Children of God: The Imago Dei in John Calvin and His Context 9783666569180, 9783525569184, 1534154267, 1543155878

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Standard-Titelei 15,5 x 23,2 cm

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Reformed Historical Theology Edited by Herman J. Selderhuis in co-operation with Emidio Campi, Irene Dingel, Wim Janse, Elsie McKee

Volume 11

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

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Jason Van Vliet

Children of God The Imago Dei in John Calvin and His Context

Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht

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Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.d-nb.de abrufbar. ISBN 978-3-525-56918-4

© 2009, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen / www.v-r.de Alle Rechte vorbehalten. Das Werk und seine Teile sind urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwertung in anderen als den gesetzlich zugelassenen Fällen bedarf der vorherigen schriftlichen Einwilligung des Verlages. Hinweis zu § 52a UrhG: Weder das Werk noch seine Teile dürfen ohne vorherige schriftliche Einwilligung des Verlages öffentlich zugänglich gemacht werden. Dies gilt auch bei einer entsprechenden Nutzung für Lehr- und Unterrichtszwecke. Printed in Germany. Druck- und Bindung: b Hubert & Co., Göttingen. Gedruckt auf alterungsbeständigem Papier.

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Contents

Preface ......................................................................................................... 11 1. Introduction .............................................................................................. 13 1.1 Calvin‟s view of human nature: notoriously pessimistic? .............. 14 1.2 Lack of attention to Calvin‟s anthropology .................................... 16 1.3 Pertinent and persistent issues......................................................... 19 1.3.1 Difficulties in defining the imago Dei .............................. 19 1.3.2 Coherence? ........................................................................ 22 1.3.3 Influx of Greek philosophy? ............................................. 24 1.3.4 Is Calvin another Zeno? .................................................... 26 1.3.5 Imago Dei and gender equality ......................................... 27 1.3.6 Did Calvin reform the doctrine of humanitas? ................. 29 1.4 A contextual approach .................................................................... 30 1.5 A homiletic point of departure ......................................................... 32 2. The Imago Dei in the Ancient and Medieval Church ............................. 34 2.1 Designed: The Image of God in the Garden ................................... 36 2.1.1 “Let us make man in our image” ...................................... 36 2.1.2 The seat of the image ........................................................ 42 2.1.3 All creatures great and small ............................................. 44 2.1.4 “Let them have dominion” ................................................ 45 2.1.5 “Male and female he created them” .................................. 46 2.2 Ruined: The Image of God outside the Garden .............................. 52 2.2.1 Effaced or defaced? ........................................................... 52 2.2.2 Looking for remnants among the ruins ............................. 54 2.3 Restored: The Image of God in Christ ............................................ 54 2.3.1 The eminently qualified Son ............................................. 54 2.3.2 From glory to glory ........................................................... 57 2.3.3 Dabbling with deification.................................................. 58 2.4 Summary ......................................................................................... 60 3. The Imago Dei in the Writings of John Calvin ....................................... 63 3.1 Approaches and Aims ..................................................................... 63 3.2 Laying the Foundations: 1534–1542 .............................................. 67

