Author Archive for cchrisr

Healthy Practices

Now that I’ve outlined three ethical situations that unconsciously affect the discussion of healthcare, I’d like to investigate some of the practical issue. The point here is not to make a judgment as to which system is better, but to compare them in a neutral light.  I want to look at some of the common criticisms aimed at particular systems (primarily socialized medicine and private medicine) and examine them across the board.  I will follow this part with a third that looks at the implementations of each system (finally).

The Problem of Waiting
In Michael Moore’s Sicko, the picture is painted that people in Canada, France, and the UK get VIP treatment when it comes to medical attention. This is partially true when it comes to seeing a GP/PCP.  For instance, I can schedule a foreseeable, regular appointment (e.g. a regular checkup) with my GP and should be able to get an appointment two days out; I can also schedule an emergency, same-day appointment if I am unwell.  The wait for appointments is minimal (5-10 minutes).  However, this is really no different in the US.

In addition to these two types of appointments, most GPs in the UK offer phone consultations daily where doctors advise patients if there should be some concern or not and a daily open clinic where it is a first-come, first-serve basis (mine happens to be for one hour in the afternoon). Oftentimes, GPs in the UK still offer house calls as well for those who are physically unable to get to the clinic.  These three are less common in the US primarily because they have very limited use benefits where access to personal transportation is the norm (e.g. since more people use public transportation, it may be very difficult for an ill elderly person to get to the clinic, so house calls are useful for that).

The situation is largely the same when it comes to emergency care.  Ambulance response can be horrific in rural areas in both countries.  However, the normative time for an ambulance when one calls 9-1-1 (9-9-9 in the UK) is very similar in both countries. Additionally, the ER (A&E in the UK) is prioritized for extremely urgent care and a non-urgent case can suffer a long wait time; however, this is because there are walk-in clinics for these non-urgent cases, usually right next to an ER. In these cases, the time for waiting isn’t much different in either country.

When it comes to special situations, there is less of a country-wide norm.  Seeing a specialist in the UK requires a referral (like most in the US) and can take time if that specialist is overbooked.  A six-month wait is not uncommon (but also not the norm!) in the UK, but this is also true in the US. I know of at least three different “specialist” practices in the US (two OB/GYNs and one urologist) had a wait time of 5-6 months because of overbooking. Similarly, I have heard numerous accounts of people in the UK saying that they only waited a week to see a specialist.

So, let’s face it, people will be waiting, regardless of how the system operates because waiting is linked to something other than the healthcare system, be it population size, number of specialists in an area, whatever. Even when it comes to operations, there are wait times.  When I had a nasal surgery in Denver, I had to wait 3 months for an opening in the surgery schedule. We must be able to separate the practicality of scheduling a surgery with the ethos of how a problem is handled.  In the UK, that ethos is one of “wait and see” and arguments for it stem from verifying that the action in question is the best one for that situation. This is a different ethos than that of the US which prefers (ideally) to prescribe an action right away (e.g. surgery, medication, etc). Taking into account the approval process on both sides of the pond, there really isn’t much difference in waiting for anything.
Continue reading ‘Healthy Practices’

Health for Profit

Let me begin by being very honest.  I’m probably the closest thing to a left-wing socialist this site has.  I’ve been thinking about the philosophical underpinnings to this subject for quite a while, first as an American living in the UK and secondly (most recently) as I watched Michael Moore’s film Sicko.  Before getting into the “practical” side of this (that’s part 2), I wanted to look at the ethical situations various healthcare systems create.  I would like to look at three different situations:

  1. the role of the medical doctor
  2. the role of the patient
  3. the role of whatever controls the healthcare

Corporate Mindsets
The nature of every for-profit corporation is to make a profit, typically by spending the least amount of money possible. This means that a for-profit medical company, whether it is a hospital, insurance provider, or medical expert, aims to make money on the majority of its transactions. An unjust strategy would be to deny as many services as possible by any means necessary (i.e. pocket as much money as possible). An idealist strategy would be to approve all services at whatever cost (i.e. run into bankruptcy).  When the goal of healthcare is a profit margin, the system moves towards the “unjust strategy” because the primary objective is money instead of healthcare.

