In response to Wielenberg's first argument, it seems perfectly reasonable for the Theist to assert two propositions.  The first being that it is impossible for God’s character to be different than it is, and the second being that it is impossible to actually change the nature of moral perfection, as the evil contestant does in Wielenberg’s story.  The second claim rests on the first.  God’s character simply is the definition of moral perfection, and if His character cannot change, than neither can moral perfection.  But to the first proposition Wielenberg might ask why God’s character cannot change.  The response is simple, because if it did, then He would cease to be morally perfect, and thus cease to be God.  At this point, Wielenberg might accuse the Theist of a contradiction.  If God’s character cannot change without ceasing to be morally perfect, then isn’t there some outside standard to which we are holding God’s character?  To this the Theist may reply that God’s character is indeed the only standard of perfection, and that all things are either good or bad based on their relation to Him alone, but that His character, being what it is, cannot be otherwise.  It is simply a brute fact of the universe.  For God is the ground of all being, the source and foundation for all reality.  He simply is.  And he could not be otherwise.  If Wielenberg still wishes to object to this claim, then the Theist can quickly remind him that this is precisely what he wishes his reader to believe about the brute moral facts of the universe.  Indeed, this is the thesis of his book!  Moral facts such as “it is wrong to torture babies for fun” are, according to Wielenberg, real moral entities that exist and simply cannot be otherwise.  But as far I can tell, there is no reason to believe that brute moral facts cannot change and not believe that God’s character cannot change.  Thus, for Wielenberg to reject the Dependency Thesis for this reason would also be for him to reject his own moral theory.

    For the second argument, I believe that two possible responses are open to the Theist.  First, it can be argued that since a thing’s nature is given to it by God, it is still possible for something to be either good or evil by virtue of its nature, even though God indirectly made it so.  Taking the example of falling in love, a Theist might say that falling in love is most certainly an instance of intrinsic good, its very nature is simply and completely good, but that because its nature was given to it by God, it is ultimately God that has, in a sense, “declared” it to be what it is.  It sounds to me as though Wielenberg’s argument is actually saying, “nothing can be good in virtue of its nature because God gave it its nature.”  But of course that doesn’t follow.  What Wielenberg is really attacking is the notion that falling in love is not good for its own sake, but that it is good because God told us so.  What he overlooks is the simple solution that God “told us so” by giving it a nature that was either good or evil. 
   
    However, there is another response that seems perfectly reasonable to me, namely that the Theist simply accepts that nothing actually is intrinsically good or evil apart from God.  Why is suffering evil?  Because God doesn’t want his creatures to suffer.  Why is falling in love good?  Because God wants us to be happy, and in part because it facilitates the creation of families, children, and society.  Wielenberg is relying on the unshakable intuition that pain is evil in and of itself.  It is better to keep this obvious truth than to accept a theory that rejects it.  But isn’t it just as likely that the unshakable intuition in question is merely that pain is evil, leaving entirely open the question of why or how it is evil?  This seems more plausible to me.

   In Chapter Two of Value And Virtue In A Godless Universe, Erik Wielenberg introduces two theses that he believes implicitly support Divine Command Theory.  The first is the Control Thesis which states that “every logically consistent ethical claim, E, is such that God could make E true.”   The second is the Dependency Thesis which states that “every true ethical claim is true in virtue of some act of will on the part of God.”  Essentially, the great difference between these two is that in the former God creates ethics (by divine fiat we might say), while in the later ethics is based upon and originates from God’s nature or character.  From this, Wielenberg distinguishes between two forms of Divine Command Theory.  The first or “strong” form accepts both the Control and Dependency Thesis, while the “weak” form accepts only the Dependency Thesis.