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3.2.1 Psychopannychia (1534) ................................................... 67 3.2.2 Épître à tous amateurs de Iésus Christ (1535) .................. 69 3.2.3 Christinae religionis institutio (1536) ............................... 70 3.2.4 Instruction et confession de foy (1537) ............................ 74 3.2.5 Institutio christianae religionis (1539) .............................. 75 3.2.6 Commentarii in Epistolam ad Romanos (1540)................ 76 3.2.7 Le Catéchisme de l‟église de Genève (1542) ................... 77 3.3 Building, Expanding, and Improving: 1543–1558 ......................... 78 3.3.1 Institutio christianae religionis (1543) .............................. 78 3.3.2 De servitute et liberatione humani arbitrii (1543)............. 78 3.3.3 Contre la secte commune des Anabaptistes (1544) .......... 80 3.3.4 Contre la secte des Libertins (1545) ................................. 82 3.3.5 Préface de la Somme de Melanchthon (1546) .................. 82 3.3.6 Commentarii in priorem Epistolam ad Corinthios (1546) .................................................. 83 3.3.7 Commentaire sur la second Epistre aux Corinthiens (1547) .............................................. 86 3.3.8 Commentarii in quatuor Pauli Epistolas (1548)................ 86 3.3.9 Calvinus Duci Somerseti (1548) ....................................... 87 3.3.10 Commentarii in Epistolam ad Hebraeos (1549).............. 88 3.3.11 Institutio totius christianae religionis (1550) .................. 89 3.3.12 Commentaire sur l‟Epistre Sainct Jacques (1550) .......... 90 3.3.13 Commentarii in Epistolas Canonicas (1551) .................. 91 3.3.14 In primum Mosis librum Commentarius (1554) ............. 92 3.3.15 Commentarius in Acta Apostolorum (1554)................... 96 3.3.16 Sermons sur le livre de Job (1554–55) ........................... 97 3.3.17 Calvin à l‟église française d‟Anvers (1556) ................... 99 3.3.18 In librum Psalmorum Commentarius (1557) ................ 100 3.3.19 Sermons sur la première Epître aux Corinthiens (1558) ............................................ 100 3.4 Finishing Touches: 1559–1564 ..................................................... 103 3.4.1 Institutio christianae religionis (1559) ............................ 103 3.4.2 Sermons sur la Genèse (1559) ........................................ 106 3.4.3 Formulaire de confession de foy (1559) ......................... 112 3.4.4 De vera participatione (1561) ......................................... 113 3.4.5 Testament de Calvin (1564) ............................................ 115 3.5 Thematic Overview ....................................................................... 115 3.5.1 The imago Dei at creation ............................................... 115 3.5.2 The imago Dei after the fall ............................................ 121 3.5.3 The imago Dei restored in Christ .................................... 123 3.6 A Comparison of Calvin and his Theological Forefathers ........... 124

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3.7 Conclusions ................................................................................... 127 4. Humanitas in studia humanitatis .......................................................... 131 4.1 Calvin‟s Contact with Renaissance Humanism ............................ 131 4.1.1 Instructors with Humanist Inclinations ........................... 131 4.1.2 The Seneca Commentary (1532)..................................... 132 4.1.3 The Abiding Influence of Humanism ............................. 134 4.2 Is Calvin a Humanist? ................................................................... 135 4.3 Pico della Mirandola ..................................................................... 138 4.3.1 Oration on the Dignity of Man (1486) ............................ 139 4.3.2 Heptaplus (1489) ............................................................. 141 4.3.3 Pico‟s View of Humanitas and Imago Dei ..................... 144 4.3.4 Pico and Calvin Compared ............................................. 145 4.4 Desiderius Erasmus ....................................................................... 147 4.4.1 Enchiridion (1503) .......................................................... 147 4.4.2 Paraphrase on Acts (1524) .............................................. 150 4.4.3 Colloquy: “The New Mother” (1526) ............................. 151 4.4.4 Erasmus‟ View of Humanitas and Imago Dei ................ 152 4.4.5 Erasmus and Calvin Compared ....................................... 153 4.5 Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples ............................................................. 154 4.5.1 Paraphrases (1492) .......................................................... 157 4.5.2 Opera Cusanus (1514) ..................................................... 158 4.5.3 Commentary on the Pauline Epistles (1512) .................. 160 4.5.4 Lefèvre‟s View of Humanitas and Imago Dei ................ 161 4.5.5 Lefèvre and Calvin Compared ........................................ 162 4.6 Conclusions ................................................................................... 164 5. Calvin‟s Colleagues on the Imago Dei ................................................. 167 5.1 Philip Melanchthon ....................................................................... 168 5.1.1 Personal Relationship ...................................................... 168 5.1.2 Of Letters and Treatises .................................................. 171 5.1.3 Melanchthon on the Human Will .................................... 173 5.1.4 Melanchthon and Calvin on the Human Will ................. 179 5.1.5 De imagine Dei in homine (1553)................................... 182 5.1.6 Melanchthon and Calvin on the Image of God ............... 186 5.2 Heinrich Bullinger......................................................................... 189 5.2.1 Personal Relationship ...................................................... 189 5.2.2 Bullinger on Human Nature and Imago Dei ................... 192 5.2.3 Comparison of Bullinger and Calvin .............................. 201

