What Is Truth?

This is a reprint from the online Journal The Shire, written on St. Bartholomew's Day, August 24, 2000.

Pilate's rhetorical question was left unanswered by the Evangelist, no doubt as an intentional device on the part of the latter to elicit musing on the question. Christ is Truth, as He said, I am the Truth. There must be a qualitative difference, then, between the revelation of God in the Gospel, and every other written or spoken word. What is it? No one has seen God at any time . The only begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, He has declared Him. What does this mean?

Questions of this nature arise when we consider the various legends associated with martyrs. Martyrologies are generally held to be a mixture of fact and fiction. Who can say whether it is all in the realm of actual historical reality that St. Bartholomew stalwartly maintained his confession while being clubbed by pagan priests, flayed alive, and crucified upside down? Or whether St. Laurence truly mocked his tormenters during his roasting on a gridiron? Or that the flames of the pyre surrounding St. Polycarp refused to touch him, whereupon he was thrust in the side, and blood and water issued forth which quenched the flames? Historians like to pick at such stories and reckon that there is some fantasy there. Yet they must also acknowledge that there is some basis in fact. What is truth?

St. Anselm of Canterbury was said to have made the sign of the cross on a burning building and doused the flame thereby. Some historians have considered this a reference to his success in obtaining peace with the King of England over the question of investiture, after a protracted struggle between the crown and the Church. The reference to the struggle, to Anselm's exiles, and to the resulting peace, is thus all made enigmatically through the depiction of the archbishop's sign of the cross on the flame. Did he actually douse a flame on a true church he was passing by making the sign on it? Probably not. Is this not only, then, a figurative means of expression? What is truth?

Now we consider the Gospels. They too contain many wondrous accounts. Jesus walks on water. Jesus feeds a multitude with a few loaves. Jesus heals the blind. Jesus rises from the dead. One can begin to see where certain scholars have questioned the veracity of these events as well. What if they, too, are embellishments? What if Jesus= stroll on the lake merely indicates His authority over Baptism? What if His multiplication of loaves merely points to His sacramental feeding of all nations? What is truth?

The answer to these questions must be found in the Gospels themselves. It is upon hearing them, reading, marking, and inwardly digesting them, that one finds in them a genre like unto itself, one which is unquestionably meant to be completely historical while at the same time being figurative, instructive, and catechetical. St. John insists, for example, that he truly saw blood and water issue forth from Jesus' side: "He who has seen has testified, and his testimony is true; and he knows that he is telling the truth, so that you may believe." Yet this insistence gives the very clear impression that he wishes the hearer to ponder the catechetical meaning latent in the event: The Blood of the Holy Supper and the water of Holy Baptism issue forth from Christ. Indeed it is only St. John who records that rhetorical question of Pilate, What is truth? (St. John 18.38)

Thus we find that in the Gospels there is a unique blending of history and instruction. Maybe the difference between the Gospels and various martyrologies is that inasmuch as the latter do not provide the foundations of faith, and are not in themselves words of God, they have over the years become freer to depart from the historical facts. Not as much depends on them, certainly, and thus their use as catechetical tools begins to outweigh the necessity that they be entirely accurate as to their historicity. This is not the case, however, with the Gospels, which themselves make this very point. It is especially St. John who insists: "This is the disciple who testifies of these things, and wrote these things; and we know that his testimony is true. And there are also many other things that Jesus did . . ." (St. John 21.24-25). We simply do not find this kind of testifying in martyrologies.

The critical scholars' mischievous questions about the veracity of the events of the Gospels do nothing but tend toward shipwreck of the faith, and they must therefore be firmly answered. Of course Jesus actually walked on the water; of course He fed the five thousand; of course He gave sight to the blind, etc. And of course He truly rose from the dead. But that is not all! These events have been turned by the providence of Almighty God into catechetical tools, given meaning by the Gospel, to provide real-life illustrations of what He wishes us to know. Yes indeed, His walk on the sea illustrates his authority in Baptism; surely He feeds multitudes today, in the Holy Supper; and in the Gospel He gives faith, that is, sight to the spiritually blind. And His resurrection not only signifies, but actually provides living evidence to the faithful that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

What is truth? Truth is history and catechesis divinely wrapped into one magnificent Word of God: Christ for us.

Why Know Law from Gospel?

Reprinted from The Shire, 26 June 1999

At the risk of being charged with capitulating to the excesses of a parochial mentality, I must confess to my partiality for a particularly Lutheran theme, viz., the proper distinction between the law and the Gospel. Although, to be sure, this distinction certainly shows up in other places from time to time, it is pretty safe to say that the distinction between law and Gospel is an especially heavy Lutheran theme, and always has been; a hallmark of traditional Lutheranism. So call me parochial, or peculiarly Lutheran, or even Waltherian, if you wish; nonetheless I confess: I do believe that the proper distinction between law and Gospel is always a necessary and proper one to make; I will even venture to say that this distinction is always on or very near to the cutting edge of all theological debate.

