Friday, October 9, 2020

Unscriptural Traditions?: Thoughts on Basil and Rule of Faith

In Basil the Great's letter to Amphilochius (also known as his treaty "On the Holy Spirit"), the infamous passage of "unwritten traditions" is located. In its immediate context, Basil argues from agraphos, the unwritten or possibly "unscriptural" (as Stephen Hildebrand translates it; not anti-scriptural, but not derived from scripture), to argue for the consubstantial divinity of the Holy Spirit (meaning, He is equal with Father and Son). I want to look at this passage and ask some questions. Basil begins thusly:
Of the dogmas and proclamations that are guarded in the Church, we hold some from the teaching of the Scriptures, and others we have received in mystery as the teachings of the tradition of the apostles. Both hold the same power with respect to true religion. No one would deny these points, at least no one who has even a little experience of ecclesiastical institutions. For if we attempt to reject non-scriptural [agraphos] customs as insignificant, we would, unaware, lose the very vital parts of the Gospel, and even more, we would establish the proclamation merely in name. (section 27)
So far that seems clear enough. Basil is arguing for an unwritten, or at least non-scriptural, tradition from the apostles to validate the faith. And I think Hildebrand is onto something by translating agraphos as non-scriptural because Basil is not referring to an unwritten oral tradition, but traditional liturgical practices within the churches. While he emphasizes silence, its specifically silence of the scripture juxtaposed against various ritual actions. Basil lists these practices that fall under the "non-scriptural" traditions (e.g. sign of the cross, triple immersion in baptism, epiclesis, praying eastwards, etc.). However, at one point, Basil goes on to justify the reason for these traditions:
This is the reason for non-scriptural traditions, that knowledge of dogmas not be neglected or despised by the many because of familiarity. For doctrine is one thing, and proclamation is another. One is kept in silence, but proclamations are made public. Now, obscurity is a form of silence used in Scripture, which makes the meaning of dogmas difficult to see for the benefit of the readers. Because of this we all look to the East for prayers, but few of us know that our ancient fatherland, the paradise that God planted in Eden, was in the East. We say our prayers standing on the first day of the week, but not all know the reason why. By standing for prayer we remind ourselves of the grace given to us on the day of the resurrection, as if we are rising to stand with Christ and being bound to seek what is above.
Basil goes on to explain additional significance to worshiping on Sunday, and why standing is a necessary tradition. Finally, summing up his points to his would-be interlocutors, who reject the Holy Spirit's divinity due to an appeal to scripture, Basil says:
by what Scriptures do we hold the very confession of faith in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit? If from the tradition of baptism we make a confession similar to baptism (according to the logic of piety, as we baptize, so we ought to believe), then let them grant to us from this same logic to give glory in a way similar to our confession. But if we reject this way of giving glory as non-scriptural, let them give to us the scriptural proof of the confession of faith and the other points that we listed.

What's interesting here and above is how Basil makes his argument. He's not saying, like Irenaeus' Valentinian opponents, that he has access to a secret, esoteric, tradition from the apostles in contrast to what has been written. It's possible to see that in how Basil mentions silence, but that's not feasible if one takes the whole section in view. Basil's argument seems to revolve on a distinction between clarity from scripture and a set of practices (presumably derived from the apostles) that then informs one about a broader significance of the dogmas in scripture. In other words, the non-scriptural tradition is what is not explicitly stated in scripture, yet scriptural concepts are testified through these traditions. The scriptures provide clear things and unclear things. The former are accessible enough, and make up the content of what is preached (presumably something like "believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved"). The latter are cloaked in mystery and silence, not for its own sake but to drive the worshiper to realize one is participating in God's work, to not treat it as a trifle. But these mysteries are not things alien to scripture, but hidden within it, only visible and explicated by Apostles and their successors.

In a lot of ways, this account draws to mind Irenaeus and Tertullian's discussion of the rule of faith. There's an extra-scriptural witness, found in something like a baptismal formula, which is the faith, even if that formula is not itself something in scripture. Hence Basil's comment that without the tradition, the faith becomes nominal. It's not simply enough to find the passage of scripture that says to baptize in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (or baptizing in the name of Jesus) because it's not clear what that exactly means. Of course, one would naturally explicate a thicker description, elaborating the content of faith. But that seems to be Basil's point about apostolic tradition. It's not enough to cite words (Basil argues in previous sections about people who logic-chop, making the use of 'in' or 'with' as signifying ontological status of Christ). It's what those words mean, and the meaning of these words are derived from the practices of the churches, given to them by the Apostles. After citing various fathers who taught divinity of Holy Spirit, he cites Origen who did not "have perfectly sound notions in all respects about the Spirit", yet still recognized the divinity of the Spirit. Basil concludes, "Thus, I think, the strength of tradition often leads men to contradict their own teachings." Origen was a good enough churchman to be "constrained by the force of custom and put forth orthodox words about the Spirit."

The takeaway, I think, is rather difficult. Basil's use of tradition appeals most explicitly to the Apostles to justify things like standing during worship on Sundays, renunciation of Satan in baptism, triple immersion, the sign of the cross, etc. All of these things can be derived from a context of truth given in scripture, though none not explicitly stated. That's the distinction, I think, between scriptural and a-scriptural tradition. And he's of course correct that it's not enough to baldly quote words of scripture to emphasize ambiguity, from which new doctrines are developed. It's this "logic-chopping that advocates for homosexual marriage within scripture use: they develop lexical ambiguity around the words malakoi and arsenokoitai, into which new meanings are created. Instead of all homosexual sex being condemned, st. Paul is only condemning nonconsensual or pederastic partnerships. Basil scoffs at these people: "we say that the freedom of the Spirit is in noway enslaved to the trivialities of the Pagans. Rather, it changes its expressions to suit its needs for the moment." The context here is a fixation on the phrase "from whom", which for Aetius (a neo-Arian) meant Christ was not God. The truth of faith could not be scrambled through lexical games. The traditions help keep Christians from falling into these traps.