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5.3 Conclusions ................................................................................... 205 6. Calvin‟s Opponents on the Imago Dei .................................................. 208 6.1 Andreas Osiander .......................................................................... 208 6.1.1 De imagine Dei, quid sit (1550) ...................................... 212 6.1.2 Calvin‟s Refutation of Osiander ..................................... 224 6.1.3 Summary ......................................................................... 234 6.2 Michael Servetus ........................................................................... 236 6.2.1 Christianismi restitutio (1553) ........................................ 239 6.2.2 Calvin‟s Refutation of Servetus ...................................... 246 6.2.3 Summary ......................................................................... 249 6.3 Conclusions ................................................................................... 250 7. Conclusions ........................................................................................... 252 7.1 Calvin‟s definition of the imago Dei ............................................ 253 7.2 Is Calvin‟s teaching about human nature coherent? ..................... 255 7.3 Calvin‟s view of the body and Greek philosophy......................... 258 7.4 Is Calvin another Zeno? ................................................................ 260 7.5 Calvin‟s understanding of women and the imago Dei .................. 263 7.6 Did Calvin reform the doctrine of the imago Dei? ....................... 266 Abbreviations ............................................................................................ 271 Bibliography .............................................................................................. 273 Index .......................................................................................................... 283

Preface

During the research and writing of this doctoral dissertation numerous people have assisted me in various ways. In the first place, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to my promoter, Dr. Herman J. Selderhuis, professor at the Theological University of Apeldoorn. From my initial contact with him, right up until the finishing details of the project, his enthusiasm and drive to get things done was a constant source of encouragement. The second reader, Dr. A.N.S. Lane, professor at the London School of Theology, perused the entire manuscript with his sharp eye for incorrect or unsubstantiated details. This book has benefited greatly from his comments, and I thank him for his work. Second, throughout the time that this dissertation was being prepared, I served as pastor of the Maranatha Canadian Reformed Church at Surrey. It has always been a pleasure to serve this congregation. From the start they supported the idea of this research, also providing me with a study leave in order to focus on the doctoral work. To all our brothers and sisters in the Lord there: thank you for sharing your pastor with this project, and may the Lord bless you in every way. The study leave in the summer of 2008 was spent at the Henry H. Meeter Center for Calvin Studies in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Financial support during this time was supplemented with the Emo F.J. Van Halsema Fellowship. The staff at the Meeter Center, along with the Van Halsema family, provided a most profitable opportunity to read, research and write, with all the resources a student of Calvin could possibly desire close at hand. Our time in Grand Rapids was not only advantageous, but it was thoroughly enjoyable as well. Third, it is one thing to research and write, it is quite another to weed out all the typographical errors, stylistic faux pas and translational inaccuracies that spring up in the well-trodden soil of a dissertation. Various individuals have assisted me with this toilsome task. Mrs. Kristen Alkema edited the entire manuscript, making helpful suggestions concerning both style and syntax. Dr. R. Faber steered me in the right direction when my translation of some Latin passages was veering off in a wrong direction. Mrs. Teresa Boisvert added refinement where my translation of French passages was still a little rough around the edges. When it came time to format the manuscript for publication, Tina Grummel, the editor for Religion and Theology at Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, patiently answered my many questions and provided much needed guidance. Finally, Dr. J. Vanderstoep, an elder in the Maranatha church, gave the book one final read to catch any remaining

