Evangelicals and Catholics: Introduction to a New Series

I have always been interested in the relationship between Catholics and Evangelicals; and on the larger scale between the Catholic Church, and the various forms of Protestantism. From a very early age I was very ecumenically minded (developmentally appropriate for what ecumenism means to an 8 year old, of course). I remember one day while playing at friend’s house, one of the kids in our group asked my friend, “What religion are you?” “Protestant.” He responded. I found myself very confused. I had never heard the word “Protestant” before. I knew he occasionally attended our church, and my mother and his were longtime friends. And I knew what religion I was: I was a Christian! I was surprised that he did not answer with “Christian.” I think we spent the next few minutes arguing over whether he as a Protestant or a Christian. This story of course shows both of our youthful theological naiveté, and I think my mom cleared up the confusion when I got home, but from then on I remember being fascinated by all the different brands and flavors of Christianity, and how it is still all Christianity.

One of my sets of grandparents was Catholic. I remember attending mass with them and my mom sometimes when they came to visit us, or when we went to visit them. We still went even though my mom was no longer a practicing Catholic. I remember one particular instance as the congregation was preparing to celebrate the Eucharist my mother gave me a quick 1 minute catechesis crash course. I had never taken communion in Catholic Church before; I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know that according to official position of the (Catholic) Church I wasn’t supposed to take communion. So like any good boy, I did what my mom told me to do. She told me to cup my hands and when the priest put the wafer in my hand and said, “the Body of Christ” to say “Amen.” And that is how I took my first communion (in the Catholic Church anyway). The incident set me on a long road comparing and contrasting the two branches of Christianity.

In high school, I became friends with a girl who was a devout Catholic. Throughout those years I continued to consider the differences, similarities, strengths and weaknesses of both Catholicism and Protestantism. Together we started and led an ecumenical morning prayer and bible study group at our high school. In college, I began the long road of my formal theological training, studying church history gave me a historical framework for dealing with these issues. Catholic-Protestant discussions were a common theme at Gordon, inside and outside of the classroom. During this time also, one of my college friends was thinking about “converting” from Protestantism to Catholicism. While in seminary, I had an opportunity to work for a ministry that did many programs in a Catholic parish, including leading their confirmation programs. Imagine an evangelical teaching Youth Alpha to 50 Catholic teens as part of their confirmation requirement! Now, I am pursuing a Master of Theology with a concentration in biblical studies at Boston College, a Catholic institution. To the amazement of many Protestants, Catholics actually do read their bibles!

The relationship between Catholics and Protestants and their respective faith communities has always been am interest of mine. Therefore, I am starting a new series on this blog to think about and dialogue through some of these issues. I look forward to the results!

Is the Quest for the Historical Jesus Historically Possible? Is it Theologically Necessary?

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with Dr. Daniel Harrington S.J. Along with answering the above question, interaction was required with selections from Schubert M. Ogden's The Point of Christology, and John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew.

Thesis: Insofar as we have appropriately defined it, the quest for the historical Jesus is both historically possible and theologically necessary.

“If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins” (1 Cor. 15:17). This statement by Paul shows the theological necessity of grounding Christology in history. The need for a historical resurrection goes beyond the existential gleanings from vague “Christian-kerygma.”[1] As Ebeling put it, “if faith in him were shown to be a misunderstanding…the ground would be taken out from under Christian faith" (In Ogden, 50). Defining “historically possible” is important. Meier rightly highlights the distinction between the “real” Jesus, which, as with any historical figure, cannot be fully realized, and the “reasonably complete” Jesus, which is historically achievable.[2] The issue of sources, methodology, and historiography are thus to the fore. Contrary to Ogden’s position (Ogden, 54), the sources, primarily the four canonical gospels, do present an accurate depiction of Jesus, albeit laconic and with various theological emphases. Of course the intent of all of the gospel narratives was theological rather than purely historical, however, theologizing within a gospel account does not categorically discredit its historicity. In regard to the methodology of criteria: because of the extreme diversity of opinion among scholars regarding the use, primacy, and limits of the various criteria, it is safe to conclude that they cannot guarantee a pericope as either authentic or inauthentic; they can serve merely as helpful pointers that increase likelihood of authenticity. When they are used too stringently, however, they are limiting and exclusive. The use of criteria must be “more of an art than a science” (Meier, 184).

The philosophy of our collective historiography needs to be examined. Ogden rightly distinguishes between minimalist/maximalist (Ogden, 115), and a healthy middle ground seems to do a scholar well. However, Bultmann’s wholesale minimalist skepticism is most unhelpful, “we can know almost nothing concerning…Jesus” (In Meier, 28). At some point, there needs to be some level of trust in our documents that while theological are also historical. If this trust does not exist, we should not even bother with history, but the greater loss would be a futile faith.

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[1] Schubert M. Ogden, The Point of Christology (San Francisco; Harper & Row, 1982), 51. (In-text citations from this point on).

[2] John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew (New York; Doubleday, 1991), 24. (In-text citations from this point on).

Why Are There So Many Interpretations of Jesus?

This was a one page paper for the class Jesus and Hermeneutics at Boston College with DR. Daniel Harrington S.J. Along with answering the above question, interaction was required with Gerd Theissen's work The Shadow of the Galilean, which tries to illustrate the "quest for the historical Jesus" in narrative form.

Thesis: Various presuppositions of the interpreter have led to differing interpretations of Jesus’ life and purpose.

Rudolph Bultmann posits that there is no such thing as presuppositionless exegesis.[1] The reason Jesus has such a vast array of interpretations of his life and purpose is because the exegete; whether a modern critical scholar, or a first century zealot, comes to the task of interpretation with varying presuppositions. In The Shadow of the Galilean, Barabbas plays the part of a typical first century zealot. His presuppositions about what the messiah should be and do (overthrow the Romans) disallow him from accepting Jesus’ agenda. His strong sense of political (social) justice, both in terms of overthrowing foreign authorities, and reversing common poverty, is inextricably tied to violence. This precludes him from following Jesus, who falls short of Barabbas’ expectations with “evasiveness” and “want[ing] to take the gentle way”(89)[2] Barabbas’ presuppositions about how the Kingdom of God should function prevents him from understanding Jesus’ true inauguration of the Kingdom.

Andreas, struggles to interpret Jesus’ meaning for his own life. While he tries to be objective, he too wrestles with the purpose of how the messiah would function (139). To complete his commission, he portrays Jesus in existing categories in Roman thought; philosopher and poet. His personal struggle comes when interpreting Jesus as a prophet (138-139), which he conceals from the Romans. When standing on their own, all of the presupposed categories of how Jesus functioned, while true, end up being an incomplete picture of Jesus’ purpose. Metilius, the inquisitive Roman, also interprets with presuppositions; thinking that Jesus and the zealots go hand and hand. It seems he is open to Andreas’ apology but struggles with the implications of Jesus for the Laws of the Jewish faith (150-151).

The correspondence between Theissen and Kratzinger surfaces their own presuppositions, though they are more difficult to decipher in the limited and one sided exchange. Theissen, while trying to be objective in his work, recognizes that he has presuppositions influenced by his own historical context (153).

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[1] Rudolph Bultmann, “Is Exegesis Without Presuppositions Possible?,” in The Hermeneutics Reader (ed. Kurt Mueller-Vollmer; New York, Continuum, 1992), 243.

[2] I use in-text page citations to save space, all coming from Gerd Theissen, The Shadow of the Galilean, (Philadelphia; Fortress Press, 1987).