The Protestant Era by Paul Tillich

Paul Tillich is generally considered one of the century's outstanding and influential thinkers. After teaching theology and philosophy at
various German universities, he came to the United States in 1933. For many years he was Professor of Philosophical Theology at Union
Theological Seminary in New York City, then University Professor at Harvard University. His books include Systematic Theology; The
Courage to Be; Dynamics of Faith; Love, Power and Justice; Morality and Beyond; and Theology of Culture. The Protestant Era was
published by The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois in 1948. This material was prepared for Religion Online by Ted &
Winnie Brock

Chapter 7: Nature and Sacrament

No other question in Protestantism has from the beginning offered so much difficulty as has the question of the sacraments, and no other
has received such uncertain answers. This is no mere accident, for the whole protest of the Reformation was in fundamental opposition to
the sacramental system of Catholicism. Indeed, all sides of the Protestant criticism may be interpreted as an attack of the Protestant spirit
upon the Catholic tendency to a sacramental objectivation and demonization of Christianity. The teachings of the Reformed churches
represent the most thoroughgoing application of this principle of Protestantism. The famous answer of the Heidelberg Catechism to the
effect that the Mass is "an accursed idolatry" expresses the vigorously antidemonic attitude of the Reformed churches in their battle
against the Roman Catholic view of the sacraments. Luther broke with Zwingli, because Zwingli’s hostile attitude toward the sacraments
was strange to the mystical element in Luther’s faith (though Luther did not him self succeed in working out a clear and consistent theory
of the sacraments). The situation in the church today reflects the same tensions. Many ministers who are in a position to judge the
situation as it really is remark with anxiety the "death of the sacraments." Nor are strong countertendencies visible, not even in theology.
Yet the problem of the sacraments is a decisive one if Protestantism is to come to its full realization. A complete disappearance of the
sacramental element (not the same thing, be it noted, as the particular sacraments) would lead to the disappearance of the cultus and,
finally, to the dissolution of the visible church itself. For this reason Protestantism must deal seriously with the whole sacramental aspect
of religion, an aspect that is fundamental for an understanding of the way in which Protestantism can gain a strong historical form. The
aspect of the question with which we shall deal here is, in spite of its importance, often neglected. It is the problem of the relation between
nature and sacrament. Bearing in mind the concrete situation in which we find ourselves, I should like to begin with an analysis of the two
sacraments still alive in Protestantism and of the significance of the word in its relation to them.

I. The Sacrament of Baptism

We begin with baptism not only because it is the basic sacrament but also because it is the easiest to analyze. The sacrament of baptism
has only one element, and this element is a simple element, water. It is through water that baptism becomes a sacrament. Without water
there would be no baptism. But, on the other hand: "Without the Word of God, the water is simply water and no baptism." This statement
from Luther’s Catechism raises a whole series of profound theological and historical problems. Among these problems we must first ask
the question as to what is meant by the phrase "simply water." And if water as such is to be described as "simply water," why use water at
all? Why is not the "Word of God" sufficient without water, why need there be a sacrament? There are three possible answers to this
question, which is the question concerning the natural element in the sacrament.

The first answer gives a symbolic-metaphoric interpretation of the element. It considers water as a symbol, say, for purification or for
drowning or for both together and speaks of the dying of the old, the unclean, and the resurrection of the new, the pure. On this
interpretation, sprinkling by water or baptism by immersion serves the purpose of setting forth in an understandable picture the idea that is
expressed also by the accompanying word. The act of baptism is thus a visible representation of the idea of baptism. Obviously, other
pictorial actions could serve as representation of the same idea, such as passing through fire, going down into a cave and the like, as are,
in fact, familiar in votive ceremonies or in the mystery religions. The use of water may also have a rational motivation, on the ground that
water is easy to use, or it may have some justification in the fact of its traditional use. But neither of these explanations suggests any
necessary, intrinsic relationship between water and baptism.

The second answer may be characterized as the "ritualistic" interpretation of the element. Here it is asserted that the relation between
water and baptism is merely accidental. The connecting of the two is dependent on a divine command. Because of this command, water
acquires its sacramental significance as soon as it is employed in the properly celebrated rite of baptism. A residue of this conception,
which is fundamentally nominalistic in character, is evident in the Protestant claim that the sacrament had to be instituted by Christ
himself according to the biblical reports. The ritualistic conception does not even hint that there might be an intrinsic relationship between
water and baptism.

The third answer gives a realistic interpretation of the element. It explicitly raises the question as to whether there is not a necessary
relationship between water and baptism. It questions Luther’s view that water is "simply water," although accepting his repudiation of the
magical conception of the sacraments. A special character or quality, a power of its own, is attributed to water. By virtue of this natural
power, water is suited to become the bearer of a sacral power and thus also to become a sacramental element. A necessary relationship
between baptism and water is asserted. This realistic conception seems to me to be adequate to the true nature of the sacrament. It rejects
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the idea that there is a merely arbitrary connection between the idea and the material element.

II. The Sacrament of the Lords Supper

The analysis of the Lord’s Supper is much more difficult and complicated. To begin with, we have here two perceptible elements, bread
and wine. In the second place, neither of these elements is an original natural element; both are rather the result of an artificial changing of
natural products. In the third place—and this is the most important point—the two together represent the body of Christ, the basic element
of the Lord’s Supper. And in the fourth place, whereas the body of Christ as a body belongs to nature, as a transcendent body it is beyond
nature.

