If I’m honest, I have to admit that the word “orthodoxy” makes me nervous. It conjures a long history of violence and oppression — inquisitions, burnings at the stake, religious wars, bonfires of the vanities, anathemas and counter-anathemas, and the more subtle manipulations and exclusions of the various petty tyrants, troglodytes and buffoons who are stock characters in anyone’s experience who has lived in any branch of the Church for a while.
But if I consider it more carefully, “orthodoxy” in the best sense is like the sea.
My family has vacationed at the New Jersey shore for over forty-five years. If I stand on the beach, at the edge of the sea, if I breath slowly and deeply, I participate with every sense in the beautiful, untamed life of this amazing planet. Sunlight warms my face and illumines my gaze; sand and water scrub and cool my feet; moist, salty air fills my nose and lungs; the rhythmic surf washes over my ears and stills my mind. I am contented with the givenness of this creaturely space, gazing on its boundless horizon, contemplating its incomprehensible lifespan, participating in the gift of fecund being.
The same is true if I come to the Creed in wonder, seeking understanding. The reality narrated in the Creed, like the sea, is given, a gift. It provides the grammatic, incarnational structure for contemplation of the incomprehensible Triune God, complete and at peace, creating, self-emptying in incarnation, giving fellowship and community, restoring, healing, re-creating and making things right in love. It summarizes the experience of countless others who have stood at the shore of this magnificent sea, and invites me to participate in the very life of God — where the Father brings life from nothing, the Son speaks Wisdom to chaos, the Spirit hovers over the womb of the world.
This is why “orthodoxy,” in this best sense — the sense of the heart of a story shaped by the God who gave Himself on the cross — is a gift to be welcomed. Here, I rest, I explore, I marvel, I am freed from my self to find myself in life beyond my self. Here, I glimpse the simple unity of faith, hope, beauty, truth, and love.
7 replies on “The Ocean of Orthodoxy”
“It conjures a long history of violence and oppression…”
As someone who does value orthodoxy and the creeds, your words are helpful in that they remind me that not all approach the topic/concept in the same way I do. I needed that reminder. Thanks.
Sympathise with feelings, and understand that you are referring to “orthodoxy” and not “Orthodoxy ” as in Eastern/Oriental Orthodox churches but you do appreciate “It conjures a long history of violence and oppression — inquisitions, burnings at the stake” has a distinctly Western European/papal/RC feel to it? It would be quite alien to many Orthodox, both Eastern and Oriental, for whom “Orthodox” means the tradition most closely linked to the “original” one catholic apostolic universal church… This is NOT to say that there isn’t a history of violence or oppression in the Eastern church but it is certainly not defined by it, so when I hear word orthodox I don’t think of inqusition or burning at stake – that’s what I’d associate with the Papal rule in the middle ages…
Ed – thanks, yes, I was referring to small-“o” “orthodoxy” not the Eastern churches. I love “Eastern Orthodox” theology and I very much appreciate how the Eastern churches’ traditions and liturgies were preserved from some of the worst periods in the history of the Western Church (or persevered when suffering through some of those worst periods, e.g. the sack of Constantinople). One of the things I’ve enjoyed most as I’ve studied Eastern Orthodox theology is the sense, which I tried to capture a bit in this post, of “orthodoxy” not as a dry set of propositions to be used as a bludgeon, but of a life-giving tradition to explore and rejoice in.
You captured it so well that I was not so sure you didn’t intend “O,” O.
I had someone put tradition to me that all the opinions of the brothers who’ve gone before and the creeds, council decisions etc. should operate as guiding lights on a map of Scriptures. We should be suspicious if we’ve thought of something novel and care deeply for the opinions of those who’ve gone before but they are not authoritative. Too many Protestants, Catholics and Orthodox use them as guard rails and chains to keep people from wrestling out doctrine. At the end of the day, it really doesn’t matter what any creed has said, but it would be foolish to ignore their voices.
Also I find it interesting that Scripture is never considered ‘tradition’. Is it not the ‘Tradition of the Apostles’? And it has the promise of being inspired by the Holy Spirit!
Shalom,
Cal
Cal, good comment. Let me make a couple of observations.
In the Eastern Orthodox church, scripture is indeed part of the “tradition.” So it’s not quite correct to say scripture is never considered tradition. For the Orthodox, the whole deposit of faith, which includes scripture, is a seamless tapestry. In many ways I find this a compelling vision.
For us in the Western Church, both Protestant and Catholic, there is a division between scripture and tradition, with some nuances and differences concerning the role of each. But even here, the distinction is somewhat artificial. We only can define what “scripture” means because of tradition, through the Church’s canonization decisions. Even the scriptures that tell us scripture is inspired by the Holy Spirit are known to us as “scripture” only because of the testimony of the Holy Spirit within the Church that led to the adoption of those particular texts in the Canon.
So, I lean towards the view that the hierarchy of theological norms can’t be thought of as a sort of formalistic heirarchy. We don’t oppose “scripture” to “tradition,” or to “reason” or “experience” for that matter. What we do (or should, I think), say is that we recognize scripture to be the unique written deposit that secures the Church’s witness to the truth of Christ, that scripture is functionally given to the Church by God precisely for this purpose, and so it is to scripture that we turn ever and again as a norming norm. But notice that this isn’t the same as saying that it doesn’t matter what any creed says. It does matter because the formulations of the tradition that the Church has recognized as excellent and normative over the millennia are sound guides to the interpretation of the Church’s book, scripture. So, I think I would grant things like the Apostle’s and Nicene Creeds and the Chalcedonian Definition somewhat more stable normative authority than you might be suggesting, while agreeing that they are not in themselves scripture but rather are interpretations of scripture.
I mean to say about Scriptures that it is the ‘Tradition of the Apostles’, that is the measuring rod to the opinions of others, which include Creed, as to what we ought to believe.
So while Creeds are very helpful, if the Scriptures so demands, I can say “Well, the Nicene Creed is wrong here”. Not that it is, but it is not beyond critique from the authoritative instruction of Scriptures which is promised to be inspired by the Holy Spirit.
And yet our own interpretations can be flawed. We’re seeing through the glass darkly I suppose 🙂 .
Thanks for your posts.