Michael Moore’s film is great at emphasizing this as the common situation in the US healthcare industry . Sicko is also great at empasizing the idealist strategy as the common situation in other countries’ healthcare (e.g. Canada, UK, France, and Cuba). I am not interested right now in debating the extent to which the film is accurate (it definitely isn’t, but when is a documentary entirely so?) but creating two extreme poles of healthcare.  The first ethical situation which a good discussion about healthcare needs to resolve is this: where is the acceptable “middle ground” (if any) between the two poles of healthcare-for-profit and healthcare-as-ideal.

Prescriptive Care
Related to the first ethical situation is one revolving around the role of the doctor.  In a for-profit industry, a doctor has a second ethical issue to resolve that is his/her own variation of above: profit versus care. Medical doctors take an oath to save and preserve life (or to that effect).  However, when they are faced also with the role of a business owner in a for-profit, competitive market, they must find how to resolve the two poles listed above.

When the healthcare industry tends towards the idealist pole (which I will later argue is part of universal healthcare in European countries), doctors need not worry about such things.  However, doctors are then given a different ethical situation revolving around fairness and equality.  In universal healthcare industries, the limitation of resources is based on need and population size rather than need and finances. A person diagnosed with cancer is ranked against all cancer patients across the healthcare market.  In a private, for-profit system, this means within the insurance company and tends to mean a shorter list of people competing for treatments.  It is the insurance company that weighs each situation, ranks the priority of the patients, etc.  In a universal system, there is only one company handling the entire population. As a result, there is a greater responsibility on the GP/PCP to investigate the need and submit the recommendation to the healthcare system.  Additionally, there are fewer specialists because there is no competition for profits, which results in a greater workload for the specialist.

The second ethical situation, then, is how the practitioner resolves the results of the first situation (limitations of resources) with the principles of the oath he takes as a practitioner.  These can be situated within the framework of a medical association which can provide ethical guidelines for the practitioner to dance between these two ideals.

Patiently Waiting
The final ethical situation I want to highlight follows from the previous ones as well: what is the role of the individual as patient in all of this?  This one was less obvious to me until I began to experience the UK’s healthcare system.  What role does the patient take in his/her own well-being?  In other words, how should the professionals treat a patient’s opinion?

There are limitations to this (e.g. patient’s understanding), but to what extent should an individual not utilize the doctor’s office?  This is the one aspect which Sicko does not discuss about healthcare in the UK.  There is a greater emphasis in the UK to try to heal on one’s own without a prescription.  This doesn’t mean one is supposed to wait until one is dying of pneumonia but that a normally healthy person should be able to recover from a cold without seeing the doctor in addition to knowing when one should see the doctor. Michael Moore never gets to this situation because his emphasis on healthcare-as-ideal and doctor’s responsibility seeks to largely remove the individual responsibility.

The Fear of Toys

Last year, congress passed a law that requires every product made for children 12 and under must be free of lead and certain chemical compounds.  This, in itself is a good idea.  However, it completely destroys the economic model the US is trying so desperate to keep in play by bailing out big-name companies: the “free-market.”

Costs
The law requires every product, not just a random sampling but all, to be tested.  The price to test a cloth diaper, for instance, runs at $400 each.  If the requirement was simply one out of a hundred, it means a differential of only $4 per diaper, something that most companies could afford.  For many smaller manufacturers and individual homemade crafters, this could mean the end of their business.  This also means that many secondhand stores, such as Goodwill and other thrift shops, will be unable to accept clothing and toys without the new label.

The Freedom-Eating Market
Ironically, this comes at a time when the US government is throwing millions (or is it billions?) of dollars at financial and automotive industries so that they don’t close their doors.  The hypocrisy here is that it is fine for small toymakers to close shop and be replaced by larger ones who can absorb the third-party testing of products, but it is not acceptable for large corporations to close shop and be replaced by any other business large or small.  Had each of these issues been left to the “free market,” both would have been resolved without the need for regulations.

For the toys and other childrens’ products, how many adults knowingly and willingly let their children play with products that are harmful?  Look at the many recalls Thomas the Tank Engine toys had over the last two years and the effect the recalls have had on the business.  One article on NPR (link) ends with a marketing researcher implying that companies who try to hide these issues end badly.  For the large corporations, a truly free market would have seen some close, some merge, and new ones arise without much problem.  Sure, there would have been a major recession (like there isn’t one now?), but it would have costed the government and the people much less.  Recessions cannot be stopped when they are already immanent; they possibly could be averted before they are noticed, but that is the kind of far-sightedness governments lack.

