Up to this point, I’ve been speaking of “legitimate” variance—as opposed, I suppose, to differences of the “illegitimate” kind. This legitimate/illegitimate construct can carry a powerful connotation (and I’m still not sure if I subconsciously intended it). It could be taken to imply that variance in belief and practice is something to be feared, something dangerous, something threatening to the unity of the Church. As long as one takes this view, then divergence in religious expression (whether in thought or practice) must always be kept in check, for the Body of Christ is always faced with the threat of division.
Now, I think there are certainly instances in which that might be true. However, in the last piece of this series (for my attention is already strained), I would like to consider another way of thinking about diversity—namely, that it is a good not merely to be “tolerated” but understood and celebrated as a manifestation of the Spirit in the life of the Church.
This view of diversity, I suggest, is rooted in Luke’s account of the Pentecost event in Acts 2.1-11. Although it is often the “pyrotechnics” (sound, fire, the ecstatic speech, etc.) in this passage that get our attention, Luke’s primary focus in his description is not the occurrence of ecstatic speech per se but rather the proclamation in diverse languages of the “mighty works of God” under the inspiration of the one Spirit. True, the disciples “were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance” (Acts 2.4), but we mustn’t miss Luke’s stress on the intelligibility and inclusivity of the phenomenon:
And at this sound the multitude came together, and they were bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in his own language. And they were amazed and wondered, saying, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us in his own native language? Parthians and Medes and Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabians, we hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God.” (Acts 2.6-11)
Three times in this passage, Luke tells us that the members of the audience, varied in their geographical origin, language and ethnicity, heard the disciples’ preaching in their own native language. This is because, I think, he wants to emphasize the going forth of the Gospel to all the peoples of the world—a trajectory which found its humble beginnings that day.
The Spirit who descended on the disciples is indeed one, yet he manifested himself by enabling them to proclaim the works of God in a plurality of languages. Thus, in the mystery of Pentecost, the power of the Spirit is made known precisely in diversity—the diversity which in turn becomes the very means by which he gathers into one Body all who believe the Gospel. This tension between oneness and diversity, between the one Spirit and the many peoples, gives us cause for wonder:
When the Most High came down and confused the tongues, He divided the nations;
but when He distributed the tongues of fire, He called all to unity.
Therefore, with one voice, we glorify the All-holy Spirit!
(Kontakion of Pentecost)
The Church, if she is to fulfill her vocation to regather the scattered family of Adam, will always contain people who are radically different in the way they think, speak, pray and love. Should she at any point in history find herself tending toward homogeneity, it would actually be a sign of her infirmity, not her health.
How does this bear on my thinking about church unity and legitimate diversity? I’m not sure of the implications and possibilities, but of this I’m quite certain: diversity of opinion and praxis within the generous boundaries of Scripture and Tradition need not mean that the Church is divided. In fact, these differences can often bear witness to the ingenuity and wisdom of the Spirit, who gathers the many into one without obliterating the uniqueness and vividness of each person, tribe and nation. Sometimes, those differences will lead to arguments and debates as we Christians struggle to hear each other and speak to one another clearly. They might make us uncomfortable, but are they always bad? I don’t think so. Perhaps these disagreements and debates can become ways by which we attain to a deeper understanding of truth.
In the New Testament Church, the struggle of Jewish and Gentile Christians to accept each other as members of the Body of Christ, though marked by fierce tensions at times, bore several rich fruits—the council of Jerusalem (Acts 15) and Paul’s letters to the Romans and the Galatians, to name a few. The Fathers of the Fifth Ecumenical Council (Constantinople II, 553 AD) also seemed quite open to the possibility of learning from discussion and debate:
The holy fathers, who have gathered at intervals in the four holy councils, have followed the examples of antiquity. They dealt with heresies and current problems by debate in common, since it was established as certain that when the disputed question is set out by each side in communal discussions, the light of truth drives out the shadows of lying. (Sentences against “The Three Chapters”)
I know that differences in theological opinion, expression and practice can and have led us to great sorrows and sharp divisions, but I think they can also become occasions for us to learn to love one another more deeply and marvel at the God who created each thing “according to its kind”.
Even if you disagree, I am at least cheered by my own optimism.