    It is important to consider Wielenberg’s objection to the strong form of Divine Command Theory first (which is essentially an objection to the Control Thesis), since it will play a role in his objection to the weak form.  He objects to the strong form by way of an illustration.   He asks us to imagine a competition in which the prize is omnipotence.  One contestant is a very good person, while the other is very evil.  Suppose, he says, that the evil person wins the contest and gains omnipotence.  According to the Control Thesis, the evil contestant can now make it such that all of the evil acts he intends to perform (mass slaughter of innocents, torture, etc.) are actually very good.  Moreover, he can make it such he is now a morally perfect being, not by changing himself, but by changing the nature of moral perfection.  Thus, in the end, evil becomes good and the killing and torture of innocent people is morally commendable.  Wielenberg relies primarily on intuition to argue that “there is simply no amount of power that would enable a being to make that true.”   He further argues that “This story seems to get things backwards by making morality subject to power.”  Fair enough.  Our moral intuitions certainly do seem to suggest to us that no amount of power could make such atrocities good.  We want to argue, especially as Christians, that morality is somehow objective and fixed, and that it could not be otherwise.  At least on the surface, Wielenberg’s argument seems to offer convincing reasons to reject the Control Thesis on just such grounds.  And so, for the sake of argument, we will grant him his conclusion.

    Now Wielenberg turns his philosophical gun on the weak form of Divine Command Theory, specifically on the Dependency Thesis, which he states as follows, “It is still divine willing that determines which ethical claims are true, but the scope of divine willing is limited by the divine character.”   In other words, God still retains the prerogative to say what things humans can and cannot do in certain times and places, but contra the Control Thesis He cannot command simply anything, but can only command those things which are in accordance with His own character, which sets the standard of moral goodness.  Wielenberg proposes three objections to this thesis.  First, he suggests that “implicit in the proposal is the notion that God has the power to make any logically consistent ethical claim true.”  In the weak claim, God’s character prevents Him from making evil things good, but Wielenberg seems to be suggesting that the Control Thesis still manages to slip in the back door, and that we are left with the same problem, just moved back a step.  If it were the case that God’s character turned out to be like the evil contestant in Wielenberg’s imaginary story, then even on the Dependency Thesis alone it would still be conceivable that God could make the slaughter of innocents a morally good thing.  But Wielenberg has already refuted such a notion. 

    Wielenberg’s second objection to the Dependency Thesis is even stronger.  He argues that an implication of the Dependency Thesis is that nothing is intrinsically good or evil.  He says, “If an act of will on the part of God bestows value on something distinct from God, that value cannot be intrinsic.”   By intrinsic value he means that a thing is valuable only in virtue of its nature.  As an example of an intrinsic evil, he suggests pain.  Pain is just bad, in and of itself, without reference to anything else.  Conversely, falling in love is intrinsically good; it is simply good for its own sake.  Following Chisholm, who argues that any theory of epistemology that doesn’t allow for obvious instances of knowledge should be rejected, Wielenberg suggests that any theory of morality that rejects something as obvious as the fact that some things are intrinsically good or evil should also be rejected. 

    What might the Christian say in response to these arguments?  Tune in tomorrow!

    When it comes to the gender debate, we must always keep sight of the Biblical picture of leadership.  Egalitarians frequently argue that our focus should not be on claiming our rights to authority over others, and I couldn’t agree more.  They argue that we should focus on serving one another, and again I couldn’t agree more.  But something that egalitarians would do well to remember is that true Biblical leadership is nothing more than the ultimate form of servanthood. 

    Christ has all power and authority and dominion over all the earth, and yet He humbled himself more than any human being possibly could.  The same is true for those who are called to lead in Christ’s church.  The powerful description of the way in which a husband is to love his wife (Ephesians 5) does not reveal some sort of egalitarian model of marriage, rather it reinforces the Biblical picture of true, Christ-like leadership.  For a husband to take on the role of head of his wife is for him to give up his own desires for her sake.  It is for him to always put her first, to always think of her before himself, and ultimately to give up his whole life for her (figuratively as well as in reality).  This is not a command to “mutually submit.”  Far from it.  This is a command to be a true Christian leader, as Christ was, and is, and ever will be. 

