Calvin Today: Reformed Theology and the Future of the Church 9781472551122, 9780567136930

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Foreword

The 500th anniversary of John Calvin’s birth was not just an occasion to remember the past. It was even more important to focus on the current significance of his legacy, which happens much more rarely. Historical studies loom large in the present day reception of Calvin, for understandable reasons. Recently, a host of historical analyses and biographical reconstructions have appeared on the subject of Calvin. Not least, the reasons for this are that, particularly in the German-language area, commentators have persistently misrepresented him, particularly his time in Geneva, even with malicious intent. This has made it practically impossible to engage appropriately with Calvin. Despite all the questions that remain unanswered, the numerous historical studies on the social situation of the city of Geneva in the sixteenth century enable us to form a sufficiently detailed picture that unmasks the usual caricatures of Calvin and to some extent also ‘Calvinism’, showing them to be misrepresentations. This volume deliberately looks in another direction. It attempts to trace back the present significance of Calvin for Reformed theology and the future of the church. The radiation and relevance of Calvin’s work is tackled from different perspectives, sometimes directly, sometimes more indirectly through the choice of a certain focus on Calvin, characterized or challenged by topical questions. It is not simple transitions to directions for modern use that are under discussion, but substantive theological insights linking up in a stimulating way with today’s theological debates and potential future. The chapters in this book show that concerning ourselves with his theology still has a most inspiring and motivating effect. Again and again, Calvin’s consistent theology speaks with stringent clarity and sometimes even with liberating relevance and modernity. We have structured the collection of papers under three thematic headings, which, inspired by Calvin, develop insights from Reformed theology for the future of the church: faith – ecumenism – public responsibility. They are not specific to Calvin; however, in each dimension, Calvin has something specific to say.

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Faith – While Luther’s theology first asks how human beings tormented by sin can find a merciful God, Calvin’s theology changes the perspective and asks how God deals with the persistent presence of human sin. How do sinful humans justified by God respond to their creaturely calling in their new lives – in fellowship with Christ and in the life of the church as the body of Christ? For Calvin, the chief end of life is to know God and devote our life to his glory. The still topical point is that we are freed from our fixation with ourselves, thereby recognizing and living out our true reality in relation to God. Ecumenism – The church unity already given in Christ is fundamental for Calvin and for Reformed theology. We must do our utmost to confess it and make it visible. If there is agreement in the understanding of God and grace, all other differences have no church-dividing importance. Calvin was a passionate advocate of cohesion between the churches, which had to express their ‘being church’ appropriately in the plurality of their differing contexts. That still characterizes Reformed understanding today: the deliberately open tradition of Reformed confession connects contextual authenticity with the catholicity of the church as a whole. Public responsibility – Calvin, Reformed theology and Reformed churches pose the question about the church’s public responsibility, as no other Reformer and churches do. How, based on justification by faith alone, can Christian life take shape in the congregation? And how can life rooted in this new justice prove itself in the conflict areas of society? Part 3 reveals the sources of the worldwide impact of Calvin’s and Reformed theology on politics, the law, scholarship and the organizing of life in society, including civil society. These papers stem from an international Calvin Symposium hosted by the Evangelical Church of Westphalia, at its conference centre, Haus Villigst, 16–18 March 2009. They were an international ecumenical contribution to the Calvin anniversary year. The organizers and editors were Michael Beintker, Michel Weinrich and Michael Welker, representing academic theology, and Gerd Kerl and Ulrich Möller for the Evangelical Church of Westphalia. Its international and interdenominational character was particularly enriching. Experts presented from different contexts (USA, Canada, Scotland, Netherlands, France, Ghana, Brazil, South Africa, Italy, Switzerland and Germany) and denominational perspectives (United, Reformed, Lutheran, Anglican, Methodist, Catholic, World Alliance of Reformed Churches and World Council of Churches) along with different theological disciplines. The Evangelical Church of Westphalia kindly enabled the translation of the German contributions into English. The editors received immense support in the process of publishing these proceedings. In particular, Christina Schäfer went to great trouble in finding the standard English translations of the numerous references to



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original sources, for which the editors and translators, Pat Benbow and Elaine Griffiths, are extremely grateful. We also thank Henning Mützlitz for the careful edition of the translated texts and Thomas Kraft from T&T UK for the good cooperation. Heidelberg/Bochum/Bielefeld, Summer 2010 Michael Welker/Michael Weinrich/Ulrich Möller

Chapter 1

Faith – Introduction Michael Beintker Nowadays, symposia and congresses on Calvin are mostly historical in orientation. This means that interest in Calvin’s theology and the question of his significance for the church are easily sidelined. This symposium was quite different. From the start, it focused on discussing central themes in Calvin’s theology as they relate to the present, and resultant perspectives for Christian faith in the world of the twenty-first century. Calvin lived in a world that, in many ways, was quite different from our own. However, the questions that concerned him prove, on closer inspection, not to be as foreign to us as is often assumed. Sometimes, it is precisely the foreign, the ‘Other’ about Calvin that can inspire us. Then, we discover in Calvin the teacher, organizer and spiritual director of the church, whose ideas and thoughts have something quite fresh about them; indeed, they seem oddly modern. Calvin still has a lot to say to us. And the churches – not only the Reformed churches or the Protestant churches, but the churches in general – would miss out on important experiences and insights if they bypassed the Genevan Reformer. For example, there is the question of meaning – the whys and wherefores of reality. Significant thinkers of our age have diagnosed it as the issue of the epoch. Why do we live? Calvin replies as follows: the chief end of life is to know God and devote ourselves to his glory. People might find this answer a little unusual. In fact, however, this is exactly how we are saved from our fixation with ourselves so that we can look to God. And by looking to God, we find ourselves, without great tension or effort. It is perhaps no accident that the chapter by Beverly Roberts Gaventa comes first, which explores the significance of God’s glory with the aid of Calvin and Paul. The focus on his glory is the focus on the unimaginably lovely light of God, able to illuminate even the most profound darkness and the most atrocious misery. The light of Easter brings this glory into the midst of the world of death. And so the whole of creation is revealed in the light of God’s glory. Randall Zachman then takes up Calvin’s praise of nature in interpreting

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a psalm, and shows that whoever discovers God’s glory also discovers the glory of the heavens and the works of creation as the reflection and image of God’s glory. In the light of this glory, human beings will also develop a new relationship to the finitude of their lives. Life lived here and now moves completely into the providential context of God’s loving reality. Susan Hardman Moore demonstrates what that can be like. Her chapter takes us into the world of the seventeenth century, to Susanna Bell, an emigrant and re-emigrant, moving back and forth between the old and new worlds. On her deathbed, she passes on her experience with God’s Providence, and precisely in this hour of leave-taking, gives her surviving relatives courage and strength to look to God in their lives. Such life moves between its justification through God and its new purpose in fellowship with Jesus Christ. The related change of Christian life is characterized by a creative unity of freedom and commitment. Calvin sets great store by the credibility of Christian life. The famous question that Luther attributes to tempted human beings ‘How can I find a gracious God?’ is rephrased with Calvin to become God’s question, provoked by human sin: ‘How can I find human beings who respond to their creaturely calling?’ Calvin’s doctrine of the church looms large here. It turns out that the Reformed still have much to discover. It is not even clear to everyone that Calvin encourages us to celebrate the Lord’s Supper regularly in our services of worship. What a wonderful harvest we would reap from the 500th anniversary of Calvin’s birth if we could finally manage to overcome our Reformed asceticism regarding sacrament! Nor does the frequent glorification of the individual congregation match Calvin’s understanding of church. He always kept the big picture in mind, the catholicity and universality of the Church of Jesus Christ. Much of that is taken up in connection with the ecumenical perspective of this collection of papers. Just to note here that, according to Calvin, we cannot believe in God without the church: ‘To those to whom he is a father, the Church must also be a mother’. The church as mother! The Reformed confessions avoid this image – it was perhaps too Roman for them. For Calvin, it was extremely important. This mother gives us Christian life, puts us on the path of faith, raises and fosters, protects and shields, comforts and admonishes. The educational aspect that is part of motherhood means that, for Calvin, raising and educating children is one of the central tasks of the church. He was particularly concerned about schooling. Yet, the Christian community also plays the role of a school. Herman Selderhuis’s chapter explores Calvin’s view of childhood and youth. That proves to be an exciting new field of research. Calvin’s views



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on the world of children seem astonishingly progressive. Love expressed in patience and kindness aims to foster children in their development towards mature Christian adulthood. A child’s spirit is very fragile, Calvin thinks, and if parents are too strict, this can easily be destructive, or the child might see no sense in parental punishment and judge it to be an expression of lack of love. The most important educational resource of the Christian community is the Bible. This leads us directly to Calvin’s understanding of scripture, his hermeneutics and his interpretation of scripture. Unfortunately, Calvin the exegete is not always granted due attention. Frequently, Calvin’s interpretation is confined to his Institutes. Naturally, we are then still dealing with scripture, since Calvin considered his ‘doctrine of the faith’ to be the summation and highlighting of biblical statements – i.e. as a biblical theology that can depend on the whole wealth of biblical records. But Calvin’s theology takes on a quite different complexion when we add his scriptural expositions, both in his commentaries and his sermons. Here, we are at the very heart of the origins of his theological thinking, and observe the way it develops in the expectant encounter with the words of scripture, while always keeping the situation of readers and hearers in mind. Günther Haas shows how Calvin read and expounded scripture on the example of his exposition of 1 Tim. 4.1-5. Calvin’s exegeses were amazingly modern, in that he interpreted the texts by all the rules of exegetical art – i.e. critically and discerningly – but precisely in so doing, appraised them as sources of theological knowledge. Without turning to the Bible, faith will die: ‘Tolle igitur verbum et nulla iam restabit fides – Therefore, take away the Word and no faith will then remain!’ (Inst. 3 2,6). Calvin compared the biblical word to a mirror in which faith contemplates God: ‘Whether, therefore, God makes use of man’s help in this or works by his own power alone, he always represents himself through his Word to those whom he wills to draw to himself ’ (ibid.). We must allow that Word to move us if we want to know him. Consequently, the growth of a congregation is in direct relationship to its attentiveness to the Word in which God wants to reveal himself to it. With all these insights, we regularly encounter marked agreement between John Calvin and Karl Barth. Their common theme was the movement of God’s grace that liberates and yet claims our all. Michael Weinrich highlights what has linked Calvin and Barth across the ages, showing that Calvin’s theology inspired no other twentieth-century theologian at so many points as it did Karl Barth. But they held something else in common: the resoluteness and consistency with which they both gained their theological knowledge and represented it publicly. And what was a source of friction and offence proved fruitful for their time and beyond.

Chapter 2

‘For the Glory of God’: Learning the Future of the Church from Paul Beverly Roberts Gaventa The starting point of my chapter is John Calvin’s elegant identification of the world as ‘the theater of God’s glory’. As the early pages of the Institutes insist: human beings ‘cannot open their eyes without being compelled to see him’.1 Yet, as Susan Schreiner’s study of nature and the natural order in Calvin demonstrates, the ‘theater of God’s glory’ is not simply a positive assessment of creation; it is also a way of challenging the anthropocentric tendency that seems endemic in Christian faith and life.2 In response to Bishop Sadoleto, Calvin writes: [I]t is not very sound theology to confine a man’s thought so much to himself, and not to set before him, as the prime motive of his existence, zeal to illustrate the glory of God. For we are born first of all for God, and not for ourselves. As all things flowed from Him, and subsist in Him, so, says Paul (Rom. 11.36) they ought to be referred to Him.3

To the best of my knowledge, this important theme in Calvin’s work has largely been overlooked in contemporary New Testament scholarship, which repeatedly criticizes Reformed interpreters of Paul for their individualistic readings of Paul (most especially Luther, but Calvin is apparently guilty by association).4 As a small step in the direction of correcting this oversight, in this Chapter I explore the motif of God’s glory in Paul’s letter to the Romans. References to ‘glory’ also play an important role in 2 Corinthians, to be sure, but the importance of Romans for Calvin is obvious from the opening lines of his commentary (Romans is ‘an open door to all the most profound treasures of Scripture’5) as well as in his extensive use of Romans in the Institutes.6 Here, I am concerned with the ‘glory of God’, both for the role it plays in Paul’s explication of the gospel and for its contribution to Paul’s understanding of the church’s existence and its future.



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The glory of God in Romans Contemporary Pauline scholarship has largely neglected the importance of the notion of the ‘glory of God’. Even such major treatments of Paul’s theology as those of J. D. G. Dunn7 and Udo Schnelle8 devote little or no attention to the topic in their discussions of Paul’s understanding of God. Nor is it the case that contemporary discussions of Romans in particular give more than passing mention to the ‘glory of God’. Robert Jewett’s recent and massive commentary on Romans is representative of the tendency to overlook the importance of the concept.9 Indeed, to the best of my knowledge, the most recent, extensive discussion of ‘glory’ in the Pauline letters appears in Carey Newman’s 1992 study of Paul’s christology.10 The reasons for this relative inattention are not hard to locate, as the scholarly literature in the last 30 years has focused on Paul’s understanding of Jew and Gentile, his treatment of the law and his interpretation of scripture, resulting in the neglect of other issues, the glory of God among them. Yet, attention to the ‘glory of God’ runs throughout Romans. To begin with, 1.18-32 attributes the origins of humanity’s captivity to the powers of Sin and Death to humanity’s refusal to acknowledge the glory of God.11 Although ‘they’ had ample evidence of God, Paul asserts that ‘they’ ‘did not glorify God or give God thanks’ (1.21).12 Further, he writes that ‘they exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God with the mere likeness of an image of a corruptible human – and birds and four-footed animals and reptiles’ (1.23). This withholding of worship, this refusal to acknowledge that God is God, is the problem that generates all the other symptoms that Paul so relentlessly adduces in the remainder of the chapter. When Paul claims that humanity suppresses the truth (1.18) and later that no human being rightly stands in awe of God (3.10-18), it is God’s own glory that is being rejected (a fact that paradoxically results in the enlargement of God’s glory; see 3.7). The phrase ‘glory of God’ returns importantly in 3.23, with the statement that ‘all sinned and are deprived of God’s glory’. Here, the ‘glory of God’ is often understood as a reference to the glory of created humanity in Adam prior to the fall,13 and some examples from Jewish literature can be adduced in support of the claim that other Jews attributed to Adam a glory that was lost in the fall (1QS 4.23; CD 3.20; 3 Bar. 4.16; Adam and Eve 20.3; 21.6). Adamic glory cannot be presumed, however, since nowhere else does Paul refer to Adam’s glory; nor does he speak elsewhere of the glory of humanity in its created state. In Paul’s letters, the history of Adam is concentrated on the event of disobedience and the arrival of death (Rom. 5.12-21; 1 Cor. 15.22).14 When Paul says that humanity is deprived of

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God’s glory, he refers to the loss of its proper, worshipful relationship to God or, as Calvin puts it, ‘The glory which is in the presence of God’.15 A similar ambiguity may well be at work in 5.2, where Paul writes that ‘we’ who have been rectified ‘boast based on the hope of the glory of God’. Given the several connections between this passage and Rom. 8.18-21, it is not surprising that the reference to the glory of God here is customarily read as human hope for humanity’s own glory.16 However, in light of the fact that hope for Paul is usually hope in what God is going to do – eschatological hope – it seems entirely possible that this hope in the glory of God is also expectation of God’s own triumphant glory. However the phrases in 3.23 and 5.2 are interpreted, it is important to attend also to Paul’s assertion in 6.4 that Christ was raised from the dead ‘through the glory of the Father’. This passage is distinctive in that nowhere else does Paul combine reference to the resurrection with the preposition dia (‘through’ or ‘by means of’). There seems little ambiguity here. What Paul is saying is that the resurrection of Jesus Christ was achieved by the agency of the Father’s glory.17 Here, Calvin writes that the resurrection is brought about ‘by the splendid power by which He declares Himself truly glorious’.18 In addition, 9.23 describes God’s action in Israel’s history (and that of Gentiles) as action for God’s own glory. And in 15.7-13, a passage many regard as the culmination of the letter, he says that Christ ‘welcomed you for the glory of God’.19 This brief review of the evidence confirms that the phrase ‘glory of God’ is used at a number of important turns in the letter, but it says nothing yet about what connotations are to be inferred. To put the matter directly: would anything be lost to the letter if Paul had simply said ‘God’ rather than ‘the glory of God’? Is the phrase anything more than a loquacious way of saying ‘God’? It is at just this point that a review of the use of the phrase and its near equivalent ‘glory of the Lord’ in the LXX and other early Jewish texts is instructive. While in non-biblical literature, the word ‘glory’ regularly carries the connotation of ‘opinion’ or ‘reputation’, that is clearly not the case in the LXX, especially when used in reference to God.20 In many Septuagintal texts, the ‘glory of God’ refers to God’s own presence, as in: The glory of the Lord came down upon Mount Sinai and the cloud covered it for six days.... (Exod. 24.16) Then the cloud covered the Tabernacle and the Tabernacle was filled with the glory of the Lord. (Exod. 40.34) Moses and Aaron went into the Tabernacle and, when they came out they blessed all the people, and the glory of the Lord appeared to all the people. (Lev. 9.23)21 Be exalted over the heavens, O God, and let your glory be over all the earth. (Ps. 56.6)



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In a number of passages, however, this ‘glory’ of God (or the Lord) is not only the divine presence, but also that presence as it powerfully triumphs over God’s intractable enemies. The Song of Moses in Exodus 15 exults: Your right hand, Lord, has been glorified in its strength. Your right hand, Lord, shattered the enemies. And by the size of your glory you crushed those who were hostile. You sent your wrath, and it devoured them like a reed. (vv. 6-7; see also Isa. 66.12)

Isa. 30.27-33 similarly associates God’s glory with God’s wrath. Ezekiel associates the display of God’s glory with God’s judgement (Ezek. 39.21). The prayer of Habakkuk 3 anticipates the arrival of God’s glory that causes the nations to tremble and the mountains to shatter. Baruch 4.5–5.9 addresses comfort to the exiles with the promise that God – specifically God’s glory – will rescue them from their enemies (4.24; 5.6, 7, 9). In the Qumran Hodayoth, the arrival of God’s ‘glorious truth’ is associated with a cosmic struggle between God’s forces and those of God’s enemies (1QHa 3.32-36).22 This trajectory opens up the possibility that in Romans also, the phrase ‘glory of God’ is something more than an inflated way of referring to God or even to God’s presence; it is God’s salvific, powerful presence in an arena of opposition and conflict. That is to say, God’s glory is a shorthand reference to the fact of God’s active, even militant intervention on behalf of humankind. That should not be surprising, given the fact that this letter abounds in the vocabulary associated with conflict. A few examples will have to suffice, but Romans employs the terminology of slavery (e.g. 6.16-19, 20, 22; 7.6, 25; 8.15, 21; 12.11; 14.18), ruling/reigning (5.14, 17, 21; 6.12), reconciliation (5.10-11; 11.15), not to mention enemies (5.10; 8.7; 11.28; 12.20) and weapons (6.13; 13.12). And the language of conflict is particularly dense in Chs 5–6, just where Paul makes his unusual comment about the resurrection coming about ‘through the glory of the Father’.23

The church and God’s glory Put in this way, the discussion of God’s glory in Paul’s letter to the Romans could seem to be quite removed from the life of the church. References to cosmic conflict between God’s glory and the powers of Sin and Death do not immediately suggest directions for human life in the present. And Romans 8 could be understood to reinforce that notion, since it couples a strong motif of eschatological expectation for the glorification of the children of God with relative silence regarding life in the present (beyond a recognition of present suffering in vv. 18-25 and again in vv. 31-39). What

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is striking later in the letter, however, is the way in which Paul emphasizes the glory of God precisely in relation to the church’s own life. A minor caveat is in order here. As is frequently pointed out, the word ekklēsia is virtually absent in Romans, occurring only in Chapter 16 in the recommendation of Phoebe and in the greetings to Christians in individual house churches in Rome.24 Nevertheless, it is clear in a number of places in the letter, especially in the extended discussion in 12.1–15.6, that Paul has in view the shared life of those who have been called into the gospel (those to whom he refers in 1.7 as the ‘beloved of God, called to be holy’). There is already a bit of a paradox here that is seldom pondered, as Paul’s thoroughgoing eschatology might well have rendered him uninterested in human communities. He is only rarely concerned, for example, with questions of marriage and family.25 The discussion in 1 Corinthians 7 appears to have arisen entirely because the Corinthians themselves have asked (or more probably have reported) about their own practices. Despite his frequent use of familial language in the letters (where fellow believers are identified as Paul’s children as well as his brothers and sisters), the letters devote little or no attention to actual children or their education in the faith. While that silence may simply mean that Paul’s attention is constantly drawn to other matters, it also reflects his assumption that the Parousia is imminent and preparations for future generations assume relative insignificance (as in  1 Cor. 7.31; see also 1 Thess. 4.13-18; Rom. 13.11). Yet, despite his eschatological convictions, Paul is concerned with the internal life of the congregations, as is evident in every letter. The concerns range from their worship practices (1 Corinthians 12–14 especially) to their sexual conduct (1 Thessalonians 4; 1 Corinthians 5, 7) to their shared support of the poor in Jerusalem (2 Corinthians 8–9) to their mutual support and comfort for one another (1 Thessalonians 4). Even if Paul devotes virtually no attention to the question of church officers and the development of leadership (although see 1 Thessalonians 5), there is no question that he has the health of these fledgling communities ever before him. Paul’s evident interest in the life of these congregations could be attributed to his hopes to expand his mission; that is, each of these congregations becomes the base from which Paul extends his mission to a new area.26 Yet, that answer only raises the further question of the reasons for Paul’s mission in the first place. In my judgement, Paul’s concern for the life of these congregations is deeply connected with his comments about the ‘glory of God’. The church is the gathering of those who have been called and enabled to recognize the glory of God as it works in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ to bring about the redemption of humanity from the powers of sin and death.27 This understanding of the church comes into view most clearly towards the end of the discussion in Rom. 14.1–15.16 about conflicts over dietary



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and other practices. The exact nature of the disputes is the subject of extended scholarly discussion, but for the moment it must suffice to stipulate that some Christians (those who continue to be most closely identified with the synagogue, whether Jew or Gentile) regard it as compulsory to continue to follow kosher restrictions, while other Christians understand these restrictions to be at an end.28 Prominent in Paul’s response to this discussion is his insistence that, whatever the eating practices of these groups, all of them eat ‘in the Lord’, and all of them do so by ‘giving thanks to God’ (14.1-9). The advice that follows cautions the omnivores to be careful that their eating practices do not lead astray the more vulnerable members of the communities; despite this caution, Paul also declares that the omnivores are in the right (‘nothing is unclean in itself ’; v. 14). Crucially, the long discussion concludes with instructions about pleasing one another and with a prayer for the congregation’s unity. The closing words are quite specific: that God might grant that ‘you together with one mouth will glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ’. In the section that follows, vv. 7-13, which many scholars take to be the culmination of the entire letter, Paul expands on this notion of glorifying God together. Here, he explicitly introduces the language of Jew and Gentile and their shared indebtedness to Christ. He directs the Romans to ‘welcome one another, as Christ welcomed you – for the glory of God’. As he expands what he means by this, he repeatedly uses the language of  ‘glorifying’ God (v. 9), ‘confessing’ and ‘praising’ God (v. 9), ‘rejoicing’ (v. 10) and again ‘praising’ (v. 11). This notion of Jew and Gentile together praising God stands in stark contrast to the opening chapters of the letter, where (as noted earlier) Paul attributes humanity’s captivity to sin to its refusal to give God glory (Ch. 1). In addition, this passage contrasts to Ch. 3 vv. 10-20, Paul’s extended catalogue of charges against humanity that gives prominent attention to the corruption of speech (3.13-14) and concludes that the Law ‘speaks’ in order that ‘every mouth might be stopped’ (3.19). The defeat of Sin in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ by the glory of God (6.4, 9-11) creates a humanity, Jew and Gentile, that is able at last to glorify God together.29 As Barth puts it: ‘What the creature does in its new creatureliness, which in Jesus Christ has become gratitude to God, is to glorify God’.30 Now, I will readily admit that much of what I have said is not brought out in Calvin’s commentary on Romans, and I am not aware that Calvin develops anything like an apocalyptic reading of Paul (although I would be delighted to be corrected on that point). I suspect that, especially when I introduce the language of the powers of sin and death, I am reading more in the tradition of Luther’s commentary31 than that of Calvin. Nevertheless,

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Calvin does carefully articulate the relationship between the unity of believers and the glorifying of God. Note his comment on Roman 15: The chief point of his prayer [in v. 5] is to bring their minds to true concord and to make them truly agree with one another… according to Christ. Any agreement which is made apart from God is worthless… [W]e do not truly glorify God unless the hearts of all believers are united in His praise, and their tongues too join in harmony.

This comment sits importantly alongside Calvin’s comment to Sadoleto: if humanity is born not for itself but ‘to illustrate the glory of God’, and humanity cannot genuinely ‘glorify God unless the hearts of all believers are united in praise’, then unity among believers and the giving of glory to God are inextricably connected to one another.

The church, the glory of God and the future of Reformed theology It is at just this point that Romans (and Calvin’s reading of Romans) poses a distinct challenge to much in contemporary Reformed Christianity, at least in those forms of the church best known to me in North America. In Romans 15, as Calvin rightly saw, Paul anchors the church’s work with divided humanity (and the church’s own divided humanity) in God’s own triumphant glory. As I see it, the churches (Reformed and otherwise) seem determined to separate those two dimensions, emphasizing either some aspect of human need, fractured human lives, or escaping into contemplation of a spiritualized understanding of God. The challenge before the theological community is to insist that they belong together. The church exists, in all its fractured humanity, because of and for the glory of God, and it is God’s own glory acting in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ that brings about the redemption of humanity in, through and beyond its fractured state.

Notes   1. Inst. 1 5.1.   2. Susan E. Schreiner, The Theater of His Glory: Nature and the Natural Order in the Thought of John Calvin (Studies in Historical Theology 3; Durham, NC: Labyrinth Press, 1991), esp. 119–20.   3. A Reformation Debate. John Calvin and Jacopo Sadoleto (ed. John Olin; Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1966), 58.   4. A helpful account of this debate is given by Stephen Westerholm, Perspectives Old and New on Paul: The ‘Lutheran’ Paul and His Critics (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004). On individualism, see especially pp. 252–3.



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  5. The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Romans and to the Thessalonians (trans. Ross Mackenzie; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1990), 5.   6. R. Ward Holder, ‘Calvin as commentator on the Pauline Epistles’, in Calvin and the Bible (ed. Donald K. McKim; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 199–223; Gary Neal Hansen, ‘Door and passageway: Calvin’s use of Romans as hermeneutical and theological guide’, in Reformation Readings of Romans (eds Kathy Ehrensperger and R. Ward Holder; London: T&T Clark, 2008), 77–94.   7. J. D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998).   8. Udo Schnelle, Apostle Paul: His Life and Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2003). Thomas Schreiner’s work may constitute an exception to this comment, but he does not explore in any detail what work the expression ‘the glory of God’ does in Paul’s letters; instead, he simply equates it with ‘the supremacy of God’, which he takes to be ‘the passion of Paul’s life’ (Paul: Apostle of God’s Glory in Christ [Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2001], 35).   9. Robert Jewett, Romans (Hermeneia; Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2007). 10. Carey Newman, Paul’s Glory Christology: Tradition and Rhetoric (NovTSup 69; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1992). Newman provides a brief discussion of earlier treatments, including those of Boobyer, Schneider, Kittel, Berquist, and Carrez, the most recent of which (Carrez) was published in 1964. 11. I use the general term ‘humanity’ here instead of the specific term ‘Gentiles’, because, although Paul is making use of a traditional polemic against Gentiles (as in the Wisdom of Solomon 13–15), he does so in order to lay the groundwork for charges that include Jews as well (see especially 3.9-20). Interestingly, the Wisdom of Solomon does not include in its polemic the charge that Gentiles denied or rejected the glory of God. 12. All translations are my own unless otherwise indicated. 13. C. E. B. Cranfield, The Epistle to the Romans. Vol. I: Introduction and Commentary on Romans I–VIII. (ICC; Edinburgh: T.&T. Clark, 1975) 204; Ernst Käsemann, Commentary on Romans (trans. and ed. Geoff rey W. Bromiley; Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 1980), 95; J.D.G. Dunn, Romans 1–8 (Word Biblical Commentary Vol. 38A; Dallas, TX: Word Books, 1988) 168; N. T. Wright, N. T. Romans. The New Interpreter’s Bible. Vol. 10. (ed. Leander E. Keck et al.; Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2002), 470; Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Romans (AB33; New York: Doubleday, 1993), 347; Leander A. Keck, Romans (Abingdon New Testament Commentaries; Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2005), 106. 14. 1 Cor. 15.45-49 is perhaps less clearly negative, although even in that instance there is no description of Adam’s glory. 15. Romans 74. This statement should be coordinated with 1.24, 26, 28; by virtue of being ‘handed over’ to Sin and Death, humanity is removed from its relationship to God’s glory. 16. As in Cranfield 1.260; Dunn 1.264; Fitzmyer 396; Douglas Moo, The Epistle to the Romans. (NICNT; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996) 302. For Jewett see note 9; for a view closer to the one argued here, see Jewett 352. 17. Jewett reads this otherwise, but I think most are agreed on this point. It needs to be admitted that most commentators have very little to say about the statement, focused more on the baptismal motif in this passage. 18. Romans 123.

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19. See also 9.4 and 11.36. 20. Kittel, ‘δÓξα’, TDNT, 1964, 2:232–55; Newman, Paul’s Glory Christology, pp. 17–153; Ceslas Spicq, Theological Lexicon of the New Testament (3 vols.; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1994), 1:362–79; Newman, ‘Glory, Glorify’, New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible: Volume 2 (ed. Katharine Sakenfeld; Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 2007), 576–80. 21. Other examples are numerous, including Exod. 15.7; 16.7, 10; 24.17; 29.43; 33.18; Lev. 9.6; Num. 12.8; 14.10, 21–22; 16.19, 42. 22. The Synoptic statements about the coming of the Son of Man with ‘glory’ also warrant consideration here. 23. Notice especially that in 6.9-10, he goes on to say that Death and Sin no longer rule over Christ! The glory of the Father defeats Death and Sin. 24. This omission has prompted the theory of Günter Klein that Paul regarded the community at Rome as deficient because it had not been founded by an apostle. 25. At least this is true of the seven letters generally regarded as authentic. 26. Robert Jewett’s Romans commentary pursues just this interpretation, understanding Romans as a means for preparing for Paul’s planned mission in Spain. 27. To be sure, the church is the ‘first fruit of the Spirit’ (as in Romans 8) and the ‘body of Christ’ (as in 1 Corinthians, see also Romans 12). 28. The bibliography on this question is extensive; see especially John Barclay, ‘ “Do we undermine the law?”: a study of Rom. 14:1–15:6,’ in Paul and the Mosaic Law (ed. J. D. G. Dunn; Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1996), pp. 297–308. 29. The various ‘amens’ in the letter might be adduced at this point as well. 30. CD II.1, 669. He does not, it should be noted, cite Romans 15 at this point. 31. And of the Patristic tradition, as well.

Chapter 3

Calvin as a Model for Theological Interpretation of Scripture: Illustrated with his Exegis of 1 Tim. 4.1-5 Günther Haas T. H. L. Parker noted in an article published in 1966 that many books had been written on Calvin’s Institutes, but virtually none on Calvin’s commentaries. Parker suggested the reason for this: ‘in practice the “one book” has been regarded as infinitely more important, that the Institutio is definitive and the Commentaries at most illustrative of Calvin’s thought, in brief, that the Institutio was Calvin’s lifework, the Commentaries merely incidental’.1 One can understand why the Institutes had been the focus of scholarly work on Calvin’s thought. The final edition of 1559 is a remarkable achievement of synthesizing and systematizing Reformation theology, the culmination of a lifetime of study and reflection, developing the 1536 (first) edition through four revisions and expansions.2 François Wendel calls it a ‘monumental work’, which had immense success and impact, even in Calvin’s lifetime, and which was largely responsible for a Calvinist orthodoxy.3 But, in another sense, this neglect and marginalization of Calvin’s commentaries goes against his explicit words of introduction to the Institutes. In the preface to the greatly expanded 1539 Latin edition of the Institutes – a preface that Calvin included in the three subsequent editions with only minor changes – he clearly indicates that the purpose of this work is to prepare and instruct people for the reading of and proper advancement in the written Word.4 An additional preface – to the French edition of 1560 – reiterates the same sentiment, namely, that the work is ‘a key to open a way for all children of God into a good and right understanding of Holy Scripture’.5 So, Calvin does not intend that the Institutes become a replacement for reading scripture; rather, he intends for it to serve as a guide for gaining great benefit from the study of the Bible. In fact, the 1560 preface ends with Calvin’s exhortation to the readers to study scripture carefully to evaluate whether or not the content of the Institutes is truly derived from it.

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Parker gave himself to this field of neglected Calvin scholarship with the publication in  1971 of Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries.6 This drew scholars’ attention to the importance of examining Calvin as a biblical expositor,7 and prompted many further works on Calvin’s exegesis, hermeneutics and biblical interpretation, as well as on his sermons. These studies have also unfolded the relationship between his commentaries and the Institutes – how they serve to complement each other. A parallel development in the area of biblical hermeneutics since the early 1990s has been the movement known as the theological interpretation of scripture. Though not directly related to the growth of knowledge of Calvin as a biblical commentator, it has led to an interest in the methods of the exposition of scripture by pre-modern interpreters such as Calvin.8 This theological perspective attempts to read the Bible as the Word of God, allowing the subject matter to shape the reading of scripture. It includes themes such as reading scripture as spiritual activity, Christ as the central focus of scripture, the Bible as a unified story, guided by the rule of faith (regula fidei) and the church as scripture’s interpretative community.9 The result of recent work in Calvin scholarship has shown that these are also key themes in Calvin’s hermeneutical method. The goal of this chapter is to present the main conclusions of recent work on Calvin’s exposition of scripture so as to gain insight on recovering a theological interpretation of scripture. I begin by summarizing the key points that Calvin makes concerning the relationship between the Institutes and his commentaries. Then, noting the principal hermeneutical themes that shape his exposition of scripture, I illustrate these with reference to the doctrine of Christian freedom, as presented in Calvin’s Institutes, his commentary on 1 Tim. 4.1-5 and his three sermons on this passage.10 The concluding comments point out the value of Calvin’s theological exposition of scripture as a model for the church today.11

The Institutes and the commentaries Calvin published his greatly expanded second edition of the Institutes in 1539, and his commentary on Romans in 1540.12 He was likely working on both simultaneously prior to publication, and thus he developed a view of the significance of each in the life of the church.13 In the dedication to his commentary on Romans,14 Calvin indicates that in interpreting scripture, the biblical expositor should be guided by the virtue of ‘lucid brevity’ (perspicua brevitate). To reveal ‘the mind of the writer’, one should not wander far and wide in explanation so as to stray from ‘the meaning of the author’. Expositions of biblical texts should be concise (brevitas) and



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should make the meaning of the biblical authors’ words easily understood (perspicuitas) to the readers so as to be relevant to the lives of God’s people.15 These virtues stand in contrast to the ‘long and wordy commentaries’ of some of his contemporaries, which contain lengthy discussion of doctrinal loci (Melanchthon) or of numerous exegetical, interpretive and theological discourses (Bucer).16 Calvin’s solution to the problems associated with his contemporaries’ commentaries is to restrict the content of his commentaries to exegesis of the words of the biblical texts, and to discuss the theology arising from these texts in separate works. So, his commentaries focus on expounding the biblical texts with brevity and clarity. The theological works, notably the Institutes, deal with the whole of scripture, arranging theology in an ordered and coherent manner.17 Nevertheless, Calvin does believe that systematic theology is the necessary framework for the study of scripture. This is clear in the preface to the 1539 Institutes and in his preface to Romans. By presenting ‘the sum of religion in all its parts’, the Institutes serves several functions. First, it allows Calvin to condense his commentaries by avoiding the need for long doctrinal discussion. He expects people to read his commentaries armed with the Institutes. Second, as a summary of doctrine found in the whole of scripture, the Institutes serves to prepare people, especially candidates for the ministry, ‘for the reading of the divine Word, in order that they may be able to have easy access to it and advance in it without stumbling’. Third, the Institutes guides the reader ‘to determine what he ought especially to seek in Scripture, and to what end he ought to relate its contents’.18 After the final edition of the Institutes was translated into French in 1560, Calvin wrote an additional preface to the French edition. By then, he had completed his commentaries on all of Paul’s epistles, and was in the process of writing commentaries on the remaining books of the Bible. He restates the goals that he acknowledged in the preface of the 1539 edition of the Institutes. He mentions a broader target audience, noting that the goal of the work is to direct ‘all children of God into a good and right understanding of Holy Scripture’, so that those less practiced in the faith do not wander aimlessly in scripture, but rather ‘hold to a sure path, that [they] may be always pressing toward the end to which the Holy Spirit calls him’.19 His final statement places the Institutes under the authority of the Bible: ‘Above all, I must urge [the reader] to have recourse to Scripture in order to weigh the testimonies that I deduce from it’.20 We can summarize what the comments in Calvin’s preface to his commentary on Romans, as well as the two prefaces to the Institutes, tell us about Calvin as exegete and theologian.21 He considered the Institutes and his commentaries as complementary, ‘by design intertwined and interdependent’.22

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The Institutes contains the sum of doctrine suitably arranged from all of scripture. The commentaries contain exegesis of scripture according to the order of the biblical text. If the two are read together, the commentaries can omit detailed doctrinal material, and the Institutes can omit detailed exposition of biblical texts.23 So, the Institutes arises out of his exegesis of scripture, and is subservient to and dependent on his interpretation of the Bible.24 The Institutes provides a summary of doctrine as a structural guide to the whole of scripture, so that people are able to understand specific teachings of the Bible properly.25 Calvin began his commentaries with the Pauline epistles, and he deliberately chose to begin with the epistle to the Romans. The reason Calvin gives for this is that the content of Romans presents the heart of the message of the whole of scripture, so in grasping its message, one is prepared to read all of scripture.26 This central message is that of the gospel, which Calvin summarizes as: ‘Man’s only righteousness is the mercy of God in Christ, when it is offered by the Gospel and received by faith’.27 The Institutes presents the message of the gospel in an ordered manner, keeping readers from wandering off into side issues, or even heresy. The gospel is also what unifies the Bible, what the Spirit inspired the authors to write, and what the Spirit directs us to understand and apply.28 The plot is always the same: ‘the ways of a just and gracious God among sinners’.29 Drawing on Calvin’s comments in his prefaces, and statements elsewhere in his writings, we can summarize the hermeneutical principles that guided his exposition of scripture as follows.30 First, in the Bible, God employs human speech that is accommodated to our finite humanity and historical situation, so that we might truly know him and his ways. ‘God accommodates himself to our limited capacity (ad modulum nostrum attemperat) every declaration which he makes of himself ’.31 Second, scripture bears the authority of its author, the living God. It is the Word of God, where God is known ‘as the Author and Ruler of all that is made, but also in the person of the Mediator as the Redeemer’.32 Third, in giving an exposition of scripture, one must recognize the two authors of scripture, the divine and the human. One must attend to the apostle’s reasons for instructing his recipients according to their needs and contexts. But ultimately, one must focus on the teaching of the Spirit, who, while speaking through the human author,33 transcends those historical circumstances to speak to the church throughout this age.34 Fourth, there is an essential unity to scripture, one covenant that unites the Old and New Testaments. Both administrations of the unified people of God hold to the same hope of eternal life, to grace as the means of salvation and to Jesus Christ as the mediator of salvation.35 Fifth, given that the unity of the Bible is based on God as the ultimate author, one must expound scripture by taking account of the context of the



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biblical book as a whole, the entire Pauline corpus and the whole of scripture. Context also includes the understanding that the interpretative community gains as the text is applied to its own situation.36 Sixth, the exposition of scripture should serve the cause of the gospel and good of the church.37 Biblical interpretation should not simply serve the learned or those preparing for church ministry, but also the hearts and minds of all the people of God. Seventh, systematic theology, formulated from the whole of scripture, is the framework for the exegesis of specific biblical texts, while scripture, in turn, also serves to support or modify one’s theological conclusions. The two are necessarily connected.

Christian freedom in the Institutes Calvin devotes a whole chapter of the Institutes to the doctrine of Christian freedom. He also discusses this doctrine in his commentary on 1 Tim. 4.1-5, and in three sermons that he preached on this passage. An examination of these three sermons provides an illustration of the interaction between his theology and his commentaries, and specifically, of how his hermeneutical principles guide his exposition of scripture. Since the Institutes is meant to function as a summary of doctrine to guide in the study of the Bible, we first examine the Institutes as providing the framework for Calvin’s view of freedom.38 Calvin begins the chapter on Christian freedom in the Institutes by indicating that a knowledge of Christian freedom, as an aspect of justification, is ‘a thing of prime necessity’ in that it provides peace of conscience for believers concerning what God commands or permits. He states that ‘unless this freedom be comprehended, neither Christ nor the gospel, nor inner peace of soul, can be rightly known’.39 In order to establish its wide-ranging significance, Calvin presents three parts to Christian freedom. The first part is freedom from the demand that the full requirements of the law be met for us to be justified before God. Christians are freed from these requirements, and from the curse of the law on those who fail to fulfill the law’s demands (Gal. 4.5) because Christ took the curse of the cross on himself, and became their righteousness. Looking only to Christ abolishes any and all law-righteousness. This first freedom – the freedom of justification – is absolutely essential for believers to ‘rest with full assurance in Christ alone’ so that they might serve God with peace and joy.40 Thus, it is the foundational freedom of the Christian life. The second part of freedom depends on, and flows from the first freedom. Released from meeting the righteous demands of the law because of Christ, believers are now free to ‘willingly obey God’s will’.41 With their new status

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as children of God, they are freed to obey him with the confidence that he does not judge their works by the perfect standards of the law. Rather, our incomplete and defective works ‘will be approved by our most merciful Father, however small, rude and imperfect these may be’. God accepts them because he measures them, not by the rules of law, but rather by the ‘law of grace’.42 This spurs us on to ever-greater obedience.43 The third part of Christian freedom has to do with those ‘outward things that are of themselves “indifferent” [adiaphora]’. That is, these things are, in and of themselves, morally neutral, such that there is no obligation from God either to make use of them or to abstain from them. Believers have the freedom of conscience to freely do either.44 Calvin is convinced that this third part of Christian freedom is not a trivial matter, but is vital for believers to find peace and freedom in their use of the things of this life. Without this assurance, believers will entertain all sorts of doubts about their enjoyment of things, such as the food they eat and drink, the clothes they wear, the beautiful and precious materials of creation or the humorous and delightful experiences of life. These doubts can so plague believers that there is hardly anything in which their consciences allow them to participate with any degree of freedom. The solution to these doubts is the affirmation of the biblical teaching of the freedom to enjoy the gifts of God that he liberally bestows on them. This banishes any scruple of conscience and trouble of mind so that they may have confidence and peace with God.45 Calvin provides four qualifications for the exercise of Christian freedom in this third sense. First, it can never be used as a justification for unrestrained indulgence in the pleasures of this world. Such rationalization for indulgence flows from the lustful desires of the sinful nature.46 Secondly, believers must exercise restraint in the practice of Christian freedom when it creates problems for weaker believers. If the exercise of their freedom causes offence to the consciences of the weaker believers who are not yet persuaded in their consciences that certain ‘indifferent’ things are free to be enjoyed, with the result that they sin against their consciences, they have been led into sin by the exercise of freedom by stronger believers. Hence, the stronger have been a cause of sin to the weaker, not fulfilling the call of love, which enjoins them to do what builds up their brothers and sisters.47 Thirdly, when it comes to the civil government, Christians are called to be subject to the laws of the state. Even though these civil laws may not be binding on believers’ consciences, they still must submit to them, since God has granted civil rulers the authority to maintain the common good through the legislation and enforcement of these laws.48 Fourth, Calvin also provides a qualification for the restraint of Christian freedom with respect to church laws in book 4, Ch. 10, ‘The [Church’s] Power of Making Laws’, and Ch. 11,



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‘The Jurisdiction of the Church’.49 While the laws and traditions of the church, which govern the spiritual kingdom, are binding on the Christian conscience only if they are governed by ‘the holy Word of the gospel’,50 not every law requires a scriptural foundation. Many laws in the spiritual kingdom, as in the political kingdom, serve to provide good and decent order in the church as a social community.51

Hermeneutical themes evident in Calvin’s exposition of 1 Tim. 4.1-5 These general remarks on Christian freedom – the three parts of freedom, and the various qualifications of the exercise of freedom – provide the theological framework for Calvin’s exposition of 1 Tim. 4.1-5. This chapter now turns its attention to Calvin’s commentary and three sermons on this passage, indicating how the seven major hermeneutical themes previously mentioned are manifested there.

1. Divine accommodation This assumption is a general principle guiding Calvin’s exegesis, but it is not directly addressed in his commentary or three sermons on this passage.

2. The divine authority of scripture The theme of the divine authority of scripture permeates Calvin’s exposition. He begins by noting that the Spirit is speaking through these words to warn of false teachers who make holiness a matter of external observance.52 These false teachers who lead people astray through their hypocritical teachings on Christian freedom have turned away from the Word of God and have substituted their own inventions for what truly pleases God.53 By contrast, the true preachers of the gospel instruct people ‘to be wholly subject to our Lord Jesus Christ, and not to swerve therefrom the least iota’.54 Subjection to Christ means subjection to the Spirit. Calvin indicates the close connection between Christ and the Spirit in this matter. This is evident in the two offices of the Spirit. First, the Spirit was given to Christ so that he might give us the gifts of salvation, and second, through those gifts the Spirit keeps us in the way of salvation in Christ. Our responsibility is twofold: first, to search holy scripture to discern true doctrine and, secondly, to pray to Christ that he gives us the Spirit to enable us to discern good from evil. In this way, we will be able to resist the deceiving spirits.55

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When the text justifies Christian freedom in the doctrine of creation, Calvin maintains that scripture assures us that all ‘the goodness of the creatures’ comes from God’s hand, and that it is God’s will that we have ‘a good conscience’ in our use of them.56 In fact, believers are defined as ‘those who have a knowledge of sound teaching, for there is no faith except from God’s Word’.57

3. The twofold author: human and divine58 While Calvin’s comments on this text distinguish between Paul and the Spirit as the two authors, the message of each is essentially the same, since everything Paul says is ‘inspired by the Spirit’. One gains access to the Spirit’s teaching through the warnings that Paul gives to Timothy of a ‘fastapproaching’ danger of false teachers who will disturb the church in Ephesus. But Paul indicates an awareness that his own words are a ‘prophecy of the Holy Spirit that point’ beyond the immediate danger in Ephesus. Paul warns ‘all churches everywhere against false teachers’ who present their own views in place of God’s, ‘making godliness consist of outward exercises’ that pervert and profane true spiritual worship of God.59 Calvin states that Paul is also aware of the Spirit’s warning that this is a serious matter, for it is an ‘apostasy from the faith’, by the false prophets of Satan, who proclaim ‘devilish teachings’.60 Calvin states that Paul commends his prophecy to us by explicitly stating that ‘he said nothing except by the Spirit of prophecy’. For this reason, we must listen to Paul as the ‘instrument of Christ’. Paul’s awareness of the divine source of his words, as well as the prophetic character of his warnings, lead Calvin to refer to the Spirit and to Paul interchangeably as the authors of the text. Thus, while Calvin makes a distinction between Paul and the Spirit as the two authors, the fact that Paul is the instrument of the Spirit makes the content and motives of the message of each essentially the same.61

4. The essential unity of scripture in Jesus Christ Since Calvin considers the central message of the Bible as the gospel of salvation in Jesus Christ, all its parts should be read with the goal of finding Christ in them.62 This is evident in Calvin’s exposition of 1 Tim. 4.1-5 in several ways. First, Calvin draws a close connection between Christ and the Spirit. Christ received the Spirit to give his people the gifts of salvation and,



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through the exercise of these gifts, his people are kept by the Spirit in the way of salvation. Notably, Christ gives the Spirit to guide his people in searching the scripture to discern good from evil, and to distinguish between true and false doctrine.63 Second, in the Institutes, Calvin indicates the foundational role of justification in Christ – freedom from the curse and penalty of the law – for Christian freedom. Believers have assurance in Christ that they can serve God with peace and joy.64 This shapes Calvin’s exposition and defence of freedom in 1 Tim. 4.1-5. When the false prophets deny Christian freedom, they lead people away from the right way of salvation, they make godliness consist of outward activities and they pollute and overturn the purity of the faith.65 They ‘try to acquire righteousness for themselves by abstaining from those things which God has left free’, rather than in ‘that inner righteousness which the law requires’, which is only found in Christ.66 By contrast, the true preachers of the gospel instruct people ‘to be wholly subject to our Lord Jesus Christ, and not to swerve therefrom the least iota… For this is the perfection of all wisdom, to know the Son of God as he has been made manifest to us, as it is said, that all the treasures [of the gospel] are hidden in him’.67 Third, for Calvin the centrality of Christ is evident in believers’ union with him to restore to their use the goodness of God’s creation. The dominion over creation, granted in the beginning to Adam and his descendants, was lost to humans because of their sin and wickedness. The lordship that Adam lost ‘is fulfilled in the person of our Lord Jesus Christ, to wit, that God has given him the earth for a possession’.68 Believers regain their status as heirs of the world only through faith in Christ.69 ‘[B]y incorporating us into the Body of His Son, [God] makes us anew lords of the earth so that we may legitimately enjoy as our own all the wealth He supplies’.70 Thus, by faith, both we and the good gifts of God are sanctified, so that we may use them with free conscience.71

5. Context Calvin’s exposition of this text appeals to context in three ways: the historical context of the epistle, the larger scriptural context to guide God’s people in general and the context of the interpreting community in applying this teaching to its own situation. First, Calvin presents the historical context of 1 Timothy in his introductory comments on the theme of the letter [Argumentum], and in his expository comments on 1 Tim. 4.1-5. Paul warns Timothy concerning certain ‘headstrong men’ who were rising up against the authority of Timothy and

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Paul in the church in Ephesus. Paul exhorts Timothy to hold to the revealed doctrine of the gospel, and to prevent these self-seeking troublemakers from causing havoc in the church.72 Second, in his expository comments on this text in both his commentary and three sermons, Calvin appeals to the larger scriptural context to explain and apply the teachings and warnings of 1 Tim. 4.1-5 to the people of God in general. He notes a similar warning against false teachers in 2 Pet. 3.3, and he illustrates this with reference to a lying spirit in the mouths of false prophets who entice King Ahab into battle (1 Kgs 22.2123).73 True teachers speak by the Spirit of God those words that God gives them.74 Calvin appeals to other biblical texts to apply 1 Tim. 4.1-5 to the ‘spiritual worship of God’, for true doctrine supports true worship, and false doctrine introduces false worship. True worship of God is neither focused on external rites nor determined by human thoughts, but is worship in spirit and truth (Jn 4.24), according to the will of God (Hos. 6.6; Rom. 12.1; Col. 2.19).75 Calvin notes that those who give Christ his true honour speak by the Spirit of God (1 Cor. 12.3). Since the ministers of Satan also claim that they speak in the Spirit’s name, believers must ‘Try the spirits whether they are of God’ (1 Jn 4.1).76 Calvin appeals to additional biblical texts to indicate how faith in Christ assures believers of peace of conscience in their use of the things of creation. 1 Cor. 10.31 teaches that all creatures can be enjoyed to the glory of God.77 Paul explains in Rom. 14.23 the important role of faith, for it is the persuasion that God truly allows us to enjoy His gifts.78 Faith unites us with Christ, allowing us to participate in  all the benefits of his salvation, which includes, as Psalm 8 indicates, his dominion over all creation.79 The third appeal to context evident in Calvin’s exposition is the understanding that the interpreting community gains in applying the text to its own situation and life. He believes that the prophetic warnings in 1 Tim. 4.3 concerning those who prohibit marriage and certain foods was rightly applied by the post-apostolic church to early heretical sects, such as the Manichees and Montanists, since they banned these things.80 But this also applies to any who hold these views. Calvin states, ‘Thus we have good reason for holding today that the prophecy applies to the Papists, since they enjoin celibacy and abstention from foods more strictly than they do any of God’s commandments’.81 Calvin considers the Roman Church of his day to have substituted its own instructions for the clear teachings of the Word of God. In unlawfully binding human consciences, the Papists undermine the foundational freedom of justification, and the freedom to obey God as a loving Father.82 In discerning this application to the false Roman teachers of his day, Calvin believes that the church gains a deeper understanding of the meaning of this text.



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6. To serve the cause of the gospel and the edification of the church For Calvin, God’s fatherly care for his people is evident in the warnings that he gives them about those who would lead them astray by denying the faith.83 So, the pastors must care for the church by refuting these false teachers who ‘by introducing false worship, and ensnaring consciences with new laws, adulterate God’s true worship and corrupt the pure doctrine of the church’. Otherwise, the latter will lead the church astray from the right way of salvation.84 Positively, pastors and teachers build up the church by promoting the gospel of the grace of God in Christ in accordance with the Word of God, so that believers rest secure in their adoption as children of God.85 Their heavenly Father grants them settled and quiet consciences in the lawful use of the things of this world, without fear of becoming defiled.86 Through their participation in the lordship of Christ, believers become heirs of all the creatures that God has made. Guided by God’s word and sanctified by prayer, the church can enjoy the goodness of God’s creation with joy and peace and thanksgiving.87

7. Summary of doctrine as interpretative framework for scripture To expound the nature and application of Christian freedom in  1 Tim. 4.1-5, Calvin makes use of various doctrines: justification by faith, salvation accomplished in Christ, the goodness of creation, participation in the lordship of Christ and the trinitarian character of Christian freedom. Freedom is grounded in justification by faith. Only when believers remain focused on Christ and the treasures of salvation found in him, do they live with freedom as children of God, living in true godliness and worshipping ‘in spirit and in truth’. Creation is restored to them as a gift of God through their participation in the lordship of the glorified Christ. We also note the important role of the doctrine of the Trinity in Calvin’s exposition. The only person of the triune God explicitly mentioned in this text is the Spirit. There is a reference to creation, implying the work of God the Father.88 Even though Christ is not explicitly mentioned in the passage, Calvin makes numerous references to him in his commentary and sermons. The trinitarian shape of Calvin’s exposition is most clearly evident in his comments on v. 5. He appeals to all three persons of the Trinity in his comments on the sanctification of the good things of creation by the Word of God and prayer. Prayer involves our acknowledging and calling on God as our Father who desires to show his fatherly goodness to us.89 He sanctifies the good gifts of creation by the Spirit, which we receive when, by faith, we are incorporated

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into Christ and participate in his lordship.90 This trinitarian framework for Christian freedom enables believers to understand that the Christian life has, as its ultimate goal, their participation in the purposes of the Father, Son and Spirit.91 They are engaged in God’s redemptive activity, namely, the sanctification of creation.

Conclusion Let me conclude by making some brief observations on how Calvin’s theological interpretation of scripture, shaped by his hermeneutical principles, can provide some helpful guidelines for the emerging effort to develop a theological interpretation of scripture today.92 First, we see that Calvin’s interpretation of 1 Tim. 4.1-5 has a great depth and breadth to it. Expounding the text through the doctrine of justification by faith highlights the significance of Christian freedom in the life of believers. It is a foundational matter of the Christian life, relating both to one’s assurance of salvation, and to the ability to serve God in obedience. It is vital for the peace of conscience of believers. It is connected to the doctrine of creation and the cultural mandate to exercise lordship over creation that God originally gave to humans. This relates to the heavenly session of Christ, where he assumes lordship over all creation. It is an important matter in the church’s teaching on godly living and proper worship of God. Second, Calvin’s hermeneutic directs us to note the essential unity in all the various facets of this teaching. This is grounded in his assumption of the divine authority of scripture. The one Spirit speaks through the various epistles of Paul, and through all the biblical authors, with one voice on this matter. The unity of the message is also evident in the central doctrine of scripture, namely, the gospel of God’s grace accomplished in Jesus Christ. Calvin relates Christ’s redemptive work to all the significant aspects of Christian freedom. There is unity in the role of the Spirit in applying redemption, in the inspiration of scripture, in the gift of discernment into scripture for believers and in leading the Church into the proper application of scripture. This is consistent with salvation in Christ as the basis for the freedom of justification and sanctification, with the recovery of believers’ dominion over creation through participation in Christ’s lordship, and with the wisdom gained by the church in applying the warnings of false teachers to its own specific context. Third, Calvin’s theological framework leads us to see how some matters of Christian practice have broader ramifications for the faith. Those who deny some matters of freedom have rejected the authority of the Word of God, and have substituted their own inventions. These teachings indicate,



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not merely a disagreement over trivial matters, but a subversion of the gospel of Christ, and of the assurance grounded in justification by faith. Such teachings diminish the impact of Christ’s redemption by failing to see that its goal is the sanctification of all creation. By focusing on external rites, the true worship of God is undermined. This sabotages peace of conscience and creates havoc in the church. What is ultimately at stake here is the redemptive work of Christ and the salvation of believers. Finally, Calvin’s trinitarian exposition accentuates the vital role of all three persons of the triune God in redemption and its fruits.93 This reinforces the relevance of the various theological themes for Christian liberty in the unified activity of the triune God. The Father provides good gifts to us in creation and in the salvation accomplished by his Son. The Son is the Redeemer who restores us to the status of children of God and sanctifies creation for our use. The Spirit applies to us the salvation of Christ and leads us into an understanding of true freedom. Calvin’s use of the Trinity also heightens the evil of rejecting God’s good gifts and the positive results of receiving them. When we reject these gifts, we resist the leading of the Spirit, we reject the good gifts of the Father in creation and we fail to participate in the redemptive lordship of Christ. Alternatively, when we properly understand and embrace these good creational gifts, we submit to the Spirit’s guidance and accept the benefits that he has for us, we embrace the world as the Father’s good creational domain for our welfare and we acknowledge our need of redemption through union with Christ by faith in order to reclaim our calling as lords of creation. This trinitarian structure enables us to see that the exercise of Christian freedom entails our joining in the redemptive purposes of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit to restore God’s glorious dominion over all creation.

Notes   1. T. H. L. Parker, ‘Calvin the biblical expositor’, in John Calvin: A Collection of Distinguished Essays, ed. G. E. Duffield (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1966), 176.   2. The four editions after 1536 were published in  1539/41, 1543/45, 1550/60 and 1559/60, these dates indicating first, the Latin text, and then, the French translation.   3. François Wendel, Calvin: Origins and Development of His Religious Thought, trans. Philip Mairet (Durham, NC: The Labyrinth Press, 1987), 122.   4. John Calvin, Calvin: Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles, The Library of Christian Classics, vols XX & XXI (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster, 1960), 4.   5. Ibid., 7.   6. T. H. L. Parker, Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1971). Fifteen years later, Parker published the book, Calvin’s Old Testament Commentaries (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986).