Of course, the Apostle Paul's emphasis on the Abrahamic promise of "seed", not "seeds", might run afoul of Basil's dismissal of such word parsing. However, Paul and other Apostles do not seem to rely on a single textual manuscript to establish their point (quotations of the OT range from Septuagint to Masoretic to missing manuscripts). Basil's approach eschews this search for an "original" (and thus sacred) textual manuscript because scripture's truth is preserved in the very day-in and day-out worship of the churches. Possessing the deposit of the Apostles, in scripture and its Christological hermeneutic, the church will survive and thrive, despite misunderstanding or idiosyncrasies of particular geniuses (Basil was an admirer of Origen's work). Basil claims a continuity that then is accessible, even if its meaning isn't always clearly available. The faith remains the same, even if we are given the freedom to adjust our words to more properly articulate it. But we should be careful, and prefer silence, lest we lead others into error or throw the churches into schism.

In a way, I can't see  how Basil's conclusions aren't inevitable. One must draw upon creedal symbols and practices (derived from within the life of the Church, not invented in the academy) handed down to ground one's theology. Tradition (in the actual sense of the word) seems a safeguard to prevent sliding into foolish debates and speculations about the law, endless genealogies, and myths (c.f. 1 Tim, 2 Tim, Titus). But then, is Basil's account consonant with history? Is his Cappadocian church simply the handed-down reality of the Apostles, or did things change? How much freedom with words is possible? I'm sure Basil would've found the splits in Orthodoxy between the Old and New Calendarists, and the number of fingers used in crossing oneself that split the Russian church in the 18th century, to be obscene (of course, there was more to these blowups than simple liturgical changes). But where do you draw the line? How does one know which practices are apostolic and which are not? How much change makes it something else altogether? Basil was not unaware about the use of art in churches, though he seems to have tolerated it, rather than endorse it. Basil was likely exercising pastoral "economy", allowing imperfect things for the salvation of souls. But what if these changes damage the faith? What to do?

 I think it's a sound conclusion that Basil would've found the whole papal church on the eve of the Reformation totally alien to him, and would've scoffed at claims of unchanged non-scriptural apostolic tradition. But then, I would reckon most (if not all) churches would appear somewhat alien to him. Now, Basil does not simply allow churches the freedom to pillage the scripture and construct a variety of practices, all under the auspices that they are from scripture, even if not explicitly stated. Basil believed the churches would continue to hand down traditions that help make the hidden dogmas of scripture known through practice. If such a chain is broken, then the result is anarchy and self-deception. Perhaps, Basil would find the early Reformers as kindred spirits: unwilling to remove all vestiges of medieval liturgy, but reformatting them to draw out truths of scripture.

I think Basil's approach, defending the value of tradition (if not an esoteric Tradition), though we need to blow through some of the cobwebs. Basil wrote within the oikumene of Rome, where the idea of a single unified institutionalized church was a norm. Additionally, Basil participated in developing the liturgy towards the theopompic theurgy that will mark out Byzantine orthodoxy in later centuries (he was, after all, a student of Origen). We should not take Basil's remarks uncritically when one gets a larger (extra-Roman) perspective on the church. One should especially not be blind to history or be too eager to believe any just-so story of unchanging ritual.

Irenaeus, in contrast, opens up a better vantage. Writing to the bishop of Rome, amid a controversy about the date of Easter, Irenaeus councils peaceableness among diverse practices. Eusebius records this instance in the following:

"Irenaeus, writing in the name of the Christians whose leader he was in Gaul, though he recommends that the mystery of the Lord's resurrection be observed only on the Lord's day, yet nevertheless exhorts Victor suitably and at length not to excommunicate whole churches of God for following a tradition of ancient custom, and continues as follows: 'For the controversy is not only about the day, but also about the actual character of the fast; for some who think that they ought to fast one day, others two, others even more, some count their day as forty hours, day and night.[1] And such variation of observance did not begin in our own time,[2] but much earlier, in the days of our predecessors who, it would appear, disregarding strictness maintained a practice which is simple and yet allows for personal preference, establishing it for the future, and none the less all these lived in peace, and we also live in peace with one another and the disagreement in the fast confirms our agreement in the faith.' "

Eusebius, perhaps cunningly, draws Irenaeus over to the faction which set Easter according to the nearest sunday around the vernal equinox (the position decided at Nicaea). Nevertheless, Irenaeus' argument is clear. Various practices emerged at different times, going as far back to the very Apostles, who counseled flexibility on forms for piety's sake. And yet the differences confirm their joint faith. The focus was that all worshiped the same risen Lord, celebrating His passion and glorious triumph over death. Diverse traditions confirmed this single truth.

This approach, which allows pluriformity unified through singular dogmatic commitment, is perhaps the most historically honest and reasonable for the contemporary moment. Tradition remains important, but of a subsidiary authority. A subsidiary authority, derived from scripture, is granted to reception history, which helps us through ambiguities. I think this interpretation is the best way to understand Basil's point above.

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