Not All Swords Should Be Plowshares (Yet)

There is a lot that I get about guns, the love of guns, opposition to guns, and varying opinions on guns. I get that generally Transatlantic discussions about guns are plagued by situational differences that too often don't get highlighted. I get (while many of my European friends don't) that the gun situation in America is wildly different than it is in many places in Europe. Americans have an uninterrupted history of gun ownership and Constitutional protection of that ownership written in black and white. The American proliferation of firearms is so ubiquitous that you couldn't confiscate them even if A) you had the most powerful government ever known and B) you wanted to. Europe is neither cursed with (from their point of view) nor enjoys (from an American point of view) anything comparable to the Second Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.

I get it. People don't like the violence that too-often comes with firearms. They are tools designed to do violence, and they are very, very good at it. It seems intuitively obvious to many people that a society where nobody is armed is a safe society. Even though I find that sentiment na├»ve, unachievable, and contrary to reality, I can still appreciate the desire to keep guns out of the hands of ordinary citizens. 

What I cannot fathom, however, is the rationale and historical circumstances that led to European nations disarming their police forces. The job of police forces are to keep law and order. Simple common sense ought to indicate that people who need such policing (those the Bible and George W. Bush famously call "evildoers") disproportionately tend toward violence.

When Lee Rigby was murdered in broad daylight on the streets of London, the police officers who arrived were helpless to intervene. They "set up a cordon." I'm sure that was a relief to Mr. Rigby as he was having his head hacked off.

Today ten journalists and two police officers were murdered by terrorists wielding AK-47s in broad daylight in Paris. As of this writing, they have gotten away with it. The officers who arrived on the chaotic scene were forced to flee rather than intervene. They weren't just outgunned. They were unarmed.

Again: what is the rationale? 

And: who in the world would take that job?

You can make a respectable (if wrong) case for disarming citizens. I cannot conjure a respectable argument for why those tasked with dealing with potentially violent criminals and (in the 21st century) terrorists should be helpless when they are faced with actually... dealing with them.

Paul's letter to the Romans calls the civil magistrate God's servant who wields the sword (Ch.13). It seems many European governments have beat their swords into plowshares a tad prematurely. It is a grave disservice to law enforcement officers (not least the two who lay dead on a sidewalk just this morning, having been shot like dogs in a helpless cower), as well as for those they are tasked to protect. It is an abdication of the responsibility God has given civil rulers.

I'll stop trying to be nice. That makes it immoral. 

The Great Missing Canon Question

It has become popular conventional wisdom that Christianity didn't have a Bible until the fourth century. Prior to Emperor Constantine, so it is said, there was no "fixed" number of books in the New Testament. It was a fluid time of negotiation in which lots of books vied for inclusion in a collection of books considered to be "Holy Scripture," including some that were eventually left out (e.g., Gnostic gospels).

And then, as the legend goes, the powerful Constantine and his cronies tired of the chaos, authoritatively put their foot down, and selected the 27 books that would be the New Testament. Dan Brown's Da Vinci Code went so far as to suggest that this occurred at the Council of Nicaea in 325. Kurt Eichenwald, in his ridiculous hit piece on the Bible in last month's Newsweek, repeats the claim that Constantine "ultimately influenced" which books made it into the New Testament.

There are lots of problems with this mythical telling of church history, not the least of which is that the Council of Nicaea never even addressed the question of what books "belong" in the New Testament, much less dictated it. Oops. 

There's an even stronger historical indicator, however, that by the time Constantine reigned the books of the New Testament were near universally understood.

In 331 Constantine wrote a letter to Eusebius of Caesarea asking him to prepare 50 Bibles for use in Rome's churches. Remember, books were not printed at this time; they were copied by hand. A commission for 50 volumes was an astonishingly large request and a massive undertaking. 

If you look carefully, there is something very important missing in the letter.

It apparently never occurred to the Emperor to instruct Eusebius what books to include in the Bibles. And it never occurred to Eusebius to even ask. There is only one plausible interpretation of these deafening silences: the status of the Christian canon was implicitly understood. Can you imagine a world in which there is hot controversy over the number of books in the New Testament, receiving a request from the Emperor of the known world for copies of the Bible, and not clarifying what he wanted in them? Neither can I.

That's because there was no hot controversy. Whatever messy confusion had existed about the question had obviously been so settled in the public mind that Constantine didn't feel the need to specify, and Eusebius didn't feel the need to ask. Moreover, I would suggest that for that level of implicit understanding, the question must have been settled for a very long time. Remember, this is a request from the Emperor: sort of a maximal, life-or-death kind of situation (what if he left out Constantine's favorite book!?). I would personally interpret this to mean that the question of the canon cannot have been a live issue in Eusebius's living memory. Sure, he was aware of "disputed books," but if he had lived through a period of "hot debate" about it, there seems to me no question but that he would have done his due diligence and asked.

Thus, the great canon controversy, far from being authoritatively "settled" in the fourth century by Constantine, wasn't by then even controversial at all.