In the comments of a recent post, I was startled by Joyless Moralist's reading of the Gospel and Acts:
It does seem worth noting that Christ never sat down and wrote/dictated a book, while on the other hand he *did* give serious attention to the organization of a church... One has the impression [why?] that more organization may have been done in the 40 days between the Resurrection and the Ascension, but admittedly no real detail is given about what went on during that time. What is certainly true, though, is that a kind of organization began to form fairly rapidly in the years following Christ's ascension... Immediately after the Ascension the Apostles already understood themselves to be a governing body invested with authority by Christ... There is nothing ad hoc about the way Matthias is chosen, nor about the way Peter (Peter!) initiates the action... Why didn't Jesus pick Judas' successor himself? Because that was the Apostles' right and responsibility. Jesus chose the original twelve, and after that left it to those he had chosen to perpetuate the organization. They are no longer fledglings under Jesus' wing; it's *their* job now to build up the Church, and they immediately begin doing so, purposefully and with a clear sense of mission... [In response to me: "You wouldn't get the idea from Acts that he's superior in authority to Paul, or indeed to any of the apostles."] Actually, I think that's exactly the idea one would get from an impartial reading of the Gospels and Acts. That aspect of Catholicism always made perfect sense to me, long before I seriously considered being a Catholic. In the Acts, Peter takes charge at once, and others defer to his authority. It's true that Paul stands up to him once, but this is the exception that proves the rule; Paul is clearly taking a bold step here, and his attitude is exactly what one would expect of an underling taking a stand against the man in charge... Think of the Church as being a bit like a branch of a larger company with a CEO that occasionally steps in and gives a direct order or takes charge of a project himself. Most of the time they're expected to work things out for themselves, though always in keeping with the company's general goals and with certain resources that they can turn to when they need extra help. Once in awhile the CEO might step in personally and change the course of operations in a larger way. Now, in a sense it might undermine the authority of the branch manager when the CEO steps in, because it shows that he isn't the top of the hierarchy, but it doesn't necessarily undermine him in a substantial way, because it was always a clear part of his identity that he was subject to a higher authority. Meanwhile, it's perfectly possible that the CEO (especially in the early days when he's getting a new manager started) might cede certain tasks or decisions to him: it's *your* job now, so you decide!
Joyless Moralist seems to look on the history of the early church as a business school case study. Again and again, the words "organization" and "authority" appear. The question I find myself asking is: Where did JM get this paradigm that she's imposing on the Gospel and Acts. At one point in the Gospels the disciples have a quarrel over pre-eminence:
Then a dispute arose among them as to which of them would be the greatest. And Jesus, perceiving the thought of their heart, took a little child and set him by Him. And said to them, "Whoever receives this little child in My name receives Me; and whoever receives Me receives Him who sent Me. For he who is least among you all will be great." (Luke: 9:46-48)
Or in Matthew:
At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, "Who then is greatest in the kingdom of Heaven?" Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, and said, "Assuredly I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will be no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18: 1-3)
Or another episode, in Mark:
They said to Him, "Grant us that we may sit, one on Your right hand and the other on Your left, in Your glory." But Jesus said to them, "You do not know what you are asking"... And when the ten heard it, they began to be greatly displeased with James and John. But Jesus called them to Himself and said to them, "You know that those who are considered rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. Yet it shall not be so among you; but whoever desires to become great among you shall be your servant. And whoever desires to be first shall be slave of all."
In short, Jesus refuses to put one apostle above the others, to define ranks or hierarchies among them. Their requests for such information are misguided and show that they don't understand what He's about. Joyless Moralist seems to have a rather less evasive answer to the apostles' question: Peter was the greatest of the disciples, the branch manager, the man in charge, to whom the others were underlings. Now, there is one verse in Scripture of which I would say a superficial reading does tilt slightly to this interpretation.
