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What is heresy? The conciliar answer

“What is heresy?” you say. Well, that’s simple. Heresy is anything declared heretical by one of the first seven ecumenical councils. So, if hold to those councils, you’re fine. If you reject any of them, you’re a heretic.

That was easy.

What is heresy? Of the five answers we’ll be considering, this is one is the most popular and also the least satisfying. It’s the most popular because it’s the easiest and clearest. Many of the councils even provided lists. Arians, semi-Arians, Pneumatomachoi, Marcellians, Photinians, and Apollinarians all live on the wrong side of the tracks. How do I know? The First Council of Constantinople said so. (Now I just need to dig through some history text to figure out what in the world “Photinians” are. Sounds like something from Star Trek.)

But, I really don’t find this approach terrible helpful.

1. It really doesn’t tell us what heresy is. For our purposes, this is really the core problem. Suppose that I asked you to tell me what a “disease” is, and you said “cancer.” That’s kind of helpful. At least know I know that cancer is a disease. But what does disease mean? You can list specific diseases all day long, but you haven’t really answered the question. The same problem is at work here. Arianism is a heresy. Great, but what is heresy? How did the Nicene fathers determine that Arianism was heresy? How did they decide that Arius was a heretic and not Athanasius? Why did they even think that labeling something as heresy was necessary? Questions like these press beyond particular examples of heresy and probe into the nature of heresy itself.

2. It focuses on the seven ecumenical councils. I love this part of the argument, particularly when it gets used by Protestants. Here’s a quick test for all the Protestants out there: name the first seven ecumenical councils and what issues they each addressed…without using Wikipedia. When most Protestants (at least the ones I know) talk about the 7 ecumenical councils, they’re really talking about two: Nicea/Constantinople (most of the time we just mash those two together) and Chalcedon (we tend to skip Ephesus). We know hardly anything about the others. Yet we throw the number 7 around like a holy talisman that wards off heresy. The argument also fails for Catholics who have quite a few other authoritative councils. So, there’s no reason for them to identify these as the sole arbiters of what qualifies as heresy.

3. It takes away our ability to identify heresy today. Do we really believe that anything worthy of the name “heresy” arose in the first few centuries of the church? Humans are amazingly creative beings. We’re constantly coming up with new ways to do stupid things. So, why would we think that the church addressed every possible heresy at these 7 councils? Yet, I often hear people wield this argument almost as a club to prevent people from using the term “heresy” today. “That can’t be a heresy, it wasn’t addressed at one of the 7 ecumenical councils.” Whatever heresy is, it sounds bad. So, we should probably be able to recognize it today.

4. It assumes a problematic level of conciliar authority. Problematic, that is, for Protestants. Even Protestants with a great appreciation for church history have a problem with simply affirming the absolute authority of a church council to define heresy. That’s just not how Protestantism works. We can have high regard for the decisions of an ecumenical council, even choosing to assume that these councils did in fact teach biblical truth faithfully, and thus exercising extreme caution whenever someone suggests that one may have erred in some way. But, we can’t simply say: “The Council taught it. I believe it. That settles it.”

5. We apply the councils selectively. If I said that the Son was a created being who was not eternal with the Father, people would get pretty upset. And, if I said that Jesus was just a normal human person who was chosen and empowered by the eternal Son, a completely separate person, I would have serious job-security issues. But, what if I made an argument like this. (1) Jesus is a single, unified person. (2) Persons have a “will” by which they choose to do (or not do) certain things. (3) So, where there are two wills, there are two persons. (4) Therefore, in the incarnation, Jesus had one will. Otherwise, you’d end up with two persons in incarnation (Nestorianism) or a Jesus who has a split-personality disorder. I know many theologians who hold to this argument or something very like it. And, I can guarantee that I could develop this argument in a book, with very little response from the Christian community. But, there’s one problem. It’s heresy. At least, according to the Conciliar Answer it is. This view is known as Monothelitism and was rejected as heretical at the Sixth Ecumenical Council. (Explaining why it was rejected would take too long. For our purpose, it’s enough to know that it was.) Why do we get all upset at someone who affirms one heresy (Arianism) but not another (Monothelitism)?