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  7. R. Ward Holder notes the importance of Parker’s 1971 book in sparking this interest in Calvin as biblical expositor (John Calvin and the Grounding of Interpretation: Calvin’s First Commentaries, Studies in the History of Christian Traditions, ed. Robert J. Bast [Leiden: Brill, 2006], 10).   8. This movement is motivated, in part, by a dissatisfaction with the ‘scientific’ (that is, autonomous and neutral) method of critical biblical scholarship dominant for the past two centuries, which has separated biblical theology from dogmatic theology, and which has been pre-occupied with matters concerning the time, place and author(s) of texts, and their historical references.   9. For a good introduction to the contemporary range of issues and methods for reading the Bible theologically, see Daniel J. Treier, Introducing Theological Interpretation of Scripture: Recovering a Christian Practice (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008). 10. Calvin published his commentary on 1 & 2 Timothy in 1548. He dealt with the topic of Christian freedom in the first edition of his Institutes in 1536. This section grew as the Institutes increased in size through subsequent editions. See Jean-Daniel Benoît, ‘The history and development of the Institutio: how Calvin worked’, trans. G. E. Duffield, in John Calvin: A Collection of Distinguished Essays, ed. G. E. Duffield (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1966), 103–10. 11. I will also make some comments on Calvin’s trinitarian exegesis of this passage. While Calvin scholars have noted the importance of the doctrine of the Trinity in Calvin’s theology, they have done less to indicate how it functions in his exegesis of scripture. In his commentary on 1 Tim. 4.1-5, as well as his three sermons on the text, Calvin refers to all three persons of the Trinity to explain the basis, importance and nature of this doctrine for Christian freedom. 12. Calvin worked on both in Strasbourg, during his exile from Geneva, from 1538 to 1541. 13. John T. McNeill notes that Calvin’s words to the reader of the 1539 Institutes were written only two months prior to his words of dedication for the commentary (Inst. 5 6). 14. Calvin dedicates this work to Simon Grynaeus. 15. Calvin connects the latter term (perspicuitas) to facilitas, thereby relating the ready understandability of a text to its practical relevance. See Parker, New Testament, 51, 54. 16. Calvin considered both inaccessible for ‘humbler minds’, and too difficult for ‘simple-minded readers’ (John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentary on Romans, trans. Ross MacKenzie, eds David W. Torrance and Thomas F. Torrance [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1973], 2–3). 17. Parker, Calvin, 73. 18. Inst. 4–5. 19. Ibid., 6–7. 20. Ibid., 8. 21. This point, and subsequent comments, are taken, in part, from John L. Thompson, ‘Calvin as a biblical interpreter’, in The Cambridge Companion to John Calvin, ed. Donald K. McKim (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 61–2. 22. Ibid., 62. 23. Richard Muller insists that we should not view Calvin’s theology as having developed, in the modern sense, from an academic study of doctrine. Rather, it results from his exegetical work as it met the catechetical needs of the church and informed



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the doctrinal debates in which he was engaged. (Richard A. Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin: Studies in the Foundation of a Theological Tradition, Oxford Studies in Historical Theology, ed. David C. Steinmetz [New York: Oxford University Press, 2000], 113–14). 24. Noted by David C. Steinmetz, Calvin in Conflict (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 19. Concerning Calvin’s theological and hermeneutical method, Thomas F. Torrance states: ‘The fundamental purpose of theology is to serve the interpretation of Holy Scripture’ (The Hermeneutics of Calvin [Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press, 1988], 70). 25. Steinmetz, Calvin, 291. 26. Calvin states: ‘if we have gained a true understanding of this Epistle, we have an open door to all the most profound treasures of Scripture’ (Romans 5). Noted by R. Ward Holder, ‘Calvin as commentator on the Pauline epistles’, in Calvin and the Bible, ed. Donald K. McKim (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 254. 27. Calvin, Romans 5. 28. Ibid., 71. 29. John L. Thompson, ‘Calvin’s exegetical legacy: his reception and transmission of text and tradition’, in The Legacy of John Calvin, Calvin Studies Society Papers, 1999 (Grand Rapids, MI: Calvin Studies Society, 2000), 44. 30. Some of these can be found in his comments in the dedication to his Romans commentary. Thompson discusses these in ‘Calvin as a biblical interpreter’, 61–2. A more thorough study of Calvin’s hermeneutics based on his Pauline commentaries is found in R. Ward Holder’s book, Calvin and the Grounding of Interpretation, Chapter 2, ‘Hermeneutical principles’. I draw heavily on Holder’s work, while also referring to others. 31. Comm. Rom. 1.19. Calvin frequently uses the analogy of a mother communicating with a child in ‘baby-talk’, using the concepts and language that a child can understand. See Inst. 1 13.1. 32. Inst. 1 6.1. 33. The biblical authors functioned as ‘organs of the Holy Spirit [who] uttered only that which they had been commissioned from heaven to declare’ (Comm. 2 Tim. 3.16). 34. Comm. 2 Per. 1.20 ‘[In Scripture] it is God who speaks with us and not mortal men’. 35. Inst. 2 6.4. 36. Holder notes that this is possibly Calvin’s ‘most daring hermeneutical circle’ (Calvin and the Grounding of Interpretation, 80). 37. Calvin indicates that his sole reason for writing his commentary on Romans is ‘for the common good of the church’ (Romans 3). He criticizes the commentaries of his contemporaries precisely because they are not accessible or useful for busy believers with ‘less intelligence’. 38. Two good expositions of Calvin’s doctrine of Christian freedom, which follow the outline in the Institutes are: I. John Hesselink, Calvin’s Concept of the Law (Allis on Park, PA: Pickwick Publications, 1992), 257–62; and Randall C. Zachman, The Assurance of Faith: Conscience in the Theology of Martin Luther and John Calvin (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993), 224–43. A brief account of the third part of Christian freedom in Calvin’s writings is found in Ronald S. Wallace, Calvin’s Doctrine of the Christian Life (Tyler, TX: Geneva Divinity School Press, 1982), 308–12. 39. Inst. 3 19.1.

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Inst. 3 19.2-3. Inst. 3 19.4. Inst. 3 19.5-6. Zachman notes that in Calvin’s view, ‘we only reverence God with the obedience of a good conscience when we are assured that God is our merciful Father who will be pleased by our obedience on the basis of our justification by faith alone’ (Assurance of Faith, 226). 44. Inst. 3 19.7. 45. Inst. 3 19.7-9. 46. Inst. 3 19.9. 47. Inst. 3 19.10-13, 16. 48. To promote the common peace and good order of society, believers should obey the civil authorities, except where they enact laws contrary to the faith or binding on the conscience (Inst. 3 19.14-16). See also Zachman, Assurance of Faith, 231–2. 49. Calvin presents arguments in Chapters 10 and 11 to demonstrate that the teachings of the Roman Church and the claims of the papacy are not based on scripture, and therefore not binding on the consciences of believers. 50. Inst. 4 10.1. 51. Yet, Calvin insists that, when it comes to the message of the gospel, the guidance for Christian obedience and the worship of God, the consciences of believers must only submit to those teachings of the church that conform to the Word of God (Inst. 4 10.5-8). 52. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. 53. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1; Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 357b-58a. 54. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 335a. 55. Ibid., 344b. 56. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.3-4; Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 363b. 57. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.3. 58. Holder notes that, following Calvin, the order of teaching demands consideration of the authorship of the Holy Spirit first (Calvin and the Grounding of Interpretation, 59). 59. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. To prepare Timothy and the future church for what is to come, the Spirit through Paul presents two specific features of this false teaching: the prohibition of marriage and of certain foods (Comm. 1 Tim. 4.3). 60. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.3. 61. This is not, of course, always the case for Calvin’s perspective on the twofold author. For examples of where Calvin distinguishes between the two, see Comm. 1 Pet. 1.10-11 and Comm. 1 Cor. 1.17. 62. Comm. Jn 5.39; ‘when it [the whole of Scripture] is not taken as referring to Christ, its one aim and centre (ad unicum scopum), it is distorted and perverted’ (Comm. 2 Cor. 3.16). 63. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 335a. 64. Inst. 3 19.1-3. 65. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. 66. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.3. 67. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 335a. 68. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 365a. See also Calvin’s commentary on Psalm 8, especially vv. 5-9. 69. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.4.



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70. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.5. ‘For we must acknowledge God as our Father before we can be His heirs, and Christ as our Head before the things that are His can become ours’ (Ibid.). 71. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 364b, 365b. 72. ‘Theme of Paul’s First Epistle to Timothy’, in Comm. 1 Tim. 184–5; Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. 73. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. 74. Ibid.; Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 342a. 75. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. These references serve to support Calvin’s contention that the worship in view is not merely the personal worship of believers, but the corporate worship of the church (Comm. 1 Tim. 4.2; Serm. I Tim. 4, 349a-349b; 359b-360a). 76. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. 77. ‘Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God’ (1 Cor. 10.31, NIV). 78. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 363a-b. 79. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 364b-365b. See also Calvin’s commentary on Psalm 8, especially vv. 5-9. 80. St. John Chrysostom, who was one of Calvin’s favourite biblical expositors, applies Paul’s warnings in 1 Tim. 4.1-3 to the Manichaeans, Encratites and Montanists (Homily 12 on 1 Tim. 4.1-3, in ‘The homilies of St. John of Chrysostom, on the epistles of St. Paul the Apostle to Timothy, Titus and Philemon’, Oxford translation edited, with additional notes, by Rev Philip Schaff, in A Select Library of the Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers of the Christian Church, series 1, vol. 13 [New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1914], 444). 81. Calvin rejects their claim that this does not apply to them since they only compel abstention from meat on certain days and only require monks, priests and nuns to take a vow of celibacy. Calvin retorts that the text does not speak of forbidding marriage or foods universally. ‘To forbid things that are free, whether universally or in special cases, is always a devilish tyranny’ (Comm. 1 Tim. 4.3. See also Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 351a-355a). 82. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.3. 83. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 336b. 84. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.1. 85. Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 365b. 86. Ibid., 364a-364b. 87. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.5. 88. While Calvin in the Institutes recognizes that the power of creating was common to all three persons of the Trinity (1 13.24), he attributes the work of creation primarily to the Father, following the language of scripture and the Apostles’ Creed (1 13.17; cf. Comm. Jn 1.3). 89. Calvin mentions the Father’s goodness to us seven times in Serm. 1 Tim. 4, 366a374b. 90. Comm. 1 Tim. 4.5. 91. James B. Krohn maintains that Calvin’s theology provides ‘a theological vision ... with which to understand the individual’s place within the unfolding redemtive activity of the Triune God in history’ (‘The triune God who speaks: Calvin’s theological hermeneutics’, Koers 66 (2001): 58. 92. I realize that modern biblical scholars have concerns and questions that Calvin’s exposition does not address, such as authorship of epistle, date of writing, historical setting, etc., but that is not my interest here.

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93. Colin Gunton contends that almost everywhere, Calvin’s thought is structured by the doctrine of the Trinity (Father, Son and Spirit: Essays Toward a Fully Trinitarian Theology [London: T&T Clark, 2003], 7). Paul Helm also states that Calvin’s trinitarianism ‘plays a fundamental role in his theology’ (John Calvin’s Ideas [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004], 36). See also Alexandre Ganoczy, ‘Observations on Calvin’s trinitarian doctrine of grace’, trans. Keith Crim, in Probing the Reformed Tradition: Historical Studies in Honor of Edward A. Dowey, Jr., eds Elsie Ann McKee and Brian G. Armstrong (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1989), 96; J. I. Packer, ‘Calvin the theologian’, in John Calvin: A Collection of Distinguished Essays, ed. G. E. Duffield (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1966), 169.

Chapter 4

Contemplating the Living Image of God in Creation Randall C. Zachman John Calvin was passionately and increasingly interested in the self-disclosure of God in the universe that God created, orders and sustains. He insisted that Christians occupy themselves daily, or at least once a week, with the contemplation of the works of God in the universe and in the natural world around them. The goal of such contemplation was to be ravished with admiration by the beauty, glory and majesty of creation, and to return to God the praise and thanks that are due in light of the glory of God manifested throughout the world. ‘The true and proper view to take of the works of God, as I have observed elsewhere, is that which ends in wonder’.1 However, Calvin’s contemplation of the natural world has been eclipsed in the past century by theologians who are nervous about any self-revelation of God outside of Jesus Christ, fearing that this would lead to a form of ‘natural theology’ that would undermine God’s self-disclosure in Christ. This concern has led interpreters of Calvin to focus on the way the selfmanifestation of God in the universe has predominantly a negative effect, namely, that of rendering unbelievers without excuse. The classic statement cited in support of this interpretation is found in the Institutes: ‘But although the Lord represents both himself and his everlasting Kingdom in the mirror of his works with very great clarity, such is our stupidity that we grow increasingly dull toward so manifest testimonies, and they flow away without profiting us’.2 Given the failure of the self-representation of God in the universe to lead us to the knowledge of God on its own, Calvin is often thought to direct his readers away from a consideration of the universe to attend solely to the self-revelation of God in Jesus Christ. Again, support for such a position may be found in the Institutes: ‘This magnificent theater of heaven and earth, crammed with innumerable miracles, Paul calls “the wisdom of God.” Contemplating it, we ought in wisdom to have known God. But because we have profited so little by it, he calls us to the faith of Christ, which, because it appears foolish, the unbelievers despise’.3 On this view of Calvin’s theology, only Adam and Eve before the fall could have profited

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from the self-revelation of God in the world. Given their fall into sin, the only way now to come to the true knowledge of God is in Jesus Christ. It is obviously true that Calvin claimed that the knowledge of God from creation was not sufficient, and had to be combined with the knowledge of God in Christ. Human blindness and ingratitude keep the image of God in the universe from directing us to the one true God manifested in that image. On the one hand, Calvin will say that we must turn to the Word of God in scripture in order to be led to the Creator. ‘Despite this, it is needful that another and better help be added to direct us aright to the very Creator of the universe. It was not in vain, then, that he added the light of his Word by which to become known’.4 On the other hand, Calvin will turn to 1 Cor. 1.21 to show that the self-manifestation of God in the universe profits no one who has not first heard the proclamation of Christ crucified. ‘It is vain for any to reason as philosophers on the workmanship of the world, except those who, having been first humbled by the preaching of the gospel, have learned to submit the whole of their intellectual wisdom (as Paul expresses it) to the foolishness of the cross (1 Cor. 1.21). Nothing shall we find, I say, above or below, which can raise us up to God, until Christ shall have instructed us in his own school’.5 Calvin will also claim that the goodness of God shines forth more brightly in the cross than in the whole of creation, because the cross represents the restoration of the creation that had been lost to sin. ‘For in the cross of Christ, as in a splendid theater, the incomparable goodness of God is set before the whole world. The glory of God shines, indeed, in all creatures on high and below, but never more brightly than in the cross, in which there is a wonderful change of things – the condemnation of all men was manifested, sin blotted out, salvation restored to men; in short, the whole world was renewed and all things restored to order’.6 However, Calvin insisted that the knowledge of God in Christ did not eliminate the need to know God in creation, but rather made such knowledge necessary for the godly, as it supports and confirms the knowledge of God in Christ. ‘Yet [faith in Christ] does not prevent us from applying our senses to the consideration of heaven and earth, that we may thence seek confirmation in the true knowledge of God’.7 The contemplation of God’s works in creation is therefore always distinct from faith in Christ, even as it is inseparably related to it. ‘Nevertheless, it is one thing to feel that God as our Maker supports us by his power, governs us by his providence, nourishes us by his goodness, and attends to us with all sorts of blessings – and another thing to embrace the grace of reconciliation offered to us in Christ’.8 The living image of God in the universe is, in fact, sufficient to render those who do not know God without excuse, but once the Word of God clarifies our vision of this image, the godly can and must contemplate this image of God in the universe on their own. ‘For by the Scripture as our guide and



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teacher, he not only makes those things plain which would otherwise escape our notice, but almost compels us to behold them; as if he had assisted our dull sight with spectacles’.9 In other words, the godly are given the eyes that they might rightly behold the works of God in the universe that would otherwise only render them without excuse. ‘The world is rightly called the mirror of divinity not because there is enough clarity for men to know God by looking at the world, but because He makes Himself clear to unbelievers in such a way that they are without excuse for their ignorance. On the other hand, believers to whom he has given eyes to see discern the sparks of his glory as it were shining out in every individual creature. The world was founded for this purpose, that it should be the theater of divine glory’.10 Calvin develops an increasingly rich set of visual metaphors to describe the universe as the object of contemplation by the godly. The universe may be described as a ‘mirror or representation of invisible things’ (Heb. 11.3, 184). ‘God is invisible in himself, but since his majesty shines forth in  all his works and in  all his creatures, men ought to have acknowledged him in those, for they clearly demonstrate their Creator. For this reason the Apostle, in his Epistle to the Hebrews, calls the world a mirror or representation of invisible things’ (Heb. 11.3).11 The world may also be described as the theatre of God’s glory, which, when we behold it, should lead us to the knowledge of the God who created it. ‘After the world had been created, man was placed in it as in a theater, that he, beholding above him and beneath the wonderful works of God, might reverently adore their Author’.12 The universe is the living image of God, in which God represents Godself to us. ‘For God – by other means invisible – … clothes himself, so to speak, with the image of the world, in which he would present himself for our contemplation’.13 The world is the clothing that the invisible God wears so that we might behold God therein. ‘In respect of his essence, God undoubtedly dwells in light that is inaccessible; but as he irradiates the whole world by his splendor, this is the garment in which he, who is hidden in himself, appears in a manner visible to us’.14 Because the invisible God appears to us in the fabric of God’s works, the world is also the school in which we should be taught to know the God who created us. ‘Therefore, as soon as the name of God sounds in our ears, or the thought of him occurs in our minds, let us also clothe him with this most beautiful ornament; finally, let the world become our school if we rightly desire to know God’.15 Finally, the universe is the speechless proclamation or the mute teaching that would instruct us in the true knowledge of God, who is the author of all things. ‘[David] introduces the heavens as witnesses and preachers of the glory of God, attributing to the dumb creature a quality which, strictly speaking, does not belong to it, in order the more severely to upbraid men for their ingratitude, if they should pass over so clear a testimony with unheeding ears’.16

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Calvin emphasizes in particular the beauty of the image of God in creation. ‘Therefore, as soon as the name of God sounds in our ears, or the thought of him occurs to our minds, let us also clothe him with his most beautiful ornament; finally, let the world become our school if we rightly desire to know God’.17 The source of such beauty is to be found in the powers or perfections of God that are manifested in the universe, such as goodness, wisdom, power and justice, and consequently the godly are to focus on these powers in their contemplation of the works of God. ‘This is, indeed, the proper business of the whole life, in which men should daily exercise themselves to consider the infinite goodness, justice, power, and wisdom of God, in this magnificent theater of heaven and earth’.18 The works of God are beautiful because they portray the powers of God as in a painting.19 The goal of contemplation is attained when we feel the force of the powers of God, and enjoy their benefits, so that we are ravished with admiration and wonder for God. ‘As soon as we acknowledge God to be the supreme Architect, who has erected the beauteous fabric of the universe, our minds must necessarily be ravished with wonder at his infinite goodness, wisdom, and power’.20 Calvin teaches that the godly are to occupy every moment of their lives contemplating the powers of God set forth in the beautiful image of the universe. ‘There is indeed no moment which should be allowed to pass in which we are not attentive to the consideration of the wisdom, power, goodness, and justice of God in his admirable creation and government of the world’.21 However, to ensure that we spend at least one day a week occupied in such contemplation, God set aside the seventh day as a day for such meditation.22 Calvin elaborates on this point in his Latin Catechism of 1545. ‘M: But what is the meaning of the Lord exhorting us by his own example to rest? C: When he finished the creation of the world in six days, he dedicated the seventh to the contemplation of his works. To incite us more strongly to this, he sets before us his own example. For nothing is more to be desired than that we be formed in his image. M: But our mediation of God’s works ought to be continuous. Is it sufficient that one day out of seven be devoted to it? C: It is right for us to be employed in it every day. But because of our weakness one special day is appointed’.23 Calvin insists that this aspect of the Sabbath observance is still in force even after the emergence of the gospel, and should therefore be observed by all members of the church. The godly are to contemplate the beauty of the universe in imitation of God, who contemplated the beauty of the world after it was created. ‘And certainly God took the seventh day for his own and hallowed it, when the creation of the world was finished, that he might keep his servants altogether free from every care, for the consideration of the beauty, excellence, and fitness of his works’.24



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Calvin dedicated much attention to the method that the godly should follow in their contemplation of the universe.25 According to Calvin, the proper way to begin our contemplation of the universe is to begin with the heavens, and descend from there to the sky, then to the earth, and finally to descend within ourselves, following the pattern he found in Psalm 19. ‘David, with a view of encouraging the faithful to contemplate the glory of God, sets before them in the first place, a mirror of it in the fabric of the heavens, and in the exquisite order of their workmanship which we behold’.26 God would have us begin our contemplation of the universe with the heavens, because the powers of God are more clearly portrayed in the heavens than on the earth. ‘There is certainly nothing so obscure or contemptible, in which some marks of the power and wisdom of God may not be seen; but as a more distinct image of him is engraved on the heavens, David has particularly selected them for contemplation, that their splendor might lead us to contemplate all parts of the world’.27 The contemplation of the heavens builds on the healing of our sight that begins with the spectacles of the Word, for it leads us from the clearest image of the powers of God so that we might see the same powers on earth, down to the smallest creatures.28 According to Calvin, the heavens provide the clearest image of the powers of God because they are also the closest to God of all creation. ‘For truly God there exercises his own power and wisdom much more clearly than on earth’.29 Our contemplation of the heavens, therefore, should not only train us to see the same powers on earth that we behold in the heavens, but should also elevate our minds to God, who is the author and governor of the heavens. ‘When we behold the heavens, we cannot but be elevated, by the contemplation of them, to him who is their Creator; and the beautiful arrangement and wonderful variety which distinguish the courses and stations of the heavenly bodies, together with the beauty and splendor which are manifest in them, cannot but furnish us with evident proof of his providence’.30 The elevating effect of the contemplation of heaven is one of the best ways to come to an awareness of the transcendence of God, which frees us from confining the powers and nature of God to our carnal conceptions of them. ‘The Scripture often teaches that God is in heaven; not that he is shut up in it, but in order that we may raise our minds above the world, and may not entertain any low, or carnal, or earthly conceptions of him; for the mere sight of heaven ought to carry us higher, and transport us into admiration’.31 Thus, the contemplation of heaven not only leads to the descent into contemplation of the world and ourselves, but it is also the last step of our ascent to God. ‘If we consider the planets, and next the stars, we shall be inspired a hundred times with admiration. Therefore when the Prophet speaks of the firmament, he raises our thoughts so that they may approach

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by degrees unto God’.32 For this reason, Calvin  always had the highest praises for the study of the heavens, even when practiced by the ungodly, and made it a close companion to the study of theology proper. ‘And, indeed, astrology may justly be called the alphabet of theology; for no one can with a right mind come to the contemplation of the celestial framework, without being enraptured with admiration at the display of God’s wisdom, as well as power and goodness’.33 Hence, it is not surprising that Calvin claims that Moses himself was educated in this art by the Egyptians, as was Daniel by the Babylonians.34 Calvin thinks that Jeremiah himself appeals to astronomy as providing the best method to free the Jews from carnal conceptions about God, as though God could be contained in anything on earth, ‘for all errors and all fancies will soon vanish, when we duly consider the power and wisdom of God, as manifested in the creation of the heavens and the earth, and in the order observable in the world’.35 For Calvin, the proper acknowledgement of the transcendence of God takes place not with the right conception of divine incomprehensibility, but rather with the experience of being ravished with admiration by the contemplation of the powers of God revealed in the heavens.36 Of all the powers of God, Calvin thought that the wisdom of God more clearly appeared in the heavens than on earth. ‘The wisdom of God is visible throughout the whole world, but especially in the heavens’.37 Calvin was especially impressed by the harmonious order manifested in heaven, despite the rapid motion of so many immense bodies: ‘we behold his matchless wisdom, in regulating, without one degree of aberration, the manifold, complex, winding course of the stars. To each of them he assigns its fixed and distinct office and in all the multitude there is no confusion’.38 Calvin directs our attention to the fact that all the stars hold to their appointed courses, despite their vast number and varying movements. ‘For it is not by chance that each of the stars has its place assigned to it, nor is it random that they advance uniformly with so great rapidity, and amidst numerous windings move straight forwards, so that they do not deviate a hairbreadth from the path which God has marked out for them’.39 Such harmony and constancy of motion is even more impressive when one adds in the movement of the planets and the sun and moon. ‘The heavens revolve daily, and, immense as is their fabric, and inconceivable the rapidity of their motions, we experience no concussion – no disturbance in the harmony of their motion. The sun, though varying its course every diurnal revolution, returns annually to the same point. The planets, in all their wanderings, maintain their respective positions’.40 The movement of the sun alone is a wonderful display of the wisdom of God, ‘for when the sun, in its daily course, completes so great and so immense a distance, they who are not amazed at such a miracle must be more than stupid’.41



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The same orderly motion of heavenly bodies, as well as their age, also discloses to us the incomprehensible power of God. ‘We have a signal proof of the glorious power of God in the fact that, notwithstanding the immensity of the machine of the heavens, the rapidity of their motion, and the conflicting revolutions which take place in them, the most perfect subordination and harmony are preserved; and that this fair and beautiful order has been uninterruptedly maintained for ages’.42 It is noteworthy that Calvin associates the power of God with the beauty of the heavens, revealing that power for him must always be seen in the context of the manifestation of all the powers of God. ‘The heavens are mentioned – a part for the whole – as the power of God is principally apparent in them, when we consider their beauty and adornment’.43 The sun and the moon, in particular, manifest to us the goodness of God, in that they not only provide us with light, but also make possible our cultivation of the earth as well as our ability to tell time by the seasons of the year, which makes civic life possible.44 Again, what manifests the goodness of God, as well as the power and wisdom of God, is the harmony of the arrangement of the heavens, so that it not only proceeds in a beautiful and orderly way, but also provides useful advantages for humanity. ‘In the meantime, let us admire this wonderful Artificer, who has so beautifully arranged all things above and beneath, that they may correspond to each other in the sweetest harmony’.45 From the contemplation of the heavens, Calvin then turns to the consideration of the atmosphere, including clouds, wind, thunder, lightning and rain. For Calvin, the powers of God that are so clearly manifested in the constancy and harmony of the heavens are more perceptibly set forth in the sudden changes and mutations that take place in earth’s atmosphere. ‘For were the appearance of the heavens and the earth always the same, God’s power and wisdom would not appear so wonderful; but when the heavens are covered by clouds, when the air is now tranquil, and then disturbed by winds, when storms suddenly arise, and then rains follow, God thus vividly sets forth his manifold wisdom and power’.46 Calvin thought that the dramatic changes produced by the weather were especially useful in compelling the ungodly to consider the power of God, which they otherwise ignored.47 The changes in the atmosphere reveal to us the presence of God, as God approaches us either with favour or with wrath. ‘When the sky is clear and unclouded, it seems as if it were the pleasant and benignant countenance of God beaming upon us, and causing us to rejoice; whereas, on the other hand, when the atmosphere is troubled, we feel a depression of the animal spirits which constrains us to look sad, as if we saw God coming against us with a threatening aspect. At the same time, we are taught that no change takes place either in the atmosphere or in the earth, but it is a witness to us of the presence of God’.48

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Calvin was aware that philosophers had set forth what they considered to be the causes of such meteorological phenomena as wind, clouds, thunder and rain. ‘Philosophers, it is true, are well acquainted with the intermediate or secondary causes, from which the thunder proceeds, namely, that when the cold and humid vapors obstruct the dry and hot exhalations in their course upwards, a collision takes place, and by this, together with the noise of the clouds rushing against each other, is produced the rumbling thunder-peal’.49 Calvin does not doubt the legitimacy of such accounts, as far as the mediate causes of such phenomena are concerned; but he does not want such accounts to blind his readers to the wonderful power and wisdom of God manifested in thunder and lightning. ‘Since then God thus mingles contrary things, and makes fire the origin and the cause of rain, is it not so miraculous that it is sufficient to move the very stones? How great then must be the stupidity of men, when they attend not to so conspicuous a work of God, in which they may see the glory of his wisdom as well as his power’.50 The same may be said about the origin of wind. Attention to the mediate causes producing wind should not blind us to the ultimate cause, which lies in the powers of God. ‘Winds arise from the earth, even because exhalations proceed from it; but exhalations, by whom are they created? Not by themselves: hence, it follows, that God is their sole author’.51 For Calvin, it is not the investigation of secondary causes per se that leads philosophers to divert our attention away from the ultimate cause: ‘those who pride themselves in their acuteness, avert their eye from God to find the cause of rain in the air and the elements’.52 Were it not for our ungrateful and corrupt hearts, we would see countless miracles not only in those phenomena that defy explanations by mediate causes, but also in those that can also be explained by mediate causality, such as the appearance of clouds over our heads. ‘For we see that vapors arise at a distance and immediately spread over our heads. Is it not wonderful? And were we not accustomed to such a thing, it could not but fill us with admiration’.53 Calvin wants us to be overwhelmed by the countless miracles that present themselves so vividly to our eyes, especially in those phenomena that are the most familiar to us: ‘for the more carefully we attend to the consideration of God’s works, we ourselves vanish into nothing; the miracles which present themselves on every side, before our eyes, overwhelm us’.54 From the atmosphere, Calvin descends to consider the face of the earth, beginning with the wisdom of God that is revealed in the stability of the arrangement between the mighty waters of rivers, lakes and oceans and the emergence of dry land, and including the wonderful variety that one sees on dry land itself. ‘He says that the world was set in order by God’s wisdom: for it is wonderful how the waters mingle with the earth, and yet retain their



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own habitation, and are restrained from covering the earth; in the earth also there is amazing variety; we see in one part mountains, in another small hills; there are meadows, forests, and fields for corn. Indeed, man’s industry contributes to this variety; but we see how God has fitted the earth for different purposes. Here then shines forth the wonderful wisdom of God’.55 The preservation of dry land is all the more miraculous given the fact that, for Calvin, the waves and floods of water are one of the clearest evidences for the power of God. ‘God manifests his power in the sound of the floods and in the tempestuous waves of the sea, in a way calculated to excite our reverential awe’.56 The stability of the dry land in the midst of the waters thus manifests the truth of God, which is also seen in the stability of the heavens. ‘Lord, ... even in the earth we see thy truth reflected as it were in a mirror; for although it is suspended in the midst of the sea, yet it continues to remain in the very same state’.57 The variety of life on the face of the earth, and the care of God for all creatures, manifests to us both the power, and especially the goodness, of God. This is true even in places where no human beings dwell, and thus where the good things set forth are not for human use or enjoyment. ‘Rivers run through great and desolate wildernesses, where the wild beasts enjoy some blessing of God; and no country is so barren as not to have trees growing here and there, on which birds make the air to resound with the melody of their singing’.58 Once we see the goodness of God manifested in the wilderness, we should be even more aware of the amazing variety of good things that God supplies in less remote and rugged places. ‘Since even those regions where all lies waste and uncultivated, furnish manifest tokens of the Divine goodness and power, with what admiration ought we to regard that most abundant supply of all good things, which is to be seen in cultivated and favorable regions?’59 Such variety and abundance alone would be enough to overwhelm us with astonishment, even without consideration of the good things that God freely provides to human beings: ‘were one to apply his mind to the meditation of God’s wisdom in the abundance of all fruits, in the wealth of the whole world, in the sea (which is included in the world), it could not, doubtless, be, but that he must be a thousand times filled with wonder and admiration’.60 Calvin is especially insistent that the godly attend to the tender care that God has for all non-human creation, as when Psalm 104 celebrates the way God cares for the trees, birds and deer, ‘to show that no part of the world is forgotten by Him, who is the best of fathers, and that no creature is excluded from his care’.61 God cares for creatures regardless of their service or benefit to humanity, for ‘they cease not to be as beautifyings of this world, to the end that men might behold the majesty of God in them’.62 The acknowledgement of the goodness of God towards all creatures on earth is necessary so that we might rightly be amazed by the care that the

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Creator of the universe has for human beings. Calvin uses Psalm 8 to highlight the dramatic condescension of God, to lower Godself from the care of the heavens and the earth to care for human beings, ‘for it is, indeed, a wonderful thing that the Creator of heaven, whose glory is so surpassing great as to ravish us with the highest admiration, condescends so far as graciously to take upon himself the care of the human race’.63 If the wisdom and power of God are most clearly manifested in the heavens and the earth, the goodness of God is especially revealed in the care that God manifests for human beings, ‘for this, of all the subjects which come under our contemplation, is the brightest mirror in which we can behold his glory’.64 The goodness of God is not only disclosed to our eyes by the abundance of good things that God presents to our view on earth, but is most particularly revealed to our hearts by our enjoyment of the good things that we behold. ‘It is no small honor that God for our sake has so magnificently adorned the world, in order that we may not only be spectators of this beautiful theater, but also enjoy the multiplied abundance and variety of good things which are presented to us in it’.65 The good things that we see and enjoy in our temporal life on earth encourage us ‘to praise him for the manifestation he has made of himself as a father to us in this frail and perishable life’.66 Calvin wants his readers to be particularly impressed by the free gratuity of all the good things that God so lavishly bestows on us, which God was in no need to do, and which we in no way deserve. ‘The prophet [in Psalm 115.16] extols the goodness of God, and his paternal love for the human race, in that, though he stood in need of nothing himself, he yet created the world, with all its fulness, for their use’.67 The account of creation in Genesis only reinforces the gratuity of the care of God for humanity, for ‘before he fashioned man, he prepared everything he foresaw would be useful and salutary for him’.68 The only thing that God wishes from us in return is the praise we render to God’s goodness by our heartfelt gratitude for every good thing we are given. ‘Our gratitude in yielding to God the praise which is due, is regarded by him as a singular recompense’.69 However, our experience of the goodness of God also overwhelms us with astonishment, leaving us unable to express the infinite goodness of God in words. ‘David, therefore, when reflecting on the incomprehensible goodness which God has been graciously pleased to bestow on the human race, and feeling all his thoughts and senses swallowed up, and overwhelmed by the contemplation, exclaims that it is a subject worthy of admiration, because it cannot be set forth in words’.70 Our enjoyment of the good things that God so lavishly bestows on us leads Calvin to direct us to descend within ourselves, so that we might feel the power of God’s life within us. We may certainly behold the power of God’s life in all forms of life that surround us, in the infinite variety of



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creatures with whom we live, and especially in the cycle of life and death in which we all participate. ‘When we see the world daily decaying, and daily renewed, the life-giving power of God is reflected therein as in a mirror’.71 Given our awareness of the fragility of all life, we ought to be all the more impressed by the manifestation of God’s life that we see in the preservation of all forms of life.72 However, we ought especially to feel the power of God’s life within us, especially in light of our awareness that our life does not come from ourselves. ‘Since then men live not of themselves, but obtain life as a favor from another, it follows that God dwells in them’.73 For this reason, even the blind, who cannot contemplate the works of God with their eyes, can nonetheless feel God living within them, and thus ‘they could by feeling find out God’.74 The power of God’s life within us was known by the ungodly, as Paul’s quotation of Aratus shows, and as the writings of Plato demonstrate. ‘Nor do I doubt, that it was the will of God, by means of that heathen writer, to awaken all men to the knowledge, that they derive their life from another source than from themselves’.75 Our awareness of the life of God within us is also the supreme proof that there is but one God, for ‘we know by experience that there is one true God – how? Because we exist. We exist not of ourselves, but in and through another. ... It follows that human life is a clear proof of one supreme God’.76 Our awareness of the life of God within us is also the clearest way to come to know the distinction between God and all other creatures.77 Our awareness of the power of God’s life within us should lead us to the simultaneous awareness that many of God’s powers are portrayed both within us and towards us in the universe. The goal of our contemplation of the powers of God in creation is achieved when we descend into ourselves to see and feel the powers of God within us. ‘Now those powers appear most clearly in his works. Yet we comprehend their chief purpose, and the reason why we should ponder them, only when we descend into ourselves and contemplate by what means the Lord shows in us his life, wisdom, and power; and exercises on our behalf his righteousness, goodness, and mercy’.78 The presence of the powers of God within us leads Calvin to endorse Aristotle’s statement that humanity is a microcosm, as the same powers are seen in us as are portrayed in the works of God in the cosmos.79 Once again, this means that there is ultimately no need to survey the vast expanses of heaven and earth to discover the self-manifestation of God in God’s powers, for the powers of God can be felt within us even by the blind. ‘For he so influences every single one of us by his power within, that our stupidity is like a monster, because while feeling him we do not feel him’.80 Once we descend within ourselves to feel the powers of God within us, our awareness of the powers of God ought to be such that it inevitably leads to the experience that they completely transcend our ability to comprehend

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them. The same powers of God that reveal God to us in a way suited to our finite capacities simultaneously reveal the infinite nature of God, due to the incomprehensibility of the powers themselves. Hence, when the psalmist wishes to prove the greatness of God, ‘He does not speak of the hidden and mysterious essence which fills heaven and earth, but of the manifestations of his power, wisdom, goodness, and righteousness, which are clearly exhibited, although they are too vast for our limited intelligence to understand’.81 Thus, the living image of God, which is clear enough for infants and children to contemplate, reveals that the powers of God set forth in that image vastly transcend all human understanding, and leave us with the experience of being ravished with astonishment, unable to speak. ‘The true and proper view to take of the works of God, as I have observed elsewhere, is that which ends in wonder’.82 Such admiration leads both to praise and thanksgiving, which Calvin contrasts with the kind of knowledge ‘which philosophers presumptuously pretend to, as if they could solve every mystery of God’.83 However, the experience of the incomprehensibility of the powers of God should not take away from the very real knowledge of the powers of God that the faithful acquire from the works of God. ‘But incomprehensible as is the immensity of his wisdom, equity, justice, power, and mercy of God in his works, the faithful nevertheless acquire as much knowledge of these as qualifies them for the manifesting of God’s glory’.84 The powers of God are simultaneously revealed and hidden in God’s works in creation, and the goal of all contemplation of God’s works ends with this recognition. ‘And yet, the utmost point to which we can ever attain is, to contemplate with admiration and reverence the hidden wisdom and power of God, which, while they shine forth in his works, yet far surpass the limited power of our understanding’.85 There are several things that the church of today might learn from Calvin in terms of our relationship to creation. The first is that our coming to faith in Christ crucified and risen does not take us away from the contemplation of the heavens and the earth, but rather clarifies our vision so that we might come to see the invisible God who manifests himself in so magnificent and beautiful an image. The second is that we should not see our relationship to the world in terms of its utility in meeting human needs and desires, but should first of all contemplate it as the theatre of God’s glory, in acknowledgement that God cares for all that God has made, from the most distant stars to the smallest of organisms. God’s tender care for all creation should be mirrored by us as part of what it means to be created in the image of God, reinforced by our contemplation of the works of God on the Sabbath. Third, Calvin did not confine our knowledge of the natural world to the descriptions of the world in scripture, but rather endorsed and encouraged the learned study of the heavens and the earth, and the attempt to understand



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the world on the basis of secondary causality, for it is precisely what we can explain in this way that should most astonish and amaze us. Since God is continually at work both within and around us, all that we see and all that we feel are works of God that reveal the wisdom, power and goodness of God to us. Finally, our own finitude and death should make us vividly aware that the life we have comes from our participation in the life of God, and should make us grateful for every second of life that we have, no matter how brief it might seem.

Notes   1. Comm. Ps. 139.13, Ioannis Calvini opera quae supersunt omnia, edited by Wilhelm Baum, Edward Cunitz and Eduard Reuss (Brunswick: A. Schwetschke and Son [M. Bruhn], 1863–1900), Vol. 32, 381B; henceforth CO 32:381B; The Commentaries of John Calvin on the Old Testament. 30 vols (Edinburgh: Calvin Translation Society, 1843–1848), Vol. 12, 214; henceforth CTS 12:214.   2. Inst. 1 5.11, Ioannis Calvini opera selecta, edited by Peter Barth, Wilhelm Niesel and Dora Scheuner (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1926–1952), Vol. III, 55, lines 3–6; henceforth OS III.55.3–6; Calvin: Institutes of the Christian Religion, edited by John T. McNeill and translated by Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1960), 63; henceforth LCC 63.   3. Inst. 2 6.1, OS III.320.29–33; LCC 341.   4. Inst. 1 6.1, OS III.60.17–19; (1:69–70).   5. Comm. Genesis Argumentum, CO 23:9–10; CTS 1:63.   6. Comm. Jn 13.31, OE 11/2.130.16–22; CNTC 5:68.   7. Comm. Genesis Argumentum, CO 23:11–12A; CTS 1:64.   8. Inst. 1 2.1, OS III.34.17–21l; LCC 40.   9. Comm. Genesis Argumentum, CO 23:9–10B; CTS 1:62. 10. Comm. Heb. 11.3, 184; Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries, edited by David W. Torrance and Thomas F. Torrance (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1959–1972), Vol. 12, 160; henceforth CNTC 12:160. 11. Comm. Rom. 1.20, Ioannis Calvini Commentarius in Epistolam Pauli ad Romanos, edited by T. H. L. Parker (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1981), 29, lines 33–40; CNTC 8:31. 12. Comm. Genesis Argumentum, CO 23:11–12B; CTS 1:64. 13. Comm. Genesis Argumentum, CO 23:7–8C; CTS 1:60. 14. Comm. Ps. 104.1, CO 32:85A; CTS 11:145. 15. Comm. Genesis Argumentum, CO 23:7–8C; CTS 1:60. 16. Comm. Ps. 19.1, CO 31:194–5; CTS 8:309. 17. Comm. Genesis Argumentum, CO 23:7–8C; CTS 1:60. 18. Comm. Gen. 2.3, CO 23:33A; CTS 1:105–6. 19. Inst. 1 5.10, OS III.54; LCC 63. 20. Comm. Ps. 19.1, CO 31:195B; CTS 8:309. 21. Comm. Exod. 20.8, CO 24:578–9; CTS 4:436–7. 22. Comm. Gen. 2.3, CO 23:33A; CTS 1:105–6. 23. Catechismus Ecclesiae Genevensis, OS II.103.13–22; Calvin: Theological Treatises, translated by J. K. S. Reid (Philadelphia, PA: Westminster Press, 1954), 112.

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24. Comm. Exod. 20.8, CO 24:578–9; CTS 4:436–7. 25. Much of the following discussion is indebted to my more thorough discussion of this issue in Image and Word in the Theology of John Calvin (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007), especially Chapter 1. 26. Comm. Ps. 19.1, CO 31:194; CTS 8:307. 27. Comm. Ps. 19.1, CO 31:194C; CTS 8:308–9. 28. Ibid. 29. Comm. Ezek. 1.22, CO 40:49; CTS 22:90. 30. Comm. Ps. 19.1, CO 31:195B; CTS 8:309. 31. Comm. Isa. 66.1, CO 37:436B; CTS 16:409–10. 32. Comm. Ezek. 1.22, CO 40:49B; CTS 22:90. 33. Comm. Jer. 10.1-2, CO 38:59A; CTS 18:8. 34. ‘Hence Moses was instructed from his childhood in that art, and also Daniel among the Chaldeans (Acts 7.22; Dan. 1.17, 20). Moses learned astrology as understood by the Egyptians and Daniel as known by the Chaldeans’ (Ibid.). 35. Comm. Jer. 10.12-13, CO 38:76–7; CTS 18:35–6. 36. Comm. Ps. 19.1, CO 31:195B; CTS 8:309. 37. Comm. Jer. 51.15-16, CO 39:454C; CTS 21:220. 38. Comm. Ps. 147.4, CO 32:427B; CTS 12:294. 39. Comm. Isa. 40.26, CO 37:25B; CTS 15:232. 40. Comm. Ps. 93.1, CO 32:16–17; CTS 11:6–7. 41. Comm. Jer. 51.15-16, CO 39:454–5; CTS 220–1. 42. Comm. Ps. 68.32, CO 31:635–6; CTS 10:43. 43. Comm. Ps. 96.5, CO 32:39A; CTS 11:52. 44. Comm. Gen. 1.14, CO 23:21C; CTS 1:85. 45. Ibid. 46. Comm. Jer. 51.15-16, CO 39:455B; CTS 21:221–2. 47. Comm. Ps. 18.8, CO 31:174A; CTS 8:267. 48. Comm. Ps. 18.9, CO 175C; CTS 8:271. 49. Comm. Ps. 18.14, CO 31:177B; CTS 8:273–4. 50. Comm. Jer. 10.12-13, CO 38:77B; CTS 18:37. 51. Comm. Jer. 51.16, CO 39:455C; CTS 21:222. 52. Comm. Ps. 65.11, CO 31:609A; CTS 9:463. 53. Comm. Jer. 10.12-13, CO 38:77B; CTS 18:37. 54. Comm. Jer. 51.15-16, CO 39:454C; CTS 21:220. 55. Comm. Jer. 10.12-13, CO 38:76A; CTS 18:35. 56. Comm. Ps. 93.3, CO 32:17C; CTS 11:8–9. 57. Comm. Ps. 119.89, CO 32:253C; CTS 11:469. 58. Comm. Ps. 104.10, CO 32:89B; CTS 11:154. 59. Ibid. 60. Comm. Jer. 51.15-16, CO 39:454C; CTS 21:220. 61. Comm. Ps. 104.16, CTS 11:160. 62. John Calvin, Sermons on Job, translated by Arthur Golding (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1993), Sermon 39. 63. Comm. Ps. 8.3-4, CO 31:91B; CTS 8:99–100. 64. Comm. Ps. 8.1, CO 31:87–88; CTS 8:93. 65. Comm. Ps. 104.31, CO 32:96C; CTS 11:169. 66. Comm. Psalm 104 Argumentum, CO 32:84C; CTS 11:143. 67. Comm. Ps. 115.16, CO 32:190B; CTS 11:355.

68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85.

Contemplating the Living Image of God in Creation  Inst. 1 14.22, OS III.172–173; LCC 182. Comm. Ps. 104.31, CO 32:96C; CTS 11:169. Comm. Ps. 8.1, CO 31:88A; CTS 8:94. Comm. Ps. 104.29, CO 32:96B; CTS 11:168. Comm. Ps. 18.47, CO 31:192A; CTS 8:303. Comm. Jer. 10.10, CO 38:72; CTS 18:27. Ibid. Comm. Ps. 104.29, CO 32:95C; CTS 11:167. Comm. Jer. 10.10, CO 38:72B; CTS 18:28. Comm. Acts 17.28, CO 48:416C; CNTC 7:119–20. Inst. 1 5.10, OS III.54.24–29; LCC 63. Comm. Gen. 1.26, CO 23:25B; CTS 1:92. Comm. Acts 17.27, CO 48:416B; CNTC 7:119. Comm. Ps. 77.14, CO 31:718B; CTS 10:219. Comm. Ps. 139.13, CO 32:381:B; CTS 12:214. Comm. Ps. 139.13, CO 32:381B; CTS 12:315. Comm. Ps. 111.2, CO 32:167–168; CTS 11:313. Comm. Ps. 77.13, CO 31:717C; CTS 10:218–19.

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Chapter 5

How Calvinism Travelled to America: The Story of Susanna Bell Susan Hardman Moore In 1640, John Winthrop, the first Governor of Massachusetts – a Reformed Christian who fled the corruptions of England to found a New England – solemnly noted down in his diary an act of God’s Providence. His son kept a substantial library (over 1,000 books) in a room where corn was also stored. Among the books was a volume with three items bound together: the Greek New Testament; the Psalms; and the Church of England’s liturgy, the Book of Common Prayer. Winthrop observed that the Book of Common Prayer was eaten by mice, ‘every leaf of it’, but the mice had not nibbled the New Testament and the Psalms bound with it – or any other book in the room. He had no doubt that this showed how God frowned on the impure worship of the Church of England. Actually, the volume concerned survives in a library in Massachusetts, and I can report that the governor is guilty of overstatement: less than half the pages of the Prayer Book were nibbled, and only at the tips of the lower right-hand corners.1 But despite his exaggeration of the rodent appetite for prayers, Winthrop’s diary reveals two priorities that shaped the settlement of America by English Reformed Christians: a determination to invest everything with providential meaning, and a commitment to wipe out all remnants of ‘popery’ in the cause of gospel purity. Calvin knew what it was to be an exile for the sake of religion. A hundred years before Calvinism travelled to New England, he fled from his native France; for most of his life he was a ‘resident alien’ in Geneva, where he welcomed fellow exiles to a safe haven where they could live out their faith in peace.2 The history of the Reformed tradition is far more rich and complex than the history of Calvin  alone. But Calvin’s knowledge of what it meant to live in exile, and his conviction that theology must go hand in hand with piety, encouraged from the start a strongly international ethos, and a principled pragmatism that looks for ways to adapt creatively to hostile circumstances in order to live out the gospel.



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As my contribution to this celebration of the 500th anniversary of Calvin’s birth, I offer some reflections on the circumstances and convictions that carried the Reformed tradition from the British Isles to the New World. Twenty thousand people crossed the Atlantic in the 1630s to settle in New England, drawn from the ‘puritan’ movement – arguably the most lively and successful strand of Protestantism in England in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, inspired by Reformed theology and piety. I want to open up the topic by tracing the history of just one of the 20,000 migrants, a virtually unknown woman called Susanna Bell.3 In 1673, a printer published a small book called The Legacy of a Dying Mother to her Mourning Children. This contained the deathbed speech of Susanna Bell, the widow of a London merchant. Almost all that is known about Susanna comes from this testimony, which was written down by one of her children at her bedside. She had a story to tell: of a traumatic decision to cross the Atlantic to New England; of the bewilderment of life in a new and fragile settlement; about God’s Providences to her when she returned home to London after a decade in America.4 Susanna set out for the New World in 1634. At first, she had refused to go. Her husband Thomas wanted to leave England, but (said she) ‘I was very averse to it … I having one child, and being big with another, thought it to be very difficult to cross the seas’. Some of her neighbours sided with her: why leave when she had a good life at home? Then, the baby that Susanna carried was born – and died unexpectedly. She pleaded with God to know why: ‘I begged earnestly of him, to know why he took away my child; and it was given to me, that it was because I would not go to New England’. Susanna believed that the loss of her child was heaven-sent to make her change her mind. This way of interpreting events was not unusual in the seventeenth century. Everyone – from convinced Calvinists to ardent Jesuits and from intellectuals to simple folk – expected acts of providence. But it was one thing to share a belief in providence, quite another to agree on how to interpret God’s acts. One matter that was hotly debated (as Susanna’s conversations with her neighbours suggest) was whether God smiled on emigration to America. Was it legitimate to desert one’s native country? Some thought so, others did not. Susanna took her child’s death as a decisive intervention from providence to send her to New England: ‘the Lord took away all fears from my spirit, and … I told my husband I was willing to go with him’.5 Thomas Bell first broached the idea of emigration to Susanna when ‘some troubles’ arose in England. These troubles arose from political and religious conflict under Charles I. In particular, the ‘godly’ – as these Reformed Protestants preferred to call themselves (the word ‘puritan’ came from their opponents)6 – accused the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Laud,

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of making innovations that steered the church in a Catholic direction, undercutting England’s Protestant Reformation. They felt threatened by rules and regulations that seemed anti-Calvinist: e.g. a prohibition on sermons about predestination, and changes to the communion service that seemed to bring back elements of the Catholic mass.7 They were alarmed by events in Europe: the threat from Catholicism seemed all the more real after Spanish forces suppressed Protestantism in the Palatinate. From the perspective of Laud and his allies on the bench of bishops, though, it was the puritans who were the innovators, jeopardizing the doctrine and discipline of the established church. A Laudian official reckoned England was well rid of these ardent Calvinists: ‘seeing they have found a New England’, he wished them all ‘safely transported and pitched there’, to ‘triumph and practise their new discipline and fooleries’, so that ‘our Church and state might be quiet’.8 Yet, although migration to New England has often been called a ‘puritan migration’, to what extent it was religion that catalyzed the exodus from England has been a hotly contended topic.9 Thomas Bell was not merely a man unsettled by the religious tensions of the 1630s: he was also a merchant with an eye for new opportunities in Atlantic trade. Emigrants had mixed motives. Religious aspirations kept company with hopes of profit. Weavers left England’s beleaguered textile industry. Interest in New England was stirred up by earlier ventures to establish fishing settlements – not so much God as cod. Unusually, in comparison to the young and rootless adventurers drawn to other Atlantic colonies, New England attracted people of all ages, including well-settled families. The social bonds in godly circles helped to build up the momentum of migration. Susanna Bell thought first of her children, next of loyalty to her husband and, finally, that ‘many people of God went for New England’. Undeniably, then, an assortment of motives, economic and social as well as spiritual, drew settlers across the Atlantic.10 But does this reduce religion to merely one of many factors in a decision to sail for America? No. Susanna Bell’s story illustrates something fundamental to the mindset of the godly migrants – their determination to weave a providential story out of an untidy mass of events and aspirations. After a great deal of soul-searching about whether it was legitimate to desert England at a time of crisis, they fled what they saw as ‘popery’ to find a refuge in which to practise pure religion – not so much a militant radical errand to set up a city on a hill, but a reaction to pressure, a tactical retreat into exile, a search for a safe haven.11 Those who wanted to discern the hand of providence in this venture looked for a confluence of reasons to emigrate – economic, social, spiritual; the more varied the better, because providence would show itself first one way, then another.12 Everything was grist for the



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mill: disappointments and losses in old England, incentives in New; in Susanna’s case, the death of a child. We might be alarmed to think that Susanna read this sad event as a punitive act of providence to spur her into emigration. But we can set her convictions in a more robust theological frame by looking to the Heidelberg Catechism – written 70 years earlier – which affirms that ‘whatever evil God sends me in this troubled life he will turn to my good, for he is able to do it being Almighty God, and is determined to do it, being a faithful Father’.13 What is impressive about the mindset of the emigrants is their commitment to place the confusions of human life into the framework of providence. This brought coherence to their motives for migration, and gave their fragile new communities resilience. Many other colonial ventures failed. New England survived, against the odds. Susanna’s memories of her first voyage across the Atlantic were still vivid on her deathbed in the 1670s: ‘We were eight weeks in our passage, and saw nothing but the heavens and waters…’. She had perhaps never been on a ship before. One writer tried to reassure travellers by comparing vessels to a cradle, rocked up and down by a careful mother, never turning over: ‘so a ship may often be rocked … upon the troublesome sea, yet seldom doth it sink … because it is kept by that careful hand of Providence by which it is rocked’.14 Susanna’s eight-week voyage was quick: one ship took twentysix weeks. Passengers endured a diet of oatmeal, buttered peas, cured beef and pork, biscuits and dried bread; enlivened by eggs and milk from animals aboard, and fresh fish when passengers or crew could catch it. One traveller wrote with delight about his first meal ashore in New England – venison pasties, beer and wild strawberries. But this was far from typical fare: settlers struggled to make the most of poor soil and to survive the harsh winters. Susanna recalled that the settlers who met them off the boat at Boston ‘gave us the best entertainment they could’. When Thomas wanted to travel by water higher up into the country, Susanna put her foot down: ‘I told him … I was not willing to go again to sea’.15 The Bells settled near Boston, at Roxbury. Susanna felt disorientated and unsure of her faith as soon as she stepped off the boat. She felt sure that if she could only ‘get into the fellowship of the people of God’, this would allay her anxiety. A shock awaited her. As Susanna soon found out, every settler was expected to listen to sermons – for up to six hours on the Sabbath, in cold, draughty meeting houses (where no fire could be lit since they doubled as ammunition stores). However, only those who could show that they had personal experience of God’s grace could be admitted into covenant as church members, and receive the sacraments. The Roxbury church turned Susanna down.

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They … asked me what promise the Lord had made home in power upon me. And I answered them, “Jeremiah 31.3, ‘Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore with loving kindness I have drawn thee’.” But they told me this was a general promise; that I must look to get some particular promise made home in power upon me…

This rebuff, and the quest for spiritual assurance that followed, dominated Susanna’s deathbed testimony. In her own words, ‘I did not ... know what it was to have … grace in my heart, nor what it was to have union with Christ, that being a mystery to me’. To find what the church thought she lacked, she travelled around nearby settlements, from sermon to sermon. In the end, a word of hope came from a woman who told Susanna she had heard a preacher say that ‘the Lord had more glory in the salvation than in the damnation of sinners’. This lifted Susanna’s spirits. Soon afterwards, ‘the Lord … did so quiet my heart, that all the world seemed as nothing unto me’, and eventually the Roxbury church welcomed her into the fold of church covenant. She went to see a local minister to ask him ‘what he thought of the work of God upon my poor soul. And he told me, that he was satisfied that it was a real work of God’.16 New England departed sharply from England, and indeed from other Reformed churches in Europe, in the decision to test everyone who wanted to join a church to see if they had experienced a ‘real work of God’. In the uncertainties of the New World, where settlers from all over England were thrown together in difficult circumstances, this became a valuable way to weld the community together. Arguably, the ‘test’ was as much about settling people down in America as about ‘gatekeeping’ a pure church. Like Susanna, many settlers expected that coming to New England would bring an end to spiritual confusion, but were disappointed. It seems to have been a comfort to confess this to each other. New England’s churches were all about closely connected believers known to each other – not a building or a hierarchy, but a community. The emigrants who crossed the Atlantic were determined to create churches that were the antithesis of everything they thought ‘popish’. The result – a conviction that the visible church existed only in autonomous local churches formed by a covenant vow (the style of church order we know as Congregationalism) – broke the mould in an age where national churches with a strong clerical hierarchy were the norm. What these Reformed Christians came up with was partly a reaction against what they had known in England, and partly a response to a strange New World. Working out their faith in their own time and place, with a deeply practical piety, they shaped a distinctive understanding of what it meant to be a covenanted community in ‘union with Christ’.17



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Back in England, the volatile tensions of the 1630s exploded in civil war in the 1640s, drawing in Scotland and Ireland. Thomas Bell travelled to and fro across the Atlantic, even in troubled times, trading in American fish and timber and taking vital supplies to New England – the infant colonies manufactured nothing, and imported everything from nails and shovels to shoes and soap. When peace came, the victory of parliament’s army meant Reformed Christianity held sway in England. The Westminster Assembly published its strategy for a Reformed church, in partnership with the Presbyterian Scots: a catechism and confession, a directory for worship. Now, with sermons galore available back home, why stay on in New England? If colonists could enjoy ‘soul comfort’ in England, why risk the hardships of life in America? It is a story not often told that huge numbers decided to end their exile and come home: they put the providential logic that took them over to America into reverse, and found good reasons to return to their roots. Harvard lost half its students. A third of New England’s first generation ministers – the people who led their flocks over from England – went back. In the 1640s and 1650s, as many as a quarter of New England’s settlers crossed the Atlantic to Europe again. The extraordinary circumstances that sent them to America in the 1630s were over; new opportunities under the godly government of Oliver Cromwell beckoned.18 Thomas Bell decided that he and Susanna should return London, to join the ranks of the City merchants who had the upper hand in transatlantic trade (Boston-based traders were only junior partners). For the rest of their lives, Thomas and Susanna lived close to the Tower of London, at the heart of the City’s commercial district.19 On her deathbed, Susanna remembered how God kept her safe through the Great Plague of 1665, and the Fire of London in 1666 (the flames scorched the church at the foot of her lane, but came no further).20 At the very end of her testimony, Susanna’s thoughts turned back to her early days in New England – to a remarkable moment when an earthquake shook the ground. While her neighbours ran up and down in panic, thinking the world was at an end, Susanna sat still and drew comfort from Heb. 11.13, which spoke of God’s people as ‘strangers and pilgrims on the earth’.21 In her pilgrimage on this earth, Susanna Bell probably never read Calvin. But the story she told drew deeply on Calvin’s understanding of piety – rooted in everyday life and the mystery of ‘union with Christ’.22 She was caught up in an ethos of Reformed Christianity, conveyed by the preachers she listened to and the godly circles she moved in. Her story is part of the large and famous story of puritan settlement in America: a story that witnesses the creative flexibility of Calvinism to adapt to circumstance, and to its international, global, impact. At the same time, her story is that of an obscure character whose Christian

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testimony has survived quite by accident. The history of Susanna’s obscure life reminds us how strong a mark Calvin’s vision of faith has left on countless ordinary lives.

Notes   1. John Winthrop, The Journal of John Winthrop, ed. Richard S. Dunn, James Savage and Laetitia Yeandle (Cambridge, MA, and London: Harvard University Press, 1996), pp. 340–1.   2. For an example of Calvin’s counsel to Christians who had to go into exile, see Calvin’s Ecclesiastical Advice, trans. and ed. Mary Beaty and Benjamin W. Farley (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1991), pp. 60–2; see also his sympathetic discussion of Abraham’s life as a ‘stranger’, in Elsie A. McKee, ed., John Calvin: Writings on Pastoral Piety (New York: Paulist Press, 2001), pp. 140–1. The early international spread of the Reformed tradition is explored in Philip Benedict, Christ’s Churches Purely Reformed: A Social History of Calvinism (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2002).   3. For the wider picture, see Susan Hardman Moore, Pilgrims: New World Settlers and the Call of Home (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2007).   4. Susanna Bell, The Legacy of a Dying Mother to her Mourning Children being the Experiences of Mrs. Susanna Bell (London, 1673), pp. 44–62.   5. Bell, Legacy, pp. 45–6. On providentialism: David D. Hall, Worlds of Wonder, Days of Judgment: Popular Religious Belief in Early New England (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press), 1990, pp. 71–116; Alexandra Walsham, Providence in Early Modern England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). Although belief in providence went far wider than the puritan movement, the habit of searching for ‘providences’ suited puritan piety and Calvinist theology.   6. Peter Lake, ‘Defining puritanism – again?’ in Francis J. Bremer, ed., Puritanism: Transatlantic Perspectives on a Seventeenth-Century Anglo-American Faith (Boston: Massachusetts Historical Society, 1993), pp. 3–29.   7. Kenneth Fincham, ‘The restoration of altars in the 1630s’, Historical Journal, 44 (2001), pp. 919–40; Peter Lake, ‘Moving the goal posts? modified subscription and the construction of conformity in the early Stuart Church’, in Peter Lake and Michael Questier, eds, Conformity and Orthodoxy in the English Church, c.1560– 1660 (Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2000), pp. 179–205; Nicholas Tyacke, Anti-Calvinists: The Rise of English Arminianism c.1590–1640 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), pp. 181–247; Tom Webster, Godly Clergy in Early Stuart England: The Caroline Puritan Movement c. 1620–1643 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 149–251, 268–85.   8. Clement Corbet to Matthew Wren, 17 Feb. 1636/37, Bodleian Library, Oxford, Tanner Ms. 68, fol. 189.   9. David Cressy, Coming Over: Migration and Communication between England and New England in the Seventeenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), pp. 74–106, argues that ‘the primacy of puritan concerns in the bulk of the movement’ is unproven. Virginia DeJohn Anderson, New England’s Generation: The Great Migration and the Formation of Society and Culture in the Seventeenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 37–46, makes the



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case that ‘puritanism … played an essential part in convincing otherwise ordinary English men and women to take the otherwise extraordinary step of separating themselves from their society and embarking for New England’. 10. Cressy, Coming Over, pp. 74–106, examines a dozen or more motives; Webster, Godly Clergy, highlights the importance of social networks. On fishing, see Mark Kurlansky, Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World (London: Vintage, 1999), pp. 65–70; David Underdown, Fire from Heaven: Life in an English Town in the Seventeenth Century (London: Fontana, 1993), pp. 131–4. Bell, Legacy, pp. 45–6. 11. Theodore Dwight Bozeman, To Live Ancient Lives: The Primitivist Dimension in Puritanism (Chapel Hill, CA and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1988), pp. 81–119. 12. Barbara Donagan, ‘Godly choice: puritan decision-making in seventeenth-century England’, Harvard Theological Review, 76 (1983), pp. 307–34. 13. Heidelberg Catechism (1563), answer to Question 26; see the perceptive discussion by Jan Milič Lachman, ‘Reconsidering the doctrine of providence’, in Wallace M. Alston and Michael Welker, eds, Reformed Theology: Identity and Ecumenicity I (Grand Rapids, MI and Cambridge: Eerdmans, 2004), especially pp. 284, 288–90. 14. Bell, Legacy, p. 46; William Wood, New Englands Prospect (London, 1634), p. 50. 15. Bell, Legacy, pp. 46–7. 16. Bell, Legacy, pp. 47–55; Roxbury Land and Church Records, Sixth Report of the Boston Record Commissioners (Boston: Rockwell and Churchill, 1884), p. 81. 17. Hardman Moore, Pilgrims, pp. 38–45. 18. Bell, Legacy, p. 56; Hardman Moore, Pilgrims, pp. 54–87. 19. Bell, Legacy, pp. 56–7. 20. Bell, Legacy, pp. 59–60. Susanna’s recollections tally with that of her near neighbour in London, Samuel Pepys: Claire Tomalin, Samuel Pepys: The Unequalled Self (London: Penguin Books, 2002), p. 175; Robert Latham and William Matthews, eds, The Diary of Samuel Pepys (London: HarperCollins, 2000), 7, pp. 275–6. [5 September 1666]. 21. Bell, Legacy, pp. 61–2. 22. Calvin, Inst. 3 1.6-10. Brian Gerrish comments on the ‘unabashedly practical’ character of Reformed piety: ‘Tradition in the modern world: the Reformed habit of mind’, in David Willis and Michael Welker, eds, Towards the Future of Reformed Theology: Tasks, Topics Traditions (Grand Rapids, MI and Cambridge: Eerdmans, 1999), pp. 17–18.