When Jesus came into the region of Caesarea Philippi, He asked His disciples, saying, "Who do men say that I, the son of Man, am?" So they said, "Some say John the Baptist, some Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets." He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" Simon Peter answered and said, "You are the Christ, the son of the living God." Jesus answered and said to him, "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven. And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock [petrus is related to the Latin word for rock, so some say there is a pun here] I will build my church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it. And I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." Then he commanded His disciples that they should tell no one that He was Jesus the Christ. From that time on Jesus began to show to His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised the third day. Then Peter took Him aside and began to rebuke Him, saying, "Far be it from You, Lord; this shall not happen to You!" But He turned and said to Peter, "Get behind Me, Satan! You are an offense to Me, for you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men." (Matthew 16:13-23)
I've extended this quote a bit longer than the Catholics typically do, because I think the episodes are closely connected. Anyway, Father Michael Pomazansky, an Orthodox priest, in Orthodox Dogmatic Theology, writes of this passage by quoting a letter to the Fourth Ecumenical Council from St. Juvenal, Patriarch of Jerusalem: "On this confession the Church of God is made firm, and this Faith, given to us by the holy Apostles, the Church has kept and will keep to the end of the world." That is, the "rock" is Peter's confession, not Peter himself. This is certainly plausible, but the Roman Catholic interpretation-- that with these words Christ names Peter personally the rock on which the Church will be built-- does seem semantically tenable. Though the image that puts in one's mind is a strange one. For one does not, please note, build a church or other structure on a single rock. When I think of the Roman Catholic view, I can't help imagining an enormous cathedral balanced awkwardly on a single tiny rock. Actually, that image expresses what's wrong with the view of a monarchical church, too: it is too fragile, too imbalanced, depending as it does on a single individual. If we focus again on the words of the passage, it appears that Jesus's naming of Peter as "the rock" is a response, almost an impulsive response, to Peter's declaration that "You are the Christ." If one of the other apostles had spoken first, one feels that Jesus might have said the same thing to him; or that if another apostle expresses the same declaration then or later, Jesus would have declared him, too, to be a "rock." Of course, they did confess that in due course. And that makes the architectural metaphor much more satisfactory, for a church finely balanced on one foundation stones might, it would seem, tumble at the slightest breeze, but there's no reason a church built on twelve foundation stones could not withstand a hurricane. Still, at least to my ears (biased perhaps because I've lived in the West and spent a lot of time with Catholics) this passage does have a slightly Roman Catholic ring to it.
But nothing else in the Gospel or Acts does. Before addressing the appointment of Matthias, it's worth looking at some of the many images of the Church that the Gospels present. From John:
"I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit. You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch and is withered; and they gather them and throw them into the fire, and they are burned." (John 15:1-6)
I find it amazing how apt this passage is if read as a theory of history. Every human civilization has grown old and withered except the Christian one. Christianity is forever young; it gives rise to sciences and literatures and ideologies and states and nations and ethics and institutions, and these all ossify, weaken, wither, and die when they cut themselves off from Christianity: this is the lesson of the past 2,000 years, indeed of all history, since before Christianity mankind was bound to the wheel of growth and decay and "there was nothing new under the sun." But I digress. What does the vine-and-branches metaphor imply for Church organization? First, it is consistent with hierarchy, for branches may branch off of branches and not only from the trunk of the vine. But it does not at all suggest monarchical organization, since many branches, not just one, will communicate directly with the vine.
Also in the Gospel of John, Jesus uses the metaphor of a shepherd and a flock:
I am the good shepherd; and I know My sheep, and am known by My own. As the Father knows Me, even so I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep. And other sheep I have which are not of this fold; them also I must bring, and they will hear My voice; and there will be one flock and one shepherd. (John 10:14-16)
(The "other sheep" are generally taken to be the Gentiles, I think.) Since sheep are famous for following each other, this metaphor is again consistent with the idea that some follow Jesus more closely, while others, not as close to Jesus themselves, follow other Christians; and in that sense, it is consistent with a certain degree of hierarchy. But it does not suggest any fixed hierarchy, and certainly not a single highest hierarchy. Indeed, the idea of some "chief sheep" leading the other sheep is absurd.
