(Mis)Understanding Wesley’s Catholic Spirit

by Steve | Jan 9, 2013 | Uncategorized

By Kevin Watson

“Though we can’t think alike, may we not love alike?”

This phrase is one of the most frequently cited and most frequently misused quotes by United Methodists. The phrase is typically used to argue that doctrinal agreement is unimportant compared to loving one another. It is the go-to quote for Methodists who argue that Wesley was not interested in correct beliefs. However, I am convinced that most people who use this quote have not actually read much of John Wesley, much less this sermon.

Consider for example the following quote from Wesley at the end of the sermon when he is describing what a “catholic spirit” is and is not. “It is not an indifference to all opinions. This is the spawn of hell, not the offspring of heaven. This unsettledness of thought… is a great curse, not a blessing; an irreconcilable enemy, not a friend, to true catholicism.”

The confusion surrounding this sermon is understandable, because in the introduction to the sermon Wesley does say that differences of opinion or belief should never prevent Christians from loving one another. Here is the entire paragraph the well-worn quote is found within:

“But although a difference in opinions or modes of worship may prevent an entire external union, yet need it prevent our union in affection? Though we can’t think alike, may we not love alike? May we not be of one heart, though we are not of one opinion? Without all doubt we may. Herein all the children of God may unite, notwithstanding these smaller differences. These remaining as they are, they may forward one another in love and in good works.”

Wesley then frames the rest of the sermon around the brief exchange between Jehu and Jehonadab in 2 Kings 10:15. Wesley wrote: “The text naturally divides itself into two parts. First a question proposed by Jehu to Jehonadab, ‘Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart?’ Secondly, an offer made on Jehonadab’s answering, ‘It is.’ – ‘If it be, give me thine hand.’”

In answering the first question, “Is thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart?” Wesley argues that differences of opinion are unavoidable. More interestingly, he argues that everyone thinks all of their opinions are true, but also knows that he is likely wrong about some of the things that he believes, “He knows in the general that he himself is mistaken; although in what particulars he mistakes he does not, perhaps cannot, know.” In essence, Wesley is arguing for epistemic humility. He wants people to acknowledge that as strongly as they hold their opinions, they could be wrong.

Wesley then turns to the various ways that people worship God. Wesley argues that, “everyone must follow the dictates of his own conscience in simplicity and godly sincerity.” And again, Wesley argues for a tolerance of a diversity of practice when it comes to different denominations, and different practices of the sacrament.

Then, Wesley asks “what should a follower of Christ understand” when he is asked “is thy heart right with God?” Then, for more than two pages Wesley asks questions that must all be answered affirmatively in order to receive the endorsement “thy heart is right, as my heart is with thy heart.” Here are a few of the questions Wesley asks:

• Is thy heart right with God? Dost thou believe his being, and his perfections? His eternity, immensity, wisdom, power; his justice, mercy, and truth?

• And that he governs even the most minute, even the most noxious, to his own glory, and the good of them that love him?

• Dost thou believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, ‘God over all, blessed for ever’? Is he ‘revealed in’ thy soul?

• Is he ‘formed in thy heart by faith?’

• Having absolutely disclaimed all thy own works, thy own righteousness, hast thou ‘submitted thyself unto the righteousness of God’, ‘which is by faith in Christ Jesus’?

• Is God the centre of thy soul? The sum of all thy desires?

• Art thou more afraid of displeasing God than either of death or hell? Is nothing so terrible to thee as the thought of ‘offending the eyes of his glory’? Upon this ground dost thou ‘hate all evil ways’, every transgression of his holy and perfect law?

The list of questions continues. Here, there are two things to notice.

1. Wesley is not dismissing either the importance of beliefs or of action. He actually seems very concerned to vet the person he is considering joining hands with, asking them a litany of questions. He is not shrugging his shoulders and saying, “I guess your truth is just different than my truth.”

2. The list of questions is filled with doctrinal assumptions! Among other things, the questions about the first person of the Trinity ask the person to affirm the classical understanding of the perfections of God. The questions about Jesus require the person to affirm the divinity of Christ, the necessity of justification by faith, and the new birth. There is at least an implicit affirmation of original sin and there is an assumption of agreement on hating sin and being determined to avoid transgression of his holy and perfect law.

People often read this sermon to suggest that Wesley thinks people with different understandings of sin should just agree to love each other. I’m not sure that pays sufficient attention to what Wesley is actually saying in this sermon. Another way of saying this is that I don’t think Wesley’s understanding of “opinions” would have included disagreements about sin. Wesley was a man of his time and thought that sin was clearly spelled out in scripture.