I take this risk because, first, I am convinced that this distinction is actually quite catholic, and secondly, I am also not very convinced that this distinction is as clearly understood as it needs to be among us, from the parish level right on up to the seminaries. I am not a parish visitor (do such creatures still exist?), but I have heard and witnessed enough in some of the places I have been of late to lead me to make my concern public.

Martin Luther once said that if anyone can consistently distinguish law from Gospel he should be given a doctorate in theology, which indicates both that he thought the discernment did not come as easily as might be supposed, and that the discernment is critical for someone who desires to be a Christian theologian. C. F. W. Walther, the first president of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, is known among other things for his book whose theme is this very thing: The Proper Distinction between Law and Gospel. It's also a key ingredient in our Lutheran hymns. It's really a benchmark theme among Lutherans.

But why? So it's just a Lutheran theme! What difference does that really make? And if other traditions don't follow that theme, is it really such a bad thing? After all, Luther didn't write the Bible! How do we defend our insistence on knowing the proper distinction between the law and the Gospel?

First of all, because it is a Biblical and therefore catholic distinction. St. Paul enjoins Timothy the pastor: "Study to show yourself approved to God, a workman that does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth" (2 Tim. 2.15). Again, he says in Romans, on the one hand, "I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ; for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believes" (1.17), but on the other hand, "by the law is the knowledge of sin" (3.20) and "a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the law" (3.28). To illustrate this truth, we will do well to refer to the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit came and sat on each of the apostles' heads appearing as "divided tongues, like as of fire" (Acts 2.3). Jesus warned his disciples, "Unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and the Pharisees, you shall in no case enter the kingdom of heaven" (St. Matthew 5.20), and again, "Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness" (6.33). In short, the distinction between law and Gospel comes from Christ Himself. It is a hallmark of our faith because it is central to understanding the Gospel.

For what happens if we fail to make this distinction? This is evidently just what the church at Galatia was doing, when St. Paul chided them, saying , "O foolish Galatians, who has bewitched you, that you should not obey the truth, before whose eyes Jesus Christ has been evidently set forth, crucified among you?" (Gal. 3.2) If we fail rightly to distinguish law from Gospel, then we become easy prey for the wiles of the devil who disguises himself as an angel of light. That is, the false preacher enters in, giving us the corrupt notion that by doing this or that deed we become righteous and gain the favor of God. In short, Jesus Christ (and Him crucified) is snatched away, and we are robbed of our Hope.

When the law masquerades as the Gospel, then works masquerade as faith, my personal conduct masquerades as holiness, "living the Christian faith" masquerades as Christ's own life, and death masquerades as life. For my deeds and conduct, however holy I may become convinced that they are, are always in truth unprofitable to me. Even though I may say that because of the Holy Spirit I do good works (which is certainly true), yet I dare never say that these good works which I do are the essence of my life in Christ. For, as St. Paul declares, "The life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for me. I do not frustrate the grace of God; for if righteousness come by the law, then Christ died in vain" (Gal. 2.20-21). Therefore what shall happen if I turn this around, and say that the life I live in the flesh I live by works?

O God! Save us from such a life! For if I must live my life in the flesh by my works, then it truly shall result in nothing but my death, for my works are full of sin! Yes, even as Christians, our works are full of sin.

What if I fail to see the great chasm between law and Gospel, then? Then, when I hear that the gospel is the power of God unto salvation (Rom. 1.17), I will trot away thinking that I have some work to do to be saved, for I hear "love God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself" (which is law, but which I will think to be Gospel), and I will think, Anow I must do so, for this is the power of God unto my salvation. And then what? Then one of two things will happen: either I will learn well how to delude myself into thinking that I am indeed sufficiently loving God and my neighbor, and I will become a great Pharisee and hypocrite who has no need whatever for Christ as savior, or else I will be driven to despair, convinced (as I must be if I am honest with myself) that I will never be able to attain the life I need, and all is lost.

Rather, let us find our righteousness, life, and salvation in Christ alone, and in His holy wounds. And let us live by faith in Him, so that whatever we do in this life, we do not as though we needed thereby to gain anything from God; rather, let us do all joyfully, being already firm in the knowledge that all good things have been gained for us through our precious Lamb of God. See, my life is lived in Him from start to finish (for He is the Author and Finisher of our faith), and my confidence rests not in myself but in Him; not in my life but in His; not in my deeds but in His; and not in the law but in the Gospel.