The meaning of the Lord’s Supper as a sacrament is that it is the sacramental appropriation of the exalted body of Christ. The human body
is the highest creation of nature, containing within itself all other natural elements and, at the same time, surpassing them all. The eating
of a real body is, of course, out of the question. The anthropophagism of a primitive cultus had already been eliminated by the
antidemonic struggles of early religious periods. And the body of Jesus Christ, in so far as it existed at a particular time in history, is
obviously inaccessible to us.

But it is just this body that becomes accessible to us through the fact that it has become transcendent. It remains a body; it does not
become spirit; it becomes rather a "spiritual" body. As such it is accessible. But as such it lacks perceptibility. It lacks the natural element
without which a real celebration of the sacrament is impossible. Substituting organic substances for the body solves the problem;
substances that nourish the body and that have the form of artificially prepared means of nourishment. That is, in place of the body we
have the elements that nourish the body.

We may now make use of the various interpretations of the sacrament, which we have derived from our analysis of baptism. If we apply
the results of this analysis to the elements of the Lord’s Supper, first, to the basic element of the Supper—the body of Christ—it is evident
that the body of Christ can be understood only by means of the third, the realistic interpretation. What is it supposed to symbolize? The
spirit of Christ? In that case we should be attempting to symbolize black by white. The body of Christ itself is what is referred to. A
natural reality is elevated to transcendent, divine meaning. Participation in the divine power is a participating also in the divine power in
nature. It seems to me as if Luther’s (logically absurd) theory of the ubiquity of the body of Christ was an attempt to give expression to
this idea.

It is a more difficult question if we try to determine the precise significance of the secondary elements, the bread and wine. The Catholic
doctrine of transubstantiation is the simplest answer to the question. Through transubstantiation, the bread and the wine—the secondary
elements—are in substance annulled and replaced; there remains only one element, the body of Christ, which, by means of the
transubstantiation, assumes the bread and wine into its own mode of being. Among Protestants, on the other hand, the independence and
separate character of the secondary elements are maintained. Hence the question as to their significance is all the more difficult, and
especially the question as to the reason for the choice of just these elements. A ritualistic conception of the sacrament would center
attention upon the words of institution, for ostensibly they contain a command of Jesus. The command would be responsible for the
linking-together of the primary with the two secondary elements, and thus the association of the body of Christ with bread and wine
would be explained as the mere accident of a historical situation. But this interpretation would practically eliminate the primary element
of the Lord’s Supper, the exalted body of Christ; for neither the pouring and drinking of the wine nor the breaking and eating of the bread
have any symbolic relation to the transcendent Christ, although at least the breaking of the bread is a clear and adequate symbol for the
event on Golgotha. Beyond this the ritualistic interpretation cannot go. The realistic interpretation, on the other hand, can explain bread
and wine as representing the natural powers that nourish the body and support in the human body the highest possibility of nature. They
point to the presence of the divine saving power in the natural basis of all spiritual life as well as in the spiritual life itself.

III. The Word and the Sacrament

The classical combination "word and sacrament" means, in the first place, "the word as well as the sacrament." Next it signifies, "the
sacrament through the word." And it has often been used, especially in Protestantism, as "word without sacrament." This variety of
implications is inevitable so long as the two concepts are understood as being qualitatively contrasted or, more concretely expressed, so
long as it is denied that the word by itself can have a sacramental character. But there is no justification for such a denial. The word is,
first of all, a natural phenomenon. As such, it can, like other natural elements, become a part of a ritual act in which it functions as the
bearer of a transcendent power: it can become sacramental.

The word as breath, as sound, as something heard, is a natural phenomenon. At the same time, however, a word is the bearer of a
meaning. There are two possible ways of understanding the relation between the word as a natural phenomenon and the word as a bearer
of meaning. The one possibility is to deprive the word of its intrinsic power and to deny any essential relation between the word and the
meaning it bears. The power, the significance, the penetrating force of words is then attributed to the meaning which could be expressed
as well by other words. The words are thought of as arbitrarily interchangeable. The other possibility is to consider the sound and the
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meaning as bound together in such a way that the natural power of words becomes the necessary bearer of its power of meaning, so that
the one is not possible without the other. Where this is asserted, words by their natural power are potential bearers of a transcendent
power and are suitable for sacramental usage.

Sacramental words that definitely exhibit this character are to be found in Protestantism in connection with the administration of the
sacraments and also in the pronouncing of the words of absolution. In these cases the following questions arise: Are the words that are
here used only signs that indicate and communicate a meaning? Or are they words in which sound and meaning are so united that the
speaking of the words, and therefore the natural process of speaking as such, has a power through which they can become bearers of a
transcendent power? If the second question is answered in the affirmative, a realistic interpretation of the sacramental word would be
implied, and the ritualistic conception, which traces the words back only to commands, as well as the symbolic-metaphorical
interpretation, which makes words only empty tokens, would be precluded.

We have shown in our analysis of the two Protestant sacraments, as well as of the words used in them, that the "realistic" interpretation
alone provides an adequate explanation of their nature. We must, however, raise the question as to whether such an interpretation is
logical and justifiable and as to what significance its application would have for a theory of the sacraments and for the shaping of the
cultus in Protestantism. Above all, we must ask: What conception of nature is implied in such realism and how can it be shown that such a
conception of nature is necessary?

