Book
review
When Politics Becomes Heresy: The Idol of Power and the Gospel of Christ. By Tim Perry.
Bellingham, Washington: Lexham Press, 2025. 202 pages.
Reviewed by Hendrik van der Breggen
Tim Perry’s When Politics Becomes Heresy laments
evangelical churches mirroring the political polarization of contemporary
culture, observes that many evangelical Christians are turning politics into an
idol, and calls those evangelicals to repent. To which I say: Amen!
In this review I will do the following: (1) talk
briefly about the book’s author; (2) set out some general comments about
Perry’s book; (3) discuss heresies in general; (4) look in detail at two of the
five specific heresies examined by Perry and look briefly at the other three.
As readers of this review will see, I am
basically in agreement with pretty much all of Perry’s book. This (lengthy) review,
then, will provide readers with an extensive overview of the book along with
some detailed highlights—to whet the reader’s appetite to study Perry’s book.
My conclusion: Buy Perry’s book, read it
carefully, and take its message to heart. Jesus—the real Jesus—comes first, not
politics.
In a postscript I set out a list of (and links
to) other reviews of Perry’s book and a couple of author interviews, for
additional thought.
1.
About Tim Perry
Rev. Dr. Perry is an Anglican priest in the
Diocese of Algoma (an ecclesiastical district in Ontario, Canada) and is Lead Pastor
at St. Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church (Steinbach, Manitoba, Canada). Dr.
Perry was a professor of theology at Providence University College and
Seminary, and is an adjunct professor of theology at Saint Paul University,
Trinity Anglican Seminary, and Tyndale Seminary. Perry’s PhD is from Durham
University (England), and he has authored or edited several academic books. He has
also written articles for academic journals as well as popular Christian
magazines. All this to say: Tim Perry has a keen mind and a pastor’s heart—and
I respect him greatly.
Confession for the sake of transparency: My wife
and I, along with one of our sons and one of our daughters-in-law, attend St.
Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Steinbach. So Tim Perry is our pastor.
(My wife and I occasionally attend another church, too, so we can be with our
other son and daughter-in-law and our grandchildren.) Tim is also a dear friend
of mine (ours) and at various times in the past (before I retired) we were
colleagues at Providence University College and Seminary.
Promise: I will do my best not to let my
positive and favourable personal view of Tim impinge on the objectivity of my (positive)
review of his book!
2.
General comments
Perry’s book is written humbly (the author is
always aware of his own politically idolatrous tendencies) and the book is short.
Nevertheless, it packs a double punch (my words). It is (1) a crash course in early
Church history vis-à-vis heresies (which in itself is a very good reason for studying
this book), and (2) a much-needed pricking of conscience concerning one’s
possible heretical/ idolatrous attitudes to contemporary politics (which is
also a very good reason for studying this book). Perry explains, in gentler terms, the purpose
of these punches: “This book is not an argument as much as an invitation to see
things in a certain way: to read late modern North American evangelicalism
through the lenses provided by the classical heresies. Its object is to show that
the heresies illuminate something about our situation that has thus far not
been considered sufficiently seriously.” (Perry, When Politics Become Heresy, page 93; hereafter references to
Perry’s book will simply be the letter P followed by page number.)
Perry sets out five heresies from the early
centuries of Christianity and shows how attractive and reasonable—tempting—they
were long ago. And he argues that these heresies have shape-shifted over time
and context, making them temptations once again today, for us. Perry treats the
heretics sympathetically and
respectfully (heretics are, after all, persons made in God’s image), but is
critical of their misguided ideas—heresies—which
are deeply problematic. Perry demonstrates well that we can respect the person
with whom we disagree, while we assess his/her ideas.
I must say that Perry’s reporting of how Christians
of old discerned heresies made me freshly appreciate the wisdom and keen intellectual
gifts of the early Church. Significantly, I also found that Perry’s careful
engagement with the old heresies helped me get additional clarity on biblical truth,
which is a great benefit. In an important sense we are deeply indebted to heretics.
By having truth challenged, we can more readily appreciate truth. As Perry
points out, “heretics…force the church to clarify, deepen, and develop sound
doctrine.” (P 151)
The heresies of the past are today different in
their particularities (more on this below), but sadly—and alarmingly—they remain
similar in their replacement of the Gospel with an idol. And today that idol is
political power.
As Perry rightly emphasises, politics, i.e., our
God-given ability to order our lives together, is a good, but it is not the
good. Yet for many people in today’s
culture (at least in the West) having the right politics has replaced religion
as the transcendent good. In today’s culture, Perry points out, “Politics is
everything and everything is politics.” (P 20) As seems to be clear—Perry takes
it as obvious—this heretical turn to political idolatry occurs too frequently
today by many evangelical Christians. And Perry argues—and, I quickly add, here
all Christians should now get
uncomfortable in their pews—this idolatry is the case whether the re-emerging
ancient Christian heresies (or echoes thereof) are held by Christians on the
political right or by Christians on the political left.
In other words, Perry’s book rises above the
fray of “left-bashing” or “right-bashing” and is, so to speak, an equal-opportunity
offender. Perry grieves over the sad situation in contemporary evangelical Christianity,
confesses personal guilt over having sometimes committed such idolatry, and he lovingly—and
firmly—calls fellow Christians to repent. In particular, Christian pastors,
leaders, and scholars should take heed, whether they lean left or right
politically. I, for one, had to pause and prayerfully take stock of my own
idolatrous inclinations vis-à-vis my own political thinking and engagements,
and I am grateful to Perry for this.
