittsburgh. He is known for his effective leadership of laymen and his deeply spiritual approach to all vital issues.

“Theology: the Queen of the Sciences.” For many today, such a concept is reminiscent of times when knighthood was in flower. The man on the street may have difficulty comprehending that doctrinal differences involved in “that crash of light over Europe known as the Reformation played a mighty role in shaping the face of that continent. He cares little whether theology abdicated or was dethroned. He is more interested in the twentieth century monarch: natural science.

And natural science, or better, scientism, indeed seems regnant. But it wears its crown uneasily, its scepter twitches in a sweaty palm. For it threatens its dominion with destruction, its subjects with genocide. This is not out of character, for the youthful sovereign usurped the throne with a suddenness akin to violence. Indeed, of those performing the task of midwifery, of all the scientists and engineers produced by the human race, the majority are still alive. Their rushing flood of discoveries, by almost annihilating time and distance, has forced a reconstruction of geography. While the Industrial Revolution removed many of man’s muscular burdens, the current swift extension of electronics data-processing techniques, coupled with automation, will relieve him of many mental and decision-making functions. The unfolding of scientific discovery has been greater this past century than in all the others put together, and the acceleration shows no sign of slackening.

All of this promises man a golden age, but it has brought him into an era of mortal peril. His ability to cope with new forces matures slowly and is hopelessly outdistanced by the remorseless pace of his monarch-captor. The new discoveries, applied to weaponry and timed to the ideological division of the world into two armed camps, have propelled him into a balance of terror, with no guarantee of stability.

There are scattered cries for some word from the old Queen, but many theologians speak in uncertain accents (see editorial, “The Predicament of Modern Theology”). Their faltering words are often muffled by the blast of rocketry and echo meaninglessly in a yawning chasm of disaster. The world hears no clear warning of doom or promise of regeneration.

In such an hour, CHRISTIANITY TODAY begins with this issue a series of studies of the great Bible doctrines, in the classical tradition of biblical and systematic theology. The world hungers for such. Sometimes it takes a scientist like R.C.A. Vice President Dr. Elmer W. Engstrom to remind mankind, as he did government officials recently, that we need to develop faith and wisdom “more nearly the equivalent of our technical prowess.” These he finds in Christ.

Men outside of Christ are becoming more aware of their impotence. The illusory ideal of humanistic self-sufficiency is being seen more for what it is. But men cannot agree as to the proper source of aid. They seem lost in a never-ending war of ideas as they fight behind an armor of fluctuating notions which vanish with the polishing. Lacking are the transforming power of true doctrine, eternal principles, the certainty of a personal relationship with God.

What kind of God? Could evangelical theologians know whereof they speak as they tell us of the attributes of God? And what could have more thunderous relevance for the besetting uncertainties of our day than the providence of God? What of the enigma of man—his great capacity for good coupled with his stunning aptitude for evil? We have surely heard of God’s image in man and also of man’s fall, of his original sin. What is the present significance of these realities?

Explanations without solutions are surely inadequate. But how pale seem other messages beside the proclamation of Jesus Christ as Prophet, Priest, and King. How futile, solutions other than the gigantic Cross, its head reaching heaven, its foot piercing the bowels of hell, its arms encircling the world. How frustrating the quest for fullness of life apart from the emptiness of The Tomb. Where is there salvation apart from atonement? Where is completeness apart from mystical union with the Son of Man? Where is hope apart from faith? Where is satisfaction apart from justification? Where is purpose apart from sanctification? Where is confidence apart from assurance concerning the last things? And where is fellowship apart from God and his Christ?

But how may we know these matchless truths unless God tell us in ways we can understand and dare not evade? This is revelation. And it is at this point that Pittsburgh Seminary’s Addison H. Leitch begins our pilgrimage back to Jerusalem, treading with sure step as he avoids the common pitfalls of sacrificing either general or special revelation.

I am not sure whether such opportunities have been present in other places, but in Holland personal contacts between Roman Catholic and Reformed theologians since the last war have been highly instructive. During the occupation, we came together frequently because we felt a strong need of one another. After the war, we tried to continue something of the same spirit, and a series of conversations was carried on between Roman and Reformed theologians. In the conversations we attempted to review in an open and cordial way the great questions involved in the Rome-Reformation conflict.

