Superstition: Catholic and Evangelical
March 25, 2011
Some time ago on Reformation 21 I recounted certain events from my visit to Italy: the awesome beauty of Rome; the flight to Padua with a delightful Maronite priest; and the scene at the Basilica of Saint Anthony, with dozens of old ladies lining up to kiss the tomb of the dead saint and to pay homage to his pickled jawbone, vocal chords and tongue. I made the point regarding the latter that it was something of a contrast to the exalted beauty of Michelangelo's art work or the rarefied intellectualism of the Gregorian University and represented (to a Protestant mind) a weird form of superstitious fetishism.
I did read some of the Catholic responses to the piece but, while respectful of the intelligence and conviction of those who wrote to me on the matter, I remain unconvinced that what I witnessed in the basilica has any real connection to biblical Christianity. It is disturbing to me that Rome not only tolerates but actually encourages such things.
What I do now believe, however, is that evangelicalism has its own set of fetishes which are also superstitious and just as potentially harmful. Evangelicals too imbue objects with a power which they do not possess. Celebrity conference speakers would be one such category. Few conference speakers are actually any better than many unknown men who faithfully fill pulpits in unknown churches week by week; but the evangelical culture ascribes to them great power. That is why people pay to go and hear them and would often rather talk about hearing them than about the unknown local man who faithfully ministers to them every Sunday. Aesthetics is another. Some evangelicals seem to think that there is a peculiarly sanctifying, protective power involved in dressing their daughters in denim pinnies and their sons in plaid shirts; or, on the other side of the evangelical world, wearing black, having rather short haircuts and engaging in acts of body piercing.
There is another type of such fetishism: badly written books full of hackneyed garbage. These come in two forms: the book that the author has written before but keeps re-writing, re-packaging, and re-selling. One thinks of those writers who have written seemingly mountains of books on some specific doctrine, or some practical topic, such as bringing up kids, but who just keep saying the same thing in slightly different ways. Why is there a market for what are essentially repeats (as we say in the UK) or `encore performances' (as is the American euphemism)? Because evangelicals imbue the latest book by the latest guru with power, even if it says exactly the same as has been said before a thousand times. That's why big money can be made by saying the same thing over and over again. Whether that is a legitimate Christian calling is quite another matter.
It also applies to books which promote error via bad writing and poor argumentation. If Catholicism has its tomb of Saint Anthony, evangelicals have their potboiler authors who rehash old errors and heresies. Their followers always grab hold of such as if such books are vital and innovative contributions; their opponents always respond as if some Da Vinci Code style of book is going to render Matt. 16:18 invalid. But potboilers are potboilers; they possess no power of their own; only that which the audience chooses to ascribe to them. Badly written and badly argued books are drivel, whether they make the case for truth or error, and they need to be dismissed as such, not treated as major or significant contributions to church life.
I am sure some people have been healed by touching the Tomb of Saint Anthony. The power of suggestion can be quite effective when connected to such a fetish. The danger of hysteria, pro and con, surrounding a piece of literary and theological junk, is that it might actually bring about the desired/feared influence, not because of intrinsic qualities of argument or writing but because of fetishism.
And, if I still considered myself an evangelical in the typical sense of the term, I would be embarrassed for evangelicalism at this time: it has its ridiculous fetishes, just as surely as Rome does; but, sadly, it has no Michelangelo to compensate for them. If you don't count Thomas Kinkade, that is.
I did read some of the Catholic responses to the piece but, while respectful of the intelligence and conviction of those who wrote to me on the matter, I remain unconvinced that what I witnessed in the basilica has any real connection to biblical Christianity. It is disturbing to me that Rome not only tolerates but actually encourages such things.
What I do now believe, however, is that evangelicalism has its own set of fetishes which are also superstitious and just as potentially harmful. Evangelicals too imbue objects with a power which they do not possess. Celebrity conference speakers would be one such category. Few conference speakers are actually any better than many unknown men who faithfully fill pulpits in unknown churches week by week; but the evangelical culture ascribes to them great power. That is why people pay to go and hear them and would often rather talk about hearing them than about the unknown local man who faithfully ministers to them every Sunday. Aesthetics is another. Some evangelicals seem to think that there is a peculiarly sanctifying, protective power involved in dressing their daughters in denim pinnies and their sons in plaid shirts; or, on the other side of the evangelical world, wearing black, having rather short haircuts and engaging in acts of body piercing.
There is another type of such fetishism: badly written books full of hackneyed garbage. These come in two forms: the book that the author has written before but keeps re-writing, re-packaging, and re-selling. One thinks of those writers who have written seemingly mountains of books on some specific doctrine, or some practical topic, such as bringing up kids, but who just keep saying the same thing in slightly different ways. Why is there a market for what are essentially repeats (as we say in the UK) or `encore performances' (as is the American euphemism)? Because evangelicals imbue the latest book by the latest guru with power, even if it says exactly the same as has been said before a thousand times. That's why big money can be made by saying the same thing over and over again. Whether that is a legitimate Christian calling is quite another matter.
It also applies to books which promote error via bad writing and poor argumentation. If Catholicism has its tomb of Saint Anthony, evangelicals have their potboiler authors who rehash old errors and heresies. Their followers always grab hold of such as if such books are vital and innovative contributions; their opponents always respond as if some Da Vinci Code style of book is going to render Matt. 16:18 invalid. But potboilers are potboilers; they possess no power of their own; only that which the audience chooses to ascribe to them. Badly written and badly argued books are drivel, whether they make the case for truth or error, and they need to be dismissed as such, not treated as major or significant contributions to church life.
I am sure some people have been healed by touching the Tomb of Saint Anthony. The power of suggestion can be quite effective when connected to such a fetish. The danger of hysteria, pro and con, surrounding a piece of literary and theological junk, is that it might actually bring about the desired/feared influence, not because of intrinsic qualities of argument or writing but because of fetishism.
And, if I still considered myself an evangelical in the typical sense of the term, I would be embarrassed for evangelicalism at this time: it has its ridiculous fetishes, just as surely as Rome does; but, sadly, it has no Michelangelo to compensate for them. If you don't count Thomas Kinkade, that is.