IV. Ways of Interpreting Nature

The concept of nature has a number of very different meanings, depending upon what it is contrasted with. The formal concept of nature
contrasts the natural with everything non-natural (the unnatural or the supernatural). It therefore also includes soul and mind as results of
natural growth. The material concept of nature contrasts the natural with everything in which freedom is involved. The concepts
antithetical to the material concept of nature are spirit and history. Theology places a negative value judgment upon the natural in the
formal sense, which is viewed as corrupted, sinful, and fallen, in opposition to the supernatural, which is the redeemed, the restored, the
perfected. In this study we are concerned with nature in its material sense as the bearer of sacramental meaning and power.

The conception of nature that we find earliest in history, so far as we have knowledge of it, is the magical-sacramental conception.
According to it, everything is filled with a sort of material energy, which gives to things and to parts of things, even to the body and the
parts of the body, a sacral power. The word "sacral" in this context, however, does not signify something in opposition to the profane.
Indeed, at this phase of cultural development the distinction between the sacred and the profane is not a fundamental one. The natural
power in things is, at the same time, their sacral power, and any commerce with them is always both ritualistic and utilitarian. One could
characterize this primitive view as pan-sacramentalism, but, if this is done, one must remember that what we today call the "sacramental"
is not thought of by the primitive mind as a separate or special religious reality. The primitive man holds to a magical interpretation of
nature; the technical control of reality is supposed to be effected without reference to what we call natural law." The control of reality is
accomplished through the operations of magical energy without using the circuitous methods of rational manipulation. It should be
pointed out, however, that there has never been a merely magical relation to nature. The technical necessities somehow always assert
themselves and create certain areas in which rational objectivity prevails.

When this occurs, generally the magical view of nature disappears and is replaced by the rational-objective attitude. Only when the latter
view of nature is reached may we speak of "things" in the strict sense, that is, as entities completely conditioned. Mathematical physics
and the technical control of nature based on it are the most impressive and the most consistent expressions of this view. Nature is brought
under control, objectified, and stripped of its qualities. No sacramental conception can find a root in this soil. Nature cannot become the
bearer of a transcendent power, it can at most be an image of it, a witness to it. But the rational-objective view of nature is also never fully
applicable. The qualities of things resist any attempt at their complete eradication. Even in the structure of the atom there is something
primordial, a Gestalt, an intrinsic power. And the highly complicated machines created by the applied sciences are, in many ways,
analogous to the basic organic forms; they can gain a new magical power over the minds of those who serve them.

The technical attitude toward nature and its merely quantitative analysis has been opposed since the times of Greek philosophy by the
vitalistic interpretation of nature. Here an immediate power of being is attributed to things. Everything, the whole world-process, is
envisaged as an expression of life: élan vital, "the vital urge," the "creative power of life," and the like are the characteristic phrases used.
The modern Gestalt theory has given unexpected scientific confirmation to these ideas. But vitalistic philosophy goes beyond this justified
protest. Even the mind is subjected to the principle of unbroken vitality and is branded as a sort of disease and fought against as a
degenerate form of life. In this vitalistic philosophy nature recovers its power again, but it is a power without meaning; and power without
meaning is ultimately impotent. Sacramental trends on the basis of the "vitalistic" philosophy of nature can be seen in the attempts of
some semi-pagan movements to re-establish the symbolism of the religions of nature by using elements and forms of the natural world
(fire, water, light) as powerful in themselves without relationship to spirit and transcendence.

The symbolic-romantic interpretation of nature attempts to give back to nature its qualitative character, its depth, its meaningfulness, by
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interpreting nature as a symbol of the spirit. The power of things is the power of soul or spirit in them. It is clear that this provides rich
possibilities for the symbolic interpretation of sacraments. In the place of pan-sacramentalism we have here a pan-symbolism. But it
should be pointed out that this view is very little aware of the real structure of nature. It gives us the creations of an arbitrary imagination.
The quantitative, calculable "nature" of physics is certainly not overcome by it; only subjective imagination has been added. For this
reason the symbolic-romantic interpretation of nature cannot provide a solid basis for a new theory of the sacrament.

The unsatisfactory character of all the interpretations of nature mentioned thus far drives us to a view which we may call "new realism," a
term in which elements of the medieval and of the modern use of the word "realism" are united. Thinkers like Schelling and Goethe and
Rilke in our day, have proposed this way of penetrating into the depth of nature. We must follow them with the means of our present
knowledge of nature and man. The power and meaning of nature must be sought within and through its objective physical structures.
Power and physical character, meaning and objective structure, are not separated in nature. We cannot accept the word of mathematical
science as the last word about nature, although we do not thereby deny that it is the first word.

The power of nature must be found in a sphere prior to the cleavage of our world into subjectivity and objectivity. Life originates on a
level which is "deeper" than the Cartesian duality of cogitatio and extensio ("thought" and "extension"). It was the wish of the vitalistic
interpretation of nature to reach this level. But a philosophy of life that denies intellect and spirit has deprived life of its strongest power
and its ultimate meaning, as even Nietzche realized when he said: "Spirit is life which itself cutteth into life." The difficult problem for all
attempts to reach the uncleft level of reality is the necessity to penetrate into something "non-subjective" with categories of a subjective
mind and into something "nonobjective" with categories of objective reality. This necessarily falsifies the pictures, which can be corrected
only by a strict understanding of the indirect, symbolic character of terms used for the description of the power and meaning of nature.