I was on facebook the other day, taking a silly quiz to see how "Reformed" I was.  As it turns out, the quiz was designed by Presbyterians, so it wasn't very accurate. 

One person, obviously irked by Reformation theology, left a rather cynical comment on the quiz's wall, along the lines of "child prostitution brings glory to God."  This person was attempting to raise the objection that, because the Reformed believe quite strongly that every event and every moment of history is ordained by God, for the purpose of glorifying Himself, they are left with the (supposedly) absurd conclusion that the most vile and wicked acts imaginable are somehow God-glorifying.  Child prostitution exists, according to this line of thought, because God in some sense wanted it to. 

I just want to say two things in response to this.  The first is that, as is often the case, this is a stilted charicature of Reformed theology.  No sane Reformed person actually believes that God possesses a disposition such that He actually delights in suffering.  There is a very real sense in which God does not want anyone to suffer, in this life or in the next.  He justly hates evil in every possible sense.  You'll also be hard pressed to find a Reformed theologian who will claim that the Fall (and the subsequent existence of sin and evil in the world) was somehow necessary.  What you will find is a commitment to the idea that, even though evil things are evil in and of themselves, and should not be considered good in any way, it must be the case that they exist for the good, or God would not allow them.  I think Reformed and non-Reformed alike should be able to agree on this.  The only other option is that God does not work all things for good (even if only the best good possible).

The second point is very important, and too often overlooked.  Typically it is said that Reformed theology places the ultimate blame on God, while Arminian forms remove from Him any such responsibility and place it back on us.  Here's the problem:  Both views must account for vile atrocities like child prostitution.  And both views believe in an omnipotent and wholly good God.  In short, both must still account for the problem of evil.  But to simply say, "well, it's human freedom" does little to get God off the hook.  At the heart of the so-called "free will defense" against the problem of evil is the notion that the free choice to love God is so infinitely beautiful and good that it is worth the price of child prostitution.  This is, to say the least, a contentious claim.  But more importantly, most advocates of this view will also argue that such free choices of love are supremely God-glorifying.  Arminian theology doesn't glorify man by placing all the emphasis on him and his choices, says the Arminian, but rather it places equal emphasis on God and His glory.  Fair enough.  But notice what the Arminian view is now saying:  God "allows" (rather than "ordains") child prostitution so that some can freely choose Him, to the end of glorifying Himself.  Does that sound familair? 

My point here is not necessarily to defend one view over the other.  I don't think I've made any case for Reformed theology here.  But we need to stop acting as though any one denomination has the sure-fire, bullet-proof response to something as immensely troubling and difficult as the problem of evil.  I don't hold to Reformed theology because I think it makes more sense of the problem of evil than Arminian theology, and I would strongly discourage anyone from holding to Arminian theology for the same reason.  If you can't accept Reformed doctrine because of exegetical concerns, or because you think it has no adequate grounding for moral responsibility, great!  All I wish to submit here is that the mere presence of evil in the world is not by itself sufficient grounds for accepting or rejecting either view.  It is, as they say, a two-way street.   

Quenching God's Oracles: The Condemnation of Montanism in Four Parts
Part 4: Conclusion

Previous Parts:
Part 1: Introduction & History of Montanism
Part 2: The Beliefs of the Montanists
Part 3: The Condemnation of the Montanists

Conclusion

Epiphanius noted that the Montanists “accept of the Old and New Testaments, and acknowledge likewise the resurrection of the dead, but they boast of having as a prophet one Montanus, and Priscilla and Maximilla as prophetesses, in adhering to whom they have turned from the truth.”[1] The early church did not condemn the Montanists for opposing the essential doctrines of the Christian faith, but rather condemned them on mostly prophetic grounds. Specifically, four accusations have been cited against the Montanists: the ecstatic irrational nature of the prophecies, false prophecies, misuse of Scripture, and the lifestyle of the prophets. Of these, it appears the accusation of false prophecy was the most common and the most serious.

