The Dartmouth historian Udi Greenberg has taken on an important and ambitious topic: the evolution of Protestant-Catholic relations in continental Western Europe from the late nineteenth century through the 1970s. Few would deny that relations between the two confessions improved markedly over this period. Whether this progress amounts to anything like an “end of the schism,” however, is another matter entirely. This questionable thesis—combined with some analytic shortcomings and several factual errors—ultimately weakens Greenberg’s book. Before turning to those criticisms, however, one should recognize what the book does well.

Greenberg has done genuinely impressive research, mining many often-obscure French- and German-language sources seldom consulted by Anglo-American scholars. In a word, he has done his homework—and in multiple languages. Anyone interested in the religious life and theology of this era—particularly in matters of socioeconomic theory, sexual ethics and family life, and overseas missions in their late colonial and postcolonial contexts—will profit from his extensive endnotes, which are arguably the most valuable part of the book.

The narrative itself covers a lot of ground. Chapter one of The End of the Schism treats the nineteenth century as a “second confessional age,” taking its cue from the influential thesis of the German historian Olaf Blaschke. Chapter two turns to the period from the 1880s to the 1930s, when Catholics and Protestants, the author claims, shared “a series of overlapping concerns about life in the modern world,” including the perceived threats of socialism, feminist and sex-reform movements, and the challenges of overseas missions. Chapter three examines ecumenical stirrings as both of the confessions confronted Bolshevism and Nazism—though, regrettably, many Christian leaders cozied up to the latter, viewing it as the lesser of two evils and sometimes even welcoming it. Chapter four surveys the postwar era, showing Catholics and Protestants jointly supporting social democracy even as they grappled with feminism, cultural upheaval, and decolonization. Greenberg’s discussion of the midcentury ecumenical consensus around social democracy is especially strong. The final chapter treats the 1960s and ’70s, when many Catholics and Protestants embraced the progressive causes of the New Left—what Greenberg terms a “radical and progressive ecumenism.”

But enough summary. The book’s weaknesses are glaring, and they raise the question of whether Harvard University Press—usually a reputable publisher—served the author well in the peer-review process.

To begin with, while Catholicism may plausibly be treated as a relatively unified phenomenon, “Protestantism” certainly cannot. Using the term as an undifferentiated category throughout is misleading. What Greenberg usually means is mainline Protestantism—churches aligned with the ecumenical movement and the World Council of Churches. A more robust acknowledgment of Protestant heterogeneity would have complicated, but also enriched, his argument and worked against several sweeping generalizations.

Moreover, while Greenberg forthrightly states that he is not discussing the Anglo-American world, this decision leads him to formulate general claims about Europe that could not be maintained if his lens were wider. For instance, he writes that missions shifted around the turn of the twentieth century away from “conversion” toward a “general educational process.” The distinguished historian of missions Andrew Walls argues precisely the opposite: that missionaries, having earlier engaged in educational and humanitarian tasks—such as the struggle against the slave trade—actually turned more decisively toward conversion in this era. Similarly, Greenberg claims that the indigenization of the clergy began only in the 1930s. Walls and others would insist that the process began earlier and was well underway by the late nineteenth century.

One would expect a study on this subject to engage seriously with the Second Vatican Council and its repercussions. Yet the council receives a mere two pages. Nor does Greenberg mention arguably the most important Catholic ecumenist of the twentieth century, Cardinal Augustin Bea. Equally puzzling in a work that discusses missions at length, he omits any reference to leading Catholic theorists of mission in the twentieth century, such as the German Joseph Schmidlin or the Belgian Pierre Charles, or to major papal encyclicals on missions, beginning with Benedict XV’s Maximum illud (1919). In fairness, Greenberg makes clear that he is not writing “church history” per se. But these figures and texts and the council itself are not optional background; they are central to the very themes he seeks to address.

Then there are the factual errors. Seeking to qualify his account of the nineteenth century as a confessional era, Greenberg invokes Ignaz von Döllinger, a major ecumenist avant la lettre. He claims, however, that the ecumenical conferences Döllinger planned “never took place.” This is simply wrong. Under Döllinger’s supervision, two major ecumenical conferences took place at the University of Bonn in 1874 and 1875, involving Orthodox and Anglican theologians as well as Catholics disaffected by the ultramontane triumph at Vatican I. (I recently spoke at a conference in Bonn marking the 150th anniversary of these meetings.) Equally erroneous is his claim that the radical Chilean theologian Sergio Torres “launched” the Ecumenical Association of Third World Theologians in 1976. In fact, the initiative came from Oscar Bimwenyi, a Congolese theologian studying at Louvain; Torres played a largely organizational role.

The End of the Schism is also clotted with gratuitous expressions of political correctness. It is unnecessary to remind readers repeatedly that when many of the historical actors discussed “the family,” they meant the “heteronormative” or “patriarchal” family—this is obvious. Nor must every discussion of missions be peppered with reminders that missionary attitudes were often “paternalist.” Greenberg’s frequent reliance on scare quotes—around terms such as “natural” in sexual debates or “civilizing” or “uplifting” in colonial discourse—becomes a tedious stylistic tick. And in the book’s conclusion, he laments the contemporary plight of trans people and the state of gender studies—worthwhile topics, but remote from the chronological and thematic scope of the book.

Alas, The End of the Schism promises more than it delivers—and what it delivers is often wanting. Yes, in a secularized Western Europe, Catholics and Protestants today enjoy more cooperation than in the past, but the “schism” of the sixteenth century remains an enduring reality. Moreover, many Protestant bodies and the Catholic Church itself are rent internally by “culture war” ideological divisions. Many ecumenists today even speak of an “ecumenical winter,” marking a decline in ecumenical enthusiasm since the years immediately following the Second Vatican Council. In short, while readers may benefit from the author’s notes—and from parts of the text itself—they should remain skeptical about the bold claims implied by the book’s title. 

The End of the Schism
Catholics, Protestants, and the Remaking of Christian Life in Europe, 1880s–1970s
Udi Greenberg
Harvard University Press
$39.95 | 368 pp.

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