What Is Christendom?

W. Carl Ketcherside

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     We should have a great many fewer disputes in the world if words were taken for what they are, the signs of our ideas only, and not for things themselves." Ever since I first read this statement by John Locke in "An Essay Concerning Human Understanding," written in 1690, it has affected my consciousness of the relationship of words to the ideas which they were invented to express or convey. I am not sure that I am even yet fully aware of how many disputes have arisen through confusion of our symbols with reality, for their name is surely Legion. But I do know that I have become a student of words as well as of thought, and that is good.

     And this reminds me of a rather philosophic observation by Tryon Edwards, who said, "Words are both better and worse than thoughts; they express them and add to them; they give them power for good or evil; they start them on an endless flight, for instruction and comfort and blessing, or for injury and sorrow and ruin." Lord Bacon wrote, "Men suppose their reason has command over their words; still it happens that words in turn exercise authority on reason."

     I have been pondering over a certain word in recent months. In those moments of deep reflection when I am driving along the highway by myself it keeps slipping back into my mental slot clamoring for attention. When I awaken at night and begin to meditate it sneaks out of the dark and demands my notice. It is evident that I will not be satisfied until I write about it, and I may not be too happy after I do so. Some of my readers, as usual, will protest that they cannot understand what I am saying, some will not be able to grasp the reason for the compulsion or motivation that drives me to write, and a good many more will simply shrug it off, or say, "Well, so what?"

     Brainstorms are like other storms. Some are frightened by them and take cover, others admire the thunder and lightning which accompany them, and still others sleep through them, wholly unaware that anything has happened until another draws it to their attention. Thoughts are children of the mind. They are conceived first and then delivered. Like fleshly offspring those of others never impress us like our own, unless they are sufficiently like them that we cannot disparage one without reflecting against the other. Then we give them grudging commendation while emphasizing minor points of difference in our favor.

     With this rambling introduction out of the way, I can now tell you that the word to which I want to attend is Christendom. I think there has never been a word invented to describe a more nebulous or confusing state of affairs, if we grant that it is a state. I am not certain that anyone knows what it embraces, although I am quite sure that those who

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toss it off their tongues most glibly, do not. Obviously it is not a creation of God, although it seeks to hide under the cloak of divine grace and tries to pass itself off as being in her favor. But eternal life, the great gift, was proffered when God became man, while the existence of Christendom resulted from man seeking to become God.

     As is always the case when a prince and a pauper exchange places, and one gets in the room of the other, the prince suffers most, while the pauper demonstrates his unworthiness for palace life. And in this instance the prince who has been crowded out is the true offspring of the king, while the parentage or origin of the usurper is not easily determinable. Unfortunately, those who never knew the prince pay homage to the pauper and perpetuate his reign under the mistaken notion and delusion that they thereby perpetuate the purpose of the kingdom.

     There is a distinction between the faith once delivered and what is called Christendom. The first was the creation of God's revelation. The second is the result of evolution in human thought and action. Christendom was fashioned by the wisdom of this passing age, by the philosophy of men. This is not at all to say that it was deliberately planned or plotted. Rather, it is the natural result accruing from the strivings of men who often sought positions of prominence or prestige, and just as often regarded themselves as defenders of the truth of heaven.

     Christendom is the counterfeit medium of exchange in the spiritual marketplace, which came to be current when men ceased to demand the gold tried in the fire. It is a forgery imposed upon the gullible when their eyes were blinded and they could not see afar off. In the dim and distant past it first received its impetus when men ceased to try and imitate the life of Jesus on earth and began to speculate about the nature of deity in heaven.

     Fortunately, however, the pagan empire still existed, and in its jealousy for gods which were no longer worshipped, it lashed out in insensate fury at all who revered but one God. The followers of Jesus were thus branded as atheists, a term as opprobrious to polytheists as it is objectionable to monotheists. It is possible that if the emperors had not been exalted to the status of gods, persecution might not have arisen at all. But, since they w&e elevated to a place in the pantheon, to affirm that there was but one Lord, was to deny that Caesar was a lord. And to question this was probably a graver offense than to suggest that the summit of Olympus was uninhabited.