Aside from the deeply personal call to
evangelicals to evaluate their political involvements and repent of possible
political idolatry, When Politics Becomes
Heresy is largely a catalogue of heresies. The book is a careful historical
examination of how five important heresies long ago came to exist in the first
place and how they, or at least their logic/ patterns of thinking, manifest
themselves today. The book also offers advice on how to respond to the heresies
in their current forms. As I mentioned, the book is a crash course in Church
history vis-à-vis heresies. So this book
should be useful in Christian colleges as a supplemental textbook in logic and
critical thinking courses (to enlarge the typical catalogues of fallacies to
include ancient fallacies/ heresies) and this book should be placed in church
libraries (to help parishioners who wish to think more deeply and biblically,
with an eye to church history and the church’s discernment of core Christian
doctrines in the face of serious disagreements). As Perry emphasizes, it is
important for Christians, whether left-leaning or right-leaning in their
politics, to remember the wisdom of the church past, remember its language and
insights, and take all this to heart today—and repent of political idolatry.
A limitation of the book should be noted and
made clear, in case readers are expecting more from Perry’s book than Perry
intends. Perry’s book is not a critique of specific political policies, whether
from the political right or the political left (though sometimes Perry touches
on this). Rather, Perry’s book is more modest and, I believe, more important:
it’s about keeping first things first. Jesus
is first, politics is not. In an interview about his book, Perry clarifies:
“Beyond recognizing the secondary goodness of our political life and
participating in the ordering of our life together in the wider society, I
don’t have a whole lot to say about that. The book is an invitation to people
to join me in repenting of making politics the most important thing.”[1]
3.
About heresies in general
As mentioned, Perry has written his book to deal
with present-day manifestations of the logic or echoes of ancient heresies.
According to Perry, the present-day feature of these heresies is this: contemporary
evangelicalism has embraced the “primacy of politics” and is succumbing to a
“peculiar kind of worldliness.” (P 21)
It may be helpful at this juncture, then, to
clarify the notion of heresy. As I already indicated, a heresy is a fallacy. A
fallacy is a mistake in reasoning/ thinking. But a heresy is worse. Much worse. In Christian context a heresy is an
instance of the fallacy of misrepresenting a hugely significant truth with a
falsehood. It is a serious error. And bad. Very bad. Hellishly bad. As Perry
rightly points out, heresy violates or lessens the importance of the core truth claim, or significant
aspects of the core truth claim, of Christianity’s
Gospel message. And the Gospel message is no trivial matter. In fact, it is of
utmost importance not only for Christians, but also for the world.
Reminder: According to the Gospel, Jesus is the
God of the universe who became flesh (a human being), walked among us, was
killed on a cross, and subsequently rose to life bodily (physically), and Jesus’
death and resurrection provide salvation for sinners by faith.[2] Because of
heresy, Perry points out, “the Jesus of the Scriptures and ecumenical creeds
has been misplaced.” (P 3)
Heresies, then, should be exposed, refuted, and
avoided. Like everyday fallacies, they are shape-shifters and persist in new
times and contexts. But unlike mere fallacies, the avoidance of heresies
involves, as Perry makes clear, more
than a mere intellectual change of mind, though change (renewal) of mind is hugely
important. Along with an intellectual change of mind toward truth (a change of
mind informed by evidence, reason, and truth), it also involves a turning of a
stubborn sinful heart/will in submission to Him who is The Truth. If there is a spiritual dimension in discerning and avoiding
fallacious thinking in general in one’s pursuit of truth (and I believe there
is, and I believe Perry believes this, too, though Perry doesn’t explicitly
discuss this in his book), then this is all the more true with regard to heresies
that block the most important Truth (as I believe Perry would agree). In a word, turning from heresy requires repentance.
4.
Specific heresies
Let’s look at the five heresies Perry sets out,
and let’s look at what Perry suggests concerning how repentance should take
place. I will look at the first two in considerable detail because I think they
are most important, and I will look only briefly at the other three. The other
three are important, too, but I will leave it to readers to investigate them in
greater detail (that is, when they purchase Perry’s book for themselves and for
their church and college libraries). The five heresies are these: (a) Simony,
(b) Gnosticism, (c) Arianism, (d) Pelagianism, (e) Donatism.
The heresy of Simony serves as a genus (or overall/general
heresy) of which the others are species (particular instances of the more
general heresy). This is important to remember, so we can keep in mind the
major problem lurking behind the other heresies. The major problem for us today
is the replacement of Jesus as Lord with the idol of power.
(a)
Simony
Simony gets its name from Simon Magus, a.k.a.
Simon the Sorcerer, who makes his appearance in chapter 8 of the Book of Acts
in the New Testament. Simon practiced magic and he seriously amazed many people
in Samaria, whether of low or high social status, and he seemed to have
garnered quite a following. And he
boasted of himself as someone great. As it turns out, as Acts tells us, when the
Apostle Philip comes to Samaria to preach of God’s kingdom and Jesus the Christ,
Simon is very impressed with the miraculous signs that accompany Philip’s preaching.
And, as Acts suggests, Simon seems to have become a follower of Jesus. Later, however,
when Peter and John arrive and place their hands on those who earlier believed
Philip’s message and who now receive the Holy Spirit, Simon is even more impressed—so
impressed that Simon offers money to Peter and John to buy their ability to lay
hands on people to bring to them the anointing of the Holy Spirit. Peter and John
sternly rebuke Simon and tell him to repent of this sin.
