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Late in the fall of 374, the crowd gathered in Milan’s Great Cathedral turned their attention to Ambrose, the consular prefect of their province. Bishop Auxentius had just died, and the prefect had come to address the anxious gathering. In his usual eloquence he began to plead with the various Christian factions to put their differences aside and elect a new, strong bishop who would unite the Church—but he didn’t get far, for he was quickly interrupted—and shocked—by the call, “Ambrose for bishop!”

Ambrose (c. 339 – 397) was born around the year 340 to a prominent Christian family in Trier, Germany. His father was a successful governor in southern France, and his mother was a highly educated and pious woman. From an early age Ambrose was trained in Greek, literature, law, rhetoric, and philosophy, and was expected to follow his father in civic service. Around 372, Ambrose was appointed governor of the province of Aemilia-Liguria, with headquarters in Milan, Italy’s second capital. In Milan, Ambrose quickly showed himself to be a very capable administrator and a great orator, and he gained a reputation for impartiality and fairness.

When on that fall morning in 374 he entered the Great Church to give his speech, Ambrose thought he had come to restore order and ask for the bishops to unite the Church; he had no intention of getting into ecclesiastical politics. When the call came, “Ambrose for bishop!” Ambrose ran out of the building, not wanting any part of this, reminding everyone that he was only a catechumen.1 But the people insisted, and the governor acquiesced, for, in the oldest of Roman customs, vox populi, vox dei, “the voice of the people is the voice of God.” And so, within the span of a week’s time, Ambrose was baptized into the Church, ordained as a priest, and consecrated as a bishop.

In spite of his “irregular” beginning, or perhaps because of it, Ambrose became one of the most beloved bishops in the history of the Church and one of the four doctors2 of Western Christianity. An unparalleled writer, theologian, hymnodist, and pastor, Ambrose continued throughout his episcopacy to care both for his city and for his church. The bishop of Milan was never intimidated by either imperial authority or invading armies. When the Goths invaded his province and captured many, Ambrose gave all of his personal wealth to ransom as many as he could and even melted down the golden vessels belonging to his church to ransom many more. And when Emperor Theodosius I (379-395) massacred 7,000 people in Thessalonica in 390, Ambrose excommunicated him and forced him to perform public penance for eight months before he would ever be accepted back into communion.

Ambrose stood at the threshold of history, where the Church began moving from the margins to the center, from a persecuted minority to a powerful force not only for personal, but also for social transformation. As a bishop, it was his responsibility to God not to accommodate the emperor or the state, but to speak the truth. In one of his letters to Emperor Theodosius he said:

[I]t is not right for an emperor to refuse freedom of speech, nor is it right for a priest to refrain from saying what he knows is right. . . . The difference between good and bad rulers is that the good love liberty and the bad, servitude. There is nothing so dangerous for a priest in the eyes of God and nothing considered so base in him than that he not speak his mind freely. For it is written, “I spoke of your laws in the sight of kings and I was not confused” [Ps. 119:46]. Elsewhere, we read, “Son of man, I made you a watchman of the house of Israel, . . . ” [Ezek. 3:17].3

Today, many pastors and leaders of the Church forget their role as “watchmen over Israel” and accommodate the culture around them, trying to be “relevant,” “non-offensive.” Unlike Ambrose they forget that one of the central roles of the Church of Christ is to be the conscience of the people, of culture, and of governments. Her call is to speak openly, clearly, and without compromise, and to bring God’s message of salvation and transformation to all who hear.

Footnotes:

1 One still being trained in the Christian faith and not yet baptized.
2 So named for the great impact of their doctrine on the Catholic Church. The four—Gregory the Great, Augustine, Ambrose, and Jerome—were so designated in the early Middle Ages.
3 Ambrose, “To Theodosius, Letter 40,” The Early Church and State, in Sources of Early Christian Thought, vol. 4, ed. and trans. Agnes Cunningham (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982) 87-88.

Many of you have heard the news that Francis Beckwith, President of ETS (Evangelical Theological Society) stepped down from his post last week on account of “returning home to the Roman Catholic Church.” As you might imagine, news of his decision has created more than a little discussion. In fact, the brouhaha is so great that just two days after his blog post announcing it, there were 190 pages worth of responses (more than 500 posts by the fourth day). I printed out all 190 pages, brought them home, and discussed them all evening with my wife. You are probably thinking that our lives are terribly boring and one dimensional, and of course you are right. The other reason for our interest is the research and writing I have been doing on the topic. My writing, which is intended to become a book, asserts that Catholics and Protestants must consciously relate to one another with grace and truth. Our calling to be Christ’s Body doesn’t give us the option of expressing one virtue over the other. Grace and truth must be held together in dynamic tension, for this is the example of Jesus himself (cf. John 1:14). Accordingly, we mustn’t be so open-minded that our brains fall out of our heads; nor can we justify an irritable, cranky attitude.

The extended responses to Dr. Beckwith present the wide spectrum of attitudes among Protestants and Catholics toward one another and thus are a contemporary example of the good the bad and the ugly (mostly bad and ugly). Following is an example:

“I embrace the Gospel message with gratefulness for what Christ has done for me on the Cross. It would be like a slap to His face if I would return to the Roman system. I love Christ too much to do that to Him. Beckwith, I hope and pray that you’ll come to trust in Christ alone for your salvation. Now as a Catholic you have embraced a false and deceptive doctrinal belief on salvation.”

On the grace/truth continuum, this fellow is less than balanced. Some would recommend Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends…, I would recommend reading 1 Cor 13.

“Dear Frank:
One of my students gave me your news this afternoon and pointed me to your website. I so appreciate your wrestling with all the ethical issues involved, as your blog recounts, though I wouldn’t have expected any less, knowing you as I do. What an array of responses you’ve received, which doesn’t surprise me either but still saddens me how folks can express their concern or disagreement with such vitriol. I’ve known enough folks over the years representing a huge diversity of experiences with Catholicism both inside and outside the church to have no doubt about your genuine hope to find an evangelical wing or parish or fellowship in which you can thrive, even while they may remain a minority within the worldwide Catholic communion. I hope you can do great things for the movement from within, though I don’t underestimate the struggles you may have. I suspect, though, that it will be at least a little more courteous than all the incredible [stress] you had to put with from Baylor and certain Southern Baptists! You’re still my friend with lots of admiration even if I don’t anticipate following your pilgrimage. –Craig Blomberg”

Of all the posts which I read, I appreciated Dr. Blomberg’s the most (Craig Blomberg teaches New Testament at Denver Seminary). Some of you may not agree. You may feel as though Blomberg was weak or remise to not confront Beckwith. However, I ask you, what can realistically be accomplished in a blog response beyond venting one’s doctrinal spleen? And while this kind of offloading of theological frustration may feel good, the affect upon our Christian witness is disastrous. The blog responses make us Protestants look like a bunch of uptight scholastics carrying stakes and torches.

As I reflect upon Francis Beckwith’s blog, it underscores the importance of addressing Catholics according to the grace/truth paradigm. To be sure, there are occasions when we must give an answer for the hope within us and not be reticent about differentiating our understanding of salvation from the sacramental system of Rome. But we must use wisdom in knowing what these occasions are and in every situation, regardless of our audience, be careful to speak with the loving character of Christ. God help us.