     In any event, persecution came and spread over the empire, which was the world of that age. Polycarp died in Asia. Justin Martyr died in Rome. Irenaeus died in Gaul. And, without knowing it, paganism saved that which it was determined to destroy. Persecution did what it always does. It separated the grain from the chaff and made faith real. In time of dire distress, philosophic speculations hold no comfort and men find refuge in the Rock of Ages, and glory in the cross. As Justin pointed out, the blood of the martyrs became the seed of the kingdom, and Tertullian in his Book of Apology Against the Heathen, could say that Christians were everywhere. "Men say that the

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State is beset by them, that Christians are in their fields, their fortresses, their islands. They murmur that each sex, each age, every consideration and every rank is going over to the sect."

     No doubt it would come as a surprise to Domitian, Trajan, or Marcus Aurelius to learn that they were instruments used to purify and thus to perpetuate the faith which they despised, but a great many surprises always await those who fancy that they are gods. It would be a thrill to report that the fervor which was warmed and watered by the blood of the martyrs continued unabated, and that the followers of the Lamb found the way to keep their lives unsullied and their ranks unbroken. But it did not work out that way!

     Motivated by a desire to meet philosophy upon its own ground, and frightened by what might happen if they could not, the believers decided to found a seminary in which young and brilliant minds could be grounded in the faith. I think it was inevitable that, with such a motive, Alexandria would be selected as the site of the first "Christian college" in the world. The city itself had long been called "the great university," since it was the center for learning for the earth, and possessed all of those traits and characteristics which distinguish a university from a mere college or school. It was a center of urbanity and of intellectual processing.

     It was here that Philo, born about the time that Jesus entered the world, had sought to prove that philosophy was a vehicle in which the Greeks rode toward heaven as revelation was a vehicle in which the Spirit came down from heaven, and that where they met on the way, they stood on the same level and were together. His chosen approach was to reconcile Plato and Zeno with Moses and Solomon, thus equating the wisest and the most practical advocates from both the realm of Judaism and paganism. Too, it was this city where the most notable forms of Gnosticism had their origin, and it was deemed appropriate to assault the bastions of culture from close at hand.

     It was about 180 A.D. when the Catechetical School was started by Pantaenus, a former Stoic philosopher who had been converted to the Way by a scholar of the apostles. The chief accomplishment of Pantaenus was to produce a famous student, Clement, called Alexandrinus, to distinguish him from the other Clement, who was called Romanus. Clement was born of Christian parents, but grew up in an atmosphere of philosophy which bred within him an undying urge to research for truth. When he became a believer he traveled far and wide to sit at the feet of any older disciple who could teach him the Way more perfectly. The result was that he succeeded Pantaenus to the presidency of the school, and, in turn, greatly influenced Origen, who came to be known as "the father of the sermon."

     His love of rhetoric, coupled with his development of discourse upon isolated texts, laid the groundwork for mystical interpretation, and the school which was begun to preserve the faith became the grave of primitive Christianity," to quote the phrase of John Lawrence Mosheim, the eminent church historian and Chancellor of the University of Gottingen. Origen developed the allegorical method of Biblical criticism, insisting that behind the literal meaning of the scriptures, was hidden a moral or mystical meaning. In doing so he laid the groundwork for speculation which could only survive on the basis of dogmatism and the authoritarian structure. Christendom was now really on its way!

     Less than fifty years after the death of Origen, Africa became the birthplace of two men destined to be opponents--Arius and Athanasius, The theological dispute for which they became famous, or infamous, caused the infidel Gibbon to say, "The divisions of Christianity suspended the ruin of paganism." The groundwork of the controversy about the nature of God had already been laid. Tertullian invented and gave the world the word "Trinity," but there were many who disagreed with its implications. And the Alexandrian school with its speculative "theology," furnished fuel for the flames of heated debate.

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     I have not time, nor do I have the inclination to enter into the intricacies of the arguments upon either side, being concerned more with the effect and result. The question revolved around the nature of Deity and the relationship sustained by Jesus to the Father. The Greek terms expressive of the varied views were spelled exactly alike except for one letter of the alphabet. Interwoven into the dispute were subtleties of rationalization borrowed, or stolen, from Aristotle, the Stoics and the Gnostics.

     Whether the Son of God was of one and the same substance as the Father, or whether he was of like substance, was the question. On one hand it was contended that the Son of God was "co-eternal, co-essential, and co-equal with the Father." On the other, this was called inconsistent and impossible, since the Father who begat must be before the Son who was begotten, and the latter, therefore, could not he absolutely eternal. As time went on each side used a thousand contrived arguments. Factions sprang up everywhere, rallying around phrases, and novel interpretations. The accusations of heresy and apostasy, words jerked rudely from the context furnished by the Spirit, became the clubs by which zealots sought to batter others into subjection or drive them bodily out into the cold.