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Preface

mistakes. To all of these people I offer my gratitude. If the reader still finds a typographical or translational thistle here or there, please be assured that the fault lies with me, not them. Fourth, at various points in this preface I have used the first person plural pronoun, our, rather than the first person singular. I did this to indicate that the author of this dissertation was surrounded by his family every step along the way. I wish to acknowledge my parents who have been a steady support through all my years of formal education – from primary right through to post-graduate. Also, our children‟s cheerful smiles and hearty laughter did much to keep this Dad going, even though he had to devote many hours to “the book” instead of playing ball. Now it‟s time to play ball a bit more. In and through it all, though, a very special place of honour is reserved for my wife, Janet. Since we were married in 1996, she has faithfully supported, encouraged and assisted me. If her husband was not busy with pastoral duties, he was often digging into Calvin sources or writing some research paper or dissertation chapter. Still, she kept our household on track and in tune. To my beloved, who is “worth far more than rubies” (Prov 31:10), I express my most sincere appreciation and gratitude. It is to her that this book is dedicated. The final and fullest word of thankfulness, though, is given to our heavenly Father, for without his refreshing grace and providential guidance none of this would have been possible. We are, after all, his children.

1. Introduction

In June of 1535 a new translation of the Bible was published in Neuchâtel. Pierre Robert Olivétan translated the Scriptures from the original Hebrew and Greek into French.1 His cousin, John Calvin, also contributed some time toward this historic project. He wrote two prefaces for the new translation: a general foreword in Latin and a special preface to the New Testament in French.2 The latter was entitled A tous amateurs de Iésus Christ, et de son Évangile. It begins with the following statements: God, the most perfect creator and most excellent maker of all things – even above and beyond his other creatures in which he had already shown himself to be more than admirable – had made man as a masterpiece in which one could view a unique excellence. He had formed him in his image and likeness, so much so that the brilliance of his glory shone clearly in him.3

Remarkably, at this early point in Calvin‟s development as a theologian, even before the first edition of his Institutes (1536), he depicts the creation of human beings in the image of God as a masterpiece of divine majesty. This same doctrine of the imago Dei returns in the final, official document that Calvin bequeathed to future generations, namely, his last will and testament. In April of 1564 the reformer of Geneva was in frail and failing health. Pierre Chenelat, a notary public, therefore recorded Calvin‟s testament as he dictated. Before addressing more practical matters such as the distribution of his earthly possessions, Calvin offered gratitude to God and anticipated eternal glory with these words: […] embracing the grace which he has given me in our Lord Jesus Christ, and accepting the merits of his death and passion, in order that by this means all my sins may be buried; and praying him so to wash and cleanse me by the blood of this great Re-

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LA BIBLE Qui est toute la Saincte scripture (Neuchâtel: Pierre de Vingle, 1535). The Latin preface, which promotes the availability of Scripture in the vernacular, is entitled Ioannes Calvinus caesaribus, regibus, principibus, gentibusque omnibus Christi imperio subditis salutem. It can be found in CO 9:787–90. The French preface can be found in John Calvin, “Épître à tous amateurs de Jésus-Christ,” in La vraie piété: Divers traités de Jean Calvin et Confession de foi de Guillaume Farel, ed. Irena Backus and Claire Chimelli (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1986). The authorship of this preface has been addressed recently in Frans Pieter van Stam, “Der Autor des Vorworts zur Olivétan-Bibel A tous amateurs aus dem Jahr 1535,” Nederlands archief voor kerkgeschiedenis 84 (2004). This matter is discussed further in Chapter 3. 3 Calvin, Épître, 25; translation mine. 2

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deemer, which has been shed for us poor sinners, that I may appear before his face, bearing as it were his image.4