Postcard from Scotland: I Heart Education

By popular request, I will provide an overview of the education system in the UK as compared to that of the US.  Students begin their education in Primary School at around the age of 5. Primary education is much like elementary schools in the US.  They go through 7 years here before going to a secondary school (i.e. high school).

Secondary Education
For those of you who have read the Harry Potter series, you’re already familiar with secondary school in the UK. Students are required to attend this for 4 years.  At the end of this time, students take their Standard Grade exams (once called O-levels) in 7-9 subject areas. Once the student completes these, he is able to enter the workforce similar to a US citizen who have receive a high school diploma. In the rest of the UK, the equivalent of Standard Grade is the GCSE.  Secondary schools have an optional 2 years which begin at this point.  Most students stay at least another year as it is required for university-level education (1 for Scotland or 2 for the rest of the UK). Starting in the fourth year of secondary school (but not generally until the fifth), students are allowed to take “Higher” courses.  In the UK, these are known as AS-levels.  These courses are roughly equivalent to most intro-level college courses in the US. Students focus their efforts here If a student stays for the sixth year, he takes “Advanced Higher” and/or additional Highers. Advanced Highers are generally equivalent in the UK to A-levels. Students staying this far do so for university admissions, however the quality of education at this level is closer to that of a (good) junior college in the US as it provides a solid base for specialization in the university. Students who do not go on to university in these optional years work towards their Higher National Certificate and/or Higher National Diploma. These are scaled slightly under the bachelor’s degree and are roughly equivalent to an associate’s degree in the US.

Qualifications
With all of that said, there is still more regarding education.  In the UK, education’s main goal is marketable skills.  Because of this, there is a unified structure of qualification levels (SCQF in Scotland, NQF in the rest of the UK).  I will be following the Scottish structure, but the national one follows it closely.  Once students reach their fourth year of secondary school, they begin to gain points on the SCQF. This is a general scale for depth of education, so that basic secondary education is low and graduate degrees are high. There is also a second scale (Scottish Vocational Qualifications or SVQ) which more broadly indicates the level of competence one ought to have. SVQ is a vocational scale utilized more often in apprenticeships than in education. Because of the way secondary school is structured in that it provides means for apprenticeships to begin while still in school, the two scales do correlate weakly.  By the time a student reaches SCQF level 3, he is expected to be competent in basic, routine work (SVQ 1).  By the time a student has completed the mandatory part of secondary school (Standard Grades), he will be on SCQF level4 (or sometimes level 5) and this should also correlate to SVQ 2 (is able to perform a broad range of skills).  A student who stays in secondary school through the 2 optional years should be on the SCQF level 7 (sometimes 6) and is expected to have competency as a supervisor (SVQ 3).  A student who graduates from a university with a regular degree is considered SCQF level 9 (Honours degree is level 10).  The upper SCQF levels (11 and 12) are for Master’s and doctoral degrees (respectively). Additionally, there are two levels of the SVQ which can be awarded: management (SVQ 4) and senior management (SVQ 5).

Simulated Identities

Baudrillard has become somewhat famous in popular culture through the play on his ideas in the movie The Matrix where an astute viewer can see the image of his face appear as a ghostly haunting throughout the film (he also helped in the writing and production of the film). However, he has been “famous” for some time in contemporary philosophy as one of the pioneers in theorizing about the body and the images. In his book, Impossible Exchange, he proposes a progression of simulation which can be seen in two examples: capital and identity.

The first progression is that from the object to signs. In other words, an object begins with some kind of arbitrary value which is the basis for exchange. Money and capital as we know it did not exist at this level. We can see this in action with historical transactions between two entities: I exchange ten pounds of fertilizer and receive 25 gallons of milk. However, the progression to signs involves a kind of “standardization” in which each objects value is given a relatively static exchange ratio: a gallon of milk will be 4 units of this new sign–be it a dollar or whatever. At this point, the object becomes a commodity that is freely exchangeable in the market; it has become a simulation of the object.

This ability to be exchanged brings about the second progression: fetishism. A fetish is a perversion of the object that further removes it from the “real” object. It becomes a “pure, unrepresentable, unexchangeable object–yet a nondescript one” (Baudrillard, Impossible Exchange, 129). Here, the object is taken to the point of being a desire for the sake of desire. Zizek sees this best in the example of Caffeine free Diet Coke: it lacks everything that makes “Coke” “Coke” but it is the pure semblance of Coke, “an artificial promise of a substance which never [materializes]” (Zizek, The Fragile Absolute, 22). The fetish is not just a simulation of a simulation (what Baudrillard calls a simulacra) but it is also devoid of the “original” object: it is the nothingness itself.

