
Lutherans' and magisterial Protestantism's view on the authority of the Church Fathers is a sticky, tricky, confusing issue.

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This is about the Sum of our Doctrine, in which, as can be seen, there is nothing that varies from the Scriptures, or from the Church Catholic, or from the Church of Rome as known from its writers. This being the case, they judge harshly who insist that our teachers be regarded as heretics. There is, however, disagreement on certain Abuses, which have crept into the Church without rightful authority.
(Article XXI: Of the Worship of the Saints)
. . . this teaching is grounded clearly in the Holy Scriptures and is not contrary or opposed to that of the universal Christian church, or even of the Roman church (in so far as the latter's teaching is reflected in the writings of the Fathers), we think that our opponents cannot disagree with us in the articles set forth above.
ARTICLES IN WHICH ARE REVIEWED THE ABUSES WHICH HAVE BEEN CORRECTED.
Inasmuch, then, as our churches dissent in no article of the faith from the Church Catholic, but only omit some abuses which are new, and which have been erroneously accepted by the corruption of the times, contrary to the intent of the Canons, we pray that Your Imperial Majesty would graciously hear both what has been changed, and what were the reasons why the people were not compelled to observe those abuses against their conscience.
(Ibid.)And the term "person" they use as the Fathers have used it, to signify, not a part or quality in another, but that which subsists of itself.
(Article I)
The same is also taught by the Fathers. For Ambrose says: It is ordained of God that he who believes in Christ is saved, freely receiving remission of sins, without works, by faith alone.
(Article VI)
And lest any one should craftily say that a new interpretation of Paul has been devised by us, this entire matter is supported by the testimonies of the Fathers. For Augustine, in many volumes, defends grace and the righteousness of faith, over against the merits of works. And Ambrose, in his De Vocatione Gentium, and elsewhere, teaches to like effect.
(Article XX)
Now, forasmuch as the Mass is such a giving of the Sacrament, we hold one communion every holy-day, and, if any desire the Sacrament, also on other days,
when it is given to such as ask for it. And this custom is not new in the Church; for the Fathers before Gregory make no mention of any private Mass, but of the common Mass [the Communion] they speak very much. Chrysostom says that the priest stands daily at he altar, inviting some to the Communion and keeping back others.
. . . Forasmuch, therefore, as the Mass with us has the example of the Church, taken from the Scripture and the Fathers, we are confident that it cannot be disapproved, especially since public ceremonies, for the most part like those hitherto in use, are retained; only the number of Masses differs, which, because of very great and manifest abuses doubtless might be profitably reduced. For in olden times, even in churches most frequented, the Mass was not celebrated every day, as the Tripartite History (Book 9, chap. 33) testifies: Again in Alexandria, every Wednesday and Friday the Scriptures are read, and the doctors expound them, and all things are done, except the solemn rite of Communion.
(Article XXIV)
Such liberty in human rites was not unknown to the Fathers. For in the East they kept Easter at another time than at Rome, and when, on account of this diversity, the Romans accused the Eastern Church of schism, they were admonished by others that such usages need not be alike everywhere. And Irenaeus says: Diversity concerning fasting does not destroy the harmony of faith; as also Pope Gregory intimates in Dist. XII, that such diversity does not violate the unity of the Church. And in the Tripartite History, Book 9, many examples of dissimilar rites are gathered, and the following statement is made: It was not the mind of the Apostles to enact rules concerning holy-days, but to preach godliness and a holy life [, to teach faith and love].
(Article XXVI)
In reference to original sin we therefore hold nothing differing either from Scripture or from the Church catholic, but cleanse from corruptions and restore to light most important declarations of Scripture and of the Fathers, that had been covered over by the sophistical controversies of modern theologians. For it is manifest from the subject itself that modern theologians have not noticed what the Fathers meant when they spake of defect [lack of original righteousness].