Chapter 6

Calvin, Children and the Church Herman J. Selderhuis When Calvin was jeered because he did not have any children, his only child having died in infancy, he countered that in the entire Christian church he had tens of thousands of children.1 That may well sound good, but it also reveals to us something of his sadness at not having children of his own, even though he was very fond of children and took good care of them. Perhaps he wanted to provide them with those things that he had not been allowed to experience as a child. Anyway, through his practical involvement and in his theology, Calvin was always busy with children and young people. So far, this theme has seldom been taken up in research on Calvin, even though it is both interesting and relevant for the church today and in the future.2

Traditional Calvin divides childhood into the three traditional medieval stages.3 The first phase ends at about the age of six. The second period, in which children mature spiritually and morally, lasts until they are about 14. Then adolescence begins, the time when, over a period of 10–15 years, the young adult becomes more mature and sensible, and gains more experience of life.4 From a theological viewpoint, children, no matter how young they are, carry original sin within themselves. ‘Even children from the time they are in the womb, carry their condemnation within – even when they have not yet born the fruits of their own condemnation – they already have the seeds within. Indeed their whole nature and disposition is sinful, and for God, therefore, these can only be abominable’.5 This was not a new idea, as Thomas Aquinas also said that infants were not innocent and could not be saved unless chosen by God. According to Calvin, children of all ages are subject to this judgement and only baptism and faith can be of help. From the very womb, they carry



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a seed of evil within and are damned. Our sinful nature, which is the root of desire and thought, called into existence by God’s anger with adults, is indisputably present in children, too, but does not immediately result in sinful action. However, from the moral point of view, they are not as bad as adults. Because they cannot yet distinguish between good and evil to the same degree as adults and young people, they are less godless. Children’s lack of understanding of pride and ambition is another of their positive characteristics. According to Calvin, this is another reason why Jesus, in the gospel, commands us all to become like children. Childhood is characterized by a sincere and uncalculated piety.6 Calvin’s judgement on youth, the second stage, is divided. On the one hand, he points out the strong passions of this age group. Human nature is always sinful and bad, but it is essential to bridle these characteristics, especially in young people. They are rash, they are immoderate and they cannot keep themselves under control. In addition, they are very haughty and arrogant. What young people mainly lack is practical experience of life, and so they are less able to judge situations and are less reasonable.7 On the other hand, Calvin shows a great deal of understanding for young people. Carelessness is part of being young and so young people should be pardoned when they are a little impetuous. Young people may be a little wild, but they are less stubborn than their elders and are therefore more prepared to change their ways and do better. Calvin has a clear view of the crucial importance of youth. In his opinion, it is a crossroads in life where a young person decides which way he or she will take in life. Young people can find all the directions they need, particularly in the Word of God. Moreover, it is important to acquire good habits when you are young, because the older you grow, the more difficult this gets. It is perfectly possible to suppose that a young person may indeed be sincere and devout. Besides this, Calvin considers that the pleasures that young people occupy themselves with are not basically wrong. People are sociable creatures. Meeting together for some meaningful free-time activity is a reasonable expression of this. In his sermons on Job, Calvin speaks very positively of the way that Job’s children meet and feast together. According to Calvin, when Job asks forgiveness for the sins his children may have committed (Job 1.5), this does not mean that he is passing judgement on their meeting, nor does he condemn the fact of their feasting to improve mutual relationships.8 The basic reason for Job’s request that his children may be sanctified comes from the knowledge that on such entertaining occasions something wrong can very quickly occur; the most difficult thing to do at such feasts is to keep control of oneself. It is also striking that in a sermon on Deut. 21.18-21 – which deals with children’s disobedience – almost two thirds of it was concerned

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with parental obligations. If children are disobedient and rebellious, parents should not lose their tempers and get angry, but should try to win the child over with love and patience.9 A child’s soul is very fragile, and if the parents are too strict, something can easily be destroyed in the child, or it can happen that the child sees no sense or love in the punishment dealt out.10

Covenant Calvin’s view of giving children and young people a place within the Christian community is of fundamental significance. His teaching on the covenant of grace says that children are part of God’s covenant and have the name ‘children of God’. Indeed, although the children of Christian parents are also, by their very nature, corrupt, nevertheless, they are sanctified by supernatural grace. Children are particularly favoured since in the covenant they have the right to be accepted as children, and by this they enter into communion with Christ and are ‘separated’ (sanctified) for the Lord. It is for this reason, too, that children have a claim to baptism and a right to be baptized. Baptism is an incentive for them, because of the promise that God has given them in baptism until they are sensible enough to accept the faith.11 There is an essential difference here from Thomas Aquinas’s point of view, according to which children who have not been baptized go to limbo (a kind of in-between realm), whereas, according to Calvin, they go to heaven due to the covenant of grace. The teaching side (which is certainly not meant to be understood as doctrinal), in conjunction with the cognitive hue of Calvin’s theology, is aimed at stimulating in young people a desire to learn and know things. Certainly, children from the Calvinistic tradition are focused more on the Word than on experience and are more rationally than emotionally oriented. That had concrete historical consequences: it has been shown that children of the Reformed tradition performed better because they came from a reading culture, which was based on the ‘theology of the Word’. In the Reformed tradition, services of worship concentrated on the sermon, which aimed to impart knowledge of God and the Bible. In addition, there was the catechism and instruction at school in which there was also a strong focus on teaching and learning.12 Today’s church could learn from Calvin that there is no life without teaching. People need understanding if they are to know God. Children are people coram Deo (in God’s sight), precious and unique individuals, who are part of a community and who also need this community; creatures who are sinful and therefore allowed to live from grace; people who should know



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that there is more in the world than career, money and possessions and that a human being cannot live from bread alone. That is why the church has to be there; with its sermons, pastoral care and catechism, the congregation has to be a community, not like one of the digital communities, or chatgroups, where someone can be blocked or ruthlessly deleted, but a community that is and remains just that, even when one person seriously disappoints them.

Parents Calvin respected children: that was why he insisted that parents had an obligation to provide their children with a good education and especially a good education in their faith. He considered it a poor deal if parents were only trying to hoist their children as high as they could up the social ladder so that they themselves would be able to live in wealth and luxury. It was for this reason that many parents thought it was more important to teach their children a few scraps of Latin than to impart knowledge of God to them.13 Calvin clearly succeeded in linking learning and knowledge of God in a productive way. In his time and under his influence several schoolbooks were produced that taught children their ABC using the Creed. In Calvin’s opinion, parents should do what they can for their children.14 However, they should not let children get away with everything, since that would be neglecting the children to their detriment, but should correct and punish them. If a child is threatening to go the wrong way, parents must not hesitate to take a tough line. But even if they should fail to get the child back on the right track, they should not give up on the child, but should continue patiently trying to win the child back for God.15 Thus, Calvin advised parents to find a way between pampering their children and punishing them.16

Church instruction By reviving confirmation, which was given to all children in the Roman Catholic Church as a sacrament when they were about 12 years old, Calvin saw a special way for the church to be involved with children. Children who had been accepted into God’s covenant, who had received God’s promise and were allowed live in God’s love and mercy, had the right, in his opinion, to be told what it all meant when they were still children. On his return to Geneva in 1541, Calvin immediately wrote a catechism for the instruction of children, since ‘the church will never be maintained without the

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catechism’.17 Calvin wanted to prepare children for Holy Communion, and to do that they had to know what it meant. Like Bucer, Calvin believed that the Anabaptists who criticized infant baptism were definitely in the right, since they believed that infants could not take a conscious decision for faith. Reviving confirmation, therefore, would bring about the necessary profession of faith. The confession of faith should open the door to Holy Communion, and Calvin thought that it was best that this step should take place in a child’s teens, after he or she had received sound instruction in preparation for confirmation. He organized things so that there were catechism classes for children and servants at twelve noon every Sunday in every church in the city. Parents and teachers were strictly required to make sure that the children attended. The children were tested publicly four times a year, before the celebration of Holy Communion: they had to repeat by heart or summarize portions of the catechism. This counted as their profession of faith and entitled them to share in Holy Communion. Confirmation classes were directed at the children’s hearts as well as their minds. The children were supposed to get to know Christ by learning the crucial truths of salvation. For Calvin, it was a question of growth in the spirit and unity of the teaching. He did not mind that there were various books of instruction for confirmation. As already mentioned, Calvin himself wrote books for this purpose. The first appeared in 1537, the second in 1542. In the second book, he divided the material into 55 sections, in question-and-answer form, so that all the biblical themes could be covered in a year. Calvin wrote an introduction to it that was intended to assist the preacher. The book was soon translated into languages such as Greek, Hebrew, German, Italian and Spanish, and was used extensively. The Latin translation of 1545 became especially well known as an explanation of the Creed. It was the Heidelberg Catechism of 1563 that became the textbook of the Reformed Church, albeit containing many of Calvin’s ideas. However, Calvin was not only concerned with what went on in the brain, but he was also interested in emotional learning. And so he had the children sing and recite the Psalms in their new rhyming form. He was convinced that the older people could learn something from children, too.

School lessons School education was also very important to Calvin. He regularly appeared before the Council to see that good teachers were employed, that they got a pay rise and that masters who had failed were dealt with. Instruction was divided into two departments. The second department was the Schola Publica, the precursor of the Académie that later became the University of Geneva.



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The first department was the Schola Privata. This was divided into seven classes. The children of the sixth and seventh classes mainly read a great deal of French and Latin literature, the foundations for this having been laid in the first years at school. Calvin’s influence was seen here, too. Children were to be quiet in class, they were to work together harmoniously. On Wednesday, they went to listen to the sermon – on Sunday two sermons – they learned verses from the Psalms and from the fourth class on they spoke only in Latin. There was strict discipline, the ‘academic slap’ was permitted and was regarded as being very beneficial. At the end of every week, three scholars were selected to recite the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed and the Ten Commandments. When a new school building was erected in 1558, Calvin went along with some of the builders, carpenters and Council members to check whether the building and the site were suitable. Calvin thought that the building ought to stand in a healthy spot and the children ought to have enough space to go for walks in the area, because children needed plenty of room. And, because he was concerned for the children’s safety, he suggested to the Council that railings should be added to all the windows and balconies in the city’s public buildings.

Love relationships For children to grow up to be participants in the life of the church and the community, they need to be brought up in an ordered family and they also need to be prepared for their own Christian marriage.18 Calvin already had some idea of the attractive and the dangerous aspects of young love. That is why he had clear ideas on what one could do in a relationship and even clearer ideas on what one could not do. No provocative clothing. No make-up. No risqué rhymes, no earthy jokes or erotically breathed songs. No gluttony. No visits to pubs. No going out unaccompanied. No bathing or swimming together. And, of course, no sex. Thus, there was little left for unmarried couples to do except read Calvin’s Institutes together. Calvin regarded any kind of sexuality outside marriage as adultery, which was why people who were attached or engaged were not allowed to have a sexual relationship. As can already be seen in the case of the Reformed Church service, Calvin placed great value on external simplicity and internal stability, and in his view, this also applied to married couples. For a woman, her heart and her spiritual focus were naturally her most important attributes, but Calvin knew that the eye wants to be pleased as well, and so he found it not inappropriate ‘that men when they are choosing their wife should pay attention to her beauty’.19 In his eyes, it was not a sin if a man chose his wife because

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she was beautiful.20 Nor did he consider it wrong that women looked men over when they were looking for a husband. Basically, Calvin believed that a man can certainly look to see how beautiful the woman is, but he should not gaze at her for too long, or else he will start to have sinful thoughts.21 He thought that for some time before they got married, couples should see that they had intense contact with one another to check that they were suited. In this instance, Calvin’s viewpoint diverges from the practice permitted by canon law, by which young people were able to make binding marriage vows to each other even if they met for the first time on their wedding day. Calvin was strongly opposed to parents marrying their children off against their wishes and demanded that young women should be protected against arranged marriages just as much as young men. As he saw it, the parents had to agree to the marriage, but it should take place only if the couple both agreed. ‘If the man and woman are not in mutual agreement and have no love for each other this makes the marriage profane and in the true sense it is no marriage. Since the most important bond is that together they both want it’.22 In contrast to other Reformation clergy, Calvin does not derive the necessity for parental consent to the marriage from the fifth commandment (‘You shall honour your father and mother’). For him, it was rather a matter of the natural order that can be seen in all peoples. For him, a wedding was such an important event in a person’s life that it was only natural to listen to parental advice.23 In this connection, he listed examples from the Bible in which people asked their parents for advice before their wedding. However, it is a little strange that Calvin judges the role of the father as more important than that of the mother. By contrast, it is noteworthy that Calvin found it senseless if a young man only wanted to marry a virgin. He did indeed strongly reject sex before marriage, but the medieval cult of the virgin meant nothing to him. According to Calvin, this cult means that the woman may lie and tell the man she is still a virgin. If, on his wedding night, he discovers the truth, it only leads to problems. Calvin naturally rejected marriage to Roman Catholics, Jews or Muslims, because scripture teaches that you should not go into an unequal yoke with an unbeliever. People who wanted to marry such a partner should be strongly cautioned, he thought, even if there was no legal bar to such a marriage, because, although sinful, marriage to someone of another faith was not forbidden.24 This also applies to marriage to a person of no faith; but in this case, Calvin’s fundamental starting point was that the faith of the believing partner blessed the marriage more than the lack of faith of the other partner profaned it (1 Cor. 7.14). For Calvin, this rule applied especially to a marriage between two people without faith, in which one partner later becomes a believer and the other does not, since marriage of a believer to a person without faith is, as already mentioned, rejected by the Bible and by Calvin.



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All Calvin’s rules on marriage stemmed from his conviction that marriage was a mirror image of the covenant between God and humankind. For this reason, it was so important to him that both parties in a marriage expressed love and affection, that the marriage was entered into voluntarily and that the partners nurtured their close relationship. For Calvin, marriage was not a legal agreement, not a contract, but an alliance, in which each partner is there for the other, in a spirit of service and not as a burden.

Conclusion Calvin knew how important children and young people were for the future of church and state, but he also knew how important it was for children and young people to have a family, church and social life based on biblical standards. His focus on the sinfulness of human beings – the young people, too – and his conviction that ordo and doctrina are the framework within which Christ’s Spirit brings about a new creation, led him to give such special attention to the issues of children and the church. If we are wondering about the relevance of Calvin’s ideas for church and family today, I would just like to mention three things for consideration: 1. In his theology of the covenant, Calvin places the child of believing parents in a direct relationship with God. Thus, the importance of every single child is clearly emphasized. In a world where children are often viewed as objects rather than as protagonists, and where their individuality often disappears behind an email address or a social insurance number, this theology of the covenant can help us to see the uniqueness of every single child. 2. Calvin refers to the parental responsibility that is required in the Bible: parents should accompany children on their way with love, care and discipline. Parents are reminded that they cannot hand over their responsibility to the state, the school, an association or even to their children’s friends. Children are a gift from God to their parents, from whom he also expects the appropriate sense of responsibility. 3. For Calvin, the church is the mother who bears, nurtures and educates God’s children. She does this most especially by teaching the children to know God. That is why there must be preaching and there must be catechism lessons. People can only love and serve God when they know him, and people only know him if they know his Word. Nothing has changed over the centuries in this respect. Today, our children receive an overwhelming amount of information, including information about themselves. It still remains a task for the church to see that they are

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given suitable instruction about God so that they can sift through this information and interpret it, and learn to distinguish what is necessary and what is harmful for their life in church and society, their personal life, their life with their neighbours and, above all, their life with God.

Notes   1. Ioannis Calvini Opera quae supersunt omnia. Ediderunt Guilielmus Baum, Eduardus Cunitz, Eduardus Reuss, Brunsvigae 1863–1900, Vol. I–LIX (=CO) 9, 576.   2. On this topic: A. G. Kloosterman-van der Sluys, ‘Calvijn en de jeugd: kinderen en jongeren in de theologie van Johannes Calvijn’, in: K. Apperloo-Boersma/H. J. Selderhuis (eds), Calvijn en de Nederlanden, Instituut voor Reformatieonderzoek, Apeldoorn 2009, 150–67; B. Pitkin, ‘The heritage of the Lord’, in: M. J. Bunge (ed.), The Child in Christian Thought, Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, MI 2001.   3. CO 31, 80.   4. CO 32, 218.   5. OS 1, 131.   6. See G. Bockwoldt, ‘Das Menschenbild Calvins’, NZSTh 10 (1968), 170–89.   7. CO 29, 687.   8. CO 33, 39.   9. CO 51, 783. 10. CO 27, 681. 11. CO 48, 196–7. 12. R. Hedtke, Erziehung durch die Kirche bei Calvin. Der Unterweisungs- und Erziehungsauftrag der Kirche und seine anthropologischen und theologischen Grundlagen, Quelle & Meyer, Heidelberg 1969; R. C. Zachman, John Calvin as Teacher, Pastor and Theologian, Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, MI 2006. 13. CO 54, 429. 14. CO 27, 678. 15. CO 27, 680. 16. CO 51, 783. 17. CO 13, 71–2. 18. J. Witte, ‘Ehe und Familie’, in: H. J. Selderhuis (ed.), Calvin Handbuch, Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2008, 449–58. 19. CO 2, 112. 20. CO 23, 402. 21. CO 23, 185. 22. CO 23, 306. 23. CO 23, 306. 24. CO 13, 307–8.

Chapter 7

Inconvenient, because Consistent, Theology: John Calvin and Karl Barth Michael Weinrich Both Calvin and Barth were prominent but solitary theologians. They were constantly involved in public debates, in which they argued against the majority and the general feeling – not out of eccentricity, but from a wellfounded theological responsibility. Certainly, there may have been a trace of eccentricity here and there – neither were easy-going characters – but the psychological explanation is too easy. It can tempt us not to give enough attention to the questions up for debate, as it has long found other, seemingly sufficient grounds for the respective extreme behaviour. When statements or decisions are explained away with suspected psychological arguments, they have no chance of being taken seriously. This automatically means that the people who have said or decided something are likewise explained away as a function of the circumstances and are no longer taken seriously. In this chapter, my call for a sober, objective consideration of their respective positions does not mean that they will always be acknowledged to be right; however, it should be assumed that it is possible to reconstruct the grounds leading to this or that position – and one is then at liberty to address them.1 Calvin and Barth found themselves in a position of special responsibility, regarding both the church and the community to which their respective church belonged. I would like to develop the proposition that the reservations, not to say hostility, encountered by John Calvin, mainly in Geneva, and by Karl Barth during the Kirchenkampf (church struggle), then also in Switzerland, particularly during World War II and beyond, have something to do with the resolution and determination with which they both pursued theology and then defended it in public. Each in their own way, and under highly differing circumstances, demonstrate the conflict that is more or less inevitable when faith testifies to the freedom that characterizes it not just internally, but also in the tangible circumstances of real life. That raises a question that is of historical importance and also extremely relevant today.

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Calvin and Barth demonstrate to us that this freedom comprises at least two dimensions. On the one hand, it is fundamentally about the church – about what makes the church the church, and then sustains and moulds its life as a community that is not constituted in itself. And, on the other hand, it is important to publicly preserve freedom in the way the church relates to the concerns of the public community and the prevailing balance of power in society, of which it is always also a part.2 It is obvious that a great potential for conflict slumbers in these connected yet distinct areas. Calvin and Barth extend the scope of Christian freedom rooted in reconciliation into real life. Their consistency in doing so, makes them inconvenient, but realistic, theologians. Their theology sometimes offends the Old Adam, who does not want to be shaken out of habitual lethargy and pious self-satisfaction. There follows a general moaning about ‘orthodoxy’ and ‘dogmatism’. It is no accident that both Calvin and Barth were accused of establishing a new papacy.3 And at the same time, the real challenge of their theology is its encouragement to find a consistently argued theological life that does not just orchestrate itself under the banner of undefined freedom, but is also able to produce evidence of the spirit and power of Christian freedom. I will discuss this position under four different headings: (1) Calvin and Barth were highly controversial theologians. (2). Were there two Reformations or two stages of one Reformation? (3) God is the crucial question, not human beings. (4) Only free individuals and a free church can give God the glory.

Calvin and Barth were highly controversial theologians Calvin has not had the good luck of many famous figures who are remembered for their merits and enjoy a positive image. His fate was rather the opposite. Barth, too, was surrounded by scepticism and rejection during his life. By now, he has largely been accepted as one of the most important theologians in theological history, but it is only partially possible to level down his awkward sides to come up with a quite normal, German-speaking theology professor.4 The distance that some felt towards Barth was above all due to the consistence and resolution with which he took a position in internal church disagreements and also in social conflicts. For Barth, talking about the Sache (matter) always meant talking about the situation,5 sometimes more indirectly6 and occasionally also very directly.7 When Barth appealed to the first commandment to counteract the blatant seductiveness of Nazi ideology, also effective in the church, or reminded the church of its theological foundation, he was concerned to preserve or rediscover specifically Christian freedom.8 To the extent that Barth locked horns with the church or social mainstream, he was marginalized time and again.9 This



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happened as a rule without any detailed engagement with his theological argumentation. In 1934, Bishop Marahrens saw in Barth ‘the greatest danger for the German Evangelical Church (DEK)’.10 So, despite all the attention he certainly received, Barth felt extremely alone.11 Calvin’s solitude had completely different causes, but reflected the same phenomenon, in that he saw himself time and again compelled to contradict the majority opinion and beliefs, for theological reasons, and to call for a responsible, well-founded procedure. The young, heady feeling of freedom that had just awakened in Geneva and led to liberation from the paternalism of bishops, and Rome, became a problem for Calvin in two main areas. First, where this feeling of freedom mainly promoted individuality and not community, and secondly, where politics interfered in church business, as happened particularly on the example of church discipline; here, he saw the danger of political power play dominating the pastoral freedom of the church. Calvin claimed rights for the church over against the bourgeois sense of emancipation, which gave rise to the suspicion that he was aiming to reinstate the old church hierarchy. Consequently, Calvin found himself in a most difficult situation, which rapidly led to misunderstandings. Having studied law, Calvin doubtless understood the need for agreed ordinances. Once the yoke of episcopal power had been cast off, however, he never wanted to replace it by a strict set of Reformation rules.12 It might sound paradoxical today, but for Calvin the question of church discipline was really about preserving and proving freedom.13 For good reason, his concept of the freedom emanating from the gospel differed from and bourgeois individualism, which is limited only by the laws of the state. Thus, Calvin was at loggerheads with the general feeling, particularly of the influential Genevans (at least until 1555), and had to defend himself publicly time and again. The strongly emotive character of the argument indicates – to put it cautiously – that the conflict was not played out at the level of theology alone. In neither case did Calvin’s nor Barth’s theological arguments have a realistic chance of being heard and addressed seriously. The driving forces in the disagreements had a completely different agenda than that of seeking theological clarification. That remains a thorny issue today, and difficult to deal with, which does not mean that the matter should simply be ignored. We will not pursue this issue here, though, but turn instead to the context of the theological arguments.

Were there two Reformations or two stages of one Reformation? In order to bring out the sense in which we may speak of Calvin’s and Barth’s theology as consistent, we should look briefly at Calvin’s Reformation

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and the way Karl Barth perceived it. The question of how the Swiss Reformation relates to the Wittenberg Reformation is crucial here in terms of theological history. It was no less a scholar than Heiko A. Oberman who spoke pointedly of two Reformations with respect to Luther and Calvin.14 His assessment is primarily based on elements of social history. Oberman distinguishes Luther’s Reformation of countries starting from the monastery from the city Reformation of Geneva.15 He is interested in paying tribute to the doubtless differing profiles of the Reformation. He notes that an understanding exclusively focused on Wittenberg is a reductionist view of what really happened – and here we can only take his point. The effect of this socio–historical view could, however, be that the accent laid on self-reliance and difference tends to overlook the close internal connection and fundamental awareness of a common necessity. This would be to throw a problematic light on Calvin that would reflect neither his self-awareness nor his fundamental ecumenical commitment. In his most stimulating lecture about Calvin, Barth speaks of a ‘second turn’ in the Reformation.16 He thereby acknowledges the close ties with the Wittenberg Reformation and, at the same time, the self-reliance of the second generation in the privilege of being able, and obliged, to go beyond the decisions of the first generation, in a context of already perceptible wrong turnings, short-sighted action or inconsistencies. The privilege, at the same time, typifies the special responsibility laid in the second generation. A scholar would not be a good scholar if he (sic) were merely to be a follower and not go further than his teacher.17 Luther is not defended through being imitated but through consistently continuing on the path on which he set out. Abruptly shaking off the strict rules of an all-encompassing church can only be the first step. Having taken it remains Luther’s inviolable and lasting greatness. However, this first step would have been nipped in the bud without the protection of some princes – Oberman speaks of the ‘Reformation of the princes’ – who for a variety of reasons got involved in the Reformation as patrons.18 Even with the support of the princes, uprisings broke out that could only be put down by force and, in some cases, led to chaotic situations that played into the hands of Rome and prepared the ground for the Counter-Reformation. So, if the Reformation was to be more than an adventurous historical interlude, then it had to take the second step towards a fundamentally renewed order of life and a reconstitution of institutions, in order to be able to stand on its own feet in a reliable and theologically responsible framework.19 If the freedom enjoyed in listening to the gospel was not to be inadvertently lost again, it was essential to draw the necessary conclusions for the shape of the church and for its life. It is typical of Calvin’s realistic sobriety that he did not wait for the miracle – comparable with the



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resurrection of the dead – that for him would mean a true Reformation,20 but set himself the task of palpably shaping the church through and through. This is what Barth meant in stating that Calvin made the Reformation ‘capable of dealing with the world and history’.21 Calvin was neither prepared for this indispensable and unrewarding task, nor did he fulfil it easily and flawlessly. His dual achievement consists in the fact that he (1) faced up to it resolutely and ultimately successfully, and (2) gave theological reasons for the need to assume this task of organizing church life. The way in which Barth characterized this second turn taken by ‘Calvin’s Reformation’ says as much about Calvin as about himself. While the Middle Ages lived wholly and utterly ‘on the horizontal’, Luther lived wholly and utterly ‘on the vertical’. Here, Barth uses the language of his book Romans and, at the same time – stimulated by Calvin – goes a step further in real terms. Luther had wrestled to give the Word its due freedom, he says – ‘no matter what might become of works’. The task of the second turning of the Reformation was to create the necessary positive ‘relation between the vertical and horizontal lines’.22 The metaphors of the two dimensions of the cross define Barth’s characterization of the two necessary, connected steps of the Reformation.23 Luther’s question was a typical question for a monk, and it dissolved at the same time as the monastery was dissolved, showing the relativity of what can be achieved on earth. The second turning, according to Barth, connects the liberated word again – as it were ‘by a higher curve in the path’ – with the question about appropriate Christian worldliness.24 Luther’s unique and, as such, admirable achievement is that he ‘initiated the movement’,25 but it is also not just an accident of history that the Enthusiasts in his vicinity were so encouraged.26 Without the second step, the Reformation would not have had the necessary historical stamina. Any suspicion that this second step involved reactivating laws that had only just been set aside can only be rated the expression of historical and theological obtuseness.27 Yet, Barth calls not only Luther but also Calvin a tragic figure.28 His incomparable success consisted in earthing the Reformation and toning it down to be ‘capable of dealing with history’, thereby reaching its limits.29 The tragedy, says Barth, is the fact that the consistency with which Calvin completed the Reformation at the same time calls up its danger line, where the Reformation so to speak comes up against its point of departure. Let me summarize: the medieval meritoriousness of human life became for Luther sola fide; Calvin now adds the free service of life to this sola fide; this also evokes the temptation of free service inadvertently allowing the motif of merit to rear its head again.30 Further history showed that this temptation is by no means only a theoretical possibility. Here, Barth points to the

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undoubtedly dangerous dialectic of the Reformation, which does not fail to accompany its necessary completion.31 Calvin and Barth stand together in that they see faith as something that penetrates the whole of human existence and thus shapes real life. What could be meant by the glory of God if nothing is done on its behalf? 32 On the one hand, faith must know its specific constitutional conditions, and also its mission. After all, it is not intended to lead us out of the world, but right into it, and be lived there to God’s glory: we can only consistently hold to sola fide when its range and existential significance are clearly defined.

God is the crucial question, not human beings Many have wrestled with the meaning of the famous first sentence of the Institutes. Beyond all changes in wording made by Calvin in the course of the different editions of the Institutes, this phrase focuses on the constitutive connection of knowing God and human self-knowledge in the context of all that is seriously called wisdom.33 The starting point is not the question of salvation – Calvin decisively pushes the question of knowledge to the forefront of his theology.34 Everything else depends on it – what we regard as true and what we regard as false, what seems to us to be reliable and what is only appearance, what is the point and what is without importance, what is the subject of a promise and what leads to nought – indeed, what can be regarded as reality at all and what only attempts to play-act. This issue is related to the question of the authority that can give knowledge of the reliability to be expected. There is a distinction here between whether the expected freedom is blind, and thus diffuse or arbitrary, or whether it is focused and thus actually capable of decision. Without clarification of this question, we will move inexorably in a space of vaguely floating and conflicting insights and assessments, which – thought through in all logic – are mainly suited to mutually cancelling each other out. To misquote Wittgenstein, the problem is: what gives us the courage to say something and not to keep silent? We do not pursue theology to tackle a specific problem, not even the problem of humanity. Rather, Calvin emphasizes, theology confronts us with a certain problem that we would not ourselves raise. If we claimed to do so, we would be hugely over-estimating ourselves. We must first have our actual problem pointed out to us. Theology does not discuss human beings who raise problems, but those who are problems – not humans asking questions about God, but God asking questions about humans. For precisely that reason, ‘the order of right teaching requires that we discuss the former (the knowledge of God) first, then proceed afterward to treat the latter (the knowledge of ourselves)’.35 And with respect to knowledge of God, the



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crucial thing is to keep true to the early church’s insight that God can be known through God alone.36 Theology can only do well in the long run if it does not cling to the question of human salvation alone. That is precisely the objection Calvin raises to Sadolet: ‘It is not very sound theology to confine a man’s thoughts so much to himself, and not to set before him, as the prime motive of his existence, zeal to illustrate the glory of God’.37 Human salvation will only be discussed when it is not the driving concern of the reflections. That is the actual challenge of Calvin’s theology, which Barth then also takes up in a new way: it is not the God talked about by human beings who will lead to the hoped-for orientation.38 Rather, it can only be the human being found by God, who does not insist on his/her standpoint and questions, but allows God to explore them in a new way. That is a theological demand, of which both Calvin and Barth knew that it basically reached too high and we will always fall short; therefore, it will consistently determine our historical theological existence. There can be no moving away from this demand, for God’s sake. It must be kept in mind as a permanent objection to our tendency towards theological fixations and creating church traditions.39 In contrast to Barth, the Reformers believed in the possibility of a natural knowledge of God, but de facto, they did not make any substantive use of it.40 Both Calvin and Barth knew that the problem was thus only named, but by no means solved. For an appropriate theological hermeneutic it remains to note: we can only be freed from the captivity of our attempts to liberate ourselves. Where it is not God who frees us from ourselves, freedom can only be an expression of our captivity, or our condemnation to a permanent and provisional self-interpretation. But when God has put us back on our feet and we still more or less trust our own ability to stay erect, we remain dependent on the liberating spirit of God.

Only free individuals and a free church can give God the glory A particularly characteristic bond between the different Reformation traditions is the pronounced motif of Christian freedom.41 However, it remains important to note that the way the Reformers understood freedom is not the same as the later understanding, particularly after the Enlightenment.42 Certainly, there are a number of different accents between Luther and Calvin, but in view of the state of discussion today, it is important to first point to the fundamental agreement43 on the three central aspects: (1) freedom can never be the result of human self-determination, we do not seize it – it seizes us; (2) freedom becomes a sign of authority inasmuch as it makes the world

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profane so that humans can again enjoy the attributed nobility of being made in the image of God; and (3) persons freed from their self-interest are devoted to their liberator and captive creatures, no longer focused on selfinterest but confronting the needs of a reality still characterized by suffering and misery. In this sense, freedom must be understood as a particular empowering of people to deal with reality and automatically implies that there is also a lot to do, as long as we do not yet live in the Kingdom of God. Besides this fundamental agreement, there are also clear differences of emphasis. They are not least connected to the fact that Luther’s opponents were mainly nomistic,44 and Calvin’s libertines.45 While Luther’s emphasis is on God’s act of liberation – thus the first point – Calvin stresses the third point, in raising up the sanctity of the life of the freed person to the glory of God.46 This difference reflects the insights we referred to above in connection with the first and second turning of the Reformation.47 What seemed to be the crucial goal for Luther, from which all else follows as it were automatically, is for Calvin just the starting point, the condition for the possibility of sanctified life, where freedom reaches its destination. That is clear from the very architecture of the Institutes, which has been repeatedly discussed, particularly by Lutherans. It immediately links faith in God’s work with the right life as the decisive goal and only later raises the topic of justification – as the decisive enabling ground, so to speak.48 From the start, this architecture hides any inclination to talk about faith as an end in itself.49 Since the purpose of faith is a life sanctified by God, the doctrine of reconciliation is instrumental, so to speak, in describing the path leading towards this life, a path in keeping with the nature of God.50 Faith is not an end in itself, nor is God’s grace. In its dual form, it is the path – opened up by the Spirit in faith – on which reconciliation fundamentally affects human beings and shapes human life.51 It describes the double benefit of the union with Christ that is characteristic of faith, to which Calvin attached particular importance.52 The perfectum of justification does not correspond to a perfectum of sanctification; rather, this takes place in the context of the lasting, vital dependence of human beings on the Holy Spirit in the respective dynamics of our lives. In his recent study on twofold grace, Cornelis P. Venema distinguishes between the status of being justified and the process of lifelong, lasting transformation of life through the workings of the Holy Spirit.53 When Calvin stresses that this is about turning our lives to God, he is not just thinking of particular deeds, but is concerned for faith to penetrate and transform the whole of human life. We can only speak rather pointedly of sanctification as justification of our action54 to the extent that our actions always represent an expression of our respective lives – Calvin speaks in this connection of the human soul or heart, which are directed to God through the Spirit.55 It is less the motif of repentance than that of gratitude for God’s goodness.56 It is



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significant to remember that Calvin integrates the doctrine of reconciliation into covenant theology, which focuses on the context of Christian life.57 In Chapter 19 of the third book of the Institutes, Calvin shows – in an enlightening appendix on the doctrine of justification – that the life of faith he is describing is about Christian freedom, which has to be firmly protected from privatization.58 The freedom of God’s children or God’s partners takes place in the asymmetrical covenant that was created by God and then fulfilled by God. Christian freedom supplies the decisive foundation for the famous tertius usus legis, according to which it is anxious to follow the commandment ‘willingly obey God’s will’ from a sense of gratitude.59 In his commentary on Romans, Calvin gives a pithy paraphrase of Paul: ‘The meaning is, it is absurd that any, after he is delivered out of bondage, should abide in the condition of servitude; for he ought to defend that state of liberty which he hath received. It is not meet, then, that you should be brought again under the power of sin, from the which you were delivered by the manumitting of Christ’.60 Freedom does not create distance from God’s command, but consoles our conscience in view of the imperfection of our action that remains even in faith.61 No authoritative rules are laid down, but Calvin above all weighs up the problem of the possibility of human action, its justification and scope.62 It is in the freedom constituted in the bond with God that Calvin strove to give the Reformation in Geneva a lasting form and clashed repeatedly with the other expectations of the church. Barth, too, appealed to freedom to underline the equivalent character to the reality created by God’s grace, in which people are allowed to live in joy as God’s opposite numbers. In equivalence to God’s freedom of choice, human freedom cannot consist of ‘naked sovereignty’ or the freedom of choice of ‘Hercules at the crossroads’.63 Fundamentally, it remains underdefined when it is only understood as a possibility. Only its purpose-led acceptance corresponds to the purpose-led gift; its reality can only be confirmed by activity inspired by reality. If it is not accepted as a gift of God, enabling the reality of a relationship with God and our fellow human beings, it is not accepted at all, however much it might try to flaunt the label of freedom, as is continually demonstrated through people’s individuality.64 Since the freedom in question relates to the reality of God’s covenant with humanity, it will strive to affirm this covenant as far as possible, i.e. through ‘choice, decision, resolve, deed’.65 Anything else would be against the conditions of its enabling and would thus follow the law of another reality. Since the law of this other reality is not the law of our Saviour, however, we can assume that the freedom to be found there represents nothing more than a euphemistic renaming of what is really bondage. No freedom can be squeezed out of a law, unless it is the law of freedom, i.e. the naming of its condition and not of its purpose.

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The covenant stands for the reality in which individuals are not left to themselves. Their reality is precisely the realm of freedom, for the sake of which the covenant was established. And so it is not only consistent, but also simply realistic to orient choice, decision and action to this covenant. That will only work if the freedom proves itself in insisting that all other claims on and expectations of a person must not enter into conflict with the laws of the covenant, which constitute human freedom. In this spirit, Barth saw the church in the different conflict areas as called to a completely new freedom in its confession and insight66 – that is the focus of many of Barth’s ecclesiological contributions, particularly in the 1930s and 1940s. It becomes clear here that Christian freedom is by no means promised a conflict-free run. Rather, it will automatically fall into conflict when encountering the many laws that claim to determine the reality of the world. Nothing is so sought-after as reality and so the crucial thing is from whence our eyes are going to be opened for this. Calvin and Barth resolutely pointed to this special claim of freedom to give reality its due. The scepticism frequently shown in their regard, and the open rejection, has something to do with the worrying consistency with which they link faith with life and thus help to turn freedom into a concept that is relevant in more than theological terms. However, placing the whole of life in the context of gratitude freely given can only become a stumbling block for those who have either not yet experienced the actual reason for gratitude or who play it down in a spirit of lethargy, pride or, indeed, insincerity.

Notes   1. That applies, incidentally, to Calvin’s agreement to the sentencing of Michael Servet and also to Barth’s controversial Hromadka letter of 1939. It also applies when today the execution of Servet is now officially recognized as an official black mark on Calvin’s record, as though Calvin had fatally settled a personal account and simply used the general jurisprudence. After all, Servet had already been sentenced. Any milder judgement in Geneva would have reignited the charge that the proper doctrine of the Trinity was not taught in Geneva, particularly as all expert opinions likewise argued for the death penalty that was provided for such a case at the time. Part of the whole Reformation was at stake here, while I do not want to claim that Calvin was infallible, either here or at other points. Whether he – or Barth – had a clean record is not the issue. It is a matter of objective and thus historical honesty to first consider substantive motives as carefully as possible, even in the case of inconvenient observations, rather than rushing to make premature judgements that are more a matter of taste.   2. I avoid the spatial metaphor of ‘inward’ and ‘outward’ freedom, which is immediately misleading. It gives the impression that the relationship of the church to the world is an external relationship, entered into by a special act. In fact, the church is also the ‘world’ in a certain justifiable sense.



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  3. Regarding Calvin, see W. Neuser, Calvin (Sammlung Göschen 3005), De Gruyter: Berlin 1971, 39. On Barth, see Barth’s letter to Thurneysen of 23 November 1934, in: Karl Barth – Eduard Thurneysen Briefwechsel vol. 3: 1930–1935, ed. C. Algner (Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe), TVZ: Zürich 2000, 756–63, 758; see E. Busch, Karl Barths Lebenslauf, Chr. Kaiser: Munich 1975, 278.   4. German-speaking theologians recently tended to distance themselves as far as possible from Barth or to critique a caricature of his theology. While this trend has now declined, the debate about Barth is still marked by sensitivities that go beyond what is usual in academic discussion.   5. K. Barth, Theologische Existenz heute, Chr. Kaiser: Munich 1934 –‘Wo theologisch geredet wird, da wird implizit oder explizit immer auch politisch geredet’. Letter to students in Leiden of 27 February 1939, quoted in E. Busch (see note 3), 305. Barth defends himself against those who want to divide him into a theologian and a politician, in order to enjoy the theologian but disregard the rest (‘die mich in einen Theologen und in einen Politiker aufteilen wollen, um sich dann nur am Theologen … interessieren und erbauen zu wollen, den Rest aber als eine Art pudendum, von dem man nur wünschte, daß es nicht da wäre, bei Seite schieben möchten’). Letter to H. Thomas, 19 June 1947, quoted in Busch, 303. In an open letter to Michael M. Hoffmann (21 June 1932), Barth wrote that the church was political when it had to summon the rabble, pagan polis to execute justice; it was good when representing the real command of God, but bad when representing the abstract truth of a political ideology (‘Die Kirche ist per se politisch, sofern sie die in der Unordnung befindliche heidnische Polis zur Verwirklichung von Recht aufzurufen hat. Gut ist sie dann, wenn es das konkrete Gebot Gottes ist, ungut ist sie dann, wenn es die abstrakte Wahrheit einer politischen Ideologie ist, was sie vertritt’). Karl Barth, Offene Briefe: 1909–1935, ed. D. Koch (Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe), TVZ: Zurich 2001, 229–34, 233.   6. Church Dogmatics should be understood contextually; see inter alia Tim Gorringe, Karl Barth. Against Hegemony (Christian Theology in Context), Oxford University Press: Oxford 1999.   7. Compare, in particular, his open letters that appeared in three volumes in the collected works, ed. D. Koch: Karl Barth-Gesamtausgabe Bd. 35 Offene Briefe 1909–1935, TVZ: Zurich 2001; Karl Barth-Gesamtausgabe Bd. 36 Offene Briefe 1935–1942, TVZ: Zurich 2001; Karl Barth-Gesamtausgabe Bd. 15 Offene Briefe 1945–1968, TVZ: Zurich 1984. Barth distinguishes between regular and irregular dogmatics, without any degree of difference, see CD I/1, 275ff.   8. See also, K. Barth, ‘The First Commandment as an Axiom of Theology ’, in H.M. Rumscheidt. (ed.), The Way of Theology in Karl Barth.Essays and Comments, Pickwick Publishers: Eugene 1986, 63–78; Für die Freiheit des Evangeliums (TEH 2), Chr. Kaiser: Munich 1933; see also M. Weinrich, ‘Karl Barths Kampf gegen die religiöse Versuchung des Nationalsozialismus. Von der bescheidenen Kompromißlosigkeit der Theologie’, in R. Faber and G. Palmer (eds), Der Protestantismus. Ideologie, Konfession oder Kultur? Könighausen&Neumann: Würzburg 2003, 125–45; M. Weinrich, ‘Der Katze die Schelle umhängen. Konflikte theologischer Zeitgenossenschaft’, in Fr.-W. Marquardt u.a. (ed.) Karl Barth: Der Störenfried? (Einwürfe 3), Chr. Kaiser: Munich 1986, 140–214.   9. The following two annotated documentations are particularly impressive: E. Busch (ed.), Die Akte Karl Barth. Zensur und Überwachung im Namen der Schweizer Neutralität 1938–1945, TVZ: Zurich 2008 and D. Ficker Stähelin, Karl Barth und Markus Feldmann im Berner Kirchenstreit 1949–1951, TVZ: Zurich 2006.

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10. Quoted by Barth in a letter to E. Thurneysen of 27 November 1934, in: Karl Barth – Eduard Thurneysen Briefwechsel Bd. 3: 1930–1935, ed. C. Algner (Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe), TVZ: Zurich 2000, 756–63, 758. 11. See Barth’s letter to E. Thurneysen of 25 August 1933, in Karl Barth – Eduard Thurneysen Briefwechsel, Bd. 3 (see note 10), 482–5; see also in the same volume, 337, 352f., 428, 494, 512, 532, 543, 545f., 568, 743, 779, 900, 904; see the notes in the index in K. Barth, Briefe des Jahres 1933, ed. E. Busch, TVZ: Zurich 2004. 12. The Geneva Church Order is rather minimalist, even though the modern reader does not immediately perceive this. 13. See J. Staedtke, Johannes Calvin. Erkenntnis und Gestaltung (Persönlichkeit und Geschichte 48), Musterschmidt: Göttingen 1969, 52. 14. Oberman positions himself here in a debate that goes back to the 1950s; see also M. Freudenberg, Karl Barth und die reformierte Theologie, Neukirchener Verlagsgesellschaft: Neukirchen-Vluyn 1997, 115–17. 15. H. A. Oberman, Zwei Reformationen. Luther und Calvin – Alte und Neue Welt, Siedler: Berlin 2003, 206f. Oberman calls the ‘Reformation of the refugees’ the third Reformation (ibid.), i.e. the third phase of the Reformation (218). 16. K. Barth, The Theology of John Calvin (1922), transl. by G. W. Bromiley, Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, MI 1995, 49, 67f., 71f., 88ff., 93f., 99, 102ff. 17. Ibid., 71. 18. H. A. Oberman (see note 15), 160f. 19. Going beyond the Reformation of doctrine, there also had to be a Reformation of life, which was advanced by the second and third generation of Reformers; see Christoph Strohm, ‘Beobachtungen zur Eigenart der Theologie Calvins’. EvTh 69 (2009), 85–100, 97f. 20. CO 6, 510f.; cf. H. A. Oberman (see note 15), 164. 21. K. Barth, The Theology of John Calvin (see note 16), 90. 22. Ibid., 48f. 23. It is pretty evident that, here, Barth deliberately and repeatedly emphasizes theologia crucis, which is a central Lutheran theme. 24. Ibid., 67. For the second turning of the Reformation and thus for Reformed Christianity, Barth stresses the ‘unity of faith and life, dogmatics and ethics’ that was then characteristic of his own theology; ibid., 77, 80f. 25. Ibid., 70. 26. Ibid., 84. 27. Ibid., 89f. ‘For precisely in the hesitant uncertainty of Luther face-to-face with the ethical problem lies the primary meaning and vitality of the Reformation, which at all events cries out for a second turn to complete it, but not for a step that will betray and surrender the new knowledge and return to the harlot reason and the ungodliness of the papacy, as Luther might put it’ (ibid., 94). 28. H. Stoevesandt points out that Barth later ‘almost ostentatiously avoided’ the term ‘tragedy’; ‘Barth’s Calvin lecture as a station in his theological biography’, in: H. Scholl (ed.), Karl Barth und Johannes Calvin, Neukirchener Verlagsgesellschaft: NeukirchenVluyn 1995, 107–24, 111. 29. K. Barth, The Theology of John Calvin (see note 16), 114. 30. Barth here also dryly refers to a certain tragedy in Calvin’s personality, which ignites in his sometimes too zealous, ‘holy’ temperament; ibid., 124f. 31. Ibid., 114; see also 88, 90. Here lies the reason for Barth’s pronounced loyalty to Luther: ‘A good member of the Reformed communion must begin by simply



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recognizing Luther’s unique position in the Reformation, not moving away from or forsaking Luther, nor, in following the hints of Zwingli and Calvin, feeling compelled to go a step beyond him; but instead, while consciously following those hints, constantly coming back to him’ (ibid., 70f.) – Calvin did not ultimately succeed in describing the unity of dogma and ethics, and it remains a question for Barth whether this can succeed or does not remain an ‘impossible possibility’ for human beings (ibid., 81f., 89), so that the theological task set here remains a dialectic one; see also M. Freudenberg (see note 14), 145. 32. K. Barth, The Theology of John Calvin (see note 16), 77. 33. 1536: ‘Summa fere sacrae doctrinae duabus his partibus constat: Cognitione Dei ac nostri’, Inst. 1 1.1 (1536)–1559: ‘Nearly all the wisdom we possess, that is to say, true and sound wisdom, consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves. But, while joined by many bonds, which one precedes and brings forth the other is not easy to discern’ (Inst. 1 1.1: Institutes of the Christian Religion, transl. by F. L. Battles, ed. by J. T. McNeill, Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville 1960, 23). On the discussion of Calvin’s epistemology, see B. Klappert, ‘Die Rezeption der Theologie Calvins in Karl Barth Kirchlicher Dogmatik’, in H. Scholl (ed.), Karl Barth und Johannes Calvin, Neukirchener Verlagsgesellschaft: Neukirchen-Vluyn 1995, 46–73, 54–9; Edward A. Dowey Jr., The Knowledge of God in Calvin’s Theology, Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, MI 31994; T. H. L. Parker, Calvin’s Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, MI 1959. 34. See also T. Stadtland, Rechtfertigung und Heiligung bei Calvin (BGLRK 32), Neukirchener Verlagsgesellschaft: Neukirchen-Vluyn 1972, 62. 35. Inst. 1 1.3. See also Chr. Link, ‘Streitbare Theologie. Was ist für Kirche und Theologie heute von Calvin zu lernen?’ EvTh 69 (2009), 101–22, 107ff. 36. Inst. 1 13.21. On Calvin’s epistemology, see also W. Niesel, Die Theologie Calvins, 2nd revised edition, Chr. Kaiser: Munich 1957, 23–52; J. Hesselink, ‘Calvin’s theology’, in D. K. McKim (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to John Calvin, Cambridge University Press: Cambridge 2006, 74–92, 77f.; C. P. Venema, Accepted and Renewed in Christ. The “Twofold Grace of God” and the Interpretation of Calvin’s Theology (Reformed Historical Theology 2), Vandenhoeck&Ruprecht: Göttingen 2007, 34ff (this contains further bibliographical references). 37. J. Calvin, Tracts Relating to the Reformation, vol. 1, transl. by Henry Beveridge, Calvin Translation Society: Edinburgh 1844, 33. 38. The extent to which Barth was convinced of having to go beyond the Reformers on this point need not interest us here. The common ground that has been noted raises in itself a fundamental issue for present-day theology. 39. On the problem of natural theology in Karl Barth, which arises here, see M. Weinrich, ‘Theologischer Ansatz und Perspektive der Kirchlichen Dogmatik Karl Barths. Trinitarische Hermeneutik und die Bestimmung der Reichweite der Theologie’, in M. Beintker u.a. (ed.), Karl Barth im Europäischen Zeitgeschehen (1935–1950). Widerstand – Bewährung – Orientierung, TVZ: Zurich 2010, 15–45. 40. See Barth in his address at the Reformed Synod in Barmen, 3–4 January 1934, in: Freie reformierte Synode zu Barmen-Gemarke am 3. und 4. Januar 1934. Vorträge, Verhandlungen, Entschließungen, ed. K. Immer, Müller: Wuppertal-Barmen 1934, 27; see, by contrast, inter alia G. J. Postema, ‘Calvin’s alleged rejection of natural theology’, Scottish Journal of Theology 24 (1971), 423–34. 41. When the Evangelical Church in Germany (EKD) in 2007 placed its reform process under the heading Church of Freedom (Kirche der Freiheit), it struck a central

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nerve of Reformed theology. It merely remains problematic that freedom is not self-explanatory. One cannot help feeling that this positively connotated term was mainly used to attract attention from all directions. 42. Also regarding the ideas of continuity, according to which the Enlightenment understanding of freedom was a consistent and logical fruit of the Reformation, one should have a good look to ensure that actual conflicts are not just levelled over. See M. Weinrich, ‘Zur Freiheit befreit. Vorüberlegungen zum systematischtheologischen Orientierungshorizonts eines christlichen Freiheitsverständnisses’, in H.-R. Reuter et al. (eds), Freiheit verantworten. Festschrift for Wolfgang Huber on his 60th birthday, Gütersloher Verlagshaus: Gütersloh 2002, 90–101. 43. See also Chr. Link (see note 35), 115. 44. Luther‘s encounter with enthusiasm and the demand to completely abolish the law did not determine his Reformation impulse but caught up with him later, so that he saw himself as forced to create clarity here, e.g. in his Treatise against the Antinomians. 45. See also T. Stadtland (see note 34), 16. 46. E.g. in Chapter 4 of the first edition of the Institutes (1536). 47. Note that Calvin reacted as early as 1547 to the Counter-Reformation understanding of justification; this was set forth in the first phase of the Council of Trent, and he followed the process with great attention, subsequently publishing and commenting on it; see ‘Canons and decrees of the Council of Trent, with the antidote’, in: John Calvin, Tracts Relating to the Reformation, vol. III, transl. by Henry Beveridge, Calvin Translation Society: Edinburgh 1851, 17–188. 48. As the final consequence of underlining the sole efficacy of God in the act of grace, Calvin raises the motif of predestination, as a kind of afterthought. For that reason alone it took on a relatively important role within his theology, because Calvin, time and again, had to defend himself against the detractors of this concept; he did this with great vigour because it was of fundamental significance for internal cohesion, particularly of the numerous refugee communities; see H. A. Oberman (see note 15), 218ff. 49. C. P. Venema sees the pre-ordering of sanctification before justification as founded in the consistent exclusion of justification being possibly played out against good works, and God-fearing action being accorded some kind of justifying significance. ‘Consequently, Calvin’s order of treating the “twofold grace of God” is a rhetorical device that serves his theological understanding of justification and sanctification as corollary, though distinct, aspects of the grace of God in Christ’ (see note 36, 137). 50. It must be made quite clear that this order is not an objectively weighted ranking. With respect to theological weight, there can be no doubt that justification is the first and foundational element of faith; see numerous proofs in C. P. Venema (see note 36), 95ff. 51. Ibid., 79. Calvin attributes double grace to the priestly (justification) and royal (sanctification) office of Jesus Christ (see T. Stadtland [see note 34], 143), which was later consistently taken up and further elaborated by Barth (CD IV/1 and CD IV/2); see here the basic study by D. Schellong, Calvins Auslegung der synoptischen Evangelien (FGLP 10/38), Chr. Kaiser: Munich 1969, 236ff.; C. P. Venema (see note 36), 145 ff. 52. Inst. 3 11.1; see inter alia C. P. Venema (see note 36), 83ff.; see also M. A. Gracia, Life in Christ. The Function of Union with Christ in the Unio-Duplex Gratia



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Structure of Calvin’s Soteriology with Special Reference to the Relationship of Justification and Sanctification in the Sixteenth-Century Context, Diss. Edinburgh 2004. 53. See note 36, 111, 130. The justification event is far from being God acting on human beings; ibid., 113. 54. Calvin himself spoke of double justification; ibid., 163ff. 55. Inst. 3 3.6. Here, when Calvin likes to say that we become God’s children, he refers, on the one hand, to our ‘soul’s’ trusting orientation to God and, on the other, to the remaining imperfection of our activity, which our loving father still regards with joy; see T. Stadtland (see note 34), 200. 56. C. P. Venema (see note 36), 116f. 57. See inter alia H. H. Wolf, Die Einheit des Bundes: Das Verhältnis von Altem und Neuen Testament bei Calvin, Neukirchener Verlag des Erziehungsvereins: Neukirchen 1958; C. P. Venema (see note 36), 183ff. 58. See also W. Niesel (see note 36), 139ff. 59. Inst. 3 19.4. 60. On Rom. 6.18, J. Calvin, Commentary upon the Epistle of Saint Paul to the Romans, ed. H. Beveridge, Calvin Translation Society: Edinburgh 1844, 162f. 61. Inst. 3 19.4; see also M. Freudenberg, ‘Zum Antworten geschaffen. Anmerkungen zur Freiheit christlichen Lebens in reformierter Perspektive’, in J. v. Lüpke (ed.), Gott – Natur – Freiheit. Theologische und naturwissenschaftliche Perspektiven (VKHW NF 10), Neukirchener Verlagshaus: Neukirchen-Vluyn 2008, 147–62. 62. See K. Barth, The Theology of Calvin (see note 16), 199f. It can come as no surprise if Calvin then reads the Letter of James quite differently from Luther; see T. Stadtland (see note 34), 201–3 with appropriate sources. 63. See K. Barth, CD IV/2, 49; K. Barth, The Humanity of God, Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, 1960, 76. 64. Ibid., 10. 65. Ibid., 9. 66. K. Barth, Das Evangelium in der Gegenwart (TEH 25), Chr. Kaiser: Munich 1935, 34. He goes on to say (and here it becomes clear that the issue is not crass contrasts but mobile dynamics, which operate without proper substantiation): ‘Zur Freiheit von allen denjenigen Voraussetzungen, Bindungen und Verpflichtungen, die ihr nicht durch das Evangelium, sondern von außen, durch die Rücksicht auf die eigene Natur und Richtung der geschichtlichen Kräfte und Mächte auferlegt wurden. Ihre Beziehungen zu diesen Kräften und Mächten müssen – nicht gelöst, wohl aber gelockert, sie müssen in Erfüllung jener Solidarität wieder zu Beziehungen eines lebendigen kirchlichen Handelns an ihnen werden’.

Chapter 8

Ecumenism – Introduction Michael Weinrich Calvin was decided and consistent in his desire to be a ‘catholic’ theologian. He took the view, however, that he could really only succeed if there were greater acceptance for the actual theological meaning of catholicity. Through its connection with the pope, in particular, the church had lost its universal dimension, so that it could no longer be regarded as the advocate of true catholicism. Calvin also developed a pronounced commitment to a place-related contextual shaping of the church, but this by no means countered his understanding of catholicity, quite the contrary. While the church seeks to take shape as a function of its respective local and historical conditions – from this angle, we can then speak of the church in the plural – it must always keep a careful eye on preserving its catholicity. The different churches in their particularity must retain a vital sense of the universal community of Christendom, i.e. for the Catholic Church. Ecclesiology is by no means a fringe issue for Calvin’s theology – by contrast, many Reformed theological approaches think they can appeal to him in their very indifference to ecclesiology. Covenant theology plays a special role for Calvin as the theological basis for the ecumenical context of his ecclesiology – not as a specifically Reformed talent, but as the essential context in which God chooses first Israel and then also his church. The covenant causes ecclesiology to appear in the context of God’s faithfulness to his people, thus from the start hindering the temptation that ecclesiology might deteriorate to become an internal church preoccupation with itself. Here, many a theological treasure still remains to be discovered. The true church is always more than the visible church, but it never shows itself other than in the visible church. Only if we look to God is there a chance that church unity will come into view in an appropriate manner. And unity is also only in good shape if it above all seeks commitment to God’s work in the church. It can only be the body of the Christ when Christ is truly its head.