Here we can see the final progression: the spectre (or phantasm). The object now becomes an unrepresented non-being which haunts the “real.” Not only does the object become a simulation, but even its component parts become simulated: Toyota cars are manufactured 60% in the USA.

Perhaps the best example of this progression is in the phenomena called “reality TV.” These shows are no more real than “normal TV”: absurd scenarios with unreal events, simulated events, false personas, etc. Here, the actors are not given a particular role but rather play their own made-up role, an idealized, distorted self-image.

A direct corollary can be seen in that of The Matrix where those in the “real world” are projected back into the “virtual” world of the Matrix as imagined bodies. One’s identity in the “real world” is fragmented and distorted as the Matrix is treated as being more real than real, a hyperreality. As the end of The Matrix trilogy shows: there is no real distinction between the “real” world and that of the Matrix because one’s identity is a composite of fragments from many different “worlds” which reach across all the boundaries.

Where does all of this leave identity? A poster put up in Berlin in 1994 poked fun at loyalties to identities: “Your Christ is a Jew. Your car is Japanese. Your pizza is Italian. Your democracy–Greek. Your coffee–Brazilian. Your holiday–Turkish. Your numbers–Arabic. Your letters–Latin. Only your neighbour is a foreigner” (quoted from Zygmunt Bauman, Identity, 27). As the above progression of simulation is explored, it will become more obvious that “‘belonging’ and ‘identity’ are not cut in rock, that they are not secured by a lifelong guarantee, that they are eminently negotiable and revocable; and that one’s own decisions, the steps one takes, the way one act–and the determination to stick by all that–are crucial factors of both” (Bauman, 11).

Tradition & Heresy

(This is the fourth and final part of a series on tradition. Part One, Part Two, Part Three.)

Tradition is best defined as the cyclical interaction between orthodoxy and scriptures. It can be seen most in the way that scriptures have been transformed through the course of time in their interaction with orthodoxy. Brevard Childs has provided an excellent resource for this: his book The Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture. This one work is a wonderful collection of texts from as early as the second century with the most influential church fathers to as late as ten years ago; it is one of the best collections covering the way that the book of Isaiah has been reinterpreted throughout Christianity. As the book revolves around the interpretation of Isaiah from the second century to the twenty-first century, it is worth a brief look to show the interaction between orthodoxy and scriptures.

Isaiah as an Example
Childs begins with Justin Martyr’s take on Isaiah. Justin reads in Isaiah the prophecies of the virgin birth and the suffering servant, particularly seeing the death of Christ as being symbolic of the Passover lamb. Yet Justin also has his own radical interpretations, such as applying the attacks in Isaiah 3 and 5 on the eighth-century Jewish leadership to the Jews of his own day [Brevard Childs, Struggle to Understand Isaiah as Christian Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004): 41].

The first two interpretations carry to this day, but the third was eventually excluded in later (much later) generations. It is already here that there is an influence of scripture on orthodoxy, which gets re-interpreted as the basis for later interpretations.

Soon after Justin, Irenaeus added a few interpretations of his own. His chief addition was in interpreting Isaiah 7 and 9 as indicating the divine and human nature of Jesus [Childs, 51]. Irenaeus is also one of the first church fathers to quote at length Christian writings and treat these as canonical literature. By the end of the third century, orthodoxy had equalized about the nature of Christ and began to flesh out its view of the incarnation of Christ. Eusebius in the third century is fixated by this idea and dedicates four chapters of his Demonstratio Evangelica to it [Childs, 83]. Furthermore, Eusebius authored the earliest extant commentary on Isaiah—evidence that Isaiah had successfully crossed over from Jewish to Christian scripture [Origen authored the first, but it is lost].

