The Weakness of Strong Dogma

August 16, 1959
Akron

The grandeur of man is his freedom. The misery of man is the anxiety of his fearful uncertainty in the midst of his free choices. Man can avoid this misery, this tension of freedom, by accepting strong dogma. This acquiescence to outer authority, however, is an abdication of the opportunity to participate in life's greatest human opportunity -- freedom.

In religion, where shall we place our trust? Who speaks the word of truth? How one answers those questions determines for him the definitions of religious authority.

Dogma has been an essential arch in most of the bridges religions have built across the centuries. The sermon today concerns the definitions, origins, and values of Christian dogma. Most persons in our world yearn for assurance, security, and comfort. They will obey the voice of authority to instruct them as to the proper and acceptable vehicles of faith. But the surrender to authority violates the essential needs of human beings for freedom and responsibility. Furthermore, all the essential principles of liberal religion are based or implied from the condition of freedom.

The large majority of organized Christian churches seem always to return to strong dogma as the requirement for religious fellowship and the condition for salvation. It is now commonplace for local councils of churches, council of church-women and national organizations of Christians to write preambles, or other conditions of membership, on a creedal basis, thus effectively disenfranchising Universalists, Unitarians, Jews and some others from sharing in a united religious participation in the life of a community. It has happened here in Akron; it has happened in many cities of our country.

One of the surprising events in recent American religious history has been the announcement that Congregationalists, traditionally non-creedal, have formulated a creed which will be the dogmatic basis of the merged Congregational and Evangelical and Reformed denomination. While the writers of the creed proposed that this is a testimony, not a test, of faith, it is a creed nevertheless.

Dogma is "a doctrine of theology officially defined and declared to rest on divine authority." The German scholar Harnack once said that dogma is "that doctrine which one must believe in to be saved." (Doctrine includes all teaching, including dogma).

The Roman Catholic theory is that Christ organized the church and committed to Peter, first, and the apostles, the truth which every loyal Christian is required to obey. In the Roman Catholic view, dogma has been formulated and expressed by Church councils, and since 1870, when the infallibility of the Pope on matters of faith and morals was announced, by the Bishop of Rome. The "good" Catholic is expected to conform to the dogma of the rites and sacraments of the Latin Church because there "is no salvation outside it."

The traditional Protestant position, as proclaimed by Martin Luther, is that dogmas have no authority even though originating in church councils or the announcements of a Pope. Dogmas have authority only when supported by the Scripture, asserted the Reformers.

This has been somewhat of a snare to the unwary. As many an abused martyr has discovered, if one interpreted Scripture in a fashion which opposed the announced views of the leading Protestants, Calvin or Luther, for example, the rebel soon discovered that his citations of Scripture would not stay the hand of the executioner. The death of Servetus at the hands of John Calvin, and numerous Anabaptists persecuted by the Lutherans provide ample evidence.

Dogmas which a person must accept in order to be saved originated in the primitive Christian church within the first one hundred years of its existence.

The enforcement of Christian dogma comprises one of the most ghastly testimonies of history. Those of you who took advantage of the opportunity to attend church during Dr. Wolfe's series on Paul know something of the background in which Christianity developed and organized from a wandering, Jewish brotherhood to a religion proclaiming itself as the only true faith by which a person could be saved.

Official scripture and dogma developed primarily because of what were alleged to be heresies, particularly in the second century a.d. Powerful and influential groups of religious philosophers framed the Christian revelation in differing ways of thinking - Greek, Babylonian, Egyptian, Asian. For example, the Docetists, who denied the humanity of Jesus, speculating that Jesus was only a ghostly apparition, were of particular concern to the growing Christian groups. Thus primitive creeds were framed to insure that a believing Christian must testify that Jesus was both man and God, that he died on the cross, was buried and literally rose again.