What, specifically, is that sin? Perry explains:
Simon’s story is ultimately very sad and indeed
has been symbolically replayed from the first century to the twenty-first countless
times. It is the tale of the “not-quite-convert,” someone looking for an angle
to advance themselves and trying to fit the gospel of the risen Lord into that
agenda…. Simon’s sin is, simply, the failure to acknowledge Christ’s claim over
his world and life, hoping instead to fit Christ into his own self-directed
agenda. (P 37)
Simon the Sorcerer was apparently hoping to use
the Holy Spirit for his (Simon’s) own ends, to continue amazing others and
enriching himself thereby. The sin, then, of Simon the Sorcerer—the Simony heresy—is
to demote Jesus as Lord and instead make Jesus one’s servant. It is the sin of
putting one’s self and one’s projects above God. It is to violate the first and
greatest commandment: love God. (As we will see, the four other heresies
examined in Perry’s book are variants of Simony.)
Simony in medieval church history manifested
itself via, for example, a powerful family purchasing a church office/position
for the sake of seeking political influence for that family with the then-politically-powerful
church. The medieval church was selling itself to Simon, in other words. Simony
today is the attempt by the not-so-powerful church (or parts of it or its members)
to purchase secular political influence by using the church to promote a
political cause instead of proclaiming the Gospel. Today’s church is again
selling itself to Simon. Perry explains the logic as follows: “We have reversed
the dynamic of kings and emperors approaching bishops and popes but otherwise
left it completely intact.” (P 51)
How, more specifically, does the heresy of
Simony manifest itself today in our politically polarized context? Perry
answers: “the language and action of devotion has been transferred to objects
in this world: the climate, the homeland, justice (pick a cause), science, whatever.”
(P 46) Perry adds: “in our current discourse, these political issues have
usurped God’s place in the temples of our hearts.” (P 47) When a political
issue is more important to us than the Gospel, we are idolaters. And we are
heretics. We commit Simony.
Perry avoids providing examples from the
political left and political right, to avoid left-bashing or right-bashing, by instead
providing clues for when we should be
on the alert for Simony in politics, whether it’s Simony of the right or Simony
of the left. (Readers will have to examine their hearts to determine whether their
lives display any of these clues.) These clues are found in practices “that
know no side and are claimed by all.” (P 47)
Here is one such clue/practice: “When the Bible
is deployed to speak immediately to a modern political matter, as though there
is absolutely no room for reflection or disagreement, be on the alert for
Simony.” (P 47) Perry presents care for the poor as a helpful illustration.
Yes, the Bible clearly calls Christians to care for “the widow, the orphan, and
the stranger” (Deuteronomy 10:18–19). We are all called to be generous in our care for the less fortunate. This
is true and should be our goal. But the fact remains that the Bible is silent
on how to best achieve that goal. This
implies there can be legitimate disagreement among Christians about the means,
whether via government wealth re-distribution programmes (left-leaning
politics) or via private wealth creation and encouragements to job creation and
charitable giving (right-leaning politics) or something in between. There is
room for reasonable good-faith disagreement, in other words. If one thinks not,
then one may be elevating politics over Gospel. One may be committing Simony.
Perry elaborates and clarifies well, so I will
quote him in extenso:
Immigration, welfare reform, climate change,
you name it: they all are indirectly
addressed by the Bible’s call for care for the poor and the sharing of covenant
blessings. But when someone, whether a preacher or a politician, an activist or
lobbyist, insists that the biblical
response to any of these social problems is theirs, such that those who
disagree with them are not only mistaken but also sinful, and not merely
sinful, but wicked, somewhere in a hot corner of hell Simon chuckles. For the
Scriptures are being pressed to address a problem of which they know nothing. The
Bible is ignorant of refugee crises such as we know them today; it knows nothing
of the modern nation state or modern border policy; it knows nothing of the tax
code; it certainly knows nothing of ice caps and CO2 levels. It is entirely
possible for believers, whose faith in the Scriptures as the revealed word of
God is common and whose biblical concern for the poor of our communities and
our world is equally fervent, to come to very different answers regarding how
best to address any of these issues in particular. When the Bible is misused to
make difficult and complex issues seem easy, it is being used to browbeat faithful
people into coming to a solution prematurely. It is deploying the language of
faith to secure a position in politics. It is Simony. (P 48–49)[3]
Another clue/practice that suggests Simony: Cherry-picking
Bible verses in service of a cause held for other prior and assumed to be more
important reasons instead of taking the full counsel of Scripture. Here Perry
points to the marriage debate popular within contemporary Christianity. Perry
writes:
It is amazing to me just how easily, in the
popular Christian arguments over marriage, all sides took for granted that the
primary—if not exclusive—purpose of marriage is the sanctification of sexual
desire, as though procreation and companionship were somehow lesser or even
optional goals. To that shared assumption, Bible verses appropriate to the
speakers’ own preference were then attached. This expression of sexual desire
is licit and therefore ought to be blessed. Or not. And, presumably, whoever has
the greater number or better quality of Bible verses wins. (P 49)
Perry goes on:
But, in popular debates at least, rarely was the
question-begging of these sorts of arguments pointed out: Who says the
sanctification of sexual desire is the primary, or sole, purpose of marriage?
Precious little was written about matters that the Bible considers to be very
serious: the protection of women, the procreation and raising of children, the
uniqueness of Christian marriage over against other forms from the ancient
world, or marriage as a sacrament of Christ’s spousal union with the church,
and so on. Attention to any of these could have been helpful in reframing the
debate for all concerned. (P 49–50)[4]
Perry’s solution for Simony? Prudence.
