Closed Handed / Open Handed

One of the greatest challenges in theology and ministry is differentiating between closed-handed and open-handed beliefs.

Closed-handed beliefs are those beliefs that we must hold to with relentless conviction. To not do so would be to compromise the core of Christian faith. These essential beliefs make Christianity what it is, giving it consistency and coherency. These basic beliefs are generally agreed upon among Christian denominations, although there are, of course, exceptions. Basic beliefs about the Trinity, the Fallenness of Humankind, the Hypo Static Union, the Incarnation, Salvation through Christ Alone by Grace, The Death, Resurrection, Ascension and Future Return of Christ, are all examples of those core Christian beliefs. To take any of these away would be to alter historical Christianity to the point of making it deficient, if not unrecognizable. These are closed-handed issues, because they are basically not up for debate.

Open handed beliefs on the other hand are those beliefs which may be important, but about which Christians of various traditions and backgrounds can comfortably embrace disagreement. These beliefs can be debated without threatening the cogency and coherency of Christianity. Differing views on Baptism and the Eucharist for instance are examples of these (although Baptism and the Eucharist cannot be abandoned altogether to maintain orthodoxy). And even beyond these examples there are issues even more open-handed, such as style of worship music and forms of discipleship and local church programming. These are sometimes referred to by the Greek word adiaphora, or 'non-essentials'.

But unfortunately life is not as clean cut as simply drawing a line between what's most important and what's less important. For instance, how do we even decide what is closed-handed and open-handed? Even if Christendom on the whole agrees on the six or seven closed-handed issues listed above, aren't there a myriad of other issues that various traditions can find reason to argue over? Quite frankly, there are.

I've encountered an example of this struggle with differentiating closed-handed and open-handed issues just this week. I had a good friend who applied for a pastor position at a church in Austin. Right before the final handshake and acceptance of the formal offer, the hiring pastor decided to ask my friend what he 'thought about drinking' (alcohol that is). My friend gave a balanced, and biblical view of drinking: Alcohol is not innately evil, and Jesus drank wine. There is no Scriptural prohibition of alcohol except for the command to not get drunk on wine. Therefore there is liberty in this area. Of course, the pastor would not have asked this unless he had a bone to pick. As soon as my friend answered the question it was if a bomb had gone off in the pastor's office. The pastor began to present his own legalistic and tradition-driven view of alcohol. My friend obviously dodged a bullet with this one. 

So what gives us an anchor for establishing and maintaining consistency in differentiating closed-handed and open-handed issues? It's one thing to debate issues which are adiaphora, but it's another to debate on more central topics such as Who is God? I would suggest that the ancient Christian creeds offer the anchor we need, and the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed in particular (381). This creed forms the basis for articulating historic Christian faith. The great church historian and theologian J.N.D. Kelly has an wonderful quote on the way in which this creed creates unity in the universal and global Body of Christ:

Of all existing creed it is the only one of which ecumenicity, or universal acceptance, can be plausibly claimed. Unlike the purely Western Apostles' Creed, it was admitted as authoritative in East and West alike from 451 onwards, and it has retained that position, with one significant variation in its text, right down to the present day. So far from displacing it, the Reformation reaffirmed its binding character and gave it a new lease of life and an extended currency by translating it into the vernacular tongues. It is thus one of the few threads by which the tattered fragments of the divided robe of Christendom are held together. (Kelly, Early Christian Creeds, 296, Italics mine)

This quote obviously speaks to the known disunity in Christianity, but also to its unity, specifically in the creed of 381. The creeds offer a glimmer of hope for the 'divided robe of Christendom'.

In reflecting upon closed and open handed issue, St Augustine's famous quote is always applicable: "In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things, charity."

John Owen Pt. 1: Oblation and Intercession

I'm in a theology group/book club that reads and discusses one book a quarter. It's pretty unofficial and casual. We meet at Austin's classic restaurant Kerbey Ln and discuss what we've read until we stop making sense. We may drink a beer or take down some caffeine, but my personal goal is to eat at least a thousand chips with salsa. I love Kerbey's chips and salsa.

So the book we're reading currently is the most difficult thus far: The great Puritan theologian, John Owen's The Death of Death in the Death of Christ. It is the pinnacle work against the theology of universal redemption, or hypothetical universal redemption (i.e. all are saved, and/or Christ died for all, respectively). They say ('they' being random people I've talked to plus J.I. Packer in the book's introduction) that no one has adequately responded to Owen's argument since it was published in 1684. That's pretty impressive, because that was published 327 years ago.

I have to admit that it's taken awhile to get used to Owen's writing. It's bizarrely awkward. You would think that one could chalk it up to the time period in which is was written, however, even Packer admits that Owen is not a typical writer, even for his time. He seems to write in long-winded streams of consciousness that are hard to follow.

But despite the difficulty, it's obvious that Owen has something to say, and that there is a tenacious logic driving his argument. In the section I'm reading currently he is dealing with the concepts of oblation and intercession. Oblation meaning the suffering of Christ on our behalf. Intercession being the substitutionary atonement for our sins. Owen's arugment is that these two distinct facets of the cross are necessarily and inextricably bound to one another, so that they cannot be fully understood and appreciated apart from one another within the framework of salvation theology. This is because God purposed in Christ to save those for whom he died. For Owen, Christ died for the elect and his paying for their sins was an efficacious work which would be fulfilled unconditionally. In other words, Why would Christ pay for the sins of someone who would then be damned to hell in order to pay for the sins already paid for by Christ? Owen would say that that hypothetical situation would make the cross worthless. Strong words. But also a strong argument.

There is much more to this concept, and much more to come in the book (I'm only 70 pages in), but I have to admit that one thing I am wondering about is whether or not it will be difficult to determine when Owen is simply being logical and when he is being biblical. By no means are those things mutually exclusive, however, because something is logical doesn't require it to be biblical, and vice versa. Interestingly, Calvinists tend to be relentlessly logical, and Owen is no exception. In fact Cavlinist arguments are normally sophisticated, intricate, and logically consistent. Moreover, the traditions stemming from Calvinism no doubt deminstrate a cerebral bent. This makes reading Owen's work critically, intimidating. We'll have to see how the book continues, and if there is anyone out there to respond to Owen's argument.