The interaction has thus far developed in this way after the death and resurrection: the early Christian community sought to read the Jewish scriptures through the lens of the death and resurrection, which lead them to the passages in Isaiah (as well as others) that could be re-read as foretelling Jesus. By appealing to these Jewish scriptures for Christian theology, they had created the first connection between scriptures and orthodoxy: one had to believe in the death of Christ as a symbol of the Passover lamb. By making this first connection, Christianity treated Isaiah now as Christian scriptures; the first cycle. Within just 100 years, this cycle was completed again as orthodoxy included the virgin birth, the divinity of Jesus, and the human incarnation of God. By 400 CE, Isaiah was so integral to orthodoxy that it had gained acceptance throughout Christianity. This was the case with most of the books accepted into the canon at the second Council of Carthage.

Changes and Alterations
There are also cases where orthodoxy has changed scriptures, either by removing texts from the canon or modifying the actual texts. One such instance is the story of Bel and the Dragon from the Septuagint . Not only was this text attested by fathers of orthodoxy (Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen) [Lee McDonald, The Formation of the Christian Biblical Canon (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995): 103], but it was also accepted at the Council of Carthage. It was removed during the Reformation first by protestants in their struggle to return to the Jewish scriptures, even though it appears in the original 1611 Authorized Version as well as being listed in the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England.

There is also a second form of orthodoxy interacting with scripture: deliberate alterations. In the Gospel of Luke’s account of Jesus’ baptism, there is a point where God speaks from the heavens saying “You are my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased” [Luke 3:23, NRSV]. Yet many early variants record God saying “You are my Son, today I have begotten you.” Bart Ehrman believes that this variant is the earlier, more original text which was changed in order to prevent an adoptionist reading of the passage [Bart Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus (New York: HarperOne, 2005): 159-160]. It is highly likely that this is the case, but it brings up the question on how orthodoxy and scripture should interact.

Theologians today seem to suggest that it should be a simple relationship indicated by fidelity to the original texts (or what we can gather as such) coupled with studious translation and interpretation to that. On the other hand, history has consistently suggested that orthodoxy and scripture should define and change the other, even at the cost of losing the most original documents. It may be better to see scriptures “not primarily as a chronicle but as a testimony of faith in the One who identified himself to Moses from the burning bush” [Jaroslav Pelikan, Whose Bible is it? (New York: Penguin, 2005): 31].

Tradition is arguably the most important aspect for the longevity of a religion. While it is normally seen as the handing down of beliefs from one generation to the next, it should also be seen as that which is handed down, particularly the interaction between orthodoxy and scriptures. This interaction is a never-ending cycle of alteration and redefining, sometimes subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle). The relation most often seen is scriptures defining orthodoxy. Yet the reciprocal also happens, perhaps more often than some admit; orthodoxy changes scriptures through either interpretation or in modifying the set of accepted scriptures. These two functions play on each repetition of each other throughout multiple generations. Whereas some people see this as problematic, it should be embraced as an integral part of the nature of religious movements as they are concerned ultimately with the nonphysical, be it God, nirvana, rebirth, or the end of ages. Faith is not a matter of fidelity to a group of texts but rather that which inspired those texts.

Tradition & Theology - Part III

(This is part 3 of a four part series on tradition. Part one can be found here, part two here.)

Tradition is where religious authority is found; it is no wonder then that it is deeply embedded in the concepts of orthodoxy and sacred scriptures. Tradition is the endless cycle of dialogues between scripture and orthodoxy that travel through each generation, never quite the same in each instance. The tradition handed down is the contextual backdrop for the current dialogue. There is never a moment in these dialogues that tradition is not somehow involved, even in the most extreme theologies (e.g., theologies that believes that the scriptures can be completely understood at face value without any context). In other words, even a theology that says it rejects tradition still plays in the game of interaction between scripture and orthodoxy.

Beginning with the Council of Trent and surfacing most recently in the Second Vatican Council, the Roman Catholic Church has emphasized its belief in tradition as coming from the same authoritative source as scriptures [Robert Murray, “Tradition and Sacred Texts,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 6:1 (Jan 2004): 6. Also, the document “Dei Verbum” which was the backbone for II Vatican]. Protestant denominations have frequently claimed “sola Scriptura” as Martin Luther did during the Reformation, yet many still appeal to a form of tradition (e.g., the Baptist Faith and Message, Westminster Confession, and Thirty-nine Articles). No group of Christians has been able to survive without tradition because it undergirds orthodoxy.

Why is it that some (or many) Christians want orthodoxy without tradition? This can be answered by looking more closely at how orthodoxy views itself.

