Let's Ask My Friend, The Pope: Part II

Note: This is the second part of this essay. If you haven't read the first half, you should. It's HERE. For those of you that ignore my suggestion, please excuse the abrupt beginning. Here goes:

But what about the first century, when the bible was being written? What happened if the folks at Corinth didn't wuite get what Paul was saying about, for example, lawsuits among the brethren? The answer is simple: like the Catholics today, they simply asked the guy in charge. And the closer you are were to the author of a particular epistle, the better your chances as getting a definite answer. Conversely, your odds of misunderstanding increases with distance. Luke, to name one, probably had no misgivings about Paul's conversion story. Mark and Bartholomew could have setted any dispute by pulling Paul aside and double-checking themselves. Sometimes, as was the case with Peter, in Galatians, Paul didn't wait for someone to ask. He made a clarification when he saw one had become necessary (1).

Likewise, it seems unlikely that someone a thousand years after Christ and Paul could be the first person to understand one of their statements. Imagine a professor of Western Civilization publishing a book that attempted to "prove" something previously unknown about Abraham Lincoln. Pretend that this professor suggested that our sixteenth president was actually our twenty-fourth, or that he was gay, or female, or black. I hope it can be said of Americans that we are not so gullible. Hundreds of books have been written on Lincoln, many by people who knew the man. Lincoln himself put quite a lot into print. Portraits exist. Lincoln's clothing--men's clothing--is on display in at least one museum that I know of. All of these things testify to the fact that Abraham Lincoln was our sixteenth president, male, white, and straight. Someone, however, could manipulate this data with a quote from Lincoln's pen:

"If any personal description is thought desirable, it may be said that I am [of] dark complexion, with coarse black hair. (2)"

From this, they could argue that he was black, but despite what we read, we possess a couple hundred years of scholarship to correct our faulty assumptions.

And so, the proper interpretation of a scripture should be found close to the actual author of that scripture. Barring the existence of an extremely astute (or lucky) scholar, novel interpretations of scripture that contradict traditional interpretations are likely wrong, especially if they pop up without any pre-existing authority, or any authority at all, besides the interpreting author's say-so. As Solomon said, "There is nothing new under the sun."

All of this rests upon the rather reasonable assumption that when an author penned a letter, they themselves knew what they meant. This seems like common sense, even without scriptural support, but for skeptics and Bereans, Paul puts it plainly in I Corinthians 2:13 that his spoken word was given to him by the Holy Spirit, when he says the following:

"This is what we speak, not in words taught by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit."

Also II Thessalonians 2:15 (italics mine):

"So then brothers, stand firm and hold to the teachings we passed on to you, whether by word of mouth or by letter."

The words that Paul spoke, his lessons and explanations, were of the same inspiration, or were at least as reliable, as the epistles he wrote, and the fact that he was inspired to include that little fact proves to us that he was aware of it.

All of this isn't to say that every belief in the first and second centuries was free from heresy. To cite just a few, Paul warned of false teachers in II Corinthians 11:13 and Galatians 2:4; Peter spoke of them in II Peter 2:12-22; and Jude echoes his warning in the fourth verse of his very brief epistle. A teaching's presence in the early centuries isn't a guarantee against error, but a complete absence of it is an indictment. Truth should have precedent. It should have a pedigree.

1. Galatians 2:11-13
2. Lincoln's second autobiography

Let's Ask My Friend, The Pope: Part I

NOTE: This is an excerpt from a piece of non-fiction that I'm working on. Because of the overall length, I'm only posting about half of it tonight. Thought it may sound like I'm building a case for Catholicism, I'm really not. Tonight is just prep-work. Lord willing, I'll make my intended case next week.

Before he and Steve Jobs co-founded the Apple Computer Company in 1976, Steve Wozniak experimented with electronics that were a little less legal than the Apple II. One device, called by the seemingly innocous name "Blue Box," could be used to bounce a telephone call around the world, without charge. For kicks, he disguised his voice to sound like that of Henry Kissinger and tried to reach the Pope in Vatican City. The call was answered by one of the Holy Father's head men, and Wozniak was informed that His Holiness was asleep. Sadly, after all his efforts to manipulate the telephone company's technology, his fun little prank was canned by a flesh-and-blood priest.

But the question remains: What did Wozniak intend to say to Pope Paul VI? While I doubt he would have wasted the effort on something as juvenile as "Is your refrigerator running?" I don't think he had a question about the catechism's stance on perpetual virginity, either.

Or maybe he did. Maybe the whole scheme--the illegal blue box, the hours of telephone time, the stolen telephone company manuals--were meant to settle one burning issue that his parish priest had balked on. If that were the case, he could have hardly found a better person to ask.

In the roughly seventeen-hundred years that the Roman Catholic Church has officially existed, there have been very few misundertandings. Sure, there have been divisions and heretics, but those people didn't split off because they couldn't get an answer; they split because they didn't like the answer they were given.

All in all, the Catholic Church has a pretty effective way to deal with questions: Just ask.

Protestant churches, all four million kinds, don't have the same luxury. There is no unified head of the evangelical body--no one to answer all those doctrinal disputes that pop up at the Christian Brothers' Prayer Breakfast. If you're lucky enough to belong to a denomination with a district superintendent or a national president, you're doing better than most. This isn't a jab at non-Catholics; I am a non-Catholic. It's just a side effect of having one's way theologically.

Next week, I'll begin with this question: "But what about the first century, when the Bible was being written?" Continue with that blog HERE.