Abstract
Roger Haight’s three-volume Christian Community in History (hereafter, CCH) is a challenging work. Distinguishing between ‘Ecclesiology from Above’ and ‘Ecclesiology from Below’ (Vol. 1, ch. 1), he advocates the latter by placing historical study in the privileged position of theological handmaiden. Each volume covers a particular time period. The first begins with the apostles and ends with fifteenth-century conciliarism; the second extends from Luther to Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry; the third and final volume attempts to bring all of this to bear upon the present by synthesizing it into a broad but appealing ecumenical ecclesiology.
The titles of each volume are worth noting. These constitute an argument about what is primary, what is secondary, and how to resolve the disparity if not the antinomy between the first two. As Haight makes clear in the last pages of the work, his ultimate goal is to enable the churches to respond to ‘the imperative of partial communion’ (Vol. 3, p. 288). This is possible because, as he states in his first volume, CCH ‘presupposes Christian unity’ (Vol. 1, p. 9). This is an immense claim that Haight regrettably never attempts to vindicate. Instead, he concludes that through common if minimal affirmations, churches might recognize something of themselves in one another: Haight, however, would like churches to engage in a more robust acceptance of his view that ‘historical consciousness legitimizes diversity’ (Vol. 3, p. 7). Churches might thus recognize themselves as being in pilgrimage together, not merely to the City of God but ever and always before the non-Christian world. (But aren’t most churches wholly comfortable in stating that they are in partial communion with most other churches?)
Haight’s understanding of history is the key for his work. Depending on one’s academic training, this will either legitimate the arguments of CCH or fatally undermine them. In truth, Haight’s usage of ‘historical’ bears little resemblance to what historians (such as myself) actually do. This can be seen in three important ways. First, Haight defines ‘historical’ with the language of continental philosophy; in the opening pages of the first volume, he writes, ‘an “ecclesiology from below” refers to a method that is “concrete, existential, and historical”’ (p. 4). Particularly in Volume 1, he writes of various ‘dialectical tensions’ (p. 12) that define the history of the Church (e.g. pp. 41, 262). Those wed to nineteenth-century philosophy, particularly its theories about history, may find all of this quite palatable, but historians today are rather hesitant to appeal to trans-historical laws or patterns as a means for understanding the past.
Second, Haight assumes that historical study is about change, and that it therefore relativizes truth claims. For example, he avers, ‘Historians by and large have a strong sense of the relativity of historical institutions as they develop’ (Vol. 1, p. 7). This is an overstatement. Historians study not just change over time, but continuity as well; the latter is often denoted as the longue durée. History is full of such continuities, from governmental structures to cultural values. Language is an especially helpful way of thinking about continuity, for, although some words change meaning over time, many words remain fairly stable. What is more, some words change meaning faster than others because change is neither unidirectional nor constant. Although languages are not static, who would claim that linguists or dictionary editors embrace only the relativity – as opposed to the general continuity – of semantics or grammatical rules? Haight, however, defines the Church with reference to his belief in historical relativity: ‘Historical ecclesiology shows a church tied to history, so that constant historical movement and change characterize the church radically or in its very roots’ (Vol. 1, p. 7). In terms of historical methodology, focusing on change at the expense of continuity is one-sided. There is no historical reason for Haight to define the Church (or any other institution) with reference to flux alone.
Lastly, most of Haight’s understanding of Church history comes primarily from secondary texts. If this were a properly historical work, it would set primary sources in a privileged position over and above more recent historiography. Haight does study the writings of important figures such Cyprian, Augustine, Luther, and Hooker, but they are contextualized largely with reference to modern scholarship rather than other contemporary authors, texts and events. In the end, the first two volumes of CCH read like a survey of the ideas of ‘great men’ rather than an integrated history of how Christians have thought about the Church. This is especially regrettable when it comes to the sixteenth century, which produced a vast number of confessional statements. Many of these were intended to take political and/or canonical precedent over the writings of individual theologians. Confessions were produced by and intended for particular communities of Christians. What could be more ecclesiologically relevant than this? The same is true of canon law, which receives no discussion. By way of example, Lutherans subscribe to the Book of Concord, not to the writings of Martin Luther, but Haight focuses on the latter rather than the former. Similarly, the 1603 canon law of the Church of England was used for more than three hundred years; is it not more ecclesiologically important than the writings of Richard Hooker, which have both risen and fallen in popularity over time?
As the preceding three points indicate, I find it difficult to describe CCH as a properly historical ecclesiology. What then of its theological value? This depends largely upon how one conceives of the relationship between history and theology. Beginning with the second chapter of the first volume and continuing through the end of Volume 2, Haight concludes each chapter with a section entitled ‘Principles for a Historical Ecclesiology’. This is rather curious given his understanding of history as change, for how does change allow us to extract ‘principles’ that might be applied across time and space, irrespective of context? The successful application of such principles requires uniformity in history, just as the successful application of science requires uniformity in nature. But uniformity is not the same as continuity, which may be just as contingent as change itself. Most Christians would undoubtedly agree with some of Haight’s principles, such as ‘The Normativity of the Early Church’ (Vol. 1, p. 134). Other principles are more contentious, such as ‘Change in the Conception of the Nature of the Church’ (Vol. II, p. 80) and ‘The Principle of External Sacramentality’ (Vol. 2, p. 285). There is a diversity of Christian ecclesiologies precisely because we do not accept all of the changes that define us, and one such point of contention is the idea that the Church is a means of grace. Most evangelicals would deny this point, most Catholics would affirm it, and a purportedly historical ‘ecclesiology from below’ cannot help us resolve the disparity between these two perspectives. Rather, the differences are fundamentally incommensurable. Only a first principle that transcends the historical development of these two perspectives can function as a criterion of judgement. (I am therefore inclined to propose that for a historical ecclesiology to be a worthwhile endeavour, it must also be eschatological, for judgement will bring time and dissension to an end. Regrettably, the eschaton is not discussed in CCH.)
Students interested in the ecclesiological perspectives of particular theologians will find CCH a helpful place to begin some of their inquiries. Theologians concerned with ecclesiology and/or theological method will find in Haight an articulate representative of one particular school of thought. Nonetheless, the historical ecclesiology proposed by CCH is ultimately unworkable. On the one hand, it lacks a solid grounding in historical methodology; on the other hand, because the validity of Haight’s work depends upon his untenable approach to history, we are justified in questioning the validity of his theological claims as well. ‘Ecclesiology from above’ assumes that some facets of the Church transcend historical context and thus define the Church always, everywhere and for all. Haight argues that such an ecclesiological method cannot give what it claims to deliver. And yet, in some ways, his work is no different, for in seeking principles in history he still seeks truths unencumbered by context. So why not call CCH what it is – namely, an ahistorical ecclesiology?