Perry encourages Christians to “slow down” (P
53) and “fix our eyes on Christ” (P 55). Yes, this sounds like something an old
Sunday school teacher might advise—keep in mind Perry is a pastor—but it is
still sound advice. Prudence, according to Perry, means we should read Scriptures
slowly and carefully, seek wisdom cautiously from those with relevant expertise
(keeping in mind that experts can be ideologically influenced, so we should be extra cautious), and take time to deliberate—all
the while seeking Christ’s wisdom over our own. If there is a whiff of Simony,
that is, if we are guilty in any small way of “rendering unto Caesar what
belongs to God in order to obtain or retain Caesar’s status and approval” (P
58), which is to seek our agenda over
God’s, then we must repent. Yes, we should
be a Christ-like influence on our culture—Perry does not at all disagree!—but the
key to such influence is first to seek
and obey Christ. We must keep Jesus as Lord and let our politics flow from that.
Not the reverse. Keep first things first.
As previously mentioned, the other heresies—Gnosticism,
Arianism, Pelagianism, and Donatism—are variations or species of Simony. As not
previously mentioned, they tag along with Simony. In other words (mine), Simony
is not a lone wolf. Or, as Perry puts it, “Heresies, like demons, don’t come to
inhabit houses all by themselves.” (P 64)
Let’s take a detailed look at Gnosticism and then some brief looks at
Arianism, Pelagianism, and Donatism.
(b)
Gnosticism
Whereas Simony stems from Simon the Sorcerer who
was a spiritual thorn in the side of the Apostle Philip, the heresy of Gnosticism
manifested itself in early Christianity via a lesser-known yet influential fellow
named Cerinthus, a contemporary of the Apostle John. In fact, as Perry points
out, Cerinthus was the personal nemesis of the Apostle John. (Interestingly, John
ran out of a public bathhouse/pool without bathing to avoid Cerinthus for fear that
God might destroy that bathhouse because Cerinthus was in it!) John’s writings in
the New Testament, in which John emphasizes that Jesus is God in human flesh
(see John 1:1–3, 14) and that the God-man Jesus was actually seen, heard, and
touched (1 John 1:1–3), were in large measure a reply to Cerinthus’s gnostic heretical
teaching.
According to Cerinthus, Jesus was not God in human flesh. Why not? Because
Cerinthus held to a popular philosophical-theological worldview of his culture:
Gnosticism. To make Jesus appealing to culture, Cerinthus
interpreted—misrepresented—Jesus according
to culture.
Gnosticism goes something like this (note: Gnostics
tend to differ over some matters, but the following description is generally
accurate): there is a radical separation between the spiritual realm and the
material realm; God resides only in the higher realm of being of pure spirit, which
is good, whereas the lower realm of being consists of matter, which is ignoble
or base (some even say it’s evil); the physical-material world (our world) is the
flawed catastrophic creation not of God but of some lesser spiritual being’s
fumbling (this lesser being/creator is sometimes known as the “demiurge,” but,
again, is not God); somehow due to the lesser being’s fumbling, some “sparks” of
the divine spirit got trapped in the lower realm of matter—inside human
physical bodies.
Significantly, this worldview was not original or
peculiar to Cerinthus. As Perry points out, the view is “heavily indebted to
Platonic and Neoplatonic thought, Jewish apocalypticism, and Pythagorean
mysticism, among other sources.” (P 68) The view sounds odd to us today, but it
was not odd for Christian gnostics like Cerinthus. By holding to Gnosticism, they
“were swimming in the thought-ocean of their day, entirely at home.” (P 68)
So for Cerinthus and his fellow Gnostics the
idea of God taking on flesh—God becoming a physical
human being—was dead in the water. Worse: it couldn’t even float. That is to
say, the idea that Jesus is the Incarnation of God was at the get-go philosophically
and theologically inconceivable as well as in fact impossible. As a result,
Cerinthus and company, reflecting the zeitgeist of their day, interpreted—misrepresented—the
disciples’ teachings about Jesus in Gnostic terms. Cerinthus and company
adopted the culture and applied it to Christianity. Jesus is special only in
the sense of being “an emissary from the aeons.” (P69) (An aeon is some sort of emanation from the fullness of the divine/
spiritual realm, also known as pleroma;
see P 64–70.)
The problem or predicament for humanity, according
to Gnosticism, was that humans are hybrid creatures of spirit (good) and matter
(not good). That is, we are divine (not mere image bearers of God, per Christianity),
the material world is a flawed not-good creation (not a good-but-fallen
creation, per Christianity), and our trapped spirit needs to escape the dreadful
physical realm and return to the pure and good heavenly/ spiritual realm (no
resurrection of the body, per Christianity).
How? Not, according to Gnostics, via the
teachings of Jesus’ unenlightened apostles (i.e., Jesus’ first followers and eye-witnesses),
who taught that Jesus was God in the flesh who suffered and died on the cross
for our sins and who then defeated death by resurrecting physically, thereby
saving us. Again, for Jesus to be God Incarnate—God in human flesh—was
inconceivable and impossible. Moreover, according to Gnostics, sin is not our
problem, and so there was no need for repentance or a saviour. Rather, ignorance is our problem. For Gnostics salvation
is through gnosis, that is, knowledge.
Not a knowledge gotten by our ordinary evidence-and-reason-based knowing, but a
secret mystical knowledge, a deeply-subjective knowledge gotten (allegedly) directly
from the spiritual realm. This teaching was (allegedly) passed from Jesus (who
isn’t God in the flesh, but only an aeonic medium) to the gnostic elites but
not to Jesus’ culturally-not-with-it apostles. Via esoteric mystical teachings and
rituals taught by the Gnostics, humans can “know” they have the divine spark. And
because of this “knowledge” we can leave the tombs of our physical bodies at
death (contrary to our being resurrected physically as Jesus was, as John and
the other witnesses to Jesus claimed of Jesus) and we can return to the pure
and good heavenly realm.
