Bernhard Lohse's History of Doctrine (1 of 3)

This three-part post consists of a few selected reflections on A Short History of Christian Doctrine: from the First Century to the Present by Bernhard Lohse, who, at the time of this Revised American Edition (1985, trans. by F. Ernest Stoeffler) was Professor of Church History and Historical Theology at Hamburg University in Germany.

The “ebb and flow” of theology, i.e. the law of undulation between opposite extremes, especially in the chapters on the doctrines of the Trinity and of Christology, produces a certain dizziness in the reader, as I knew by experience it would. A roller-coaster affects the head and stomach, be it theological or secular in nature.

In avoidance of further disorientation and of merely reproducing the minute details of the development of this or that dogma, in this paper I shall instead make a few more general observations – observations, which are not totally free of criticism. “Lohse’s Lutheran lenses”, so to speak, distorted my view.

What is dogma/doctrine?

The author opens the book with two splendid quotes, one from Jesus in Matthew’s gospel and another from Maximus the Confessor. Respectively, “Who do you say that I am?” and, “Keeping silent about dogma means denying dogma.” Jesus asked his disciples who they thought he was. Their answer to this is the seed of all further Christian confession, for they must confess over and over again, and this can be called the history of Christian dogma.

Partly in order to capture a broader conception of ‘dogma’, Lohse leaves out infallibility as an unnecessary (Roman Catholic) attribute. His guiding principle, which is restated throughout the book, is commendable: “If it is not a characteristic of dogma that each age is concerned not merely with adding yet another insight to those of the past but with apprehending anew the totality of the Christian faith, this is true also of the present age” (p. 238-9). “New dogma” is not simply “added”, but it influences the whole faith and requires anew a total commitment.

Unfortunately Lohse feels he needs to juxtapose this insight with the Roman Catholic position, or what he takes to be it: “If it is apparent anywhere it is apparent in the history of the Reformation that the affirmations of the Christian faith are not a depositum fidei [treasury of faith] entrusted to the church, but that in each new instance they demand a total commitment” (p. 158-9). And: “[T]he idea that something new is merely added to earlier confessions simply does not accord with the facts of history” (p. 16).

As a non-Catholic what concerns me here is that the Roman Catholic view seems misrepresented. In fact, what the author offers as the “better” understanding could easily serve as a precise description of a modern-day Roman Catholic theologian’s understanding of depositum fidei and the task of the Magisterium and the Holy Office:

“It is not enough, therefore, to insist upon the continuity of the history of dogma: it must also be emphasized that in every epoch the totality of the Christian confession again hangs in the balance. Progress in the history of dogma does not mean simply that the treasury of Christian insight grows; it means, rather, that in every new day and every new situation everything that was inherited must be won anew.” (p. 17.)

Interestingly, the author states in the very beginning of his preface to the Revised American Edition that “many changes have taken place … as regards my won attitude to certain aspects, particularly insofar as modern Roman Catholicism is concerned” (p. ix).

What, exactly, there aspects are and how, exactly, has his attitude changed is not elaborated on. Content-wise the new edition leaves the original unaltered; the anti-Catholic undercurrent (to which we return later) prevails. That the new edition includes “an account of the significance of the Second Vatican Council” (p. x) is a mild overstatement, as this “account” consists of a mere page and a half. The only unambiguous appraisal offered within it concerns the Council’s “remarkable opening toward the other churches” (p. 248).

Dogma vs. speculative theology?

The new preface does, however, include a most salutary principle that, I felt, Lohse held to faithfully throughout his study: “If it is true that the history of dogma is not to be equated with the history of theology, the time is not yet come to incorporate the latest theological developments into a history of dogma” (p. x).

Barth, Bultmann, Tillich, and many others are not credited with special attention, and no account whatsoever is given to movements such as the theology of the death of God, the theology of revolution, the theology of liberation, black theology, process theology, or feminist theology. From the point of view of a history of dogma the time is not ripe for an assessment of their significance, although church history or the history of theology may consider them integral.

The dividing criteria is founded upon the concept of dogma: “Dogma is more that this or that opinion of one or the other theologian; rather, dogma is what the church believes, teaches, and confesses on the basis of the Holy Scriptures and in dealing with specific contemporary problems” (p. ix). The author keeps well within these limits. I can attest in sync with Review and Expositor that his treatment is “distinguished for its clarity and selectivity” (back cover).

Interpretation vs. criticism of dogma?

The history of dogma is not to be equated with the history of theology. We may add, and the author does add, that “the history of dogma and the criticism of dogma should at least be methodologically separated; they must not fuse into one” (p. 18). “Not criticism, but interpretation of dogmas, is the task of the historian of dogma” (p. 19).

Up to the Reformation era the author succeeds remarkably well in light of this self-erected principle. Especially uplifting was his account of figures posthumously credited with the dubious title of “heretic”. They are not demonized: even the wisest can believe error, even dangerous error, and yet be driven by authentic pastoral concern, for instance, in the case of Origen (p. 45-8) or Pelagius (p. 106-110). But as we approach the beginnings of Lutheranism, “the cleansing of the gospel”, a change in tone can be detected.

The new tone, upon careful listening, betrays two opposite cords: a satisfied one and a dissatisfied one. The former is attached to the person of Luther and the latter to Roman Catholicism in general and the Council of Trent and recent mariological developments in particular. Unsurprisingly these two opposite cords do not produce, in the ears of the listener, a satisfactory melody, but a rather dissatisfactory noise. I had to struggle to remain sympathetic toward the composer.

Part 2 of 3 here.