. . . For they clearly call concupiscence sin, which, nevertheless, is not imputed to those who are in Christ although by nature it is a matter worthy of death where it is not forgiven. Thus, beyond all controversy, the Fathers believe. For Augustine, in a long discussion refutes the opinion of those who thought that concupiscence in man is not a fault but an adiaphoron, as color of the body or ill health is said to be an adiaphoron [as to have a black or a white body is neither good nor evil].
. . . But if the adversaries will contend that the fomes [or evil inclination] is an adiaphoron, not only many passages of Scripture but simply the entire Church [and all the Fathers] will contradict them.
. . . For this reason our preachers have diligently taught concerning these subjects, and have delivered nothing that is new but have set forth Holy Scripture and the judgments of the holy Fathers.
. . . We have thought it worth while only to recite, in customary and well-known words, the belief of the holy Fathers, which we also follow.
(Part I, Article 2: Of Original Sin)
We have testimonies for this our belief, not only from the Scriptures, but also from the Fathers.
(Part II, Article 4: Of Justification)
Here and there among the Fathers similar testimonies are extant.
(Part V)
But concerning this topic we will collect more testimonies below, although they are everywhere obvious not only in the Scriptures, but also in the holy Fathers.
(Part VI, Article III)
But the subject is well known, and has very many and very clear testimonies in Scripture, and in the Church Fathers, who all with one mouth declare that, even though we have good works yet in these very works we need mercy . . . Nor should we be regarded as teaching anything new in this matter, since the Church Fathers have so clearly handed down the doctrine that even in good works we need mercy.
(Part IX)
For we know that those things which we have said are in harmony with the prophetic and apostolic Scriptures, with the holy Fathers, Ambrose, Augustine and very many others, and with the whole Church of Christ, which certainly confesses that Christ is Propitiator and Justifier.
. . . For the Scriptures the holy Fathers, and the judgments of all the godly everywhere make reply.
. . . Hence the judgments of our adversaries will not disturb us, since they defend human opinions contrary to the Gospel, contrary to the authority of the holy Fathers, who have written in the Church, and contrary to the testimonies of godly minds.
(Part X)
. . . that the good are in the Church both in fact and in name. And to this effect there are many passages in the Fathers.
. . . And the writings of the holy Fathers testify . . .
(Part XI: Articles 7 and 8)
I can defend my earlier arguments, that in the four areas I mentioned (and in many, if not all others), the Catholic Church is far more consonant with the teaching of the fathers and the early Church than Lutheranism is. The present argument has to do not with the nature of the "Reformation" per se (another great discussion for another time), but rather, with whether it is a closer adherent to patristic doctrine than Catholic teaching was and is.
I think that Catholic dogmatic doctrine (not secondary applications or disciplinary measures like the nature of fasts or feast days, etc., or priestly celibacy) "changes" insofar as it consistently develops. It is consistent with itself. It "changes" in the way an acorn changes into an oak tree, all the while retaining the same identity.
Now, you claim, curiously to me, of Luther and Melancthon that "they were the ones who substituted the rule of secular princes for the episcopacy which had previously been the norm." What the reformers sought from the German princes was assistance in reforming the church in their territories; there was no revolution in bishop-prince relations implied. Lutheran princes exerted no more power, in general, in their territories than Catholic German ones did in theirs. Changes occurred, of course; else there would be no point to bringing the princes into the process. But the changes were within the ordinary scope of German politics since the emergence of Germany as a recognizeable political entity. If you could sharpen your point it would be appreciated.
Sure; I'd be happy to do so.
With isolated exceptions . . . we find everywhere the opinions which are exactly in harmony wlth those of the territorial prince of the day, striving their utmost to suppress all differing views. The theory of the absolute Church authority of the secular powers was in itself enough to make a system of tolerance impossible on the Protestant side . . . From the very first religious life among the Protestants was
influenced by the hopeless contradiction that on the one hand Luther imposed it
as a sacred duty on every individual, in all matters of faith, to set aside every authority, above all that of the Church, and to follow only his own judgment, while on the other hand the reformed theologians gave the secular princes power over the religion of their land and subjects . . . 'Luther never attempted to solve this contradiction. In practice he was content that the princes should have supreme control over religion, doctrine and Church, and that it was their right and their duty
to suppress every religious creed which differed from their own.'
