Is Sola Scriptura Enough?

A debate on Sola Scriptura between Douglas Wilson and Joe Heschmeyer

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Opening Statement (Wilson)

Let me begin by thanking the organizers of this event. I am very grateful, and appreciate the opportunity to discuss such a crucial issue.

So, is the Bible the sole infallible rule of faith?

I am happy to take the affirmative this evening, arguing that as a formal principle of all religious authority, Scripture is sufficient for all of our spiritual needs. This would encompass both the life of the individual Christian, and the life of the corporate body of Christ, the Church.

Let’s start with a definition. Here would be my definition of sola Scriptura, right out of the gate. Scripture alone, all 66 books, is the only spiritual authority in our lives that has the twin characteristics of ultimacy and infallibility. This is the only definition I am prepared to defend and/or argue for.

I begin here because there is a common distortion of the doctrine that I am not prepared to defend. Unfortunately, it is a view held by many contemporary evangelicals—who do this, even though it is wrong.

Sola Scriptura is not to be confused with solo Scriptura (a “just me and my Bible” approach”). Sola Scriptura means that the 66 books of Holy Scripture are authoritative in a believer’s life, and in the life of the Church, and that this authority is distinguished by two unique characteristics that other spiritual authorities do not have.

First, Scripture is the only ultimate and final authority, and secondly, Scripture is the only infallible authority.

There are other genuine religious authorities in our lives, and their secondary authority must not be dismissed as a nullity. These authorities would include parents, pastors, teachers, church councils, statements of faith, church tradition, and so forth. You might be surprised at my inclusion of tradition, but historic Protestants do believe in authoritative tradition—just not ultimate or infallible tradition. This was understood by the Baptist pastor who said, with a twinkle in his eye, “We Baptists don’t believe in tradition. It’s contrary to our historic position.”

So these subordinate authorities are not ultimate; appeal can be made past them to Scripture. And they are not infallible; they can be corrected by Scripture. The Church, using the regula fidei, which is derived from Scripture, interprets Scripture within the framework of this regula fidei. The content of the regula fidei would basically be the content of the Apostles Creed—which we at Christ Church recite weekly. In short, in English, we interpret Scripture in the light of the gospel.

So in the words of Keith Mathison, the doctrine I am defending here emerges as “natural, organic, medieval, and apostolic” (p. 11). Mathison again:

One last definitional point. I am not making this claim for mere cherry-picked portions of Scripture, or for snippets gathered from here and there. My claim involves tota et sola Scriptura—all of Scripture, front to back, side to side, top to bottom, and only Scripture.

A Brief Glossary of Terms

Tradition 0—this would be the solo Scriptura position, “just me and my Bible.”

Tradition I—this would the position of the Reformers, and also of the early church (as I would argue, through the first three centuries). The Scriptures are the sole material basis for doctrine, to be interpreted by the Church in the light of the gospel.

Tradition II—this is the view that the Christian owes equal respect to Scripture on the one hand, and a handed-down oral tradition on the other. Unwritten ecclesiastical traditions have here assumed an authoritative role. This starts to take shape with Basil the Great, and it is possible that Augustine held this view.

Tradition III—this is a recent development among Roman Catholic theologians, where there is only a single source of revelation, that being the present Roman magisterium. In other words, whatever the Church is currently saying is authoritative and binding.

A strong case can be made that the Reformers held consistently to Tradition I. The position of the early Church, and much of the medieval Church, and the magisterial Reformers, was that Scripture was the sole source of revelation. The Bible was the final and authoritative norm for both doctrine and practice. Scripture was to be interpreted in and by the Church, and the key to that interpretation was the gospel as represented by the regula fidei.

I am proceeding on the assumption that this debate tonight is between Tradition I and Tradition II. We would both agree that Scripture is God-breathed and perfect in every respect, and we both agree that there is an authoritative tradition in the Church. Our differences would boil down to two issues. First, is there an uncorrupted apostolic tradition, apart from the Scriptures, that we are required to accept by faith? And secondly, is there a particular church body that is infallibly guided by God in discerning and identifying this tradition? 

