The Three Keys
In which I explain Christianity's remarkable resilience in just 700 words.
Yesterday I noted that Christianity, as a religion, has dramatically exceeded early expectations, surviving much longer and spreading much further than anyone in the first or second centuries would have imagined. It is a basic premise of Christendom Reborn that we can, at least to a great extent, identify certain big-picture features of the tradition that explain this resilience. Today’s post lays out, in very foundational form, what I see as the three keys to Christianity’s immense dynamism.
My explanation will not boil down to “God’s grace” or “Christ’s redemptive sacrifice,” though I do firmly believe in those things. I should be clear though that if I stick primarily to the realm of natural reason, that is not because I am even slightly embarrassed to affirm my belief in grace, revelation, Sacraments, miracles, angels, saints, demons, and the like. I simply think there can be value in applying our rational powers to important questions. For one thing, it makes it easier to talk to non-believers. It can also supply some check on the natural human tendency to confuse our own hopes and anxieties with God’s immortal will. We should never suppose, of course, that natural explanations replace transcendent ones, as though the story of David and Goliath could somehow be spoiled by an explanation of the mechanics of a slingshot. All things are held in the providence of God.
I have just 500 words left, so I’d better get started. The first key to Christian resilience is the bridging of faith and reason. You can instead say “the Christian philosophical tradition” if you just like that lofty sound, but I think it makes sense here to stress “faith and reason.” It shows what’s at issue.
Religion acquaints believers with important truths, helping them to live better (truer!) lives. It has a wonderful capacity to preserve and transmit wisdom over time, serving as a kind of repository of human insight. Inevitably though, every faith will at some point encounter speed bumps: times when new discoveries or widely held opinions run contrary to whatever the community holds to be true. What then?
There are a few options. One is to adapt the faith to the new thing. Alternatively, new discoveries or views can be rejected in favor of tradition. Both courses can be appropriate at times, but each has its pitfalls. A faith that adapts too easily will tend to dissipate into the surrounding culture, while one that consistently rejects new things will veer into fundamentalism and find increasingly divorced from reality. The best solution is a well-honed dogma, shaped and defined by a rich philosophical tradition. I will return to this point in the near future, with a devote a week to discussing Christianity’s Philosophical Toolkit. For now, let’s move on to God and Caesar.
Although the Israelites had some interest in making Jesus a king, he repeatedly insisted that he wasn’t that kind of king. This was a significant thing, in an era when religious and political authority did tend to be closely conjoined. From the beginning, then, Christians had some sense that God’s authority and the state’s were meant to be separated, although the ground-level reality of this has always been quite messy and complicated. Where the story of Christian philosophy often seems graceful and inspiring, Christian political history looks more like a never-ending wrestling match. Nevertheless, it has long been understood that some separation was required, and this point has been vital to Christian resilience, and transformative for the history of the West. There will be much more discussion of this point in coming weeks.
Must be brief now. You could call the final key “Christian personalism.” If you prefer just “love,” that’s okay too. From the beginning, Christians have believed that God is love, and that every human being is precious and unique, made in God’s own image. To the ancient world this view was as insane as it was beautiful. I’m not always sure we understand it much better today. And yet, this aspect of the Christian tradition is the most compelling, defining, and utterly transformative for every society that has fallen under Christian influence. Love does win, though not always in the ways people expect.
That was 700 words on the dot. Victory! I will have much more to say about all of these in coming weeks. Still in framing mode for now. Come back tomorrow for my super-sonic dash through Christian history, which should at least serve to clarify why this us living through a “fulcrum moment” in which Christendom is being reborn.




This is really impressive. I have tended to see the strange resilience of the Church through history as secularly inexplicable, embarrassing to intellectual unbelievers, and evidence for the faith by its sheer weirdness. It struck me as a difficult problem to account for Christian resilience in terms that avoided a framing that is too explicitly apologetic to fit into mainstream public discourse.
But I think you've done it. And it doesn't deny or neutralize the apologetic value of Christian resilience. Why has the Christian philosophical tradition been successful enough to keep satisfying many leading intellects and holding its own in public debates down the generations? Why has the church been able to sustain its independence of the state, in ever evolving forms, while refusing to capture it? Why has Christianity been so persistent and genuine (with lapses but also recoveries) in love? Your explanation doesn't remove the mystery, but it does provide a solid core that secular people can digest, understand, and tentatively accept as far as it goes, without locking them into a path towards a belief that they'll resist.
And my first impression is that this does capture the heart of it. Obviously there's more to be said, but I wouldn't have expected it that it was possible to summarize the reasons of Christian resilience like this. Bravo!
I love where this is going!