Wesley then shifts his attention to what it means to join hands. For him it is not pretending to embrace one another’s opinions or modes of worship. Rather, “Hold you fast that which you believe is most acceptable to God, and I will do the same.”

Here is how Wesley describes joining hands. Wesley expects someone who joins hands with him to:

• Love him “as a friend that is closer than a brother; as a brother in Christ.” He further asks, “Love me with the love that ‘covereth all things’, that never reveals either my faults or infirmities; that ‘believeth all things’, is always willing to think the best, to put the fairest construction on all my words and actions…”

• Pray for him.

• Provoke him to love and good works. In this Wesley includes, “O speak and spare not, whatever thou believest may conduce either to the amending my faults, the strengthening my weakness, the building me up in love, or the making me more fit in any kind for the Master’s use.”

• Love him not in word only, but in deed and in truth.

Finally, Wesley turns his attention in the last part of the sermon to his understanding of a “catholic spirit.” Interestingly he begins, “There is scarce any expression which has been more grossly misunderstood and more dangerously misapplied than this.” He then offers three statements of what a catholic spirit is not.

• A catholic spirit is not “speculative latitudinarianism,” an eighteenth century term that referred to “an indifference to all opinions.” For Wesley, this is “the spawn of hell, not the offspring of heaven… an irreconcilable enemy, not a friend, to true catholicism.” He continues:

“Observe this, you who know not what spirit ye are of, who call yourselves men of a catholic spirit only because you are of a muddy understanding; because your mind is all in a mist; because you have no settled, consistent principles, but are for jumbling all opinions together. Be convinced that you have quite missed your way: you know not where you are. You think you are got into the very spirit of Christ, when in truth you are nearer the spirit of antichrist. Go first and learn the first elements of the gospel of Christ, and then shall you learn to be of a truly catholic spirit.”

• A catholic spirit is not “practical latitudinarianism” or an indifference to public worship and the way it is conducted.

• A catholic spirit is not “indifference to all congregations.”

Closing observations

Let me close with these three observations.

1. Wesley is making the case for charity and a hermeneutic of generosity towards others. He is realistic in his acknowledgement that people will not agree about everything. I also suspect that he takes the call to love one another more seriously than most people who appeal to this sermon do. (I.e., do we really love those we disagree with like they are our brothers and sisters, or best friends? Do we spend serious time on our knees in prayer for them, begging God to bless them and pour himself into their lives in new ways?) The sermon reminds me of the room for growth I have in loving those with whom I disagree. And it reminds me that it takes work, it is not something to merely be vaguely affirmed.

2. I don’t think this sermon supports the “Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors” motto that some love and some love to hate. Saying that Wesley is arguing for open-mindedness in this sermon is much too simplistic. He is actually saying that Christians should be close-minded in their own beliefs, but generous and charitable with those with whom they disagree. Put differently, Wesley is arguing for certainty in the specifics of one’s faith that comes from careful thought and examination of the options and not a devaluing of the role of doctrine in order to have a bigger tent.

3. Speaking of big tents. My reading of this sermon is that Wesley would find a big tent vision for Methodism a liability and not an asset. For example, when he acknowledges disagreements about the sacraments, he does not seem to me to be arguing that the folks who disagree should try to worship in the same church. On the contrary, he seems to assume that they would not be a part of the same faith community, but they could still be a part of the church catholic. It makes me wonder if Wesley might view our experiment at unity within diversity as an attempt for one church to be the whole church catholic and if he might think that attempt itself lacked both humility and sense, particularly because we are so obviously not a full expression of the church catholic. A cursory reading of Wesley’s letters, for example, will provide multiple examples of Wesley defining which beliefs are acceptable within the movement he was the leader of and which ones meant that mutual cooperation was no longer possible. Wesley regularly enforced doctrinal/dogmatic uniformity among early Methodist preachers.

Ultimately, while it is probably technically true that contemporary Methodists do believe just about anything, I do not think one can use this sermon as justification for either deemphasizing doctrinal commitments or for a community of faith that lacks clarity about what its own vision for what faithfulness looks like.

Kevin Watson is Assistant Professor of Historical Theology and Wesleyan Studies at Seattle Pacific University.

Vietnamese pastor spreads God’s Word around the world

by Steve | Mar 12, 2008 | Uncategorized

Debating the old professor: C.S. Lewis and the advent of Aslan

by Steve | Oct 17, 2005 | Uncategorized

Debating the old professor: C.S. Lewis and the advent of Aslan

By Elizabeth V. Glass

2005

On February 2 of that year, Lewis attended a meeting of the Oxford University Socratic Club, an organization whose purpose was to debate issues related to Christianity. In the spirit of Socrates himself, the club was committed to “follow the argument wherever it led them.” The primary speaker for the evening was Elizabeth Anscombe, a brilliant young philosopher at Oxford, who read a paper attacking Lewis’ argument against naturalism in his recent book Miracles. (Naturalism is the belief that all that exists is the material world, and that all things can be explained without God and the supernatural.)

