Luther’s game of Jenga.
The Reformation and simplified ecclesiology.
As the Medieval Ages slowly gave way to the Renaissance Period, all of Europe was soon swept up in far more than merely artistic innovation. With a swing of a hammer, a series of theological tectonic shifts surged across the continent, forever altering the ecclesiological landscape in the process. Although it is, perhaps, somewhat historically parochial to equate Martin Luther’s posting of his Ninety-Five Theses in 1517 as the genesis of the Protestant Reformation, Luther’s proposals served to dislodge the first block in the Jenga tower of Roman Catholic ascendancy. As the decades wore on, more blocks would be displaced as theologians all over Europe reckoned with the transformative message of a rediscovered gospel that centered on the sovereign and salvific work of Jesus Christ for his church. Consequently, along with the soteriological contention came ecclesiological tension as the reformers sought to resolve the question of who truly belonged to the church of God.
In so doing, the liturgical interference of Roman tradition was stripped of its precedence as the theological prerogative was principally returned to Scripture. Reformers such as Luther, Zwingli, Bullinger, Calvin, and Bucer endeavored to retrieve the essence of the Christian faith by looking beyond the haunches of papal authority. “Their reforms,” writes Jason G. Duesing, “were driven by doctrinal change and motived by a simplicity that pulled back layers of Roman complexity, especially in terms of the definition and practice of the church” (231). Insofar as one was tethered to a parish church that preached Scripture, observed the Eucharist, upheld the sanctity of baptisms, and practiced church discipline, one could be sure they belonged to a true church. These characteristics became known as the notae ecclesiae, or the marks of the church, which allowed individual believers and theologians to test a church’s catholicity and apostolicity. Notably absent from the reformers’ matrix of orthodoxy was the glut of tradition and the bottleneck of papal authority that had precipitated the bloated ecclesiological institution of the Roman Catholic Church.
The endeavor of the reformers to return to a simplified ecclesiology remains applicable to the church of today, whose trappings and accouterment have become increasingly complex. While the structures and traditions of the modern church might not be as grandiose as the cathedrals and Masses of post-Medieval churches, they are nonetheless embellished with a rigid liturgy of relevance and success. The needs of the hour are, therefore, homogeneous with the needs that prompted the Reformation in the first place. “In our own day,” Duesing concludes, “church reform needs to continue, not only for the quest of seeking to follow the Scriptures but also to ensure there remain future visible communions of saints who will treasure and proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ until he returns” (245). As the wars over cultural decadence, partisan politics, and attention spans continue to rage with ever-increasing volatility, the true church of God, as defined by its adherence to God’s Word and the sacraments of baptism and communion, stands as a bastion of divine wisdom and grace in an age where both are scarce.
Works cited:
Jason G. Duesing, “The Church,” Historical Theology for the Church, edited by Jason G. Duesing and Nathan A. Finn (Nashville, TN: B&H Academic, 2021).