What this debate boils down to is this—when it comes to teaching the people of God what God wants us to know, does the Church hew the stones of truth from one quarry or from two? The Protestant says one (Tradition I, Scripture alone), and the Roman Catholic says there are two quarries (Tradition II, Scripture, together with the unwritten traditions handed down from the apostles).

Lack of Specificity in Tradition II

Now my first argument is straightforward. I do not believe in Tradition II, and would advance an excellent reason for not doing so in that advocates of Tradition II don’t really believe in it either.

One of the easy ways that you can tell that I am defending sola Scriptura is that I am willing to define for you what it is that I am calling Scripture. Notice that I have set precise boundaries—66 books—for the source of the authority I am pointing to and defending. Everyone in this audience should know by this point that I would submit to the authority of Deuteronomy, Isaiah, Matthew, and Romans. I would not submit to the Gospel of Thomas, the Shepherd of Hermas, or Tobit. Protestants who defend sola Scriptura have a Table of Contents that they can and do point to, and then we say, “This is what I am talking about.” The Table of Contents sets the limits of the debate, and it has the virtue of being a clear debate.

But why is there no corresponding Table of Contents to guide us through the traditions of the Church? If we need the traditions of the Church, wouldn’t it follow that we would also need to know what they are and where they are actually located? What would you think of a Protestant apologist who said he was prepared to defend anything that was stated in any of the books of the Bible and then, when he was asked which books those might be, he got suddenly coy and said, “Not telling”?

According to Tradition II, God’s revelation comes to us in two forms, written and oral—sacred Scripture and sacred tradition together form one sacred deposit, which is divine. But why are we given the precise boundaries for the first part—although the Catholic boundaries here are admittedly a bit larger, 73 books—and no boundaries for the second part? 

How can tradition be an infallible guide when the very first thing I discover is that I need an infallible guide to take me around in search of that tradition? Mathison is correct: “Tradition is far more difficult to interpret than Scripture” (Mathison, p. 213). Shoot, it is difficult to find.

I mean, there are different kinds of traditions, and different levels. Tradition is an umbrella term, and it is a huge umbrella. There is apostolic tradition, which would naturally be infallible. Then there is ecclesiastical tradition, which is teaching that is consistent with Scripture, and apostolic tradition, but then also with other councils and church fathers. And only the Church has the authority to teach us about all of this, which brings us to the magisterium. This would be the teaching of the pontiff, or of the councils in union with the pope. And the history of the magisterium has left us a document trail, first of the ordinary magisterium—the result of the ordinary teaching responsibilities of popes and bishops. Then there is the extraordinary magisterium, meaning the solemn teaching of popes and councils. Throw into the mix the teaching of various saints and scholars down through the ages, men like Thomas Aquinas, a doctor of the Church. There would also be the universal ordinary magisterium, which would be doctrines that are universally accepted by everyone that mattered. And last, I am sure we would have to include pronouncements of the pope when they were spoken ex cathedra.

But I have simple question here. How many times has the pope actually done that? Does anybody know? Is there an authoritative list of the ex cathedra pronouncements? Some Roman theologians say there have only been two. Some say more. Where can I go to sort this out? An authority that does not speak into the microphone cannot really function as a genuine authority.

If you take a phrase like the “tradition of the church,” and if you look at it closely, you are looking at something on a dimmer switch, and not a binary toggle switch. Where must I look to find my much-needed infallibility? A pious Roman Catholic who wants to submit to the tradition of the Church has an arduous task in front of him because the first thing he must do is find it.

This is a very practical problem, and let me give an example of what I mean. Unam Sanctam teaches that Muslims as Muslims cannot be saved. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (p. 223) teaches that they can be: “The plan of salvation also includes those who acknowledge the Creator, in the first place amongst whom are the Muslims . . .” Now I have two dissenting voices coming from within that jammed room that we might call Tradition Hall, and so I need somebody to set me straight. Which one of those authorities is correct? But when a guide shows up to tell me, I realize that the only thing I can consistently do is to shove him into that room too.