Several conclusions about the early church can be drawn from this study for the aid of those looking to seriously apply the ancient-future paradigm. First, for each of the critics of Montanism examined, the gift of prophecy was understood to still exist. The cessation of prophecy or charismatic gifts was not the criticism; it was that the so-called prophets were false and misleading. Second, the standard by which to judge whether one is a true or false prophet has at least four criteria: awareness and logical coherence, factuality, coherence with Scripture, and lifestyle above reproach. If any of these criteria are not perfectly met, then the person in question is not a true prophet. Third, prophecy always refers to divine authority and is either true, and thus directly from God, or false, and thus directly against God. This third conclusion has specific application for the contemporary “Third-Wave” movement, which holds prophecy to be only a human report of what they think God has done.[2]

            Critics will charge these to be the opinions of some early church fathers and not necessarily biblical teaching. While these were the opinions of the fathers, these teaching were, however, based on their understanding of the Bible. Especially in light of the “ancient-future” paradigm contemporary Christians should not be so quick to dismiss those who were closer to the sources of the Bible (the apostolic authors) and contended earnestly through thoughtful argumentation for the Christian faith as they understood it. We would do well to learn from their examples: to take confidence in the authority and truth of God's word, to apply it ruthlessly in our theology and lifestyles, and act in boldness to defend the faith once for all delivered to the saints.

Quenching God's Oracles: The Condemnation of Montanism in Four Parts
Part 3: The Condemnation of the Montanists

Previous Parts:
Part 1: Introduction & History of Montanism
Part 2: The Beliefs of the Montanists

The Condemnation of the Montanists

            It should be clear that the Montanists were not condemned for disregarding traditional/orthodox beliefs about the Trinity and salvation. In fact, their adherence to these doctrines led some to accept the Montanists and even join them. However, most church leaders at the time did condemn the movement. Three main sources known today for condemning Montanism: “The Anonymous,” Apollonius, and Epiphanius. From these sources four specific reasons can be assembled: the ecstatic irrational nature of the prophecies, false prophecies, misuse of Scripture, and the lifestyle of the prophetic trio.

            Two of the sources are found in the history written by Eusebius, in which he recounts why the Montanists were condemned. The first is simply known as “the Anonymous.” After asserting that Montanus was seeking leadership, the Anonymous described how the prophecies came about: Montanus “became beside himself, and being suddenly in a sort of frenzy and ecstacy, he raved, and began to babble and utter strange things, prophesying in a manner contrary to the constant custom of the Church handed down by tradition from the beginning.”[1] He recounts that while some accused Montanus of being possessed by a demon, many were taken in by this display of power and followed the proclaimed prophet. F. David Farnell notes the standard the Anonymous used in judging the Montanists on this count: “For the Anonymous, such ecastic, irrational prophesying violated scriptural standards for prophecy…. Prophecies should come in an orderly and rational manner.”[2] The Anonymous attributed such activity by Montanus to Satan himself.

            False prophecy was the most common accusation against the Montanists, and the Anonymous accused them of this as well. One of problems in determining what exactly the Montanists said and did is that none of their own writings are currently known and very few quotes that are attributed to them. Even so, one of the quotes attributed to Maximilla says, “After me there will now longer be any prophetess. It will be the end of all.”[3] This “end of all” is understood to mean the second coming of Jesus Christ. The Anonymous was likely referring to a similar prophecy when he said, “And has not this been shown clearly to be false? For it is to-day more than thirteen years since the woman died, and there has been neither a partial nor general war in the world; but rather, through the mercy of God, continued peace among Christians.”[4]

