Can Protestants Embrace the Classical Tradition? (Part II)
In the previous installment, we established that sola scriptura is the operating principle of authority for all matters of faith. Thus, Scripture guides our understanding of the Church Fathers and the ecclesial tradition. But what of writers outside the faith discoursing on matters pertaining not to salvation but earthly life? The Protestant and Roman Catholic understandings of the classical tradition stem from two different conceptions of nature and grace. Rome separates these two ideas when it ought only to distinguish them, and therefore, its theology hinders attempts at appropriating the pagan classics. The Reformed Protestant position—that grace renews nature rather than destroying it—allows for a proper Christian reading of the classics.
Roman Catholic Understanding
In the teaching of the Roman Catholic church, Adam was created whole and entire according to nature. He possessed the natural faculties of will, reason, and appetite (among others). To this natural state, the donum superadditum granted spiritual gifts such as righteousness, holiness, faith, hope, and love—the image of God. When Adam fell, he lost these supernatural gifts, and his natural faculties were weakened through concupiscence. Yet he merely reverted to his original state of nature by losing the superadded gift. Man, through practice and habit, is still able to achieve his natural end. A man who lives by the light of reason and practices a natural religion (believing and living according to those things revealed outside of supernatural revelation) does not attain supernatural blessedness, but neither does he receive punishment in the afterlife. He goes to dwell in “limbo” like the philosophers and poets in the Divine Comedy.
To achieve his supernatural end, man must receive grace. In the Roman Catholic system, grace comes mediated through the sacraments as an infusion. This infusion of grace allows man to perform works counted as meritorious on the basis of condign merit. Because these works are performed in a state of grace, they are counted worthy on the strict basis of their own merits and are rewarded accordingly. [1] Grace, then, raises man up to a higher state. It bestows a higher end, a higher love, and a new law. This interaction between nature and grace, as well as faith and works, is the basis for the Protestant accusation that Rome adds works to faith.
In the Roman Catholic view, nature and grace stand dualistically opposed. Either grace supersedes and destroys nature, or nature declares independence from grace. In the Eucharist, the bread and wine become Christ’s body and blood and cease to be bread and wine. Monasticism entails a renunciation of the world. Clergy are elevated above the laity by mystical rite. The natural is a hindrance to the spiritual. Things in the supernatural order must be consecrated—holy water, anointing, exorcism, ordination. Bavinck even contends that the scholastic and the monastic impulse are twins. Both express themselves in total devotion to God in meditation and contemplation and the renunciation of earthly and natural life. [2] But apart from the life of spiritual devotion, there yet remains a possibility of a purely natural life.
Thomas Aquinas’s adoption of Aristotle as an independent authority displaces God as the only source of all truth. He allows for a non-theistic philosophy that can still speak truthfully about the world. But in order for this philosophy to be profitable for Christian use, it needs to be baptized. Roman Catholic thought must allow for “natural truth” apart from revelation, as well as “supernatural truth” known through faith. To harmonize the two, the natural must be subsumed into the supernatural. This approach undermines any sensible approach to reading the works of unbelievers, as they are rendered spiritually unprofitable. Grace ends up destroying nature.
As a Christian philosopher, Thomas does not allow reason to contradict truths learned by faith; if there is a conflict, it is due to a misunderstanding of faith or reason. Faith and reason are like two overlapping circles. Revelation can add to human knowledge beyond reason, but reason can operate autonomously from revelation. Later philosophers act consistently with Thomas’s foundation by rejecting truths of the faith (allegedly) on the grounds of reason. Rome thus sowed the seeds of the Enlightenment and the rejection of church authority.