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Once again, it is no problem for Calvin to envisage within the one universal church a large number of different individual churches, ‘disposed in towns and villages according to human need, so that each rightly has the name and authority of the church’ (Inst. 4 1,9). This wording focuses on the actual demands arising from the differing situations of congregational and church life, which need to be taken into account. What Calvin found important for Geneva did not have to apply in the same way in Basel or in a small diaspora congregation in France. All attempts at homogenization are exposed to the temptation of weakening the forces necessary for actual confession in the respective situation, since the energy invested in the ultimately unending unification endeavour is wasted. While it is decisive for the church to achieve a concrete form, this must not become an end in itself and be cultivated for its own sake. Calvin is strongly against any belief in form – it risks becoming idolatry – at the same time, he is very sure that the church is only really viable when it has a well-founded structure corresponding to its circumstances. Furthermore, Calvin proves to be a resolute ecumenist when he relieves the churches of overly high demands regarding doctrinal consensus, however desirable that doubtless remains. A strict regulation of doctrine would be tempted to fix faith to doctrine instead of to Christ. Differences of teaching on less central questions must not give reason for division among Christians. A consensus in the trinitarian understanding of God and regarding the complete dependence of humankind on God’s grace should suffice to maintain church unity. Michael Beintker points out that Calvin’s very understanding of the Reformation contains an ecumenical potential. Reformation is neither a historical date nor a specific peculiarity of a denomination referring to a special event on a specific date. Rather, Reformation must be understood as the unceasing endeavour of the church to focus ever anew on its origins. The semper reformanda is ecumenically significant in that it unites the churches in their continuing orientation to what they are from their origins and thus are ever to become. The church always has occasion to turn to Christ. Calvin learned from Cyprian that all oddities and church divisions are rooted in the fact that the church does not return ever anew to the source of the truth to which it is called to witness. Calvin’s picture of the reality of the church was strongly marked by the diaspora and refugee congregations. That explains, first, the emphasis on allowing for contextual aspects in organizing church life. Secondly, the congregations were completely dependent on mutual support and strengthening, both spiritually and also practically, because they could expect anything but support from the authorities. They stressed the need for a sanctified way of life on more than theological grounds. In the fragile state in which the



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Reformation was at the time, this was of vital importance for their survival. The commitment to the unity already given in Christ, as attested in the New Testament, had to be shown to the world at all cost, so that it could unfold its encouraging effects in difficult situations. Calvin also made a specific contribution to ecumenism in the explicit relations between justification and sanctification: by seeing sanctification, i.e. a godly life, as the goal of his teaching on reconciliation, he formulates a concern that is shared in a different way by both the Orthodox Church and the Roman Catholic Church. However, he only really defines this goal when it is rooted in the justification event. The justification event is thus not in and of itself the goal of God’s ways with humankind, it is the cornerstone on which the living history of God with humanity – and thus Christian life – has found a sound basis. Sanctification says that God does not just raise us up through justification, but also enables us to walk upright through not suddenly withdrawing grace from our still imperfect lives. Calvin calls it God’s second grace, in which he does not leave humankind and the church alone to organize their life on the basis of justification; they will continue to depend on this grace. Setri Nyomi reminds us in his chapter that the question of responsibility for the world and a clear ethical positioning of the churches has something to do with the church’s ecumenism. The question of church unity cannot be separated from the question of justice in our world. Unity is not a goal in itself, but it serves to make the church’s witness clear. The church’s witness does not lead out of the world with all its suffering, but right into the world. Hence, the church cannot bear witness credibly without reference to the burning issues of our present-day reality. Finally, Calvin was modern in that he did not aim for a huge united church, but the freedom expected of the church by the gospel. The ecumenical model of reconciled diversity, when properly understood, goes in the direction of Calvin’s unitary vision for the church, even if the preconditions have meanwhile changed in a way that Calvin could never have imagined. For him, the visions of ecclesiastical homogeneity were a thing of the past. However, that did not mean flinging open the doors to free-floating individualism, but rather every church accepting the challenge responsibly to seek and define its historical form of the one Catholic Church. He would certainly find modern denominationalism extremely perplexing. Part 2 cannot deal with all aspects of the wealth of ecumenical stimulus to be found in Calvin. However, the following authors take up various important facets: André Birmelé recalls elements of Calvin’s ecclesiology that are eminently capable of connection with the ecumenical movement, and which Reformed churches have sometimes forgotten, thereby leaving them outside ecumenical concerns. Setri Nyomi points to the still challenging social–ethical

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profile of Calvin’s theology, which cannot be separated from his understanding of church unity. Odair Pedroso Mateus sees the ecumenical work of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) as in line with Calvin. The Reformed emphasis on the catholicity of the church has meant that in dialogues between WARC and the Roman Catholic Church, the former has always been careful to coordinate with the World Council of Churches. Michael Beintker points to the fundamental importance of the implicitly ecumenical character of Calvin’s theology, which is not least rooted in the ongoing lively engagement with the origins and sources of Christian faith. From the Roman Catholic side, Stefan Scheld sees in Calvin’s work an ecumenically relevant principle regarding scripture, which reference to the self-interpretation of scripture can explain only insufficiently.

Chapter 9

Calvin’s Concept of the Church and Present-Day Ecumenical Challenges André Birmelé It is beyond doubt that the thinking, theological insights and reforming work of John Calvin have had a decisive effect on the churches – in the sixteenth century and in our time, in Europe and all over the world. It is also beyond doubt that John Calvin was a man of his age. It would be anachronistic to want to directly apply our current criteria to him, and to assess him accordingly. Calvin’s manner of thinking corresponds to another age and another context. It is nevertheless hard to understand why this Reformer has undeservedly fallen into relative oblivion, even though the Geneva church model is characterized more by that past age than the projects of other Reformers. Thus, it is all the more urgent today to clarify the nature of Calvin’s lasting legacy, and the questions in which his significant contributions have lasted beyond the particular context of his time. This chapter will undertake such a clarification with respect to ecumenism. Many questions on the agenda of modern ecumenical research or arising from recent church developments may already be found – in outline or in detail – in Calvin’s reflections on the church and its unity.1 Calvin concerned himself with the question of church unity more than the other Reformers did. He never tired of emphasizing his attachment to ‘unity and concord’.2 This may also be linked to the fact that, as a Reformer, he belonged to another generation than Luther and Zwingli. Calvin suffered greatly under the division of the different new church jurisdictions created by the Reformation. In a defence against attacks by Joachim Westphal, the chief Lutheran pastor in Hamburg, he remarked that, when a student, the arguments between Luther and Zwingli had kept him from reading their books for quite some time.3 In his correspondence with Archbishop Cranmer, he numbered the division of the churches among ‘the greatest evils of our century’.4 Since this suffering caused by church division was also the point of departure for modern ecumenism, it is all the more important to highlight a number of connecting lines over the centuries.

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The concept of the church Wherever we see the Word of God purely preached and heard, and the sacraments administered according to Christ’s institution, there, it is not to be doubted, a church of God exists.5

Calvin gave this well-known description of the church as early as in the first version of the Institutes (1536). It is obviously very close to the definition given in Article 7 of the Augsburg Confession (CA), the Lutheran confession of 1530. Calvin was familiar with the CA, having signed it in his Strasbourg period in  1540.6 He seems to have deliberately adopted this definition in his own writings, thus establishing a significant bond with the Wittenberg Reformation. The fact that this definition of the church was included almost word-forword in many Reformed confessions of the time – e.g. the Gallic Confession of Faith (Confession de foi de la Rochelle) or the Helvetica Posterior7 – reveals the fundamental consensus of the different contemporary branches of the Reformation in their understanding of the church. There are certain differences between the CA and Calvin’s approach. Calvin stresses that, in the true church, God’s Word must not only be preached, but also heard. Hearing is part of preaching the gospel. CA 7 understands the church as the ‘community of saints’, which is missing in Calvin’s definition above. However, it must not be concluded that Calvin wanted to neglect this dimension. Quite the contrary. At many other places in his writings, he emphasizes that the church is the communion with Christ and the communion of the faithful among one another. Where the CA is content with the concept of congregation, Calvin – in the sixteenth century – uses the term communion. This is particularly expressed in his Commentary on the Letters to the Corinthians. In the church, we have communion with Christ,8 and because there is this new quality relationship to Christ, because we are ‘integrated into Christ, we have communion among ourselves. I would ask, what is the source of that koinwni, a or communion, which exists among us, but the fact that we are united to Christ…’.9 Calvin stresses that Christ is the only head of the church and that through him the elect are united with God and thus form one body.10 So, the church is not just a club of the converted. It has another quality, a divine dimension; it is the church of faith. Its understanding is rooted in the understanding of God and in God’s plan of salvation for the whole of humanity. The church is part of God’s salvific plan and thus instituted by God. God, who created the world and became human in Christ, today gives us salvation and redemption in the power of the Holy Spirit, in and with the church. That then leads to the well-known statement by Calvin, that the

Calvin’s Concept of the Church and Present-Day Ecumenical Challenges  89 church is the mother of the believers. This is stated in the very title of the first chapter of Book IV of the Institutes, the part explaining how to understand the church. Calvin concludes the introductory section with the claim: ‘…so that, for those to whom he (God) is Father, the church may also be mother’.11 It follows from this that there can be only one church, and not several. The church is not the consequence of a human initiative. Nor is it up to a person to join the church and thus become a member of God’s people: ‘For there is no other way to enter into life unless this mother conceive us in her womb, give us birth, nourish us at her breast, and lastly, unless she keep us under her care and guidance until, putting off mortal flesh, we become like the angels’.12 There is neither forgiveness nor salvation outside the church.13 This understanding of the church as an object of faith, the mother of the faithful or the only place of redemption, leads us to our first important finding: there is an important discrepancy between Calvin’s understanding of the church and many present-day ‘Protestant’ concepts of it. It is frequent to find Protestants assuming that the church is chiefly a union of people of faith, and downplaying its special, divine dimension. This also applies to many Reformed churches; in numerous other questions, they appeal directly to Calvin, but then, amazingly, neglect his ecclesiology.14 With respect to their ecclesial self-understanding, present-day churches have been shaped far more by events in later centuries than by the sixteenth century; hence, our question about the present meaning and authority of the theological – and particularly ecclesiological – insights of Calvin.15 The relationship between the approaches of the Reformation period and the situation of modern church identities that appeal to the Reformers is a question affecting all present-day churches of the Reformation. In respect to Calvin’s understanding of church, this discrepancy is particularly apparent. Reading Calvin’s writings, we discover an ecclesiological reflection that is of great interest to the ecumenical movement of today. It has adopted many of Calvin’s approaches, and is still doing so, whether consciously or unconsciously. We are first struck by a certain ecclesiological unevenness in Calvin’s theological writings. This can be seen, for example, when comparing the different editions of the Institutes. While the 1536 edition only refers to the church in a short chapter, Book IV of the 1559 edition, dealing with the church, is the longest.16 This ever greater weight of ecclesiological questions can be explained both by Calvin’s quest for the true shape of the church and also by empirical developments in the daily life of the church in Geneva. It is interesting to observe that this tendency also characterizes the modern ecumenical movement. Ecclesiology works like a magnet, ultimately attracting all dialogues to take it up, even if the dialogue had another point of departure and has other goals.

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Noting differing degrees of emphasis on ecclesiology only makes sense if it is linked with content. Calvin’s proposals are extraordinarily up to date. Just think of Calvin’s reflections on the church as communion. The understanding of the church as communion is constantly stressed today – sometimes so much that you really no longer know what the term is supposed to mean.17 Calvin’s relating of communion with Christ to the communion of the faithful, and the resultant understanding of the church as having a divine dimension and not being restricted to a club of the converted – not to mention his emphasis that this communion must extend to the whole of humanity, going beyond the church – these ideas have been underlined again and again in recent ecumenical thinking. Unfortunately, the fact that they can be found in the works of Calvin is seldom mentioned. It is all the more important for modern ecumenism that the Reformed tradition contributes the insights that are already present in Calvin. The following will take up some of these approaches.

Unity of the Catholic Church In all his writings, Calvin stresses that there is only one church. The whole first chapter of Institutes IV seeks to prove this claim. Calvin declares that Christ, the one groom, can only have one bride, the church.18 Calvin thus holds it to be impossible that Christ’s church can be divided. The church is, and remains, catholic: ‘The church is called “catholic,” or “universal,” because there could not be two or three churches unless Christ be torn asunder, which cannot happen! But all the elect are united in Christ that as they are dependent on one Head, they also grow together into one body, being joined and knit as are the limbs of a body’.19 Calvin resists the claim that the supporters of the Reformation have separated from the church of Christ; they are neither heretics nor schismatics ‘…who, by making dissension, break the communion of the church…’.20 This does not lead him to write off the Roman Church completely. Admittedly, it has betrayed the Holy Eucharist and its ‘public assemblies have become schools of idolatry and ungodliness’.21 However, it does retain traces of the true church, and Calvin does not doubt that true baptism is still also present in the Roman Church.22 There are two things to consider at this point: Calvin is aware of the distinction between the visible and invisible church. It is highlighted in the first version of the Institutes (1536) and less so in the later versions, but by no means abandoned. The invisible church is the church of the elect, while the visible church also includes hypocrites.23 The difference between the invisible and visible church has constantly centred

Calvin’s Concept of the Church and Present-Day Ecumenical Challenges  91 around this focal point – the presence of hypocrites and not just the elect in the visible church.24 Yet, it only stresses one aspect of Calvin’s statements on the topic, and such one-sidedness is likely to suggest that the visible church is a negative factor. The latter opinion does not do justice to Calvin, since he does not understand the tension between the invisible and visible church as that between opposites (or even as contradiction). The church known from the creed is certainly the invisible church, which only God can see and which embraces all true believers at all times and at all places. However, it is only accessible to us in the form of the visible church, and ‘we are commanded to revere [this visible church] and keep communion with the latter’.25 For God is united with this visible church. In and through it we have a share in God’s invisible church.26 Nor is it possible to understand the invisible church as the true church and the visible one as the false church. Calvin certainly knows the difference between the true and false church,27 but it only makes sense if it is applied to the visible church. This church is indeed far from flawless. For Calvin, every visible shape of the church is also fallible. That is because of the presence of hypocrites in its midst.28 Yet, the true faithful are not without fault, either. Calvin emphasizes this against the Spiritualists of the sixteenth century and points to the church in Corinth. He notes that, despite serious ‘abuses’, Paul regards it as ‘God’s church’.29 Despite the many vices and the great corruption in preaching and ethics, there were still characteristics of the true church in Corinth. ‘…lest we should aspect in this world a Church without spot or wrinkle, or immediately withhold this title from any gathering whatever, in which everything does not satisfy our standards. For it is a dangerous temptation to think there is no Church where perfect purity is lacking. The point is that anyone who is obsessed by that idea, must cut himself off from everybody else, and appear to himself to be the only saint in the world, or he must set up a sect of his own along with other hypocrites’.30 Calvin uses this statement, directed at the left wing of the Reformation,31 as an argument for the need for church disciplina. The error of the individual affects the whole congregation and thus the church needs forgiveness of sin.32 How can we recognize that the visible church is the true church? Calvin’s answer is stated above: ‘Wherever we see the Word of God purely preached and heard, and the sacraments administered according to Christ’s institution, there, it is not to be doubted, a church of God exists’.33 These two signs are not added to the usual notae ecclesiae (marks of the church), but wherever word and sacrament are celebrated in truth there is the una sancta catholica et apostolica ecclesia. Here, Calvin argues like the other Reformers. It is not the presence of the episcopal ministry or any other structure that shows the una sancta, but the reality of the two symbola (word and sacrament). This

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means, conversely, that the lack of these symbola suggests that we are not dealing with the true church.34 Calvin justifies this – and here he is wedded to the exegesis of his age – with the indication that Christ himself instituted the preaching of the Word, baptism and the Eucharist;35 Christ himself did not personally perform other church rites, according to biblical testimony. Against this background, Calvin distinguishes between essential and secondary teachings of the church. ‘For not all the articles of true doctrine are of the same sort. Some are so necessary to know that they should be certain and unquestioned by all men as the proper principles of religion. Such are: God is one; Christ is God and the Son of God; our salvation rests in God’s mercy; and the like. Among the churches there are other articles of doctrine disputed which still do not break the unity of faith. Suppose that one church believes – short of unbridled contention and opinionated stubbornness – that souls upon leaving bodies fly to heaven; while another, not daring to define the place, is convinced nevertheless that they live to the Lord. What churches would disagree on this one point?’36 This example is not just about how to organize congregational life, but also about differences of theological opinion that are possible and necessary. There can even be certain differences in understanding the doctrine and administration of the sacraments.37 Thus, there can be ‘fault’ in the church, ‘but this ought not to estrange us from communion with the church’,38 if we can still recognize the symbola in the church that make it the expression of the una sancta. The precondition for possible differences, however, is agreement on the central question of salvation in Christ, the message of grace, mercy and the love of God for the world. ‘Therefore, the church must tumble down when the sum of religion dies which alone can sustain it’;39 a phrase that recalls the Lutheran statement articulus stantis et cadentis ecclesiae, which – according to Theodor Mahlmann – probably stems from Franz Turretini, the Reformed theologian from Geneva.40 Statements about the Catholic Church made in the sixteenth century cannot be directly transferred to the twenty-first century either. However, it is striking to see the way in which Calvin’s theological approaches have been taken up in the modern ecumenical movement. This does not apply to other Reformers to the same degree. Good evidence of this is the study The Church of Jesus Christ (CJC), issued in 1995 by the Leuenberg Church Fellowship, today the Community of Protestant Churches in Europe (CPCE).41 For the first time since the sixteenth century, Lutheran, Reformed and United churches in Europe agreed on basic ecclesiological differences and a common understanding of unity. After this study appeared, a couple of Lutheran churches in Scandinavia (Norway and Denmark) were able to join the fellowship and sign the agreement. In its first chapter, the CJC study explains the essence of the church

Calvin’s Concept of the Church and Present-Day Ecumenical Challenges  93 and strives, in particular, to overcome wrong alternatives, often understood as ‘Protestant’. Above all, the tandem ‘invisible–visible church’ is not equated with the ‘true–false church’. It is stressed that the church of faith is not a purely spiritual factor, but can only be experienced as a visible reality. Within this visible church, it is important to distinguish between true and false forms.42 The mutual ordering of the Wahrzeichen (Luther’s term for ‘marks of recognition’) of the church (true celebration of Word and Sacrament) and the qualities of the church (unity, holiness, catholicity and apostolicity) are explained at length. It is unnecessary to set out here all the individual conclusions of this study. Suffice it to say that its approach is identical with the above-mentioned statements by Calvin. The same applies regarding the claim that there is only one church of Jesus Christ, which is realized at different places in different forms. This question is probably the most difficult question in the dialogue with Rome, since the Roman Church has trouble recognizing another form as the expression of the true church. Calvin and the CJC are not concerned to overcome diversity as such, but see the need to check whether, in this diversity, the preaching of the Word based on a ‘pure’ understanding of it, and the true celebration of the sacraments remain preserved.43 The CJC study is more cautious regarding the distinction familiar to Calvin between fundamental and secondary articles of faith. There is a risk of this distinction being misunderstood as a minimum consensus. Certain points require full consensus, it says, whereas in other areas there is ‘legitimate diversity’. The CJC study understands the true celebration of Word and Sacrament as a hermeneutic key, which has to be used in every theological question and distinguishes between legitimate and illegitimate diversity. This does not contradict Calvin’s view, but takes it further and protects it from misinterpretations. In this question too, the CJC study is Calvin’s reception in its basic approach and explanations. Even though it does not directly refer to Calvin, it – perhaps unconsciously – adopts his attitudes.

Church ministry An important element of an ecclesiology is its understanding of ministry (sometimes called office). It is important to note the nuances in the way Calvin developed his thinking in this regard. First of all, we note great similarity between Calvin’s approaches and the points of basic consensus explained, for example, in the CJC. In the Institutes, the statements about ministry come right at the beginning of Book IV, after the general description of the concept of church.44 This may remind us of the CA, which also gives ministry an important place and mentions it

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even before the definition of the church (CA 5). Yet, Calvin goes further and proposes important distinctions, as was shown by the Catholic theologian Alexandre Ganoczy in his studies over 40 years ago.45 Calvin first distinguishes between Christ’s ministry and the church’s ministry. There is a fundamental analogy here; the second can be derived directly from the first, but cannot be confused with it. It is important to note that church ministry is part of the church’s being. It is given by God and no church can be without this ministry. Church ministry is to fulfil God’s mission to this world both through the celebration of Word and Sacrament and also through witness, serving the world and the neighbour. Church ministry also involves church governance. The whole community of the baptized participate in this ministry. Then there is a second distinction: the ministry of the whole church, on the one hand, and the special ministries on the other.46 Calvin devotes extensive passages to these special ministries, the different forms of the one ministry, then developing the understanding of the four ministries, as known from Geneva and later Reformed churches, the exercise of which requires a call from God and the church.47 Among these special ministries, which Calvin does not simply derive from the priesthood (ministry) of all believers, the ministry of proclaiming the Word and celebrating the sacraments is of particular importance.48 This special ministry of pastor has the responsibility for the unity and the order of the congregation. In this question, there is a striking similarity between Calvin’s statements and the recent dialogues between the churches of the Reformation. The ordained ministry is part of the essence of the church; the different forms it takes in the different ministries depend on the different church situations and need to reflect them. Special importance, however, is attributed to the ministry of preaching and administering the sacraments, which is conveyed by ordination and is concerned for the unity of the church.49 Calvin goes even further. In his Commentary on the Letters to the Corinthians, he first brings out the above-mentioned understanding of ministry. In interpreting 1 Cor. 1.2, moreover, Calvin states that – despite some waywardness – there is still a church in Corinth, since the congregation has the ‘true ministry’. By that, he means the ministry of the Apostle Paul.50 For Calvin, the presence of the apostle guarantees that the congregation at Corinth is church. The criterion of true ministry is preaching reconciliation with God in Christ. ‘Thus when a duly ordained minister (minister rite ordinatus) declares from the Gospel that God has been made propitious to us (propitiatum nobis esse Deum) he should be heard as God’s ambassador, carrying out a public duty as God’s representative, and endowed with rightful authority to make this declaration to us’.51 One can certainly note that he is talking about the special apostolic ministry of Paul in Corinth, which

Calvin’s Concept of the Church and Present-Day Ecumenical Challenges  95 Calvin particularly holds up, and which did not exist in the same way in the later church. However, Calvin seems to expand it, as, according to the Institutes, the presence of the true ministry in a broader sense is proof that a congregation is truly church.52 Certainly, Calvin emphasizes that it is not the minister who guarantees the apostolicity of the church; rather, the church itself is in the apostolic succession, because it preaches the true teaching of the apostles.53 Yet, there is an amazing closeness to Roman theology, which then as now can connect the presence of church to the presence of a certain office. Calvin definitely sets himself apart from Roman tradition by questioning its ministries, because they do not preach grace and thus no longer correspond to the true ministry. The special ministry must be in the service of Word and Sacrament and thus only derives its authority from them. However, when the true ministry is present, the congregation is guaranteed that it is church. This understanding has not been adopted in the recent ecumenical conversations of the Reformation churches. Against this background, Calvin links the understanding of ministry with the question of authority and order (disciplina) of the church. Even if they are not to be understood expressly as nota ecclesiae, they still belong to the being of the church. In the Institutes, Calvin devotes several chapters to church discipline, before he even begins to talk about the sacraments. ‘No one is permitted to spurn its [the church] authority, flout its warnings, resist its counsels, or make light of its chastisements… He [the Lord] so esteems the authority of the church that when it is violated he believes his own diminished’.54 In order to justify this, Calvin points to the situation of the first Christian congregations and, in particular, to that in Corinth. It was only Paul’s authority – and his apostolic ministry – that enabled the abuses there to be overcome. Calvin transfers this to the situation of congregations in the sixteenth century, in which particular ministries are responsible for church order. Calvin cannot imagine a church without disciplina (including sanctions and, if necessary, the exclusion of ‘an infamous man’55). If there were not this church discipline, the communion of the congregation would be at risk. Today, Calvin’s conclusions are mostly ascribed to the special situation of the sixteenth century. It is also stressed that the discipline exercised in Geneva led to excesses that can only be deplored in the light of present-day criteria. Here, it is important to distinguish between the educational measures, that are largely only of interest as typical of the time, and affect individual church members, and Calvin’s calling for a church order. In every church, according to Calvin, there needs to be mutual commitment of the faithful and the minister (disciplina), and he links that up to special church ministries. The actual form that church order took at the time may disconcert us

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today, but the basic concern remains. The question of the need of a mutually committing church order is a challenge for Reformation churches still today. Today’s ecumenism is less concerned about the issue of church discipline than the higher question of church structures, the possibility of binding decisions, the exercise of authority and mutual commitment. These are the topics on our agenda today. It is to Calvin’s credit that, at the very beginning of the Reformation, he recognized important issues that remain challenges for Reformation traditions.

Paths to unity Church unity is God’s work and God’s gift to his church. It is not a purely theoretical matter, but calls for tangible realization in local congregations and beyond, in the whole church. Calvin constantly calls on the faithful not to tire in working for this unity. If this happens, the Holy Spirit is at work and enables not only unity in proclamation, but also unity among the faithful in ‘mind and will’, for ‘on this agreement the safety of the Church rests and depends’.56 The first thing to do, then, is to recognize the true reasons for tensions and division. These grounds are often not doctrinally relevant, but are of a different nature, and prevent the harmonious life of the faithful. Today, we would speak of ‘non-doctrinal factors’. Interpersonal tensions are considerable barriers and should not be confused with divergences in doctrine. It often happens that, in spite of disorders, ‘being church’ is not at stake as such. Calvin illustrates this with the aid of the situation of the congregation at Corinth, which was still church, despite having gone astray at many points. In the Institutes, he extends this judgement about Corinth to the whole church of Christ.57 Yet, there are also differences in the essential articles. A doctrine is unacceptable if it abandons Christ as the sole ground of the church.58 The criterion of true witness to Christ is the testimony of scripture. It is the Word of God, and its absolute authority is exclusively founded on the witness of the prophets and apostles, and not in the authority of the church.59 The Roman Church has fallen prey to wrong doctrine because it has moved away from scripture, says Calvin. If there is dissent in doctrine, it must be dealt with in theological dispute. Calvin advocates and cultivates theological dialogue, proposing to the churches that they agree on summaries of doctrine, catechisms and creeds. Such texts are decisive if the church is to remain in truth. Agreement cannot consist in compromise – a danger to which, according to Calvin, Bucer falls prey, time and again.60 The opponent should not be humiliated in discussion and, ultimately,

Calvin’s Concept of the Church and Present-Day Ecumenical Challenges  97 there should not be a victor. Yet, since it is about the truth of Christ, the argument must be carried out with all its possible consequences.61 That was not just theory for Calvin, but also a matter of conviction that he put into practice himself – first within the Reformed Reformation. We can mention many examples here, from talks in Geneva itself, disputes with the pastors of Neuchâtel, the efforts around the refugee congregation in Frankfurt62 or his draft for the first Reformed Synod in Paris (1559), which was the basis of the Confession de foi de La Rochelle.63 Calvin also tried to mediate in the argument between Luther and Zwingli about the Eucharist, a disagreement that particularly saddened him. His ‘Tract on the Lord’s Supper’64 from 1541 is a model of an ‘ecumenical’ document. He takes up the concerns of both the Lutherans and the Zwinglians, and does not elaborate a compromise but a proposed consensus, which he is convinced both parties could agree to. Unfortunately, this text was not translated into Latin until 1545, so Luther was only able to read it in the last few months of his life. Luther is said to have responded positively to Calvin’s proposal.65 This urging of theological dialogue also characterizes Calvin’s attitude towards the Reformation of the Church of England. In his correspondence first with Edward Seymour, the uncle of King Henry VI, and then with Archbishop Cranmer, he asks them to tackle errors more vigorously. This is then only possible if a joint formulation of doctrine is drawn up. To this end, the best scholars of the country must come together, he says. Calvin himself would be ready to cross the ocean if necessary.66 It was Calvin’s concern to enable legitimate diversity among Reformed congregations and churches. He does not endeavour to produce a single creed for all Reformed churches. Every church can and should have the order that suits it.67 However, he does not want to thereby promote congregationalism. He stresses, besides inner fellowship, the ‘outer’ fellowship extending beyond the local congregation.68 The congregation is part of the one Church of Christ, which goes beyond it and is thus committed to this broader church. In his Commentary on the Letter to the Corinthians, he stresses the internal difficulties of the congregation as the consequence of a self-centred congregational life and the disregard for other congregations, asserting that a congregation must not live for itself, but keep fellowship with others for mutual benefit.69 A final point is important for Calvin. Church unity calls for both agreement in preaching the gospel and a harmonious common life within the congregation, with each one putting his or her charismas and gifts at the disposal of all. Calvin does not deal with this only in passing, but makes it the subject of the third section of Chapter 1 of Institutes IV, which explains the question of church unity. Without the real-life witness of all members of the congregation, there can be no church unity.70

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Calvin formulated all this in his age. His insights are, however, extraordinarily relevant today. All Calvin’s above-mentioned approaches have direct equivalences in present-day ecumenical endeavours. The basic questions have remained. In his time, Calvin’s proposals took forms in practice that need to be questioned today. However, it would be appropriate for current ecumenical thinking to engage more with Calvin’s ideas. His understanding of the church and its unity has been unjustifiably neglected.

Notes   1. This topic has often been dealt with in the past. Many studies are 50 years old, however, and stem from a period before modern ecumenical developments. A recent study, albeit one that does not deal with the current ecumenical situation, is that of the French historian Richard Stauffer, ‘Calvin et la catholicité évangélique’, Revue de théologie et de philosophie 115 (1983), 135–56. In recent years, the topic was taken up by L. Vischer, Pia Conspiratio. Calvin on the Unity of Christ’s Church (John Knox Series 12), Geneva 2000, and the Catholic theologian Eva Maria Faber published a short essay in  2008: ‘Calvin und die Einheit der Kirche’, http://www.calvin09.org/. On the same website, see E. Campi, ‘Calvins Kirchenverständnis und seine Bedeutung für die Ökumene’.   2. Quoted from his letter to Cardinal Sadolet (1539), in: J. Calvin, Tracts Relating to the Reformation, vol 1, transl. by Henry Beveridge, Calvin Translation Society, Edinburgh 1844, 59.   3. See R. Stauffer (see note 1), 136.   4. Quoted from J. Cadier (see note 1), 18.   5. Institutio Christianae Religionis (hereafter: Institutes) 5.1.9; see, too, 5.1.10; quoted according to the translation of F. L. Battles, ed. by J. T. McNeill, Kentucky Leiden 1960.   6. Calvin did not sign the CA variata, as long assumed, but most probably the CA invariata, as has been shown by Dutch historian Willem Nijenhuis in: Ecclesia reformata. Studies on the Reformation, Leiden, 1972, 113.   7. All these texts in the (original) French version in: O. Fatio (ed.), Confessions et catéchismes de la foi réformée, Labor et Fides, Geneva 1986 (22003); see Article 28 of the Confession de foi de la Rochelle and Confession helvétique postérieure chap. 17 (ibid., 259) and also the Catéchisme de Genève, where Question 93 expressly mentions the compagnie de fidèles.   8. Thus, in the Commentary on 1 Cor. 1.9 in: J. Calvin, The First Epistle of Paul The Apostle to the Corinthians, ed. D. W. Torrance, transl. by J. W. Fraser, William B Eerdman Co, Grand Rapids 1996, S. 24.   9. Ibid., 216 on 1 Cor. 10.16. 10. Inst. 4.1.2. 11. Inst. 4.1.1. 12. Inst. 4.1.4. 13. Ibid. 14. A pleasing exception is the work of Swiss theologian Gottfried W. Locher, Sign of the Advent. A Study in Protestant Ecclesiology, Academic Press, Fribourg 2004, particularly 69–94. Otherwise, it is striking that this topic is primarily being taken

Calvin’s Concept of the Church and Present-Day Ecumenical Challenges  99 up by Catholic theologians; e.g. A. Ganoczy, Calvin, théologien de l’Eglise et du ministère (Unam sanctam 48), Paris 1964 or E. M. Faber, ‘Une interdépendance comme don et comme mission. A propos de la conception calvinienne de l’Eglise’, in: M. E. Hirzel and M. Sallmann (eds), Calvin et le calvinisme. Cinq siècles d’influences sur l’Eglise et la société, Labor et Fides, Geneva 2008, 191–221. Most recent studies by Reformed theologians mention the topic of church, but ecclesiology seems to be a secondary issue. See here, for example, the good introduction by M. Vial, Jean Calvin. Introduction à sa pensée théologique, Labor et Fides, Geneva 2008. The topic does not appear in the work of D. Crouzet, Jean Calvin, Paris 2000. 15. Also Lukas Vischer’s question to today’s Reformed churches, in: Pia Conspiratio (see note 1), 50. 16. See A. Ganoczy (see note 14), 183–222. 17. I take the liberty of referring to my own book here: Kirchengemeinschaft. Ökumenische Fortschritte und methodologische Konsequenzen, Lit Verlag, Münster 2003. Chapter 7 is devoted to the meaning of the concept of communio in present-day ecumenism; see 289–330. 18. Inst. 4 1.10 referring to Eph. 5.27. 19. Inst. 4 1.2; see also Questions 93–98 in the Geneva Catechism. 20. Inst. 4 2.5. 21. Inst. 4 2.2. 22. Inst. 4 2.11. 23. Inst. 4 1.2. 24. E.g. K. Blaser in his chapter on Calvin’s ecclesiology in: Signe et instrument. Approche protestante de l’Eglise, Editions Universitaires, Fribourg 2000, 32–45. 25. Inst. 4 1.7. 26. See G. W. Locher, Signs of Advent (see note 14), 143f. 27. See the whole second chapter of the Fourth Book of the Institutes. 28. Inst. 4 1.8. 29. Commentary on 2 Cor. 1.1, 483. English edition: J. Calvin, ‘The Second Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians and the Epistles to Timothy, Titus and Philemon’, transl. by T. A. Smail, Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries, ed. by D. W. Torrance and T. F. Torrance, William B Eerdman Co, Grand Rapids, MI 1996. 30. Ibid. 1 Cor. 1.2, 17. 31. Inst. 5 1.13. 32. Inst. 5 1.22. 33. Inst. 5 1.9. 34. Inst. 5 2.4. 35. Inst. 4 14.1-6 u. 4 27.1. 36. Inst. 4 1.12. 37. Ibid. 38. Ibid. 39. Inst 4 2.1. 40. ‘Articulus stantis et (vel) cadentis ecclesiae’, in: Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart: Handwörterbuch für Theologie und Religionswissenschaft4, vol. 1, UTB, Stuttgart 1998, 799. 41. The Church of Jesus Christ. The Contribution of the Reformation towards Ecumenical Dialogue on Church Unity, ed. W. Hüffmeier, 1995. http://www.leuenberg.net/ daten/File/Upload/doc-2180-1.pdf. 42. Ibid. 1 2.2 and 1 2.4.

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43. Ibid. 3 1.2-4. 44. Inst. 4 3. 45. A. Ganoczy (see note 14). Also A. Ganoczy, Calvin. Genèse et évolution de sa vocation réformatrice, Steiner Franz, Wiesbaden 1966. 46. Inst. 4 4.9. 47. Inst. 4 3.4, 8, 11. 48. Inst. 4 3.4-6. Calvin refers to Eph. 4.11. Ganoczy (see note 14) clarifies this structure in the whole second part, 141–402. 49. Church of Jesus Christ (see note 41), 2 5.1. 50. Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians, 17f. 51. On 2 Cor. 5.18 ibid., 77f. 52. Inst. 4 1.9. 53. Inst. 4 2.3. 54. Inst. 4 1.10. 55. Inst. 4 1.15. 56. Commentary on 1 Cor. 1.10, 25. 57. Inst. 4 2.1; see also 4 1.13. 58. See commentary on 1 Cor. 3.11, 73f. 59. Inst. 1 7.1-2. 60. In his essay: Pia Conspiratio (see note 1), Lukas Vischer quotes a letter by Calvin to Martin Bucer, 40 note 13. 61. This becomes particularly clear in the different letters by Calvin, in which he attempts to restore unity in the refugee congregation in Frankfurt. 62. I refer here to the articles mentioned above by L. Vischer, R. Stauffer and, before them, O. Weber, G. W. Locher or J. Cadier (see note 1), which refer to many attempts by Calvin to preserve or restore unity within the Reformed tradition. 63. English translation: Ph. Schaff, Creeds of Christendom, vol. III, Grand Rapids, MI 41977, 356–82. 64. CO 5, 429–460. 65. See here R. Stauffer, Calvin et la catholicité évangélique (see note 1), 141ff. 66. See ibid., 146f. 67. See commentary on 1 Cor. 11.2, 227f. 68. Inst. 4 1.19. 69. Commentary on 1 Cor. 14.36, 307f. 70. Inst. 4 1.3.

Chapter 10

The World Alliance of Reformed Churches Today and the John Calvin Legacy Setri Nyomi Out of the many things one could do to honour John Calvin, celebrating his birthday 500  years later seems to be a thing he himself would have hated. Here is a person who did not want to draw attention to himself, and even desired that at his death, he would be buried in an unmarked grave. How dare we celebrate his 500th birthday anniversary? We dare to do so because of yet another value that John Calvin articulated – ‘Soli Deo gloria’. As we look back at the ways in which the Reformed family has been impacted, we can lift up some windows into Calvin’s work that inspires us for faithful life in our churches in the twenty-first century. In this case, what we are lifting up is not the person of Calvin, but his legacies that inspire us to be better prophetic witnesses to God. And when we have done that, we should step back and proclaim, ‘only to God be the glory’. In this reflection, I will be tracing a couple of themes of John Calvin, and how they are evident in the life of the largest global body that carries out the tradition that emerged from the work of Calvin and other Reformers, such as Zwingli, Bullinger, John Knox and Marie Dentiere. I will focus on two such themes: (1) social justice and (2) Christian unity.

Social justice The person who has written the most on John Calvin’s views on social justice is André Bieler. His volume, La pensée économique et sociale de Calvin, was first published in 1961. It was recently reprinted under WARC sponsorship a few weeks ago. In 2005, the WARC published the English translation. In this book, André Bieler brought out many examples of how Calvin’s vision for social transformation is relevant for our times today. Once a person has read Bieler’s book, there will be little doubt that sociologists, such as Max Weber, were very wrong when they saw John Calvin as the father of

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capitalism. Bieler quotes from several works of Calvin to bring home this point. Bieler demonstrates how Calvin expresses opposition to all forms of social oppression resulting from money. He quotes a lengthy section of Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries to prove his point.1 Quoting from Calvin’s Institutes (2 8.45), Bieler makes an even stronger point about the rich oppressing the poor. It is worth reproducing this passage here: Calvin writes: All those arts whereby we acquire the possessions and money at the expense of our neighbours are to be considered as thefts. Although those who behave in this way often win their case before the judge, yet God upholds them to be none other than thieves. For he sees the intricate deceptions with which crafty people set out to snare those of simpler mind; he sees the rigour of the exactions which the rich impose on the poor to crush them.2

These words of Calvin, written more than four centuries ago, resonate with life in the twenty-first century. In the consultations, biblical and theological reflections, as well as economic analyses carried out by the World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC), the conclusion began emerging after the Seoul General Council in 1989. The question was not only how individuals should deal responsibly with money, but also how money becomes a source of oppression. Today, it is the global economic systems and practices that have more sophisticated forms of effects, as Calvin saw them. André Bieler attributed Calvin’s establishment of the fourth order of church government, deacons, to his disgust in the disparity between the rich and the poor. Calvin saw in this disparity a scandal, which is ‘unworthy of a church reformed by the Word of God’.3 Calvin advocated for just wages for all. This was also part of his commitment to justice. Several times, he called for increased wages, especially for teachers. In André Bieler’s analysis, John Calvin’s advocacy for more just wages went far deeper than that of most theologians and other leaders of his day. This was not just a means of getting wages to match the high cost of living. It had much more to do with a spiritual commitment. André Bieler writes: While in debates relating to just prices and wages most theologians seek to fix a standard based on hypothetical natural law, Calvin located the problem precisely in its spiritual perspective by showing that wages can only be understood on the basis of God’s free gift of remuneration, providing forgiveness and life to everyone.4

It is a shame that almost 500  years later this message has not been fully integrated in what the church engages in, in challenging unjust structures.



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Much of justice in the economy relates to banking and finance. Here, John Calvin’s actions are sometimes confusing. On the one hand, he was the first church leader to give his blessing to the practice of lending with interest. While lending with interest was practised widely, often Christian bankers did so in a heavy, guilt-ridden spirit. Calvin’s stand made it possible for lenders to do so without guilt. This may be puzzling to many people. However, Calvin’s actions may also be seen as seeking justice for all. In addition to guaranteeing fairness to banking and lending systems, it enabled Calvin to establish a system which ensured that interest rates were reasonable. There were upper limits to how much interest could be charged. He advocated strict regulation of how banks could operate – especially how much interest they put on loans.5 In that sense, he was still operating within the bounds of seeking justice for all. Calvin was also very interested in the issues of environmental protection. On 20 December 1555, John Calvin preached a sermon on Deut. 20.16-20. He focused on the 19th verse, which reads: ‘If you besiege a town for a long time, making war against it in order to take it, you must not destroy its trees by wielding an axe against them. Although you may take food from them, you must not cut them down. Are trees in the field human beings that they should come under siege from you?’ A few sentences from this sixteenthcentury sermon illustrate how concern for ecology was in John Calvin’s understanding of living faithful Christian lives. Calvin proclaimed, ‘When we find ourselves driven by wickedness or some evil thoughts to the point of destroying trees, houses and other such things, we have to control ourselves and reflect: Who are we waging war against? Not against creatures, but against the one whose goodness is mirrored here. Not against one man only, but against each and everyone, ourselves included’. John Calvin continued elsewhere in the same sermon. Speaking of cutting down trees, he asserted: ‘Today, such cruelty is even greater among those who call themselves Christians … For today they go about scorching and burning the land which is worse than cutting throats … Human beings have distanced themselves from God and become brutish as a result’. This is John Calvin, 453 years ago – not a twenty-first-century ecological activist. In his conclusion, Calvin notes, ‘Let us therefore take care not to uproot any fruit trees, but since the Word of God is the seed of life, let us endeavour to scatter it widely, so that it can put down strong roots and produce a tree that is not unfruitful, but one that produces much fruit’. ‘God has chosen us for His people and here God shows us a justice that must permeate our whole lives’.6 Calvin’s sermons were filled with references to societal transformation. His attention to refugees in Geneva was remarkable. His views went beyond simply having pity on those who were poor and displaced, to a real commitment to ordering society so that marginalization could be diminished.

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His reading and proclaiming of scripture had a definite slant towards transforming the society in which he lived. While how Calvin did it, and how both his struggles as well as his achievements with the authorities of Geneva may be different from approaches in the twenty-first century, there is so much of what he did that inspires our actions today. WARC, as the body that unites in common witness churches that trace their historical and theological heritage to Calvin, Zwingli, Bullinger and others, could not simply limit itself to a shallow reading of the scriptures, which stops at positioning the church simply as a channel of charity, while knowingly or unknowingly supporting the oppressive systems that provide the atmosphere for the poor to increase. Thus, when WARC engages in the serious theological analysis that has led to covenanting for justice in the economy and the earth, it does so very much because it is remaining faithful to the legacy of John Calvin. In all these areas, WARC continues a tradition in which our reading of scripture inspires us to be God’s instruments of transformation in society. The stances we have taken for justice have come from an inspiration to be faithful to God. In particular, our work of covenanting for justice in the economy and the earth, as well as in gender justice, is consistent with the commitments of John Calvin’s thoughts. In fact, WARC brings what Calvin clearly stood for, into relevance in the twenty-first century. We see this even more clearly in the events of the last several months of the world falling into a financial crisis. Many have pointed to what is happening as a consequence of human greed unchecked. This led to a system in which, without proper regulations, the global economic system was allowed to enrich a few and impoverish millions. It was a system that did not pay enough attention to safety nets that would ensure the gifts of God benefit all people. One simply has to look at the bonuses that chief executive officers of large multinational companies and financial institutions gave themselves, while many were starving in their own backyard. Calvin was, in this sense, a prophet whose thoughts are very relevant 500 years beyond his time. It is against this background that WARC developed the Accra Confession. Its message is as difficult to hear in some contexts as Calvin’s message in the 1540s on financial systems in Geneva. I therefore end this part of discussing Calvin’s thoughts on social justice by reproducing a few verses of the Accra Confession that I believe are consistent with Calvin’s thoughts: We believe in God, Creator and Sustainer of all life, who calls us as partners in the creation and redemption of the world. We live under the promise that Jesus Christ came so that all might have life in fullness (Jn 10.10). Guided and upheld by the Holy Spirit we open ourselves to the reality of our world.



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We believe that God is sovereign over all creation. “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof ” (Ps 24.1). Therefore, we reject the current world economic order imposed by global neoliberal capitalism and any other economic system, including absolute planned economies, which defy God’s covenant by excluding the poor, the vulnerable and the whole of creation from the fullness of life. We reject any claim of economic, political and military empire which subverts God’s sovereignty over life and acts contrary to God’s just rule. We believe that God has made a covenant with all of creation (Gen 9.8-12). God has brought into being an earth community based on the vision of justice and peace. The covenant is a gift of grace that is not for sale in the market place (Is 55.1). It is an economy of grace for the household of all of creation. Jesus shows that this is an inclusive covenant in which the poor and marginalized are preferential partners and calls us to put justice for the “least of these” (Mt 25.40) at the centre of the community of life. All creation is blessed and included in this covenant (Hos 2.18ff). Therefore we reject the culture of rampant consumerism and the competitive greed and selfishness of the neoliberal global market system or any other system which claims there is no alternative. We believe that any economy of the household of life given to us by God’s covenant to sustain life is accountable to God. We believe the economy exists to serve the dignity and wellbeing of people in community, within the bounds of the sustainability of creation. We believe that human beings are called to choose God over Mammon and that confessing our faith is an act of obedience. Therefore we reject the unregulated accumulation of wealth and limitless growth that has already cost the lives of millions and destroyed much of God’s creation. We believe that God is a God of justice. In a world of corruption, exploitation and greed, God is in a special way the God of the destitute, the poor, the exploited, the wronged and the abused (Ps 146.7-9). God calls for just relationships with all creation. Therefore we reject any ideology or economic regime that puts profits before people, does not care for all creation and privatizes those gifts of God meant for all. We reject any teaching which justifies those who support, or fail to resist, such an ideology in the name of the gospel.

Christian unity We now turn our attention to Calvin’s commitment to Christian unity. Calvin tried to reach out to Reformation leaders known to him. While he never met face-to-face with most of them, he had a vigorous corres­ pondence with some. One of the letters that WARC have often quoted from is the 1552 letter he wrote to Archbishop Thomas Cranmer of England, in which he indicated that he would cross ten seas to promote

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Christian unity. In the preparatory resource material for WARC’s 24th General Council, WARC quoted from this letter as a means of affirming WARC’s commitment to Christian unity. Calvin was responding to a meeting of Reformation leaders to confess their common mind on central Christian doctrines proposed by Thomas Cranmer, the first Protestant Archbishop of Canterbury. To Calvin, the divisions in the church of his day, destroying human fellowship and Christian relationship, were among the chief evils of that time.7 In the Commentary on the Epistle to the Ephesians 4.5, Calvin writes: Each time we read the word “one”, let us be reminded that it is used emphatically. Christ cannot be divided. Faith cannot be rent. There are not various baptisms but one, which is common to all. God cannot be torn into different parts. It cannot but be our duty to cherish holy unity, which is bound by so many ties. Faith and baptism, and God the Father and Christ, ought to unite us, so as almost to become one human being.8

In the Commentary on John 17.21, Calvin goes even further: That all may be one. He again lays down the end of our happiness as consisting in unity, and justly; for the ruin of the human race is, that, having been alienated from God, it is also broken and scattered in itself. The restoration of it, therefore on the contrary, consists in its being properly united in one body, as Paul declares the perfection of the Church to consist in believers being joined in one spirit, and says that apostles, prophets, evangelists, and pastors, were given, that they might edify and restore the body of Christ, till it came to the unity of faith; and therefore he exhorts believers to grow into Christ, who is the head, from whom the whole body being joined together, and connected by every bond of supply, according to the operation in the measure of every part, makes increase of it to edification. Wherefore if Christ speaks about unity, let us remember how basely and shockingly, when separated from Him, the world is scattered; and next, let us learn that the commencement of a blessed life is, that we be governed, and that we all live, by the Spirit of Christ alone.9

Today’s division in the church is a scandal. Viewed against the background of Calvin’s words, it is as if we think Christ is divided into tribes, classes, ideologies, ignoring the vision of the perfection of the one church. In Africa, because of the nature of missionary work, we have come to inherit tribal churches in many countries. Just by mentioning the name of your denomination, people can tell which tribe you belong to. I have just returned from South Africa where there is still a struggle to move beyond the legacy of apartheid and divisions in the churches along racial lines, and to commit to genuine Christian unity that values justice for all.



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This phenomenon is not limited to Africa. Migratory patterns from Europe to the Americas in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries have exported similar divisions. In the Reformed family alone, one can spot the descendants of the Scottish, German, Dutch, etc., by whether they belong to the Presbyterian churches, or any of the Reformed churches. It was not too long ago that worship was conducted in these languages. It becomes compounded when this analysis is done to include the entire Christian family. The emergence of United and Uniting churches in the world today constitutes a refreshing attempt to reverse this fragmentation. While in some cases these were occasioned by secular authority or royal decrees, this phenomenon is nevertheless an important development in Christian unity. We have to make every effort to overcome Christian disunity. WARC is very committed to this. Its programmes of bilateral theological dialogues with other church families constitute one expression of such a commitment. Another expression of this commitment is the work we do in fostering mission in unity through our mission project. Its current journey towards unity with the Reformed Ecumenical Council is yet another expression of this. Calvin believed that one of the ways of fostering unity in the church was through the frequent celebration of the Eucharist. In fact, he wanted the Eucharist as the visible sign of Christ’s presence; it ‘could have been administered most becomingly if it were set before the church often, and at least once a week’.10 In this particular desire, the authorities of Geneva, who thought such frequent celebration would make the church feel too closely linked with Roman Catholic practices, overruled him. In the book, Legacy of John Calvin, we raise the question, ‘Can the frequency of celebrating the Holy Communion contribute to a stronger feeling of unity among Reformed churches?’11 Some of us are convinced it can. Here again, WARC’s deliberations on spiritual renewal brings this point into relevance for the twentyfirst century. On the Eucharist, we noted: This is an aspect of our worship that can most powerfully equip us to resist, celebrate and feel for others in the midst of everything we face. How can we remember Jesus at the table, on that night, with those disciples and not be inspired to seek fullness of life? Far from allowing communion to divide us, even within the Reformed tradition, we see it calling us into a passionate, generous and joyful way of life together.12

Christian unity is not only when Presbyterians, Disciples of Christ, Anglicans, Lutherans, Methodists and others come together to form an organic union. It is also expressed profoundly when the gifts of all God’s people, women and men, young and old, regardless of race or any other form of human division, can be used and appreciated fully in all aspects of church life. A former president of WARC, Jane Dempsey Douglass,

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has helped us to recapture Calvin’s vision in this area, regarding the gifts of women. Jane Dempsey Douglass states that Calvin emphasized that every single human being is made in God’s image. It is out of this conviction that all humankind is made in God’s image, that he interprets 1 Cor. 11.7. In this interpretation, Calvin states that women’s subordinate role is not acceptable in the areas of human order, in the political order or in marriage (CO 49, 472–5). To Calvin, women, like men, are fully made in God’s image and regenerated in the Holy Spirit. At the end of time in the Kingdom of God, there will be neither feminine nor masculine, nor class distinctions between the rich and the poor (CO 46, 728 cf. CO XXIII, 27).13 The commitment of WARC to gender justice is therefore very consistent with Calvin’s vision. While he may not have applied it with vigour to women’s ordination, today we stand on this legacy, among others, in challenging all churches to recognize the gifts of God given to all, and affirm the call of all, women and men, to the ordained ministry. As a product of his time, Calvin would not have applied much of what he advocated for in Christian unity to a relationship with the Roman Catholic Church or have any thoughts that the papacy could be part of this vision. However, this is where, today, Christians in the world can stand on the slogan ecclesia reformata sed semper reformanda to go far beyond what John Calvin envisaged. The task of Christian unity is an urgent one; even in the twenty-first century we have new forms of division – liberal and conservative, Christian right and Christian left, fundamentalists, etc., pulling the Church of Jesus Christ in all kinds of directions. This is a scandal that must be overcome. When WARC sets out to heal divisions among its member churches, or seeks to foster mission in unity or engage in dialogue with other Christian families, it does so in the full conviction that this is the calling of God on the church. We do so, thankful that this understanding has been in the Reformed family for a long time and is articulated in the vision of John Calvin. The saying, ‘to be Reformed is to be ecumenical’ is therefore consistent with the vision of John Calvin.

Conclusion Through these few windows into the works of John Calvin and the commitments of WARC, we are able to demonstrate that Calvin’s legacy has impacted the world for good and continues to do so. The areas of social justice and Christian unity are only two of the spheres in which the impact can be demonstrated.



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Notes   1. André Bieler La pensée économique et sociale de Calvin; Librairie de I’ Université, Geneva, 1959. 300.   2. Bieler, p. 301.   3. Bieler, p. 135.   4. Bieler, p. 375.   5. Bieler, p. 362ff.   6. The Legacy of John Calvin, Published by WARC and the John Knox International Reformed Center, pp. 60–61. http://warc.jalb.de/warcajsp/news_file/The_Legacy_ of_John_Calvin.pdf   7. Doug Chial, Crossing Ten Seas: Studies on the Theme: That all may have life in fullness (John10:10), p. 2. http://www.warc.ch/24gc/cts.pdf   8. Commentary on the Epistle to the Ephesians 4.5, Calvini Opera (CO) LI, 191, reproduced in the Legacy of John Calvin, p. 12.   9. Commentary on the Gospel According to John 17.21, Calvini Opera (CO) XLVII, 387, reproduced in the Legacy of John Calvin, p. 13. 10. Inst. 4 17.43. 11. Legacy of John Calvin, p. 21. 12. Accra 2004: Proceedings of the 24th General Council of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, p. 172. 13. These are all taken from the Legacy of John Calvin, p. 21, based on the work of Jane Dempsey Douglass, ‘Ce qui demeure vivant dans le doctrine calvienne’, an article in La Réforme: Un Ferment dans l’Eglise Universelle, edited by Henry Mottu (Labor et Fides), pp. 72–3.

Chapter 11

Not without the World Council of Churches: A Contribution to the History of the Catholic–Reformed International Bilateral Dialogue Odair Pedroso Mateus On Cardinal Sadoleto, Calvin and Reformed ecumenicity In March 1539, now that the Frenchmen Calvin and Farel have been banned from Geneva for claiming the right to excommunicate unworthy Genevans, James Cardinal Sadoleto, who has been bishop of Carpentras, France, for more than 20  years, addresses a letter ‘to his dearly beloved brethren, the magistrates, senate, and citizens of Geneva’. Cardinal Sadoleto builds on the fear of the hereafter a soteriological appeal to unitatis redintegratio. Here is an elementary form of the Cardinal’s argumentation:1 Those who put their faith and hope in Christ, he writes, do it in order to obtain ‘salvation for themselves and their souls’ (6). We must use every effort to retain this possession (9). We obtain the eternal salvation of our souls ‘by faith alone in God and in Jesus Christ’ (10). However, this saving faith is not just ‘a mere credulity and confidence in God’ (9), which eliminates ‘charity and the other duties of a Christian mind’ (9). In true faith, ‘love is essentially comprehended as the chief and primary cause of our salvation’ (10). Sadoleto goes on to hold that it is the church that has ‘regenerated us to God in Christ’ and also taught us ‘by what way we must tend towards heaven’ (10–11). We do not claim for ourselves ‘anything beyond the opinion and authority of the Church’ (11). We should guard ourselves from ‘the loss and perdition of our souls’ (12), induced by the ‘dreadful sin of preposterous and false religion’ (13). The more appropriate to our salvation and more pleasing to God is to believe and follow ‘what the Catholic Church throughout the whole world, now for more than fifteen hundred years (…) approves with general consent’ (14). The way to obtain the favour of the Almighty God is to agree ‘with the whole Church, and faithfully observe her decrees, and laws, and sacraments’ (15) because the church ‘errs not’ (18)



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since the Holy Spirit ‘constantly guides her public and universal decrees and Councils’ (18). The Roman Cardinal contends ad hominem. He suggests that the Reformers are moved by ambition for personal power and prestige. He refers to them as ‘enemies of Christian unity’ (4) who cast ‘the wicked seeds of discord’ (5). They are ‘inventors of novelty’ who seek dissension (15–16). As a result of their action, many sects have torn the church. These sects do not agree with them and disagree with each other, which is ‘a manifest indication of falsehood’, for ‘truth is always one, while falsehood is varied and multiform’ (19). The tearing of the spouse of Christ in pieces is ‘the proper work of Satan’ (20). Love was given to us that ‘we might all confess the Lord with one head and mouth’ (20). I beg and exhort you, concludes Sadoleto, ‘that you would be pleased to return to concord with us’ (21). It is to none other than Calvin, the banned, that the Geneva authorities appeal for a response to Sadoleto’s letter. The ‘Reply by Calvin to Cardinal Sadolet’s Letter’2 is an abrégé of fundamental sixteenth-century Reformation insights. Its two main sections deal, respectively, with faith (41–49) and order (49–56) or, in Calvin’s language, with ‘a purer teaching of the gospel’ and ‘a better form of Church’ (33). Following an initial set of paragraphs in which he argues for the integrity of the Reformers’ ministry and against Sadoleto’s definition of the church – which refers to the Holy Spirit in the church without referring to the Word of God – Calvin contends that the present teaching and practice of the gospel in the Latin Church is neither sanctioned by scriptures nor in agreement with the church of the Greek and Latin Fathers. The issues here are justification, good works, the Lord’s Supper, confession, the intercession of the saints and purgatory. In attacking your kingdom, he writes, ‘we are armed not only with the energy of the Divine Word, but with the aid of the Holy Fathers also’ (48). He then goes on from faith to order. The issue here is the perversion of the ministerial and pastoral office, a perversion well illustrated by the Roman pontiff and the ‘pseudo-bishops’. We admit that ecclesiastical pastors are to be heard like Christ, he writes, ‘but they must be pastors who execute the office entrusted to them’. Calvin’s case for the gospel preached in its purity and the sacrament administered according to the gospel within a community ordered under the Word of God is inseparable from his loyalty to the church of fathers and from his rather inclusive concern for the visible unity of the church universal. My conscience told me, one of his characters says to God in the letter, ‘how strong the zeal was with which I burned for this unity of thy Church, provided thy truth were made the bond of concord’ (60). Towards the end of his reply, Calvin writes that the most serious charge of all made by Sadoleto is ‘that we have attempted to dismember the Spouse

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of Christ’. He admits that ‘on the revival of the gospel, great disputes arose, where all was quietness before’ (67). But this is not to be imputed to the Reformers. Our Reformers offered ‘to render an account of their doctrine’, he writes with a thought for the Augsburg Confession. If overcome in argument, he goes on to argue, ‘they decline not to submit’. And he asks: ‘to whom, then, is it owing that the Church enjoys not perfect peace, and the light of truth?’ (68) Calvin concludes by praying that Sadoleto perceives that ‘the only true bond of Ecclesiastical unity would exist if Christ the Lord who hath reconciled us with God the Father, were to gather us out of our present dispersion into the fellowship of his body’ (68). This brings us to the contemporary practice of Reformed ecumenicity. The Scottish theologian William Blaikie, one of the founders of the World Presbyterian Alliance in 1875, opens the first historical narrative about the future World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) by outlining the history of the ideal of a World Reformed Alliance.3 This idea, he writes in the first line of his text, ‘had a prominent place in the minds of the Reformers’. Blaikie mentions Théodore de Bèze’s Conference at the 1561 Colloquy of Poissy, then quotes the famous 1552 letter of Calvin to the Anglican Archbishop Cranmer on crossing ten seas to achieve Christian unity, and ends up in a nineteenth-century Scottish church law reference to a ‘General Council of Protestants’. For at least 50 years, the new Presbyterian Alliance pursued the idea of a confession broad enough to receive previous Reformed confessions or the idea of a harmony of confessions as a way of encouraging its member churches to move from the abnormal age of Euro-American confessionalism and denominationalism back to the more catholic ecumenical agenda of the Reformation, which later on the so-called ‘younger churches’ from the global South would claim without naming. Making the case for ‘The Consensus of the Reformed Confessions’ at the first General Council of the Presbyterian Alliance, in 1877, the world citizen and ‘Catholic Reformed’ Philip Schaff, another of the Alliance’s pioneers, states that ‘a confession which would intensify Presbyterianism an loosen the ties which unite us to the other branches of Christ’s kingdom I would regard as a calamity (…) We want a declaration of union, not a platform of disunion’. Now a question: Would it be possible to draw a theological–ecumenical line threading the Calvinian inclusive concern for the unity of the church (which leaves little or no room for confessionalism or denominationalism), the pan-Protestant vision of the Reformed Alliance pioneers and the post-denominational way in which WARC understood itself and its role in the ecumenical movement following the establishment of the World Council of Churches (WCC) in 1948? This chapter undertakes a case study on institutional ecumenical decision making in order to test the ground for a substantiated answer.



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It deals with the WARC deliberations leading to the decision to engage or not in bilateral ecumenical dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church in the years following the Second Vatican Council.