            The third accusation leveled by the Anonymous is the misuse of Scripture. He seems to have been responding to the Montanists’ use of Matthew 23:34 when he said, “Since, therefore, they called us slayers of the prophets because we did not receive their loquacious prophets, who, they say, are those the Lord promised to send to the people, let them answer as in God’s presence: Who is there, O friends, of these who began to talk, from Montanus and the women down, that was persecuted by the Jews, or slain by lawless men? None. Or has any of them been seized and crucified for the Name? Truly not. Or has one of these women ever been scourged in the synagogues of the Jews, or stoned? No; never anywhere.”[5]

            Apollonius was Eusebius’s second source in recounting the condemnation of the Montanists. His first accusation had to do, once again, with the false prophecies of the Montanists, however, Eusebius does not record how Apollonius dealt with these prophecies. Farnell speculates that, “Since he discusses Apollonius’s refutation of Montanism right after his survey of the Anonymous, one may reasonably conclude that he may not have given details because this would have overlapped of much material already covered in the discussion on the Anonymous.”[6]

The second accusation made by Apollonius related to the practices and lifestyle of those in the movement, including Montanus. “We show that these first prophetesses themselves, as soon as they were filled with the Spirit, abandoned their husbands. How falsely therefore they speak who call Prisca [Priscilla] a virgin… Does not all Scripture seem to you to forbid a prophet to receive gifts and money? When therefore I see the prophetess receiving god and silver and costly garments, how can I avoid reproving her?”[7] This ultimately has to do with whether they were true or false prophets, since Apollonius held that, “It is necessary that all the fruits of a prophet should be examined.”[8]

Epiphanius accused the Montanists of some of these same things. He contended that the Montanists, “separated themselves, ‘adhering to spirits of error and doctrines of demons.’”[9] He too pointed to the false prophecies of the Montanists. “Everything that the [true] prophets have said, they also said rationally with understanding; and the things they said have come true and are still coming true. But Maximilla said that the consummation would come after her, and no consummation has come yet—even after so many emperors and such a lapse of time!”[10] The central point here is the false prophecy of Maximilla, but Epiphanius also alludes to true prophets speaking “rationally with understanding,” as if to say this is an essential quality of a true prophet absent from the Montanists. He clarified this later in saying, “Now what rational person who receives the ‘profitable’ message with understanding and cares for his salvation, can fail to despise a false religion like this, and the speech of someone who boasts of being a prophet but cannot talk like a prophet?”

            Misuse of Scripture is another similar accusation leveled by Epiphanius. “Apparently, the [Montanists] cited the sleep of Adam and his response to Eve’s creation in Genesis 2:21-23 as an example of proof for ecstatic prophecy.”[12] The response of Epiphanius was that, “Adam’s case was nothing like theirs… God brought the unconsciousness of sleep upon Adam, not distraction of mind… Adam’s senses and wits were not in abeyance.”[13] Epiphanius built a case condemning the Montanists for twisting scripture by showing that they changed the meaning of the text. He claimed that, “they wish to mix truth and falsehood and render senseless the minds of those who care about orthodoxy, and they gather for themselves passages by means of which they fabricate their error, claiming they have the same meaning.”[14]

Quenching God's Oracles: The Condemnation of Montanism in Four Parts
Part 2: The Beliefs of the Montanists

Previous Parts:
Part 1: Introduction & History of Montanism

The Beliefs of the Montanists

            Perhaps more important than the history of Montanism is what those in the group believed. It is commonly noted that the Montanists held mostly orthodox beliefs. Schaff recorded, “In doctrine, Montanism agreed in all essential points with the Catholic Church, and held very firmly to the traditional rule of faith.”[1] Sine the movement existed prior to the councils and creeds, such formulations should not be expected of them. However, in relation to their contemporary doctrines, they expressed orthodox understandings of the Trinity and salvation. Shelly notes that Montanus “came with a demand for a higher standard and a greater discipline and sharper separation of the church from the world. Had he halted there, he could have done little but good, but he went much further.”[2] Deviation from what some might call “the fundamentals” did not trouble the Montanists’ critics. Rather, it appears the church found their claims regarding prophecy and some of their practices intolerable.