Although Anscombe herself was a Roman Catholic who embraced the existence of God, she found Lewis’ argument against naturalism fundamentally flawed. While Lewis lore has piled up like so many fur coats in his proverbial wardrobe, what is clear is that an exciting debate ensued that evening that has grown to legendary proportions over the years.

In his role as president of the Socratic Club, Lewis had gained a reputation as a formidable debater. But the results of the Lewis-Anscombe debate are themselves hotly contested. Some biographers recount it as “The Night That Lewis Lost.” Others, fearful of tarnishing his image as a scholar and defender of the faith, vehemently defend him. Still others claim that the debate was so disturbing to Lewis that he retreated from formal apologetics, turning to fiction instead. They cite the fact that it was soon after the debate with Anscombe that he began writing The Chronicles of Narnia. Did the celebrated Oxford intellectual and Christian apologist dodge the issues by sneaking into fairy tales, turning himself into the Old Professor of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe?

What emerges is a tangle of criticism and controversy. Like a battle on many fronts, there are multiple factors to weigh in interpreting Lewis’ contribution to academic as well as children’s literature. Some scholars turn their spectacles towards the actual issue that Lewis and Anscombe engaged, whether naturalism can be a coherent worldview. Other critics set their sights on how the encounter with Anscombe affected Lewis’ literary career. Did it shake his confidence in rational apologetics for the faith, or did he emerge personally unscathed but rhetorically defeated? To what degree was Anscombe on target in her criticism of his central argument in Miracles? Decades after the battle between Lewis and Anscombe, all of these queries recently held center stage yet again.

Among the spires of Oxford, England, the controversies of the legendary debate were brought to life by a dramatic re-enactment of the famous Socratic Club encounter. It was performed this past July at Oxbridge 2005, a summer convening of Lewis scholars and fans organized by the C.S. Lewis Institute and held every three years. The re-enactment gave the audience the opportunity to assess for themselves the merits of the arguments presented by Lewis and Anscombe. Adding to the historic significance of the re-enactment was the attendance of Professor Basil Mitchell, who knew Lewis, and succeeded him as President of the Socratic Club.

The script for the event, prepared by Dr. Jerry Walls, professor at Asbury Theological Seminary, and Phillip Tallon, graduate of Asbury Seminary and PhD candidate at St. Andrew’s University, Scotland, relied on several sources. Included by the editors were documents such as C.S. Lewis’ original chapter in Miracles against naturalism, Anscombe’s paper, Lewis’ revised chapter written after the debate, and notes taken by members of the Socratic Club. By weaving these sources together, Tallon and Walls were able to present a version of the debate true to the essence of the original. Staged at St. Aldate’s Church, Oxford, the script was convincingly delivered by British actors Robin Meredith and Christine Way. The performance itself served as a gateway into the world of Lewis and Anscombe, allowing the audience to step through the snow and join the lively professor alongside the cigar-smoking Anscombe.

Following the re-enactment, Gary Habermas of Liberty University interviewed world-renowned philosopher Antony Flew. Habermas has debated Flew publicly, developing a close friendship with him over the past few years. Professor Flew shared reflections on both the content and the significance of the 1948 debate. He attended Oxford and was present the night of the original debate at the Socratic Club. He recalled that Lewis seemed obviously distressed after the encounter, hurrying away across a bridge, while Anscombe exuberantly displayed a sense of triumph. The chat with Flew allowed the audience not only to hear first hand memories of the atmosphere of the debate, but also to catch a glimpse of the inner debate in Flew’s own recent life.

Flew is the son of noted Methodist theologian R. Newton Flew, but he is recognized as one of the most outspoken and influential atheists of our time. Lately, though, he has described himself as “an atheist with some very important questions,” and has shifted to deism. While deism is a form of belief in God, it does not accept special revelation like many major world religions would claim through their prophets and scriptures. Having represented the naturalistic worldview for so long, Flew’s transition to belief in God has caused a momentous stir in the academic community. In addition to making national news, the story even provided a joke for late night TV’s Jay Leno.