For Roman Catholics, then, the pagan classics may be used in the study of human nature and to aid in the pursuit of heavenly life, but they can also be read independently from the Christian faith. One could conceivably be the perfect, virtuous, natural described by Aristotle who achieves man’s natural end, lacking nothing except the supernatural gift, and earning admittance to limbo status rather than outright hell. This is Bavinck’s conclusion, and he contends that the Enlightenment was a product of this nature/grace dualism. Since nature could exist independently of revelation, it threw off the yoke of the supernatural and sought to establish the natural order on its own foundation. [3]
Protestant Understanding
We must understand the nature of man in at least three aspects: the first man (Adam), fallen man, and redeemed man. In contrast to Rome’s belief, Adam was created upright in true knowledge, righteousness, and holiness. He possessed complete integrity of nature. To use the Latin, he was perfectus. He did not lack anything according to his nature; he did not require a superadded gift to be complete. Righteousness belonged to him as a man. Now, eternal life was held out to him as the reward of his obedience to the covenant, and this would have been a higher state of life than he had previously had. But this eschatological life was something beyond mere nature. According to both nature and the image of God, he was complete.
When Adam lost this gift, his nature was marred or damaged by sin. His faculties became impaired. He did not lose the image of God or fall to the level of nature but was corrupted in every part. He no longer reasoned as he ought, loved as he ought, or willed as he ought. All mankind descending from him by ordinary generation inherited this corruption. As Jesuit Frederick Copleston confesses, the Augustinian always beholds man as he is, fallen and redeemed. [4] Anything good that man would do is owing to the operation of the Holy Spirit in illuminating the mind and restraining wickedness. This is God’s common grace to the world.
Contrary to what some Reformed apologists have taught, fallen man can know things. He is capable of making scientific discoveries, performing operations of arithmetic, reading and understanding texts (even Scripture), and reasoning logically from premises to conclusions. While reason is fallen, it is not destroyed. Man is prone to go astray and insert his sinful desires into his thoughts, but he is not totally incapable of reason. Every part of man is corrupted, but he is not totally corrupted. Shattered remnants of God’s image remain.
Natural man, therefore, can explore the natural world and devise great artifacts of human ingenuity. He can understand human nature in its operations. He may discover and explain virtue and vice, human relations, arts, and sciences. Many of the pagan philosophers provided great insight into the human condition and mapped patterns of thought or modes of living. They described political impulses and operations in great detail. Fallen man is still capable of knowing and communicating truth.
Protestants contend that grace does not destroy nature, but restores, renews, and redeems. It makes whole and entire what was marred by sin—it perfects. This is a restoration of nature, not a wholly new plane of existence. Grace is that which is granted by revelation and faith. Doctrine is taught in the Scriptures and believed by faith, not proved by rational argument (although it is not illogical). Grace fits man for his supernatural end, that of eternal beatitude and union with God. Doctrine, therefore, is limited in its scope: it is concerned with righteousness before God and forgiveness of sins. It does not describe engine repair, farming techniques, economics, or politics.
Redemption, however, does order the earthly life. The phrase, “common grace preserves nature; special grace consummates nature” is insufficient to describe the renewing work of the Holy Spirit. The regenerating work of the Spirit also fits man for his earthly task. The earthly life becomes ordered to the heavenly. That is, while Scripture may not speak directly to repairing BMW engines or constructing a timber frame barn, it does provide direction to man’s activities. He no longer works for himself, but for the Lord. What he does, he does as a Christian. He is compelled to obey the Scriptures in all his dealings—in the manner in which he works. Grace supplies the motive, the manner, and the purpose for his work. Grace restores nature. Even In-N-Out knows this.
The Reformed position distinguishes between nature and grace; it does not divide them. Grace renews but does not destroy nature. The Christian man does not disregard his natural duties towards his family of loving and providing for them when he is regenerated. Rather, he orders natural family life to prayer, hospitality, charity, and worship. The laborer does not cease to construct roads but does so as a Christian. The politician does not throw out all previous works on politics; he reads them in light of the gospel as he proposes just laws to order civil society towards their highest good.
