Denominational Differences: A Lesson from the Great Pumpkin...and the Book of Romans

Tomorrow is Hallowe'en, which means it's time for the first of my favorite holiday specials: It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. I know it might be a little bit passe these days, but I am a die-hard Schultz fan, and I look forward to the Charlie Brown television specials every year. This year, I was fortunate enough to find the specials on sale at COSTCO in DVD format, which means I don't have to perform my yearly ritual of scouring the internet for showtimes. (We don't get a TV guide, and we don't watch television, so I never see the commercials announcing when the shows will air. I think ABC counts on people having one of these two resources at their disposal, because it is maddeningly difficult to find the showtimes on line. But, I digress.)

In It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown discovers his friend Linus van Pelt writing a letter to the Great Pumpkin, a sort of Hallowe'en Santa Claus figure who, Linus insists, flies through the sky on Hallowe'en night, delivering presents to all the children. Charlie Brown, naturally, is not a believer in the Great Pumpkin.

"When are you going to stop believing in something that isn't true?" he badgers Linus.

"When you stop believing in that fat guy in a red suit and the white beard who goes, 'Ho! Ho! Ho!'" Linus retorts.

Charlie Brown, realizing the argument is a draw, sighs, "Obviously, we are separated by denominational differences."

This is the core message of both It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and its slightly more popular counterpart, also masterminded by Schultz and Melendez, A Charlie Brown Christmas. In response to many orthodox and fundamentalist Christian sects' increasingly vocal disapproval of children's participation in the more secular traditions of Hallowe'en and Christmas--or even their celebration at all!--Schultz and Melendez used the popular Peanuts characters to offer a middle ground and a humorous way to examine exactly what is so bad--or not--about these holidays and the way they are celebrated in American culture.

Let's move our discussion, for a moment, to St. Paul's letter to the Romans:

Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgment on disputable matters. One man's faith allows him to eat everything, but another man, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables. The man who eats everything must not look down on him who does not, and the man who does not eat everything must not condemn the man who does, for God has accepted him...

One man considers one day more sacred than another; another man considers every day alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind. He who regards one day as special, does so to the Lord. He who eats meat, eats to the Lord, for he gives thanks to God; and he who abstains, does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God. (Romans 14:13, 5-6)

Here, St. Paul is speaking of "disputable matters." This naturally implies the existence of "indisputable matters," those points of Christian doctrine that are essential to the faith, which are not open for discussion or personal discernment. However, as the Church splinters farther and farther from its roots with the ever-increasing number of denominational niches, just what these indisputable matters might be becomes a very foggy notion, indeed.

In fact, we are beginning to see in our day a unique phenomenon--Christians who don't believe in Christ! These self-professed Christians claim to be followers of a wise and wonderful man named Jesus of Nazareth, but they do not believe He is the Christ, the Messiah, nor that He is the Son of God. Not long ago, this would have been the central indisputable matter. Those who did not hold with it were labelled heretics, or at least as "unbelievers." Yet, today even this is indisputable matter is up for debate in some Christian circles.

When we don't have our central doctrines clearly defined, we run the risk of mistaking disputable matters for indisputable ones and vice versa. We also tend to form camps, largely culturally defined, which say that those who hold to certain beliefs will act upon those beliefs in a specific way.

Let us take the example of sorcery. Scripture and the Church tell us that the practice of sorcery is forbidden, that it is a sin. This is indisputable, but there are many disputable issues that stand in relation to the sin of sorcery: fantasy books, Star Wars, parlor tricks, illusionists, the daily horoscope in the newspaper, jack o' lanterns. Now, your stance on any of these disputable matters does not necessarily mean you truck with sorcery, that you are yourself a sorcerer, or that you support sorcery or deny it as sinful.

For example, you might jokingly read the horoscope in the newspaper for a good laugh with your friends, but that doesn't mean you put stock in it or that you are trying to displace God's sovereignty with a cheap substitute. You might carve jack o' lanterns on Hallowe'en because it is fun and spooky, but that doesn't mean you are planning to take yours to a coven for the evening. You might enjoy, as I do, reading fantasy books like Harry Potter or Twilight, but that doesn't mean that you would actually like to start casting spells or be bitten by a handsome vampire. If you do, maybe you should reconsider your choice of reading material. Fantasy, people; the key word is fantasy.
What does this have to do with the Great Pumpkin? Denominational differences. While Linus and Charlie Brown can come to a peaceful stalemate over their differences, all too often, we Christians take quite a different tack. We mudsling each other on blogs and in online chatrooms. We declaim each other from the pulpit, declaring one person "wicked," one "fallen," one "apostate." We point fingers, we criticize, we ridicule, and we judge, judge, judge. All because we fail to heed the words of St. Paul.

Of course, it's tricky. We're not dealing with humorous, fantastical beings like Santa Claus or the Great Pumpkin. We're fighting over issues of doctrine, some that we may hold very dear. I think, though, that we wouldn't get so caught up in these fights if we were more confident about the indisputable matters. If we knew which issues were worth taking a stand on, we wouldn't sweat the small stuff. If we were firm in principle, we wouldn't be so concerned with practices that might look different from ours.

If I can say, "The issue is modesty," then I don't need to point fingers at a sister in a tanktop or a brother on the beach in speedo. I can calmly say to myself, "Perhaps, to them, this is modest...and fashionable." And, I get over it and move on. Because nowhere in Scripture does it say, "Thou shalt not wear spaghetti straps nor shalt thou wear speedos." (I don't know. There might be a line about speedos somewhere in Leviticus...) If I can say, "The issue is the practice of sorcery," then I don't have to get bent out of shape over jack o' lanterns and ghost stories and Harry Potter. I can just give the benefit of the doubt and say, "Obviously, we are separated by denominational differences."

Seriously, these things are not worth the battle so many make them out to be. There are indisputable matters of faith that are being challenged, undermined, and denied even from within the Church. There are battles to fight, but we have to know how to pick them. It's really not worth the trouble to get all worked up over whether its a sin to give a bite-sized Snickers' bar to a little girl dressed as a fairy princess on Saturday night.

Let's give each other the benefit of the doubt. Let's trust the power of the Holy Spirit working in the lives of all the baptized. Let's be fully convinced in our own minds, and trust others to do the same. And, let's stop sweating the small stuff. In the oxymoronic words of Charlie Brown, "Good grief!"