            F.F. Bruce uniquely summed up Montanus’s position: “For (he maintained) Christ’s promise of the coming Paraclete had now been fulfilled, and he, Montanus, was the Paraclete’s mouthpiece. The coming of the Paraclete was the immediate prelude to the second advent of Christ and the establishment of the New Jerusalem in one of the towns of Phrygia.”[3] The gift of prophecy, according to the Montanists, continued beyond the apostolic age, and each Christian could expect to receive revelation through the power of the Holy Spirit. However, Montanus, Maximilla, and Priscilla were the central prophetic figures. They not only proclaimed the second coming of Christ, but Shelley explains they also set themselves up against the church by claiming higher authority: “The prophet claimed the right to push Christ and the apostolic message into the background.… In the name of the Spirit, Montanus denied that God’s decisive and normative revelation had occurred in Jesus Christ.”[4]

            A fundamental element of the Montanist prophecies was their millenarian perspective. D.H. Williams defines a millennial movement “as a religious-social movement which expects immediate, total, collective, this-worldly salvation, and which believes this will be accomplished by divine agencies.”[5] In other words, the substance and motivation of Montanist prophecies rested in the belief in a rapidly approaching apocalypse, which was often characterized by the descent of a New Jerusalem. This eschatological emphasis appears to have enticed many Christians to accept and even follow Montanus and his prophets.

            Beyond their beliefs regarding prophecy, the Montanists were also known for some distinctive practices. Because Maximilla and Priscilla had left their husbands to serve with Montanus, some thought that they taught celibacy and the dissolving of existing marriages. However, the records only indicate strong teachings against second marriages. They did adhere to a form of asceticism and self-denial, and this too was rooted in their millenarian perspective.

Quenching God's Oracles: The Condemnation of Montanism in Four Parts
Part 1: Introduction & History of Montanism

            In recent years there has been a revival of interest in the faith of the early church. Some have insisted the way forward must be traveled first by looking back, and thus embracing an “ancient-future” faith. There is much to be said for such a position since history and tradition ought to significantly inform the faith of those in Christ’s church.

            Given this paradigm, the struggles and disputes the church has grappled with through the centuries are of considerable importance to Christians today. The standards put forward by leaders in the early church ought to inform contemporary discussions in some authoritative regard. One such struggle in the early church was with a group who referred to themselves as the New Prophecy.

            Those in the New Prophecy, also known as Montanists, immediately raised suspicion and were ultimately condemned as charismatic heretics. The standards used by the early church to condemn this group should have direct implications for current charismatic discussion in light of the “ancient-future” paradigm. Therefore, it is important for theologians today to understand the Montanists and why they were considered heretics to see what it may mean for current debates.

The History of Montanism

            Montanus and his followers considered themselves the New Prophecy; however, historians usually refer to the group as Montanists. While it is agreed that Montanus began the movement, there has been some debate as to when it began. Humberto Raul Treiyer notes, “The date of the organization is uncertain because Montanists remained in the Christian churches as long as they were permitted to remain.”[1] Based on calculations in light of Epiphanius, an early apologist, the origins of Montanus’s prophecies date to around 156 C.E.; however, calculations based on Eusebius, an early historian, date the origins to around 171 C.E. Most other speculations fall within these two dates. Some have suggested the earlier date may have been when Montanus began his teaching and the later reflects when the bishops of Asia Minor condemned him.[2]