A realistic interpretation of nature such as we have outlined would be able to provide the foundation of a new Protestant theory of
sacraments. But this alone is not sufficient. No sacrament, in Christian thought, can be understood apart from its relation to the new being
in Jesus as the Christ; and, consequently, no sacrament can be understood apart from history. Nature, in being adapted to sacramental use
in Christianity, and especially in Protestantism, must be understood historically and in the context of the history of salvation. Obviously,
there are historical elements in nature. Nature participates in historical time, that is, in the time that proceeds in an unrepeatable and
irreversible way. The structure of the cosmos, of atoms, of stars, of the biological substance, is changing in an unknown direction.
Although the historical element in nature is balanced with the non-historical one (the "circle of genesis and decay," the self-repetition in
nature, the circular movement which dominated Greek thinking), Christianity, following old mythological visions in Persia and Israel,
decided for the historical element and included nature in the history of salvation.

If nature is interpreted in this realistic and, at the same time, historical way, natural objects can become bearers of transcendent power and
meaning, they can become sacramental elements. The Protestant criticism against any direct magical or mythological use of nature as the
bearer of the holy is heeded. Nature, by being brought into the context of the history of salvation, is liberated from its ambiguity. Its
demonic quality is conquered in the new being in Christ. Nature is not the enemy of salvation; it does not have to be controlled in
scientific, technical, and moral terms or be deprived of any inherent power, in order to serve the "Kingdom of God," as Calvinistic
thinking is inclined to believe; rather, nature is a bearer and an object of salvation. This is the basis for a Protestant rediscovery of the
sacramental sphere.

V. Examples of the Realistic Interpretation of Nature

We shall now give some examples of the realistic interpretation of nature. This will be difficult because the apprehension of the inherent
powers of nature is not a possible task for rational discourse. Other methods of approach must be employed, and these methods are not
conclusive because they permit us to do little more than point to something the acknowledgment of which cannot be forced. Our task is
made a little easier, however, because, in spite of all our rationalistic education, certain elements of the realistic interpretation of nature
are still present in our minds, consciously and subconsciously.

In all times and even in Christian lands the feeling that certain numbers have a peculiar quality of their own has had an astonishing power.
In the first place we must mention the number 3, for the mystical quality of this number has, more than its logical nature, contributed to
the idea of trinity from the time of Origen to that of Hegel. We can still understand the quite different significance of the number 4 and the
cubic perfection, which it has connoted since Greek classicism. We can still sense something of the tension and richness suggested by the
number 12. The ambiguity of such intuitions finds expression in the valuation of the number 7, partly as holy, partly as evil. Christianity,
of course, cannot accept the valuation of anything natural as evil in itself, because "being as being is good"—an evaluation that Augustine
rightly derives from the idea of creation. This refers to numbers as well as to all other natural objects, whether they are, in the present
stage of the world, useful or dangerous for men. They become evil in the context into which they may enter and which is dependent on
finite freedom. Yet all these intuitions are residues, and any attempt by occult means to recover them in their power can scarcely be
successful. Probably the real significance of numbers for us has to do with a quite different aspect of the matter, namely, the mystery of
infinite numbers and their relation to the finite.

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We are still sensitive to the natural power residing in certain elements in inorganic nature. The four elements of the old philosophy of
nature—of which water is particularly significant for us, because of its use in baptism—have always exercised a strong power over men,
even when we have made a conscious effort to guard against it. Depth psychology offers a partial explanation for this phenomenon. It
points out that water, on the one hand, is a symbol for the origin of life in the womb of the mother, which is a symbol for the creative
source of all things, and that, on the other hand, it is a symbol of death—the return to the origin of things.

A residue of former awareness of the powers of nature lies in the idea of the "precious" stone (Edelstein); clearly, the word precious here
is not to be interpreted either in aesthetic terms (beautiful) or in terms of price or technical quality. (Recall the "magic tales" about the
power of precious stones and also the use of precious stones in the Apocalypse.)

The metaphysics of light in medieval philosophy shows a surprising unity of physical knowledge and mystical intuition. The "light" in
this theory is the forerunner of the modern electrodynamic analysis of matter, and, at the same time, it is the symbol of the divine form, as
manifest in all things. The romantic philosophy of nature tried to penetrate into the qualitative power and spiritual meaning of light but
was not able to bridge the gap between poetic imagination and scientific research.

Goethe was more successful in this respect in his famous doctrine of colors and in his fight against Newton’s quantitative-dynamic theory
of light and color. In this controversy (which is not yet decided, even on the level of physics) the quantitative-technical interpretation of
nature, represented by Newton, clashed with the qualitative-intuitive attitude toward nature, represented by Goethe. Goethe was
passionately interested in what we have called the "power" of colors, their spiritual meaning and effect. Theology should seriously
consider this problem. The development of Christianity from the Byzantine through the high medieval to the Protestant epoch is mirrored
in the use of colors for pictures and churches. The "gold" of the Byzantine basilicas and of the early Gothic paintings expresses the
mystical-transcendent feeling of this period. For "gold" is not a color in the scale of natural colors; it is, so to speak, the transcendence of
mere color and therefore the adequate expression for transcendence as such. In contrast to this, the stained windows of the cathedrals let
the natural light in, but in a broken way and in the most intensive colors. The metaphysics of light and the stained windows correspond
with each other. In the Protestant churches (in so far as they are genuine and not simply Gothic or Byzantine imitations) the light of day
streams through unstained windows, adding to the intellectual atmosphere, but this often makes the distinction between school and church
difficult to observe.

The myth of Paradise (the Garden of Eden) shows the "power" of vegetative life, represented by the trees and their significance for Adam.
They are bearers of divine powers, such as eternal life and the knowledge of the good and evil forces in all things. In the transcendent
fulfillment, according to the Apocalypse, there will be the tree of life, whose leaves will heal the nations.