In the middle of the Gospel of Matthew there is a wealth of images by which Jesus describes "the kingdom of heaven." For purposes of argument take "the kingdom of heaven" to refer to the Church, although I don't think that identification is, theologically, the whole story. First (Matthew 13:24-30), he compares the kingdom of heaven to "a man who sowed good seed in his field," but his enemy came and planted weeds. No idea of hierarchy here: stalks of wheat grows side by side together. Next Jesus says:
"The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which indeed is the least of all the seeds; but when it is grown it is greater than the herbs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and nest in its branches." (Matthew 13:31-32)
This image seems to contain a prophecy, for it was indeed to transpire thereafter that the tiny beginnings in Judea were to swell into a great movement which converted whole kingdoms, first the Roman empire, as well as Georgia and Armenia, then Ireland and the European "barbarians" beyond the old Roman frontier, then the Slavs, and more recently Latin America, sub-Saharan Africa, much of South Korea, now tens of millions of Chinese, etc.: the tiny seed became a great tree. Again, there is an idea of growth, and of fruitfulness, and I think of holiness (to me, the "birds of the air" seem imaginatively to evoke angels), and even perhaps of a limited degree of hierarchy since some branches are stronger than others and some branch off of others. But not of hierarchy, unless the pope is the trunk of the tree. Then Jesus says:
"The kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till it was all leavened." (Matthew 13: 33)
This is a beautiful and wise metaphor for the way the Church spreads. Again, there is nothing top-down here, no organization: instead, growth comes from the autonomous and decentralized actions of many tiny organisms. So with Christianity: it spreads by this kind action and that good friend, by a song or a story; it is not planned from above by an "organization." Two more parables highlight the initiative of the seekers for truth who come to the Church:
Again, the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and hid; and for joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls. Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it. (Matthew 13:44-46)
It is interesting how often Jesus uses commercial metaphors. These parables communicate the ideas of there being something of great value and of making great sacrifices for its sake. That individual initiative is so prominent here contrasts, perhaps, with the Good Shepherd metaphor in John. Of course there is again no suggestion of hierarchy, or of organization.
Aside from the "rock"/"keys" passage, there is one other explicit mention of "the church" in Matthew (and no others in the Gospels):
Moreover if your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he hears you, you have gained your brother. But if he will not hear, take with you one or two more, that 'by the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established.' And if he refuses to hear them, tell it to the church. But if he refuses even to hear the church, let him be to you like a heathen and a tax collector. (Matthew 18:15-17)
This passage suggests that "the church" has authority, but it gives no indication of the structure of the church. Certainly no church leaders are mentioned: Jesus does not say to tell it to a priest or a bishop or an ecclesiastical court. On the contrary, the progression from "you and him alone" to "one or two more" to "the church" suggests that the church is a large body of people, who somehow-- and this is the important point!-- are presumed to be able to form a collective judgment.
Joyless Moralist says that Christ didn't dictate a book, but he did found an organization. While it's true that He didn't dictate a book, He did teach, and the Gospels are (generally taken by Christians to be) first- or second-hand accounts of His teaching. But it's not exactly true that he founded an organization either. In particular, He does not establish authority structures, resisting pressure by the apostles to do so. What He founds is a church, an assembly, a community of love. The Church is something new. He warns the apostles not to model it on the secular authority structures of the Gentiles. He describes this new thing with many rich and beautiful images. Most of them-- the field, the flock of sheep-- are strikingly egalitarian, seeming to put the believers on an equal footing and directly in touch with God. One can derive from some of the parables-- the flock perhaps; certainly the vine-- enough suggestions of leadership and hierarchy to be consistent with the commonsense needs for at least some structure and leadership if any organization which is in this world even if not of it is to manage its affairs, remain coherent, make necessary decisions; but scarcely even that and certainly not more. If Christ did not found an organization, neither do the apostles seem to have done that, exactly. They taught the Gospel, made occasional decisions in an ad hoc way; their own authority, if that's what it was, as apostles, they communicated to no one, and that office died with them; they created a few offices and set precedents that became the basis of others. The tremendous amount of traveling that Paul at least, and according to tradition all the apostles, did, was the ideal way to fulfill the command to "go and make disciples of all nations" but seems hardly compatible with running an organization. Christians needed organizational structures, as they needed bread and clothing and roofs, for mundane practical reasons; but to think that that organization is the Church is a profound error. As Father Michael Pomazansky writes: "The life of the Church in its essence is mystical; the course of its life cannot be entirely included in any 'history.' The Church is completely distinct from any kind whatever of organized society on earth."