All this to say that, in effect, Cerinthus and
fellow Gnostics conformed the apostles’
Gospel message to the Gnostic thought-patterns of the culture of their time.
Instead of Cerinthus and company converting culture for the true Christ (i.e., Jesus
who is God in the flesh, who walked among us, who was killed on a cross for our
sins, and who physically resurrected, and to and about whom the early witnesses
testified), the anti-Christ Gnostic culture converted Cerinthus and company. And
their goal was to convert the early church to that culture, too. The Gnostics’ logic
of swimming with the cultural current
instead of swimming against the
cultural current, and in the process drowning
the true Gospel message, is, according to Perry, re-occurring today, but with a
political twist.
The political twist is that we are making
politics primary and Gospel secondary, and the Gospel has become secondary
because it has become primarily personal. Following culture, matters of
importance have become mere matters of opinion. Subjectivity has become
elevated and has trumped objectivity. And the evangelical Gnostics’ goal is to
convert other evangelicals to their politics.
To help the reader understand the Gnostic
goings-on in our time, Perry helpfully compares today’s Christian church’s turn-to-subjectivity
to the apologetic strategy of Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1884). Schleiermacher
faced Enlightenment/ modern criticism of Christianity’s doctrines and
foundational miracles, criticism by the likes of David Hume (1711–1776) and Immanuel
Kant (1724–1824), criticism that allegedly rendered false or irrational the
objective truth claims of the Gospel, leaving mere subjectivity in its wake.[5]
Schleiermacher responded by embracing subjectivity, too. For Schleiermacher, what
was crucial for Christianity and religion in general was merely “the feeling of
absolute dependence on God.” (P 82) Religious experience—feeling—not evidence
coupled with reason was more important than doctrine. Via Schleiermacher, in other
words, Enlightenment culture was embraced, as Cerinthus embraced Gnostic
culture, and in the process core Christian doctrines were forsaken. The
Gnostics’ logic of swimming with the
cultural current instead of swimming against
the cultural current, and thereby drowning
the true Gospel message, was manifesting itself in the work of Schleiermacher.
And, as Perry points out, Schleiermacher “effectively created liberal
Protestantism.” (P82)
Like Schleiermacher—and the earlier Gnostics—many
in today’s Christian church have embraced the thought patterns of a culture that
elevates the subjective over the objective. For many, feelings trump reality. Think
of the popularity in some Christian circles (a popularity now waning, thankfully)
of the “trans” phenomenon and its pseudo-Gnostic justification that one’s feeling about being in the wrong body is
regarded as more veridical than the actuality of one’s material body. Perry sketches relatively recent effects of the
subjective turn of which one is what sociologists Christian Smith and Melinda
Lundquist Denton in 2005 aptly called Moral Therapeutic Deism. “In this
religion, God was remote and largely uninvolved in one’s life (deism) but was
available when needed to raise one’s self-esteem or supply a need (therapeutic);
its adherents were, above all else, nice (moralistic).” (P 79) Perry adds:
“According to Smith’s data, Jewish and Christian, Protestant and Catholic,
evangelical and mainline young people were Moral Therapeutic Deists before anything
else.” (P 80) Subsequently, more and more people (at least in the West)
relegated Christianity to just another personal opinion—a personal gnosis.
Significantly, this turn to personal gnosis was
aided and abetted by the fact that many contemporary Christians “bowed the knee
to the postmodern Baal.” (P 81) (Reminder to readers: In the Old Testament,
Baal is a Canaanite deity the worship of whom is in no uncertain terms
condemned by Yahweh.) The nature of our postmodern Baal—our cultural zeitgeist—is
well summarized by Google AI: “a rejection of grand narratives and objective
truth, a focus on subjectivity and relativism, and a skepticism towards reason
and traditional authority.”[6] In the absence of objective Gospel truth and a
developed social teaching based on objective Gospel truth, for many
evangelicals today the void is filled with politics becoming paramount—an idol.
The result: power is Lord.
The heresy of Gnosticism is replayed today in the
sense that many Evangelicals are swimming with
the culture and letting culture dictate what’s most important. For many
evangelicals, politics has become primary, whereas Jesus—the objectively true
Jesus—has become secondary. Culture is again Lord, as was the case with Cerinthus
and fellow Gnostics (and Schleiermacher).
Perry’s solution for Gnosticism? Realism.
Perry rightly recommends a return to reality, that
is, an embrace of the true and biblical view of the world. This return involves,
according to Perry, a fourfold understanding of realism.
First, we should embrace realism regarding the
natural world. This involves a return to two biblical assumptions. “First, the
world outside our minds exists and is ordered in such a way that it can be
known. Second, our minds, when they are functioning properly, can know it.” (P
83) We should embrace science done well, keeping in mind its tentative nature and
its vulnerability to human foibles and social influences.
Second, we should embrace realism regarding
morals. There is objective value that is part and parcel of God’s creation, which
can be known by all. C. S. Lewis called this “the Tao.” As Perry points out,
“Lewis’s Tao, simply, is the law of God written on the fabric of the universe
and in every human heart.” (P 85) Of course, Perry adds, we should be aware that
“We’re also sinners who willfully embrace blindness.” (P 86). In other words
(mine), we sinners should be aware that we seem able and willing to smudge or
perhaps erase what’s written on our hearts. As one wag has said: The writing on
our hearts may have been written with a pencil.