The dying reformer‟s reference to bearing the image of Christ is an affirmation of the importance which the image of God held within his own personal convictions. The imago Dei, corrupted by sin but restored by the Great Redeemer, was not merely a doctrine that he enjoyed discussing from time to time. For John Calvin, it was nothing less than the culmination and consummation of the faith in which he desired to both live and die.5

1.1 Calvin‟s view of human nature: notoriously pessimistic? When the two quotations mentioned above are juxtaposed to each other, two key issues come into focus. In the first place, Calvin has a high view of human beings, at least insofar as they were originally made by the most perfect Creator. Not only is man a “masterpiece” of God‟s creative skill, but he is also distinguished from all other creatures by a most “unique excellence.”6 To be sure, concerning the situation after the fall into sin, Calvin concurs with the diction of Bildad in the book of Job by describing human beings as nothing more than “maggots and rottenness.”7 However, such a deprecating description of humanity is only one aspect of the anthropology found in Calvin‟s writings. His point of departure – and this ought to be emphasized – is not human beings as maggots, but human beings as masterpieces. In the second place, the unique excellence of humanity is linked to the all-surpassing excellence of the Creator himself. Furthermore, the doctrine of the imago Dei is the tie that binds the two together. As Calvin explains in his preface to the New Testament in Olivétan‟s Bible, it is because man was made in the image and likeness of God that the radiance of God‟s glory shines so clearly in him.8 In other words, in the status integretatis there is a direct, not an inverse, relationship between the two excellences. Human excellence does not need to diminish so that divine glory might increase. On the contrary, due to the link established through the imago Dei, the incomparable loftiness of God‟s excellence is the very thing

4 CO 20:299; John Calvin, Letters of John Calvin, ed. Jules Bonnet (Edinburgh: Burt Franklin, 1858; reprint, Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2007), 4:366. 5 CO 20:299; Calvin, Letters, 4:366. 6 Calvin, Épître, 25; translation mine. 7 This sermon was on Job 24:1–6. Fr. vermine et pourriture. CO 34:416; John Calvin, Sermons on Job, trans. Arthur Golding (London: George Bishop, 1574; reprint, Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1993), 443. 8 Calvin, Épître, 25; Fr. car.

Calvin‟s view of human nature: notoriously pessimistic?

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which elevates human excellence to a level which soars above the rest of creation. In spite of the aforementioned acclamation of human dignity from Calvin‟s own hand, many interpreters of his writings have stressed his predominantly negative view of humanity. This kind of assessment already began while Calvin was still alive. Albert Pighius (ca. 1490–1542), one of Calvin‟s Roman Catholic opponents, asserted that the reformer did not reserve room for any sort of noble passion within the human spirit: “neither love nor desire nor exertion for justice.”9 Along similar lines, but centuries later, Dewey J. Hoitenga Jr, also laments the manner in which Calvin virtually eradicates the human will within the fallen soul. He writes: On Calvin‟s view, the fall not only corrupts the will, but nearly destroys it. And the result? The result is that Calvin retains in the fallen state so little of the will as it was created that he cannot explain adequately the moral character of human action in that state, when it still makes choices between good and evil.10

Even more ominous than Hoitenga‟s evaluation is the appraisal of Margaret R. Miles who contends that Calvin‟s stress on God‟s comprehensive sovereignty “effectively blocks every impulse to social or political reform.” 11 Moreover, she expounds on her conviction with even more fervent phraseology when she adds: Just as a person busily endeavoured to construct a new ground of inner activity on which to take his stand on the very abyss on which he finds himself when the total governance of the external world is recognized, Calvin effectively whisks away this pitiful piece of threadbare carpet on which the person had been balancing so that there is nothing, nothing to do, nothing to own, nothing to be, but all suddenly – if the legerdemain works – appears in its true form as the glory of God.12