Finally, one of the things that saddens me about JM's view of "Petrine authority" is that it seems to make it impossible to appreciate Peter for who he was. Consider again the appointment of Matthias in the Book of Acts. Luke writes that "Peter stood up in the midst of the disciples"-- a striking phrase. Peter says that some passages from the Psalms were prophecies about Judas. Were they? Does it matter? Anyway, based on these Scriptures he concludes that another should take Judas's place among the Twelve. Two candidates, Matthias and Barsabbas, are chosen, and they draw lots to decide whom to appoint, seemingly a way of ascertaining the Divine will; but if one is inclined to believe that the lot fell to Matthias by mere chance, there is not a word in the Book of Acts to gainsay it. There is no other mention of Matthias in the New Testament. However, soon afterwards another apostle, the extraordinarily eloquent and energetic Paul, is appointed by a miraculous vision and conversion on the road to Damascus. So, if Peter's goal was to ensure that the number of apostles was twelve, the appointment of Matthias actually achieved the opposite of this, raising the number to thirteen. Mightn't it have made more sense to wait and let Paul take the place of Judas? This is not to say anything against Matthias of course. Rather, I want to draw attention to what it shows about Peter's character. Peter is forever impetuous. He is present at the Transfiguration, and babbles: "Master, it is good for us to be here; and let us make three tabernacles: one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah" (Luke 9:33). Luke adds explicitly, and amusingly, that "he did not know what he was talking about." He is the only one of the disciples to walk on water at Jesus's invitation; but he quickly loses faith and begins sinking. He is the first to declare "You are the Christ!" but a moment later he plays the part of "Satan" by tempting Jesus not to face crucifixion, to "let this cup pass," to quote Jesus's own prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane when (and I hardly dare to write this even though it is written in the Gospels) Jesus seems Himself to have felt a powerful temptation. (In thise sense, Peter was even a greater tempter than the dread spirit in the wilderness, for none of the dread spirit's temptations seems to have gone as close to Jesus's heart as Peter's words did.) On the eve of the Crucifixion, Peter boasts that "I will lay down my life for Your sake," (John 13:37) then denies Him three times before the cock crows. Just before that, when Jesus washes the disciples' feet, Peter first cries "You shall never wash my feet!" then, when Jesus says that "if I do not wash you, you have no part with Me," he goes to the other extreme and declares "Lord, not my feet only, but almost my hands and my head!" and earns another gentle reproof for his enthusiasm. When Jesus is arrested, Peter takes a sword and cuts off the high priest's ear: Jesus heals it and tells him to sheathe his sword, saying "all who take the sword will perish by the sword" (Matthew 26:52). After the Resurrection, Peter runs to the empty tomb. Was that necessary? Later in Galilee, when John recognizes Jesus on the shore:
Simon Peter put on his outer garment (for he had removed it), and plunged into the sea. But the other disciples came in the little boat... dragging the net with fish. (John 21:7-8)
Did Peter need to leap into the sea and swim to Jesus? Mightn't it have been just as well to help his fellows bring in the haul of fish? And yet it is these details that bring Peter to life. He is nothing like a branch manager or an executive. That is not the sort of role for which he is suited. His best actions, you could not deduce from a moral code; they are not generically good but expressive of a peculiar goodness that is distinctively Peter's and the more precious for that. He might never have existed; and yet now that he has lived and been the man he was, he seems necessary, one feels that the whole universe would lose something if he were not. "Eternity is in love with the creations of time," as William Blake wrote. In his impetuosity and volubility Peter often makes missteps, yet his love for, his joy in the Lord, always shines through, and is contagious. I love Peter. Praise God for Peter! What joy it would be (will be, I hope) to meet him! But when you consider Peter's whole character, as displayed over and over again in the Gospels and Acts, it is not at all difficult to see the episode with Matthias as another instance of Peter's, as it were, jumping to conclusions, leaping into a course of action which, though in this case not harmful, is not particularly... optimal. It may be another case where Peter's missteps turn out well. One feels, particularly in the phrase "Peter stood up among the believers," that Peter set the church in motion, that the event made an impression and was remembered, even if it received no confirmation by revelation or miracle and nothing in particular came of it, and even if the real awakening of the church came not then, at Peter's initiative, but just afterwards, at divine initiative, with the coming of the Holy Spirit, though of course Peter plays a leading role in that episode too, giving a great speech and converting thousands. Later, when Peter converts Cornelius, a Roman, Acts says:
And when Peter came up to Jerusalem, those of the circumcision contended with him, saying "You went in to uncircumcised men and ate with them!" But Peter explained [and recounts vision in which God told him to do so]... (Acts 11:2-3ff)
Note here that "those of the circumcision" don't seem shy about confronting Peter. The passage does not suggest that Peter had "authority" over them. Peter does lead, but, as in the appointment of Matthias, by persuasion, namely by appeals to Scripture in the first case and to personal revelation in this case, not by claiming ecclesiastical authority. Christ is the vine, and Peter is one of the branches.
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