Introduction
Introduction
When Saint Bruno in his younger years was studying in Paris, the city was caught up in a sea of mourning. A renowned monastic scholar, much admired for his holy life, had died. But as the funeral cortege proceeded to the tomb, the dead scholar rose out of the coffin and cried out, “By God’s righteous judgment, I am accursed.” Utterly astounded, the officiating clerics delay the funeral until the following day. But the same shocking episode occurs again, and still again the day after. So terrified — and convicted of sin — is Bruno that he goes straightaway into the desert to meditate and soon thereafter, in 1084, he founds the Carthusians, a cloistered order of monks and nuns. On September 14, 1224, while praying on the mountain of Verna, Saint Francis receives the stigmata — the very wounds of the crucified Christ. On July 2, 1505, Martin Luther, having been struck down by lightning, promises Saint Anne that he will become a monk. Some two centuries later, American evangelist William Tennent awakens in the night realizing the toes on one foot are missing—snatched by the Devil.
The history of Christianity is a fascinating narrative, roiling with legends and lies, facts and figures, daring feats and disputations. Wild and well-nigh impenetrable, it snares the unsuspecting reader by its captivating content. Indeed, having once started down the rabbit trail of church history, it turns into an exhilarating hunt. That is why studying the subject is not only a serious enterprise but also entertaining — and addictive.
A metaphor for church history is a journey, a pilgrimage, or perhaps a parade — a parade that begins as the Messiah marches out of the pages of the Old Testament. The parade meanders through Palestine and reaches a pinnacle with the triumphal entry into Old Jerusalem, only to be followed by a charade: trial and execution. The parade will end one day in New Jerusalem when, from every tongue and tribe and nation, the saints go marching in. But in the millennia before that glorious new day, the parade of Christian history marches on with colorful fanfare, complete with clowns and garish floats and the steady beating of the bass drum.
How does a historian even begin to narrate this strange and sometimes shocking story to readers? For me it would be natural to offer the drama in the very chaotic jumble in which it presents itself. But I have found that my students desire structure and organization. So what I seek to offer here is the delightfully messy disarray of our Christian heritage in a free and easy style but with a highly organized structure. The book has 24 chapters in two parts of 12 chapters each. Eash chapter contains all the same components, including an opening page of personal remarks, a parade-of-history sidebar, and everyday-life section, a What if segment serving as wrap-up, and a bibliography for further reading.
There are countless ways to partition the history of Christianity as one formulates a textbook, the chronological always competing with the topical. In this volume, Part I covers the time beginning with the New Testament, continuing through the post-apostolic period and medieval Catholicism, ending with the Magisterial Reformation led by Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin.
Part II highlights a new movement within the church, proceeding with fits and starts, only to gain momentum as it triumphs in the twentieth century. The first and foundational chapter of Part II features the Anabaptists, who called for separation of church and state in opposition to the Magisterial Reformers and the Catholic Church of the previous centuries. The following chapters carry on with the institutionalized church as seen in the Catholic Counter-Reformation and the English Reformation, while picking up the trail of Puritans and Quakers and diverse communities of believers worldwide — a trail that ends at the turn of the twenty-first century.
This volume is not a reference work or an exhaustive history of Christianity, nor is the selection of individuals and topics free from subjectivity. It contains no comprehensive bibliography or notes, though each chapter ends with a short list of books for further reading. Quotes featured in sidebars from historians and other present-day writers are referenced by author and title. Quotes within the body of the text are taken from original sources, most of which can be found online at such sites as Medieval Sourcebook.
The book is not written primarily for those headed for doctoral studies in church history, though I would hope such individuals would find the book most useful. Rather, it is written as an introductory college and seminary text — especially for those studying for ministry or already involved in ministry. And if lay people and smart home-schoolers snatch the book off the shelves, I will feel supremely honored.
The subject matter is people. How could it be anything other? Ralph Waldo Emerson was correct in saying there is “properly no history, only biography.” Yet history often gets a bum rap for being an endless stream of names and dates or, as Henry Ford suggested, one damn fact after another. The best way to learn history, then, is through stories. Narrative history puts flesh on the dry bones long buried as voices rise out of the graves and speak directly to us and identify with our concerns. But we dare not confuse what we hear in the stories with their actual words and meanings. On an everyday level communication easily breaks down as we speak across a dinner table, and even more so when words are spoken across time and culture.
The personal musings opening each chapter should not be mistaken for mere self-promotion. Christian history is a family history, one that becomes personalized as we put ourselves into the story. I hope that readers will find their own points of connection as they identify with individuals and events. The What if ending of each chapter should also stimulate students — in this case to identify their own counterfactuals. We easily imagine that historical events were inevitable — that Martin Luther, for example, could have done nothing other than separate from the Church of Rome. Not so. Contemplating the counterfactuals of history helps us better comprehend not only how consequential decisions can be but also how seemingly insignificant events can change the whole course of history.
The definitive counterfactual for the church historian is What if Jesus had not lived and died and been resurrected from the grave? What if? There is no answer apart from acknowledging how extraordinarily different the entire course of history would have been. And through that acknowledgment, we begin to comprehend the incredible significance of the salvation drama.
Soli Deo Gloria.