            Montanus was a convert to Christianity in Phrygia, a region in central Asia Minor. According to Treiyer, “Being a devotee of the goddess [Cybele], he most probably was a self-made eunuch, because castration performed in her main sanctuary… was considered the highest manifestation of worship and reverence to her.”[3] Though Montanus was a priest of Cybele, it is unknown to what degree this impacted his Christianity. Shortly after his conversion Montanus began his ministry and enlisted the service of two women, Maximilla and Priscilla. The trio claimed to be prophets bringing new revelation in an effort to reform the church. After being condemned by most church leaders, Montanus was compelled to start new communities of believers, though they still called themselves Christians. The most notable conversion to Montanism was that of the early apologist Tertullian, who made his affiliation known in 201 or 202 C.E. Montanus’s message spread throughout much of Asia Minor, but after repeated condemnations and persecution, the movement was ultimately paralyzed under the persecution of Justinian in 530 C.E. Montanus and Maximilla are said to have committed suicide. “Incited by the spirit of frenzy, they both hung themselves; not at the same time, but at the time which common report gives for the death of each. And thus they died, and ended their lives like the traitor Judas.”[4]  

    Obviously, all four views have some strengths and some weaknesses.  It seems to me that it is simply a matter of deciding which view has the fewest weaknesses and the most strengths.  For me, the Reformed view is the clear winner, but with Memorialism in a close second.  Let me elaborate.

    The Reformed critiques of the Roman Catholic and Lutheran views are, I believe, devastating.  To confer a divine attribute to Christ’s human nature is nothing less than a violation of the Chalcedonian Creed, which affirms that Christ’s two natures are neither confused nor mixed.  Likewise, the finite cannot contain the infinite, which rules out any doctrine of the Eucharist that would seek to contain Christ within the elements.  David P. Scaer’s response to this argument was twofold: First, he argued that we cannot let a philosophical axiom be a basis of doctrine.  This is a weak argument, however, since I’m sure Scaer would agree that we can and should (and indeed must!) allow the basic laws of logic to be a basis for doctrine.  Second, he argued that without the power to contain itself in the finite, the infinite would not truly be infinite.   But this sounds like the sort of argument that says “if God were truly omnipotent He could do anything, including make a contradiction true.”  But this, of course, is to misconstrue the meaning of omnipotence.  Likewise Scaer seems to have the wrong idea about infinitude. 

    Moreover, Russell D. Moore’s argument that the misunderstanding of Christ’s metaphorical teachings about Himself is a recurring theme in John’s gospel (an argument that can easily be appropriated by the Reformed view) deals a similar deathblow to Catholicism and Lutheranism by removing the force of the most explicit passage of Scripture in their favor (John 6). 

    But what of the Memorialist view?  There is strength in their connection of the Lord’s Supper to Passover, which was by no means a meal that conferred special grace or contained the Spirit of God.  And if we are to support Memorialist arguments regarding the metaphorical nature of Christ’s body and blood, why not go all the way and admit that the elements are merely signs that point metaphorically to those realities?
  
    I believe there is one primary reason to affirm the Reformed view rather than the Memorialist view (I think there are others, but they would take us too far into other areas of theology), and it is found in 1 Corinthians chapter 10, verse 16.  In this verse, Paul is clear that when we eat of the bread and drink of the cup we are actually participating with Christ’s body and blood in a special way that is different from the “regular” participation with Christ that the church in general enjoys.  At this point, Russell D. Moore reminds us that Paul contrasts this with food offered to idols, which he says makes a person a participant with demons.  Does this imply that eating food offered to idols allows a person to spiritually commune with the “real presence” of a demon?  Of course not.  But here I think Moore simply makes the mistake of directly equivocating what the Lord’s Supper means and what food sacrificed to demons means.  What is significant in this passage is not that there is a direct and perfect correlation between the two, but rather that Paul is affirming that there is something real and supernatural at work behind the worship of idols.  To be sure, the statues themselves are lifeless creations of man and the “gods” they represent do not exist, but behind them is the real, supernatural work of Satan and his demons.  That is the only point Paul is trying to make here.  The correlation to the Lord’s Supper, then, is in the fact that, likewise, there is something very real and very supernatural going on behind the partaking of the Lord’s Supper.  This strongly suggests something more than mere symbolism.