The "power" of animals can be seen in a fourfold direction. The animal can become a symbol of intense energy, as, for example, the bull,
the lion, and the eagle in religious symbolism. Second, it can become the most vivid symbol for the demonic in nature, as expressed in the
serpent and the demonic animal figures and gargoyles of Gothic sculpture. The demonic "power" of animals appears in a shocking way in
the experience of the "guardian of the threshold" in occultism, a phenomenon that might be characterized as man’s intuition of himself in
abhorrent animal forms. In the light of this experience we can easily understand the offensive quality of abusive epithets drawn from the
names of animals. The strong reaction against such names may be explained as an unconscious assertion of the validity of the epithet and,
at the same time, as a deep inner resistance to this very assertion. Animals—this is the third direction in which their "power" can be seen
—are most important for religious sacrifices. They replace and represent the sacrifice of man which the gods or God rightly demand; and
so an animal, the lamb, can symbolize the great sacrifice on Golgotha in all Christian art and literature. The fourth point which can be
made about the "power" of animals’ shows the tragic limitations of their power. Mystics and romantics have discovered that something
like melancholy is expressed in the face of the animal, a feeling of frustration and bondage in the service of vanity, as Paul has called it.
According to such poetic-philosophical vision, nature generally and the animals especially have failed to reach the freedom and
spirituality which are the heritage of man.

The sense of the meaning and power of the human body has never been lost, despite the influence of mechanistic biology and medicine.
In the human body all the potencies of nature are concentrated, but in such a way that they transcend their lower forms and rise to a level
of freedom. In the human body nature enters history. The coming of the Kingdom of Heaven is accompanied by the healing of the human
body. The Christ is, as Jesus replies to the Baptist, to be recognized by his power of healing. The disciples receive the gift of healing,
because it belongs to the new being. In the body of the Christ nature is united with history. In the "center of history" nature reaches its
fulfillment in the body, which is the perfect organ and experience of the Spirit. This, of course, is the basis of the Lord’s Supper as a
sacrament.

The examples given so far deal with the power and meaning of natural objects. No realm of such objects is, in principle, excluded from a
sacramental consideration. But, beyond this, power and meaning can be found in situations and configurations of nature. We refer to the
old and also to the new belief that such complexes express something, which can be "read" out of them. The most famous example of this
belief is the astrological interpretation of nature. In our estimate of it we must distinguish two elements: the general presupposition of the
interdependence of all parts of the universe and the cosmic determination of the individual being, on the one hand; the method of

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deciphering and calculating special forms of this dependence, on the other hand. While the latter has no convincing methodological
foundation, the former is implied in the very concepts of cosmos or universe and in the philosophical, as well as the theological,
presupposition that everything participates in the ground and structure of being and, consequently, can and must be understood in unity
with the whole.

The power inherent in natural configurations is also visible in the rhythms of certain recurring events, like day and night, summer and
winter, seedtime and harvest, and also in the rhythms of human life, such as birth and puberty, work and rest, maturity and death. The
power inherent in these rhythms of nature has in all times given rise to their use as bearers of sacral power. Most rites of initiation or
consecration and many of the great festivals have their origin here. An awareness of the power in these rhythms of nature still plays an
important role in Jewish and Christian historical thinking and in their idea of a history of salvation. The syncretizing of the pagan with the
main Christian festivals has its roots in the historical-realistic interpretation of nature in Christianity.

These examples, which could be augmented almost indefinitely, must suffice. But one natural process—the most important for the
Protestant attitude toward nature—must be given considerable attention, namely, the "word." Like all other objects and complexes in
nature, the word had originally a magical significance. It had a power in itself as, for instance, the holy word Om in India; the incantations
and charms all over the world; and the remnants of this basic feeling in the liturgical formulas of the Christian churches. Indeed, the sense
of this power has been so great that any suggested change in certain of these words would meet the most fanatical religious resistance.
This fact shows that it is not the meaning as such, which could be expressed in different ways, but the inherent magical or quasi-magical
power that is decisive. In direct contrast to the magical word we have the "technical" word as it employed, for instance, in commercial
trade names. We find the best examples of this type in artificial words, such as, for example, "Socony," "A and P," and "C.I.O.," or in the
attempt of Esperanto to create a purely utilitarian means of communication. The same meaning could be just as well expressed by some
other combination of sounds. Yet it should not be overlooked that a cleverly selected commercial trade name possesses a suggestive force
and does eventually acquire a new power.

The word as a device of aesthetics transcends both the magical and the technical word, although it is ultimately rooted in the magical use
of words—we still speak of the "magic of poetry." But the aesthetic form in which sound, rhythm, and meaning are united mediates the
magic of a poem. Since the end of the nineteenth century a struggle has been directed against the banalization of the aesthetic word in
poetry and prose. "Banal" is a characterization for words that have lost their original power by daily use and abuse or by the
disappearance of an originally powerful meaning embodied in them. Nietzsche, Stefan George, Rainer Maria Rilke, and many others tried
to save language from this sort of degeneration. They fought a desperate and not always successful fight against the disintegration of
language as a spiritual power in a world of mass communication and of continuous lowering of the spiritual level. Movements of liturgical
reform have worked in the same direction in Catholicism as well as in Protestantism. But it is not enough to rediscover and use the
language of periods that possessed greater power of spiritual expression than ours does. It is necessary to find expressions adequate to our
own situation, words in which the transcendent meaning of reality shines through a completely realistic and concrete language, the
language of self-transcending realism. On this ground alone can Protestantism create a new sacramental word?