If this assessment is correct, then Calvin the Genevan has humbled human beings even more radically than Bildad the Shuhite did. According to Miles, this reformer has not merely reduced man to a maggot wriggling about in the rottenness, but has pushed him over the precipice so that he falls headlong into an abyss of existential nothingness. With opinions such as these swirling about in the sea of literary Calviniana, no one should be too sur-

9 Lat. neque amorem, desyderium, aut stadium iustitiae. For more information on the content and context of Pighius‟ statement see G. Melles, Albertus Pighius en zijn strijd met Calvijn over het liberum arbitrium (Kampen: J.H. Kok, 1973), 23–4. 10 Dewey J. Hoitenga, Jr., John Calvin and the Will: A Critique and Corrective (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1997), 69–70. 11 Margaret Ruth Miles, “Theology, Anthropology, and the Human Body in Calvin‟s Institutes of the Christian Religion,” HTR 74 (1981): 305. 12 Miles, “Theology, Anthropology, and the Human Body,” 305.

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prised when I. John Hesselink observes that “Calvin is famous for his pessimistic view of human nature and its possibilities.”13

1.2 Lack of attention to Calvin‟s anthropology What explanation might be offered for the difference between Calvin, who commends human beings as masterpieces of excellence, and some of his interpreters, who maintain that he relegates humanity to the void of vanity? To begin with, it should be pointed out that Hoitenga and Miles, as well as Pighius before them, are concentrating on Calvin‟s view of humanity post lapsum. By contrast, in his preface to Olivétan‟s New Testament, the young Calvin is focusing on human beings in their original created state. These different foci certainly lead to disparate assessments. Yet there is something more fundamental at stake here. There is a lack of scholarly attention to Calvin‟s anthropology, in general, and to his understanding of the imago Dei, in particular. In 1988 Mary Potter Engel identified this deficiency when she wrote: “Calvin‟s anthropology has been one of the doctrines most neglected by scholars. Aside from T.F. Torrance‟s Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, no full-length study of Calvin‟s doctrine of humankind has been published.”14 This lacuna motivated her to pen her own dissertation entitled John Calvin‟s Perspectival Anthropology.15 In the meantime, two more full-length studies have appeared which occupy themselves with Calvin‟s view of human beings and his understanding of the imago Dei. The first, God, mens, medemens: Humanitas in de theologie van Calvijn, is a book published in the Dutch language by J. van Eck.16 Some years later another study appeared. A Taiwanese scholar, Shu-Ying Shih, wrote his dissertation in English under the title, The Development of Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei in the Institutes of the Christian

13 I. John Hesselink, Calvin‟s First Catechism: A Commentary, Featuring Ford Lewis Battles‟s Translation of the 1538 Catechism (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997), 61. Also see Alasdair Heron, “Homo Peccator and the Imago Dei According to John Calvin,” in Incarnational Ministry: The Presence of Christ in Church, Society, and Family. Essays in Honor of Ray S. Anderson, ed. Christian D. Kettler and Todd Speidell (Colorado Springs: Helmers & Howard, 1990), 32, who writes that there is “a widely accepted picture of Calvin as the very epitome of that type of theology that seeks to glorify God by debasing humanity.” 14 Mary Potter Engel, John Calvin‟s Perspectival Anthropology (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988), ix. 15 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology. 16 J. van Eck, God, mens, medemens: Humanitas in de theologie van Calvijn (Franeker: Van Wijnen, 1992).

Lack of attention to Calvin‟s anthropology

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Religion from 1536 to 1559.17 In addition, a number of significant articles on the image of God in Calvin have come into print.18 In short, the present situation is not as bleak as it was some twenty years ago when Mary Potter Engel highlighted the lack of attention given to Calvin‟s anthropology. This increased interest in Calvin‟s teaching about human nature has resulted in much discussion about perspectives and trajectories. For her part, Potter Engel proposes that the key to understanding Calvin‟s anthropology is to approach it from a perspectival point of view. She lays out her thesis as follows: My aim in the remainder of this study is to demonstrate that a basic distinction between the absolute perspective of God and the relative perspective of human kind, as it appears in its variation in the doctrines of creation and redemption, permeates Calvin‟s anthropology; and, that understanding the functioning of this dynamic perspectival structure aids in the interpretation of Calvin‟s doctrine of humankind.19