(Johannes Janssen, History of the German People From the Close of the Middle Ages, 16 volumess, translated by A.M. Christie, St. Louis: B. Herder, 1910 [orig. 1891]. XIV, 230-231; citing Johann von Dollinger: Kirche und Kirchen, 1861, 52 ff.)
Melanchthon had afterwards abundant reason to regret his appeal to secular power . . . Hence his exclamation: 'If only I could revive the jurisdiction of the bishops! For I see what sort of Church we shall have if the ecclesiastical constitution is destroyed.'
(Hartmann Grisar, Luther, translated by E.M. Lamond, ed. Luigi Cappadelta, 6 volumes, London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1917. VI, 270; Bretschneider, editor, Corpus Reformation, Halle, 1846, II, 234; letter to Camerarius)
The Church government became identical very soon with the state government in the Lutheran countries, and with the society government we call it "trustees in the Calvinist countries. The reason was that the hierarchy had been removed by Luther. There is no pope, no bishops, no priests, in the technical sense. Who shall govern in the Church? Now of course first of all the ministers, but they are not sufficient; they have no power. The power comes from the princes, or from free associations with society, as we have very often in Calvinism. Therefore the princes are called by Luther the highest bishops of their realm. But they are not to interfere with the inner-religious things; they have to perform the administration the ius circa sacrum, the right around the sacred, but not into the sacred, which remains for the ministers, and every Christian.
The situation which produced this was an emergency situation. There were no bishops, no authorities, any more; but the Church needed administration and government. And so emergency bishops were created, and nobody else could be this except the electors and princes.
Out of this situation, which Luther accepted as an emergency situation, something occurred already, when it began to work, namely the state Church in Germany. The
Church became more or less and I think "more" than "less" a department of the state administration, and the princes became the arbiters of the Church in all respects. This is not intentionally so, but it shows that a Church needs a political backbone. In Catholicism it was the Pope and the hierarchy; in Protestantism it was the "outstanding members of the communion" who must take over, after the bishops have disappeared either the princes, or social groups in more democratic countries, or if the princes do not take it.
(The History of Christian Thought, Paul Tillich; Lecture 34: Luther (cont.) Christology, Doctrines of the Church and State. Zwingli)
Interestingly, it is with Luther's explicit understanding of temporal authority that the picture of Luther the freedom-fighter is most out-of-focus. For within his vision of the necessity for and justification of the secular arm, we see a harshness that inclines toward political authoritarianism, toward the absolute state. The markers of the story refer back to the question of authority, a problematic inseparable from issues of legitimacy, force, order, as well as freedom. In "An Open Letter to the German Nobility," Luther appeals to the secular princes to reform the church by openly revolting against its institutional forms and the authority internal to, and flowing from, those forms. His treatise is a wide-ranging, often vituperative rejection of the ecclesiastical edifice of medieval Christiandom. He strips the church, as an institutional edifice, of authority-he de-authorizes the church-yet he simultaneously valorizes secular authority.
The paradox here is startling and explicit, requiring no hermeneutical cleverness to expose. In depoliticizing the church, Luther does not so much break the bonds of authority as draw them ever tighter by providing for the flow of all legitimate authority over persons and events, over "externals," to secular rule. Assaulting the "three walls of the Romanists" (we discussed the "second wall," the pope's exclusive interpretive authority), Luther counters the claim that temporal power has no jurisdiction over the spiritual. To the contrary, the pope should have no authority over the emperor or any other lawfully established princes. But the obverse does not pertain. "I say," he writes, that "the temporal power is ordained of God to punish evil-doers and to protect them that do well…. Therefore, [it should] be left free to perform its office without hindrance throughout the whole body of Christendom." The nobility should set themselves against the pope "as against a common enemy." Further deauthorization of the church is proclaimed by Luther in another of his great treatises, "The Babylonian Captivity of the Church," in which he takes on the
sacraments and diminishes the church's mission as dispenser of sacred
ritual.