So, I don’t think the Conciliar Answer gets us very far in understanding heresy. But, it does point in helpful directions. As we’ll see throughout this series, it’s almost impossible to define “heresy” without taking a close look at the historical situations that caused particular communities to identify some belief/group as heretical. So, studying the first seven ecumenical councils (among others) is a great way to understand what heresy is and how the label has been used by the church. But, that’s a more complex task than simply saying that heresy simply is whatever these seven councils declared to be heretical.

[This post is part of our series on “What is ‘Heresy’ and Who Is a ‘Heretic’?”]

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Why do non-Calvinists hate Calvinism so much?

That’s the question being asked on a couple of blogs today. Frank Turk starts things off with “Filthy Calvinists and the People Who Love to Hate Them“, asking why many non-Calvinists get so fired up about Calvinism, insisting loudly that they’re not Calvinists, but they don’t express similar vehemence against other systems like Catholicism. (He also mixes in quite a bit of rhetoric as blog fodder, but this is the basic question.) The post is followed by an extensive discussion in the comments on the issue.

Adam Omelianchuk follows up with “My Distaste for Calvinism Made Public.” Although not a Calvinist himself, he argues:

I think the main reason why so many protestant Christians have a problem with Calvinism more than issues related to Catholicism is that they see Calvinism as a plausible system. That means it is a reasonable one that could possibly be true (sorry, but some of those beliefs about Mary are just plain silly). I remember being introduced to the theology 11 years ago through the “limited atonement” piece of the puzzle, and I still remember the violent reaction I had to it. It made the strange view of Open Theism look attractive, but Calvinism’s plausibility created a long-time of wrestling that ultimately resulted in a (short lived) conversion to Calvinism.

He then goes on to explain why he is opposed to Calvinism, focusing largely on issues related to the problem of evil and the idea that everything God does is focused on his own glory (i.e. the “self-absorbed God” problem).

I’d actually be inclined to argue that non-Calvinists are more stridently opposed to Calvinism because it is “closer” to them – closer theologically, culturally, and often geographically. The general orbit of non-Calvinist Protestants churches overlaps that of Calvinist Protestants far more than it does that of Catholics, Orthodox, and others. And, if you’re going to throw stones at someone, you’re far more likely to throw them at the person standing next to you than some guy on the other side of town.

Feel free to engage in the discussions at the other two blogs, but I’d also be interested in hearing what you think on the subject. If you’re a non-Calvinist, do you find yourself being more critical of Calvinism than other theological systems? If so, why? And, if you’re a Calvinist, do you have any thoughts on why other Protestants pick on you all the time?

Flotsam and jetsam (7/19)

  • William Black has a nice post on why he doesn’t think 1 Tim. 2:12 is as clear as many complementarians (esp. Al Mohler) want to believe. There’s nothing really new in his argument, but he does a good job summarizing why this is such a challenging verse.
  • Christopher Benson offers a whole list of new and upcoming books that he thinks are worth keeping an eye on. If you’re looking for something good to read, this is worth checking out.
  • Jason Stellman pushes back on the idea that we should all just “get along” and minimize our theological differences. Instead, he contends that unless we’re willing to be liberals or Catholics, we need to acknowledge our theological differences and give up empty appeals to “unity.”
  • Reformed Forum has an interview with Darryl Hart on understanding the Presbyterian family tree. The interview itself was interesting, though he misunderstood (misrepresented?) the situation here in Portland at one point (see Pat’s comments in the post).
  • Several bibliobloggers having posted recently on problems they’ve had with commenters (see Larry Hurtado, Nick Norelli, and Brian LePort). We don’t have those kinds of problems here because I sprinkle magic pixie dust on my computer every morning.
  • And, if you’ve been enjoying the Old Spice Guy videos that have been so popular lately, Mashable has put together their 10 favorite.