     At this juncture, I want to submit one of the most perceptive and poignant statements that I have ever read by a historian. It is found in History of the Christian Religion in the West of Europe (pages 65, 66), by Earl Russel, and reads as follows:

     "It will readily be perceived how tempting was the prospect of leaving the beaten roads of the early Christians to wander through the pathless forests of controversy, and ascend the heights of a new heaven. The early Christian, seeking to imitate the benevolent Samaritan who ministered to the wounded traveller, or to follow the example of the merciful Lord, who forgave his debtor, or like the loving father, to receive with joy a penitent son, followed plain precepts and practised unobtrusive virtues. But the doctor of theology, who displayed acuteness in pointing out inferences which Christ had never revealed to His disciples, came victor out of conflicts with his learned rivals. He defined what Jesus had left obscure, and explained relations to the Godhead which Christ had left to the conclusions of private judgment. Thus Athanasius, followed by crowds of admiring pupils, radiant with flashes of rhetoric, and exulting over the opponents whom he had crushed, stood at last on the narrow summit of orthodoxy...and waved his triumphant banner over Europe, Asia and Africa. It is to be lamented, however, that in this difficult struggle, the spirit of Christianity was lost-- that man was taught to hate his neighbor and to exalt himself."

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     It was Eusebius who convinced Constantine, the emperor, that he should use his power to summon a council of bishops and hammer out a formal guideline for the institutional church in order to preserve a pure doctrine upon the earth. The fact that there had never been such a convocation before June 14, 325, is indicative of the freedom of opinion and the tolerance which had always existed prior to this time. Now an emperor, not yet converted to Christ, used temporal power to bring together those spiritual leaders who would set the stage for bitter persecution and make honest dissent a horrible crime. From now on such dissent would be heresy, and communication would be contingent upon conformity. Prior to this the saints had been persecuted by the pagans who sought to blot out the name of Christ. Now they would be persecuted by their fellows in the name of Christ.

     To say the least, the council was an interesting assemblage. More than 320 recognized bishops were present, but this number was augmented by a great number of lesser dignitaries who came for study, or out of curiosity, or to see the emperor near at hand. To add to the excitement a goodly sprinkling of pagan philosophers showed up, hoping to openly challenge the Christian teachers to public debate, or to sow dissension among them by well-placed questions.

     Many of the delegates bore marks of persecution by the heathen. One from Asia Minor was without hands, both of them having been burned off with an iron bar of white heat. Pophnutius, of Upper Egypt, had a patch over the empty socket where his right eye had recently been gouged out. Many were without a right arm, having suffered amputation by the sword of the enemy. Theodoret called it "an assembly of martyrs."

     The preliminary discussions were long and loud. The historian, Socrates, was present and preserves for us the account of an interesting incident. Upon one occasion when the voices were raised in an angry clamor over some point of doctrine, a simple "layman" stepped out in front of the assembly. His body bore the marks of recent persecution. He raised his hand and all eyes were turned upon him. He merely said, "Brethren, Christ left us not a system of logic, but a naked truth, to be guarded by faith and good works." He then quietly returned to his place.

     Arius was given a chance to elucidate and defend his doctrine, and Athanasius arose to reply to it with oratorical ability which entranced the crowd. Then, on a given day, Constantine moved the scene of debate to the Great Hall in the royal palace where he could preside over it. His attitude was calm and conciliatory. He constantly urged the need for agreement. That agreement never came, but the majority, the so-called forces of orthodoxy, determined upon a statement of faith which would eventually shatter the religious world to fragments. The creed read as follows:

     "We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, maker of all things visible and invisible. And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, begotten of the Father, the only begotten, that is, of the substance of the Father, God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, not made of one substance with the Father, by whom all things, both in heaven and earth were made. Who for us men and for our salvation, came down, and was incarnate, and was made man, suffered, and the third day rose again, and ascended into heaven, and shall come again to judge the quick and the dead. And in the Holy Ghost. And those who say, There was a time when He was not, and that He did not exist before He was made, and that He was made out of nothing, or out of another substance or essence, or that the Son of God is created or mutable, or alterable, the Catholic and Apostolic Church anathematizes."