Third, we should embrace biblical realism. That
is, we should regain “the conviction that the great story of God’s search for humanity
as narrated in the Bible simply is the truth.” (P 86) The Bible isn’t a mere “handbook
that offers wisdom to otherwise happy lives,” as gnostic evangelicals seem to
believe. (P 87) Rather, the Bible’s “purpose is to absorb the world, to tell the
truth about it, and to call it and us to repentance.” (P 87) In other words, we
must remember that the Bible is a better story than other meta-narratives
because it is the objectively true and more deeply truthful story—a story that accurately
describes the human predicament and calls us to repent and follow Jesus. Not
just any Jesus, but the true Jesus, which leads to Perry’s next and most
important point.
Fourth, we should embrace Christological
realism. “That is, the Scriptures testify about Jesus Christ, and the Christ
given to us by the Scriptures is the real Jesus.” (P 87) And these Scriptures
include not only the New Testament but also the Old Testament. We must seek
first the kingdom of God and his righteousness (Matthew 6:33). Our priority
must be Jesus.
Perry recommends that our apologetics for
realism be directed at “believers from the margins,” i.e., those who are not
ideologically possessed (not completely deluded) by Gnosticism/Postmodernism
and do not “hold a cultural cache sufficient to define that [gnostic/postmodern]
world and to enthrall its inhabitants.” (P 89) In other words, our apologetics
for realism should be directed at those who sense “there is another, better,
real world on offer.” (P 89) In other words again, our apologetics for realism
should be directed at those who thirst for truth (Isaiah 55:1, John 7:37).
And our politics
should be secondary: an outworking of
our repentance and following the true Jesus. We as Christians can follow the
true Jesus by being light and salt, and thereby influence politics in the
direction of goodness and truth, and we can do so without committing political
idolatry. The key is to believe Jesus is
God and follow Him; we should not make Jesus our servant.[7]
(c)
Arianism
Arius (256–336 AD) denied that Jesus is the
God-man by arguing that Jesus is, rather, a created albeit exalted creature.
Jesus is the Son of God but not God the Son, according to Arius. Only the Father
is God. Perry is truly helpful in portraying Arius and his reasoning in a
sympathetic light (I confess that prior to reading Perry I tended to think,
mistakenly, that Arius was just a plain and nasty villain). Perry is also truly
helpful in showing how the reasoning of Athanasius (c. 328–373) and others
wisely and rightly corrected the Arian heresy. As I mentioned in the
introduction of this review, Perry’s reporting of how Christians of old handled
heresies made me appreciate the wisdom and keen gifts of discernment of the
early Church.[8]
How does Arius’s heresy raise its head today in
evangelicalism? According to Perry: “The loss of theological purchase on Christ’s
person and work culminates in Arianism of some sort.” (P 114) That is, if we
treat Jesus merely as our servant or “cheerleader” for “this or that political
issue, which is believed for other, more important reasons” (P 114), then we are
treating Jesus as a mere creature, not God. And when Jesus is no longer seen or
seriously taken to be God—truly God and truly man—we become like Arius.
Perry’s solution for Arianism? Incarnation.
“If the solution to Simony is prudence, and
gnosticism is cured by realism, then the forsaking of Arianism is an embrace of
a full-blooded doctrine of the incarnation.” (P 115) We are called to love God
with the whole of our minds as well as hearts (Mark 12:30). This means we should
use our intellects fully in appreciating and expressing as best we can the truth
of Jesus’ identity: that Jesus is fully human and fully God.
For starters, Perry suggests “confessing the
Nicene Creed in worship.” (P 116) Also, Perry suggests “reading with Nicaea.” (P 116) That is, let the Holy-Spirit-guided
wisdom of the ancient church as expressed in the Nicene Creed help us
understand Scripture today. And, to additionally resist Arius, Perry suggests
evangelicals bless Mary as the Mother of God. This may sound odd to
evangelicals (it did to me), but it is not to abandon protestant evangelicalism
and become Catholic. Rather, Perry argues: “It is simply to conform to the Mother
of God’s own observation in Luke 1:48–49: ‘For behold, from now on all
generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things
for me, and holy is his name.’ Let us take our place among the generations who
call her blessed!’ (P 118) Yes, indeed. Mary is the mother of God; that is,
Mary is the biological mother of the God-man Jesus. What a great way to
remember Jesus is the Incarnation!
And what a great way to remember that Jesus is
Lord and not a servant of our politics.[9]
(d)
Pelagianism
To put it perhaps too pithily, Pelagius (355–420
AD) was overly optimistic about human beings and their (our) sin problem. Pelagius
was serious about holiness. Pelagius, however, saw sin not as a deadly disease/
condition passed down from Adam and infecting the whole human race at the
get-go, but instead as affecting only Adam. For Pelagius, Adam’s sin was a mere
bad example to the rest of us and (in the words of Augustine, summarizing
Pelagius’s teaching) “a man is able to be without sin if he wishes” (P 137) The
heresy of Pelagius, then, has two closely related aspects: sin isn’t taken
seriously enough, and grace isn’t taken seriously enough. As Augustine argues
against Pelagianism (see Perry’s chapter 5 for details), sin isn’t mere bad
learning from bad company, and grace isn’t mere natural ability to overcome sin
(though there’s cooperation with grace, per Pelagius). Sin is a deep spiritual brokenness
that the human race inherited from our first parents, and the grace we need to
deal with this brokenness is a divinely initiated interruption in our lives
(even before our cooperation with grace). To deal with our sin, we need the
Gospel—the true Gospel.
How does Pelagius’s heresy manifest itself today
politically? When “evangelical activism has been severed from its roots in the
crucicentric, conversionist preaching of the gospel.” (P 142) That is, when we
don’t put first things first and instead put our politics ahead of Gospel. That
is, when we forget the (dark) reality of sin and our (desperate) need for God’s
grace and (falsely) think we can bring God’s kingdom to earth on our own, through
self-improvement, without true Gospel.
