Pastor Glenn McDonald: The Great Schism

Each day this Lent we’re looking at major “turning points” in Christian history – moments or seasons in which the story of God’s people took an important and often unexpected turn.  

Shortly after I entered seminary, Mary Sue and I hoped that we might be able to make some friends. 

We invited two other seminary couples to our apartment for dinner on a Friday evening. After we had cleared the plates, we got out a deck of cards and said, “So, who’d like to play some Hearts?” 

We will never forget the looks of shock and horror that came over the faces of our guests. They had all been raised in church traditions that equated card-playing with deep sin.  

I don’t think we could have offended our guests more gravely than if we had said, “You know, there are so many great canine casserole recipes. How did you like that dachshund you ate this evening?”

Ongoing battles about non-essential issues (like dancing, card-playing, and choosing the “right” translation of the Bible) have long tarnished the Church’s reputation before the watching world. Even as outsiders strain to catch a glimpse of this transforming life that Christ-followers keep advertising, what they often hear instead is haggling about questions that truly don’t seem to matter.

How much water does it take to be properly baptized? Is it OK to drink a beer while watching March Madness? Is it acceptable for worship leaders to wear jeans? Will God be upset if I eat a ham sandwich?

What are people of faith supposed to do if it appears that Scripture hasn’t specifically addressed these and countless other issues?

The apostle Paul declares that when there’s a Winners vs. Losers mentality regarding peripheral spiritual issues, even those who think they are “winning” wind up losers.

Here’s what he advises: “Welcome with open arms fellow believers who don’t see things the way you do. And don’t jump all over them every time they do or say something you don’t agree with – even when it seems that they are strong on opinions but weak in the faith department. Remember, they have their own history to deal with. Treat them gently” (Romans 14:1-3, The Message).

If only those in the “Christian West” and the “Christian East” during the Middle Ages had made up their minds to pursue such a course.

For a very long time, the rifts between East and West had been growing. Each of these realms of the Mediterranean world could point to its counterpart and say, “They do things differently over there.”

Two distinct identities emerged. Easterners worshipped in Greek while Westerners worshipped in Latin. In the East, priests wore beards and could marry. In the West, priests were clean-shaven and celibate. The two sides quarreled about what kind of bread to serve during the eucharist, and what constituted the God-approved method for determining the date of Easter.

There were also differences relating to style. The Roman Church, which guided the West, tended to be practical. The Church at Constantinople was more theologically speculative.

When pondering Jesus’ redemptive death on the cross, the Latins saw Christ as the Victim. The Greeks celebrated Christ as the Victor.

Orthodox historian and bishop Timothy Ware notes, “But now that the two sides were becoming strangers to each other – with no political and little cultural unity, with no common language – there was a danger that each side would follow its own approach in isolation and push it to extremes, forgetting the value in the other point of view.”

The separation between the two realms ultimately became fixed on a single word: filioque, a Latin term that means, “and from the Son.”

Without much fanfare, the Roman Church had added that word to the Nicene Creed, indicating that the Holy Spirit proceeds not just from God the Father but also from God the Son. In the minds of Eastern theologians, this was a grievous theological error. They were offended not just by an idea that seemed to have little biblical support, but the casual way in which the West apparently felt free to monkey with a creed that had served the Church so well for hundreds of years.

Leaders on both sides glowered at each other.

Push finally came to shove in 1054, when Pope Leo IX sent a delegation to Constantinople for the express purpose of demanding that Eastern patriarch Michael Cerularius submit to his spiritual authority.

Cerularius refused even to meet with the papal envoys.

Cardinal Humbert, who was leading the delegation, decided that two could play this game. He walked into Hagia Sophia (“Holy Wisdom,” arguably the most magnificent church building in all of Christendom) and slapped a declaration of excommunication on the altar. Michael Cerularius, it officially announced, was no longer a member of the Body of Christ.

It should be noted that Humbert had recently received word that Pope Leo had died unexpectedly. Cerularius had heard that news, too. He quickly grasped that Humbert had decided to become an excommunication committee of one.

Humbert figured he had better skip town without further delay. Angry Eastern prelates chased after him, waving the papal bull. According to reports, that incendiary piece paper ended up lying in the street.  

Cerularius wasted no time in excommunicating his Latin counterparts. Now both sides were claiming divine authority to consign their rivals to perdition. “You’re no Christian!” “No, you’re no Christian!” Personalities and power plays ruled the day.

The split became known as the Great Schism. It represents one of the sadder turning points in the history of Christianity – made worse by the fact that we are approaching the 1,000-year anniversary of those events in Constantinople (nowadays known as Istanbul), and the Eastern and Western branches of the Church have still not found a way to reconcile.

When Western troops sacked Constantinople as part of the Fourth Crusade (1202-04) – a story we’ll consider tomorrow – the bitterness only deepened.

The Latins became known as the Roman Catholic Church and currently represent about 50% of Christianity. The Greeks, or Orthodox, comprise some 15% of the faith. Protestants make up the remaining 35%, a segment that is rapidly growing on the crest of the global Pentecostal movement.  

Will the Great Schism ever be healed?

There are signs of hope.

In 1965, Orthodox and Catholic leaders finally agreed to cancel the mutual anathemas pronounced by Cardinal Humbert and Michael Cerularius. And in 1987, the sitting pope and the sitting patriarch worshiped together and recited aloud the Nicene Creed – intentionally omitting the word filioque. Perhaps it wasn’t an essential theological formulation after all.

There is hope, indeed.

One of the Bible’s best-kept secrets is its teaching that we can disagree about issues that are not central to Christian theology or ethics – where I can think one thing about beards and communion bread and electric guitars in worship and parenting strategies and the date of Easter, and you think just the opposite – and we can both be right and blessed by God. 

When we reach such emotional impasses with each other, we can choose to do what God does: We accept each other.

The word “accept” comes from the Latin words ad capere, which means, “to take to oneself.” Strange as it may seem, offering acceptance to another human being is actually a form of receiving. 

If I accept you, it doesn’t mean that I agree with all of your opinions about every subject. It does mean that I welcome you into my circle of care and concern. I take you and your interests – even though you think differently – to myself. 

All too often in Church history that spirit has been nowhere to be found. 

It’s time to ditch the I’m-right-and-I-know-it attitude when it comes to non-essential matters. 

Before we experience the next great schism in our family, our neighborhood, or our church, we can learn to appreciate each other’s company – whether or not anyone ever ends up playing Hearts.