There are many other realms and elements of nature whose relation to sacramental thinking could be discussed. The examples given so far
are offered to show a way in which Protestantism in its cultus, as well as in its ethos, could reach a more affirmative attitude toward
nature. The lack of such an attitude has greatly contributed to the rise of an anti-Christian naturalism, which has not only scientific but
even stronger emotional roots: the religious devaluation of nature has been answered by a naturalistic devaluation of religion.

VI. Sacramental Objects

Any object or event is sacramental in which the transcendent is perceived to be present. Sacramental objects are holy objects, laden with
divine power. From the point of view of the magical interpretation of nature, any reality whatsoever may be holy. Here the distinction
between "the holy" as divine or as demonic, as clean or unclean is not yet known. At this stage the unclean and the holy can still be looked
upon as identical. The significance of prophetic criticism lies in the fact that it dissolves the primitive unity between the holy and the real.
To the prophets the holy is primarily a demand. Nothing can be holy apart from the fulfillment of the law. Holiness and purity are brought
together. The "unclean" is eliminated from the idea of the holy. To the extent to which this process takes place the original sacramental
interpretation of nature disappears. The holy is now transformed into an unconditional demand, transcending any given reality. Nature as
such is deprived of its sacred character and becomes profane. Immediate intercourse with nature no longer possesses religious
significance. Ritualistic demands are transformed into ethical (and utilitarian) demands. Nevertheless, the sacramental attitude does not
lose its power. Indeed, it can never entirely vanish from the consciousness. Unless the holy has some actuality, its character as a demand
becomes abstract and impotent. In Hegel’s view that the "idea" is not lacking in the power to realize itself we can still discern a residue of
the sacramental attitude, in contrast to the anti-sacramental, critical, and moralistic attitude of the Enlightenment. If this holds true for the
secular sphere, it is all the more true for the religious sphere. No church can survive without a sacramental element. However effectively
prophetic criticism serves to make impossible an absolute reliance upon the holy as present, however effectively it opposes every fixation
and every objectification of the sacrament, it cannot do away with the sacramental background; indeed, prophetic criticism itself is
possible only by virtue of this background. Just as Old Testament prophecy in its vehement attack upon the demonic sacramentalism into

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which the old worship of Yahweh had fallen continued to hold to the sacramental idea of the covenant between God and nation, so the
Protestant fight against Roman Catholic sacramentalism remained bound to the Scripture as an expression of the presence of the divine in
Jesus Christ. Any sacramental reality within the framework of Christianity and of Protestantism must be related to the new being in
Christ. No Protestant criticism would be conceivable in which this foundation was denied.

But if the presence of the holy is the presupposition of any religious reality and any church, including the Protestant churches, then it
follows that the interpretation of nature in sacramental terms is also a presupposition of Protestantism, for there is no being that does not
have its basis in nature. This holds true also for personality. If the holy is seen as present in a personality, if the personality shows that
transparence for the divine, which makes the saint a saint, then this is expressed not only in his spiritual life but also in his whole
psychological organism, in "soul and body." The pictures and sculptures of the saints would be meaningless without the presupposition
that their sainthood is expressed in their bodies and especially in their faces. Sainthood is not moral obedience but "holy being," a
substance out of which moral and other consequences follow. The "good tree" precedes the "good fruit." But where the "holy being" is
accepted as the "prius" of the holy act, there the basic principle of all sacramental thinking is also accepted: the presence of the divine, its
transparence in nature and history.

VII. Protestantism and Sacrament

Protestant thinking about sacraments must not revert to a magical sacramentalism, such as has been preserved by Catholicism down to our
own time. No relapses to a pre-prophetic or pre-Protestant attitude should occur on Protestant soil.

This means, first of all, that there can be no sacramental object apart from the faith that grasps it. Apart from the correlation between faith
and sacrament, there can be no sacrament. From this it follows that a sacrament can never be made into a thing, an object beside other
objects. The intrinsic power of nature as such does not create a sacrament. It can only become a bearer of sacramental power. Of course,
without such a bearer there can be no sacramental power, the holy cannot be felt as present. But the bearer does not in and of itself
constitute the sacrament. Moreover, we must remember that for a Christian the idea of a purely natural sacrament is unacceptable. Where
nature is not related to the events of the history of salvation its status remains ambiguous. It is only through a relation to the history of
salvation that it is liberated from its demonic elements and thus made eligible for a sacrament. However, their relationship does not
deprive nature of its power. If it did, that would mean that being itself would be destroyed; for the intrinsic power of things is their power
of being, and for them to be without power would mean that they were without being. When the term "being" is employed other than as an
abstract category, it means the power to exist. To say that the world has been created is to say that power of being has been given to the
world. And the world retains this power, even if it is demonically distorted. It is not because of an alleged powerlessness of nature that
Christianity cannot recognize purely natural sacraments; it is rather because of the demonization of nature. In so far, however, as nature
participates in the history of salvation, it is liberated from the demonic and made capable of becoming a sacrament.

