The Future of Heresy

“Morality, like art, means drawing a line somewhere” (Oscar Wilde). This book has explored the idea of heresy within the Christian tradition, trying to understand at least something of its nature and origins—about how theological lines had to be drawn, and came to be drawn, between the realms of orthodoxy and heresy. It does not set out to offer any new insights into individual heresies, but tries to distill and collate a significant body of academic research into the phenomenon of heresy, using certain heresies as case studies to illustrate points of importance. And while this exploration is undoubtedly of academic interest, its real significance lies in its implications for the life of the church. In bringing this book to a close, we therefore turn away from the great scholarly questions of the nature and origins of heresy, to consider, however briefly, its contemporary significance for Christian communities.

Some have suggested that heresy is essentially an outmoded idea, with little or no relevance to modern church life.¹ Even a casual reading of recent writings on the early church indicates that there has been a persistent intensifying of skeptical presumptions concerning the contemporary legitimacy and utility of the notion of heresy. It is widely held that it reflects the concerns and agendas of long-bygone eras in the history of the church, and can safely be discarded. However, the analysis offered in this work indicates that this is simply not correct, primarily for two reasons.

First, the pursuit of orthodoxy is essentially the quest for Christian authenticity. The relentless attempt to find the best formulations of Christian truth claims reflects the insight that Christianity is capable of stating and understanding its ideas inadequately and inauthentically. In a fiercely competitive religious and cultural context, Christianity’s future existence and prosperity will depend upon its presenting itself in its most authentic forms.² To put it somewhat bluntly and pragmatically, defective and damaging forms of the Christian faith—in other words, heresies—will limit its survival prospects. The quest for orthodoxy is above all a search for authenticity.

Secondly, heresies, like history, have a habit of repeating themselves. The historian may treat Gnosticism as a complex intellectual and cultural movement of late classical antiquity, raising some interesting questions for academic historians yet perhaps not for anyone else. However, those who are concerned about the relationship of Christianity and modern culture see a somewhat different picture. Gnosticism lives on today, not necessarily knowing its real name or even its history.³ Yet its spoor is unmistakable. Its echo is heard today in those who interpret Christianity as a religion of self-discovery, not redemption. Religion is the quest for true inner identity, the “real me,” the inner spark of divine life, or the gold in the mud. The challenge faced by the churches is whether they can counter such cultural stereotypes rather than inadvertently reinforcing them.

The new interest in heresy so characteristic of the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries goes far beyond the renewal of scholarly interest in a neglected or misunderstood phenomenon of the past. Indeed, some have suggested that modern scholarship in this area is not simply “enamored” of ancient heresies but practices “historical advocacy” at the expense of “even-handed” history.⁴ There is no doubt, for example, that many recent scholars have advocated Gnosticism as a congenial alternative to what they regard as the failings and vices of traditional Christianity. Elaine Pagels, for example, clearly regards Gnosticism (or at least certain forms of it) as more egalitarian than Christian orthodoxy. As we have seen, this is a highly problematic reading of the situation. Yet while such stereotypes can be challenged by historical scholarship, the underlying perception persists. Indeed, for many the perception has become the reality. It needs to be challenged and corrected.

The lure of the religious forbidden can be accounted for, at least to some extent, on social psychological grounds.⁵ However, its appeal is not due simply to the psychology of proscribed forms of social cognition; it reflects a disturbing perception within Western culture that Christian orthodoxy is dull and damaging, which encourages the rise of the counterperception that heresy is intellectually exciting and spiritually liberating. This perception can be discerned within the so-called Victorian crisis of faith⁶ and remains a potent threat to the popular appeal of orthodoxy to this day. As one English commentator on the “Death of God” debate of the 1960s pointed out: “While most of the philosophy and theology contained in the ‘Death of God’ literature seems to be very second-rate or worse, it is very necessary to reflect on how absolutely deadly must have been the experience which the writers of this literature must have had, both in the worshipping and in the theological lives of their churches.”⁷ Was it so surprising that people concluded that God was dead when the supposed communities of his habitation were so dreary and uninteresting?

Yet the real challenge faced by the churches cannot be neutralized by the demonstration that theological orthodoxy is both necessary and appropriate for the well-being of Christian communities.⁸ Can orthodoxy once more be sprinkled with stardust? If Christianity is to regain the imaginative ascendancy, it must rediscover what G. K. Chesterton (1874–1936) termed “the romance of orthodoxy.”⁹ It is not sufficient to show that orthodoxy represents the most intellectually and spiritually authentic form of the Christian faith or that it has been tried and tested against its intellectual alternatives. The problem lies deeper, at the level of the imagination and feelings. If Christ is indeed the “Lord of the Imagination,”¹⁰ the distinction between orthodoxy and heresy ought to have significant imaginative implications. The real challenge is for the churches to demonstrate that orthodoxy is imaginatively compelling, emotionally engaging, aesthetically enhancing, and personally liberating. We await this development with eager anticipation.

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