WARC observes Vatican II (1961–1965) The theological dialogue between the Roman Catholic Church and WARC traces its origins to the Third Assembly of the WCC, held in New Delhi, India, from 19 November to 5 December 1961. During that meeting, the Roman Catholic observers and the WARC General Secretary raise for the first time the possibility that the Vatican Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity invites WARC to send three delegated observers to the Second Vatican Council, due to open in Rome in October 1962.4 The issue is discussed once again in Geneva, April 1962, in a meeting of representatives of world confessional families.5 At that meeting, most of the confessional families marked by the Reformation express their desire to be invited to send observers to Vatican II.6 Still in 1962, the WARC Executive Committee meeting, held in Ibadan, Nigeria, confirms the decision, previously taken by its officers, to appoint three observers to Vatican II – one from continental Europe, one from Britain and one from North America.7 It also clarifies, especially for a constituency that includes very different, if not contradictory views on the Church of Rome, the nature of this decision. The primary purpose of sending observers is ‘to have direct information about the work of the Second Vatican Council’. The WARC observers ‘will not have authority to speak officially for the Alliance or its member churches or to engage in any negotiations on behalf of the Alliance’. They may informally ‘give explanations of Reformed doctrine and practice as it may bear upon the questions being discussed in the Council’. During the Roman Catholic Council, the WARC observers ‘will report to the Churches exclusively through the officers and Executive Committee of the Alliance’.8 The reports on the first session of Vatican II produced by the observers underline the positive value of having WARC observers attending the Roman Catholic Council. For Hébert Roux, the observers were not treated as passive spectators, but as true witnesses. It is essential that throughout Vatican II, the Alliance should continue ‘to maintain with the maximum of continuity the delegation of three Observers accorded to it’. Their role would be facilitated and enriched by the nomination of theological experts who could, at their request, stay in Rome for brief periods.9 Another observer, D. W. D. Shaw, notes that the observer has an informative role to play, ‘not only among his own people, but among Roman Catholics as well’.10

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The three WARC observers are also unanimous in their recognition of the prominent ecumenical role played by Pope John XXIII and his newly appointed Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity during the first session of the Council. According to James H. Nichols, Roman Catholic ecumenism in any developed sense was, before Vatican II, ‘a small minority concern’. The ‘enormous and sudden’ increase of the influence of ecumenical ideas throughout the Roman Catholic Church resulted from ‘the direct intervention of the Pope which gave the ecumenists their direct influence in the machinery of the Council’.11 The unprecedented ecumenical situation created both by the remarkable achievements of the WCC 1961 Assembly and by the 1962 and 1963 sessions of Vatican II compels the Reformed Alliance, gathering in Frankfurt, Germany, for its 1964 General Council, to reflect extensively on WARC’s role in the ecumenical movement in general and on Reformed–Roman Catholic relations in particular. As a result, the WARC General Council adopts several documents with direct bearing on its ecumenical engagement in general and on its relations with the Roman Catholic Church in particular. One of them, the Resolution on Observers to Second Vatican Council, opens on an optimistic note by making reference to the Ibadan 1962 decision of responding positively to the Vatican invitation to send observers to the Council. Now that there have been two sessions of the Vatican Council, ‘it is sometimes difficult to recall the hesitations in the summer of 1962 that accompanied those actions’. In that meeting, the WARC Executive Committee ‘did not and could not know the depth and breadth of the new ecumenical atmosphere that would be produced by the Vatican Council’. After two sessions of the Council, ‘it is now possible (…) to report (…) that its 1962 decisions are proved to have been right and useful’. In taking them, the WARC leadership acted ‘as a servant of its member Churches and as a service to the Roman Catholic Church’.12

To be or not to be in dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church (1965–1968) Early in  1968, two years after the last session of Vatican II, the Roman Catholic Church has already started bilateral theological dialogues with different confessional families marked by the Reformation, which had sent observers to Vatican II. The Anglican–Roman Catholic Joint Preparatory Commission has just held its third meeting and, on future recommendation of the 1968 Lambeth Conference, a Permanent Joint Commission may soon be set up. The Catholic–Methodist Joint Commission has had an exploratory meeting, and will meet again late in August to discuss the



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eucharist and authority in the church. After the 1965 and 1966 meetings of the Joint Roman Catholic/Lutheran Working Group, a study commission on ‘The Gospel and the Church’ has met in 1967 and will meet in September 1968. The joint working group between the Roman Catholic Church and the WCC has been meeting since 1965 and has already issued two reports, including a study on catholicity and apostolicity. What about the Reformed–Catholic international dialogue? WARC’s very positive appraisal of Catholic–Reformed relations does not mean, though, that it is willing to start a bilateral dialogue with the Church of Rome. Reporting to the WARC Executive Committee meeting in Baguio, Philippines, in 1965, the General Secretary, Marcel Pradervand, writes that ‘we do not believe it to be the task of the Alliance at this time to enter into conversation at the world level with our Roman Catholic brethren’.13 This view is confirmed by the WARC Executive Committee, which states in the same meeting that ‘it is the consensus of the Executive Committee that the World Alliance of Reformed Churches initiate no separate theological dialogue or theological discussions with the Vatican at this time…’.14 The 1966 Strasbourg meeting of the WARC Executive Committee reaffirms this decision and appoints an ad hoc committee to confer with the WCC secretariat ‘on how the Alliance may best cooperate with the WCC in dialogue with Rome’, and to consult with the Lutheran World Federation ‘concerning joint participation, and with other families of churches that may become involved in the Roman Catholic dialogue…’.15 The wind will soon begin to change. To 1965 and 1966 WARC decisions rejecting a bilateral dialogue in favour of the new WCC–Vatican dialogue, the outgoing WCC General Secretary, Visser ‘t Hooft, responds that the WCC will not be able ‘to deal with any specific questions which have arisen between the R.C. Church and the Reformed Churches’, and that national dialogue between the Reformed and the Catholics is underway ‘in Holland, USA, Switzerland, etc.’. In the course of an informal encounter with the WARC General Secretary, Visser ‘t Hooft reiterates his view and adds that ‘the WCC does not wish to convey the impression that member churches of the WCC embarking on direct dialogue with the R.C. Church have become “bad” members of the WCC’.16 A consultation between WARC and WCC representatives late in 196617 affirms once again the WARC policy on no separate dialogue with Rome, adding that the Alliance ‘should reaffirm its willingness to enter into dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church in the future, should particular, crucial, and urgent theological questions arise visà-vis the Roman Catholic Church’. It is also recommended that WARC and the Lutheran World Federation should explore ‘what possible co-operation in the common task of the ecumenical movement could be undertaken by the two bodies’.18

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During 1967, the new WCC General Secretary, the American Presbyterian theologian Eugene Carson Blake, and the equally Reformed Director of the WCC Commission on Faith and Order, the Swiss Lukas Vischer, come to the conclusion that WARC’s policy of no separate dialogue with Rome ought to be reviewed.19 Referring to a conversation with Lukas Vischer in January 1968, WARC’s theological Secretary Richmond Smith notes that ‘the reality of the present ecumenical context is such that the original Alliance motive not to proliferate bilateral dialogue in order to strengthen the WCC position may now paradoxically be best served by entering the field in such a way that the WCC, along with the Confessional Families of Churches, may be able to co-ordinate effectively the total work of dialogue with the RC Church on the international level’. The moderator of WARC’s Department of Theology, James McCord, writes to Richmond Smith that ‘both Dr. Blake and Dr. Vischer feel that the time has come for a fresh appraisal of our decision’. And he goes on: ‘let me add that I agree with them’.20 McCord agrees with the German Calvin scholar Wilhelm Niesel, WARC’s president,21 that ‘this is not a matter to be approached hurriedly’ and that a full discussion should take place during the next WARC Executive Committee, to take place in Cluj, Romania, at the end of June 1968. For McCord, ‘if we do begin conversations, it is imperative that we engage the cooperation of our best Reformed theologians. (…) I should hope that the topic or theme would be something relevant to the present relations and that the results would have more than antiquarian interest in the life of our Churches’.22 The WARC Executive Committee meeting held in Cluj, Romania, in  1968, instructs the WARC theological leadership ‘to explore with the General Secretary of the WCC and the Director of Faith and Order and with representatives of the Roman Catholic Church the elements in the new situation that may make the initiation of Reformed/Roman Catholic dialogue wise at this time’. Should such a review point to the beginning of the dialogue, the same group ‘is empowered to meet with representatives of the Vatican to discuss possible agenda items, schedule, format, etc.’.23 In order to draw the implications of the Cluj decision, Roman Catholic and WARC/WCC representatives meet during the IV WCC Assembly in Uppsala, Sweden, 15 July 1968.24 It is worth noting that the WARC delegation is formed by its president, Wilhelm Niesel, the chairman of WARC’s Department of Theology, James I. McCord, and by two high level WCC executives: Eugene Carson Blake, general secretary, and Lukas Vischer, director of the WCC Commission on Faith and Order. It is agreed that ‘formal, ongoing conversations should begin only if there were real, serious theological/pastoral issues that demanded specifically bilateral treatment’ and that ‘a small group of representatives of both sides



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should hold an ad hoc meeting to discuss if such issues in fact exist, and if they do, what forms of collaboration would best meet the need’.25 Following this decision, WARC undertakes consultations with the confessional families already in dialogue with Rome – Methodists, Lutherans, Congregationalists and the WCC Faith and Order Commission – in order to avoid duplication of theological agendas. Two preparatory meetings between Roman Catholic and Reformed representatives, to be held in November 1968 and April 1969, will finally lead to the conclusion that the specific issues demanding bilateral treatment ‘in fact exist’, and open the way to the launching of the Catholic–Reformed international dialogue.

The WARC internal theological debate on dialogue with Rome (1968) While the WARC officers are taking the steps leading to the decision of moving to dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church, WARC theological advisors exhibit different views on the desirability, convenience and role of a Catholic–Reformed international dialogue. Here is a brief review of this internal discussion. According to the Dutch theologian Hendrikus Berkhof, professor at the University of Leyden, the WARC’s 1965 decision of holding no separate dialogue with Rome remains basically correct. Conversations with the Roman Catholic Church on a world level ‘must necessarily have a somewhat abstract if not ghostly character’. They are in danger of ‘reinforcing denominational characteristics which are no longer the live issues in the actual Churches’. Moreover, ‘according to the philosophy of De Ecclesia and Ecclesiam suam the Vatican loves to surround itself with denominational bodies with which it maintains “conversations”. But the real things happen in the national situations on the one hand and between Rome and Geneva26 on the other hand’. WARC and Rome should start a theological dialogue ‘only if we were convinced that that the WCC would not undertake adequate work’.27 For the Scottish theologian Thomas F. Torrance, professor of Christian Dogmatics at the University of Edinburgh, there does not seem to be much point in setting up talks between the Reformed Churches and the Catholic Church ‘if these are merely to repeat what is going on elsewhere between Protestants and Romans on the usual themes, Scripture, Tradition, Justification, Sacraments, Papacy, Mariology, etc.’. There could be some real point ‘in discussions that were designed to penetrate beneath and behind these areas of disagreement into the basic inner connections with a view to clarifying the deeper divergences and to reaching, if possible, deeper agreement’.

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Torrance proposes discussions that are ‘scientifically set up and carried through’, in which ‘all participants combine to work out rigorously the connections and implications of the common stock of catholic and ecumenical theology of Christendom – e.g. as expressed in the Nicene Creed, and the Ecumenical Councils of the Ancient Catholic Church’. These conversations should therefore focus on topics such as church and Israel, the assumption of Adamic humanity, the vicarious humanity of Christ and the problem of Latin culture. In relation to the assumption of Adamic humanity, Torrance asks: ‘Why is it that the Church of Rome alone accepts the immaculate conception that puts Mary outside the continuity of fallen Adamic humanity? What are the arguments of the Orthodox against this? Why is it that even the vast majority of protestants reject the idea that the Son of God took fallen flesh, “the flesh of sin”, although He sanctified it in the very event of its assumption? Is Roman “infallibility” and is Protestant “perfectionism” bound up with this “error”?’ According to Torrance, the Catholic–Reformed dialogue would then take ‘a seminar form’ in which a group of theologians ‘work together on an agreed set of texts, preferably from the Greek Fathers outside the immediate traditions of Roman and Reformed Churches’. In this way, the results would stand ‘in contrast to the rather passing significance of so many Conference reports of modern times’. Thus the Reformed churches could make ‘a signal contribution to the whole ecumenical discussion’ and one that is not ‘fraught with the artificiality of discussing unity with Rome where this is clearly ecclesiastically and theologically impossible, until great changes have taken place in our common foundations’.28 For Rudolf Ehrlich – a German theologian and Scottish ecumenist29 and professor at Edinburgh, Scotland – the Roman Catholic Church sees its conversations with the world – including the newly launched bilateral dialogues with Anglicans, Lutherans and Methodists – as ‘concentric circles’: ‘they rotate around the one and the same centre: Rome’. As they enter into separate bilateral dialogue with Rome, the Anglican, Lutheran and Methodist churches or confessional federations ‘are doing their best to become separate circles which have only one thing in common: they are concentric, i.e., they have the same centre which is Rome’. Ehrlich goes on to argue that given that separate conversations are taking place, the question now is: ‘Has the Reformed Church (as distinct from the Anglicans, the Lutherans and the Methodists) nothing to contribute to a dialogue with Rome (…)?’ Faithful to the solus Christus of the Reformation, ‘the Reformed theologian must insist on Christ alone being the centre of the dialogue. Today the dialogue is in danger of becoming Rome-centred’. The different understandings of the church may be basically due to ‘Christological misunderstandings’ and their implications



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for ecclesiology. ‘Christology – the humanity of Christ, his substitutionary and vicarious activity both as God and man – and ecclesiology – the Church always as ancilla domini, never and never to be regina coeli – are surely areas where Reformed and Roman Catholic theologians have something to say to each other’.30 Late in  1968, the Congregationalist theologian George B. Caird, a New Testament professor at the University of Oxford, reports to WARC on a November consultation of secretaries and theological consultants of the world confessional families, called ‘to discuss the future of dialogue with Rome’. According to the participants, ‘at the world level the main dialogue should still be conducted under the auspices of the World Council of Churches’. It is essential ‘that Geneva and not Rome should be the centre of all ecumenical discussion’. Only the WCC ‘is large enough to meet the Roman Catholic Church on equal terms’. If there are many separate dialogues, ‘Rome will at once become the hub of a wheel with many radiating spokes’. This is a picture of the ecumenical movement ‘which Rome has held in the past but it is not now anxious to perpetuate’. For George Caird, if the Alliance decides to enter into bilateral dialogue with Rome at world level, such dialogue ‘should be undertaken only if it is clear that the subject is one which these bodies could better discuss without the presence of representatives of other world confessions’. Caird mentions two issues ‘on which our position is so distinctive that the real division between us and Rome is not likely to be brought to the surface when Orthodox, Anglicans, or even Methodists are present’. These two issues are authority in the church, and the relation between continuity and identity. Caird also thinks – ‘rather tentatively’ – that in the post-Vatican II era, Rome faces what ‘has been described as crisis of authority, but which is really a crisis of faith’. Having ‘largely abandoned the old safeguards’, the Roman Catholic Church ‘cannot now see what it is to prevent the faith being modernized away altogether’. Thus, it could benefit from a dialogue with the Congregationalists, ‘who have lived for centuries without safeguards and have still remained substantially orthodox’.31

The preparatory meetings for the WARC–Roman Catholic dialogue (1968–1969) At the end of the first preparatory meeting, held in Geneva, 27–29 November 1968,32 the Catholic and the Reformed representatives agree unanimously that ‘conversations on a world level are now desirable and feasible…’. While in several countries there are Catholic–Reformed conversations,

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which ‘bear directly on the life of the Church in the local situation’, these local conversations ‘cannot influence the whole Church and in some cases they are unable to conclude anything because of the universal nature of the questions under discussion’. Moreover, they often duplicate each other and do not sufficiently influence ‘the centre of their respective authorities’; in countries where local dialogue presents major difficulties, churches are deprived ‘of the influence of the dialogue which is already taking place’. An international dialogue ‘could achieve a wider influence of the results already obtained on national levels’ and would benefit those areas where dialogue is not possible. The Catholic–Reformed dialogue should not duplicate other ongoing dialogues, such as the Catholic–Lutheran and the Catholic–Anglican dialogues. It must reflect not only ‘the peculiar tensions between the two Churches’ but also ‘their common concern to make manifest the relevance of Christ in the word today’. It is agreed that the ‘most suitable’ topic for the next exploratory meeting is ‘The Presence of Christ in Church and World’ because ‘it has a bearing not only on the ultimate salvation of man but also on his life and happiness here and now’. This theme, and especially the meaning of Christ’s saving humanity, would also bring to light ‘the differences between the two communions’. The second preparatory meeting took place in Tiltenberg/Vogelenzang, the Netherlands, 15–19 April 1969.33 It starts by focusing on the national dialogues. A Roman Catholic, I. C. Groot, reports on ‘The Reformed/ Roman Catholic Dialogue in the Netherlands’. A Presbyterian, James H. Nichols, reports on ‘The Reformed-Presbyterian/Roman Catholic Dialogue in the USA’. It is in the wider context of discussions on the local dialogues that two position papers on the theme selected for the preparatory meeting, ‘The Presence of Christ in Church and World’, are presented, respectively, by Jacques de Senarclens, professor of theology at the University of Geneva, and by Joseph Hoffmann, professor at the Faculty of Catholic Theology at the University of Strasbourg, France, and a proxy for the Catholic theologian and Calvin scholar Alexandre Ganoczy. The discussion ensued by the two position papers gives rise to ‘a remarkable convergence’ on Christology, ecclesiology and the attitude of the Christian in the world. It evidences, on the other hand, ‘basic divergences’ related to ‘the central problem of understanding the Lordship of Christ today’. The church is confronted with these traditional problems ‘in quite a new form, because of a new historical situation and more especially of the developments in the secular world’. For the first session of the Catholic–Reformed dialogue, to be held in  1970, the proposed theme is Christ’s Relationship to the Church, because ‘it is both christological and ecclesiological’.



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On ‘denominational pre-eminence’ as a betrayal of Jesus Christ Contemporary readers somewhat familiar with the ways in which bilateral dialogues take place today, may be puzzled by the fact that the ecumenical decision-making process described above is marked not only by some years of hesitation on entering bilaterally into ecumenical dialogue, but also by a constant reference – better: a constant subordination – of WARC’s ecumenical decisions to the WCC and its Faith and Order Commission. The rationale for what looks today an intriguing type of ecumenical discernment and decision making is to be found not so much in the diversity of views on this matter exhibited by the WARC constituency, as in a strict application of the way in which WARC understands itself as a confessional body within the ecumenical movement, especially after the establishment of the WCC in 1948. This understanding begins to take shape in  1949, in response to the Lutheran World Federation decision to sponsor confessional work in mission lands, and is first formulated in 1951 in the statement ‘The World Presbyterian Alliance in the Present Ecumenical Situation’.34 According to that statement, the life of the Protestant churches is marked by three main trends: a movement towards ecumenical understanding and unity; a movement towards the world unity of sectarian groups; and, finally, a movement towards world denominationalism. The Reformed tradition is ‘by nature ecumenical’. It is committed to ‘the pursuit of Christian unity upon the basis of loyal commitment to the essential verities of the Christian faith’. It is in the essence of Presbyterianism ‘never to be merely an end in itself, but to serve the Church Universal of Jesus Christ’. Through WARC, younger churches should be led to understand that ‘it is the true glory of this tradition to seek and promote Christian solidarity and also church union where the local or national situation demands it’. Aware of the perils represented by world denominationalism, the WARC leaders conclude their statement: ‘if the great world denominations, the Reformed churches among them, pursue denominational pre-eminence and make their great world bodies end in themselves, they will betray Jesus Christ’.35 This ecumenical policy is consistently reaffirmed and implemented in the following years, especially in the discernment process leading to the Catholic– Reformed dialogue. Thus, the WARC 1964 General Council adopts three ecumenical documents with direct bearing on WARC relations with the Roman Catholic Church. A brief review of these documents sheds light, respectively, on the Reformed understanding of ecumenicity, on the WARC ecumenical policy and on its implications for its relations with Rome. The first 1964 document is a General Council Section Report on ‘Come Creator Spirit, for the Calling of the Churches Together’. It affirms the

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value of the Reformation principle and reflects on the church universal (catholicity), on the church in each place (locality) and on the role of a confessional body in promoting unity. At the Reformation, ‘the Church was renewed by a new understanding of the Word of God’. But this was a renewal ‘within the ongoing life of the Church, a life continuing from the days of the Apostles’. The truth recognized by the Reformers ‘that there is only one Church extended throughout the world’ remains valid today, and the present disunited state of the church ‘is sinful in that it obscures this truth and our reconciliation with one another in Christ’. To tolerate this disunity ‘is to be sharer in the sin’. The church is catholic because the grace of God in Christ being the good news for all the world, it is ‘called to show by its life that it has a complete Gospel for all sorts and conditions of men’. The Reformed churches recognize catholicity ‘in those churches also which are divided from us, in that they too bear witness to the one Lord and to the one faith’. The toleration of disunity ‘denies the meaning of our baptism’. The unity of the church must be expressed ‘in each place in which Christians live and work’. The separate existence of divided denominations ‘hinders mission’ and ‘impairs or own understanding of the Gospel’. A confessional body ‘is by its very nature a provisional body’. Its purpose includes ‘helping the churches of each place to become one in truth and love of God in Christ’. The Reformed Alliance not only helps to bring all constituent churches ‘into a worldwide fellowship, thus preparing them for other ecumenical contacts’, but it also encourages them ‘to enter upon co-operative enterprises with other Churches’ and ‘to seek or continue union negotiations with a sense of urgency’. It is here that the Alliance ‘must safeguard the most precious insight of the Reformation, namely this, that the Church must be free in the Spirit to obey the Word of God in the changing situations of history’. WARC endorses ‘the support given to the World Council of Churches and the resolve to avoid unnecessary duplication of work that can best be done by the World Council of Churches’.36 The second 1964 document is the Report of the Standing Committee on Ecumenical Policy. It recognizes that ‘the Holy spirit has been awakening us through many ecumenical events within the Church in recent years’. These include ‘the great expansion of the fellowship of churches within the World Council of Churches’, ‘the new climate within Roman Catholicism’, the increasing number of WARC member churches ‘which are now United Churches or are engaged in discussions directed towards Union’ and ‘the insistence by many of the “Younger Churches” and by such bodies as the East Asia Christian Conference, that the role of the world confessional bodies be re-examined’.



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Thus, the Alliance resolves to continue ‘to work in the closest possible collaboration with the World Council of Churches, doing nothing separately which can be done together’. WARC urges its member churches to participate actively in the work of the WCC, to be alert to opportunities to explore with other churches ‘the possibility of closer fellowship, joint action, or union’ and to keep before all their people ‘the truth that the wholeness of the Church must be made manifest in every local community’. Our Reformed heritage, concludes the document, enables us in these ecumenical relationships, ‘to bear witness to truths of the Gospel which are important for the whole Church and for the world’, such as that ‘Jesus Christ is Lord over the Church and the world, and cannot be bound by any churchly institution or rite’.37 In the third 1964 document, the General Council’s Standing Committee on Roman Catholicism opens its report by rejoicing ‘with our Roman Catholic brethren’ in the ‘signs of renewal within that Church’. This has resulted in ‘new relationships of goodwill’; in the opening of areas of cooperation; in the opportunity for dialogue concerning such subjects as ‘the nature of the Gospel, the nature of the Church, its worship and mission, the relation of Scripture and Tradition, the meaning of ecumenism, the meaning of a committed Christian life in a secularized world’; and in the possibility, as understanding and confidence in one another grows, of addressing long-standing areas of disagreement such as ‘mixed marriages, proselytism, and re-baptism and the freedom of Churches to exercise their mission by proclaiming the Gospel in all parts of the world’. It welcomes ‘the advance already made in greater understanding in such matters as the authority of the Scriptures, the nature of the Church, the place of liturgy, and the role of laity’. The Reformed–Catholic dialogue can be truly a work of the Holy Spirit, ‘working for the advancement of the whole Church’. In the new emerging dialogue with Rome, the Alliance can assist its member churches ‘by making available more information concerning developments within the Roman Catholic Church’, by stating clearly ‘the issues and questions raised by the Roman Catholic–Protestant dialogue’ and by ensuring that as far as possible, ‘different parts of the world are represented in the choice of official Observers at the Vatican Council’. The Alliance recognizes the place that the WCC has taken ‘in giving leadership in this area’. WARC is indebted to the WCC ‘for placing the Roman Catholic–Protestant dialogue in the largest context of new understanding between the several branches of the Christian Church’. Finally, the Alliance recognizes – particularly in relation to its member churches in regions such as Latin America – that the Roman Catholic–Reformed encounter includes ‘a real element of risk’ given that some WARC member churches ‘still suffer because of limitations which have been imposed upon

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them in the past and which continue to be imposed on them in the present’. Those churches cannot easily forget ‘the sufferings and injustices which they have known and which some of them continue to know’.38 Unlike other world confessional bodies, such as the Lutheran World Federation, which since its 1936 statement on ‘Lutherans and Ecumenical Movements’ has sought to hold together the search for ad-extra Christian communion and ad-intra Lutheran communion,39 the Reformed Alliance, throughout the 1950s and the 1960s, consistently identifies the search for the visible unity of the church with the overcoming of institutionalized forms of confessional identities. As a result, the Reformed churches are encouraged to enter into church union negotiations in each place. The Alliance understands itself as a provisional denominational instrument, called to point to the vision of a future post-denominational and truly united church; it intends therefore to do alone only what it cannot do through the privileged ecumenical instrumentality of the WCC. And the years following Vatican II are precisely the years in which the WCC and the Roman Catholic Church are launching a promising dialogue through the establishment of a Joint Working Group.

Notes   1. For an English translation of Sadoleto’s letter, see H. Beveridge (transl.), John Calvin – Tracts Relating to the Reformation, Edinburgh, Calvin Translation Society, 1844, volume I, 3–22. The figures in brackets refer to the pages in the Beveridge edition.   2. For what follows, see H. Beveridge (transl.), John Calvin – Tracts Relating to the Reformation. Op. cit., 25–68. Figures in brackets refer to the page in the Beveridge edition.   3. W. Blaikie, ‘Introductory narrative’, Report of Proceedings of the First General Presbyterian Council Convened at Edinburgh, July 1877, Edinburgh, Thomas and Archibald Constable, 1877, 1.   4. M. Pradervand, ‘Report of the General Secretary’. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Ibadan, Nigeria, West Africa – August 26–30, 1962, Appendix 1, 20.   5. What we call today ‘Christian world communions’ or CWCs.   6. M. Pradervand, ‘Report of the General Secretary’. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Ibadan, Nigeria, West Africa – August 26–30, 1962, Appendix 1, 19–21.   7. They were: Pastor Hébert Roux of the Reformed Church of France; Rev Douglas W. D. Shaw of the Church of Scotland, and Rev Prof James H. Nichols of the United Presbyterian Church U.S. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Ibadan, Nigeria, West Africa – August 26–30, 1962, 6–7. Observers at the 1963 session were: Rev Prof Robert McAfee Brown, Rev Angus Morrison, Pastor Hébert Roux and Rev Prof Vittorio Subilia (alternate). Observers to the 1964 session: Rev Prof Vittorio Subilia, Rev Allan MacArthur and Rev Prof J. N. Thomas. Cf. Frankfurt 1964 – Proceedings of the Nineteenth



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General Council of the Alliance of the Reformed Churches Throughout the World Holding the Presbyterian Order, Geneva, Offices of the Alliance, 1964, 251. Observers at the last sessions were: Rev Prof V. Subilia, Rev Dr R. H. N. Davidson and Prof J. K. S. Reid. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee, Baguio City, Philippines, June 24–29, 1965, 5.   8. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Ibadan, Nigeria, West Africa – August 26–30, 1962, 6.   9. ‘The Second Vatican Council – Report of Pastor Hébert Roux’. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee, Princeton, USA, July 29 – August 3, 1963, 38. 10. ‘The Second Vatican Council – Report of Rev. D.W.D. Shaw’. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee, Princeton, USA, July 29 – August 3, 1963, 42. 11. ‘The Second Vatican Council – Report of Professor James Hastings Nichols’. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee, Princeton, USA, July 29 – August 3, 1963, 39. 12. Frankfurt 1964 – Proceedings of the Nineteenth General Council of the Alliance of the Reformed Churches Throughout the World Holding the Presbyterian Order, Geneva, Offices of the Alliance, 1964, 250–1. 13. M. Pradervand, ‘General Secretary’s Report’. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Baguio City, Philippines, June 24–29, 1965, Appendix II, 20. This position will be reaffirmed by the 1966 Executive Committee meeting and by the General Secretary in its report to the 1967 Executive Committee meeting. 14. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Baguio City, Philippines, June 24–29, 1965, 7. 15. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Strasbourg, France, July 28 – August 2, 1966, 9. 16. R. Smith, Memo to Dr. Marcel Pradervand, August 15, 1966, WARC Archives, T/52. 17. It should be noted that the participants from both sides are all Reformed: Wilhelm Niesel, WARC president; James I. McCord, moderator of the WARC Department of Theology; Marcel Pradervand, WARC general secretary; Willem Visser ‘t Hooft, WCC general secretary, Lukas Vischer, WCC/Faith and Order director and Richmond Smith, WARC theological secretary. 18. WARC/Roman Catholic Relations – Consultation between WARC and WCC representatives, November 25, 1966, 2. WARC Archives, T/52. 19. Richmond Smith, Letter to Wilhelm Niesel, 30 January 1968. WARC Archives, T/52. ‘On the subject of Alliance/Roman Catholic dialogue I think that you are aware that some questioning and re-thinking of Alliance policy has been going on in WCC circles’. 20. James I. McCord, Letter to Richmond Smith, 16 February 1968. WARC Archives, T/52. 21. Wilhelm Niesel, Letter to Richmond Smith, 2 February 1968. WARC Archives, T/52. 22. James I. McCord, Letter to Richmond Smith, 16 February 1968. WARC Archives, T/52. 23. World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Minutes of the Executive Committee – Cluj, Romania, June 25–29, 1968, 14.

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24. Roman Catholic representatives were: Jan Willebrands, Killian McDonnell, Thomas Stransky and Jérôme Hamer. On the Reformed side: Wilhelm Niesel, Eugene Carson Blake and Lukas Vischer. 25. Thomas Stransky, Pro Memoria – World Alliance of Reformed Churches – Roman Catholic Church Relations. WARC Archives, T/52. 26. ‘Geneva’ means here the World Council of Churches (note of the author). 27. Letter to Richmond Smith, 31 March 1968. WARC Archives, T/52. 28. Letter to M. Pradervand, 22 January 1968. WARC Archives, T/52. 29. See his book Rome, Opponent or Partner?, London, Lutterworth Press, 1965. 30. Memorandum Concerning Proposed Talks with the Church of Rome. WARC Archives, T/52. Cf. also ‘Ecclesiology – the dialogue with Rome’, Bulletin of Theology, 7(4), 1967, 7–10. 31. George B. Caird, World Confessional Families, 1968 – Report on Discussions about Dialogue with Rome. WARC Archives, T/52. 32. For what follows on the first preparatory meeting, see ‘Consultation of Representatives of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches and Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity of the Roman Catholic Church’. WARC Archives, T/52. Reformed participants are James I. McCord, Rudolf J. Ehrlich and Richmond Smith; Catholic participants are: Jan Willebrands, Alexandre Ganoczy and August Hasler. 33. For what follows on the second preparatory meeting see ‘Preparation for dialogue between the Roman Catholic Church and the World Alliance of Reformed Churches’, Nairobi 1970, Proceedings of the Uniting General Council of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Geneva, WARC, 1970, 204–10. 34. See Odair Pedroso Mateus, The World Alliance of Reformed Churches and the Modern Ecumenical Movement, Geneva, WARC, 2005, 132–6. 35. Idem. 36. Frankfurt 1964 – Proceedings of the Nineteenth General Council of the Alliance of the Reformed Churches Throughout the World Holding the Presbyterian Order, Geneva, Offices of the Alliance, 1964, 220–5. 37. Frankfurt 1964 – Proceedings of the Nineteenth General Council of the Alliance of the Reformed Churches Throughout the World Holding the Presbyterian Order, Geneva, Offices of the Alliance, 1964, 235–7. 38. Frankfurt 1964 – Proceedings of the Nineteenth General Council of the Alliance of the Reformed Churches Throughout the World Holding the Presbyterian Order, Geneva, Offices of the Alliance, 1964, 242–6. 39. See, i.e. M. Root, ‘The ecumenical identity of the Lutheran World Federation’, The Ecumenical Review, 46(4), October 1994, 420–7.

Chapter 12

Calvin’s Theology: An Ecumenical Challenge Michael Beintker

The ecumenicity of the Genevan Reformer Calvin’s theology – an ecumenical challenge? Isn’t that a very daring topic? What good thing can come out of Geneva? Don’t we have to expect thorny polemics rather than productive stimulus for the ecumenical movement? Some may ask this question even today. The ecumenical movement and the ecumenical wealth of Calvin’s theology are not immediately evident. One has to sympathize a little with Calvin and develop a certain goodwill towards him. Understanding the rigour of his judgement means not just focusing on his pronounced criticisms of Rome, but also penetrating into the theological depths of his texts and allowing for the unswerving nature of his analyses. Calvin was concerned for the renewal of the church from the spirit of the gospel. For this, we must want to see the need for church renewal, recognizing that the church lives from the constant turning to Jesus Christ, its ground, head and Lord and that it cannot be the church without this movement of repentance. Then, we will find a great deal in Calvin and, behind the critic, polemicist and admonisher, discover a truly catholic and ecumenical mind. Alexandre Ganoczy, one of the most prominent Catholic interpreters of Calvin in the recent past, put his finger on the fact that Calvin never wanted to leave the Catholic Church. Instead, he wanted to restore it on the pattern of the gospel.1 That is how his ‘conversion’ needs to be understood. Subjectively, Calvin remained Catholic, according to Ganoczy, even when he ‘objectively’ rejected ‘papism’, and thereby some elements of traditional church doctrine and constitution.2 If Calvin was a subjective Catholic, in the context of Protestant attributes of the catholicity of the one church of Jesus Christ, he can even be called an objective Catholic, a paradigmatic exponent of Protestant catholicity in the sixteenth century. He clearly saw

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that an ecclesia catholica seu universalis divided into several churches was impossible, because this way ‘Christ would be torn asunder’.3 Thus, the twentieth century saw a remarkable turning to Calvin by Catholic theologians, something that escaped the attention of many. The Reformed church historian Hans Scholl, who portrayed Catholic Calvin research under the evocative title Calvinus catholicus,4 even spoke of the vision of a ‘Catholic Calvin’,5 which had become increasingly perceptible after the Second Vatican Council. Scholl detected three factors responsible for this: first, the Catholic side recognized the connection between the motif of the glory of God and the salvation of human beings that is insolubly bound up with it. This is the common basis of Calvinist and Catholic theology and piety. Second, the ever clearer agreement on the fundamentals is, in his view, a powerful motive for developing an ecumenical theology. Third, Calvin is now perceived as a champion of the Reformation of the whole of Christendom,6 a Catholic Reformer of the first water, so to say, who fits very well with the hopes of a new dawn associated with Vatican II.7 On the Roman Catholic side, there seemed to be the beginnings of downright enthusiasm for Calvin. Scholl pointed out, for example, that Yves Congar, and others before him, had in a certain sense only found one thing wrong with Calvin, that he ‘was not a Catholic’.8 It becomes clear that there are Roman Catholic theologians who do not want to simply leave Calvin to Reformed theology. As an observer of the scene, I occasionally wish that more Lutheran theologians would take a similar interest in Calvin. Certainly, the mood of renewal – before, during and after the Second Vatican Council – served as a major catalyst for Catholic interest in Calvin. Yves Congar and Alexandre Ganoczy spring to mind here. Ganoczy is a good example of how the reforming dynamic of the Council was able to transform perspectives on Calvin interpretation. His Calvin study (Paris 1964)9 was noticeably revised for the German version published in 1968.10 In view of the constitutions and decrees of the Council, and his continued research on Calvin, Ganoczy had been prompted to compare Calvin’s doctrine of the church and church ministry with the dogmatic statements of Vatican II rather than the propositions of traditional Roman Catholic ecclesiology.11 The fruit of this comparison is then presented in extenso in a comprehensive final chapter ‘Calvin and Vatican II’,12 which concludes that Calvin is still relevant. His ecclesiology, according to Ganoczy, always made a good contribution to the church remaining the church or being renewed, to its preserving or rediscovering its identity and to its obeying no other authority than that of Christ.13 Ganoczy thus followed the thread through to Karl Barth, whose Church Dogmatics, he said, brought fundamental ideas from Calvin’s work into the present.14



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Naturally, the ecumenical nature of Calvin’s thoughts cannot be restricted to the relationship between Catholics and Reformed. Ecumenism cannot only be bilateral, but has to be pursued in a multipolar way. My remarks are intended to make clear that Calvin is by no means merely of interest to Protestants, let alone only to Reformed Christians. Others can benefit from reading Calvin, and the way in which contemporary Catholics have done so, and still do, should be an example to ecumenism as a whole. Ecumenical learning in theological discourse takes place best through cross-fertilization. I will illustrate what Calvin has to say ecumenically on the basis of three selected samples: first, a theological and ecumenical understanding of Reformation; second, a soteriological example, prompted by Calvin’s ranking of justification and sanctification; and third, the high esteem in which Calvin’s ecclesiology held the church. These are just examples. Calvin’s work is rich, and it is easy to find further ecumenical lines of investigation. These include: his Christology with its teaching on mediators and three ministries, his pneumatology, his teaching on baptism and the Eucharist, and his views on ministry and church governance. All these areas contain theological innovations, which not only reveal a high degree of originality – they can also serve as strong bridges towards the convergence of different denomi­ national doctrines.

Reformation and ecumenism ‘Reformation’ and particularly ‘Reforming’ frequently define a particular content, these terms marking out a specific denomination and thus distinguishing it from non-Reformation tradition, e.g. Roman Catholic or Orthodox. With respect to the 1973 agreement between Reformation Churches in Europe (Leuenberg Agreement),15 no one immediately thinks that this text could also concern Catholics, Orthodox or Anglicans. The category ‘Reformation’ is, of course, more than a denominational identity marker, more than a term from historiography or cultural history. The present preparations for the anniversary of the Reformation in 2017 and the Reformation Decade leading up to it have given us plenty of cause to ask whether this is to be primarily an anniversary of the Churches of the Reformation or an anniversary of (at least) Western Christianity. A further question is whether – in view of the division of the church – the expression ‘anniversary’ is still appropriate. We will get no further without a more exact definition of Reformation.16 Calvin calls for this immediately. Even if he rarely reflected on the topic of ‘Reformation’ in expressly theological terms, we are well informed about his understanding of ‘Reformation’. What always counts is his view of the early

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church: the apostolic situation is compared to the blatantly divergent church situation of his age. That applies to a greater or lesser degree to all the Reformers of the sixteenth century. Calvin argued precisely along these lines in his letter to Cardinal Jacopo Sadoleto, who wanted to bring the Genevans back to the Roman Catholic fold. He pointed out that the Reformers were concerned with nothing more nor less than ‘to renew that ancient form of the Church, which, at first sullied and distorted by illiterate men of indifferent character, was afterwards flagitiously mangled and almost destroyed by the Roman Pontiff and his faction’.17 In the form of the church founded by the apostles, we find ‘the only model of a true Church [unicum habemus verae ecclesiae exemplar]: and whosoever deviates from it in the smallest degree is in error’.18 Calvin stressed that orientation to this model was bound up with the purity and clarity of witness to the gospel; indeed, restoring the original purity of confession was an essential condition for the reforming renewal of the church.19 Thus, ‘Reformation’ may be defined as the church’s return to its origins. The church, always in the process of diverging or falling away from its genuine form, from its authenticity as the Church of Jesus Christ, is to be brought back to its roots through reformation, thereby regaining its lost authenticity. Calvin did not want the church to attempt to imitate the historical origin of the early church. Despite all the praise the latter deserves, that would be precisely an unhistorical approach, overlooking the fact that we cannot simply copy earlier ages, not even in the church. Rather, the ‘origin’ is a christological factor, and the original event happening here and now – the Lord’s turning to his church – is what makes the church the church. The church can only respond by constantly turning to its Lord. Ecclesia est semper reformanda,20 the phrase expressing the central concern of the Reformation, is certainly not a call to engage in reformist activism. It is only properly understood and practised when it is read as a challenge to the church to repent and turn to Jesus Christ, this then leading to an impetus to reform the actual shape of the church. In his letter to Sadolet, Calvin lamented the downfall of the true face of the church on the eve of the Reformation and the casting down of Christ’s Lordship.21 Reformation thus meant the church’s turning, and being led, back under the lordship of Christ. The church is recognized in its being constituted through the Word of God with Christ as its head.22 Calvin thus says: ‘As a man is recognised by his face, so she (the church) is to be beheld in Christ’.23 He appeals to Cyprian, who found the source of all church harmony ‘from Christ’s episcopate alone’.24 Cyprian constantly calls Christians back to Christ as the head of the church, stating ‘that heresies and schisms arise because men return not to the Source [origo] of truth, seek not the Head, keep not the teaching of the Heavenly Master’.25



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‘Reformation’ as a theological category is above all characterized by an incorruptible view of the relationship between God and humankind. It allows God to be the sovereign actor and creator. It embraces human beings in  all their unconditional dependence on the divine creator and saviour. It contradicts all ideas of salvation that underestimate the sovereignty of God’s mercy and encounter the unlimited granting of his grace with scepticism. It mistrusts all plans to have illusions about human beings and to ignore our sheer need of God’s redemption. Radically captive to sin, we are radically dependent on God’s liberating action. If we repent and turn to God, we do not need to have the slightest doubt about the reality of being God’s children. Precisely for that reason, the doctrine of justification is of cardinal importance, because it leads us to consider the relations between God and humanity, sin and mercy, faith and temptation, but also faith and freedom, faith and love, faith and good works as sub ratione Dei. Calvin did not want to establish a special Reformed church. His reforming endeavours were for the una sancta catholica ecclesia. ‘Always, both by word and deed, have I protested how eager I was for unity [unitatis studio]…’, he writes in a moving prayer in his letter to Cardinal Sadolet, who had accused him of splitting the church, ‘...Mine, however, was a unity of the Church, which should begin with thee [the Lord] and end in thee’.26 Reformation is a basic impulse that seeks to benefit the whole of Christ’s church. It stands for the church’s turning to Jesus Christ. This will bring together divided Christendom. So, Reformation is an ecumenical category that suffers when subjected to a narrow interpretation.

Calvin’s ranking of justification and sanctification – a boost to ecumenism There have always been differences of opinion regarding the doctrine of justification. The sovereignty and exclusivity that is here ascribed to the salvific movement of divine grace (sola gratia), only too rapidly aroused the fear that things were being made too easy for sinful individuals. The main bone of contention was the relationship of divine to human works with the steps taken by the justifying and sanctifying God with the faithful. A substantial trigger of the sixteenth-century Reformation was thus the fact that, in terms of the theology of grace, there was a great deal of unclarity about unreserved forgiveness and how to assess the need for forgiveness or merit of human works. Like Luther and Melanchthon, Calvin was deeply convinced of the central importance of the article of justification. If the knowledge of justification disappears from the church, ‘the glory of Christ is extinguished,

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religion abolished, the Church destroyed, and the hope of salvation utterly overthrown’.27 Justification by faith is the ‘highest moment [in religione summum]’.28 Anyone reading Calvin’s remarks on the doctrine of justification in the third book of the Institutes29 will first note the great consensus among the Reformers. However, the forensic perspective is strikingly in the forefront, where the whole emphasis lies on the acquittal of the sinner through God’s judgement. Justification was the ‘Acceptance [acceptatio], with which God receives us into his favour as righteous men [pro iustis habet]’;30 it consisted of the forgiveness of sins and the imputation of Christ’s judgement (iustitiae Christi imputatione).31 The immediate assumption that this process could remain without consequence for the life of the justified persons, because they could be continually forgiven and justified by the righteousness of Christ, turns out – on closer inspection – to be unfounded. Righteousness and sanctification belong together as inseparably as the two natures in Christ (‘inseparabilia esse haec duo [...] iustitiam et sanctificationem’).32 The effective moment of justification – its life-renewing, practical effect on the justified – is not treated indifferently. It asserts itself in a quite new way by forming the overarching framework and also life context of the doctrine of justification. Here, Calvin placed the accents differently. That becomes clear in the very structure of his soteriology in the third book of the Institutes. The doctrine of justification is in the context of the doctrine of the sanctification of Christian life. Thus, the soteriology begins by considering the effects of the Holy Spirit in Christian life.33 Christianity means growing together with Christ, being united with him; and this union is the work of the Holy Spirit – it is the bond through which Christ effectively (efficaciter) binds us to himself.34 After the pneumatological overture of his soteriology, the Reformer goes through the stages of Christian life: the nature of faith,35 penance with all the controversial details linked to the doctrine of penance,36 the structures, dynamics and movement of Christian life, the discipleship of the cross, and hope.37 Only then is the topic of justification spread out before us as a doctrinal topic, according to all the rules in the book. The golden thread laid with the vita Christiana is taken up again in the contemplation of Christian freedom.38 Finally, the soteriology is rounded off in the longest chapter of the Institutes, at the same time one of its finest: the doctrine of prayer.39 Being one with Christ through God’s spirit and prayer: those are the key points in the life of a Christian. Even if the structure of Calvin’s soteriology continued to develop over almost two and a half decades, it is still based on a theology of justification. Justification aims at sanctification, and the justification event is unfolded in the context of sanctification. In the spirit of Luther, justification is to be regarded as the precondition of sanctification



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and sanctification as the consequence of justification. The thinking thus follows the path that God takes with the sinner. But we, likewise, have to remember why this happens. God takes this path so that the sinner can turn into a new person, determined in being and action not by alienation and turning away from God, but by the all-embracing love of God. God’s aim is the new person (Adam), who is to be recognizable as destined to be God’s creature and made in God’s image. Calvin proved to be a second-generation Reformer in his special esteem for the renewal of life inseparably related to justification by faith alone. He observed the effects of preaching on justification – listeners are pleased to hear of the liberating gift of grace, but the creative claim on the renewal of life goes in one ear and out the other. However, to understand the gospel as enabling non-committal ethics and libertarianism, as did many groups in Geneva in Calvin’s time, would be to completely misunderstand it. Calvin complained a lot about the misunderstanding of Christian freedom. Under the guise of freedom, some people ‘shake off all obedience toward God and break out into unbridled license’, while others feared ‘that it takes away all moderation, order, and choice of things’.40 Both of these attitudes miss the point of the freedom experienced in faith. The freedom that wells up from faith causes us to joyfully and willingly do the will of God: in sanctification we are freed by God to be obedient. Calvin’s ranking of justification and sanctification can be clarified from an idea put forward by Karl Barth, who linked up with Calvin at this point: justification is the ground but sanctification is the goal of God’s action with human beings.41 And since a goal always precedes an action – if it is not to be aimless and thus blind activism – it must then be said: the sanctification that appears to be secondary in execution (executione posterius) in God’s intention is considered first (intentione prius).42 From this perspective, Barth saw a teleological ranking of sanctification over justification. God wants to recognize persons as made in his image. He therefore justifies them, and thus sanctifies them, by grace. For this ranking of justification and sanctification, Barth was recalling Calvin’s discussion of the subject in the Institutes. Calvin was firmly on the ground of the Reformation doctrine of justification. He even shored up the fact that people cannot contribute in the least to their salvation with his consistently crafted doctrine of predestination. But Calvin equally consistently ruled out the fact that being Christian could mean having the permanent gift of justifying grace without anything changing in one’s life. He was thus able to highlight with impressive clarity the importance of God’s commands for the Christian life and, despite all his criticism of Andreas Osiander’s unconventional reworking of the doctrine of justification, on the one hand, and the justification decree of Trent, on the other, he had no problem

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talking about ‘The beginning of justification and its continual progress [Quale initium iustificationis et continui progressus]’.43 Through the power of the Holy Spirit, who dwells in the justified person, all the desires of the flesh will be increasingly eliminated from day to day (magis ac magis), and ‘we are indeed sanctified, that is, consecrated to the Lord in true purity of life, with our hearts formed to obedience to the law’.44 Calvin did not remain standing with Luther’s famous question by a person undergoing trials and tribulations (and nor did Luther). The question ‘How can I get a gracious God?’ turned into a question by God, who is troubled by the sin of the real-life human being. God’s question could be: ‘How can I get a new person – a person who can live according to his/her creaturely destiny?’ Justification and sanctification are soteriological strategies that God chooses in order to be able to enjoy fellowship again with the human creature who has moved away from God and fallen into sin. Future ecumenical discussions of the doctrine of justification should no longer pass over Calvin. After all, he admitted that there was no disagreement about the origin (principium) of justification between himself and the more reasonable scholastic theologians, despite all his criticism of Roman Catholic soteriology. Both believed ‘that a sinner freely liberated from condemnation may obtain righteousness, and that through the forgiveness of sins’.45 He perceived the bone of contention as being in the merit assumed for human works, and it was a massive one. At any rate, Calvin’s doctrine of justification contains a potential that makes it interesting for ecumenical dialogues devoted to this topic. Who knows how the Joint Declaration on the Doctrine of Justification of 1999 would have turned out if Catholics and Lutherans had also drawn in the Reformed and Calvin’s doctrine of justification? The sola fide to which Calvin unswervingly held is soteriologically above any shadow of suspicion that it aids and abets ‘cheap grace’. And the idea of an interplay of divine and human activities inspired and orchestrated by God’s Spirit is absolutely essential for the sanctification of the justified.

High esteem for the church It has often been said that Protestants have a broken relationship with the church – neglect or even lack of respect for its institutional constitution and an inappropriate stress on the subjectivity of faith in practice. It cannot be denied that Protestantism has problems with the shape and shaping of the church in that, time and again, it tends towards a kind of ecclesiological hostility to the body. Furthermore, the discovery of subjectivity by major authors may be praised as the most important achievement of the Reformation.



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Calvin cannot be cited in this context, however. It may have had something to do with his legal training and his attention to the community that, from the start, he saw the high theological rank of questions of church order and the Christian life of individuals as always embedded in the constituted community of the faithful. One cannot be a Christian without the church. Turning away from the church was tantamount to denying God and Christ;46 ‘…for those to whom he (God) is Father, the church may also be mother’.47 Calvin had no problem at all about talking of ‘mother church’, which was not typical of Protestants at the time and was even avoided in the Reformed confessions,48 but was bound to impress a Catholic interpreter of Calvin like Ganoczy.49 The visible (!) church as omnium piorum mater50 conceives us in her womb, bears and feeds us, protects, leads and guides us as our mother until our resurrection on the Day of Judgement. The church brings us up and instructs us in the Christian faith and we come to salvation in her alone.51 The true church, Calvin tells Sadolet, ‘is the society of all the saints, a society which, spread over the whole world, and existing in  all ages, yet bound together by the one doctrine, and the one Spirit of Christ, cultivates and observes unity of faith and brotherly concord’.52 The Protestants are one with this (truly catholic and universal) church: ‘Nay, rather, as we revere her as our mother, so we desire to remain in her bosom’.53 In defining the marks of the church, Calvin follows the famous seven articles of the Augsburg Confession (CA) of 1530. Here, the church is defined as the congregatio sanctorum, in which the gospel is preached in its pure form (pure docetur) and the sacraments administered in accordance with the gospel (recte administrantur).54 These are the two basic features of the visible church (notae ecclesia). The consensus on both is sufficient, according to CA 7, for the true unity of the Christian church.55 Here, statements were made that are central to Protestant understanding of church and ecumenism to this day. The Leuenberg Agreement of 1973 justified church communion between different denominations with these notae ecclesiae, and stated, almost word for word, that ‘agreement in the right teaching of the Gospel and in the right administration of the sacraments’ was ‘necessary and sufficient’ for the true unity of the church.56 The link with CA 7 plays a considerable role in the preface to the first edition of the Institutes of 1536, dedicated to Francis I of France. Compared to the Roman Catholic view that the visibility of the church was anchored in the hierarchy, i.e. the Holy See and the ordained clergy, Calvin claimed that the church could exist without such an outward appearance; ‘[…] its appearance is not contained within that outward magnificence which they foolishly admire. Rather, it has quite another mark, namely, the pure preaching of God’s Word and the lawful administration of the sacraments’.57

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Calvin illustrates this by citing the times of persecution suffered by Israel and the church in its history, in which the outward form of the church had fallen on hard times and it only remained alive thanks to the vitality of its witness.58 In the Institutes, Calvin then says: the church can be seen and experienced wherever God’s Word is sincerely preached and heard (syncere praedicari et audiri) and wherever the sacraments are administered as instituted by Christ.59 Interesting new accents shine through here: CA 7 does not include the idea of the church being wherever the gospel – Calvin said ‘God’s Word’ – is sincerely ‘heard’. That church members should lead a recognizably Christian life was also important to Calvin. He strongly underlined the fact that God alone knows his own, but he still looked for clues by which one can recognize at least the members of the church, i.e. those who ‘by confession of faith, by example of life, and by partaking of the sacraments, profess the same God and Christ with us’.60 For Calvin, there are external marks of being Christian that are added to the notae ecclesiae, thus documenting the credibility of the church members and in a certain sense also the credibility of the church. The Genevan Christians, who were instructed in the Geneva Catechism of 1537, had to learn: ‘nous entendons que la droicte marque pour bien discerner lEglise de Iesuchrist est quant son sainct Evangille y est purement et fidelment presche, annonce, escoute et garde: quand ses sacremens sont droictement administrez, encores quil y ayt quelques imperfections et faultes, comme tousiours il y en aura entre les hommes’.61 As we see here, Calvin was not a perfectionist in questions of church organization and those instructed in the Protestant faith were not expected to be either. If, however, the Word of God is neither preached nor heard, let alone the sacraments administered as intended by Christ, the church is alienated from herself. Indeed, if the relationship to Jesus Christ as the ground of the church is destroyed and salvation is no longer sought in Jesus Christ alone, we are then dealing with the ecclesia falsa.62 For Calvin and the whole Refor­ mation movement, that ‘wrong church’ was the contemporary papist church, whose extreme need of reform at the time is recognized today across all denominational borders. Calvin’s sharp criticism is sufficiently familiar. Despite all the bewilderment that the modern reader will feel in view of Calvin’s anti-Rome polemics, we must not overlook the tribulations and anti-Protestant terror that had seized his French compatriots. Calvin’s accusations had not grown out of anti-Rome idiosyncrasies, but from deep love of the church as the mother of the faithful. From his angle, the official church under the control of Rome had fallen away from this motherly role. He saw a Roman Church that had placed itself between Christ and the faithful and thus massively hindered faith in Christ.



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But Calvin did not relegate the harshly criticized Roman Church to an ecclesiological no-man’s land either. Even among the ‘papists’ there are ‘vestiges of the church [vestigia ecclesiae]’.63 God had ‘reliably’ maintained his covenant even among them – in France, Italy, Germany, Spain and England;64 baptism as witness to this covenant maintained full validity and there were also relics (reliquiae) of the true church ‘that the church might not utterly die’.65 Calvin seems to have hesitated about whether the Roman Church could still be regarded as church. He occasionally states that, ‘properly speaking, there can be no Church where the word of God is not received, nor profession made of subjection to it, nor use of sacraments’.66 It is likewise clear that he then wrestles for a differentiated ecclesiological judgement: ‘However, when we categorically [simpliciter] deny to the papists the title of the church, we do not for this reason impugn the existence of churches among them [non ideo Ecclesias apud eos esse inficiamur]. Rather, we are only contending [litigamus] about the true and lawful constitution of the church [de vera et legitima Ecclesiae constitutione], required in the communion not only of the sacraments (which are the signs of profession) but also especially of doctrine’.67 Interestingly, Calvin prefers to speak in such contexts of churches in the plural. One could think here of individual church districts, or dioceses, but also of congregations. Already in the letter to Cardinal Sadolet, he had no desire to question that fact. ‘We, indeed, Sadolet, deny not that those [ecclesiae] over which you preside are Churches of Christ’.68 The difficulty may have been for him to generally allow that the whole Roman Catholic Church was a church when individual churches could be found in its jurisdiction. The plural was perfectly appropriate for Calvin’s Protestant ecclesiology, as the universal catholica ecclesia takes the form of churches – today, Calvin would be regarded as a supporter of the individual church model. God’s faithfulness to his covenant, which subsists under the conditions of a church alienated from its origins and ground, commits Christianity to the ecumenical movement. At least, that is the prospect arising to us from Calvin’s argumentation. The subjects debated in those days were about the true, proper form of the church, i.e. of ecclesiology and church order, fellowship in the sacraments and consensus in doctrine.69 One could also call that Calvin’s ecumenical agenda, if it had been appropriate to use the concept ‘ecumenical’ at the time, in view of all the controversies and subsequent condemnations. The interesting thing about this agenda is the succession of items on it. It starts with ecclesiology and church order. Then follows the sacrament debate and only then the discussion of communio doctrinae – emphasized with a vero potissimum70 (de facto a clarification of the common understanding of

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the gospel like that which followed in the Leuenberg Agreement). Calvin can also vary things. In the correspondence with Sadolet, he names ‘doctrine, constitution and sacraments’ and the external form taken by acts of worship, i.e. liturgy.71 Ecumenism in the context of Calvin’s thinking would give great importance to the doctrine of the church, if the ecclesiological scope of church denominational fellowship, as achieved in the Leuenberg Agreement, were to be on the agenda.72 If we follow Calvin, we can by no means seek to clarify the question about church fellowship only in consensus on the preaching of the gospel in its pure form and the proper administration of the sacraments, according to CA 7. Since both these activities take place in the church and in a certain sense are even to be regarded as eminently church forming, ecumenical dialogues are dependent on striking an ecclesiological compromise. And, of course, this compromise also involves coming to an understanding about church ministries – highly esteemed by Calvin – and the presbyterial, synodal and Episcopal levels of church governance. Calvin concluded his letter to Cardinal Sadolet with the words: ‘The Lord grant, Sadolet, that you and all your party may at length perceive, that the only true bond of Ecclesiastical unity would exist if Christ the Lord, who hath reconciled us to God the Father, were to gather us out of our present dispersion into the fellowship of his body, that so, through his one Word and Spirit, we might join together with one heart and one soul’.73 Calvin preserved this hope for unity all his life. He clearly saw that the Lord of the church commits us to preserve unity. No one may stand smugly aside here; rather ‘all jointly should keep and maintain the union of the Church, and submit to the public teaching, and to the yoke of Jesus Christ, wherever God shall have established a true order of the Church’.74 Calvin’s theology was an ecumenical challenge in his time. It is all the more so today – in an age in which the divided churches regard it as normal not to engage in polemics against one another and to act towards one another in a spirit of respect, as members of one family.

Notes   1. A. Ganoczy, Ecclesia ministrans. Dienende Kirche und kirchlicher Dienst bei Calvin, Freiburg/Basel/Vienna: Herder, 1968, 104.   2. Ibid.   3. Inst. 4 1.2 (J. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, transl. by F. L. Battles, ed. by. J. T. McNeill [McNeill], Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1960, 1014).   4. H. Scholl, Calvinus catholicus. Die katholische Calvinforschung im 20. Jahrhundert, Freiburg/Basel/Vienna: Herder, 1974.   5. Ibid., 114.



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  6. Ibid.   7. Ibid., 173.   8. Ibid., 114. – Cf. Y. Congar, Calvin, Calvinisme, Catholicisme vol. 2, Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1949, 405–24.   9. A. Ganoczy, Calvin. Théologien de l’Église et du Ministère, Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1964. 10. A. Ganoczy, Ecclesia ministrans (note 1). 11. Ibid., 5. 12. Ibid., 343–430; see also A. Ganoczy, ‘Calvin und das Vatikanum II. Das Problem der Kollegialität’, in: Vorträge des Instituts für Europäische Geschichte 37, Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1965. 13. A. Ganoczy, Ecclesia ministrans (note 1), 345. 14. Ibid. 15. http://www.leuenberg.net/daten/Image/Konkordie-en.pdf. 16. See also my essay: ‘Was ist das Reformatorische? Einige systematisch-theologische Erwägungen’, ZThK 100 (2003), 44–63, to which I occasionally refer below. 17. J. Calvin, Reply by John Calvin to letter by Cardinal Sadolet to the Senate and People of Geneva, in: Tracts Relating to the Reformation, vol. 1, transl. by Henry Beveridge, Calvin Translation Society, Edinburgh 1844, 37. 18. Ibid., 37f. 19. Ibid., 62f. 20. In this version, it is a modern proposition. 21. Letter to Sadolet (note 17), 63f. 22. See J. Calvin, ‘Articles agreed upon by the Faculty of Sacred Theology of Paris, with Antidote’, in: Tracts Relating to the Reformation, vol. 1, transl. by Henry Beveridge, op. cit., 102. 23. Ibid., 102. 24. Inst. 4 2.6. With approval, Calvin quotes Cyprian, De catholica ecclesiae unitate. On Calvin’s reading of Cyprian, see A. Zillenbiller, Die Einheit der katholischen Kirche. Calvins Cyprianrezeption in seinen ekklesiologischen Schriften, Mainz: von Zabern, 1993. 25. Inst. 4 2.6. 26. Answer to Sadolet (note 17), 59. 27. Reply to Sadolet (note 17), 41. 28. Ibid. 29. Above all Inst. 3 11–18. 30. Inst. 3 11.2. 31. Inst. 3 11.2. 32. Inst. 3 11.6. 33. Inst. 3 1. 34. Inst. 3 1. 35. Inst. 3 2. 36. Inst. 3 3.5. 37. Inst. 3 6.0. 38. Inst. 3 19. 39. Inst. 3 20. 40. Inst. 3 19.1 (1536). 41. Karl Barth, KD IV/2, 508, 505f., 509–11. 42. KD IV/2, 508. 43. Heading of Inst. 3 14.