It could be inferred from this that the Protestant interpretation of nature would attribute sacramental qualities to everything. No finite
object or event would be excluded as long as it was the bearer of a transcendent power and integrally related to the history of salvation.
This is true in principle, but not in our actual existence. Our existence is determined not only by the omnipresence of the divine but also
by our separation from it. If we could see the holy in every reality, we should be in the Kingdom of God. But this is not the case. The holy
appears only in special places, in special contexts. The concentration of the sacramental in special places, in special rites, is the expression
of mans ambiguous situation. The holy is omnipresent in so far as the ground of being is not far from any being; the holy is demonized
because of the separation of the infinite ground of being from every finite reality. And, finally, the holy is manifest in its power to
overcome the demonic at special places, ultimately at one place, in Jesus as the Christ. The danger of this situation is that the "special
places," the peculiar materials, the ritual performances, which are connected with a sacrament claim holiness for themselves. But their
holiness is a representation of what essentially is possible in everything and in every place. The bread of the sacrament stands for all bread
and ultimately for all nature. This bread in itself is not an object of sacramental experience but that for which it stands. In Protestantism
every sacrament has representative character, pointing to the universality of the sacramental principle.

The representative character of sacramental objects and events do not imply, however, that it is possible to create a sacrament arbitrarily
or that these objects or events are interchangeable at will. Sacraments originate when the intrinsic power of a natural object becomes for
faith a bearer of sacramental power. Sacraments cannot be created arbitrarily; they originate only by virtue of historical fate. All
sacramental realities depend upon a tradition, which cannot be abandoned arbitrarily or exchanged, with some other tradition. But it can
be destroyed by prophetic criticism. Protestantism has radically questioned most of the sacramental features of the Catholic tradition;
indeed, they have been abandoned on Protestant soil. And the process of reduction has not stopped with this. In the course of its history
Protestantism has become so indifferent to sacramental thinking that even the two remaining sacraments have lost their significance, with
the result that only the word has retained a genuinely sacramental character. In the revival of Reformation theology in our day, the word
plays an immense role, whereas the sacraments play no role whatsoever. It is fairly evident that the Protestant sacraments are
disappearing. To be sure, they can still have a long life simply because of the conservative character of all sacral forms. And then, too,
renaissances of one sort or another are by no means beyond the range of possibility. But the one thing needful is that the whole Protestant
attitude toward the sacraments be changed. Of primary importance for such a development is a new understanding of the intrinsic powers

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of nature, which constitute an essential part of the sacraments. We need also to realize that the word has its basis in nature, and hence that
the usual opposition between word and sacrament is no longer tenable. We must recognize the inadequacy of "Protestant personalism"
and overcome the tendency to focus attention on the so-called "personality" of Jesus instead of on the new being that he expresses in his
person. We must consider the unconscious and subconscious levels of our existence so that our whole being may be grasped and shattered
and given a new direction. Otherwise these levels will remain in a state of religious atrophy. The personality will become intellectualistic
and will lose touch with its own vital basis. The phenomenal growth of secularism in Protestant countries can be explained partly as a
result of the weakening of the sacramental power within Protestantism. For this reason the solution of the problem of "nature and
sacrament" is today a task on which the very destiny of Protestantism depends. But this problem can be solved only by an interpretation of
nature, which takes into account the intrinsic powers of nature. If nature loses its power, the sacrament becomes arbitrary and
insignificant. Of course, the power of nature alone does not create a Christian sacrament. Nature must be brought into the unity of the
history of salvation. It must be delivered from its demonic bondage. And just this happens when nature becomes a sacramental element.

The Protestant Movement

However, the questions still lingered for the Protestant movement, which began before the Council of Trent. Is marriage a sacrament, as the
Catholics decided? A few would say that the marriage rite is a physical act that creates a new spiritual reality. Others, such as Martin Luther
—a Catholic priest at the time—argued that marriage cannot be a sacrament for the simple reason that it is not exclusive to Christians. And
in fact, if you have a friend who is a Muslim, a Jew, or a Hindu, they will not ask you what marriage is, and you do not have to explain it to
them in Christian terms.

So the Catholics who were about to become Protestants argued that a better criterion for a sacrament would be a church rite that the gospel
writers explicitly depicted Jesus as instituting for all Christians during His earthly ministry. By this definition, they found fewer sacraments.
By their reasoning, ordination would not be a sacrament, because not every Christian is called to the ordained ministry. Marriage would not
be a sacrament, because it is not distinctly Christian, Jesus didn’t require it or institute it, and not all Christians are married. Anointing the
sick with oil would not be a sacrament, because they didn’t see Jesus instituting it in the gospels, and because healthy Christians do not
receive it.

Now what if Jesus instituted a church rite for all Christians, but the New Testament records it only in the form of an apostle’s testimony
rather than in a description of Jesus actually instituting it. Is it a sacrament? Catholics would say yes, but Protestants would say no.

So what are the sacraments for Protestants? At the beginning of his book, The Babylonian Captivity of the Church, Luther argued that there
were three: baptism, confession, and the Eucharist, because Jesus commanded all Christians to do these three. However, he did not feel that
one necessarily had to confess to the clergy, so it might be valid without being a church rite. So perhaps for that reason, Luther settled on
two sacraments, baptism and the Eucharist, by the time he finished writing the book. (Luther demonstrates the value of proofreading: the
same book that begins by asserting that there are three sacraments ends by asserting that there are two sacraments.)

What is a Sacrament?

The Church began in the east among Greek-speaking Jews, and so the language of the ancient church was Greek. The rites of the Church,
such as baptism and the Eucharist, were called mysteries of the church, and they still are in the Eastern Church. Mystery is a Greek word
that was often used in philosophical and religious discussions to refer to knowledge that was once unclear, but is now revealed. The actual
Greek word is μυστηριον (mysterion) in the singular, μυστηρια (mysteria) in the plural.
In worship, we still proclaim the mystery of our faith: Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again.