Out of the struggles against heresy, the old Catholic Church arose with three articles of belief required of the Christian. The believer had to accept the episcopate. That is, he submitted to the authority of the bishop. He had to accept the creed and certain scriptures became official, or canonized. Jesus would have been dismayed and astounded if he knew that his life had been the starting point of unyielding orthodoxy. The rules of the church gradually became more rigid, culminating in the church councils at Nicea in 325 and Chalcedon in 451. The Bishop of Rome gradually acquired more power and prestige. If you were a Christian, and wanted to be saved, the dogmas had to be acknowledged and obeyed.

There were notable exceptions to the growing tide of orthodox conformity. About 200 a.d., Clement of Alexandria was Universalist in his belief that all persons would be saved. Believing that theological propositions should be freely examined, Clement asserted that heresies were helps for discovering truth, because the heretic made a deeper and more searching study than the unthinking believer. While many of the early church fathers struck out against heresies, Clement took the positive approach. Rather than condemning heretics, Clement sought to expound the beliefs he thought to be true in order to persuade those who might disagree with him.

Alexander V.G. Allen (THE CONTINUITY OF CHRISTIAN THOUGHT) summarized Clement's faith this way, "(Clement's) belief in the inherent worth of the individual soul, as constituted after the divine image, would not allow him to succumb to the thought that men were created practically as animal only, with the possibility of some receiving an immortal spirit in virtue of his own exertions; or on the other hand, that any soul could continue forever to resist the force of redeeming love. Somehow and somewhere in the long run of the ages, that love must prove mightier than sin and death, and vindicate its power in one universal triumph."

But there were too few of Clement's kind. For centuries the persecutions inflicted on the Christians by the Romans during the early centuries of the church have been cited as proof of the truth of Christianity. The fact that the church survived the executions of martyrs is offered as evidence that only a true faith could persist after such ordeals of torture and death.

It may be that the "blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church," as the old Christian maxim goes, but if one looks at the historical record with any sort of objectivity, there can be no doubt that Christians persecuted other Christians with far greater ferocity and more horrible consequences than the Romans ever perpetrated on the Christians.

Nothing in Roman annals can compare with the Inquisition of the wars of religion between Catholics and Reformers in the centuries following the Protestant Revolt. The pursuit and execution of German Anabaptists by German Lutherans, the bloody massacre of French Huguenots by French Catholics, the slaughter of English Catholics by English Protestants, the similar mass crime by the English Catholics against English Protestants, the terrible persecution of Dutch Protestants -- all in the name of Christ the Savior -- all these and many more crimes of religious hatred beggar description. Nothing can be compared to the vicious consequences of rigid Christian dogma except the modern murder, slavery and terror of totalitarian governments. [editor's note: inserted in handwriting, 'I am more than half convinced that Hitler and Stalin learned their trade in the Christian archives.']

Strong dogmatists have always proposed and prayed for a united Christian church. The present Pope has hinted that re-union with Rome is possible for non-Catholic Christians. (On Roman terms, of course). But never in all the nineteen hundred years since Paul has there ever been a united Christian church. The Roman Catholic church, even in its centuries of strength, never united all Christendom. The historical fact is that Protestantism immediately fragmented into a number of groups. There are still more than two hundred fifty known organized denominations in our country alone. This may be considered a good thing, an ironic joke, or a scandal, but the fact of widely different organizations within Christian Protestantism is a social and religious fact.

Ancient, medieval and modern history provide a considerable body of evidence that strong dogma will never bring about a united church with a standard belief and common purpose.

It will be proposed in these days, when we are shaken inwardly by waves of uncertainty and anxiety, that strong dogma is needed not so much to provide a united, Christian church, but rather because we desperately need a feeling of certainty about the proposals of religion -- the nature of God and the destiny of man. We have a great hunger for faith, or so it is said. Therefore there are those even in the liberal church who would maintain that a dogma of salvation should not permit radical questions or assertions and teaching and preaching should ignore the contradictions of scientific and natural evidence which point out the inconsistencies or the preposterous nature of the faith of other times. Otherwise, it is feared that the walls of faith will weaken and crumble.