By stripping political power of restraints exercised by ecclesiastical institutions and by downgrading the "right of resistance," a major and growing strain in medieval thought lodged in the idea of a social contract, Luther also squeezed out space for notions of rule based on the consent of the governed. He limits resistance to that of the individual commanded in a matter of faith-but faith, like freedom, pertains only to the "inner" self, not to "externals." In general, the prince should be obstructed in his grim work neither by pope "above" nor "the people" below. A new theory of the state and an attack against the doctrine of a natural right to resist tyrannical rule go hand-in-hand in Luther's thought. Luther's symbol of temporal rule is the sword-the bloody sword always unsheathed and at the ready.
(Luther Sic-Luther Non, Jean Bethke Elshtain) [link]
The apostolic succession of its bishops, which the official church claims for itself, does not necessarily imply the succession of truth and of the genuine apostolic gospel . . .
A theory of church history formulated in terms of the organic development of the church cannot simply explain the decisions and development of the empirical church by assuming that the Holy Spirit has led the church.
(Paul Althaus, The Theology of Martin Luther, translated by Robert C. Schultz, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1966, 342-343)
Reformed Protestantism's historic distinction between the passive or imputed
righteousness of Christ given in justification, and the active or infused righteousness given in sanctification, has its genesis in Luther's thought. Prior to Luther justification had been tied to regeneration, so that the forgiveness of sins was viewed not merely as a forensic declaration of the believer's status as righteous before God, but as a process whereby the believer is actually made righteous. In this way, as Alister McGrath has pointed out, Luther introduced a theological novum into the Western church tradition 'which marks a complete break with the tradition up to this point.' [1]
[Footnote 1: Alister McGrath, Iustitia Dei: A History of the Christian Doctrine of Justification. Two volumes. Cambridge University Press, 1986. See Volume I pages 182ff. and Volume II pages 2f. The quotation is from II:]
The Reformers did not deny the reality of infused righteousness. Indeed, they insisted that justifying (passive) righteousness never exists apart from sanctifying (active) righteousness. [2] At the same time, however, they made a 'notional distinction' between justification and sanctification where none had previously existed.
[3]
[Footnote 2: John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion III.2.8. Footnote 3: McGrath, Iustitia Dei II.2]
. . . Whatever may have occasioned Luther's shift in thinking between 1521 and 1535, it is a matter of historical record that after about 1530 the Protestant Reformers defined justification almost solely in forensic terms as the forgiveness of sins.
[Footnote 38: McGrath, Iustitia Dei II 2. See also McGrath's comment on page 23 that Philip Melanchthon's increasing emphasis on iustitia aliena from about 1530 onward provided the chief impetus to this shift. To what degree Melanchthon influenced Luther, or vice-versa, is beyond the scope of this study.]
. . . In addition to Luther, three classical Christian sources demonstrate that prior to the Reformation the Church viewed justification as both an event and a process. These three are Augustine, Anselm of Canterbury, and Thomas Aquinas.
[Footnote 47: It must be noted that both Anselm and Aquinas followed Augustine in that neither entertained the Reformers' notional distinction between justification and sanctification, and both tended to emphasize infused righteousness.]
As regards the pre-Augustinian Church, there is in our time a striking convergence of scholarly opinion that Scripture and Tradition are for the early Church in no sense mutually exclusive: kerygma, Scripture and Tradition coincide entirely. The Church preaches the kerygma which is to be found in toto in written form in the canonical books.
The Tradition is not understood as an addition to the kerygma contained in Scripture but as the handing down of that same kerygma in living form: in other words everything is to be found in Scripture and at the same time everything is in the living Tradition.