The ancient church called this the mystery of our faith because they believed that the Old Testament had been teaching these doctrines all
along, but they were only clear in Jesus Christ:

We are not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face to keep the Israelites from gazing at it while the radiance was fading away. But
their minds were made dull, for to this day the same veil remains when the old covenant is read. It has not been removed, because only in
Christ is it taken away. Even to this day when Moses is read, a veil covers their hearts. But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is
taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the
Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. —2
Corinthians 3:13-18, NIV

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As you can see in this passage, the ancient church believed that Christians are gradually being transformed into the likeness of our Lord.
Part of this transformation is the way we live our lives as agents of God’s providence among the people of the world, and part of it takes
place in the rites and ceremonies of the church. All of these rites and ceremonies reveal truth to us that was once obscure, so they were
called μυστηρια or, as we would say, mysteries.

By the end of third century, Latin had overtaken Greek as the language of common people in the western half of the Roman Empire.
Western clergy preached in Latin, western theologians wrote in Latin, and western scholars translated the Bible into Latin. Western
Christians heard the sermons, read the writings, and studied the Bible in Latin. The word μυστηριον was a problem. There was no Latin
word that corresponded to it. They could have transliterated the Greek word into Latin as mysterium, and they often did that, but that did not
solve the problem so much as avoid it, because most Latin-speaking people still had no idea what it meant. So western Christian scholars
used the word sacramentum to translate μυστηριον. These scholars included Tertullian, who was one of the earliest Latin theologians, and
Jerome, who translated the Bible into Latin about a hundred years later.

But where did they get this word and why did they choose it? They borrowed it from the Roman Army. A recruit for the Roman army
became a soldier by undergoing a sacramentum. The sacramentum had two parts: the soldier took an oath of office, and the Army branded
him behind the ear with the number of his legion. The sacramentum resulted in new responsibilities and new advantages. The soldier
acquired the responsibility for conforming to military discipline and obeying military commands. He also acquired social and legal benefits,
because living conditions in the Roman Army were very good and veterans received special privileges and benefits. Ancient Latin
theologians seized upon sacramentum as the best Latin equivalent of the Greek word mystery when it referred to a church rite, because the
church rite is simultaneously spiritual and physical, and because the person who undergoes the sacrament simultaneously receives new
responsibilities and a new spiritual status before God.

So that is how the word sacrament came into Christian theology in the west. For many centuries, the secular and the theological uses of the
word existed side by side. By the time of the Reformation, it was solely a Christian theological term.
Now how do we determine which rites of the church are sacraments?

The State of the Universal Church Today

The Roman Catholic Church has the most systematic treatment of sacraments, so I am using them as a framework. They uphold the
following rites of the church as sacraments:
Baptism
Baptism is the initiation rite into the Christian faith and into the Christian church. Everyone who uses the word sacrament considers it a
sacrament.
Confirmation
Confirmation is historically the second half of baptism. It got separated from baptism in the west by historical developments. Today, when
adults are baptized, they are confirmed in the same rite. In churches that practice infant baptism, confirmation can signify one or more of
the following: admission to the Eucharist for the first time, admission into full church membership, graduation from Christian education, or
prayer for the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Penance (Confession)
Anglican, Lutheran, Orthodox, and Roman Catholic Christians have a special church rite available to them where they can visit a member
of the clergy to obtain an assurance that they are forgiven for the sins they truly regret. The rest of us call it pastoral counseling.
The Eucharist
Eucharist, the Greek word for thanksgiving, is the original name of this rite, which today is also called Communion or the Lord’s Supper. It
was originally a weekly event. Catholics only need to take Communion once a year to be Catholics in good standing. The Protestant
Reformers originally wanted to restore weekly lay participation in Communion, but because of clergy shortages during the 19th century,
most denominations have fallen into monthly or quarterly Communion. The Eucharist is considered a sacrament by everyone who uses the
word sacrament.
Anointing of the Sick
Anointing and prayers for the sick comes from James 5. In the Roman Catholic Church, it gradually became a death rite, but it has recently
been restored to its proper use. Orthodox churches and many Protestant bodies anoint the sick for healing. Catholics, Orthodox, and many
Anglicans consider it a sacrament. Most Protestants do not.
Holy Orders
Holy orders is the rite of setting people aside as clergy; in other words, ordination. All churches have a rite of this type, but not all of them
consider it a sacrament.
Marriage
All churches have marriage rites, but only Catholics, some Anglicans, and some Orthodox refer to it as a sacrament.
Anglicans refer to Baptism and the Eucharist as sacraments, and sometimes refer to the other five rites in the Roman Catholic list as “rites
of the church commonly called sacraments.” So for Anglicans, the word sacrament is a little fluid.

Mainline Protestants generally only call baptism and the Eucharist sacraments. Their bodies have historically avoided the term sacrament
altogether. They have referred to the rites or ordinances of the church instead. Their lists of ordinances are not set in concrete, but they

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generally include equivalents of all the rites above. Today the word sacrament is staging a comeback among them, because the only reason
they were originally allergic to the word sacrament was because Catholics used it. Many people today don’t think that that is a valid reason
to avoid using a perfectly good word, because if we avoided all the words that Catholics use, we wouldn’t be able to talk at all.

The Orthodox do not define sacraments in the way that Roman Catholics and Protestants do. They refer to the mysteries of the church, and
they have not officially enumerated or defined them. They would consider all the sacraments in the Catholic list to be sacraments, but they
would not necessarily consider it a complete list.
I’m grateful to Robert B. Kelly, who contributed to this article.
See also:

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