Not entirely dissimilar to Potter Engel‟s perspectival approach is Shih‟s suggestion that Calvin‟s doctrine of the image of God can be comprehended best if the reader appreciates the two dimensions in the reformer‟s theology: the horizontal or temporal orientation and the vertical or eschatological orientation.20 In a similar fashion, van Eck also speaks of two lines in Cal17 Shu-Ying Shih, The Development of Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei in the Institutes of the Christian Religion from 1536 to 1559 (Heidelberg: Ruprecht Karls University, 2004). 18 Concerning Calvin‟s view of the image of God, the following is a list of some of the major journal articles, or books containing articles or chapters, published during or after 1998: Mark A. Duntley, Jr., “John Calvin‟s Theology and Equality: The Imago Dei and God‟s Order,” in The Concept of Equality in Social Justice: A Philosophical, Historical and Theological Analysis From a Presbyterian Perspective (Berkeley: Graduate Theological Union, 1988); John Lee Thompson, “Creata ad Imaginem Dei, licet secundo gradu: woman as the image of God according to John Calvin,” HTR 81 (1988); J. Faber, “Imago Dei in Calvin: Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man As the Image of God by Virtue of Creation,” in Essays in Reformed Doctrine, ed. Hans Boersema and Bill Wielenga (Neerlandia: Inheritance Publications, 1990); Gabriel-Ph. Widmer, “La „Dramatique‟ de l‟image de Dieu chez Calvin,” in Humain à l‟image de Dieu, ed. Pierre Buhler (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1989); Heron, “Homo Peccator”; Randall C. Zachman, “Jesus Christ As the Image of God in Calvin‟s Theology,” Calvin Theological Journal 25 (1990); E. Jane Dempsey Douglass, “The Image of God in Women As Seen by Luther and Calvin,” in Image of God and Gender Models, ed. Kari Elisabeth Børresen (Oslo: Solum Forlag, 1991); Susan E. Schreiner, The Theater of His Glory: Nature and the Natural Order in the Thought of John Calvin (Durham: Labyrinth Press, 1991); Dino Bellucci, “L‟homme, Image de Dieu: Intellect agent et immortalité dans le „Liber de Anima‟ de Philippe Mélanchthon,” Zwingliana 19 (1992); Luke Anderson, “The Imago Dei Theme in John Calvin and Bernard of Clairvaux,” in Calvinus Sacra Scripturae Professor. Calvin As Confessor of Holy Scripture, ed. Wilhelm Neuser (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994); Léopold Schümmer, “L‟Homme, Image de Dieu: Le corps, temple du Saint-Esprit dans la synthèse biblique de Calvin,” La Revue Réformée 47, no. 191 (1996); Willem Balke, “Imago Dei. Calvijn over de mens,” in Bijna goddelijk gemaakt. Gedachten over de menselijke gerichtheid op God, ed. Nico den Bok and Arjan Plaisier (Zoetermeer: Boekencentrum, 2005). 19 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 3. 20 Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 10–1, 13.