If we hold assured convictions about religion, we will then be comforted in all difficulty and possess inner peace in the face of all unfortunate circumstance, or so we are told.

The idea of the conformity of our middle-class culture has become an over-worked whipping boy, perhaps. However, two things are of constant wonder to me. One is the willingness with which we acquiesce in the colossal extravagance beyond description to prepare for a war which can never be fought. Secondly, the assurance with which the average person will endorse organized religion, while at the same time hastily retreat, or become hostile, if any of the ancient interpretations he professes are questioned in the light of [what] modern man knows about the origins of religion and culture, and what modern man has begun to learn about the impersonal, orderliness of our amazing universe.

No mature person will deny that it is gratifying to feel comfortable and secure about life's ultimate meanings. Strong dogma may provide that assurance about salvation, but there is a high cost to such authoritarianism. Dostoevsky created the classic illustration of the weakness of strong dogma in THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV.

You may remember that Ivan tells his brother, Alyosha about the Grand Inquisitor of Seville during the Inquisition when every day saw the torturing and burning of alleged heretics. In Ivan's parable, Christ comes again after fifteen centuries and chooses Seville. He arrives the day following the burning of one hundred heretics.

The story about Christ goes, "He came softly, unobserved, and yet, strange to say, every one of them recognized Him. The people are irresistibly drawn to Him, they surround Him. He moves silently with a gentle smile of infinite compassion." The returned Savior heals the sick and revives the dead.

Tall and erect though nearly ninety years of age, the Cardinal Inquisitor arrives, sees the crowd and Savior. The Inquisitor bids the guards seize Christ. The crowd bows in submission to the Grand Inquisitor as the guards lead Christ to the dungeon.

In the evening, the Grand Inquisitor visits the cell of Christ. The Cardinal speaks, "...When, then, hast Thou come to hinder us? For Thou knowest Thou has come to hinder us. I know not who Thou art and care not to know whether it is Thou or only a semblance of Him, but tomorrow I shall condemn Thee and burn Thee at the stake as the worst of heretics. And the very people who have today kissed Thy feet, tomorrow at the faintest sign from me will rush to heap up the embers of Thy fire."

The prisoner says not a word. The Cardinal Inquisitor goes on sternly, "Didst Thou not often say then, 'I will make you free'? But now Thou has seen those 'free' men. Yes, we've paid dearly for it, but at least we have completed that work in thy name. For fifteen centuries we have been wrestling with Thy freedom, but now it is ended and over for good. Dost Thou not believe that it's over for good? Thou lookest meekly at me and deignest not even to be wroth with me. But let me tell Thee that now, today, people are more persuaded than ever that they have perfect freedom, yet they have brought their freedom and laid it humbly at our feet. But that has been our doing."

Alyosha breaks into Ivan's story, "Is he ironical, is he jesting?"

Ivan says, "Not a bit of it. He claims it as a merit for himself and his Church that at last they have vanquished freedom and have done so to make men happy." He goes on with the Inquisitor's speech, as the Cardinal rebukes Christ, "For now for the first time it has become possible to think of the happiness of men. Man was created a rebel and how can rebels be happy? Thou was warned. Thou has had no lack of admonitions and warnings, but Thou did not listen to those warnings; Thou didst reject the only way by which men might be happy. But fortunately departing, Thou didst hand on the work to us. Thou has promised, Thou hast established Thy word, Thou has given to us the right to bind and to unbind, and now, of course, Thou canst not think of taking it away. Why, then has Thou come to hinder us?"

