Blind Ecumenism

Writing a blog for an audience of roughly zero is a different thing. Maybe that's why I feel little or no impetus to write about theology, but whatever. I think my interest in the subject is waning, as closer study of the Scripture has led me to the conclusion that most ecumenical theological discourse is akin to trying to fix a broken-down '73 Mustang with a 3-pound sack of duck feathers. Everyone seems to come to the table with the understanding that discussion of the texts themselves isn't going to get anyone anywhere, since we all have our definite ideas of what they say, and thus we must respectfully disagree and continue on with other things. So instead, we ramble about our mutual respect for the "Fathers," whoever they might have been, our "common mission," whatever that means, our "solidarity in the Gospel," whatever that is, or whatever. It's all a giant political spectacle. Protestants fall all over themselves trying to show that we really do have the utmost respect for pointy hats, extravagant processions, ancient basilicas, and paintings of folks with halos and spooky eyes, while Catholics throw us the occasional bone to show they really do, like, care about Jesus and prayer and reading the Bible stuff, the Orthodox try to show that they don't really think that everyone is going to hell, the Anglicans continue to be the incoherent crowd-pleasers they've been for the last 100 years or so, and the Lutherans...what the heck do Lutherans do, anyway?

I don't really see the point, because no one's really backed off any claims except "everyone who isn't just like us will burn in hell." I mean, gee, that's fantastic and all, and I'm happy that the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is no longer in the business of handing us over to be tortured or burned alive, I'm glad the 30 Years' War is over, and I'm glad that guys like John Bunyan no longer go to prison. Gosh, it only took 15 centuries. Thanks, Augustine! Maybe in another 15 centuries, we'll start listening to Scripture instead of being just so incredibly impressed at what our own religious philosophers say and so unbelievably devoted to our own theological histories.

But that's highly unlikely. I seem to recall this movement starting about 500 centuries ago on the basic premise that perhaps, just perhaps, someone saying something in the past with fancy Aristotelean language does not necessarily mean he was correct, that just because you have a painting of someone on a golden background with a halo and spooky eyes does not necessarily imply that everything he said was correct, and that just because a fellow has a pointy hat and sits on an imposing throne in a magnificent basilica does not mean that everything he says is correct, either...and that there is some probability that if you take a good hard look at what the apostles wrote and what Jesus said, you might come to some correct ideas. That premise, of course, was beaten to a bloody pulp and discarded by most of Christendom in favor of the obvious clarity of murky encyclicals and opaque 5th-century philosophers. But the irony is that those who proposed this were followed by men who turned their founders' writings into exactly the sort of Tradition that they were so critical of to begin with. So now the arguments are no longer about what Scripture says and the proper way to interpret it (e.g. the proper place of reason, the material principle of Scripture, how we should appropriate exegesis of our forebears, etc), but about whose relics are holiest.