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44. Inst. 3 14.9. 45. Inst. 3 14.11 (1543). 46. Inst. 4 1.10. 47. Inst. 4 1.1. 48. H. Scholl (note 4), 171. 49. A. Ganoczy, Ecclesia ministrans (note 1), 149ff. – Ganoczy cites Bucer as influential in Calvin’s talk of the church as mother (ibid., 152). 50. This is the heading of Inst. 4 1. 51. Inst. 4 4–5. 52. Answer to Sadolet (note 17), 37; see Inst. 4 1.9. 53. Ibid, 37. 54. BSLK 60, 2–6. 55. Ibid., 7–12. 56. Leuenberg Agreement (note 15), 2. 57. Calvin’s letter of dedication to Francis I for the first edition of the Institutes of 1536, in: J. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 1536 edition, transl. by F. L. Battles, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986, 9. 58. Ibid., 92–5. 59. Inst. 4 1.9. 60. Inst. 4 1.8. 61. Instruction et confession de foy (1537). ‘We understand that the right mark to discern the church of Jesus Christ is when its holy Gospel is purely and faithfully preached, proclaimed, heard and kept: [and] when its sacraments are properly administered, although there may be some imperfections and faults, as is always the case among human beings’. (Our translation) 62. Inst. 4 2.1. 63. Inst. 4 2.11. 64. Ibid. 65. Ibid. 66. Confessio Gallicana, 1559, English translation: Ph. Schaff, Creeds of Christendom, vol. III, Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 6th ed., 1977, 356–82, 375. 67. Inst. 4 2.12. 68. Reply to Sadolet (note 17), 50. 69. See note 57. 70. Inst. 4 2.12. 71. Reply to Sadolet (note 17), 38. 72. The Protestant churches in the Communion of Protestant Churches in Europe (CPCE), until 2003 called the Leuenberg Church Fellowship, performed this ecclesiological task with the study on the church commissioned in Vienna in 1994: The Church of Jesus Christ. The Contribution of the Reformation towards Ecumenical Dialogue on Church Unity. 73. Reply to Sadolet (note 17), 68. 74. Confessio Gallicana (note 66), 374.

Chapter 13

Can Scripture Interpret Itself? Thoughts on the Relationship between the Interpretation of Scripture and Church Ministry in Calvin’s Theology Stefan Scheld Anyone hearing the question ‘Can scripture interpret itself?’ would probably prima facie reject the idea. Scripture is literature and thus something that requires human attention before its content can be revealed. Therefore, there is no getting around the need for a subjective, external interpretation of scripture, which begins as it is read and heard, and continues as it is expounded and explained. However, the history of the Reformation includes an approach that appeared to marginalize this fact.

Luther, the young reformer, and self-interpreting scripture At the height of the conflict between Luther and Pope Leo X, the pope set him an ultimatum to revoke 41 of his theses. In their defence, Luther then appealed to scripture as the norm for every doctrinal opinion. He was thereby suggesting that the pope had not examined his theses sufficiently. Basically, Luther claimed, the pope was basing his rejection of the 41 theses merely on grounds of ecclesiastical tradition and, in particular, the teaching of the church fathers contained therein. What yardstick should the pope have used? In Luther’s opinion, it was scripture. He expressed it in graphic terms: ‘But nobody can ever substantiate an obscure saying by one that is more obscure; Therefore, necessity forces us to run to the Bible with the writings of all teachers, and to obtain there a verdict and judgment upon them. Scripture alone is the true lord and master of all writings and doctrine on Earth’.1 Thus, Luther formulated the sola scriptura principle of Reformation theology, not in so many words, but with a clear intention. It is clear from his choice of phraseology that he gives the Bible definite individuality. He speaks of it as a person from whom he expects a hearing and

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judgement. The Bible is lord and master. The now classical phrase in which Luther describes its yardstick role runs as follows, ‘It is therefore necessary that a judgment be made here, using scripture as judge. Scripture is its own interpreter and tests, judges and illuminates all the doctrinal opinions of everyone’.2 Here, too, it is striking how he personifies and individualizes scripture. It is judge and interpreter. By giving it such a role, Luther is attributing to the Bible the ability to test and judge a theological doctrine. In the course of such an examination, the role of the theologian, or the ordained clergy, almost disappears into the background. Moreover, Luther does not seem to notice that the reminder ‘Test and evaluate all teaching in advance; keep the teaching that is good’, which he cites from 1 Thess. 5.21, does not refer to scripture as a yardstick or as a judge. On the contrary, it addresses the Christian community in Thessalonica.3 Paul is assuming that the members of the church have the ability to recognize whether a teaching or opinion will stand the test of time and can thus be seen as valid and worth keeping. In this regard, what does it mean if Luther ascribes to scripture the role of tester and judge of all Christian doctrine and Christian practice? It means that the Christian community is out of the picture, the very group that ought to be responsible for judging Christian teaching. Basically, Luther accepts only two criteria for judgement: the external yardstick is scripture and the internal one is his own conscience. He does not put forward any third criterion in the form of a consensus reached by the church or community, or by theologians.4 That resonates with his lack of trust in doctrinal decisions passed by synods or councils, at least until 1530. What position did Calvin take in this connection? (a) Calvin’s nuanced view of the individuality of the interpreter and the objectivity of scripture Before Calvin’s attitude to scripture and scriptural interpretation can be accurately presented, it should be noted that what prompted his conversion was his religious experience in Bible study groups in Paris, Orleans, Bourges, Angoulème, Nerac, Claix, Strasbourg and Basle. His conversion has never been described in all its detail, but it is clear that these conspiratorial Bible groups were conducted with great passion.5 Here, Calvin got to grips with scripture, not just by himself, but also in a group. Together, its members shared, read and discussed the Bible, which is a source of immediate individual and communal benefit. In those Bible study groups, Calvin experienced both the constituting of Christian church community and personal Christian growth through this fellowship. That he did not find this community and growth in the traditional church structures was due to the general picture of the church at that time. But this does not alter the fact that this communal experience of



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sharing the Bible was, for Calvin, a way of experiencing church. And it would have a substantial influence on the key features of his hermeneutics. This is easy to comprehend, if we take a closer look at Calvin’s statements about scripture, scriptural interpretation and church. Like Luther and other reformers, Calvin thought that scripture was basically transparent and clear. He had no patience with doubts about its credibility.6 Calvin admits that the Bible contains some unclear passages, but these should not give cause for a general accusation that the whole Word of God is unclear.7 At this point, we have the first signs of Calvin’s consideration of the way the Bible is handled by individuals.

1. Calvin’s emphasis on the individuality of the interpreters Any reference to the credibility or reliability of scripture focuses on the people who believe and trust in the Word, or are supposed to do so. And only people who study the Bible and come to the conclusion that it is not clear, or not clear enough, can accuse the Bible of lack of clarity. Calvin then goes on to say that God speaks to no one without a good reason or purpose, and that he will reveal the meaning of his words in his own time if they are kept in people’s hearts.8 Thus, human beings have an important role to play in relation to scripture, for they are the ones who keep the words of scripture as the Word of God in their hearts. Those who know their Bibles will have realized that in choosing the expression ‘keep the Word of God in their hearts’, Calvin is alluding to Mary the Mother of Jesus, who kept the words of the angel Gabriel in her heart, although at first she did not understand them. And so, for Calvin, if someone says scripture is obscure or a labyrinth, it can only be a pretext for their lack of willingness to understand.9 With the expression ‘willingness to understand’, we have an additional indication that Calvin took the subjectivity of those who interpreted scripture seriously. Scripture does not understand itself. It is either understood or misunderstood. Where there is unwillingness to understand, misunderstanding is sure to follow. The labyrinth metaphor also contains a hidden reference to subjectivity, because a complex system of pathways first turns into a labyrinth when people enter it. Applying the labyrinth metaphor to scripture therefore makes it very clear that Calvin did not blur the subject–object relationship of humankind and scripture; on the contrary, he viewed it in  all its nuances. This finding is reflected in his statement that it is better to limp along the path of faithfulness to scripture rather than to go astray on all other paths.10 The theologian, the ordained minister and the church community have to

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take this path, or else they will never reach their goal. That, indeed, was the decisive realization of young Calvin in the conspiratorial Bible study groups. When Calvin speaks of limping, rather than walking, along the path indicated by scripture, he underlines human individuality and failings even more clearly. After all, for him, people are never perfect and should do their utmost to avoid thinking they are. Nonetheless, it is up to them to pass judgement on theological teaching. And, for Calvin, it is clear that, in this process, theological teaching and church pronouncements have to be checked to ensure that they are in conformity with scriptural testimony. But, unlike Luther, he always describes scripture in this connection in objective, not subjective, terms.

2. Calvin’s consideration of the objectivity of scripture Scripture, as we have heard, is a path that people should walk; it is a guideline that they should follow, a light that makes orientation possible. If Christian life and theology are to be restored to their original purity, that is, purity in accordance with God’s Word, all doctrine and practice must be tested against scripture as against the Lydian stone.11 Hardly anything can better express the objectivity of scripture than the metaphor of a touchstone that theologians, church ministers and church communities should use as the foundation of their judgements. Calvin likewise uses an objective metaphor to describe the function of scripture with regard to the revelation of God in nature. He compares it to spectacles that we have to put on before we can see God’s true traces in the book of nature.12 Finally, mention should be made of the allegorical interpretation of the Bible. Calvin criticizes this because it makes scripture into a game that people can play as they like, or into a wax nose that can be reshaped this way or that, depending on personal taste.13 Toy and wax nose, these two metaphors are used by Calvin in his hermeneutics to argue against too soft an attitude to the objectivity of scripture on the part of the people subjectively interpreting it. Therefore, it is not surprising that Calvin does not mention Luther’s distinguishing hermeneutic principle in his own writings: scripture is its own interpreter, it interprets itself. The argument is not introduced into the Institutes, nor does it appear in his other important hermeneutic writings, such as the letter to the readers of the Institutes in 1539, his letter to Sadolet or his dedication to Simon Grynaeus in his commentary on the Epistle to the Romans.14



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There are two reasons why this is so:

(a) the importance of scholarly exegetes (b) the importance of church ministry More weighty reasons for not using the principle of self-interpreting scripture 1. The importance of scholarly exegetes Calvin knows that inadequate criticism of sources and texts, and scant consideration of the historical context in which a biblical text came into being are quite frequently the cause of misunderstandings of scripture. Both good philological work and good historical work are essential if a text is to be interpreted properly. However, this work is not carried out by scripture itself, but by the scholar acting as interpreter. The relationship between the material to be made comprehensible and the person interpreting it can never be such that the whole weight of interpretation lies on the side of the material. The weight of interpretation should continuously change sides: interpretation results from what the material itself says and what the interpreter makes of it using the hermeneutic means available. Calvin’s ideal of interpretation is certainly scholarly. It assigns an important, indeed an indispensable role to the exegete and to every trained theological interpreter. It may be assumed that Calvin chooses not to use the easily misunderstood principle of self-interpreting scripture so that the task of interpretation does not seem too easy, thus avoiding a certain degree of unscholarly behaviour. This corresponds very well to what is missing in Luther, according to Calvin: he lacks precisely that ideal of philological and historical exactness of interpretation that is Calvin’s own ideal.15

2. The importance of the church’s ministry Another reason why the principle of self-interpreting scripture is missing from Calvin’s work is that he links scriptural interpretation to a church group or community. Scripture that interprets itself basically has no need of such a community before it can be interpreted. It only needs to be distributed, in the proper translation, to everyone who can read. This would then itself convey the correct understanding of its content, without any other assistance. Such an attitude is completely foreign to Calvin. Although he rejects the claim of the Roman Catholic Church to be a community that interprets the

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Bible correctly, he endorses the need for an interpretation that is offered by the true church and its servants. In this point, too, he differed from the Luther of 1518–1523, who, as mentioned above, largely left out the issue of the ecclesiastical nature of interpretation, whereas Calvin had already paid great attention to the church’s ministry to the Word of God in the Institutes of 1536.16 In the Institutes of 1559, Calvin deals with the relationship between scripture and the church, mainly in Book IV Chapters 8 and 9. Here, Calvin wants to explain the external means or form of assistance by which God invites us into communion with Christ and there sustains us. He describes the church as such a means or form of assistance. There is no doubt that, first of all, this means a certain devaluing of ecclesiastical reality in contrast to the activity of God in his Word and through his Spirit. The salvation of humankind does not depend primarily on external means.17 God could also lead people to himself without a visible church.18 But, as a rule, he does not do so. Rather, for pedagogical reasons, he gives people external aids to belief. The church is certainly one of these, along with its organs. It would be an act of ingratitude not to use and respect them.19 In and through his church, God continually creates organs for preaching, which keep the gospel pure and teach believers the true doctrine. According to Calvin, it is now mainly the pastors and teachers who are the proper organs of the church and servants of the Word of God. In the church of old, it was the prophets, apostles and evangelists.20 Calvin sees them all as vicars of Jesus Christ, the one true teacher, and tools of the Holy Spirit.21 Thus, the church’s office of preaching and teaching has been assigned great authority and power, commensurate with the demand that the regularly appointed servants of the church be met with obedience, respect and love.22 Certainly, in stating this, Calvin is not abolishing the principle of faithfulness to the Word,23 but he can turn around the proposition that the church cannot exist without the gospel, and emphasize that without the church and its ministry of teaching there would be no preaching or teaching of the Word of God. This conviction is inherent in the warning not to scorn the forms of assistance that God has prepared for humankind.24 It culminates in the assumption that no salvation is possible outside the church.25 When this is linked with belief in the necessity of the Word of God for salvation, it means that the proclamation and interpretation of the Word may never be separated from the church.26 Calvin’s efforts to depict the prophets and the apostles as standing at one with the church show how important this aspect is to him.27 Although many



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of the prophets had good reason to protest at the decline of their church, they did not break with it. On the contrary, they expressed its true nature.28 Calvin clarifies this aspect impressively, using Paul as his example. Although his call comes from heaven, the Apostle still has someone who is a member of the church, first instruct him in the doctrine of salvation and then sanctify him by baptism.29 This underlines a clear difference in emphasis between Calvin and Luther in their understanding of the apostolic office. Luther, in the main, traces it back to revelation made without human or church mediation. Calvin, on the other hand, stresses both aspects: revelation, which cannot be channelled in any way, and mediation of the Word through the people and the church.30 Also, in Calvin’s view, the way that members of the community in the early church were elected for a particular preaching task already took place according to the regular order of ordination, which means through selection and the laying on of hands.31 In this, Calvin saw clear instructions: God wanted to know that his call was bound to a specific action on the part of the church. The same goes for the selection of the Apostle Matthew as a replacement for Judas. The choice was certified by heaven and, at the same time, complied with the ecclesiastical order.32 Accordingly, there is a relationship connecting the Word of God, proclamation of the gospel, church and office, which runs not only downwards but also upwards. Without the Word of God, there is no proclamation, no church, no office, but without the office, there can be no church and proclamation of the Word of God here on earth. Although it is clear that where the Word of God is not preached in its purity, the church is not intact, people will also not find true no proclamation in a place that is not appropriate for worship.33 In this connection, Calvin specifically rejects any private kind of biblical interpretation and, if there are any dogmatic disputes, he recommends a hearing before a synod of the bishops of the church and their judgement.34 Thus, the church acts through the work of its servants as the mother of all the faithful, the guide to the gospel, the teacher of the Christian way of life, the guardian, steward and distributor of the treasure that has been trusted to her, the Word of God: and when there are disputes the church acts as judge.35 With this understanding of church, is it any wonder that, for Calvin, preserving apostolic and pastoral ministry is as necessary for spiritual life as food and drink for the life of the body?36 Thus, the omission of the principle of self-interpreting scripture also goes back to the Geneva reformer’s interest in safeguarding the ecclesiastical nature of biblical interpretation. Scripture cannot interpret itself. On the contrary, for the interpretation that God wishes, it always needs the ecclesiastical and theological servants of the Word.

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Notes   1. M. Luther, ‘Defense and explanation of all the articles of Dr. Martin Luther which were unjustly condemned by the Roman Bull’, Luthers Works, Vol. 32, ed. G. W. Forell, Augsburg Fortress, Philadelphia 1958, 11f.   2. WA 7, 98.4-6: ‘Oportet enim scriptura iudice hic sententiam ferre, quod fieri non potest, nisi scripturae dederimus principem locum in omnibus quae tribuuntur patribus, hoc est, ut sit ipsa per sese certissima, facillima, apertissima, sui ipsius interpres, omnium omnia probans, iudicans et illuminans’. Ibid., 97.20-24. See also Walter Mostert, Scriptura sacra sui ipsius interpres. Bemerkungen zum Verständnis der Heiligen Schrift durch Luther, in: Lutherjahrbuch 46, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979, 60–96; Traugott Koch, ‘Was ist das spezifisch ‚Evangelische’ als das ‚Protestantische’? Vom Schriftprinzip zur Erkenntnis der christlichen Wahrheit, in: Protestantische Identität heute, ed. Friedrich Wilhelm Graf, Gütersloher Verlagshaus, Gütersloh 1992, 50f.   3. WA 7, 315.33-34. Cf. WA 7, 91-99.   4. Although Luther admitted that he would allow himself to be convinced by arguments that had been derived sensibly from scripture, and at first still cherished the hope that a General Council would be able to throw light on the dispute, this did not in fact work out – because ultimately he ascribed to himself the ability to judge the soundness of a theological argument and doubted the binding force of council decisions on doctrine. The following statements were declared to be false, according to Cajetan de Vio and the universities of Cologne and Louvain. They are closely based on Luther’s wording:



‘Via nobis facta est enervandi auctoritatem Conciliorum, et libere contradicendi eorum gestis, et iudicandi eorum decreta, et confidenter confitendi quidquid verum videtur, sive probatum fuerit, sive reprobatum a quocumque Concilio’ Cf. Heinrich Denzinger, Kompendium der Glaubensbekenntnisse und kirchlichen Lehrentscheidungen, Peter Hünermann, Herder, Freiburg 1999, Art. 1479, 491 and references to sources, ibid., 487. (‘The way has been opened for us to invalidate the authority of the councils, to contradict their statements, to judge their decrees and to recognise confidently whatever appears to be true, whether it has been approved or recognised by a council or not’. – our translation from German.)

  5. Cf. Wilhelm H. Neuser, Johann Calvin – Leben und Werk in seiner Frühzeit 1509–1541, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Göttingen 2009, 38–143, with a description of the groups and movements Calvin was in contact with until 1534.   6. CO 55,457: ‘Papistae identidem in ore habent, ecclesiam non posse errare. Interea praeterito verbo, illam regi a spiritu fingunt. Petrus autem contra, in tenebris demersos esse omnes pronuntiat qui non intenti sunt ad verbi lucernam. Ergo nisi sponte in labyrinthum coniicere te velis, cavendum summopere ne a verbi directione vel tantillum declines. Imo ecclesia non aliter ducem potest Deum sequi, nisi hunc regiminis modum observet. Hac quoque sententia totam hominum sapientiam damnat Petrus, ut aliunde quam ex proprio sensu petere humiliter discamus veram intelligendi regulam. Nam extra verbum nihil hominibus praeter tenebras reliquum facit. Praeterea notatu dignum est quod de scripturae claritate pronuntiat. Falsum enim esset encomium istud, nisi ad monstrandam certo nobis viam scriptura idonea et par esset. Ergo quisquis oculos fidei obedientia aperiet, ipso experimento agnoscet non frustra scripturae impositum fuisse lucernae nomen.



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Incredulis quidem obscura est, sed qui exitio devoti, sponte caecutiunt. Quare exsecrabilis est papistarum blasphemia, qui scripturae luce nihil quam oculos perstringi fingunt, ut ab eius lectione simplices absterreant. Sed nihil mirum est superbos homines et perversae confidentiae vento inflatos, eam lucem non videre qua Dominus solos parvulos et humiles dignatur’. CO 48,571: ‘Ostendit Deus quanta sit doctrinae suae perspicuitas’. Cf. CO 48,401; 28,547, 573, 578, 617 50,202; OS 1,139, 170, 250; 360.29-61.10, 432.31-37; 5,150.14-17.   7. CO 46,481: ‘Or donc quand nous lirons l’Escriture saincte, que nous trouverons des passages obscurs, et qui nous seront comme fermez, qu’il y aura quelque article qui nous empeschera que nous ne pourrons pas si bien digerer le reste comme nous voudrions, cognoissons neantmoins, que si nous sommes dociles à escouter ce qui nous sera apporté au nom de Dieu, et à le recevoir, et que nous le gardions en nostre coeur, qu’avec le temps nostre Seigneur monstrera que nous n`avons pas este frustrez quand nous avons este enseignez en son nom et par son commandement’.



(‘And so, therefore, when we read the Holy Scriptures and find obscure passages which are closed to us because there is some item that prevents us from being able to digest the remainder as we would like, we know nevertheless that, if we are humble about listening to what is being brought to us in God’s name, and if we receive it and keep it in our hearts, then in time our Lord will show us that we have not been frustrated when we have been taught in his name and at his command’. – our translation.)

  8. Cf. ibid.   9. Cf. OS 3,69.21-24; CO 28,617,618; 33,63; 48,451. 10. OS 3,63.31-64.3: ‘Sic enim cogitandum est: fulgorem divini vultus, quem et Apostolus inaccessum vocat (l. Tim 6,16), esse nobis instar inexplicabilis labyrinthi, nisi verbi linea in ipsum dirigamur; ut satius sit in hac via claudicare quam extra eam celerrime currere’. Calvin is referring here to: Augustinus, In Psat. 31, enarr. 2,4; MPL 36, 256–75, 260. 11. OS 1,465–466: ‘Si scivisses, vel dissimulare noluisses, spiritum ecclesiae praelucere ad patefaciendam verbi intelligentiam: verbum autem instar esse lydii lapidis, quo illa doctrinas omnes examinet, an ad istam adeo perplexam et spinosam quaestionem confugisses?’ CO 48, 400/401: ‘Scriptura enim vere lydius est lapis, ad quem examinandae sunt omnes doctrinae’. Cf. CO 30,89; OS 3,63. 31-64.2; 5.75.16-19, 152-5-7, 156.15-16, 161.1-5. Melanchthon and Luther were already able to use the expression ‘lydius lapis’ as a standard to measure the authenticity of scripture. Cf. MWA 18.4–6; WA DB 7,385,25-32. 12. ICR 1.6.1; OS 3,60.25-30: ‘…specillis autem interpositis adiuti, distincte legere incipiunt: ita Scriptura...verum Deum ostendit’. 13. Cf. CO 10b, 405; 6,268; 9,533; 26,282; 27,451; 28,547; 32,642; 33,523f.; 35,467; 37,145; 46,613.624; 51,834; 54,281f. 14. We have checked all the relevant passages in the Institutes using Ford Lewis Battles’ Concordance. See Battles: A Concordance of Calvin. Institutes of the Christian Religion, Pittsburgh, PA 1972, ‘interpres–interpretor’, ‘claritas’, ‘perspicuitas’. 15. CO 11,36: ‘Lutherus non adeo anxius de verborum proprietate aut historiae circumstantia, satis habet fructiferam aliquam doctrinam elicere’. CO 23,113: ‘Lutherus suo more ad externam spiritus iurisdietionem trahit, quam prophetarum ministerio exercet... Argute hoc quidem dicitur: sed quia ex incertis coniecturis

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non est petendus scripturae sensus, simpliciter interpretor,…’. Ibid., 170: ‘Lutheri divinatio, quod Deus oblivione sepelierit tempus illud, ut finem mundi nobis absconderet, primum frivola est: deinde solidis et claris argumentis refelli potest’. Ibid., 193: ‘Lutheri speculatio hic (ut aliis locis) nihil habet solidi, quod Deus per prophetam quempiam loquutus sit’. Cf. Dieter Schellong, Calvins Auslegung der synoptischen Evangelien, Kaiser, Munich 1969, 14. 16. OS 1,52/53: ‘Episcopi et ecclesiarum ministri fideliter verbi ministerio incumbant, nec salutis doctrinam adulterent, sed puram et sinceram populo Dei tradant, nec doctrina solum, sed vitae exemplo eum instituant, praesint denique ut boni pastores ovibus... Populus vicissim eos pro nunciis et apostolis Dei agnoscat, eum iis honorem reddat, quo Dominus eos dignatus est, quae eorum vitae necessaria sunt, praebeat…’. Cf. ibid., 212–18; Ganoczy, Le jeune Calvin, Steiner Franz, Wiesbaden 1966, 249–53; also, ‘Das Amt des Lehrens in der Kirche nach Calvin’, in: Lehramt und Theologie im 16. Jahrundert, Remigius Bäumer, Aschendorff, Munich 1976, 23. 17. OS 5,9.14–18: ‘Quare ne vicissim et nos obedienter amplecti pigeat salutis doctrinam eius mandato et ore propositam: quia etsi externis mediis alligata non est Dei virtus, nos tamen ordinario docendi modo alligavit’. Ibid., 43.1-3: ‘Posset id quidem vel per seipsum sine alio quovis aut adminiculo aut organo, vel etiam per Angelos facere; sed complures sunt causae cur per homines malit’. Cf. ibid., 11.7-11. 18. Cf. ibid., 6.18-23, 3.14-18, 8.6-8. In the first version of his Institutes, Calvin stressed the aspect of the invisibility of the church more strongly than in later editions. Bucer’s influence is unmistakeable in every instance. Cf. Stefan Scheld, Die Hermeneutik Calvins, Steiner Franz, Wiesbaden 1983, 87. 19. OS 5,9.9–14: ‘Quibus autem videtur ex hominum, qui ad docendum vocati sunt, contemptu exinaniri doctrinae authoritas, hi ingratitudinem suam produnt: quia inter tot praeclaras detes quibus ornavit Deus humanum genus, haec praerogativa singularis est, quod dignatur ora et linguas hominum sibi consecrare, ut in illis sua vox personet’. Cf. ibid., 9.2-6, 8.29–32.15-17. See also: Bucer, BDS 7,111.31112.3. 20. Cf. OS 5,45-47. 21. Cf. OS 5,8.15-17. 29-32, 8.39-9.6, 18.14-15, 42.21-29, 44.21-29; Bucer, BDS 7,111.31-112.3. 22. Calvin has already voiced these thoughts in the 1536 Institutes. Cf. OS 1.52-53, 87, 475; 5,8.23-29, 43.10-29, 44.37-39, 141.2-11. 23. OS 5,136.18-23: ‘Is qui unicus ae aeternus Patris consiliarius semper fuit, quique Dominus ac Magister omnium est constitutus a Patre, quia tamen docendi ministerio fungitur, ministris omnibus suo exemplo praescribit quam in docendo regulam sequi debeant. Non est igitur Ecclesiae potestas infinita, sed subiecta verbo Domini, et in eo quasi inclusa’. Cf. ibid., 141.16-21; OS 1,475/476. OS 5,152.2-7: ‘Nego in Christi nomine congregari eos qui abiecto Dei mandato, quo vetat quicquam addi verbo suo aut detrahi (Dt 4,2; Apk 22,18), proprio arbitrio quidvis statuunt: qui non contenti Scripturae oraculis, hoc est unica perfectae sapientiae regula, de suo capite novum aliquid comminiscuntur’. Cf. ibid., 147.26-148.3. 24. Cf. OS 5,9.9-14. 25. OS 5,7.12-16: ‘Adde quod extra eius gremium nulla est speranda peccatorum remissio, nec ulla salus, teste Iesaia (Jes 37,32) et Ioele (Joel 2,32); quibus subscribit Ezechiel, quum denuntiat in catalogo populi Dei non fore quos a caelesti vita abdicat (Ez 13,9)’. Cf. ibid., 4.4-6, 13.21-22; 5,1.10-18, 8.29-32. From this,



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it is possible to derive the hermeneutic, extra ecclesia nulla recta interpretatio. Cf. Denzinger/Schönmetzer (eds), Enchiridion symbolorum, definitionum et declarationum de rebus fidei et morum, Herder, Freiburg 1976, 1507. 26. Cf. OS 5,7.22-24. 27. Cf. ibid. 28. Cf. ibid. 29. Cf. OS 5,45.15-30. 30. For Luther, see WA 2, 304.9-15. By contrast, Calvin says of his activities in Ghent that they were legitimized by the divine call and by the proper order of inauguration into office. Cf. OS 1,45. 31. Cf. OS 5,54.19-55.4. 32. Cf. OS 5,55.4-9. 33. Cf. ibid. 1.10-24. 34. OS 5,161.8-18: ‘Nos certe libenter concedimus, siquo de dogmate incidat disceptatio, nullum esse nec melius nec certius remedium, quam si verorum Episcoporum synodus conveniat, ubi controversum dogma excutiatur. Multo enim plus ponderis habebit eiusmodi definitio inquam communiter Ecclesiarum Pastores, invocato Christi Spiritu, consenserint, quam si quisque seorsum domi conceptam populo traderet, vel pauci homines privati eam conficerent. Deinde ubi collecti in unum sunt Episcopi, commodius in comune deliberant quid sibi et qua forma docendum sit, ne diversitas offendiculum pariat’. Cf. OS 1,477. 35. Cf. OS 3,68.4-10; 5,7.5-11, 1.6-7, 8.6-11, 15.3-8, 161.8-37. Melanchthon had already named the church: mother, teacher, guardian and judge. Cf. MWA 1, 384.37-385.12. 36. OS 5,44.33-36: ‘Neque enim vel solis lumen ac calor, vel cibus ac potus tam sunt praesenti vitae fovendae ac sustinendae necessaria, quam est conservandae in terris Ecclesiae Apostolicum ac pastorale munus’.

Chapter 14

Public Responsibility – Introduction Michael Welker Calvin and Reformed theology have had a huge impact worldwide on politics, law, scholarship and the organization of life in society and civil society. This has been remarked and commented on with a mixture of enthusiasm and amazement. Part 3 of this book will give examples of this Wirkungsgeschichte, which is still going on. Dirkie Smit sheds light on what is perhaps the most problematic chapter in the recent history of Reformed thought: the partly disastrous, partly liberating role of the Dutch Reformed churches in the history of apartheid in South Africa. He describes the endeavour to provide a biblically founded justification of apartheid from a ‘love of neighbour’, focused especially on ‘self-love’ (‘Love your neighbour as yourself ’ [Mt. 19.19] – links the ‘lovecommand’ with a central motif of self-preservation). In so doing, Smit shows how this first led to a horrifying hard-line ideology. But, he also shows how this ideology of self-preservation (selfhandhawing) was cracked open by resistance based on Calvin’s exegesis, Reformed theology and the struggle for appropriate interpretation of scripture. It is a dramatic story of combating false prophecy and the right discernment of the spirits! Smit shows that problematic approaches, such as Niebuhr’s famous distinction between ‘moral man and immoral society’, can become dangerously attractive. On the basis of exegeses by Calvin, of theological precursors of the Belhar Confession (1982/86) and works by the Reformed philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff, he distinguishes between a eudaemonistic and a compassionate self-love, one that is motivated by the quest for personal happiness and one that cannot be defined without protection of the neighbour’s welfare. Finally, he recalls the future tasks posed by that age of political and moral failure in Reformed churches, but also the way in which Reformed theology is calling for public responsibility in the present day. Fulvio Ferrario considers Calvin’s eschatology in terms of its power to guide theology and social ethics. The eschatological perspective is largely blocked out in societies that concentrate on metaphysics and inwardness, if

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they have any religious orientation at all. People wish to live as long as possible and die as fast as possible. Ferrario shows how Calvin sees faith as able to accept the transience of life and fear of death, and wishes to enhance this ability. A basic feeling of modern humans, feeding on ‘fear of death and the urge to move’ (Dieter Henrich), could be purified by meditatio futurae vitae (meditation on the future life) and perhaps thus directed towards greater serenity and accountability. Ferrario touches on substantive theological questions (resurrection, redemption) without enlarging on them. His chapter makes clear, however, that we cannot deal with burning issues of social ethics and cultural critique without considering their religious and theological contexts. In his study of Calvin‘s interpretation of the church, Peter Opitz illuminates the great importance of professing faith, organizing life and celebrating the sacraments in Calvin’s ‘practical ecclesiology’. For Calvin’s teaching and practical church leadership, there is no faith without confession of faith, and confession requires spiritual formation, taking into account individual abilities. The confessing community is a ‘teaching and learning community’, from spiritual upbringing in the family to religious education at the Geneva collège (school) and theological training at the Geneva académie. Calvin was a man of great learning in the humanities, law, exegesis and theology, and he and his colleagues strove for a type of education that not only touched the heart, but also met the highest academic standards. For Calvin and for Reformed teaching, lifestyle is a function of community life, which develops on the pattern of the ‘body of Christ’. Although Calvin often uses firm, schoolmasterly language and although his practice of church discipline, particularly the excessive use of excommunication, rightly met with vehement criticism in his own time, many of his main ideas on building the ‘communion of the saints’ still make rewarding reading today. According to Opitz, his concentration on ‘the ministry of the Word of God’ and celebrating the sacraments is an indication that the church ‘in keeping with its “invisible” divine destiny, […] is moving forward on the way from the invisible election by God in Christ towards an audible and socially visible “communion of the saints”. The contribution of Michael Welker shows how the life and work of Calvin and the Reformers in favour of the separation of powers and a differentiated, non-hierarchically integrated interplay of religion, politics, law, scholarship and education pave the way towards modern, liberal societies. Calvin was confronted not just with the tension between the Roman Church and the Reformation movements. He also had to overcome the tensions between traditional education based on speculation and metaphysics and education guided by scripture. He constantly strove to strike the right balance between the competences of spiritual and secular government.



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The uncertainty associated with this balancing of power – often challenged by both sides – and the animated search for effective countervailing action may explain many of the unattractive features of the ‘Genevan Reformation’. Welker shows how, in the last chapter of his magnum opus, Calvin develops a ‘teaching on civil government’ that is still highly relevant today. His broad biblical, legal and humanist education allows him to take a multicontextual view, combining a clear theological and ethical stance with contextual sensitivity. Here, with all his trenchant rejection of anarchic developments, he developed an impressive doctrine of the right and even the duty to resist governments that constantly prevent and crush Christian worship, the exercise of justice and the protection of the poor. It becomes clear that the Reformation did not just spark off a liberating educational revolution – it also created the sensibility needed to form a liberal church patterned on the body of Christ and a community that follows, fosters and affirms this way of life, and is ready to learn from it.

Chapter 15

On Self-Love. Impulses from Calvin and Calvinism for Life in Society? Dirkie Smit I would like to comment only on the question mark in the topic – and raise several questions for our discussion hidden within that question mark, questions integral to the ongoing debates since Calvin, integral to the ‘historically extended and socially embedded argument within the Reformed tradition about the very goods that constitute that tradition’ (adapting Alasdair MacIntyre’s description of a living tradition). Of course, it can be demonstrated historically and argued systematically that life in society is integral to the Reformed vision and faith. The Yale historian Jaroslav Pelikan claimed that the most distinctive Calvinist characteristic lay in ‘the question of whether, and how, the law of God revealed in the Bible … was to be obeyed in the political and social order’. This characteristic Reformed conviction, he added, ‘was to be of farreaching historical significance, for it decisively affected the political and social evolution of the lands that came under the sway of Calvinist churchmanship and preaching’. While opinions differ deeply on whether and when and why this ‘far-reaching historical significance’ was for better or for worse, most observers agree that such an impulse to make a difference to public life indeed belongs to the Reformed vision – which raises the question whether this is still possible under contemporary conditions, whether it is indeed still possible today to be Reformed, in this way? South African history provides one of the most dramatic recent case studies of the ambiguity of this ‘far-reaching historical significance’ of the Reformed legacy for public life. The well-known story of twentiethcentury apartheid and of the struggle against apartheid has indeed often also – of course, in addition to other possible accounts – been told as a story of a ‘historically extended and socially embedded argument within the Reformed tradition’, an argument between Kuyper and Kuyper, between Kuyper and Barth, between Calvin and Calvinism. As strange and almost far-fetched as this may sound, the apartheid history became possible



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because of the ‘far-reaching historical significance’ of the Reformed faith in public life in South Africa. It is impossible to understand fully the development and the popularity and impact of the apartheid ideology without taking into account the role of the Reformed Churches from Dutch origin, as the respected historian Hermann Giliomee convincingly demonstrates in his authoritative study on The Afrikaners. In the hard-line theological justification of apartheid, appeals to Calvinism played a crucial role. At the same time, it is also impossible to understand the full story of the struggle against apartheid without appreciating the role of religious convictions and actors, including Reformed convictions and figures claiming their Reformed heritage, as the well-known church leader and social critic Allan Boesak argues in his provocative study called The Tenderness of Conscience. African Renaissance and the Spirituality of Politics. In the church struggle against the apartheid ideology and policy, appeals to Calvin and the Reformed faith were at the very heart. Could we perhaps learn anything from such an ambiguous legacy about Calvinist impulses for life in society? It is not necessary to recount the whole history here. Simply recalling five specific incidents very briefly, each one linked to a particular person, publication or event, may hopefully be helpful to unpack at least some of the questions behind the question mark.

Self – and neighbour? In August 1974, the Dutch Reformed systematic theologian from Stellenbosch, Willie Jonker, published a series of two contributions in Die Kerkbode, the official journal of the (white) Dutch Reformed Church (DRC), on ­‘Selfliefde en Selfhandhawing’, self-love and self-preservation. The notion of selfhandhawing, self-preservation, was an extremely loaded term at the time, deeply emotional and rhetorically powerful in public and political discourse, a shibboleth in the apartheid ideology. Self-handhawing stood for apartheid, for the ideology justifying the whole apartheid worldview and reality, for the divine calling of white Afrikaners to preserve and to treasure, to protect and to assert, to keep and to secure everything that made them separate and different, their language and culture, their history and destiny, their blood and land, their freedom and future. Within apartheid circles, it would be dangerous, subversive, even a form of betrayal to critique, even to question, this central concern of the apartheid worldview. The justification and defence of apartheid against its critics, both inside and outside South Africa, rested largely on the argument that the Afrikaners have the right as a volk to preserve themselves and their ‘identity’ – in a very controversial speech

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in parliament in April 1969, the former National Party minister and later right-wing political leader Albert Hertzog even distinguished between white ‘liberal English-speaking people’ and so-called ‘Calvinist Afrikaners’, to the effect that, according to him, they did not really belong together as one ‘nation’. It is surprising, according to Jonker, that so many people still in a confusing way claim that the Bible commands us to love ourselves and to preserve ourselves. They base their claim on the words in the double commandment of love, that we should love our neighbour ‘as yourself ’. They conclude from these words that we are commanded to love ourself, that self-love is in fact our first moral responsibility (eerste sedelike plig), and that love of self should be the norm (maatstaf) for our love of neighbour. It is not difficult to see, he continues, how such an interpretation can serve to comfort many people who love themselves already almost without restraint (mateloos), as is, in general, the case in our sinful world, with the idea that they are still on the proper and Christian path. The care for themselves, the improvement (uitbouing) of themselves and the preservation of themselves with everything that they regard as ‘their own’ (‘hulle eie’ – another key term in the apartheid vocabulary) then all become elementary duties. Of course, no one will deny that the neighbour should also appear in the picture, not even that we should grant (gun – yet another key apartheid expression) them everything that we also have and first claim for ourselves. However, he argues, in practice it often leads to the result that love for the neighbour is limited (begrens) by our love of self, and only begins when we have done the necessary to fulfil the duty of our love of self. Both these ideas – of ‘granting’ the other and of the distinction between what we say and what happens ‘in practice’ – have been of great significance, raising questions of their own, to which we shall have to return, but it is first important to stay somewhat longer with Jonker’s comments on self-love. He immediately appeals to Calvin’s exegesis of the love commandment. Since human beings are naturally prone to excessive self-love, according to Calvin, there was no need of a law to inflame a love already existing in excess (Inst. 2 8.54). Christ simply departs from what we already have, and ‘transfers to others the love which we naturally feel for ourselves’, ‘there being no feeling in our nature of greater strength and vehemence’. For Calvin, explains Jonker, love of self is simply in our blood, like instincts of sex and hunger – in themselves not wrong or unnatural, but integral parts of our being created, natural, human. Yet, they do not need to be commanded. On the contrary, in our perverted world, these urges and desires must rather all come under the reign of the Spirit of God, they must come under the discipline of the love of God and neighbour, and this is what Jesus is accomplishing in the double commandment. Jesus, according to Calvin, is



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therefore not saying that the first commandment and our primary moral responsibility is to love ourselves. ‘He does not (as some sophists have stupidly dreamed) assign the first place to self-love, and the second to charity’. He does not make self-love the norm and measure. ‘The Lord did not make self-love the rule, as if love towards others was subordinate to it’. He did not restrict neighbourly love by our calling to love ourselves. It is perfectly plain, Calvin claims, that the observance of the commandment consists not in the love of ourselves, but in the love of God and our neighbour; and that they lead the best and holiest life who as little as may be study and live for themselves; and that none lives worse and more unrighteously than they who study and live only for themselves, and seek and think only of their own (Inst. 2 8.54).

Still following Calvin, and making extensive use of New Testament material, Jonker then develops several practical implications. In the biblical traditions, love is characterized by koinonia, communion, fellowship, community, which makes self-love a somewhat strange idea. This is precisely the difference between Christian love and the Stoic notion of love, so popular during the time of Paul. Christian love is not self-preservation (selfhandhawing) and self-fulfilment (selfverwerkliking), but the unrestricted directedness towards (ongereserveerde gerigtheid op) the neighbour. It is for this reason that Jesus could make such radical remarks concerning self-denial and crucifying oneself. According to the New Testament, the love towards Jesus relativizes all love for one’s own. The rule of God’s reign is that self-love leads to loss of life and self-destruction. Those who desperately cling to their own lives, will lose their life, and those who lose themselves for the sake of Christ, will find life. The self-denial to which the Bible calls us is not only directed towards God, he says, but also towards our neighbour – and Calvin wrote most movingly (verruklik) about this, because of his deep insight into the scriptures. Jonker discusses the parable of the Samaritan (Luke 10) and Jesus’ encounter with the rich young man (Luke 18), but also the self-emptying of Philippians 2, the following of Jesus in 1 Peter 2 and the washing of the feet and the new commandment in John 13. According to the New Testament, he says, it is not by far our self-love that should be the norm and measure of our neighbourly love, since it is the love of Christ that should serve as norm and measure. For the New Testament, this does not at all mean the ‘liquidation’ of the self (another loaded political term of the time, referring to collective self-destruction of the volk), since it is precisely in being liberated from the deadly incurvatus in se (moordende ingekeerdheid in jouself) and the boundless enslavement (matelose verknogtheid) to what we call ‘our own’ that we become truly human and really free.

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In a remarkable conclusion, Jonker speaks about ‘false prophecy’. Those who say that the Bible commands self-love will probably claim that they also agree with all that he has said, based on Calvin’s reading of the New Testament, but he is not convinced. He would like to believe them, but then it would be best for them to stop using the term self-love, since it can only create ‘misunderstanding’ – and in the light of human sin, we must try not to contribute to such misunderstanding. After all, self-love is also the essence and heart (wese en innerlike kern) of sin; the incurvatus in se that Luther described. In a world that is sick because of self-love, we should be careful not to use language that would strengthen people in their sin and evil – people who already, in the strongest of self-love, seek themselves continuously, refusing fellowship with their neighbours and refusing to accept them as their fellow human beings – instead of rather unmasking their wickedness. It is clear that his point is rhetorical and contextual, not timeless and universal. It is in the light of ‘the time’, it is because of the spirit in the air, that it is so crucial how we speak about self-love. We encourage people to continue in their sin and evil, when we speak about self-love in such a way that they may think that they are on the Christian way when they live only for themselves and for their own. With our language of self-love, we so easily stimulate the sinful idea that material earthly things like culture and descent have absolute value. We caress those who focus only on the earth and the flesh, yet believe that our words about self-love provide them a Christian foundation to stand on in their service of self alone. This is false prophecy, he says, speaking what may be true in itself at the wrong time and the wrong place to the wrong audience. In our whole world, he says, love of self, care for self and preservation of self reigns in unbridled fashion. Mea, mea est, cries everyone (Luther). This is not how we have come to know Jesus Christ, and ‘this time’ – the heyday of the apartheid ideology, although he does not use the term at all – does not need the message of self-love and self-preservation, but of the love of Jesus Christ. Although Jonker made no reference at all to apartheid, the rhetorical point was absolutely clear. Published in the official journal of the DRC, appealing to Calvin’s understanding of the Bible, it was a frontal attack on the very heart of the ideology. Almost immediately, in September 1974, the DRC systematic theologian from Pretoria, Johan Heyns, without mentioning Jonker or referring to his contributions, replied, arguing for the legitimacy and importance of self-love and self-preservation. He does not refer to Calvin and although he uses references to scripture, his argument is not based on sustained exegesis, but on a philosophical construct, the construct typical of some Calvinist philosophical strands in South Africa. His essay is



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called ‘Die mens in verhouding tot homself   ’ (‘The human person in relation to himself ’) and it rests on the argument that human beings live in a number of foundational relationships, namely, to God, to one’s neighbour, to nature, to culture, to the structures in which one lives and to oneself. This last relationship is very important, and since misunderstandings concerning this relationship can so easily occur, this is the theme of his paper, he explains. The fact that it is a response to Jonker, addressing even some of the detail of Jonker’s argument and using many of his expressions and examples, is unmistakably clear for every reader of Die Kerkbode to see, although it is never acknowledged. Human relationships do not only involve relationships to the outside, but also inward, to oneself, Heyns argues. This relationship should not be regarded as sick; on the contrary, it is the result of our being created by God in the image of God. Being human (menswees) involves not only openness to the (O)ther, but also being-oneself (selfwees) and remaining-oneself (selfbly) – both these words are created for the purposes of the argument, they are not known in everyday Afrikaans. Being created in the image of God involves a form of existence (bestaanswyse) that can be compared with the being of God. Although we know practically nothing about the inner-tri­ nitarian life of God, we do know that it is a life of consultation (beraad), of unity and of love, and in the same way, our life is a life of self-awareness and self-knowledge, of positive self-acceptance, of taking responsibility for oneself (selfverantwoording), of self-development and self-fulfilment (selfontplooiing). All of this has got nothing to do with sickly narcism and with doubtful egolatry, but rather with ‘a certain pride and joy’ in appealing to one’s own being created by God, with ‘a sense of own worth, founded in one’s being human (menswees)’. All the positive forms of self-affirmation are therefore ‘rooted in love, in this Christian, responsible self-love’; they are all ‘manifestations of the true love of self ’. Against this philosophical background, he can now deal with ‘arguments according to which self-love is not a positive Biblical command’. It is false to claim that love needs an object, since it is ‘the miracle of being human’ (die wonder van menswees) that one can distance one from oneself and make oneself one’s own object (teenoor, Gegenüber). It is false to claim that selflove contradicts the virtues of self-denial and self-sacrifice, since one only has something to sacrifice if one loves oneself. It is false to claim that love of self is wrong because we are sinners, since we should hate the sin but not oneself as creature. Having disposed of these false arguments warning us against self-love, he can turn to the positive content of the commandment that we should love ourselves. In the words of Jesus ‘as yourself ’, we indeed receive a criterion. In no way does this mean that I should love my neighbour in the same way (op dieselfde wyse) in which I love myself. I can never love my

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neighbour like this. The criterion does not refer to the modus of our love, but to the factus of our love, not to the how, but to the that, and it refers to the ground of our love, to the why. Therefore, ‘as myself ’ means that I should love my neighbour for Christ’s sake and I should love myself for Christ’s sake – and of course I could never and should never love my neighbour as in the sense of in the same way that I love myself. I love my neighbour for Christ’s sake, and I love myself for Christ’s sake. In this way, love for neighbour and love for self are linked (in the norm: for Christ’s sake), but at the same time separated from one another (teenoor mekaar afgegrens) (in their way and in their measure; I love my neighbour, and I love me), without contradicting each other in principle. Of course, there is a wrong form of self-love, Heyns says, namely, when I love myself the way I should love only God, with all my heart and all my soul, egoistically, in a form of ‘exclusive focus’ (gerigtheid) on the self. Like Jonker, with his reference to false prophecy and the spirit of the time, Heyns concludes with an unspoken reminder to readers of the immediate political thrust of his argument. The real meaning of the commandment to love ourselves lies in the plural. We have spoken until now – he remarks – about self-love in the singular, but it can and must of course be broadened to the plural as well. If I love me, then also mine: my household, my family, my volk and land, my language and culture. Precisely this is for example the element of truth in national socialism: no human being stands indifferent over against his land and volk, his race and his soil (bodem). Of course, precisely in the light of the love command, national socialism is also rejected, because the focus on the own became too exclusive, so that the other – volk and race – disappeared completely, at least as entities with their own dignity, which should also be objects of love. This is indeed a false and dangerous form of self-love. So, he concludes, wherever the ground and norm of love, namely, for Christ’s sake, is present, self-love is the proper attitude of the citizen of the kingdom. In October 1974, immediately after this polemic, the General Synod of the DRC accepted their well-known report called ‘Ras, Volk, Nasie en Volkereverhoudinge in die lig van die Skrif ’ (translated as Menschliche Beziehungen der Völkerschaften Süd-Afrikas im Lichte der Heiligen Schrift). A policy of separate development can be justified in the light of scripture, it said, as long as the commandment to love the neighbour is followed as the ethical norm applying to the correct relationships between different ethnic groups (Par 49.6). The study was described by J. J. F. (Jaap) Durand, systematic theologian from the (then) Dutch Reformed Mission Church and teaching at the University of the Western Cape, as being based on ‘a hermeneutic of race’. The historical significance of the polemic between the two most



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respected theologians in the DRC is obvious. It would have been disastrous for the argument of Ras, Volk, Nasie if Jonker’s appeal to Calvin would have been allowed to go unopposed. This is not the place to try to solve the exegetical and theological controversy over Jesus’ commandment. The modest purpose is simply to raise our awareness of some of the questions hidden in the question mark of the topic. Calvin’s scepticism about interpretations of the double commandment of Jesus as if it were, in fact, a threefold command has come under widespread critique, from many perspectives and for many reasons – from Catholic circles, from Lutheran circles, from black and feminist circles, but also from within Calvinist circles. His criticism of the understanding of the words ‘as yourself ’ as a third and separate command to love ourselves first, as our primary moral responsibility, has been fiercely rejected, ridiculed, attributed to his tragic personality and portrayed as sick and causing sickness. His understanding of the Christian life as not belonging to ourselves, his views on Christian love as sacrificial and his language of self-giving, self-emptying and self-denial are all commonly critiqued as no longer useful and justifiable – also within the circles of respected and leading Calvinist ethicists. In contemporary ethical literature on love and self-love, Calvin is more than often the villain in the tale. From a South African perspective, however, it seemed – at least for some – that there may indeed be some truth and power in his position, at least under certain circumstances and conditions. If one would take Calvin’s and Jonker’s deliberate rhetorical awareness and purposes seriously, could it perhaps be possible to agree on a bare minimum, acknowledging that there may perhaps be specific circumstances, particular socio–historical conditions, ‘times’, when a discourse stressing self-love as a positive command may – at least – be dangerous, since it may contribute to justify ideological convictions and to comfort and reassure people who are in fact not following the commandment truthfully? But should it be possible to agree on this, how would we know when such conditions have arisen, when Calvin’s warnings may indeed be relevant again? How shall we be able to discern, to read the signs of the times? How do we determine when calls for self-love are themselves sick and causing sickness, and when such calls are indeed legitimate and even very necessary? Perhaps some further experiences from our South African story may prove helpful.

Grant – and give? Probably the best study available on the theology of apartheid and on the involvement of the church in the development and justification of

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apartheid is still the volume edited by Johann Kinghorn, Die NG Kerk en apartheid. He describes the ethics of apartheid – quite rightly – as ‘an ethics of granting-the-other’. This is the first of the key apartheid notions that Jonker also referred to. During the 1940s, says Kinghorn, the wellknown motto ‘grant (gun) to others whatever you also grant yourself ’ became a cliché, a refrain in all the apartheid literature of the time – and since then. Meeting after meeting, conference after conference, document after document, study after study, this refrain appears again and again. Kinghorn calls this ‘the apartheid ethics’. It is useless to speculate after the fact how honestly those who justified apartheid in this way really meant their own claims and whether they actually also believed what they said. More important is to see that this was integral to the official defence and public justification of apartheid, even by theologians and church leaders in the ecumenical encounters. Apartheid was precisely a serious attempt to fulfil the love commandment, also to love one’s neighbour, was the argument, since it was an attempt to grant to everyone else what one also desires and claims for oneself, or in other words, loving others as one loves oneself – it was said. The unspoken suspicion and sometimes the outspoken accusation from the side of the ecumenical church, including the broader Reformed family, that apartheid was a refusal to practice the love commandment was therefore fundamentally mistaken, uninformed, unfair, biased, even malicious – or such it was claimed, again and again. Perhaps one incident can illustrate the point. In  1968, the Reformed Ecumenical Synod during their meeting in Lunteren, in the Netherlands, accepted a report regarding the ‘racial issues’ in South Africa and the role of the Reformed faith. In March 1970, the Reformed Churches in the Netherlands, during their General Synod also meeting in Lunteren, also accepted that report and, based on that, sent a letter to the Dutch Reformed complaining about the DRC’s role and position. At the heart of their criticism was the claim that white Reformed believers and churches ‘preserve their own privileged position at the cost of their fellow human beings’. In an official letter, also immediately published in the Afrikaans media in South Africa – because it was of such crucial ideological importance to reassure local church members that the criticism from the Reformed family abroad is false and uninformed and need not give rise to any concern and self-doubt – the leadership of the DRC deeply regretted the fact that the Reformed family once again levelled the same question and complaint, since it was so obviously not true. We regret the fact that you once again come with the question whether the aspiration after self-preservation (streven naar zelfbehoud) and the protection of one’s own privileged position at the cost of fellow human beings can be in accordance



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with the demands of Scripture and the social justice commanded by Scripture, especially since our delegation has assured you so repeatedly (ten overvloede) that this is not at all the case.

Why not? The answer is obvious: because they grant others whatever they desire and claim for themselves, exactly according to scripture. ‘You cannot deny that we have a right to self-preservation (‘n reg op selfbehoud), but we accept that self-preservation can only be justified before God and our conscience if we grant the same to all our population groups in our country’ (Die Burger, 22 May 1970). In fact, ‘as Church we still regard it as our highest calling to continuously keep our government informed about whatever would contradict these principles’, they say. They fail to see how the Reformed world cannot agree with them in this, and therefore they warn the other Reformed churches of the ‘powerful influences of the nonReformed churches in the World Council of Churches’. Kinghorn attempts to be careful and fair in his evaluation of this apartheid-ethics-of-granting-the-other. One can claim with full conviction, he says, that the DRC never intended a life of oppression and inferiority for black people in South Africa, but rather regarded apartheid as a policy of liberation (‘n bevrydingsbeleid) – also for black people. A serious attempt to care for the needs of others and to grant them whatever you claim for yourself, is after all nothing to feel ashamed about, he says. Still, he continues, it is impossible to be only positive about the so-called good intentions of the past, because there were fundamental shortcomings in the ethics itself. He describes it as ‘only half a norm’ – but why? In a very important way, he says, the ethics of grant-the-others is a departure from the fundamental biblical principle found in Mt. 7.12 and Lk. 6.31, where we are called to do unto others what we want them to do unto us. The rule of the Bible is a rule of conduct. The rule of the ethics of apartheid, on the contrary, is a rule of attitude. The latter grants, the former does. Between these two words lies a difference that can never be overestimated. No one made this more clear than James, he says. It does not help to tell others to go and get warm, if we do not provide in what they need. The emphasis of the ethical rule to which the apartheid ethics wants to appeal lies, at least in its full scriptural form, with the deed. The crucial question therefore was: What happened to those to whom so much was granted? Or to put it differently, he says, was whatever was granted to others actually done to them? No one should excuse themselves by pointing to what happened in practice, he adds, since ‘practice is just another word for ourselves and what we do. If we allow practice, that means ourselves, to be guided by the ethical rule of grant-the-other, then this is precisely what happens. We grant others a lot, but we do very little about it’.

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Could this perhaps offer us a first clue? Could it be that the language of self-love, with all its (legitimate) praise of self-fulfilment and self-preservation, should be evaluated against the actual results of such language, rather than just in the light of its own claims to include love for the others? Could it be that the language of self-love should be measured against the real impact of such interpretations of Jesus’ commandment on public and political life?

Private – and public? This, however, immediately points towards a further difficult question hidden behind the question mark, related to the problematic distinction between private and public, between personal and political, between individual and social. Again, a particular reminder from the Reformed experience in South Africa may perhaps be instructive. Hermann Giliomee, author of the major historical study on The Afrikaners, remarks with some surprise that many Reformed theologians have influenced the ongoing debates in South African circles, but not the North American Reformed theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, while he is of the opinion that things could have been very different if Niebuhr had indeed been taken more seriously. Why would he say this? What could Niebuhr’s understanding of Calvin and the Reformed tradition have contributed? Perhaps he is thinking about the question that Niebuhr already raised in 1932 in a classic way in his study of Moral Man and Immoral Society, the question concerning the fundamental differences between individuals and groups, like people and nations. Niebuhr’s conviction was that ‘a sharp distinction must be drawn between the moral and social behavior of indivi­ duals and of social groups, national, racial, and economic; and that this distinction justifies and necessitates political policies which a purely individualistic ethic must always find embarrassing’. Individuals are, sometimes, able to overcome excessive self-love in order to love and serve others, but groups and nations are not. Individuals may be moral in the sense that they are able to consider interests other than their own in determining problems of conduct, and are capable, on occasion, of preferring the advantages of others to their own … But all these achievements are more difficult, if not impossible, for human societies and social groups. In every human group, there is less reason to guide and to check impulse, less capacity for self-transcendence, less ability to comprehend the needs of others and therefore more unrestrained egoism than the individuals, who compose the group, reveal in their personal relationships.



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It would have been helpful if the Reformed faith in South Africa could have seen these challenges and questions more clearly, seems to be Giliomee’s point. Expressed in his own words: Niebuhr’s key insight was that man as an individual may treat a member of another group in a civil way, but as part of a nation, or an ethnic or racial group or a class he is a different animal. He tends to insist on tough methods to advance the cause of his nation, ethnic group or class, he believes in the righteousness of its cause and will yield only if sufficient power is raised against it. Any idea that the power struggle could somehow be finessed and that people will listen to appeals to “reason” or the “broader principles of cooperation” will fall on stony ground until the power balance tilts.

According to Giliomee, Jan Smuts, the prime minister who suffered defeat from the first apartheid government in 1948, already saw this as ‘the ­essential paradox’ of the apartheid system, allowing on the one hand for ‘individual kindness and compassion’, yet on the other hand causing the same people to be ‘cruel and callous when they acted collectively to secure Afrikaner survival’. He quotes Smuts, who wrote, ‘I do not think people mean evil, but they thoughtlessly do evil. In public life they do things which they would be incapable of in private life’. According to Giliomee, this was ­precisely the insight of Reinhold Niebuhr, ‘the leading and most original Protestant writer on what one could call applied Christianity in the USA during the twentieth century’, namely, that ‘social evils were rooted in the conflict between human beings’ collective behaviour and the morals of the individual life’. In other words, does it make sense at all to apply Jesus’ love command to the public sphere, to the social world, to the life of communities, groups, nations, races, civilizations? Are we not naïve and unrealistic in doing that? Niebuhr seemed to have been of that opinion. Again, in Giliomee’s words: In developing his creed of political realism, Niebuhr had little time for the idealists in the church whose approach to politics was to deprecate all conflict, to discourage people from mobilization and to continue to preach brotherly love. For him justice depends on some balance of power. Without it even the most loving relationships may degenerate into unjust relations, with love becoming the screen that hides injustice.