     For these reasons, then, I believe the Reformed view to be the superior understanding of the doctrine of Holy Communion, while at the same time acknowledging that such a profound mystery will never fully be grasped by the human mind, at least not this side of Paradise.  

    I place the Roman Catholic view next because it represents that opposite extreme from Memorialism and is (mostly) just as straightforward.  According to Roman Catholics, during the Mass (when the Lord’s Supper or Eucharist is celebrated), when the Priest consecrates the bread and wine, a miracle occurs and the very substance of the bread and wine are transformed into the substance of the body and blood of Christ.  According to Aquinas’s formulation, which remains official Catholic dogma to this day, while the substance is changed, the accidents remain the same.  So, the bread still looks, feels, and tastes like bread, but nevertheless its substance has become the body of Christ Himself. 

    Roman Catholics would take Christ’s words of institution in the Gospels literally, as they would also take Christ’s words in John 6 literally.  Also undergirding this view is the Catholic understanding of sacrifice and the continuation of the priesthood.  Each Lord’s Supper is another sacrifice, albeit an “unbloody” one. 

    The Lutheran view is very close to the Roman Catholic one, but with slight differences.  The Lutheran view is often referred to as “Consubstantiation”, denoting the idea of one substance being with or along side another.  This is typically explained in terms of Christ being “in, with and under” the elements.   The Lutheran doctrine is notoriously difficult to articulate.  On the one hand, they fully affirm that Christ is actually and physically present in the elements, that Christ is literally ingested through the mouth, and that the elements are really changed somehow.  And yet, on the other hand, they deny transubstantiation and the notion that the substance of the bread and wine actually change.  A metaphor that is used to explain this is a piece of iron that is placed in a fire.  When it comes out, every single molecule of the metal is changed in some way.  The metal is infused at every point with the heat of the fire.  And yet the substance of the metal has not changed. 

    Luther also took very seriously Christ’s words in the gospels, “this is my body” and “this is my blood.”  Although, historically, Lutherans have shied away from using John 6 as support for their view.  David P. Scaer (a Lutheran theologian) argues that that should change. 

    Lastly is the “Reformed” view.  Although many Reformed churches today follow Zwingli and the Memorialist view, the majority of Reformed churches since the Reformation have held this fourth view, which might simply be called Calvin’s view.  Calvin objected to the Roman Catholic view because it conferred a divine attribute, omnipresence, to the human nature of Christ.  He rejected the Lutheran view for this same reason, and also because he held to the axiom that the finite cannot contain the infinite, and therefore any theology of the Eucharist that claimed that Christ was actually contained within the elements must be rejected. 

    Still, however, Calvin took seriously the “real presence” of Christ in the Lord’s Supper, even going so far as to affirm that we do indeed partake of Christ’s flesh and blood.  How could this be?  Calvin understood that while the two natures of Christ were distinct, they were also inseparably joined.  This meant that even though Christ’s human nature is localized in Heaven, it is united to His divine nature, which is omnipresent.  Thus, by partaking of Christ’s divine nature (which is present in a special way during Communion), through the Holy Spirit, we are also partaking of His human nature.  Calvin readily admitted that this is a mystery beyond our comprehension.  In the same mystical way that Christ’s two natures are united, so we can mystically commune with and partake of Christ’s human nature through His divine nature, which is brought to the Supper and given to the believer by the Holy Spirit (interestingly, this focus on the Holy Spirit in Calvin's doctrine of the Lord's Supper bears some similarities to the Eastern Orthodox doctrine.  So much so, in fact, that both Catholic and Lutheran theologians have pointed this out.  In many ways, it actually seems as though the Eastern Orthodox doctrine of the Eucharist is closer to the Reformed view than to the Roman view.  This would be an interesting topic of exploration for another time). 

So, which view is the best (in my young and humble opinion)?  Stay tuned! 

(For a recap of the Memorialist view click here).