     I have always been impressed with one statement made in Early Church History to the Death of Constantine by Edward Backhouse and Charles Tylor. "It may be urged that although the council was not conducted with the decorum which was to he desired, yet in stemming the torrent of Arianism, in establishing the

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orthodox faith, and setting up a clear, enduring symbol of belief around which all might rally, it performed a work worthy of its character and fame, and of the gratitude of posterity. Let the council receive its full meed of praise. What might have happened if the Nicene Creed had not been adopted no one can say. But let us not ignore the incalculable mischief of enforced conformity, nor overlook the fact that the conclusion arrived at by the council was very far from settling the question at issue."

     Another evaluation, by the German historian Neander, in his monumental historical work, needs our consideration. "The manner in which the controversy was left could only contain the seeds for new disputes. Here was no cordial union, springing freely by a natural course of development out of inward conviction, but a forced and artificial conjunction of men, still widely separated by their different modes of thinking, in relation to a creed which had been imposed upon them, and which was variously expounded according to the doctrinal proclivities of the various parties."

     Christendom is not the creation of God. It is the machinery of the clergy, a special class of which God's word knows nothing, but which sprung out of human pride and then captured the holy city and placed its citizens under tribute for its maintenance. It is the new mediator between God and man, christening, consecrating, shriving, burying, and intoning prayers for a fee. Christendom is the kingdom presided over by popes, cardinals, primates, metropolitans, archbishops, bishops, prelates, deans, arch deacons, canons, rectors, vicars and curates. In the suburban areas it is sometimes under the direction of priests, pastors and parsons, and these frequently try to hide their relationship. It is the realm of ecclesiastical jargon, that language of the Scholastics, which has become a dialect or patois, unintelligible to the masses and serving only to confuse the uninitiated and confound the humble student. Most of us have been snared by it and pay homage to it by our own usage, a fact I stand ready to prove if anyone challenges my affirmation.

     Christendom is not the Way! The Way is the habitat of free men, of men free to think for themselves and, what may be just as important, free to allow others to think for themselves. The Way is the path of communion and not always of conformation. Christendom is the mother of doubt and skepticism, and her daughters are human institutions brought in to act as handmaidens and nurses who know only how to supply the bottle but have never learned how to carve and serve meat. It is the imposer of creeds and forms, binding the intellect as the ancient Chinese bound the feet of their females, and producing a society of cripples out of reverence for tradition. It is the way of the prescript, the mandate and the bull.

     It is for these reasons that I unhesitatingly affirm that what men call Christendom will never be united. No good purpose would be served if it were. We must go back beyond the written creeds of others and the unwritten creeds of our own, if we are ever to recapture the spirit of vital relationship with God which the Incarnation was intended to make possible and available unto us. This means a scrapping of all traditions except the apostolic tradition of Jesus Christ as having

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any validity for our walk in the Spirit. It means the discarding of papal bulls and decretals, the disregarding of synodical canons and articles, and the refusal to accept as authoritarian and prejudicial rulings and dogmatic definitions of elders and preachers.

     The apostles must again be elevated to that place from which they were dragged, both by those who denied their authority originally, and those who affirmed equal authority as their successors. The right of the individual to go humbly to the divine revelation for himself must be recovered. Each must be allowed to drink of the water of life out of his own cup, and not be forced to drink from an official cup bearing the insignia of the sect. There must be no supreme court except the individual conscience, and no compulsion except that of the eager heart yearning to be like Jesus.

     You may label this what you will. You may call it reformation, restoration, or recovery. You may give it the more modern designation of renewal. I am not at all concerned about the semantical twists over which men fight and strive. What I am saying is that a return to Jerusalem is not a return to a period of time or a place on the map. It is rather a return to the recognition that God has raised up that same Jesus whom we have crucified and made him both Lord and Christ. It is a return to that state of contrition and heart-pricking over our guilt that we cry out once more, "Men and brethren, what shall we do?" Let others debate in forums and synods about the finer points of self-imposed law. Let them argue their creeds and assess the values of their decrees. But, as for me, I shall not stop at 325 A.D., but I will go to that moment when the glad news of the resurrection was heralded to a sinful race, and I will lift up my voice to proclaim it anew. Then unity will come to those who believe in Him!