Orthodoxy distinguishes itself by the quality of its theology: originality, proper (or true) transmission from its inception, unity and universality, and a middle way between heretical extremes [John B. Henderson, The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy (Albany, NY: SUNY, 1998): 85]. In other words, orthodoxy is seen as the original “formula” that existed from the beginning and was accepted by all believers. Heterodoxy was, by extension, a deviation from orthodoxy; Eusebius used this as an argument against heterodoxy[Henderson, 85].

Even when it is clearly not the case that the orthodox position was the primary, original view, it has been re-interpreted as such by its proponents. An example of this can be found during the Reformation when Luther rejected the deuterocanonical books as part of the canon, part of his (and later followers’) argument was that these texts were originally not part of the canon, despite the Council of Carthage in 397 declaring otherwise (this is the same council that affirmed the Synod of Hippo’s canon, which Protestants accept for defining the canon of the NT).

Another argument used by orthodoxy is the harmony and unity of their beliefs in contrast to the heterodox ones. This notion is a powerful argument for the orthodox because it paints all other theologies as not only divergent from the “true” orthodox but also as divergent within themselves. Why should heterodoxy be entertained if it is self-refuting? Related to this quality is that of universality.

The earliest form of the church was the catholic—universal—church. The Nicene Creed of 381 states that there is “one holy catholic and apostolic Church”—the two qualities that come only from orthodox belief.

The final quality of note is that of moderation. Orthodoxy prides itself on keeping away from heretical extremes. We can see examples of this in the most basic doctrines of orthodox Christianity: Christology (both divine and human in one person) and the trinity (three persons in one substance). In order to fuel this line of argument, orthodoxy must create a canon; both church fathers such as Augustine and Reformation leaders such as Luther agreed that the church had the “power to recognize the books of the canon” [Jaroslav Pelikan, Reformation of Church and Dogma (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1984): 263].

As beliefs grow from a singular point (e.g., Jesus the crucified and risen messiah), regular texts are perceived in new light as authoritative. One example of this is the acceptance of 2 Peter into the canon in order to “[oppose] those who promote false teaching” [Bart Ehrman, The New Testament (New York: Oxford, 2000): 421] even though its claim to authorship by the apostle Peter was not well received.

Another more well known example is Luther’s exclusion of not only the deuterocanonical books but also James, Hebrews, Jude, and Revelation from the canon! [Lee McDonald, The Formation of the Christian Biblical Canon (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995): 226] Just as the nature of orthodoxy is the creation (and maintenance) of a canon, the function of a canon is to define orthodoxy. Tradition, in the sense of this interaction, is the compass (orthodoxy) and map (scriptures) to the territory of belief.

Tradition & Text - Part II

Author’s Note: This is part 2 of a 4-part series on tradition. Part 1 here.

As much as orthodoxy is defined by scriptures, so are scriptures defined by orthodoxy. It appears that during the time that Christianity separated from Judaism around the middle of the first century, Jewish scriptures were divided into three sets: the Torah, the Prophets, and the Hagiographa. While the first two had been closed sets of scriptures for approximately 2 centuries, the third set was open for discussion.

The earliest estimate for closing this part is believed to be the meeting at Jamnia in 90 CE [James A Sanders, From Sacred Story to Sacred Text (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987): 12-13]. Sanders mentions that the whole issue was not completely settled until the second century, but that the areas of debate were very minimal:

And the fact that some scattered debate continued into the second century about the canonicity of Esther, Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, and even Proverbs and Ezekiel, should, in that perspective, properly viewed as minimal in the extreme [Sanders, 13].

Other scholars do not see this meeting as being as conclusive; they suggest a later date some time during the second or third century CE. Regardless of when the Jewish canon was settled, it is certain that Christianity does not begin with a definitive canon of scriptures. While the two religions appeal to the same set of texts, their interpretations of these texts as sacred scriptures can differ radically from each other. In both instances, it is orthodoxy that informs the decision-making process.

Early Christian theology focused on Jesus as the central point of faith and belief. Throughout the writings of the church fathers, it is clear that this is the litmus by which they read Jewish scriptures as their own Christian scriptures. It is important to perceive this difference between Jewish and Christian uses of the same text. An average Jew does not read, for example, the book of Jeremiah the same way a Christian does—and vice versa. For this reason, it will be better to think of the two as completely separate instead of one being a subset of the other.