While Lewis and Anscombe went hammer and tong over the issue of whether reason requires a supernatural explanation, Flew was persuaded to belief in the supernatural by the imprint of intelligent design in the natural order. In other words, Lewis was firmly convinced that human reason can only be explained by the existence of the supernatural, while Flew was similarly persuaded by the evidence for ultimate reason and design in our universe. In this dramatic transition of thought, Dr. Flew exemplifies the spirit of the Socratic Club in following the argument wherever it leads, even after decades of embracing an opposing worldview.

Although Professor Flew now affirms the existence of God, he cited doctrines like the belief in hell into explain his rejection of Christianity and other major religions. At the conclusion of the interview with Flew, a new debate ensued that was much in the spirit of Lewis. Beginning with Dr. David Baggett of King’s College, Pennsylvania, a line of challengers rebutted Flew’s statements denying the plausibility of Christianity. The questioners included Peter Kreeft, noted Lewis scholar and professor of philosophy at Boston College, and Charles Colson, who had presented at the conference earlier in the week. Almost 50 years after the night at the Socratic Club, naturalism and supernaturalism again held the floor, stirring a lively exchange. For now, Flew remains unconvinced of the plausibility of special revelation as it is understood in Christianity.

If the dialogue with Antony Flew provides a snapshot of the contemporary dynamics of the debate, how should we portray the significance of the original Lewis-Anscombe encounter? Were The Chronicles of Narnia C.S. Lewis’ means of running away from reason and escaping into fantasy? Philosopher Victor Reppert doesn’t think so. He recently addressed the question in an essay published in The Chronicles of Narnia and Philosophy. Reppert establishes the point that far from creating a split between faith and reason, Lewis actually integrates them in his famous stories. Comparing one of his most quoted arguments in Mere Christianity with portions of The Chronicles of Narnia, Reppert finds that Lewis utilized the medium of children’s fiction to communicate the same truths found in his philosophical writings. To illustrate this fusion of reason and imagination, Reppert listens in as the Old Professor evaluates Lucy’s story of having visited another world through the wardrobe.

“Logic!” said the professor half to himself. “Why don’t they teach logic in these schools? There are only three possibilities. Either your sister is telling lies, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth. You know she doesn’t tell lies and it is obvious that she is not mad. For the moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that she is telling the truth (LWW, Chapter 5, p.131 and The Chronicles of Narnia and Philosophy, 266).

In this passage, Reppert discovers that Lewis is using essentially the same argument in two venues. In Mere Christianity, Lewis argued that three possibilities emerge from Jesus’ claim to be divine: either he was a lunatic, a liar, or he was telling the truth. And, as described above, the scene in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe employs the same reasoning about Lucy’s unbelievable journey into Narnia.

What, then, may we conclude from this? The claim that Lewis simply backed into his wardrobe just doesn’t hold. Reppert even suggests that “the Narnia books can themselves be seen as works of broadly Christian apologetics.” This implies that Lewis intentionally infused his fiction with rational portrayals of transcendent truth. Far from splitting reason and faith, as his critics suppose, Lewis brilliantly synthesized the two.

It is only when we understand his commitment to myth as an appropriate illumination of truth that we fully appreciate the scope of his harmonization.

Lewis understood myth as, “at its best, a real though unfocused gleam of divine truth falling on human imagination.” This description protects the concept of myth from misunderstanding. Lewis makes clear that myth is not a falsehood, nor is it underdeveloped “misunderstood history” formed by a backward group of people to convey their identity and beliefs. Instead, Lewis finds that myth—storytelling that uses the imagination—can sometimes communicate Truth more wholly than other avenues. Myth puts hands, feet, and sometimes even paws on abstract principles, making them easier to see, mimic, and listen to. It binds together right thinking with right action by whispering stories of heroes and traitors. And anytime truth is present, reason is present; so it is possible for made up stories to reflect that “unfocused gleam of divine truth” in ways that exercise rational discernment.

At the end of the day, Lewis’ motives for writing The Chronicles of Narnia are most clearly found when Lewis is primarily understood as literary scholar. The debate with Anscombe merely served to better hone his arguments in his book Miracles. For Lewis, there is creativity in the call to serve truth. Known for enjoying walks around Oxford, Lewis established well-worn paths through many different terrains, whether group debate or popular writing, philosophical treatises or literary criticism, children’s books or epic poems. By also becoming familiar with a variety of terrains, we are best equipped to guide others to Narnia. Truth may be clothed in myth, as Lewis famously dressed it, or in scientific evidence, like that which persuaded Antony Flew. However its advent comes about, following the argument wherever it leads is similar to walking the Road to Emmaus: Truth will appear beside us, much as Aslan did to the children who journeyed through the wardrobe.

Elizabeth V. Glass was a student at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky at the time of this article being published.