Comparison
These two distinct approaches to nature and grace lead to diverse methods and goals of teaching classical literature. Rome divides where it should distinguish. Nature either exists independently from grace, or grace must swallow up nature. This view replaces the contrast between sin and grace with a dualism of nature and grace.
The Roman Catholic understanding leads either to the elevation of human reason apart from God or the destruction of the natural by the supernatural. It ends either with skepticism and an attempt to live morally without God or mysticism and monasticism. In the supernatural order, this world is in fact unnecessary. The ascetic life is the pinnacle of existence. The clergy is sanctified and set apart from the laity. After the carnival comes the wilderness.
The Protestant distinction allows grace to sanctify and redeem nature while allowing the arts and sciences their own principles and development. “Grace does not remain outside or above or beside nature but rather permeates and wholly renews it.” [5] It does not create a new supernatural order existing alongside the natural. Redeemed man is fit for both his earthly task and heavenly calling. He fulfills the weekly pattern of work and sabbath rest, always acting in God’s strength and for His glory.
The Reformed confessions testify that God has spoken through two books: the world and Scripture. Both are given so that we might know Him. All of nature—history, philosophy, poetry, math, science—testify to the God who is. The glories of pagan civilization are meant to lead men to repentance. The arts and sciences may have been “born and conceived in sin, but they are not of themselves sinful or unclean. They can be sanctified by the word and Spirit of Christ.” [6] Thus, grace reaches out and embraces what is good in the natural world. It corrects sin and directs all towards the supernatural end, but it does not destroy nature.
Christianity does not introduce a single substantial foreign element into the creation. It creates no new cosmos but rather makes the cosmos new. It restores what was corrupted by sin. It atones the guilty and cures what is sick; the wounded it heals. [7]
Everything good that man does is possible because the Spirit of God restrains evil and prevents the world from degenerating into lawless cannibalism. Every work of art produced by unbelieving man is due to illumination and grace from the Spirit. God’s goodness falls liberally on the world, so that man might be led along the beams of light to the Sun or else stand condemned in the final day for rejecting the source of every good thing. The book of nature is meant to be read for God’s glory, that believers may know God in all His works, and honor Him through good works in the world. God is the source of all knowledge and every good thing.
Conclusion
Properly relating nature to grace allows for a consistent view of man. Separating nature and grace instead of distinguishing necessarily creates two tracks of life, the earthly and heavenly, secular and spiritual, common and redemptive. The Reformed position properly relates the earthly life to the heavenly. Grace restores nature, fits man for his earthly task, and promises the eternal kingdom.
This view sanctifies and provides meaning to earthly life. One need not retreat to the monastery or the convent. The cleric and mystic does not stand on a different plane than the commoner. Protestantism restored the glory of the ordinary vocations. All work may be sanctified and offered for the Lord’s use. Thus, the Christian may fruitfully pursue works of culture-building, service, construction, or politics. Farming and accounting are legitimate professions that can be done for God’s glory.
Apart from grace, man remains fallen. His reason, will, and appetites are corrupt and pursue only evil. He may demonstrate a semblance of virtue—pharisees make good neighbors—but fails to love God with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength. He may discover the movements of the stars or life cycles of frogs, write works of great insight and beauty, devise ingenious machines, or create wonderful works of art, but he never does these for the Lord’s service. He cannot relate them to spiritual things and often errs in his understanding of heavenly matters.
Nevertheless, to the Christian, these works provide prudent instruction in earthly virtue or natural things. The next installment will consider how Protestants have related to the pagan classics and incorporated them into their education and instruction.
Endnotes
[1] Herman Bavinck, “Common Grace [1894],” trans. R. C. van Leeuwen, Calvin Theological Journal 24 (1989): 47.
[2] Bavinck, 48.
[3] Bavinck, 49.
[4] Frederick Copleston, Medieval Philosophy, A History of Philosophy, Vol. II, (New York: Doubleday, 1993), pg. 49.
[5] Bavinck, 59.
[6] Bavinck, 64.
[7] Bavinck, 61.