When the Inquisitor has finished his long rebuke, Ivan tells his brother that the Inquisitor "waited for some time for his prisoner to answer him. He saw that the prisoner had listened intently all the time looking gently in his face and evidently not wishing to reply. The old Cardinal longed for Him to say something, however bitter and terrible. But He suddenly approached the old man in silence and kissed him. That was all His answer. The old man shuddered, 'Go away and come no more ... come not at all, never, never.' The prisoner went away."

The weakness of strong dogma is that when you build walls around man you make him less than man. When one excludes the dissenter for his beliefs, no matter how radical those beliefs may be, one is saying that the church is so uncertain about its worth and purpose that it cannot afford to tolerate non-conforming opinion; that it has no conviction of its persuasive power. Robert Frost wrote, "something there is that doesn't love a wall." It's the nature of the universe.

Last Wednesday our family went to the Cleveland Zoo. Obviously the Zoo is splendidly organized and operated competently. The cages are clean and the animals regularly fed. The captive gorillas have automobile tires to play with and quantities of peanuts are thrown to the bears. Beyond question, the gorillas is more protected than in the jungle -- there is no danger he need fear. The antelope are protected from the lurking lion. The sea lions merely have to beg for fish and they are fed.

Yet how many of us would exchange hazardous freedom for comfortable bondage? The most kindly zoo-keeper is not sufficient attraction, even in the area of human religious life. I suspect that comfortable animals would prefer a brief, free life of danger rather than long years of comfortable prison, if they possessed human powers of discrimination.

This is an illustration that hints at the weakness of strong dogma and the strength of a free faith. Of course a free faith is difficult and perilous. There are times when one casts away all the old beliefs and starts all over to find meaning and purpose. But there are beliefs which should be torn right out at the roots. Giordano Bruno, the scientist who was burned at the stake because he would not accept strong dogma, once queried, "If a coat is buttoned wrong, how can you right it unless you unbutton and start over again and take the first step correctly?"

The historic movements of organized religion have been kept alive by the heretics who refused to wear the wrongly buttoned coat of strong dogma. The real radicals, that is, those who have tried to go to the roots of the Christian heritage, have found in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke not a quantity of dogma, but a quality of living. Aside from the individual excerpts which can be wrenched out of context, the total impression of these gospels is not an emphasis on right belief, but right doing. In the doing there is implied the principle that the truth will assert and defend itself in a free market of ideas.

In THE SLEEPWALKERS, Arthur Koestler writes stimulating biographical sketches of some of the ancient scientists who made great advances for the human family. Koestler remarks, "the psychological process of discovery is the most concise manifestation of man's creative faculty."

A faith which values life and is open-minded to any truths old and new which contribute to better living is certainly not less valuable than devotion to ancient piety.

But discovery of truth is impossible when strong dogma prevents the reviewing and revising of old truths in the light of new findings. In the gospel of Matthew it is told that the people were astounded at the teachings of Jesus. Why? He taught not a dogma but a doing. In the doing was a principle of truth-finding. "Everyone who listens to this teaching of mine and acts upon it, will be like a sensible man."

One of the principal justifications for the religious organization known as the liberal church is the acceptance of religious truth as continuously changing as a consequence of new reflection on old and new experience. We cannot remain in the "faith of our fathers living still" because that faith was hewed out in the experience of another day and different insights.

Thus, we have no united theological position. We have no dogma you must believe. We make no appeal for loyalty to dogma. Difficult--? Of course. But who ever said seriously that religion should be easy? Freedom from dogma should not destroy or dilute loyalty to religion. Rather, freedom from dogma should breed great loyalty to an institution which professes human values which will result in human betterment.

Of course freedom is perilous. Ferdinand Magellan, the circumnavigator of the globe, said "The church says the earth is flat, but I know that it is round, for I have seen its shadow on the moon, and I have more faith in a shadow than in the church." That was a statement of great faith.

Your loyalty to a church of the free-mind principle is justified when the question is asked, "Who speaks for Man?" For the only answer worthy of one human family bound by common origin and common purpose is that "Man in his freedom speaks for Man."