Perry points to the tendency of the evangelical
political right to forget, say, that the message of Jordan Peterson, who has
many good and important insights, basically is one of self-improvement, not
Gospel. (P 142–143) And Perry points to the tendency of the evangelical
political left to forget that social justice, though important, risks being, when
divorced from Gospel, yet another “failed utopian vision of the twentieth
century.” (P 143) Perry adds: “Both [right and left] rest on a dubious optimism
about human nature” and “have yet to account for the awful weight of sin.” (P
143–144)
Perry’s solution for Pelagianism? Reclaiming the
Gospel.
As the psalmist tells us, we should turn from
putting our trust in “princes” (Psalm 146:3–4), that is, in “our political
class.” (P 145) Perry clarifies: “Repentance means leaving the temptation to
ultimate investment in human structures behind.” (P 146) This is not to embrace
moral quietism or to stop being a salting influence in our spheres of
influence, including the political sphere (Perry reminds us of William
Wilberforce and fellow Christians who were instrumental in abolishing slavery
in Great Britain), but it is to remember that Jesus is Lord—and we should “bear
witness to God’s kingdom, and bring the good news to people who are [today] often
largely inoculated to it.” (P 147) The Gospel—the transforming message of
Jesus’ life, crucifixion, and physical resurrection—is God’s means of saving
sinners. And without it, not only will we lose our saltiness but also the world
will remain lost. Our own kingdom-building efforts will inevitably fail. “And if politics is all we have left, God help
us. We are above all people most pitiable.” (P 147)
Pelagianism, then, is the heresy that we can
build God’s kingdom on our own instead of recognizing a “kingdom that’s
erupting in our midst.” (P 176) To repent of this waywardness—this
worldliness—we must reclaim the Gospel by putting it first. Gospel is the
primary good, politics is a secondary good.
(e)
Donatism
Donatus (died c. 355 AD) was a bishop in Northern
Africa at a time shortly after some terrible persecutions of Christians. Donatus
and his followers—Donatists—viewed fellow Christians, especially leaders, who had
succumbed to pressure to recant their faith (pressure that was severe, to put
it mildly) and who subsequently repented and wished to resume positions of
leadership, as traitors. For
Donatists, only “leaders [who] remained faithful under trial and overcame”
could be part of “the pure bride of Christ.” (P 158) According to Donatism, the
church’s holiness is comprised of her members’ holiness, and it they lapsed, they
are apostate—evil. Donatism emphasized holy rigor over mercy, in other words. And
the Donatists saw themselves as the only true church.
This all might sound harsh and narrow-minded to
us today, but, as Perry points out, it is important to emphasize and remember that
during the time leading up to Donatus many North African Christians suffered terribly
and died horribly under severe persecutions. It is understandable, surely, that
those Christians who stood firm in such circumstances were not impressed by those
who succumbed to cowardice and forsook the faith. (I find it helps to think of
those Christian leaders in Germany who succumbed to Nazi ideology and/or helped
Nazis. My attitude to them is not positive.)
Against Donatism, Augustine (354–430 AD) argued
that the church’s holiness is not constituted by her members. Rather, according
to Augustine (Perry’s words): “the holiness that marks the church is Christ’s
own holiness, freely given to the church in her sacraments. The church is holy
because she belongs to Jesus.” (P 159) Holy rigor is important, to be sure, but
so too is mercy. And we must especially keep in mind the truth that Jesus’
righteousness/ holiness is given to us mercifully via grace. “Holiness is an
objective, present reality that both animates the lives of believers on their
way to sainthood and exists alongside the sinfulness of the church’s members,
including those in leadership. It is a forever-offered gift of grace that is
sometimes imperfectly accepted and sometimes spurned.” (P 159–160) This is not
to set aside the importance of and need for church discipline of her leaders—such
discipline is definitely needed—but it is to realize that God’s grace remains
in the sacraments; it does not hinge on the spiritual status of the minister of
those sacraments. (Personally, I take this to mean that my confession of Christ
as Lord, my baptism in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, and
my taking bread and wine in remembrance of Jesus—these sacraments—hold true, whether
or not during the times of my confession, baptism, and communion my pastor is
or was engaging in sin). And it is to realize that “the church would be a mixed
body of sinners” and “Wheat and tares would grow together until the final
revelation of the sons and daughters of God at the last day.” (P 162)
How does this relate to us today politically? According to Perry, it relates
to our tendency to follow the spirit of Donatists by viewing those who are
“outsiders,” that is, those who are not on board with our politics, as evil. As
Donatists condemned as apostate those who weren’t with the program—their
program allegedly unstained by worldliness—so we evangelicals sometimes condemn
as apostate those who disagree with us politically. In particular, Perry is
concerned about evangelicals’ “quick recourse to moral judgment.” (P 165) Today,
on contentious issues such as climate change, poverty, and sexuality, there are
evangelicals, both on the right and the left, who are inclined to judge readily
those who disagree. Those who disagree are judged not merely as mistaken but
morally suspect and unholy—fit for exclusion. (P 166) Thereby the spirit of Donatism
once again raises its ugly head.