There was voiced concern on the part of some lest in such conversations Reformed theologians would tend to minimize the depth of the gulf between us. But those who took part in the discussions know that within the cordial personal relationships, the profound differences of faith were continually manifest. Subjects as mariology, the primacy of the pope, the nature of the church, justification and good Works, all of which were repeatedly discussed, kept us from ever forgetting our tragic differences.

Misunderstandings were frequently cleared up. But even as we came to understand each other better, the differences between us became all the more marked. At the same time, it often struck us that misunderstandings of Rome from the side of Protestants are many and frequently form part of a long tradition of misunderstanding. But it struck us even more deeply that Roman Catholic thinkers carry on a persistent misinterpretation of the Reformation.

It is recognized by Roman scholars that a profound religious motivation was involved in the Reformation. Catholic apologists talk of the profound faith observable in Luther and Calvin, and speak appreciatively of the Reformers’ great respect for the Word of God. But the charge that the Reformation was basically a revolution still is heard. Karl Adam, who often has a good word for Luther, says that Luther committed the great sin, which Augustine called the worst, namely, the sin of raising an altar against an altar. Luther, says Adam, lost the vision of the reality of the body of Christ in the ecclesia catholica.

Of special interest is the fact that Roman polemicists still charge the Reformers with an unwarranted one-sidedness in regard to the doctrine of sola fide, salvation by faith alone. Catholic writers have coined the word solism for this aspect of the Reformers’ theology: sola fide, sola scriptura, sola gratia. The tendency to see things in terms of only this or that forced the Reformers, we are told, to ignore other sides of the truth.

Criticism is directed especially against the sola fide doctrine. Salvation by faith alone tended to remove necessity for good works or sanctification. The Reformation is thus seen as a kind of antinomianism which relied on a perverse interpretation of Paul with no eye for the urgent call to holiness in the Christian life.

Now it is obvious that the Bible puts much emphasis on the necessity of sanctification and good works. It could hardly be said more strongly than in the book of Hebrews which tells us that without consecration it is impossible to see God (Heb. 12:14). Then there is Matthew who recalls that it is the pure in heart who shall see God (Matt. 5:8). Why then do Roman apologists suggest that the Reformers, who were theologians of the Word, had no eye for the biblical urgency of sanctification?

If we recall the sixteenth century, we remember that many, in reaction to Roman ideas of man’s meriting salvation, were hesitant even to talk about good works with any emphasis. Yet it is surely clear that the Reformers without exception never lost sight of the importance of sanctification in their attack on the idea of the merit of sanctification as part payment for salvation.

Calvin probably had Roman criticism in mind when he wrote that salvation by faith alone cannot mean that faith remains alone. Like Luther, he would have no part of the thought that, since justification is by faith and not by works, good works were unnecessary and even harmful. Their protest was in no wise against sanctified living; rather, it was against the notion that a man earned salvation in part by sanctified living. They wanted to maintain sanctification in its biblical perspective.

Roman Catholic theology made a tradition of accusing the Reformers of losing sight of the urgency of the moral and spiritual life. This is parallel with their charge that the Reformers’ rejection of papal primacy meant they were not Reformers but revolutionaries. Such Catholic writers often suggest that the Reformers blazed the trail that led to the French Revolution and the nihilism of our own day. The discouraging aspect of this understanding is that it is seen in the most irenic Catholics, those who want most sincerely to understand the Reformation.

Surely, it is the duty of those who look at the Reformation as a return to the Bible, to make clear in word and deed that such interpretation of the Reformed life is a serious misunderstanding. We cannot rest with saying that the writings of Luther and Calvin make it abundantly clear that they were not enemies of sanctified living and not antagonists of good works. We must make it manifest in our persons and in our congregations that faith does not remain alone, that it is informed with love and holiness, that the faith which alone saves is a source of spiritual life, a power which makes for holiness. If we wish to dispel the Catholic argument that Protestants believe only faith is important and sanctification unimportant, then we must together seriously live the Christian life in the seriousness of the Bible.

The deepest intention of the Reformation was to preach the significance of the Atonement as the redemption of life. Antinomianism is a thrust against the real meaning of the Reformation, the call to life in Christ with all its urgency to holiness. Salvation is through faith alone: this is the Reformation truth. But faith does not remain alone, it is joined by works. This also is Reformation truth.