Theological Review (2): Seeking the Wrong Certainty
The Meaning of Protestant Theology, a book written by Professor Phillip Cary and published by Baker Academic in 2019, is recommended for anyone looking for a perspicacious and concise account of Protestant Christian theology. Last month we wrote about Cary’s analysis of spiritual ascent and descent. Now, we will inquire into the question, whether Christian theology has been looking for the wrong kind of certainty in recent centuries (p. 9). Faith should be based on the certainty that God will be true to his word, not on a purported certainty of one’s own theological tradition; if for no other reason than that some academic theological traditions have arisen with no evident connection to building the assurance of faith. One thinks of “historical Jesus” research that attempts to create a biography out of a thin ancient historical record that would be more appropriate for a noncommittal study of Homer and Troy. Cary writes that “belief in the wrong kind of certainty has not only left Protestant theology particularly unprepared for new developments in biblical scholarship in the nineteenth century; it resulted in a stunning lack of charity in Luther’s own writing” (p. 209).
Speaking of the “wrong kind of certainty” suggests that an equivocation is lurking. If two or more kinds of certainty simply and always bore distinct names, then life would be much easier. Certainty is demanded in mathematics; it is not clear that Christian faith demands the same state of mind. In mathematical proofs, if the premises are understood, then the conclusion is seen, via mental vision, to be necessary without reference to persons. In Christian doctrine, if God’s promises and message are understood, then the conclusion (salvation) is seen, via mental vision, to be reliable, based on God’s character.
What type of certainty attaches to faith, and should a different word be substituted for “certainty”? Around 400 C.E. an official Biblical canon was recognized, and it included the book of Hebrews, whose 11th chapter (ESV) begins with “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” The original Greek words for “assurance” and “conviction” are (transliterated as) “hypostasis” and “elenchos,” respectively; the translation seems appropriate, recalling that hypostasis refers to the assurance of abstract things and to the essence of concrete things. For both assurance and conviction, it would seem that one is dealing with a probability sufficiently high for action or belief (a moral certainty) but not necessarily as high as for mathematical proof (absolute certainty). Text and notes in a German translation (Schlachter 2000) link hypostasis to confidence, realization, and holding fast (Zuversicht, Verwicklichung, and Beharren), but not to certainty (Gewissheit). There is a famous hymn titled “Blessed Assurance, Jesus is Mine,” but nowhere has the writer of this blog encountered a hymn titled “Certain Inference, Jesus is Mine.” Only long-standing habit and inertia lead one to say of faith that it must be certain rather than divinely assured. If only a context-sensitive equivocation-alarm would sound whenever a Christian believer said “certain,” not stopping until the speaker substituted “divinely assured”; then much confusion could be avoided.
Another wrong kind of certainty lurks in the interpretation of Christian texts: “Reformers like Luther and Calvin accepted a version of the traditional gradation of authorities, with Scripture alone as the source of certainty [assurance] and the church fathers as indispensable but not infallible guides to sound interpretation of Scripture” (p. 212). “Protestant theologians were convinced that … the most up-to-date historical scholarship supported their interpretation of both Scripture and tradition” (p. 213). However, nineteenth century historical-critical scholarship treated sacred Scripture like any other ancient document, produced unorthodox analyses, and reminded orthodox believers that all interpretations take place within some tradition.
Wandering into a hostile interpretive environment for the sake of a wrong kind of probability also produces results hostile to traditional Christianity. For example, Hume’s gambit posits that the probability that any miracle is true is less than the probability that some medieval monk corrupted the text and fabricated the miracle; that all of our beliefs are adopted by weighing probabilities; and hence, that all alleged miracles must be disbelieved de jure without the necessity of constructing a factual record. Consistent with this approach, some commentators downplay Constantine’s apparent conversion to Christianity before the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, not wishing to delve into the existence of fascinating commemorative coins that Constantine later struck, showing the Christian Chi-Rho sign on the Roman labarum. However, Hume’s gambit fails, because the thesis that all of our beliefs are adopted by weighing probabilities is false: If we believe that there are other minds and that the sun will rise again tomorrow, then we do so on other grounds.
Cary provides insightful discussions of modernism and post-modernism in Chapter 9. “To the post-modernist, modernity appears ironically as a tradition that cannot admit that it is a tradition, because it is ideologically opposed to all traditions” (p. 222). Left-wing postmodernism maintains that all traditions are indeed irrational and inescapable. Right-wing post-modernism maintains that some instances of rationality exist in some traditions, although none of those traditions is a pure expression of universal reason. Cary concludes on page 224 that it is the critical Socratic spirit, rather than any foundation of certainty, that turns traditions of interpretation into vectors of rationality.