Perry’s solution to Donatism? Enter again his
solution for Simony: Prudence. But this time in the form of a two-step prudential
judgment. The first step is a “deliberate withholding of judgment on people in
disagreement.” (P 167) Here Perry reminds us of Jesus’ well-known exhortation
not to judge others (Matthew 7: 1–5). It is not our job to judge people; that’s
Jesus’ job. Perry rightly points out: “It is not for me to condemn or acquit
Simon, Cerinthus, Arius, Pelagius, or Donatus any more than those brothers and
sisters with whom I stand in sometimes sharp disagreement.” (P 167) Rather, we
should follow Jesus in seeking reconciliation where possible and by being
merciful. But this does not preclude our responsibility to judge ideas, which is Perry’s second step. Though
we withhold our judgment of the hearts and souls of those with whom we disagree
(which is God’s job), we are called to pursue truth. This involves carefully
weighing arguments and evidence and distinguishing truth from falsehood. “The
rejection of false ideas in the pursuit of truth is part and parcel of being the
church in history; it is the task of faith seeking understanding, of faith and
reason working together in the pursuit of him who is the Truth.” (P 168) And we
do this via persuasion (reason and evidence), not coercion (physical force or threats
or silencing).[10]
5.
Conclusion
Tim Perry’s When Politics Becomes Heresy laments evangelical churches mirroring the political polarization of contemporary culture, observes that many evangelical Christians are turning politics into an idol, and calls those evangelicals to repent.
In this review I have (1) talked briefly about
the book’s author, (2) set out some general comments about Perry’s book, (3)
discussed heresies in general, (4) looked in detail at two of the five specific
heresies examined by Perry (Simony, Gnosticism) and looked briefly at the other three (Arianism, Pelagianism, Donatism).
My conclusion: Buy Perry’s book, read it
carefully, and take its message to heart. Jesus—the real Jesus—comes first, not
politics.
In these politically tumultuous times, our
temptation is to trust in and busily serve the princes of this world. But we
must turn to and trust in Jesus. “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in
quietness and trust shall be your strength.” (Isaiah 30:15, P 186)
Politics is not the most important thing. The
Gospel is what is most important.
Postscript:
Author interviews and other reviews
- When
Politics Becomes Heresy, with Dr. Tim Perry, Mere
Fidelity, October 14, 2024 (44 minute podcast).
- Subordinating
the Gospel to Politics, Lexham Press, October 15, 2024 (short
article).
- The
Slippery Slope of Christian Politics, Gospel Simplicity,
April 7 2025 (58 minute video).
- Are
American Evangelicals Basically All Heretics?? A Review of ‘When Politics
Becomes Heresy’, Joel Wentz, May 1, 2025 (16 minute
video).
Notes
1. The Slippery Slope of
Christian Politics, Gospel Simplicity, April 7 2025 (58
minute video). For a careful look at today’s various political alternatives,
see David T. Koyzis, Political Visions and Illusions: A Survey
and Christian Critique of Contemporary Ideologies,
2nd edition (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Academic, 2019).
And for a look at a Christian understanding of citizenship, see David T.
Koyzis, Citizenship Without Illusions: A
Christian Guide to Political Engagement (Downers
Grover, Illinois: IVP Academic, 2024).
2. For evidence and arguments in defence of
Christianity’s basic truth claims, see my book APOLOGIA: The Columns: A Defence of Mere
Christianity (Amazon KDP, 2023.) For more about
fallacies, see my book Truth, Logic, Knowledge: Articles of
Critical Thinking (Amazon KDP, 2023).
3. On these complex issues over which Christians
can disagree in good faith, publishers such as IVP Academic and Baker Academic have
some fine books which provide multiple Christian views.
4. In case it’s of interest, over the past few
decades I have thought deeply and written about LGBTQ+ matters. See my articles
tagged “LGBTQ+” and “Homosexuality and Bible” over at my blog APOLOGIA.
In those articles I set out recommended books and videos.
5. For a few of my thoughts about Hume and Kant,
see relevant chapters of my book APOLOGIA.
See, too, relevant portions of my PhD dissertation, “Miracle Reports, Moral Philosophy, and Contemporary Science,”
University of Waterloo, 2004.
6. This is Google AI’s answer to my question: What
are the main characteristics of postmodernism? Google AI’s answer fits with what
I have learned of postmodernism. It also fits with Perry’s proposed solution to
Gnosticism.
7. Again, for a work on apologetics—in which I
defend realism concerning the external world (and our knowledge of it), moral
realism (against moral relativism and other competing views), God’s existence,
and Jesus’ resurrection—see my book APOLOGIA.
(By the way, I am happy to report that my book was endorsed by Tim Perry). For
my additional thoughts on how language does not preclude our knowledge of the
external/real world, see my article, “It’s Not
Interpretation All the Way Down: A Defense of Simple Seeing,” Didaskalia: The Journal of Providence
Theological Seminary (Spring 2015): 57–74. This article was subsequently
republished in Global Journal of Classic Theology 13:2
(September 2016). See, too, relevant articles at my blog APOLOGIA.
8. Jehovah’s Witnesses hold to the Arian heresy.
Perry’s chapter on Arius’s view and how Athanasius’s refuted Arianism may be
useful in apologetics to Jehovah’s Witnesses.
9. For a recent and important book defending the
biblical doctrine of Incarnation, see Robert M. Bowman Jr. & J. Ed
Komoszewski, The Incarnate Christ and His Critics: A
Biblical Defense
(Kregel Academic, 2024). For a reply to the objection that the
concept of God-man is logically contradictory, see my two-part blog article “God Incarnate illogical?” APOLOGIA, October 17 & December 23, 2015.
10. Sadly, Jesus’ command not to judge is often understood
today to mean that we are not to make any
judgments. But such an understanding is false (and even silly). For more on this
topic, see my article “On
judging,” APOLOGIA, October 1, 2015.
---
Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is a retired philosophy
professor who lives in Steinbach, Manitoba, Canada.