By the Council of Carthage in 397, church fathers had accepted the Greek Septuagint as the text of their Old Testament; and it differed from the Jewish canon of scriptures. There was little dispute in the church prior to the Reformation on this. During the Reformation, protestants began to reject this difference and reduced the set of texts for their Old Testament to match the Jewish canon [Henri Blocher, “Helpful or Harmful?”, European Journal of Theology 13.2: 82].Throughout all of these decisions, it was the concept of orthodoxy that played the greatest role in determining which texts are truly sacred.

Scriptures have been defined primarily for the justification and creation of orthodoxy, but it has also been defined for the exclusion of other beliefs. As Henderson wrote,

André Suarès has argued that ‘Heresy is the lifeblood of religion. It is faith that made heretics.’ But it might be equally true to say that heretics have made faith, or at least the faith [John B. Henderson, The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy (Albany, NY: SUNY, 1998): 2].

Marcion, for instance, believed that the God of love Paul describes is so radically different from the Jewish God of creation that anything related to this Jewish God was completely worthless. His idea of orthodoxy led him to reject all forms of Jewish scripture and to suggest a canon consisting of Paul’s letters and a single gospel. While his canon most likely did not reflect what most Christians at this time read, church fathers began to react against Marcion’s canon and formulate a more accepted canon. Scholars agree that Marcion’s forming of a canon was the catalyst for Christianity to define a single canon.

The example of Shepherd of Hermas is more to the point. It was well accepted by the earliest fathers, much as Epistle of Barnabas, but it was rejected and then treated as heretical in the matter of three hundred years. It is clear that Shepherd could have been interpreted as presenting an adoptionist [Robert J. Hauck, “The great fast: Christology in the Shepherd of Hermas,” Anglican Theological Review 75.2 (Spring 1993): 197] Christology; this is probably the primary reason it was excluded from the canon and branded heretical: it did not fall in line explicitly enough with the emerging orthodoxy. It is through the debates in the first 400 years of Christianity that settle the issue of what texts are sacred and what beliefs are proper. It is here, through the question of what beliefs are acceptable that texts become scriptures.

Tradition & Orthodoxy - Part I

Author’s Note: This is part 1 of a 4-part series on tradition adapted from a paper I recently authored.

What is the process surrounding the development of texts into sacred scriptures, particularly in new religious movements? Additionally, what relation, if any, does this process have with the defining of orthodoxy? This series will examine these two movements as a re-imagining of what is nominally considered tradition, “the process of handing something on to another generation and that which is handed on” [Robert Murray, “Tradition and Sacred Texts,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 6:1 (Jan 2004): 4]

These two ideas—orthodoxy and scriptures—are codependent concepts that require the other for proper existence. Without a defined orthodoxy, it is nearly impossible to define a set of scriptures. Without a set of scriptures, there cannot be a strong definition of orthodoxy. These two movements interact with each other reciprocally: scriptures define orthodoxy while orthodoxy defines and interprets scriptures. In other words, it is a constant dialogue and interaction between theology and text that provides the context for present and future instances. All of orthodoxy and scripture is embedded in the context of the sum of its previous interactions and dialogues. This series will look at each of these, first from a theoretical perspective, followed by a few case examples. Tradition has the association that it has always been as such, but this article will show that this is only because the interactions between scriptures and orthodoxy force them to be reinterpreted as having always been the case.

Rightly Dividing
Christianity did not begin in a vacuum, nor with its theology fully formed at inception. Its orthodoxy was largely a process of refinement that is most visible in the many creeds that still stand today (e.g., the Nicene Creed). What we do know about the earliest groups of Christians is that they were, at times, wildly divergent with some believing Jesus to be purely divine without any kind of bodily form and others believing Jesus to be strictly human adopted by God later on [See Bart Ehrman, The New Testament (New York: Oxford, 2000) chapter 1 as well as Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus (New York: HarperOne, 2005) chapter 6].

Every one of these groups had in mind a particular set of texts as their sacred scriptures which provided the evidence they needed to define what they constructed as orthodoxy—proper belief. There is even enough evidence to suggest that “the proto-heretical, not the proto-orthodox, were in the majority at some points in the early Church” [John B. Henderson, The Construction of Orthodoxy and Heresy (Albany, NY: SUNY, 1998): 40]. For instance, Arianism at one time was so popular that Jerome remarked that “the world groaned and was amazed that it had become Arian” [Quoted in Henderson, 43-44].

