“The heretics prefer to iron out the creases in their doctrines of God and Christ, leaving a smooth surface where everything is laid bare. But the orthodox tradition leaves the bedsheets in a crumpled pile, with hidden and mysterious crevices. Ironing the divine linen is an impossible task, for God is like a fitted sheet—accomodating yet unwieldy. Talk about God will always have hidden depths and untidy corners.”
Why, you ask? Well, as Tim Perry might say, we, as Protestants, are all schismatics. But that’ s not really what I’m getting at.
What I am getting at is this: heresy, it seems to me (correct me if I’m wrong), has to do with departing from the church’s official teaching . Prior to the Reformation it was quite easy to say, “This is heretical belief” because there was one church (I’m speaking purely of the West). Now that X number of denominations have been established and we’ve got splits of splits of splits, it’s not clear to me how we can speak of “official church teaching” in any way apart from the ecumenical creeds.
As a result, for a Reformed type to call an Arminian, for instance, a “heretic”; or a Baptist to call a Pentecostal a “heretic”, apart from Creedal doctrines, is really quite moot. Apart from the Creeds, the denominations are nuanced in a way that puts them in different theological camps. Prior to the Reformation, and post-Great Schism, the same might be said of Roman Catholics and Eastern Orthodox.
Don’t get me wrong–I believe in “the one, holy, catholic church”–but we are no longer in a position where one particular theological position can claim to be the voice of the Church Universal. There is no one theological scheme that can be turned to as the litmus test for orthodoxy.
The term “heresy”, therefore, really only applies to those who claim to be among your particular Christian sect.
Which is why, in my opinion, the notion of Rob Bell’s reformed detractors dropping the word “heresy” in terms of what he (allegedly) believes is really quite silly, because from what I know, Bell isn’t claiming to be one of them.
Or, Heretics are People, too; or, Erring in Love.
Generally when you hear the word “heresy” or “heretic”, what do you think of? In the past I would have thought of a heretic at root as someone bent on destroying the faith from the inside with unorthodox theology or doctrine. The technical definition–belief at odds with established belief of a religious system–is less demonizing; “unorthodox belief” is a gentler way of referring to heresy. Saying “That’s a bit unorthodox, isn’t it?” has a much more amenable ring to it than does “That’s heresy!”, even though they mean the same thing.
I was reading an essay by Rowan Williams (Archbishop of the Church of England) in which he discusses the Arian heresy, which was a 4th century controversy relating to the relationship between the Father and the Son. “Arianism” was a particular theological/doctrinal viewpoint in that debate which posited that Jesus was the highest in the created order, but that he was nonetheless created–and subordinate and distanced from the Father. What was at stake was the both the divinity of Christ (which was already believed, but not codified) and the nature of salvation. The Nicene (-Constantinopolitan) Creed, which all branches of the Christian church accept, was in large part a response to Arian thought.
But I digress…
I was struck by the following phrase in Williams’ essay: “It is obvious that Arius’ main concern is to secure the uniqueness of the Father and the dependence of the Logos on the Father’s decision” and that Arius argues that the co-eternality of the Father and Son comes “unacceptably close to the ‘two first principles’ error he is keen to rule out.” (Rowan Williams, “Athanasius and the Arian Crisis” in The First Christian Theologians)
And it suddenly hit me: someone holding heretical views is not necessarily bent on destroying the church or in cahoots with devil-worshipers (to put a more popular culture spin on it). The heretic may well be speaking out of sincere love for God and concern for how he is spoken of and worshipped; a heretic may well be speaking out of sincere love for truth, the church, the body of Christ. A heretic may well be a person of devout faith.
Arius, at least judging by Rowan Williams’ account, was not interested in destroying the church, but seems to have been speaking out of devotion to God.
Of course, sincerity doesn’t make a heretical belief any less heretical (just as orthodoxy isn’t measured by sincerity) and sincerity can be misguided. But the language of some in the church today and the unfortunate actions of some in the church in the past would suggest that the heretic belongs in the category of serial rapists and murderers (or worse). I believe, of course, that heresy can be dangerous and needs correction*, but…heretics are people, too, and may well be erring in love, if that makes any sense.
EDITED TO ADD: This also, incidentally, includes those with beliefs different than ours, particularly between members of the church. Those of us brought up in a more conservative environment would do well to consider that many of those who are wrestling with and rethinking the issues of, say, abortion or gay marriage/ordination, are doing so out of love for and allegiance to Jesus Christ and his way. Conversely, some of those among the fundamentalist ranks who refuse to even consider reexamining some of these things are doing so out of fear or self-preservation, rather than loyalty to Christ and his way.
*In the Protestant wing of the church correction of heresy is, I imagine, difficult, because implicit in the Protestant tradition is the notion that if you don’t like my ideas (or I don’t like yours), I’ll just go and start my own church. And I suspect that there is quite a bit of heresy, in the technical sense of the term, within Protestant Christiainity.