It is in the living, visible Body of Christ, inspired and vivified by the operation of the Holy Spirit, that Scripture and Tradition coinhere . . . Both Scripture and Tradition issue from the same source: the Word of God, Revelation . . . Only within the Church can this kerygma be handed down undefiled . . .
(Heiko Oberman, The Harvest of Medieval Theology, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, rev. 1967, 366-367)
Clearly it is an anachronism to superimpose upon the discussions of the second and third centuries categories derived from the controversies over the relation of Scripture and tradition in the 16th century, for 'in the ante-Nicene Church . . . there was no notion of sola Scriptura, but neither was there a doctrine of traditio sola.'. . . (1)
The apostolic tradition was a public tradition . . . So palpable was this apostolic tradition that even if the apostles had not left behind the Scriptures to serve as normative evidence of their doctrine, the church would still be in a position to follow 'the structure of the tradition which they handed on to those to whom they committed the churches (2).' This was, in fact, what the church was doing in those barbarian territories where believers did not have access to the written deposit, but still carefully guarded the ancient tradition of the apostles, summarized in the creed . . .
The term 'rule of faith' or 'rule of truth' . . . seems sometimes to have meant the
'tradition,' sometimes the Scriptures, sometimes the message of the gospel . . .
In the . . . Reformation . . . the supporters of the sole authority of Scripture . . . overlooked the function of tradition in securing what they regarded as the correct exegesis of Scripture against heretical alternatives.
(Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine: Vol.1 of 5: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100-600), Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1971, 115-117, 119; citations: 1. In Cushman, Robert E. & Egil Grislis, eds., The Heritage of Christian Thought: Essays in Honor of Robert Lowry Calhoun, New York: 1965, quote from Albert Outler, "The Sense of Tradition in the Ante-Nicene Church," 29. 2. St. Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 3:4:1)
It should be unnecessary to accumulate further evidence. Throughout the whole period Scripture and tradition ranked as complementary authorities, media
different in form but coincident in content. To inquire which counted as superior or more ultimate is to pose the question in misleading terms. If Scripture was abundantly sufficient in principle, tradition was recognized as the surest clue to its interpretation, for in tradition the Church retained, as a legacy from the apostles which was embedded in all the organs of her institutional life, an unerring grasp of the real purport and meaning of the revelation to which Scripture and tradition alike bore witness.
(J.N.D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines, San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1978, 47-48)
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to enkindle that intimate and fervent life of prayer which is excited by the Catholic service of Mass. I have observed the life of prayer in both communions, long and carefully . . . and I have again and again received the impression that . . . there is more and more inward prayer in Catholic than in Protestant worship . . . I am continually reminded of Wellhausen's characteristic saying that Protestant worship is at bottom Catholic worship . . . with the heart taken out of it. "
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Maybe, maybe not. I'm not sure what, exactly, needs defending here.
A. Lutherans claim to revere the opinions of the Fathers, too, though not quite granting their consensus the authority that Catholics do. They do not claim to be ahistorical, or to have no concern about what the early Church widely held.I have suggested several such disjunctions. You essentially concede the argument by admitting that some of these things were virtually unknown among the fathers. Apostolic succession is the first such case.
B. Lutheranism (and larger Protestantism) claimed to be a "reform"; i.e., going back or restoring what was before, in the early Church, not a "revolution" (introducing sheer novelties which were practically nonexistent before that time).
C. Therefore (if Lutherans are correct in this), we should expect to see something akin to Lutheranism dominating in the early Church, over against something akin to Catholicism.
D. To the extent that we do not find such a state of affairs, the Lutheran claim of (broad) fidelity to the fathers (more so than Catholic fidelity to same) is suspect and historically incorrect.
Augustine was comfortable challenging contemporary popes on his own authority. By Luther's time, no bishop could stand against a pope the way Augustine could stand against Zosimus.
That's a long discussion, and far from the matter of Scripture and Tradition per se.