Throughout these events, support was provided by appeal to what was considered sacred scriptures. When Pope Leo I declared the Roman tradition as orthodoxy and focused church authority to the papal office, his support was based on the succession of popes that began with Jesus’ instruction to Peter in the gospels[Henderson, 44], not to the primacy of the Roman See, the influential location of the Roman church, some divine vision, or the popularity of its beliefs in the emerging Christianity.

In the various councils that fought against what became heresies—or more precisely, heterodoxies—creeds were formulated by appeals to scriptures. By the time of these councils, much of Christianity had come to a mostly agreed-upon set of scriptures; only a handful of books were disputed at the fringes [Lee McDonald, The Formation of the Christian Biblical Canon (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995): 206 and Appendix 1.D]. Given an early date of acceptance of the NT canon to be Athanasius’s Easter Letter of 367 and a late date to be the Council of Carthage in 397, much of what is now orthodox belief in Christianity was not finalized until this time or later [The doctrine of the trinity was not fully formed until the second Ecumenical Council (at Constantinople) in 381. Most other issues were not settled until at least the mid-fifth century].

The ability to define orthodoxy requires both an accepted set of scriptures and a motivation to do such. During much of Christianity’s first century, there was not a motivation for creating orthodoxy—something that is for longevity of the religion—because the primary focus was the imminent second coming of Christ. What good is it to discuss and flesh out a set of beliefs that will probably not come to fruition before the end of time. This is similar to the reasoning scholarship believes there were few books in the beginning of Christianity. As just mentioned above, the majority of sacred scriptures were agreed upon relatively early compared to the formation of orthodoxy. The greatest driving force behind the consolidation of belief into orthodoxy came almost exclusively from the proto-orthodox predecessors. In other words, the proponents of what would become orthodoxy wanted to promote their beliefs as orthodox and exclude other beliefs, even if those other beliefs were more common. As John Henderson mentions,

Despite the discovery of some Gnostic heresiology in the Nag Hammadi materials, there remains a “curious scarcity of anti-orthodox polemics in the heretical literature. Although it seems that second-century heretical authors were far more prolific than their orthodox counterparts, they appear uninterested in refuting the orthodox position.” [Henderson, 27]

This is a major factor to consider when analyzing the development of orthodoxy. Too often, it is believed that the battle for orthodoxy was a constant fight between both parties, but it seems that orthodoxy was brought by brute force rather than discussion [Henderson, 46].

The creation of orthodoxy depends upon the existence of an accepted set of sacred scriptures, a canon. It is important that the texts are treated as religiously authoritative and not just edifying. This distinction can be seen most clearly in the acceptance of Epistle of Barnabas. It was originally accepted as canonical by fathers such as Eusebius and Clement of Alexandria, as well as being included in the earliest textual witnesses, including Codex Sinaiticus. Yet, later church fathers such as Athanasius and Rufinus removed it from their list of canonical books while still suggesting it as edifying for the church [McDonald, 271]. Through the use of scriptures, orthodoxy defines its core doctrines as well as those beliefs that are incompatible with them—heterodoxy.

Jesus’ Actions

The art of interpretation is one of the most interesting things for me to study. The way that ideas are changed and transformed over time confirms the idea that interpretations are not as stable and timeless as some claim them to be. In John Caputo’s latest book, What Would Jesus Deconstruct?, he outlines briefly one such transformation which I will elaborate here.

Everyone today knows the acronym WWJD–What Would Jesus Do?, but few know its roots. Today, it is generally used as a stick with which Christians beat others (and each other!). It is used as a tool for promoting one’s own ideology and means something radically different in Colorado Springs than in Seattle. It actually first surfaced as a subtitle to a book written in 1896 and was first used to advocate what became known as the Social Gospel movement (from which we get today’s Sojourner’s movement).

Yet here is the most interesting tidbit: WWJD was self-reflective. In other words, the object of the question was oneself not others. The book’s story centered around a man who had lost everything walking into a well-known church and (rather politely) asking the pastor this question before falling down dead. The rest of the book details the changes the people in the church undergo as they become more active in their world. During the first chapter in which this man asks these questions, nobody knows who he is. In some ways, he resembles the author’s idea of Jesus being a character living in the slums as he helps as many people as possible instead of being a “good Christian” attending church.

So now, what would Jesus do? I can only answer that for myself, not for others. Can you also stand in the accusative (grammatical case, not legal position) and answer this question?


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