“Rome has never been able to definitively indicate to anyone exactly what all of these supposed unwritten traditions are . . . Rome has never definitively provided a ‘canon’ of the ‘God-breathed’ and authoritatively binding unwritten traditions . . . Since the statements of the Church are not ‘God-breathed,’ and since there are no surviving ‘God-breathed’ unwritten traditions to which one can point with any certainty, the Scripture is the only place to which any of us can turn for authoritative ‘God-breathed’ revelation” (Mathison, p. 167). 

In sum, Tradition II lacks the specificity needed to enable us even to evaluate it as a claim. The only reason that this debate tonight is even a possibility is that the Protestant side has defined boundaries, Genesis to Revelation. If we defined Scripture the way Catholicism defines tradition, the debate tonight would not be very exciting—the collision of two banks of fog.

Protestant or Just Human?

My second main argument is that Roman Catholic apologists have a tendency to take an ordinary human dilemma, and turn it into a uniquely Protestant problem. As I put it in my book on all of this:

A good deal of shade is cast over “personal judgment,” or “private interpretation,” as it is called. It is argued that we cannot resort to the Scriptures alone because we need an interpreter. This need is supplied by the Church. But this does not rid us of private interpretation, but rather just pushes us back one step. How do we interpret the Church?

My first argument had to do with how we find the thing to be interpreted. But this next argument is epistemological—a real hermeneutical dilemma. Assuming we found that source of truth, or that sacred text, or that infallible interpreter, how can we get at what it is saying apart from private interpretation? If you are considering becoming a Roman Catholic, you will discover upon entry that personal judgment hasn’t gone anywhere. 

Scripture comes to us in human language, which is said to be beyond me. I need an authoritative interpreter. But how does this interpreter come to me? He comes to me in human language also. Why isn’t this beyond me also? This is truly challenging, and it is made even murkier by my first objection—the blurriness caused by the Table of Contents problem. I am just a private individual. Should I listen to Father Murphy, the Latin rite guy? Sister Suzy the feminist? The Catholic Catechism? Unam Sanctam? But once you have picked one, what does it mean “to listen?” That is a hermeneutical question that dogs every mother’s son of us. It has nothing whatever to do with Protestantism.

No matter who you are, all your choices always come down to private interpretation. Who decides whether to join the Catholic church or not?  You do. Who decides whether to leave the Catholic church or not? You do. Who decides what Paul is talking about in Romans? You do. Who decides what your parish priest means when he is talking about Romans? You do. This is not the Protestant dilemma. To the extent it is a dilemma, and I don’t think it is, it would be the human dilemma.

Christ is the Way

These are challenging issues, and perhaps working through them is making your head hurt. But I would not want anybody walking away from this debate with the attitude of “oh, what’s the use?”

The text of Scripture, and of Scripture alone, is very important, as I trust you have gathered. But we should want to have a high view of Scripture without becoming the bibliolaters that Jesus rebuked. They studied the Scriptures so closely that they missed the entire point of the Scriptures.

However important the doctrine of Scripture is, and it is very important, it is also crucial that we see it as the right kind of important. There is a vast difference between the man who stares at the Bible as though it were a static mural. No. We are not supposed to come to the Bible in order to look at it. Rather, it is a plate glass window—not something to look at, but rather something to look through.

If you are on a spiritual journey, I would invite you to come to the Scriptures, not as a historical curiosity, but rather as a window that God has provided for a lost and wandering humanity. He gave us this window so that we could look through it, and see Jesus Christ on the other side. If you are a searcher, I would invite you to start with the gospel of Mark.

If you do this trusting God, you will see Him in His manifested glory—incarnate, crucified, buried, raised, and lifted up into Heaven, where He is interceding for us now.

Thank you very much.