On reflection upon how things stood in the 16th century, and especially after his exchanges with Cajetan and Eck, Luther found that only scripture could stand between councils, popes, and error. This was a novel position at the time,
You said it. Let the reader note (as this is exactly what my argument is: that Lutheranism in many respects was a sheer novelty). And you guys wonder why the Catholics at the time objected to it; this being the case?
when conciliarism was thought to be the only alternative to papalism. Cajetan attempted to steer Luther toward conciliarism (a position out of favor in Rome, but not heretical); Eck swept the conciliar rug out from under Luther in their debate. Luther was left with nothing but a double negative position, neither popes nor councils being authoritative, and from this he eventually developed sola scriptura.
I agree entirely; couldn't have stated it better myself. What I want to know (what I always ask) is: why would anyone accept Luther's "novel position" (again, your description, not mine), over against the entire history of Church opinion? I think this is the $64,000 question for Lutherans, but I have the greatest difficulty finding any who want to discuss it. We've made a great start here. I hope it can go to the second "round" of the dialogue (which is always more interesting than the first round).
4. The early Church and the Fathers (particularly St. Augustine) believed in the Sacrifice of the Mass. Luther and Calvin threw it out as an abomination, sacrilege, and idolatry.
Absolutely. This is sola scriptura in action.
Now you have conceded all four points of my argument, so this has really been no dispute at all, in terms of what my original contention was. You haven't disputed any of that. You've only argued (very nicely, but firmly) that Lutheran positions were superior on other grounds. Here, you are willing to base a rejection of an ancient, universal belief and practice, based on a "novel position" developed by Luther under duress and the stress of debate, when the inconsistencies of his position were pointed out to him (which has been exactly my opinion as well, of the historical origin of sola Scriptura). So, in effect, Luther has more authority than the entire Church of the previous 1500 years. It didn't and doesn't matter what that Church held, if Luther disagreed with it. That's why I have referred to Luther as a "super-Pope." No Catholic pope ever had remotely this much authority, to overturn so much of what existed previously.
Christ's sacrifice was the one sacrifice sufficient for all. To continue to offer new sacrifices (even if they are, in some mysterious sense, the same sacrifice in a new location) denies the totality of the original sacrifice on Golgotha.
It does not at all, but that's another involved argument, too. The relevant thing presently is to understand that the early Church taught this, and Protestants rejected it. As Catholics, we would normally want to understand the grounds for such a radical change. We deny that Luther or Calvin or any other early Protestant had the right to do such a thing. They were acting no differently than early heretics did; those heretics were renounced and rebuked based on past doctrinal history and what the Church held in its Tradition, based on apostolic succession. Scripture Alone could not and did not settle these disputes. Same with Luther. He disagrees with the Church? He is a heretic, then, inasmuch as he does so (he didn't dissent in all areas, of course).
Now this is not to suggest that Luther and Calvin agreed on sola scriptura; they did not. Luther sought to expunge from Latin practice those things that contradicted Gospel in letter or spirit; Calvin sought to retain those that were scripturally affirmed. There's alot of murky territory between those two positions.
I agree, but it is beyond our purview.
Thanks very much for your thoughts. I hope we can continue this discussion.
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I suspect that we should find several occasions when Christendom was thus to all appearance hollowed out from within by doubt and indifference, so that only the old Christian shell stood as the pagan shell had stood so long. But the difference is that in every such case, the sons were fanatical for the faith where the fathers had been slack about it. This is obvious in the case of the transition from the Renaissance to the Counter-Reformation. It is obvious in the case of a transition from the eighteenth century to the many Catholic revivals of our own time . . . Just as some might have thought the Church simply a part of the Roman Empire, so others later might have thought the Church only a part of the Dark Ages. The Dark Ages ended as the Empire had ended; and the Church should have departed with them, if she had
been also one of the shades of night.
. . . At least five times, . . . with the Arian and the Albigensian, with the Humanist sceptic, after Voltaire and after Darwin, the Faith has to all appearance gone to the dogs. In each of these five cases it was the dog that died.
(The Everlasting Man, Garden City, NY: Doubleday Image, 1925, 250-252, 254)
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