In Niebuhr’s own words, his ‘polemic interest’ was directed against ‘the moralists, both religious and secular, who imagine that the egoism of individuals (can be) progressively checked’. All such ‘social analyses and prophecies made by moralists, sociologists and educators upon the basis of these assumptions lead to a very considerable moral and political confusion in our day’. They completely

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disregard the ‘political necessities’ in the ‘struggle’ in human society. In short, they are not realistic enough. Translated in terms of our question mark, whatever the double commandment of Jesus might mean, it does not work that way in human societies and in public and political life. The Reformed faith should learn to understand and accept that reality. According to Niebuhr, Protestantism, including Calvinism, should surrender all liberal optimism in the face of the harsh realities of corporate power in industry and politics. They should be aware of the pervasive power of ‘self-deception and hypocrisy’ at work in our moral lives, including in ‘the dishonesty of nations’. Nations perform acts of corporate self-interest to the disadvantage of others, but disguise this selfishness behind the disguise of altruism, ‘for the benefit of our people’. The same is true of social classes, religious communities, families and all kinds of collectivities – religious groups may even inspire their followers to ‘preoccupation with the self ’. In his Gifford Lectures in Edinburgh during 1941 and 1942, published as the two-volume The Nature and Destiny of Man, Niebuhr would further pursue some of these themes, speaking about the ‘egotism’ and the ‘group pride’ of communities, and reflecting on human pride, will-to-power, injustice, selfglorification and greed. He analyses the egotism of racial, natural and socioeconomic groups, arguing that ‘the group is more arrogant, hypocritical, self-centred and more ruthless in the pursuit of its ends than the individual’. The real challenge for Christian ethics therefore lies in engaging public and political life, the realities of selfishness and power – so, can an impulse from Calvin and Calvinism help us in any way? Again, the present purpose is not to evaluate the positions of Reinhold Niebuhr – who is almost as controversial as Calvin and has received his own fierce criticism from many perspectives. The purpose is only to see some of the difficult questions involved when we ask whether an impulse from the legacy of Calvin can make a difference to our life in society, today. Jonker – somewhat in the spirit of Barth? – clearly thought that the commandment of Jesus is indeed applicable to social, public and political life, and therefore the collective self-preservation at the very heart of apartheid was to be unmasked and rejected. Heyns – somewhat in the spirit of Kuyper? – obviously agreed that the commandment is applicable, but thought that the collective self-preservation at the heart of apartheid was justified in the light of the commandment that we should first love ourselves, that our primary moral responsibility is to love ourselves in the plural of what is ‘ours’, land, volk, language, culture. Would it have been better if they both took another Reformed voice more seriously, namely, Niebuhr’s reminders and warnings that the language of love is not the right language for the real world of public and political power struggles, and that the language of justice is more applicable?



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Love – and justice? For Niebuhr, the right language for the real world of public and political power struggles was the language of justice. In the public sphere, in our social life, the private language of love must be translated into the language of justice – but what does that mean? After all, both the struggle for and against apartheid were struggles for justice – but justice understood in very different ways. In all the many justifications for apartheid – philosophical, political, biblical, theological, ideological – over many years this sounds like a refrain. ‘Separate development’ – the preferred term for apartheid in its own ranks – was intended and proclaimed as an attempt to do justice, to the right to survival (voortbestaan) and self-determination (selfbeskikking) of each volk and culture, and this was understood to be the Calvinist calling. The former pastor and church leader, later newspaper editor and respected leader in the circles of right-wing politics, Andries Treurnicht, for example, famously formulated these ideas in his book called Credo van ‘n Afrikaner (Credo of an Afrikaner). Separate development is the most suitable policy to guarantee self-­ determination and orderly social life together (naasbestaan) for the different peoples of Africa. If it is done with a Christian sense of calling and love of neighbour, while we guard with care over our own Afrikaner identity, all of this is the fruit of the Calvinist principle of reconciled diversity (samehangende verskeidenheid). Probably the best known and most respected Afrikaans poet, literary critic and public intellectual at the time, N. P. van Wyk Louw, raised the critical question whether ‘survival with justice’ (voortbestaan in geregtigheid) was indeed possible – and in many ways this became the most important question haunting Afrikaner intellectual and public life for decades. ‘What moral right has a small nation to wish for survival as a nation?’ asked Van Wyk Louw, and spoke about a people standing ‘before the last temptation: to believe that bare survival is preferable to survival in justice. This is the lasting temptation awaiting a volk in their desert days … I believe that this is the …. “dark night of the soul” in which a volk says: I would rather perish than survive through injustice … How can a small volk survive for long if it has something hateful and evil for the best within – and without – it?’ Finally, this was the subversive question, the ultimate threat, the nagging inner doubt of apartheid believers: Is our attempt to secure collective survival really an attempt to practice justice, in public life, or is it only a selfish striving? Is survival with justice, voortbestaan in geregtigheid, possible – or not? This became the controversy over decades. The struggle against apartheid was also seen as a struggle for justice – but once again, what kind of justice? Again, an illustration may perhaps be

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instructive. The Reformed philosopher from the United States, Nicholas Wolterstorff, has always had a close relationship with South Africa and his work and thought made a strong impact on many in South African circles – especially his thought on justice. In 1983, Wolterstorff published his Until Justice and Peace Embrace and dedicated it to his friend, the South African Reformed minister and church leader and leading figure in the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, Allan Boesak. Some time later, he published a moving essay on Calvin’s understanding of justice, called ‘The wounds of God: Calvin’s theology of social justice’, followed by several essays on the links between Reformed worship, holiness and justice, and in  2008, he published a comprehensive study on Justice. Rights and Wrongs. He begins and ends this study with references to South Africa. In the preface, he explains why he cares about a theory of justice by telling his personal story of encounters with injustice in the form of the wrong, in the form of victims, in South Africa, during a meeting of Reformed scholars in Potchefstroom, in 1976. In the epilogue, he concludes with reflections on the stories of atrocities narrated before the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, as found in Antjie Krog’s account in Country of My Skull. In a very definitive way, his book on Justice is a response to questions raised by the South African experience and the involvement of the Reformed faith. So, what is justice? Wolterstorff’s argument is detailed and complex, both narrative and historical as well as analytical and theoretical, and it is here only possible to follow one strand of his thought with a view to a better understanding of our question mark. On the whole, his book is an argument for the wronged of the world by providing a particular account of justice, namely, a defence – both narrative and systematic – of inherent, natural human rights. According to him, there are only two possible accounts of justice, namely, theories of justice as right order and theories of justice as rights. Over against the dominance of contemporary theories of justice as right order, he argues for a theory of justice as inherent natural rights. The dominant historical account claims that rights theories are the result of a story of decline, perhaps beginning with seventeenth-century philosophical individualism, perhaps even beginning with fourteenth-century nominalism, but in any case a narrative of decline since the times when theories of justice as right – and not as rights – were commonly accepted. Wolterstorff tells a counter-narrative, offering a radically different historical account. According to his story, the recognition of not only natural rights but, in fact, of inherent natural rights – which means rights not merely socially conferred – goes back to the scriptures themselves. Integral to his story is not only the claim that inherent natural rights were already assumed in the scriptures, but also the claim that they did not have any place in the eudaemonism that characterized the ethical thought of Greek and Roman



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antiquity, and that they, therefore, had to be reclaimed in the history of Christian thought – which happened, according to his account, when Augustine broke with eudaemonism, making the incursion of the moral vision of scripture into late antiquity possible. For present purposes, the question is why – according to Wolterstorff – a conception of justice as inherent natural rights is not possible on any eudaemonistic position, and what precisely changes when the moral vision of scripture challenges and replaces eudaemonistic viewpoints? The short answer is that eudaemonism – according to him – is ultimately based on self-love, and that the moral vision of scripture is based on the love of God for human beings, giving them inherent worth, so that they can justly claim life goods as rights. This is the point where the break, the interruption, the incursion of the moral vision of scripture takes place with Augustine. The ancients conducted all their ethical theorizing within the framework of eudaimonism. A theory of rights, so I contend, cannot be developed within that framework … An adequate theory of rights would not have been possible had the grip of eudaimonism on the intellectual imagination of the West not been broken ... It was Augustine’s reading of Scripture that forced him to break with eudaimonism in such a way as to make possible a theory of rights. The incursion of Scripture into the thought world of late antiquity made possible the rights culture that we are all familiar with. (2008: 136)

The relevant point is that – in his opinion – not only the ethics and theories of justice from antiquity, including Stoics and the Peripatetics, like Aristotle, but also most of our contemporary dominant ethical traditions and theories of justice are also eudaemonistic, ultimately based on self-love, and therefore unable to appreciate the moral vision of scripture and therefore what Wolterstorff regards as a Christian and (most probably, at least based on his earlier work, also typically) Reformed conception of justice, based on inherent worth, dignity and rights. It is because we often lack this Christian understanding of justice that we fail to see the wrongs done to so many victims all around us – including in our South African experience. According to him, eudaemonism has no room for compassion, and therefore for compassionate justice. Augustine found himself confronted with Christ’s injunction “to love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind and to love your neighbor as yourself ”. It was Christ’s injunction to love not only God but one’s neighbor as oneself that roiled the waters of Augustine’s eudaimonism ... Augustine’s ever deeper immersion in Scripture, from the time of his conversion onward, has brought him to the conclusion that our tendency to worry over the physical and mental well-being of family and friends, to weep at funerals for the loss of

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companionship, and the like is not to be described to our fallenness but to our created human nature. God made us thus … We are so created as to grieve over human misery, over the misery of ourselves, our family, our friends, even over the misery of the “neighbor”. (2008: 194–200)

In short, Augustine found Christ’s command ‘incompatible with the agentorientation’, the orientation on the well-being of the acting self, of eudaemonism, according to Wolterstorff. ‘I do not doubt that eudaimonism is compatible with the demand to love one’s neighbor. My argument is that it is not compatible with the demand to love one’s neighbor as one loves oneself’ (his italics, 2008: 208). In his exposition, Wolterstorff sounds almost exactly like Calvin and Jonker. I think there can be little doubt that Augustine found Christ’s love command unsettling for his received way of thinking … What is the force in the “as” in the command to love your neighbor as yourself? … I suggest that it has a double force. It the first place, it is to be interpreted as an instance of the standard “just as ... so also” rhetorical structure ... But Jesus surely also means, place love of neighbor on a par with love of yourself. Weak neighbor-love combined with intense self-love would not qualify as satisfying the command … The love command, thus understood, is incompatible with eudaimonism. Eudaimonism allows love of the other into one’s life, but only if that love passes the test of contributing to one’s own life being well-lived … Obeying Christ’s command requires rejecting the agent-orientation intrinsic to eudaimonism. (Wolterstorff 2008: 209–11)

Wolterstorff specifically extends his discussion to include Jesus’ command to include one’s enemies as objects of one’s love (which falls ‘unmistakably outside the pale of what any ancient eudaemonist did or could accept’) as well as compassion. Compassion occurs when the object of my sorrow is not what has befallen me but what has befallen the other. Compassion is sorrow for and with the other, or as Augustine put it in one place, “on behalf of ” the other. Compassion is an alienation of the self from the self, a forgetfulness of the self and an emotional identification with the other. Compassion is kenotic, to use a term common in contemporary theology, compassion is self-emptying … Had Augustine remained a eudaimonist, he could not have urged that we join together in a solidarity of compassion. (Wolterstorff 2008: 217–18)

In this 2008 philosophical monograph, Wolterstorff does not make any reference to Calvin and the Reformed faith and tradition. He has done that earlier, in his many other works on justice. From an autobiographical comment almost made in passing, however, the background in Calvin of both his purpose as well as the content of his argument becomes very clear.



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I grew up in a tiny village in the farm country of southwest Minnesota, the eldest child of poor immigrant parents. Rather often I saw my parents being treated with the indignity typical of how the well-to-do treat the poor. What I now find remarkable is that my parents never for a moment indicated that they believed they somehow deserved such treatment; rather than internalizing the attitude of their demeaners, they felt bruised, hurt, helplessly angry. They maintained their self-respect, grounded, in their case, in the Calvinist version of Christianity within which they were embedded and into which I was inducted. They were precious in God’s sight. All human beings are precious in God’s sight. I now realize that a fertile seed bed had been prepared in me for seeing the faces and hearing the voices of victims … There are many explanations of failing to see the faces and hear the voices of those who are wronged, even of those right before one … (S)ometimes our frameworks of conviction lead us to discount the significance of what we see and hear (Wolterstorff 2008: viii–ix).

Of course, not everyone is as convinced of his account of the story. Many others – who probably prefer some form of the dominant account, of justice as right order – will perhaps even argue that the story of inherent natural rights may indeed have a scriptural origin, but that this story has been transposed into a different story and a different language, or at least a story functioning in a different way today, rhetorically justifying different purposes and having different practical consequences, namely, a story, language and practical consequences of far-reaching individualism, of ‘autonomous self-interest for own self-preservation’ (e.g. Jane Lockwood O’Donovan, as well as Oliver O’Donovan, who already in 1975 wrote his doctoral thesis in Oxford on The Problem of Self-Love in Augustine, and continued to pursue these themes in studies like The Desire of Nations, Common Objects of Love and The Ways of Judgment). In short, many others are deeply sceptical of this conception of justice. Again, the purpose here cannot be to resolve these issues, or even to choose between these positions, but merely to learn from them how to focus our question even further. If neighbourly love indeed calls for justice in public life, then the question is how we understand justice, and whether our public, political and social life together is indeed characterized by such justice? Is it indeed correct – according to the scriptures and the Reformed faith, in the tradition of Calvin – to see justice not in terms of right order, but rather in terms of inherent rights, based on the dignity of human beings? Is it indeed possible that our conceptions of justice, our language of justice, may blind us to these forms of injustice in our public and political life? Can our discourses on justice indeed make it difficult or impossible for us to see the victims – even of our own actions or omissions? Can our self-love – justified by our many and subtle eudaemonistic discourses on life as experientially satisfying and life as happy and well

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lived (Wolterstorff’s terminology) – hinder us to hear the cries of those who suffer injustice? If all this is perhaps indeed possible, how can we then discern when this is actually happening?

Power – and privilege? In the struggle against the biblical and theological justification of apartheid, the ecumenical church, including the World Alliance of Reformed Churches, declared a status confessionis, a moment of truth, proclaiming that the truth of the gospel itself was at stake. In response to this far-reaching decision, black South African Reformed churches adopted a new Reformed confessional document, the Confession of Belhar (1982/1986). Without mentioning apartheid at all, God was praised for the gift of living unity, real reconciliation and compassionate justice, and these Christians acknowledged that they felt called to embody and practice such unity, reconciliation and justice, following Jesus Christ in their society. Speaking about the practical implications of compassionate justice, the Confession says: (We believe) that the church must therefore stand by people in any form of suffering and need, which implies, among other things, that the church must witness against and strive against any form of injustice, so that justice may roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream; that the church, belonging to God, should stand where God stands, namely against injustice and with the wronged; that in following Christ the church must witness against all the powerful and privileged who selfishly seek their own interests and thus control and harm others.

The words in italics are clearly meant as a kind of criterion. Power as such is not bad, but inevitable, necessary, integral to human life, and could and should be a wonderful blessing, if it is gracious and just power. Privilege as such is not bad, in fact it belongs to human life, like grace, blessing and blessings, and provides opportunities to serve, care, help, support, affirm life. Whenever those who are powerful and privileged, however, ‘selfishly seek their own interests and in doing that control and harm others’, the church is called to resist such misuse of power and privilege; to stand against such injustice and with those people who are wronged; to witness against and work against such selfishness. But how does the church discern when such a moment of truth has arrived? How do we determine when power and privilege have become selfish? In  1995 in Zambia, the voice of Belhar was joined with the voices of other Reformed churches from Southern Africa in the Kitwe Declaration, crying against economic injustices in our world and against ecological



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destruction, calling on the ecumenical Reformed world to take up their concern. In 1997, the World Alliance of Reformed Churches in Debrecen, Hungary, called on all member churches to search their own lives and practices in order to discern whether their faith in the gospel was not perhaps at stake in these global challenges. In 2004 in Accra, Ghana, the Reformed community committed themselves to covenant and work together to recognize and resist economic exclusion and injustice and the contemptuous exploitation of creation. In saying this, they spoke of ‘empire’, of a spirit of imperial power and privilege at work in our world. In an ongoing project of collaboration between Reformed churches from the North and the South on the basis of the Accra document, a joint group from the Uniting Reformed Church in Southern Africa and the Evangelical Reformed Church from Leer, Germany, describes ‘empire’ as follows: We speak of empire, because we discern a coming together of economic, cultural, political and military power in our world today, that constitutes a reality and a spirit of lordless domination, created by humankind yet enslaving simultaneously; an all-encompassing global reality serving, protecting and defending the interests of powerful corporations, nations, elites and privileged people, while imperiously excluding, even sacrificing humanity and exploiting creation; a pervasive spirit of destructive self-interest, even greed – the worship of money, goods and possessions; the gospel of consumerism, proclaimed through powerful propaganda and religiously justified, believed and followed; the colonization of consciousness, values and notions of human life by the imperial logic; a spirit lacking compassionate justice and showing contemptuous disregard for the gifts of creation and the household of life.

The ‘reality and spirit of “lordless domination”’ (herrenlosen Gewalten) is of course a reference to Karl Barth’s posthumous publication on The Christian Life, his lectures on the Lord’s Prayer, and therefore a definite impulse from the Reformed tradition itself – but does this impulse help us to engage the powers at work in social life, today, against the pervasive colonization of consciousness and everyday life? These words immediately remind one of the description by Ernst Troeltsch of Calvin and Calvinism and their impulses towards life in society. A century ago, during the 400th celebration of Calvin’s birth, Troeltsch (2001) published several contributions on Calvin as part of the commemoration. During the same time (1906/1911), in his famous Die Bedeutung des Protestantismus für die Entstehung der modernen Welt (translated as Protestantism and Progress), he clearly distinguished between what he called the ‘capitalistic system’ on the one hand and the ‘capitalistic spirit’ of Calvinism, on the other. In the former, he saw the ‘calculating coldness and soullessless’, the ‘unscrupulous greed and pitilessness’ and the ‘tyrannical power’ of the capitalistic system of his day,

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which he regarded as ‘directly opposed’ to the genuine capitalistic spirit of Calvinism. Above all, the imposing but also terrible expansion of modern capitalism, with its calculating coldness and soullessness, its unscrupulous greed and pitilessness, its turning to gain for gain’s sake, to fierce and ruthless competition, its agonizing lust of victory, its blatant satisfaction in the tyrannical power of the merchant class, has entirely loosed it from its former ethical foundation; and it has become a power directly opposed to genuine Calvinism and Protestantism. When it no longer practices asceticism for the honour of God, but for the gaining of power, to the honour of man, it has no longer anything in common with Protestantism except its strongly individualistic spirit now no longer held in check by the social and religious spirit of early Calvinism.

For Troeltsch, Calvinism helped create the powerful but soulless spirit that it can no longer oppose or control. Calvinism, too, has become helpless in the face of such powerful selfishness. The ethical theories of Calvinism have also become unable to help against this spirit, this power, this empire. It is, in fact, the fate of (Calvinism’s) “intra-mundane” asceticism that, having once accorded recognition to work and life in the world, it can never again get rid of the horde of spirits which swarms out upon it in overwhelming strength … (T)he ethical theories which to-day support the capitalistic organisation of life have, to a great extent, become dominated by a religiously indifferent utilitarianism. For Protestantism itself (it) has become a difficult problem, to the solution of which the ethico-economic teachings of the Reformation can contribute little.

Does this then mean that for Troeltsch, this kind of description of the ‘tyrannical power’ of his day, of the ‘reality and spirit of empire’ today, seemingly only helps us to understand that the ethical spirit of Calvinism is no longer able to engage social life, because the public world has become too complex, too powerful and too much out of control? Could this indeed be true? Are the ethical convictions, also of the Reformed faith, really helpless in light of the social powers unleashed in our world today? The cry from Kitwe, the call from Debrecen, the covenant from Accra – could they really make a difference? Did the world hear and respond, in fact, did the member churches themselves hear and respond? Or did the world – and many of the churches – only respond when the scientific report from the United Nations showed how their own interests were threatened with the realities of global warming and climate change? Did the world – and many believers – only understand when the global financial crisis affected and endangered their own interests and



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concerns? In South Africa, were many supporters of political apartheid only persuaded to give up their support when they realized that the alternative scenarios for themselves were ‘too ghastly to contemplate’? Were many only moved to see the plight of others when the eminent Afrikaner business leader Anton Rupert warned that no one will even be able to sleep peacefully while their next-door neighbours have nothing to eat? Is it not – ultimately – self-interest rather than conviction that determines our social life together? If Troeltsch – like Reinhold Niebuhr? – is correct, and the ethics of the Reformed faith is no longer able to impact on the powerful spirit of selfish greed at work in our contemporary world, in so many concrete ways and forms, would this then not present the ultimate question hidden behind the question mark – for then Calvin and Calvinism could no longer offer any impulse towards life together, since the spirit of our time would then indeed be one of lordless domination?

Calvin and Calvinism – impulses for life in society? Hopefully, the question that we face has become somewhat more focused, albeit more complex, in light of our recent South African experiences. The Reformed vision has always involved the conviction that life in society should be continuously and critically engaged – but is that still possible? The South African experience, like so many others in history, has shown how ambiguous and problematic all the claims concerning the Reformed contribution to public life have been, in any case. Is that not already enough reason to give up these claims? Calvin clearly warned against using the language of self-love to justify our lack of neighbourly love, but did Calvinism not find powerful ideological ways to speak about self-love in such a way that it could indeed justify a lack of love? How do we discern when forms of self-love are legitimate, or not? If we say that the criterion is whether we actually do love others, practically and concretely, through our actions, is that indeed applicable in public and political love, is love indeed a useful category in the face of the real power struggles in the world? In case we respond that love should be translated into justice, in order to direct our actions in public life, what do we then mean by justice, and why? And will our theories of justice be able to protect the victims and respect the dignity and rights of the downtrodden and excluded in the realities of our world today – a world so often characterized by a spirit of selfishness and lordless domination? Will our theories of justice help us to see the wrongs in our common world? Does it make sense to cherish the Reformed vision and to think that impulses from Calvin and Calvinism could still make a difference to our life together, today?

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Bibliography Barth, K. The Christian Life, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1981. Boesak, A. A. The Tenderness of Conscience. African Renaissance and the Spirituality of Politics, Stellenbosch: SunMedia, 2005. Dommisse, E. Anton Rupert. ‘A Biography, Cape Town, Tafelberg, 2005. Durand, J. J. F. ‘Bible and race: the problem of hermeneutics’, Journal of Theology for Southern Africa, Vol. 24, September 1978, p. 3–11. Giliomee, H. The Afrikaners. Biography of a People, Kaapstad, Tafelberg, 2003. Heyns, J. A. ‘Die Mens in Verhouding tot Homself ’. Die Kerkbode, Vol. 126, 11 September 1974, p. 339–348. Jonker, W. D. ‘Selfliefde en Selfhandhawing’. Die Kerkbode, Vol. 126, 14 August and 21 August 1974, p. 210–212, 240–242. Kinghorn, J. (ed.) Die NG Kerk en Apartheid, Johannesburg: Macmillan, 1986. Krog, A. Country of my Skull, Johannesburg: Random House, 2002. Louw, N. P. van Wyk. Versamelde Prosa, Kaapstad: Tafelberg, 1986. MacIntyre, A. After Virtue. A Study in Moral Theory, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984. – Human Relations and the South African Scene in the light of Scripture, official translation of the Report Ras, Volk en Nasie en Volkereverhoudinge in die lig van die Skrif, approved by the General Synod of the Dutch Reformed Church, October 1974, Cape Town: Dutch Reformed Church Publishers, 1976. ‘N.G.K. antwoord Nederlandse Sinode’, Die Burger, Friday 22 May 1970. Niebuhr, R. Moral Man and Immoral Society. A Study of Ethics and Politics, New York: Scribner, 1932. – The Nature and Destiny of Man. A Christian Interpretation, New York: Scribner, 1941. O’Donovan, O. Common Objects of Love. Moral Reflection and the Shaping of Community, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2002. – The Desire of Nations. Rediscovering the Roots of Political Theology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. – The Problem of Self-Love in Augustine, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1980. – The Ways of Judgment, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005. O’Donovan, O. and O’Donovan, J. L. Bonds of Imperfection. Christian Politics Past and Present, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2004. Pelikan, J. J. Reformation of Church and Dogma (1300–1700). The Christian Tradition, Vol 4, Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1984. Treurnicht, A. P. Credo van ‘n Afrikaner, Kaapstad: Tafelberg, 1975. Troeltsch, E. Kritische Gesamtausgabe. Band 8. Schriften zur Bedeutung des Protestantismus für die moderne Welt (1906–1913), Hrsg. T Rendtorff, Berlin: De Gruyter, 2001. – Protestantism and Progress. The Significance of Protestantism for the Rise of the Modern World, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986. Wolterstorff, N. Justice. Rights and Wrongs, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008. – Until Justice and Peace Embrace, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1983. – ‘The wounds of God: Calvin’s theology of social justice’, The Reformed Journal 37, 1987, 14–22.

Chapter 16

Meditatio futurae vitae  : A Spiritual Challenge for Church and Society? Fulvio Ferrario Meditatio futurae vitae : the very phrasing of this topic seems disconcerting to our modern way of thinking. Our preaching, our catechism, our pastoral care and theology have learned to appreciate the ideological risks of a certain style of ‘meditating on the future life’, i.e. the danger of withdrawing energy from commitment in the here and now. This insight generally lodged itself in our theological awareness in a relatively short time: I would say in the second half of the twentieth century. Bonhoeffer’s famous remarks about rejecting religion characterized by metaphysics and inwardness1 can now be regarded as characteristic of the spiritual attitude and development of Christianity, at least in the Western world. In my view, any attempt to reverse this development would be neither possible nor legitimate. Questioning Calvin about the meditatio futurae vitae does not mean taking refuge in spiritual and theological models that we can no longer call our own, despite their great historical significance. My question is rather whether such meditation can make a contribution to a spirituality that ties eschatology (not only as a theological category) into the life and experience of personal faith and the faith shared in community. This short contribution is divided into three sections: first, critically describing Calvin’s thought; second, situating it in the history of ideas of the early modern era; and third, reflecting on the questions raised by the first two sections with respect to our own spirituality.

Institutes III 9 The ninth chapter of the third book of the Institutes is situated in the overall context of interpreting the features of Christian life. It is remarkable that in the different revisions of his major work, Calvin preserved this part unchanged: as we will see, he here moves along the safe paths of the

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spirituality of his age. The two previous chapters deal with human selflessness and human participation in the cross of Christ in the sense of example: the cross as the identity card of Christian life, endowing it with a basic structure. That is why Christian understanding of life cannot be confined to the area of the visible. Calvin moves on from this idea to the topic of interest here. The chapter can be easily divided into three parts: (a) the transience of earthly life;2 (b) the dignity that must be ascribed to this life in grateful acknowledgement;3 and (c) the fear of death and the need to wrestle with this fear.4 The fundamental categories used to present this topic and structure the argument come from Stoic tradition, or, more exactly, from the reception of aspects of the Church Fathers in the world of humanist ideas.5 The transience (vanitas) of earthly life is to be understood as beneficent divine order, aiming to help the believer to maintain an attitude of healthy distance from this world. These beneficent didactic nuisances include natural or historical calamities, harsh treatment by one’s wife (or husband, one would like to add, but Calvin does not...) – this last point being meant to prevent one from an excessive appreciation of the joys of marriage – or spoiled children. Without these and other complaints, the human mind would not, or only exceptionally, devote itself to meditation on eternal life. The awareness of human transience certainly exists, in principle, but it is unrewarding in normal life unless God himself trains us to adopt an attitude of distance or detachment. However, an excessive disdain for earthly life would, in turn, be an indication of sinful ingratitude to God. Earthly life also has its place in divine providence, and it deserves twofold respect. First, God has decided that heavenly glory is to be reached precisely through our struggles in this life. And second, in these very struggles we can taste God’s beneficence, which will be fully realized in his kingdom. Precisely in its bitterness, this world is the arena in which God’s goodness and faithfulness is revealed, as an advance, a promise. This is apparently a variation on Calvin’s leitmotiv of created reality as the theatrum gloriae dei. It is God’s wisdom itself that is able to hold love for the world and the resultant gratitude in balance. Here, the believers’ detachment from the world differs from that of pagans.6 The latter7 reject worldly pleasures by the purely rational effort to overcome the vanity of reality: this is an attitude born of despair. By contrast, faith takes in the transience of the world and understands it in relation to the eschatological promise, in which material and body are seen as ways of indicating the distance to God. Here, he quotes 2 Cor. 5.6. Another passage important for Calvin’s argumentation is Phil. 1.23, where ‘to remain in the flesh’ is described in relatively positive terms, precisely because it belongs to God’s plan of salvation.



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The cosmological and anthropological background of the Reformer is fundamentally foreign to us today, particularly the notion of matter as the prison of the spirit (not only to us, incidentally, but also to the biblical world of ideas). But such an approach is also inadequate because it does not take account of the specific direction of Calvin’s hermeneutics. His thinking is defined by the categories of antiquity and the Early Fathers, Greek dualism and the Stoic legacy; forming the realm of ideas and communication in which Calvin operated, they need not necessarily be assessed dogmatically. These ideas are underpinned by recourse to meditatio, which gives the chapter its heading. Future life remains a theologumenon, ultimately abstract, as long as meditatio does not relate it to the present. The framework in which meditatio is most strongly present is spiritual meditation about death. The horror that grips people from this contemplation is, according to Calvin, the direct expression of sin in its radical form: sin as contemplation of life without faith and as the resultant practice of life.8 The Reformer starts from a philosophical understanding that was de facto generally widespread, according to which living beings want to hold on to their life.9 This natural wish is fulfilled in what Calvin calls ‘future immortality’.10 It is this hope that frees the faithful from the naked fear of death. On this point, Christians should allow themselves to be instructed by pagan philosophers, whose contempt for death could actually be understood as criticism of those who have accepted revelation. According to Calvin, eschatological hope becomes tangible in a free notion of death bereft of all superstitious fear. This concentration of the idea of the coming Kingdom on the moment of death, or on individual immortality, could also be felt to be an eschatological restriction, indeed, possibly a ‘reduction’. Biblical eschatology has a historical, political and cosmic dimension and cannot be reduced to personal death. But here, too, our modern understanding must be accompanied by an effort to measure and assess Calvin’s pastoral intention. The latter is, in my view, particularly important and offers healthy critique to our present-day spiritual context. The exegetical rehabilitation of the historical, cosmic framework of eschatology is doubtless of benefit not just for theology, but also for the sensitivity of our faith. Nevertheless, it appears to me imperative that we confront the following question: does the promise of a coming Kingdom not entice us into adopting overly abstract ideas? That is, of course, supposing, we want to keep that promise separate from any link with the end of our personal existence in this world. After all, recognizing the relativity of earthly existence remains a purely theoretical consideration as long as it is not made real in our own death. Calvin’s criticism of the fear of death seems to us almost suspended between faith as such and its psychological effects. We have probably learned that there are depths of emotion that cannot be simply explained away with Bible quotes or

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theological remarks. At the same time, we must inquire whether the tradition of ars moriendi, which Calvin was obviously taking up, might not raise a critical concern about our postmodern attitude – that is something to reflect on more elsewhere. In the last section, the more wisdom-type tone of the reflections takes on an apocalyptic hue. Rom. 8.36 is quoted, the Reformer speaks of the faithful as sheep being led to the slaughter, exposed to raging persecution and yet knowing themselves to be accompanied by the promise of God’s wrath, which is presented as a counterpoint in the context of the canonical revelation (although, as is well known, Calvin had no particular sympathy for this book). This level of reprisal is probably no longer common in the world of modern Christian feelings. It is striking, however, that the symbolic world of God’s wrath and revenge, which is central to the Bible and was frequently a key focus in the past (above all, before the age of Constantine), has often been taken up by liberation theologians. Calvin’s over-ripe and not particularly attractive form of expression reminds us that God’s love is not undifferentiated, but selective and purposive. Christian tradition has often imagined grace to be dualist: salvation and judgement, forgiveness and damnation, gracious election and rejection. Calvin is such an example, and an extreme one at that. Above all, during the twentieth century, theology and not just Protestant theology learned to develop the soteriological consequences of Christology in an even more radical way than was usual in the mainstream of theological tradition (thanks mainly to Karl Barth). That would have been impossible without the christological focus of the Reformers; however, it goes far beyond their doctrine of salvation. What often almost seems like a symmetrical figure between grace and judgement should definitely be outdated for us. But there is an evident risk, even in this decisive step forward: that of describing the love of God in an undifferentiated way and thus no longer speaking of the love of God in the Bible.11 We cannot avoid this danger by turning back to the (albeit Calvinist) logic of revenge, but by seriously addressing the failure (also Calvin’s) to preach costly grace, so that one level of our proclamation remains disturbing: the sinful maltreatment of God’s creatures will not go unanswered. In the whole picture of Calvin’s theology, the meditatio futurae vitae can be understood as a pastoral application of the doctrine of providence found at the end of the first book of the Institutes.12 In both areas, a few key theological thoughts crop up with their respective philosophical connections: first, the negative side of life is understood as a revelation of God’s grace, which guides the course of history towards the good of humanity; second, the good of the church comes to the fore in this context, which God is particularly close to when it suffers persecution; third, philosophical aspects of Stoical heritage are used to develop the specifically theological side both of



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the paraenesis (exhortation) and the biblical message; and fourth, the eschatological perspective is stressed as fundamental and binding in the counterargumentation. In Inst. 3 9, the category of ars moriendi is the intellectual framework (not just as Formgeschichte but, above all, spiritually) with which Calvin develops the relevance of eschatology for the life of the individual, in the here and now.13 We have already pointed up the objective theological limits to such an approach: they are the limits of a past phase of development in the Western history of ideas. But an appropriate awareness of this attitude in its original context can assist us to discover a possible mandate for our age.

Calvin’s meditatio futurae vitae in the context of the early modern age – contemplation of death and eternal life Not least thanks to Ph. Ariès14 and his classic on death in Western civilization, we know that the early modern age saw a decisive turn in the understanding of praeparatio ad mortem. The central point of the new approach, according to Ariès, consists in attaching less importance to the hora mortis and more to a preparation embracing the whole of life, thereby lending it another character. In a society understanding itself in religious categories, that meant a restructuring of piety and the whole spiritual orientation. In order to illustrate the phenomenon, we will first look at the Colloquia Familaria by Erasmus of Rotterdam. Ariès only mentions The Shipwreck15 in passing, but it is typical of a humanist sensibility. As the title indicates, the dialogue describes a shipwreck in which many of the passengers lose their lives. The critical point of the story lies in the contrast between two completely different forms of piety. On the one hand, priests and monks are described who, in their hour of need, call on all the saints in paradise without even mentioning Jesus Christ. The ruthless irony of Erasmus holds its own – as it frequently did – against the most biting writings of the Reformers. He describes and condemns an attitude in which faith turns into superstition: the idea of a relationship to the God of Jesus Christ disappears completely and is replaced by an almost magic trust in the healing power of the saints, a trust in which Erasmus does not even perceive a vestigium of Christian heritage. On the other side stands a young woman with a child in her arms, praying quietly to herself without getting upset, and she ends up being saved. Being a woman, she cannot belong to the clergy but, like them, she also prays. However, she adopts a quite different stance (medieval tradition would call it a habitus), which Erasmus portrays as an outcome of universal existence that comes forth to provide backup in the hour of need.

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In this context of Erasmus, we must chiefly refer to Praeparatio ad mortem16 of 1534, which is dedicated to Thomas Boleyn, the father of Anne Boleyn (the second wife of Henry VIII). The occasion of the work is interesting in itself: just when his daughter marries the King of England – in other words, the family reaches the peak of social success – Thomas Boleyn suddenly feels it necessary to contemplate death and the transience of this world. His pious prescience was, as generally known, sadly confirmed by history. The themes treated by Erasmus are largely analogous with those we find in Calvin’s writings. It is very probable that the Erasmus text was a model for the Reformer’s thoughts. Erasmus confirms and deepens the belief behind Thomas Boleyn’s inquiry: that the idea of death should be admitted and not repressed, even in times of strength and health. Occasional reflections on the topic, together with a simple, fearless faith, constitute a much better preparation than the superstitious trust in the pious practices of the hora mortis. From a theological standpoint, we must point out that the apocalyptic overtones of Calvin are missing in the work of the great Dutch humanist: the flow of argument is tempered by a wisdom mode. Nor was Erasmus so passionately concerned with the topics of election and the relation between personal individual struggle and the persecuted church, whereas they were very close to Calvin’s heart. Instead, the pastoral direction of Praeparatio ad mortem impels Erasmus to end with several pieces of advice, which were meant for the dying person and his or her final struggle with the tempter.17 The latter, according to Erasmus, will strive to attack the dying person’s trust in God and to awaken doubt about God’s power and, above all, God’s mercy. The author claims that the only possible measure to take against such lies is to cut off the discussion by simply starting to recite the creed. This is an impressive section, which could almost have come from Luther’s pen. Against a similar background, Calvin’s reflections also become clearer and more comprehensible (not without parallels in the tradition of the Counter-Reformation; we could also cite Ignatius of Loyola). On the one hand, the relationship to God may not be one-sidedly bound up with thoughts about death; on the other hand, the two aspects cannot be fully separated either. In order to create this dialectic a paideia is needed, to seize and run through the whole of life. Meditatio futurae vitae has a shaping function, as long as it relates to daily life, by situating it in the truly meaningful context of God’s eternity. This topic is central to Calvin’s doctrine of providence and election: it is only starting from here that the pastoral effects of praeparatio mortis concerning the personal side of life can be adequately realized theologically. His letters show this very clearly, as discovered by research into his pastoral activity:18 theology, pastoral application and piety are woven into an organic unity, not without tensions, but in an undoubtedly productive way.



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Calvin’s meditatio futurae vitae as a challenge to Christian spirituality today (a) There is a postmodern trend, it seems to me, to reinforce a process already apparent in the twentieth century, i.e. the repression of death. The present-day bioethical debate about the last phase of life does not always constitute a counter-tendency, because thinking about the existential meaning of human mortality is always at risk of being sidelined. Calvin claims that all reflection about human life has to start from the awareness of mortality. The key point of his thinking is that this awareness is only authentic when it focuses almost entirely on the future life. Today, the concrete way that Calvin develops his thoughts can seem slightly depressing. Although he also warns against contempt for earthly life, which he finds pagan, his choice of words is far away from that ‘loyalty to the earth’ stressed not just by Nietzsche, but also by Bonhoeffer and, following the latter, the theology of the 1960s. But the Reformer’s question is as clear as daylight: what stimulus can our life of faith derive from a healthy contemplation of our mortality? To what extent does perceiving human mortality constitute an opportunity for life here and now? Calvin reacted in his own way and one can certainly contest his views. However, this critique will only be constructive if it succeeds in giving its own answers to the questions asked. (b) As pointed out above, the Christianity of the twentieth century was rightly admonished not to pursue an apparently comforting and opiate spirituality, where the connection with eschatology would ultimately mean a non-responsibility towards history and, as it were, legitimize the injustices and pains running through history; as I have said, there is no going back. But couldn’t Calvin help us by asking whether, conversely, the eschatological framework of Christian existence is not at risk of being repressed? His standpoint is clear and can be summarized as follows: we can only understand this life in the light of the promise of a future life. An aggressive, provocative position: as provocative as Paul’s sermon to the citizens of Athens in Acts 17. Here, we come across the core of the Christian message. The theology of the twentieth century resolutely stressed the eschatological dimension. That sometimes took on apocalyptic features, which Calvin does not conceal but, for various reasons, is cautious about – that must be noted as a positive outcome. If the apocalypse, quite apart from eschatology in general, is left to the Enthusiasts in Christian theology, that is harmful to the church and society. And yet, we must ask ourselves: to what extent has such an eschatological focus characterized the life of the Reformation churches and contemporary Christianity in general? Is it not sadly true that the emphasis on the eschatological in doctrine has often gone hand in hand with a neglect of what could be called ‘the eschatology of everyday life’?

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(c) Contemporary Christian sensibility has learned how to recognize the individualist narrowness of traditional eschatology, which Calvin also follows at many points. The historical and cosmic side of God’s Kingdom are today rightly at the centre of reflection. Authors like Jean-Baptiste Metz and, above all, Jürgen Moltmann, who particularly brought this out, at the same time considered the fundamental importance of hope for the dead. God’s historicalcosmic future constitutes a promise for every single man and woman that seeks to define the whole of life. The God of Jesus is the God who raises the dead: this coining of his name is, for the gospels, the decisive direction for the whole of earthly life. If this message does not take root in individual life, its historical, cosmic formulation will also lose its existential force. Calvin makes a great effort to reason and preach on what changes in an individual life when it is enlightened by faith in the resurrection. The philosophical categories, the worldview and the mentality in which his reply is situated, are clearly different from ours. And for that reason too, ‘learning from Calvin’ cannot mean spelling out his words like a schoolchild. However, if we have trouble with his ideas, this is not just because he speaks to us from a distant century, but no doubt also because he presents to us aspects of the Christian message that we have simply lost the habit of confronting, at least we European Christians. It will not be off the point to turn here to the challenges of bioethics, which I briefly referred to above. With respect primarily to the questions about the last phase of life, I would like to put a perhaps naive question: what is actually the role of eschatological hope in the bioethical debates of the church? Is it important at all that those involved in them conduct their reflections in the context of the hope of resurrection? It should be apparent in view of my remarks that it cannot be about promoting doctrinaire or fundamentalist attitudes: we already have enough of that sort of thing, unfortunately in the churches too. The point is simply to investigate the extent to which a central part of our creed takes on relevance in our practice and theory of Christian life. The rather abrupt way in which Calvin poses the question may be disconcerting. However, it seems to me that by provoking this salutary uncertainty, the Reformer does a considerable service to the church, even today.

Notes   1. D. Bonhoeffer, ‘Letters and papers from prison’, ed. by E. Bethge, transl. by R. H. Fuller, Macmillan, New York 1962, 165ff.   2. Inst. 3 9.1-2 (see the other file).   3. Inst. 3 9.3-4.



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  4. Inst. 3 9.5-6. On the importance of fear in Calvin’s thought, see above all W. C. Bowsma, John Calvin. A Sixteenth-Century Portrait, Oxford University Press, New York/Oxford 1988, 32–48.   5. Inst. 3 9.5 quotes Cyprian. Certainly, it must be pointed out that Calvin distanced himself explicitly from Stoicism, claiming that apatheia was not a Christian ideal. However, it is obvious that important guidelines of Stoic thoughtforms were taken up in humanist thinking. The question about the relationship between the Reformer and Stoic tradition has been widely discussed, e.g. Ch. Partee, Calvin and the Classical Philosophy, Brill, Leiden 1977.   6. Inst. 3 9.4.   7. Here, Calvin quotes Herodotus’s description of the Scythians (Hist. I, 31) and Cicero’s thoughts in Tusc. I, 48,113 s.   8. Inst. 3 9.5.   9. Erasmus formulates the same idea with the same intention in De praeparatione ad mortem: E Roterodamus, Opera Omnia (Clericus: hereafter LB), Lugduni Bataviorum 1703–1708, reprinted 1961–1962, V, 1239. 10. Inst. 3 9.5. 11. This danger is stressed by G. D. Berkouwer, Der Triumph der Gnade in der Theologie Karl Barths, Neukirchner Verlag, Neukirchen 1957. And in this warning, one could recognize the particula veri of his concern. 12. Inst. 1 16-18. The most recent contribution to Calvin’s doctrine of providence is probably that of R. Bernhardt, Was heißt “Handeln Gottes”?, LIT Verlag, Vienna/ Berlin 2008, 82–105. 13. On this point, see Chr. Link, Streitbare Theologie. Was ist für die Kirche und Theologie heute von Calvin zu lernen? EvTh 69 (2009), 101–22, here 112–15. 14. Philippe Ariès, L’homme devant la mort, Le Seuil, Paris 1977, 291ff. 15. LB I (see note 9), 712–15. The dialogue appears for the first time in the second edition of Colloquia (1523). 16. LB V (see note 9), 1294–1318. 17. Ibid., 1314–16. 18. See e.g. A. Perrot, Le visage humain de Jean Calvin, Labor et Fides, Genève 1986, 2nd edition, 69–76.

Chapter 17

Calvin’s Interpretation of the Church as the ‘Communion of Saints’: A Challenge and Opportunity for Contemporary Reformed Churches Peter Opitz The church elected to be the ‘communion of saints’ For Calvin, as for the other Reformers, ‘reforming’ the church did not mean taking specific measures to achieve the self-purification of an institution.1 Initially it was much more an act of listening, beginning with a readiness to learn2 God’s will for his church according to the testimony of the Bible. A listening, nevertheless, that led to acts of purification and restoration. Like all Reformers, Calvin regarded the Apostles’ Creed as an accurate summary of the biblical story of Christ and thus attributed considerable hermeneutic power to it. As is generally known, the church is denoted in the Creed using the briefest of terms, communio sanctorum. Calvin explains this ‘communion of saints’ from a Reformed perspective in his first Institutes, completed in Basel in 1536. Primarily, staunchly theologically, indeed Christologically, the expression means that the communion of saints is a community called into life and sustained through God’s election alone, a community gathered around Christ the common ‘head’ and ‘leader,’ which is hence simultaneously joined together as the ‘body’ of Christ, and sees itself as such: First, we believe the holy catholic church – that is the whole number of the elect, […] of men, whether dead or still living […] in whatever lands they live […] to be one church and society, and one people of God. Of it, Christ, our Lord, is Leader and Ruler, and as it were Head of the one body, according as, through divine goodness, they have been chosen in him before the foundation of the world, in order that all might be gathered into God’s Kingdom. […] But all God’s elect are so united and conjoined in Christ that as they are dependent on one Head, they also grow together into one body […] It is also holy, because as many as have been chosen by God’s eternal providence to be adopted as members of the church – all these are made holy by the Lord […]. We likewise believe the



Calvin’s Interpretation of the Church as the ‘Communion of Saints’  191 communion of the saints. That is, in the catholic church all the elect (who with true faith worship God together) have reciprocal communication and participation in all goods. […] The community of believers looks to the end that they may share among themselves, with kindness and due charity, all such goods both of the spirit and of the body insofar as is fair and according as use demands.3

But given the circumstances of the early modern Genevan city reform, how was such a church, wedged between pre-election in Christ and the eschatological gathering into the Kingdom of God, and characterized as a ‘sanctified’ and ‘conjoined’ cooperative, actually shaped? For a practical answer to this question, the Geneva Council summoned Calvin to the city on the Rhone, and thereafter, this dilemma then captured a good portion of his efforts in Geneva. In the following, we will be reminded of the central significance of the notion of church as the ‘communion of saints’ for Calvin’s work in Geneva, applying church history in the sense of a ‘perspektivische Problemgeschichte’,4 in order to subsequently determine the potential of Calvin’s thought on this as a guide for orienting the actions of the Reformed Church in our contemporary Western cultural context. 5

From an invisible to visible communion When Calvin links the church with the utmost clarity to God’s sovereign election, he withdraws it from all human control and thereby also from all human destructive power. It is God’s ‘invisible’ pre-election alone that gives the ‘visible’ church its certainty of existence in time and space. But at the same time, this election also forms the organizational law and vital principle of a church rightly calling itself ‘the communion of saints’. Already in his early years, Calvin’s ecclesiological slope begins with the hidden divine election and continues on to the visible human confession, enacted in word, deed, and sacramental communion: Consequently, the Lord, when he calls his own, justifies and glorifies his own, is declaring nothing but his eternal election, by which he had destined them to this end before they were born. […] Yet Scripture describes certain sure marks to us […] by which we may distinguish the elect and the children of God from the reprobate and the alien, insofar as he wills us so to recognize them. Consequently, all who profess with us the same God and Christ by confession of faith, example of life and participation in the sacraments, ought by some sort of judgment of love to be deemed elect and members of the church. They should be so considered, even if some imperfection resides in their morals (as no one here shows himself to be perfect).6

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When Calvin places the Lord’s Supper and the ban on participation at the center of his ‘practical’ ecclesiology from the start – his first Institutes of 1536 – then not least of all because the ‘marks’ he listed are portrayed in a sensory–symbolic manner in Holy Communion, and thus the ‘communion of saints’ itself. The Articles on Church Order of 1537, which Calvin and Farel presented to the Geneva Council with the goal of making out of the city on the Rhone a true communio sanctorum, begin with the programmatic words: It is certain that a Church cannot be said to be well ordered and regulated unless in it the Holy Supper of our Lord is always being celebrated and frequented, and this under such good supervision that no one dare presume to present himself unless devoutly, and with genuine reverence to it.7

After all, the Lord’s Supper was ‘ordained and instituted for joining the members of our Lord Jesus Christ with their Master and with one another in one body and one spirit’.8 This emphasis on the significance of the Lord’s Supper is undoubtedly connected, in Calvin’s eyes, with the necessity of the downside of the Communion celebration: establishing a ban on participation. As early as in the 1536 Institutes, Calvin pointed out the salutary value in what he saw as a praxis stipulated in the Bible: For this use have excommunications been instituted, in order that those may be withdrawn and expelled from the gathering of the believers who, falsely pretending faith in Christ, by worthlessness of life […], are nothing else than a scandal to the church, and therefore unworthy to boast in Christ’s name.9

The ban was an organizational measure that served to preserve the character of the Lord’s Supper as a corporeal–symbolic celebration of the ‘communion of saints’ in order to avoid the sacrament becoming what Calvin termed ‘soiled and contaminated’.10 With respect to the parties concerned, the practical, pastoral step to exclude them from the Lord’s Table for a time was not intended as a denial of community – it was rather a call to repentance with the goal of restoring a disrupted fellowship. Calvin also underlined the importance of Communion as the focus of church life in the Ecclesiastical Ordinances of 1541.11 According to Calvin, that which receives its symbolic expression in the celebration of the Holy Supper must in fact take shape in the entire life of the church. The first proposals on the order of a ‘Reformed’ church, which Calvin and Farel submitted to the Geneva Council in 1537, consisted of three texts: a confession of faith, a catechism and the above-mentioned ‘Articles’ as the actual church order.12 Thereby, three fundamental areas of



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action were raised that remained central to Calvin’s work in Geneva: measures to promote a confessional community, a teaching and learning community, and the real coexistence of Genevan society as a social community.

Confessing community According to Calvin, faith does not exist without confession. Therefore, a Christian community worthy of its name must be a confessing community. Calvin brought this conviction along from France to Geneva. His first Institutes, completed in exile in Basel, made this clear and were basically themselves nothing other than his profession of faith before Francis I and the general public, but at the same time they were designed to serve as confessional aid for his fellow French believers. 13 For the French Protestants, it was without doubt the open profession of faith, visibly executed through their refusal to attend mass, that signified the move from a mystical–biblical humanism to Evangelical faith. Calvin’s letters to former friends, now in the service of the Roman Church, and particularly his anti-Nicodemite texts make it sufficiently clear just how central an open confession of faith was for him too.14 Under the terms of a ‘city reform’ by resolution of the Geneva City Council, confession took on indeed another character, and its introduction and execution were accompanied by respective problems, as one look at Calvin’s first stay in Geneva reveals. After the Genevan ‘general town meeting’ of May 1536 had solemnly resolved to uphold ‘the Word of God’ in the future,15 the first steps were taken to make the Genevans familiar with its content and to empower them with their own confession. Accordingly, Farel and Calvin drafted a Creed16 ‘which each could use to declare his Christianity’.17 ‘For: with the heart a person believes, resulting in righteousness, and with the mouth he confesses, resulting in salvation’ (Rom. 10.10).18 After all, the ‘Articles’ say, there is no greater distinction than that of faith.19 First, ‘every single’ council member was supposed to swear a confession of his faith: ‘make in your council a profession by which it would be shown that the doctrine of your faith is really that by which all the faithful are united in one Church’.20 After that, a council member and a pastor should go from house to house requiring ‘each to do the same’.21 However, it soon became obvious that this step and resolution that the council had initiated overwhelmed the Genevan citizenry and finally encountered broad resistance. Also the attempt to replace individual confession with neighborhood confessions under oath failed, due to the passive resistance of large portions of the population. Nightly drunken ridicule highlighted public opinion on the folly of this attempt to transform Geneva into a ‘communion of saints’ in a matter of weeks.22

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The two Reformers had to acknowledge that the decision of the Genevan citizens to join the Reformation was not to be equated with a broad demand for ‘the’ true religion, but rather, largely a result of other motives. Moreover, the council elections in spring 1538 changed the political balance to their disadvantage. Immediately after Easter 1538, Calvin and Farel were expelled from the city for disobeying the authorities after they disregarded the Easter Sunday preaching ban and excommunicate all the citizens of Geneva from Communion, claiming that the people were too immature. Thus, a practice of communion as Calvin had envisaged it for an elect congregation destined to confession and sanctification was not inaugurated during his first sojourn in Geneva. Only after he was recalled to Geneva in 1541 was it possible to take practical steps that came at least a little closer to his theological ideal.

A teaching and learning community Even after his return to Geneva, Calvin adhered to his postulate of the church as a creedal community. Anyone elected to the office of pastor or elder had to vow an oath of loyalty, sobriety, and to selflessly fulfil the corresponding assignment. The church order of 1541 contained the respective vows.23 With a view to the citizens of Geneva, Calvin’s approach was now more distinctly marked by patient. Instead of an abruptly tendered confession of faith, adults could embark on the path of ‘catechism’. Calvin penned a new catechism articulated in the form of questions and answers.24 In due course, there was certainly consequent ‘formation’ in Reformed doctrine, however, the various requirements were taken into consideration, and the desire to promote the knowledge of faith was equated with the time that was accorded the people to acquire it.25 Adults were expected to learn the Lord’s Prayer by heart first and the Creed in their French mother tongue; ultimately, it was about understanding their faith. Lacking knowledge of faith led to an admonition to visit the pastor more often.26 At the same time, emphasis was placed on catechism classes for children; they had to prove their catechetic knowledge before being permitted to participate in the quarterly Holy Supper. A minimum of knowledge was also required of adults as a condition for taking Communion.27 The sermon was primarily understood in a pedagogical sense as a place of Christian instruction and became particularly important for educating and empowering people in their confession of faith: …that the Church is built up solely by outward preaching, and that the saints are held together by one bond only: that with common accord, through learning and advancement, they keep the church order established by God.28



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The organization that was built for this purpose is impressive: a staff on the average of seven pastors29 had to supply the city with sermons. According to the church order of 1541, 26 sermons a week were to be held in the city’s three churches. In addition to the regular textual sermons expounding entire Bible books, there were special catechism sermons for the youth, which adults were also allowed and expected to attend.30 Simultaneously, within the pastor’s collegium, Calvin attempted to establish a teaching and learning community gathered around the biblical Word. The church order of 1541 thus stipulated that ‘it will be expedient that all the ministers, for conserving the purity and concord of doctrine among themselves, meet together one certain day each week, for discussion of the Scriptures (…)’.31 This institution, then known as the congrégation de la compagnie des pasteurs, took place every Friday. In the first public part, one of the pastors presented a passage from scripture. Then the pastors discussed his exegesis. At a time in which no Reformed theological course of study existed, the purpose was ‘to see how carefully each one engaged in the study of scripture.’ Alongside this act of theological–exegetic supervision, the aim was to also cultivate unity of doctrine within the Genevan church, which was supposed to be achieved in joint discussion. ‘If there appear difference of doctrine, let the ministers come together to discuss the matter’.32 In the event of irresolvable dissent, the matter went to the Council of Elders for arbitration. But ultimately, the Geneva Council had ‘to put the case in order’.33 What Calvin hereby proposed was by no means new – like many of his church-related measures – but it fit with the institutional realization of the Zwinglian-Upper German Reformation as it had proceeded since the mid-1520s.34 Arguably, Calvin gave these regular ‘colloquia’ his own particular accent. They were: the best bond of unity in teaching because, if you do not consult together, every one can teach what they like. Solitude gives great freedom … Indeed, there is no greater means of treating laziness, no better way of nurturing unity of doctrine. Everyone helps in their own way, by talking or remaining silent. And such an exercise is not only beneficial to ministers but also, at least partially, to very many church members, who are particularly keen to understand Scripture.35

The regional synods belonged to the institutions of the Zwinglian-Upper German region as well; they convened in the Reformed towns sometimes on a regular basis and other times for special purposes, and Calvin  also regarded them as places for settling Genevan internal conflicts.36 Here as well, the idea was to create opportunities for reconciling theological, and church organizational questions, essentially, they were an association of ‘Reformed’ cities,37 albeit without a strict legal constitution. In  all the known cases of contention in Geneva, the opinion of the pastors, and often

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also that of the councils of sister cities, were sought, likewise in the case of Servetus, as during the arguments about Calvin’s Communion ban, or his quarrel with Bolsec concerning the doctrine of predestination.38 Further significant fruits of understanding the church as a teaching and learning community included the Genevan collège, in fact, Calvin campaigned against the manifold difficulties in support of its development and educational standard for years. The Genevan académie, an institution of higher education finally founded in 1559, despite financial problems was, of course, another yield from the same community ideal. Here pastoral training at the highest humanist and Reformed-theological level were offered, from which the French Reformed churches benefited in particular. By all the ‘fraternity’ among the pastors, Calvin still enjoyed a special position – due to his call back to Geneva, his intellectual abilities, and personality. Yet wherever people tried to unify differing theological views, conflicts ensued. Especially in the first years after Calvin’s return to Geneva, a large number of pastors were either transferred to rural parishes or withdrew completely. The reasons for this were variegated – differences of opinion regarding church polity, moral failings, disciplinary offences, doctrinal disagreements, and theological or pedagogical inadequacies. The enforcing body was always the Genevan Council, but usually Calvin’s voice carried the weight, and he used it to shape the pastor’s colloquium according to his ideas. In one case, the congregation of pastors even excluded a pastor who was supported and endorsed by the Council.39

Social communion For Calvin, the church as the ‘communion of saints’ had to, above all, prove itself in the field by shaping real community life. Precisely this is also symbolically depicted in the Lord’s Supper as a meal of fellowship. Accordingly, the overarching goal of his church order is to foster and preserve a social community (social communion). This was also behind Calvin’s well-known justification of ‘church discipline’ in the Institutes of 1543: …if no society […] can be kept in proper condition without discipline, it is much more necessary in the church, whose condition should be as ordered as possible. Accordingly, as the saving doctrine of Christ is the soul of the church, so does discipline serve as its sinews, through which the members of the body hold together, each in its own place.40

Again, it is the ecclesiological basic metaphor of the ‘body of Christ’ that is behind the idea: Calvin called for a living attestation of the church as communio sanctorum that includes a visibly unifying, and thus also binding



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‘order’ – the French understanding of the expression ‘discipline’ means the same thing. The same theological idea also lie behind the establishment of the Consistory, which was in fact composed of Council members and pastors set together as the Genevan Elders; it characterized their work as well. The Council’s task was to enforce this order as far as it concerned the Christian ‘spiritual’ communal life of Geneva. It is hardly surprising that this took place in the sociocultural framework of the early modern age. This applies to both the legal level and law enforcement, to the level of morality, and for determining behavioral regulations for ‘public’ and ‘private’ life. The idea that the Christian authorities and the church had a moral duty to educate people was taken for granted and is unmistakably reflected in the minutes of the Genevan Council and the Consistory. Calvin’s aim in enforcing ‘church discipline’ was, however, not merely an externally imposed adaptation, but a change of attitude based on insight. Notwithstanding his somewhat misleading use of language – ‘bridle’, ‘spur’, ‘a father’s rod’41 – Calvin’s church discipline was not directed toward the physical ‘body’ merely setting limits for outward behavior that quasi needed controlling. Rather, it is an appeal to the mind and will of those professing a ‘Christian’ way of life precisely through their participation in Communion. Hence also the stepwise procedure for the process of ‘admonishing’ wayward community members, in keeping with the community rule of Matthew 18. Even the last step, the vicarious pronouncement of a ban on participation in Communion by the Consistory on behalf of the entire congregation, biblically justified using a combination of Mt. 18.15-17 and 1 Cor. 5.5-11 occurred with the declared goal of fostering the insight of the person concerned, and thus, making it possible for them to be reintegrated into the community. However, apart from the fact that the Geneva Consistory never really took on the shape that Calvin desired, and although it did not lie in his direct intentions, but certainly as a consequence of Calvin’s ideas of collaboration between the civic authorities and the relative autonomy of the church, the Council soon equipped the Consistory with an ‘officer’, who frequently went into action with a division of his city guard. To be sure the Consistory limited itself, according to Calvin’s ideas and all the more those of the Council, to pronouncing admonitions and ‘spiritual’ sanctions, in effect, however, it frequently functioned as an investigative department in the service of the early-modern-Christian civil justice system. Although only a maximum penalty of exclusion from Communion could be imposed, later, failing to participate in the Lord’s Supper for an entire year entailed banishment from the city. One logical consequence of the common Christian and civic identity was that a public disparaging of the Genevan pastors – and their teaching – led to penalties imposed by the Council; after all, the

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authority of the Christian leaders and the legitimacy of the sanctioned church measures for which they were finally responsible were being challenged. What was inevitably later seen through the ‘enlightenment’ lens as a structural and practical contradiction – that a confessing church can hardly be imposed on the population through penalties – definitely possessed its own logic in the early modern age. Steps towards Christian – authoritarian ‘discipline’ and ‘social control’42 are counted among measures for ‘communitisation’43 and were broadly accepted in early modern cities, particularly after the religious and cultural upheaval of the Reformation, widely accepted by contemporaries, and seen as an urgent task for the Christian-civil leadership to realize. Through accommodation, mutuality, and a truly enforced law, the cohesion of an urban community should be ensured and strengthened, despite numerous remaining social differences. What Calvin attempted to promote beyond the normative elements of this task was a voluntary Christianly motivated community effort. The notion of reconciliation was an important component that, according to Calvin, was to characterize the work of the Consistory.44 A look at the Consistory protocols, quickly makes it clear that a large part of the work consisted merely in admonishing quarreling parties to conciliation and ‘Christian’ coexistence. A community that had been injured through wrong behavior and conflicts – be it a broken marriage or a neighborhood burdened by a slander charge – was to be restored. Especially just before the quarterly Communion service – the celebration of the ‘communion of saints’ – the citizens of Geneva were exhorted to seek mutual reconciliation and ceremonies were organized by the church to restore peace between disputing parties. Beautiful testimony to this is available from even Calvin himself.45 According to Calvin, if the parties were unwilling to confront their wrongdoing, there could be no reconciliation, but merely hypocrisy. This was, not Calvin’s psychological, but rather, theologically founded conviction, and it led to numerous conflicts. The position of the church within the Genevan ‘city republic’ consequently meant that ‘internal’ church matters likewise affected the sociopolitical community. The process of social ‘communitisation’, guided by the body-of-Christ concept, also profoundly shaped Calvin’s socio–ethical thoughts and acts. Calvin’s sermons are a notably rich fund of such examples. His key ethical concepts were ‘humanité’ (humanitas) and ‘equité’ (aequitas), thereby borrowing expressions from ancient ethics to find a Christian way of dealing with fellow human beings who are ‘made in the image of God’. The difficult relationship between the Genevan citizens and the numerous religious refugees streaming to Geneva was, for Calvin, the touchstone of a truly Christian church, confessing communion in the body



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of Christ through the Lord’s Supper. He emphatically insisted that hospitality to strangers was also a Christian duty and that pastors should set the example. Indeed, at the same time, Calvin also reminded the strangers of their responsibility. He likewise thematized the relationship between rich and poor in no uncertain terms: unlike the medieval institution of begging and giving alms, the ‘humanity’ Calvin called for is no special ethical service provided by individual Christians, but an enforceable right that each truly needy individual can claim before God from the community, insofar as they are also God’s image. And in addition we must maintain a connection (conjonction) and closeness (affinité universelle) to all people. For we know that we were created in the image of God, that we possess the same flesh, I mean the entire human race.46

Even regarding the question of charging interest on loans, permitted by Calvin in order to contain widespread usury, the decisive criterion is whether such a financial transaction will benefit both business partners in equal measure on the one hand, and over and above this, likewise, the entire community in which the transaction takes place.47 Thereby, Calvin’s action, motivated by the ‘body-of-Christ’ concept, did not end at Geneva’s city limits. Besides his continual commitment to the persecuted church in France, his constant efforts to achieve a collective Protestant agreement on the Lord’s Supper controversy is worth mentioning because the completion of the ‘Consensus Tigurinus’ finally marked a partial triumph.48

Calvin’s understanding of the church as the ‘communion of saints’: a contemporary challenge and opportunity Calvin’s doctrine of the church has experienced multifaceted interpretations throughout church history, invariably it has been linked to the contexts where his theology was supposed to bear fruit. What challenges and opportunities do a review of Calvin’s understanding of the church as a ‘communion of saints’ afford the ‘Reformed’ church in our twenty-first century Western cultural context? For today’s ‘historical–critical’ view of even one’s own Christian tradition, it goes without saying that every claim to relevance must grow out of the attempt to understand Calvin’s theologically motivated action in his day. At the same time, this claim can only occur on one’s own account and in light of the historical experience of the European ‘confessional age’. Such an approach to tradition is, however, absolutely consistent with the essence of Reformed Protestantism itself, which does not attribute a ‘standardizing’

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function (norma normata) for interpreting the Bible to either an ancient creed or a specific patristic figure. Toward an indiscriminate theological-dogmatic appeal to Calvin’s doctrine of the church, exemplary reification of time-bound early modern factors and constituents will serve to illustrate his thought and action, and, in this case, the real dangers of Calvin’s theological goals based on his actions will not be concealed. In terms of social history, Calvin’s work in Geneva belongs in the normative process of ‘communitisation’ in early modern cities. And as a theologically valid action, it was already disputed within the vicinity of the Zwinglian-Upper German city Reformation, not because of the goal, certainly, however, concerning the measures taken to achieve it. One point in case, is namely the Zurich Reformer Heinrich Bullinger, who thought that the way in which Calvin and Farel sought to reshape Geneva into a community of ‘confessing’ Christians in  1537 seemed somewhat over-zealous.49 Calvin’s firm advocacy of banning people from Communion, something that was in fact finally implemented by pastors, faced both exegetical and theologically founded opposition from other Reformation friends and colleagues beyond Geneva and was also questioned with a view to Calvin’s intended goal.50 At the same time, some attention should be given here to Calvin’s theological reasoning and motivation for his thought and Christian dealings as opposed to a merely social–historic ‘explanation’ of the Genevan city Reformation. It was his attempt to respond to the divine purpose of the church as the ‘communion of saints’ in a reformatory and biblically responsible manner that appropriately addressed the challenges of his age. The widely accepted common Protestant ‘marks’ of the church, the preached Word and sacrament, were hitherto only implicit, but in no way substantially present. Calvin also pointed to them as signs of recognition for the ‘visible church’, but phrased this in a typically ‘Reformed’ way, so that from the start there could be no misunderstanding that a minister preaching the ‘pure’ gospel and administering the sacraments could ever be sufficient criterion for the existence of a church. For Calvin and the whole Reformed tradition, it is not just that the Word is preached, but it should also be heard, and thereby take shape in people’s lives and the entire community. Accordingly, the pure ‘administration’ of the sacraments immediately becomes the ‘pure exercise of celebrating the sacraments’ by the entire congregation.51 Thus, it is no accident that Calvin’s recollection of the Reformation ‘marks’ of the church flow into the quote from Mt. 1.20, ‘For where two or three have gathered in My name, I am there in their midst’.52 This corresponds to Calvin’s constant reminder of the fact that also the human body, and therefore human social day-to-day lives are designed to be the ‘temples of the Holy Spirit’.53



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Hence the institutions of ‘ministering the Word of God’ and celebrating the sacraments are neither an end in themselves nor the actual goal of the church. They are rather necessary features demonstrating that the church is on its way, in keeping with its ‘invisible’ divine destiny; the church is underway on the path from the ‘invisible’ godly election through God in Christ towards an audible and socially tangible ‘communion of saints’. These are thus functions bound to the mission of the church. If one begins to read Calvin’s doctrine of the church, and does not begin prematurely with his work on proposed external structures, ministries and institutions, but rather joins together with Calvin and the Apostles’ Creed to ask at the onset – what is the mission and purpose of the church in the world – the doctrine of the church can ultimately only be stated with a view to pneumatology. Thus, simple concrete instructions or recipes for shaping Christianity in the twenty-first century are not to be found. But, Calvin can, however, stimulate rethinking the self-image and the redistribution of the actions of a ‘Reformed’ church as a ‘communion of saints’. In regard to this final thought, I offer the following theses: zzThe

church is inherently a place of learning, communication and education. According to Calvin, the church is a school from which a Christian community never graduates. In view of the completely different cultural communication traditions and the media, church as a teaching and learning community can only be realized as a space for manifold and complex communication processes. And at the same time, such a space must also be responsibly cared for and designed with a view to the orientation of its subject matter. For this reason, the immanent pluralism of Reformed congregations must be taken into account while also realizing that faith according to Reformed understanding means understanding the beliefs it includes. Understanding, on the other hand, does not exist without the active participation of ‘learners’. Instead of evocative ceremonies, empty rituals, and a culture of emotional response, Reformed Christians must insist on the central significance of the intellect and ‘teaching/doctrine’ as discursive interpretation of the Bible. zz‘True’ church must prove to be a place of experiential social communion and reconciliation, and as such become active beyond itself. At a time in which universal normative truth claims generally receive little public credit, such pragmatic proofs ‘of the Spirit and of power’54 are possibly among the most important and, if you will, ‘promising features’ of a church claiming to want to hear ‘God’s Word’. Assuming that Calvin’s proposed structure of ministries serves to promote the ‘communion of saints’, then bringing Calvin’s understanding of the offices into the ecumenical discussion is too narrow, if the question of the possibilities and

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dangers of the ‘communitisations’ potential is not also taken into consideration. Also the ‘missionary/sending character’ of the Christian church in the world, as developed in theologies of the twentieth-century on the basis of nineteenth-century experiences,55 can at its core definitely be tied to Calvin’s theologically justified acts in the context of the early modern Christian Genevan city republic. Then his insistence on distinguishing between the Christian church and civil society in Geneva was in no way an ecclesial separation, but rather committed to the goal that the latter would be penetrated by the former. Calvin’s constant advocacy for humanity, balance, and a sense of proportionality between the people in the city and beyond was nurtured by the expansion of the body-of-Christ concept to the socio–political ‘civil’ community. Insofar, it tends toward a ‘universal’ humanity and for the right of every person to be appreciated as the ‘image of God.’ zzIn this sense, the ‘communion of saints’ can only function, mind you, if it leaves itself and its environment with no doubt about its own calling and mission. If it is the ‘body of Christ’, which it is, it has to unambiguously confess Christ as its only ‘head’ and ‘leader’. It is not through the external definition of its margins, e.g. in the form of limited access to the Lord’s Supper, but through a constantly new orientation on its identitygiving center. In this manner, the ‘communion of saints’ receives – from Calvin staunchly stipulated – structure and contour, while at the same time remaining flexible. Social and religious pluralism in the contemporary context already make such confession inevitable in order to convey one’s own identity. And, at the same time, the ‘emancipation’ of different social realms from any monopoly on interpreting Christianity can liberate the church from wrong-headed claims to power and problematic attempts at domination, as well as from the drawbacks and risk of being instrumentalized for other purposes so that finally the result of a real confession will be possible. Perhaps this present Calvin interpretation has been a bold departure from the very precise ideas about the proper form of church office, sacrament, and church discipline, of the type undoubtedly encountered in Calvin’s writings and that often characterizes the approach of those who appeal to his ideas. Undoubtedly, the emphasis here lies more on the ‘earlier’ than the ‘later’ Calvin, and indubitably, even sometimes in Calvin’s writings, the spirit behind the letter must first of all be discovered. But the Genevan Reformer constantly reiterated the priorities himself. In Institutes 4 10.30 in reflection on rights and church structure it says: I mean that the Lord has in his sacred oracles faithfully embraced and clearly expressed both the whole sum of righteousness, and all aspects of the worship



Calvin’s Interpretation of the Church as the ‘Communion of Saints’  203 of his majesty, and whatever was necessary to salvation; therefore, in these the Master alone is to be heard. But because he did not will in outward discipline and ceremonies to prescribe in detail what we ought to do (because he foresaw that this depended upon the state of the times, and he did not deem one form suitable for all ages), here we must take refuge in those general rules which he has given, that whatever the necessity of the church will require for order and decorum should be tested against these. Lastly, because he has taught nothing specifically, and because these things are not necessary to salvation, and for the upbuilding of the church ought to be variously accommodated to the customs of each nation and age, it will be fitting (as the advantage of the church will require) to change and abrogate traditional practices and to establish new ones. […] But love will best judge what may hurt or edify; and if we let love be our guide, all will be safe.56

Notes   1. The expression ‘Reformation of the Church’ is hardly used by Calvin, and if so, following the Roman terminology, cf. e.g. CO 5, 465/466.511/512. The following Calvin texts are to be found in: J. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. by John T. McNeill, transl. by Ford Lewis Battles, Louisville/London, The Westminster Press, 1960 (reissued 2006) [quoted: Institutes]; J. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 1536 edition, transl. by F. L. Battles, Grand Rapids, MI, William B. Eerdmans, 1986 [quoted: Institutes 1536]; Ioannis Calvini Opera quae supersunt omnia, eds. G. Baum, E. Cunitz and E. Reuss [reprint of Braunschweig edition 1863–1900], New York, Johnson Reprints, 1964 [quoted: CO]; Joannis Calvini Opera Selecta, eds. P. Barth and W. Niesel, Bde. I–V, Munich, Chr. Kaiser 1926–1936, 1938 [quoted: OS]; Aimé-Louis Herminjaard (ed.), Correspondance des réformateurs dans les pays de langue française, 9 vols [reprint of the Geneva/Paris edition 1866–1897], Nieuwkoop, De Graaf, 1965–1966 [quoted: Herminjard].   2. Cf. John Calvin, Commentary to the Book of Psalms, transl. by James Anderson, Calvin Translation Society, Edinburgh 1845, xl.   3. Institutes 1536, 58f., 63 (OS I, 86, 91).   4. For more on this expression, see: Walter Schulz, Philosophie in der veränderten Welt, Verlag Günther Neske: Pfullingen 1972, 546.   5. The character and aim of this essay that is based on a previously discussed paper is usually limited to citations. For the background that is often merely suggested, please refer to the following: Bruce Gordon, Calvin, Yale University Press: New Haven & London 2009; Christoph Strohm, Johannes Calvin. Leben und Werk des Reformators, Verlag C. H. Beck: München 2009; Peter Opitz, Leben und Werk Johannes Calvins, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: Göttingen 2009. A collection of sources: “Annales”, CO 21, 189–818.   6. Institutes 1536, 58, 61, (OS I, 87, 89), our emphasis.   7. Articles concerning the ‘Organisation of the church and of worship at Geneva, 1537’, in: Jean Calvin, Theological Treatises, edited by J. K. Reid, The Westminster Press: London/Philadelphia 1954, 48.   8. Ibid., 50.   9. Institutes 1536, 61, (OS I, 89). 10. Articles 1954, 50.

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11. Cf. John Calvin, ‘Draft ecclesiastical ordinances’, in: Jean Calvin, Theological Treatises, edited by J. K. Reid, London/Philadelphia, The Westminster Press, 1954, 66f., 69. 12. Cf. CStA 1.1, 109–223. 13. See the title page of the 1536 Institutes, OS I, 19. 14. See Epistolae duae (1537), CO V, 233–312 and the ‘Excuse a Messieurs les Nicodemites’ (1544), CO VI, 589–614. 15. See CO 21, 202. 16. OS I, 418–26. 17. Articles 1954, 54. 18. Ibid., 54. 19. Ibid., 53. 20. Ibid., 53. 21. Ibid., 53. 22. On 12 January 1538, the minutes of the Council of the Two Hundred reported of disturbances during the night by drunken individuals going from tavern to tavern shouting ‘Are you also a brother in Christ?’ CO 21, 220. 23. CO 10/1, 101. 24. The Geneva Catechism (1542, Latin 1545), CO VI, 1–146. 25. CO 21, 303. 26. See e.g. CO 21, 292, 295f. 27. See CO 10/1, 104. 28. Inst. 4 1.5. 29. See W. G. Naphy, Calvin and the Consolidation of the Geneva Reformation, The Westminster Press: Manchester 1994, 58. 30. CO 10/1, 99. 31. CO 10/1, 96. English translation in: Jean Calvin, Theological Treatises, edited by J. K. Reid, The Westminster Press: London/Philadelphia 1954, 60. 32. Ibid. 33. Ibid. 34. Recalling the Zurich ‘Prophezei’ Bible school launched in 1525 and the pastoral synods of 1528, see J.-J. Hottinger and H.-H. Vögeli (eds), Heinrich Bullinger Reformationsgeschichte (reprint of the Frauenfeld edition of 1838), 3 vols, Theologische Buchhandlung: Zürich 1984, vol. 1, 289–91; vol. 2, 3f.; also F. Büsser, ‘“Prophezei” – “Schola Tigurina”. Prototyp, Ideal und Wirklichkeit’ , in: Institut für Schweizerische Reformationsgeschichte (ed.), Schola Tigurina. Die Zürcher Hohe Schule und ihre Gelehrten, Pano-Verlag: Zürich/Freiburg i. Br. 1999, 18–21. 35. Calvin’s letter of 22 October 1549 (CO 13, 433), German translation found in R. Schwarz (ed.), Johannes Calvins Lebenswerk in seinen Briefen, vol. 2, Neukirchener Verlag: Neukirchen 1962, 494. An Wolfgang Musculus. English translation for this paper. 36. Yet the political entanglements of the church contentions constantly complicated the matter, see e.g. CO 21, 223–7; CO 10/2, 190–3. 37. In their biographies, Gordon and Opitz enlarge on the often neglected immediate regional context that decisively shaped Calvin’s thought and impact (see note 5). 38. See e.g. B. CO 21, 554f., 560–2; CO 8, 231, 236, 240. 39. CO 21, 446–51, 509. 40. Inst. 4 12.1, our emphasis. 41. Inst. 4 12.1.



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42. R. W. Scribner, Sozialkontrolle und Möglichkeit einer städtischen Reformation, in: B. Möller (ed.), Stadt und Kirche im 16. Jahrhundert, Gütersloher Verlagshaus: Gütersloh 1978, 57–65. 43. To this central concept in Max Weber’s theory compare: Klaus Lichtblau, “Vergemeinschaftung” und “Vergesellschaftung” bei Max Weber. Eine Rekonstruktion seines Sprachgebrauchs, in: Zeitschrift für Soziologie, Jg. 29, Heft 6, Dezember 2000, S. 423–443. 44. This has been particularly illustrated recently by the work of Robert A. Kingdon, e.g. Adultery and Divorce in Calvin’s Geneva, Harvard University Press: Cambridge, MA, London 1995. 45. See e.g. CO 21, 418; Calvin’s letter to Farel of 21 August 1547, CO 12, 580f. 46. Sermon on 1Tim. 5.7-12, CO 53, 474; see Inst. 216 (OS I, 269). 47. See Calvin’s letter on usury, OS II, 392–6. 48. CStA 4, 1–38. 49. Herminjard, vol. 5, 9 (letter by Bullinger of 4 May 1538). 50. See here W. Kolfhaus, Der Verkehr Calvins und Bullingers, in: J. Bohatec (ed.), Calvinstudien 1909, Verlag von Rudolf Haupt: Leipzig 1909, 35–9. It would match the spirit of Reformed tradition not to allow its own origin to be defined by a single voice, be it that of Calvin, but rather to discover the much broader ‘cloud of witnesses’ (Heb. 12.1) within the founder generation of Reformed Protestantism, in order to be able to learn from their debates. 51. Inst. 4 1.9; Inst. 4 1.12. 52. Inst. 4 1.9. 53. Inst. 3 6.3. 54. Gottfried Ephraim Lessing, ‘On Proof of the Spirit and of Power , 1777’ in: Philosophical and Theological Writings, ed. and transl. by H.B. Nisbet, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 83–88. 55. Probably the best known is Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV/3. 56. Inst. 4 10.30.

Chapter 18

Calvin’s Doctrine of the ‘Civil Government’: Its Orienting Power in Pluralism and Globalization Michael Welker ‘In history’s page his reputation wavers, As party hate or favour sway the scale’. This line of Schiller about Wallenstein1 could also apply to Calvin. On the one hand, the great Reformer was not only a highly learned exegete of scripture and the author of the most important dogmatics of the Reformation. He is rightly honoured above, and along with, other Reformers and political leaders of his time as a central figure of the ‘history of freedom in early modernity’.2 It was precisely for this role that the Reformer Calvin, with his broad knowledge of law and the humanities, was dedicated a large monument in Geneva on his 400th anniversary in 1909. The development of modern science, historical–critical exegesis, the struggle for the separation of powers with regard to law and politics, including the right to resistance, and the beginnings of modern democracy owe a great deal to Calvin’s work. On the other hand, it was reportedly not without reason that Calvin, quite unlike Luther, was only honoured with a monument 400 years after his birth. His activities in Geneva had been too ambiguous – there was his rigid intolerance, his church discipline not based on the scriptures, his religious–moral harassment, mortification and persecution of his fellow human beings and even their execution. The names of ‘Castellio and Calvin’ became, respectively, synonyms for ‘tolerance and intolerance’, not least through Stefan Zweig’s publication.3 The names of ‘Calvin and Servetus’ represent the history of the terrible temptation to enforce religious convictions at all cost, including the death penalty. The following thoughts on Calvin and the strengths of reformed theology do not aim to opt for one or the other profile or ‘reputation’. Rather, they are meant to help us understand the range and tensions in Calvin’s personality and his activities. It is against this background that they intend to emphasize some groundbreaking theological insights at the end of his



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main work, insights that can still today serve as a model in the contexts of pluralism and the ecumenical movement.

Orientation in complex conflict situations Whoever wants to grasp Calvin’s character and work in person-to-person relations or conflicts, such as Calvin and Gruet, Calvin and Castellio, Calvin and Servetus, will end up with a vague and indeed wrong idea. Likewise, any effort to understand the Reformer and his merits only in his conflict with Roman Catholic theology and the papacy will fail. Calvin’s great achievement with regard to ecumenism and world history, and in particular his controversial actions in his second period in Geneva (1541–1564), have to be appreciated against the background of a multifaceted situation of conflict. The religious and theological controversy with the teaching of the church is an important element, but it is only one element of conflict among many others. Calvin, along with the other Reformers of high standing, entered this internal church conflict by insisting on the radical orientation to scripture (sola scriptura) and on the clearer knowledge of Christ (solus Christus). He met with strong resistance from the recognized academy – strongly represented in Calvin’s environment by the Sorbonne theologians in Paris. The reform of the universities, institutions of higher learning and the educational system as a whole, including elementary schools and spiritual education in families,4 intensely conducted by Luther, Melanchthon, Bucer, Calvin and other Reformers, cannot be overestimated as a motor for the modern history of freedom. The Reformation was a gigantic revolution of education. In going ‘back to the source’ with regard to history and philology, it offered an early form of, and a parallel to, the revolutionary turn to experiments in the modern sciences. ‘The Reformation and the scientific movement were two aspects of the historical revolt which was the dominant intellectual movement of the later Renaissance. The appeal to the origins of Christianity, and Francis Bacon’s appeal to efficient causes as against final causes, were two sides of one movement of thought’.5 In addition to the quarrels in the areas of church and theology, and in the fields of the academy and educational institutions, there were massive conflicts on the levels of law and politics that essentially contributed to the questionable and repulsive phenomena of the Reformation in Geneva. On the one hand, Calvin, time and again, had to grapple with the bourgeoisie in Geneva, which was not willing, without a struggle, to give up the religious, moral and political freedoms brought by the Reformation or to let them be drastically restricted.6 On the other hand, he had to fight against the resentment that ‘the French’ (Huguenots) met with in Geneva. They had

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come in large numbers and, as refugees, depended on the Swiss support. ‘For the period from October 1538 until October 1539 it is for instance documented that the hospital in Geneva supplied more than 10,000 needy strangers at least with the most basic goods before the attempt was made to encourage the majority to move on’.7 In order to appreciate the enormous charitable achievement of the Geneva population, we have to remember that the city then had hardly more than 10,000 inhabitants. On the one hand, the citizenry and the congregation in Geneva were diaconically challenged to the utmost, the more so as there was the constant threat and visitation of the plague. On the other hand, they felt religiously and morally controlled and regulated by an increasingly strong group of ‘French’ pastors and persons educated in law. Since even in these conflicts, Calvin, in agreement with the leading Reformers, spoke up for the separation of powers and for the secular authorities’ rights to govern, this was bound to result in an agitated and complicated history of the changing demarcations and coalitions between the secular and the clerical powers. The need emerged for an ever new adjustment from both sides of the competences and claims to power. This process was bound to result in a heightened loss of orientation and a heightened rigidity in the areas of religion, politics and morals. Time and again, the normative claims of the religious and political groups, institutions and of their spokesmen had to be examined, rejected or strengthened with reference to the law and in moral and political experiments. It is with disapproval or horror that we note, ‘In 1555, church discipline was exercised eighty times, one year later there were already twice as many cases, and from 1557 to 1561 the number tripled. In 1559 more than three hundred persons were excommunicated from time to time’.8 Calvin’s rigorous attitude will not be utterly condemned by a circumspect view, taking into account the extreme normative tensions and the explosive mix produced by the inclinations to exploit them simultaneously through chaos and through tyranny. During Calvin’s activities in Geneva, there was a boiling mixture of normative fighting on the way towards a church organized in a Protestant, freedom-loving manner, and to a pluralistic society that, correctly understood, had differentiated functional systems and a representative democracy. Strongly supported by law and education, the religious and political forces had to recognize, to strengthen and, at the same time, to restrain each other. For all participants, this was an extremely demanding process with lots of potential for conflict. In addition to the manifold conflicts among the internal societal interest groups and powers, there were international tensions and resentments. People rightly did not want to give up local traditions and privileges. They wanted to preserve, perhaps even to optimize, but by no means to jeopardize many



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good, old customs and orders. Reformation yes – but please, in measured steps. Thus, the slogan could have run. Time and again, the Swiss cities came to agreements on how to proceed in matters of religion, law and politics. We must not underestimate the fear of being overcome and burdened by negative developments in Germany, in France or other parts of Europe. This also accounted for the unsettled attitude of the religious and political spokesmen in Geneva towards Calvin and ‘the French’ whom he had integrated into the spiritual leadership. Any attempt to generate a final and balanced picture of Calvin’s character against this background will probably be doomed to failure. Over against this, an examination and critical acclaim of the amazing final chapter in his main work, Institutes of the Christian Religion,9 is illuminating with regard to Calvin’s clear orientation in the complex conflict situations in the religious and political fields.

Calvin’s doctrine of civil government As early as in Book III of the Institutes, Calvin had differentiated between ‘spiritual government’ and ‘civil government’. The former teaches human consciences piety and the worship of God; it is concerned with the soul and the heart. The latter government trains humans ‘in the duties of humanity and of civil life which are to be observed among human beings’, and it is concerned with ‘what belongs to the present life’, above all with the ‘outer morals’.10 At the end of the Institutes, Calvin surprisingly does not take up the doctrine of ‘spiritual government’ in order to link it with an end-time eschatology and thus to correspond to the classical dogmatic course from creation to the ‘final things’. The last chapter deals with the doctrine of ‘civil government’. Calvin was well aware of the confusion that he thus provoked with a book that was essentially meant to serve ‘spiritual instruction in faith’. In this final chapter, Calvin wants to protect faith from all those who aim at overthrowing the external order in barbarous ways, and from those who want to entrust the worldly powers alone with it. Both sides fail to recognize that the civil government is also given by God. Both sides thus jeopardize and even destroy the ‘purity of faith’.11 Calvin sees the danger that the freedom in faith given in Christ is not grasped clearly or that an indifference towards the civil orders or even an effort to get rid of them wrongly appeals to spiritual freedom as a witness. In this chapter, it rapidly becomes clear that Calvin radically rejects any populist mobilization of force to bring down public order. If one separates his statement that precisely for this reason scripture particularly

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orders us ‘to honor the king’ (Prov. 8.15; 1 Pet. 2.17), because this power of a single person ‘is the least pleasant of all’,12 then the superficial impression is quickly established that Calvin radically rejected anarchy, but was kindly disposed towards the monarchy. His division of the chapter – to treat the authorities first, then the laws and, lastly, the people and their ‘obedience’ to the authorities13 – easily strengthens this wrong impression. This approach completely fails to recognize the subtlety as well as the radicality of Calvin’s doctrine of civil government. In fact, Calvin develops a momentous doctrine of the right to resistance, even the duty to resist a tyrannical and unjust government. He does caution against the ‘devilish arrogance’ of anarchy, but emphasizes in a milder yet no less insistent way that magistrates appointed by the people are ‘to withstand, in accordance with their duty, the fierce licentiousness of kings’. For ‘if they wink at kings who violently fall upon and assault the lowly common folk’, they ‘dishonestly betray the freedom of the people, of which they know that they have been appointed protectors by God’s ordinance’.14 Calvin perceives various forms of such ‘magistrates of the people’, as he puts it, for instance within the three estates. It is extremely important to him to institutionalize resistance, to develop forms of transmitting responsibility from the beginning and, in the long run, to aim at the juridification of the new order. He is not so much led by the search for an alternative to unsuccessful risings, such as that against the Spartan kings or the Peasants’ War, as by a comprehensive theological view of God’s reign over the world in the history of humankind. The cantus firmus of Calvin’s explanations regarding civil government is the statement in Acts 5.29, ‘We must obey God rather than men’. If the authorities – in whatever form – command anything against God, ‘let it go unesteemed. And here let us not be concerned about all that dignity which the magistrates possess; for no harm is done to it when it is humbled before that singular and truly supreme power of God’.15 Calvin cites with approval several biblical examples of a refusal of obedience and resistance to the king. On the one hand, he is aware of the danger to those who resist, ‘The wrath of a king is as messengers of death’, Solomon says (Prov. 16.14). But he also sees the danger that people ‘with no authority’ want to place themselves in God’s place who, however, ‘broke the bloody scepters of arrogant kings and ... overturned intolerable governments. Let the princes hear and be afraid’.16 Calvin is concerned with nothing less than the understanding of responsible human life under God’s reign of the world. In order to follow his thought, we have to shed several well-established but wrong perceptions and opinions.



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1. The mistake of a fixation on one country only, on one form of government only and on one explosive situation only Calvin not only develops a ‘global view’ in the sense of a perspective on the political situation in Europe at the time. On the basis of his comprehensive biblical knowledge, he also develops a perspective on the world of the dimension of human history. This perspective confronts him with very different forms of government of varying quality, but also of varying degrees of danger. He himself prefers the aristocracy among the forms of government or ‘a system compounded of aristocracy and democracy’, since the separation of powers is to be welcomed and can best achieve not only the protection and advancement of freedom, but also the stabilizing balance of ‘freedom and moderation’.17 In our late-modern pluralistic societies, the balance of powers between systemic forms in politics, the economy, law, education, religion and other parts of the society, on the one hand, and the civil societal associations, on the other, corresponds to such a constellation envisaged by Calvin.18 This broad view enables Calvin to appreciate advantages and see disadvantages in forms of government in their times and locations without having to give up clear standards for development. The comprehensive biblical orientation, however, also enables him to discuss the highly vexing fact that despots such as Cyrus and even Nebuchadnezzar are regarded as tools in God’s hand, which means that political conditions that are deplorable in many respects must not be imagined to be somewhere beyond God’s reign over the world. The failure of the despots before God’s mandate is then hidden – as is sensitivity for the fact that tyranny is often connected with shortcomings on the part of those who suffer from it.19 For instance, they can become guilty because of indifference in this situation or because of their failure to act against the oppression. It is this connection of delusion and blindness that is veiled by the second mistake.

2. The mistake of perceiving the power of the authorities remoto Deo This mistake occurs on the basis of the good intention not to identify or confuse Christ’s kingdom and civil governments; it is based on the good intention to clearly differentiate between God’s government and worldly government. However, this important differentiation must not become a separation. Calvin cites a number of biblical witnesses according to which the authorities are appointed by God and figures holding public responsibility and power are regarded as not only approved, but also chosen by God. In some biblical traditions, he even connects human beings destined to become imago Dei with becoming ‘servants to divine justice’ in their public responsibility and ‘tools of divine truth’.20

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On the one hand, he makes it clear that election to this, as he puts it, ‘royal office’ must not be confused with the ‘Apostolic ministry’ to which Christ appoints human beings. On the other hand, he should have brought out more clearly that, while human rule can be arbitrary, forcible and detached from God’s will, it can only have an effective existence under the power of ‘divine admission’. Important corrections of Calvin’s doctrine of predestination and providence should also be made at this point. However, his concern to regard no worldly power as withdrawn from God’s judgement is to be accepted unconditionally. The converse conclusion that any rogue regime is to be attributed to God’s will, or even that all public power is to be identified with the kingdom of Christ, must, with Calvin, be persistently criticized and rejected. Any authoritative power has to be measured by whether, first, it strives to protect and further God’s justice and the worship of God corresponding to its appointment and, second, it is willing to serve ‘justice’, in particular the protection of the weak, as well as ‘the law’ and thus public order and social peace.21 In order to be able to fulfil their duty, the authorities have to be equipped with power, including the bloody use of force when they pursue crime and wage war. Calvin restricts war to the defense of one’s country (‘without obeying the ambitions’) and demands that a balance between ‘too much strictness’ and ‘too much mildness’ be found in the persecution of crimes.22 Time and again, Calvin makes such suggestions to find a balance in border situations, and he defines them in more detail with sensitive references to the given contexts.23 Thus, the authorities are by all means to collect taxes and, if necessary, emphasize their dignity through a certain ‘magnificence of their household’. However, they are to beware of ‘tyrannical predaciousness’ and keep in mind the fact that they administer ‘possessions of the entire people’ and that these possessions are above all ‘supports of public necessity’.24

3. The mistake of confusing the kingdom of Christ and civil government From the beginning of the Institutes, Calvin emphasizes that a religious reference to God’s majesty remoto Christo leads into ambivalence and finally into despair. It is only in Christ and in the power of his Spirit that we realize God’s love in his election and providence. It is only in the unity with Christ that we reach the knowledge of faith and the peace of heart and soul. The ‘Apostolic instructions’ of Jesus Christ and the New Testament seem to contradict many directions to establish civil government. Not to resist evil, not to retaliate, after being struck on the right cheek to turn the other cheek (Mt. 5.39), Paul’s condemnation of lawsuits (1 Cor. 6.5ff) – Calvin regards these and numerous other instructions as ‘apostolic’ pointers to a life of Christian discipleship and the kingdom of God.25



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It is important to Calvin that both love for God and love for one’s neighbour are factors that have to guide the establishment of civil government under the difficult conditions of public life. His differentiation between the ‘inward preparation of the heart’ for eternal life and ‘activity in public’ requires further theological reflection, especially since at certain points he considers interdependencies and transitions between both regimens. Here, the difficult difference and assignment of ‘law and gospel’ and his teaching of the tertius usus legis come into view. In his biography, Christoph Strohm has rightly emphasized that Calvin, the great theologian and exegete, cannot be understood without Calvin the humanist and jurist. The final chapter of the Institutes bears impressive witness to this connection. Calvin sees Paul’s rejection of lawsuits in the congregation as tackling excessive litigation. In his opinion, the establishment and the fostering of civil government that allows itself to be strengthened by the apostolic instructions of Christ in the love of God and one’s neighbour will have beneficial effects on the way individuals deal with the law. The accused is to appear before the court without bitterness, and the plaintiff is to make his complaint without greed, acrimony, vindictiveness and hate. A truly just handling of the conflict can only happen if each of them treats ‘his adversary with the same love and good will as if the business under controversy were already amicably settled and composed’.26 Calvin states that such a (so to speak) ‘cool’ handling of legal contentions and conflicts is likely to strike many people as a ‘wonder’. However, in the realm of civil government it would hold up a mirror, and reveal a glimpse of the reality that Christ’s government is about. True love of our neighbour develops from our stance of loving God and willingness to give thanks for God’s creative goodness and to give God the glory. This love seeks to empower and honour our neighbour without ignoring or calling into question the foundations of our common life. It has a clear orientation even in complex situations of conflict. It calmly engages ethics, the law, politics, education and religion with all their inner tensions and conflicts. After all, it sees all these ordering powers as directed not only towards loving our neighbour in a practical sense, but also towards forms and formations of community life that are pleasing to God. True love of our neighbour is thus always and primarily focused on glorifying God: Ad majorem Dei gloriam.

Notes   1. Prologue, Wallenstein’s Camp, 1789, translation 1830 (anon.).   2. Christoph Strohm, Johannes Calvin. Leben und Werk des Reformators, Munich: C. H. Beck 2009, 7 (in the following referred to as: Strohm, Calvin).

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  3. Stefan Zweig, Castellio gegen Calvin. Ein Gewissen gegen die Gewalt, Vienna: Herbert Reichner Verlag, 1936.   4. Cf. Strohm, Calvin, 64f (see note 2).   5. Alfred North Whitehead, Science and the Modern World (1926), Glasgow: Collins 1975, 19.   6. Highly instructive with regard to this aspect: Strohm, Calvin, 41ff, 60ff (see note 2).   7. Strohm, Calvin, 67 (my translation). For the following, cf. ibid., 68ff.   8. Strohm, Calvin, 90 (my translation), following William G. Naphy, Calvin and the Consolidation of the Genevan Reformation, Manchester/New York: Manchester University Press 1994, 178ff.   9. Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, The Library of Christian Classics, vol. XX and XXI, transl. by F. L. Battles, ed. by J. T. McNeill, Philadelphia/London: Westminster Press/S.C.M. Press 1960. 10. Inst. 3 19.15. 11. Inst. 4 20.1. 12. Inst. 4 20.7. 13. Inst. 4 20.3. 14. Inst. 4 20.5 and 20.31. 15. Inst. 4 20.32. 16. Inst. 4 20.32 and 20.31. 17. Inst. 4 20.8. 18. See Michael Welker, Kirche im Pluralismus, Gütersloh: Kaiser 1995, 2nd ed. 2000. 19. See Calvin’s detailed exegetical and historical considerations in Inst. 4 20.25-29. 20. Inst. 4 20.4, 20, 6f. 21. Cf. Calvin with regard to both tables of the law, Inst. 4 20.9. 22. Inst. 4 20.10-12. 23. See the subtle considerations in Inst. 4 20.16; but also Strohm, Calvin, with regard to Calvin’s knowledge in law and historical exegesis, 22ff and 119ff (see note 2). 24. Inst. 4 20.13. 25. Cf. Inst. 4 20.19-21, but also 20.1. 26. Inst. 4 20.18.

Index Accra Confession  104–5 The Afrikaners  159, 168 anti-Calvinist rules and regulations  49–50 apartheid system ethics  166 ideology  159 love commandment  166 love one’s neighbour  166 official defence and public justification  166 public/private life  169 right to survival (voortbestaan)  171 rule of Bible  167 self-determination (selfbeskikking)  171 struggle against  171–2 survival with justice  171 ‘apostasy from the faith’  22 Articles on Church Order of 1537  192 boundless enslavement (matelose verknogtheid)  161 Calvinism, travel to America ‘puritan migration’  50 ‘puritan’ movement  49 Susanna Bell’s story Calvin’s understanding of piety  53–4 child’s death as decisive intervention  49 civil war in England  53 covenant vow, church formation  52 economic/social/spiritual motives  50 English Reformed Christians, settlement by  48 ethos of Reformed Christianity  53–4 first voyage across Atlantic memories  51 godly migrants  50–1 God’s acts, interpretation  49 God’s Providence, act of  48 Heb. 11.13 and God’s people  53 Heidelberg Catechism, teaching from  51 New England and spiritual confusion  52 for New World  49

‘real work of God’  52 Reformed church, strategy for  53 Reformed tradition, history  48 Roxbury church and  51–2 spiritual assurance  52 troubles in England  49–50 ‘Calvinist Afrikaners’ and ‘liberal English-speaking people’  160 Calvinist churchmanship and preaching  158 Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries  16 Calvin’s theology church anti-Rome polemics, view of  136 CA 7, role of  135–6 church organization and  136 covenant, baptism as witness  137 ecumenism and doctrine of church  137–8 individuals, Christian life of  135 marks of  135 mother church, regarding as  135 and Protestant ecclesiology  137 Protestants and  134 Roman Catholic view, comparison  135–6 Roman Church, view on  137 true church  135 unity, hope for  138 Genevan Reformer, ecumenicity of Calvin’s doctrine of church and traditional Roman Catholic ecclesiology  128 Calvinus catholicus, Catholic Calvin research  128 church renewal  127 cross-fertilization of learning  129 factors responsible for  128 Ganoczy, Alexandre’s views on  127–8 movement and wealth  127 as subjective and objective Catholic  127–8 justification and sanctification

216 article of justification, importance  131–2 Barth, Karl and  133 Calvin’s soteriology basis  132–3 Christian freedom, misunderstanding  133 Christian life, effects of Holy Spirit  132 origin of  134 preaching, effects of  133 reformation doctrine of  133–4 sixteenth-century Reformation  131 Reformation and ecumenism central concern of  130 Cyprian and  130 defined  130 early church, view of  129–30 God and humankind, relationship  131 narrow interpretation of  131 non-Reformation tradition  129 questions regarding  129 renewal of church, essential condition for  129–30 ‘capitalistic system’  177–8 Carey Newman’s 1992 study of Paul’s Christology  7 catholicism and protestantism  49–50 childhood, Calvin’s view  4–5 children and church church instruction Anabaptists and  59–60 books on  59–60 catechism for  59–60 confirmation classes  59–60 emotional learning  60 holy Communion  59–60 covenant Aquinas, Thomas, view on  58 Calvinistic and Reformed radition  58 congregation community  58–9 as people coram Deo  58–9 teaching side of  58 and young people  58 love relationships as covenant between God and human­kind  63 external simplicity and internal stability  61–2 marriage and parents consent  62 person of another/no faith, marriage with  62 young love, ideas on  61 parents good education, obligation for  59 learning and knowledge of God  59

Index pampering and punishing, way between  59 school lessons good teachers and  60–1 Schola Publica and Schola Privata department  60–1 students, instructions for  60–1 traditional adults, difference with  56–7 baptism and faith  56–7 childhood, medieval stages  56 job, forgiveness for sins of children  57–8 parent–child relationship  58 positive characteristics of  57 theological viewpoint on sin in  56 youth, judgement on  57 Christian ethics and Calvinism  170 love for neighbour and self  164–5 Christianity  132 The Christian Life  177 Christian spirituality in early modern age approach, central point of  185 Colloquia Familaria  185 death in Western civilization  185 Erasmus text  186 pastoral effects  186 Praeparatio ad mortem, pastoral effects  186 relationship to God and death  186 The Shipwreck and forms of piety  185 Institutes III  9 ars moriendi, tradition  183–4 beneficent didactic nuisances  182 biblical eschatology  183 Christian life, features of  181–2 death, spiritual meditation about  183 dualist grace of God  184 earthly life and  182 fear of death, Calvin’s criticism  183–4 ‘future immortality,’  183 God’s wrath and revenge  184 as pastoral application  184–5 plan of salvation  182 reformer, cosmological and anthro­pological  183 sinful maltreatment of God’s creatures  184 stoic tradition  182 theological thoughts and philosophical connections  184–5 transience (vanitas), impact of  182 meditatio futurae vitae bioethics, challenges of  188 Christian message, core of  187



Index

contemporary Christian sensibility  188 death, repression of  187 eschatology, connection with  187 God’s Kingdom, historical and cosmic side  188 individual life and impact of faith  188 last phase of life, questions  188 meaning and significance  181 reflection about human life and mortality  187 reformer’s question  187 Church as ‘communion of saints’,   Calvin’s interpretation Apostles’ Creed, consideration for  190 communio sanctorum, meaning of  190–1 confessing community ‘city reform’ terms by Geneva City Council  193 faith, relation with  193 French Protestants and  193 practice and effects  194 contemporary challenge and opportunity Christian tradition, historical–critical view  199–200 invisible divine destiny  201 preached Word and sacrament  200 rights and church structure  202–3 as school  201 social history  200 true church and social communion/ reconciliation  201–2 Zurich Reformer Heinrich Bullinger  200 early modern Genevan city reform  191 invisible to visible communion Articles on Church Order of 1537  192 Calvin’s ecclesiological slope  191 church life, focus of  192 God’s sovereign election and church  191 Holy Supper, celebration of  192–3 Lord’s Supper, instituted for  192 proposals on order of ‘Reformed’ church  192–3 salutary value  192 ‘reforming’ church  190 social communion ‘body-of-Christ’ concept  198–9 Christian–authoritarian discipline and social control  198 ‘church discipline,’ justification of  196–7 conflicts and mutual reconciliation  198

217

consistory, establishment of  197 council’s task in  197 Genevan citizens and religious refugees, relationship  198–9 penalties imposed by Council  197–8 urban community, cohesion of  198 teaching and learning community catechism classes for children  194 church as creedal community  194 colloquia  195 conflicts in theological views, reasons  196 congrégation de la compagnie des pasteurs  195 faith, lacking knowledge of  194 Genevan collège and Genevan académie  196 organization for  195 in pastor’s collegium  195 sermon, importance of  194 Church Dogmatics  128 churches biblical theology  5 Calvin as Reformer  87 Calvin’s understanding of  4 catholic church baptism and Roman Church  90 church disciplina, need for  91 CJC study  92–3 essential and secondary teachings  92 fundamental and secondary articles of faith  93 hypocrites and  91 Lutheran/Reformed and United churches  92–3 Roman Church and  93 true church, visible church as  91–2 Turretini, Franz, Reformed theologian from Geneva  92 as universal entity  90 visible and invisible, distinction  90–1 Wahrzeichen, mutual ordering  92–3 word and sacrament reality and  91–2 concept of Augsburg Confession (CA) and Lutheran confession, definition  88 Calvin’s understanding and ‘Protestant’ concepts, discrepancy  89 as communion, reflection on  90 description  88 divine dimension of  88–9 ecclesiological reflection  89 gallic Confession of Faith/Helvetica Posterior  88

218 mother, church as  88–9 future by Paul (see also Church; ‘glory of God’) Institutes  6 ‘theater of God’s glory’  6 and ‘glory of God’  9–10 Calvin’s comment  11–12 comment on Roman  15,  12 confessing  11 and Corinthians  10 discussion in 1 Corinthians  7,  10 ekklēsia  10 gospel  10 Jesus Christ, death and resurrection  10–11 life  9–10 notion of Jew and Gentile  11 Paul’s mission  10 powers of Sin and Death  10 practices  11 praising God  11 reformed theology  12 restrictions  11 tradition of Luther’s commentary  11–12 unity of believers  11–12 from worship practices  10 interpretation  156 ministry apostolic ministry of Paul in Corinth  94–5 authority and order (disciplina)  95 basic consensus points and Calvin’s approaches, similarity  93–4 Christ’s ministry and  93–4 educational measures, distinguish  95–6 reformation churches, challenge for  95–6 Roman theology, closeness to  95 special ministries  94 true ministry, criterion of  94–5 paths to unity Christ as sole ground  96 church unity, view on  96 congregation members, need for real-life witness  97 current ecumenical thinking and  98 Luther and Zwingli dispute and  97 non-doctrinal factors of  96 reformation of Church, Calvin’s attitude towards  97 reformed congregations and churches  97 tensions and division, reasons for  96 theological dispute  96–7 unity and concord, attachment to  87

Index The Church of Jesus Christ (CJC)  92–3 ‘civil government’, Calvin’s doctrine anarchy, view on  209–10 authorities remoto Deo, power of  211–12 complex conflict situations church teaching  207 Geneva, citizenry and congregation in  208 Germany/France, negative developments in  208–9 Institutes of the Christian Religion  209 internal church conflict, reasons for  207 international tensions and resentments  208–9 in law and politics  207–8 reformation and scientific movement  207 religious and theological controversy  207 separation of powers  208 fixation on one country only  211 God’s reign, theological view of  210 kingdom of Christ  212–13 public order maintenance and  209–10 range and tensions  206–7 reformer Calvin as central figure  206 responsible human life, understanding  210 ‘spiritual government’ differentiation  209 civil government, teaching on  157 CJC see The Church of Jesus Christ (CJC) collective self-preservation  170 Colloquia Familaria  185 commentary on Epistle to Ephesians 4.5  106 commentary on John 17.21  106 “communion of the saints”  156 community of Protestant Churches in Europe (CPCE)  92–3 compassion  174 confession  156 Confession of Belhar  176 Country of My Skull  172 Credo van‘n Afrikaner (Credo of an Afrikaner)  171 death fear  156 The Desire of Nations, Common Objects of Love  175 Die Bedeutung des Protestantismus für die Entstehung der modernen Welt (translated as Protestantism and Progress)  177 Die Kerkbode  159, 163

‘Die mens in verhouding tot homself ’ (‘The human person in relation to himself ’)  162–3 Die NG Kerk en apartheid  165–6 Dutch Reformed Church (DRC)  159 Dutch Reformed, role and position of  166 General Synod of  164 ecclesiastical Ordinances of 1541  192 ecumenism ‘catholic’ theologian  83 christendom  83 churches clear ethical positioning  85 place-related contextual shaping  83 unity maintenance  84 viability, view on  84 Cyprian, learning from  84 diaspora and refugee congregations  84–5 ecclesiology and covenant theology  83 justification and sanctification, relations between  85 model of reconciled diversity  85 modern denominationalism  84 Reformation, understanding of  84 ‘egotism’  170 England’s Protestant Reformation  49–50 eschatological hope  8 eschatology by Calvin  10, 155–6 eudaemonism  172 Augustine’s  173–4 Wolterstorff views  174 exegeses by Calvin  155 love commandment  160 ‘false prophecy’  162–4 Father’s glory  8 Geneva church model  87 Geneva collège (school) and académie religious education and theological training  156 Genevan Reformation  3, 157 ‘glory of God’  3–4 in Romans adamic glory  7–8 Baruch 4.5–5.9  9 Calvin writings  6 with God’s judgement  9 Habakkuk  3, 9 Hodayoth  9 hope  8 incorruptibility  7 Jesus Christ  8 from Jewish literature  7 Paul’s letters  7–8

Index

219

Paul’s theology  7 review of evidence  8 septuagintal texts, God’s presence  8 sin and Death to humanity’s refusal  7 song of Moses in Exodus  15, 9 struggle between God’s forces and enemies  9 God in creation living image Aristotle’s statement on humanity on  43 astrology and  37–8 attainment  36 and beauty  36 Calvin’s theology  33–4, 36 church, learnings for  44–5 contemplation of universe  37 cycle of life and death  42–3 earth atmosphere and  39–40 face of  40–1 finitude/death and life, view on  44–5 goal of  33 good things, enjoyment of  42 heaven contemplation of  37 and earth considerations  34–5 power of God and beauty  39 infinite nature  43–4 interpretation in Institutes  33 Jesus Christ cross representation  34 faith in  34–5 self-disclosure  33 self-revelation of God  33–4 knowledge of  34 life of creatures and  41–2 meteorological phenomena  40 motion, harmony and constancy  38 powers/perfections of  36 Psalm 8 and condescension of God  41–2 self manifestation and effects  33 seventh day as meditation, reason for  36 transcendence, awareness  37–8 universe as object in  35 wisdom  38 works, contemplation  43–4 world as school  35 theatre of God’s glory  35 grant-the-other ethical rule  167 hermeneutical principles of Institutes  18–19 hermeneutical themes in Calvin’s exposition of 1Tim. 4.1-5 context faith in Christ and  24

220 God, true worship of  24 historical  23–4 human consciences, unlawfully binding  24 scriptural, appeal to  24 teachings and warnings  24 divine accommodation  21 doctrine as interpretative framework for scripture Christian freedom  25 Trinity  25–6 gospel and edification of church God’s fatherly care  25 pastors/teachers and lordship of Christ  25 Paul and Spirit distinguish between  22 ‘instrument of Christ’ as  22 prophecy  22 spirit’s teaching access  22 scripture Bible, central message  22 centrality of Christ  23 Christ and Spirit, connection  21, 22–3 Christian freedom  23 and false teachers  21 God and goodness of creatures  22 gospel, true preachers of  21 justification in Christ, foundational role  23 Hodayoth  9 holy Word of gospel  21 human relationships being-oneself (selfwees) and remainingoneself (selfbly)  163 form of existence (bestaanswyse)  163 self-affirmation  163 self-awareness and self-knowledge  163 individuals and morals  168–9 Institutes Calvin’s interpretation  5 Christian freedom in as aspect of justification  19 church, laws and traditions  20–1 ‘law of grace,’ acceptance with  19–20 parts of  19–20 qualifications for  20–1 commentaries and Bible, belief in  17 biblical texts, expositions  16–17 Calvin as exegete and theologian  17–18 difference  15 French edition preface of  17–18

Index functions served by  17 gospel  18 hermeneutical principles  18–19 Pauline epistles to Romans  18 systematic theology  17 virtue of ‘lucid brevity’  16–17 editions final  17 French  15 Latin  15 on Romans  16 Institutes of the Christian Religion  209 “intra-mundane” asceticism  178 Israel history, God’s action in  8 jurisdiction of Church  20–1 justice Calvin’s study on  172 reformed conception of  173 Wolterstorff’s argument  172–3 Justice  172 Kitwe Declaration  176–7 La pensée économique et sociale de Calvin  101 The Legacy of a Dying Mother to her Mourning Children  49 life in society Calvin and Calvinism  179 by Ernst Troeltsch  177 ‘tyrannical power’  178 life of consultation (beraad)  163 light of God’s glory  3–4 ‘liquidation’ of self  161 living tradition, Alasdair MacIntyre’s description  158 love of neighbour  155 see also self-love and self-preservation manichees and Montanists  24 Meditatio futurae vitae (meditation on the future life)  156 moral man and immoral society, Niebuhr distinction  155, 168 The Nature and Destiny of Man  170 Netherlands, Reformed Churches in  166 New Testament material Calvin’s reading of  162 scholarship  6 use  161 non-Reformation tradition  129 non-Reformed churches in World Council of Churches  167 orthodoxy  15



Index

Parousia  10 polemic interest  169–70 political realism  169 practical ecclesiology  156 Praeparatio ad mortem  186 ‘preoccupation with self ’  170 The Problem of Self-Love in Augustine  175 protestantism  170 ‘puritan’ movement  50 New England, settlement in  49 protestantism in England, strand of  49 reformation  129–30 and ecumenism central concern of  130 Cyprian and  130 defined  130 early church, view of  129–30 God and humankind, relationship  131 narrow interpretation of  131 non-Reformation tradition  129 questions regarding  129 renewal of church, essential condition for  129–30 theology, synthesizing and systematizing  15 reformed Ecumenical Synod  166 reformed faith and Calvin  159 reformed vision  158 Roman Church and Reformation movements, tension between  156–7 Romans  69 Samaritan (Luke 10)  161 sanctification as God’s second grace  85 scepticism  165 scripture Augustine’s reading of  173 Calvin as model bible as Word of God  16 biblical hermeneutics development  16 Calvinist orthodoxy  15 hermeneutical principles  18–19 holy Scripture, understanding  15 Institutes and commentaries (see Institutes) reformation theology  15 work, purpose of  15 Calvin’s exposition of 1 Tim. 4.1-5 hermeneutical themes (see Hermeneutical themes in Calvin’s exposition of 1 Tim. 4.1-5) Calvin’s position in interpretation Bible, allegorical interpretation  144

221

Bible study groups and  142–3 conversion, reason for  142 credibility/reliability, reference  143 human individuality and failings  143–4 labyrinth metaphor and subjectivity  143 principle of self-interpreting scripture use (see self-interpreting scripture principle) touchstone metaphor as foundation of judgements  144 understand, willingness to  143 Luther, young reformer bible as individual  141–2 Calvin’s position in (see scripture) graphic terms expression  141 judge, Bible as  142 judgement criteria  142 Pope Leo X, conflict between  141 reformation theology, sola scriptura principle of  141 ‘self-deception and hypocrisy’  170 self-denial and crucifying oneself  161 self-destruction  161 self-fulfilment (selfverwerkliking)  161 self-interpreting scripture principle church’s ministry community  145–7 ecclesiastical and theological servants  147 humankind salvation  146 Luther, difference from  146 pastors and teachers  146 understanding of apostolic office, difference  147 Word, proclamation and interpretation  146 scholarly exegetes, importance comprehensible material and person, relationship  145 misunderstandings, cause of  145 unscholarly behaviour, avoidance  145 ‘Selfliefde en Selfhandhawing’ see self-love and self-preservation self-love and self-preservation  159 care for themselves  160 DRC journal on  162 essence and heart (wese en innerlike kern) of sin  162 grant (gun)  160, 167 language of  162 love of God and neighbour  160–4 love of Jesus Christ and  162 moral responsibility (eerste sedelike plig)  160

222

Index

norm (maatstaf),  160 ‘their own’ (‘hulle eie’)  160 self-preservation (selfhandhawing)  155 The Shipwreck  185 social communion ‘body-of-Christ’ concept  198–9 Christian–authoritarian discipline and social control  198 ‘church discipline’, justification of  196–7 conflicts and mutual reconciliation  198 consistory, establishment of  197 council penalties imposed by Council  197–8 task in  197 Genevan citizens and religious refugees, relationship  198–9 urban community, cohesion of  198 social ethics and cultural critique  156 South Africa Afrikaans media in  166 Calvinist philosophical strands in  162–3 Dutch Reformed churches role  155 justification and defence of apartheid  159 policy of liberation (‘n bevrydingsbeleid)  167 ‘racial issues’ in  166 reformed faith in  169 reformed legacy for public life  158–9 right as volk  159–60 stoic notion of love and Christian love  161 The Tenderness of Conscience African Renaissance and the Spirituality of Politics  159 ‘theater of God’s glory’  6 theology, Calvin and Barth controversial theologians Christian freedom, concern for  66–7 freedom as problem for  67 society, position in  66–7 free individuals and church Christian freedom and Enlightenment  71–2 Christian life context  72–3 emphasis, differences of  72 faith in God’s work and right life  72, 74 fundamental agreement, aspects  71–2 God’s children/partners, freedom of  73

holy Spirit, dependence of human beings  72–3 human freedom  73 privatization and Christian freedom  73 reality as realm of freedom  74 God and human beings in context of wisdom  70 expected freedom  70 human salvation and theology  71 knowing God  70–1 reformers, different view of  71 theological hermeneutic  71 Kirchenkampf (church struggle)  65 in public debates  65 reformations church and its life  68–9 counter-Reformation, ground for  68 dual achievement of  68–9 faith, belief on  70 Luther/Calvin as tragic figure  69–70 second turn of Calvin’s Reformation, view on  69 social history as basis  68 Swiss and Wittenberg Reformation, relation  67–8 responsibility, church and community  65 transience (vanitas) of earthly life  182 trinity  25–6 unrestricted directedness towards (ongereserveerde gerigtheid op) neighbour  161 Until Justice and Peace Embrace  172 The Ways of Judgment  175 World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC)  85–6, 176–7 Blaikie, William on future of  112 Christian unity commentary on Epistle to Ephesians 4.5  106 commentary on John 17.21  106 division, new forms of  108 divisions in church as chief evil  105–6 Eucharist, celebration of  107 Europe to Americas migratory patterns and  107 gender justice  108 gifts of women, view on  107–8 reformation leaders, correspondence with  105–6 tribal churches in Africa  106 deliberations  112–13



Index

on dialogue with Rome  117–19 ecumenical movement  121 policy  115–16 Roman Catholic dialogue and  119–20 Roman Catholic–Reformed encounter and  123–4 social justice accra Confession, verses of  104–5 economy, justice in  103 environmental protection issues  103 financial crisis and  104 global economic systems, effects  102 La pensée économique et sociale de Calvin  101 New Testament Commentaries  102 opposition to social oppression  102 refugees in Geneva, attention to  103–4 rich and poor, disparity between  102 scripture reading, inspiration from  104 social transformation, vision for  101–2 and theological analysis  104 theological leadership, instruction to  116 and Vatican II  113–14 World Presbyterian Alliance and  112 World Council of Churches (WCC) Cardinal Sadoleto Blaikie, William on future of WARC  112 Cardinal’s argumentation, elementary form  110–11 church, gratitude for  110–11 faith and order, Calvin’s view on  111 Latin Church, teaching and practice of gospel  111 Presbyterian Alliance on union of  112 reformed ecumenicity, contemporary practice  111–12 reformers as enemies of Christian unity  111 WARC deliberations  112–13 on denominational pre-eminence alliance as provisional denominational instrument  124 catholicity of church  122 ecumenical policy  121 first 1964 document  121–2 Lutheran World Federation  121, 124 presbyterianism  121 reformed Alliance  122 reformed heritage and  123

223

second 1964 document  122 third 1964 document  123 WARC and ecumenical movement  121 WARC and Roman Catholic– Reformed encounter  123–4 world denominationalism, perils by  121 Roman Catholic Church, dialogue with Anglican–Roman Catholic Joint Preparatory Commission  114–15 Catholic–Methodist Joint Commission  114–15 Catholic–Reformed relations, appraisal  115 Cluj decision, implications  116 Lutheran World Federation and WARC  115 New WCC–Vatican dialogue  115 Smith, Richmond, view on  116 theological agendas, duplication  117 WARC policy  115–16 WARC theological leadership, instruc­tion to  116 Vatican II and WARC first session reports  113–14 observers, primary purpose  113 role of observers  113–14 Roman Catholic Church, ecumenical engagement  114 WARC Executive Committee meeting  113 WCC, Third Assembly of  113 WARC internal theological debate bilateral dialogue as concentric circles  118 Christendom, catholic and ecumenical theology  118 Christological misunderstandings and  118–19 continuity and identity, relation between  119 reformed Churches and Catholic Church, talks between  117 Roman Catholic Church, conversations with  117 Rome-centred dialogue  118–19 WARC–Roman Catholic dialogue, preparatory meetings Catholic–Reformed conversations, influence  119–20 main reflection of  120 theme, two position papers  120