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Introduction

vin‟s treatment of humanitas, although his double trajectory is substantially different than those found in Potter Engel and Shih. Van Eck maintains that the first line, the humanist trajectory, finds its starting point in Calvin‟s commentary on Seneca‟s De Clementia (1532), while the second line, the reformatory trajectory, begins in the first edition of his Institutes (1536).21 By the end of van Eck‟s study these two lines have been transformed into three circles: the first and innermost circle is the kernel of the Christian faith summarized, for example, in the Apostles‟ Creed; the second circle contains instruction on the righteous way of living in love toward God and the neighbour; the third and outermost circle focuses on humanitas per se and what people generally think about human nature.22 According to van Eck, Calvin wants to emphasize that the innermost circles of faith must shine their special light into the outer circles of general knowledge. All things considered, there is something less than satisfactory about these recent interpretations of Calvin‟s teaching on human nature and the imago Dei. Whether the hermeneutical key is found in perspectives, dimensions, or concentric circles, the central question remains: is that particular hermeneutical key also found in Calvin‟s own writings? Potter Engel forthrightly admits that she “found no evidence that Calvin either consciously conceived of this [perspectival] structure or deliberately structured his anthropology in accordance with it.”23 Along similar lines, van Eck proposes that Calvin‟s thoughts on humanitas deserve a more systematic place in his theology than the reformer himself gave them.24 Finally, Shih‟s “double parallel”25 of temporal and eschatological dimensions strikes a more resonant chord with the already-not-yet motif of realized eschatology26 in the twentieth century than it does with Calvin‟s own writing about the imago Dei in the sixteenth century. In sum, each of these three approaches latches onto a hermeneutical key which originates from somewhere outside of Calvin‟s own writings. While these scholars all set forth some worthwhile observations, it stands to reason that it is preferable to find the hermeneutical key to Calvin‟s anthropology somewhere within his own corpus. Consequently, one of the primary goals in this present study will be to understand Calvin‟s teaching about the image of God using the hermeneutical keys, analogies, and organizational principles that he himself used.

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van Eck, God, mens, medemens, 28. van Eck, God, mens, medemens, 243–44. 23 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 4. 24 van Eck, God, mens, medemens, 243. 25 Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 13. 26 A well-known proponent of realized eschatology is C.H. Dodd, The Coming of Christ, Revised ed. (London: Nisbet, 1961). 22

Pertinent and persistent issues

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1.3 Pertinent and persistent issues When Calvin‟s views on human nature and the imago Dei are investigated, several topics repeatedly come up for discussion and debate. What follows is a brief survey of these issues, including a small, selective sample of the discussions that can be found in the literature on these topics. In due course, after Calvin‟s writings have been examined and set within their historical context (Chapters 2–6), these questions will return, accompanied by answers, at the conclusion of this study (Chapter 7).

1.3.1 Difficulties in defining the imago Dei As Mary Potter Engel has pointed out, for many years Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man by T.F. Torrance was the only full-length study on the reformer‟s ideas concerning human nature. Almost half of that book is devoted to Calvin‟s teaching on the imago Dei. According to Torrance, this teaching is designed to evoke gratitude in the believer.27 Indeed, the expression of gratitude is so essential that “in Calvin‟s view the key to the whole doctrine of man in creation and destiny is the idea of thankful response to the unbounded grace of God.”28 Torrance explains this further when he demarcates the difference between human beings and the rest of creation. All creatures have the capacity to reflect God‟s glory, but only humans are able to knowingly and gratefully respond to God‟s glorious grace.29 Consequently, “for a man to be ungrateful in a refusal to acknowledge the grace of God is to deface the image of God in him, to un-man himself, and to become a beast or a creature without light in his understanding.”30 This light, with which Adam and Eve were created, comes from the Word. From Torrance‟s point of view, the involvement of the Word is another key element in how Calvin understands the imago Dei. He writes, “In a real sense the image of God in man is the communicated Word in which God‟s glory shines forth.”31 This Word is Christ, the eternal Son of God. This does not mean that the imago Dei in man is literally Christ himself. However, it does mean that “man‟s imago Dei is generated only over against that prime image of God [i.e., Christ] in a knowledgeable relation of faith and obedience.”32 In fact, human beings are so dependent on the Word T.F. Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man (London: Lutterworth Press, 1949), 13. Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 25. 29 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 29–30. 30 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 34. 31 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 58. 32 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 58. 27 28

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Introduction

that without it they would instantly slip into the abyss of non-existence. Torrance sketches this stark reality as follows: Calvin also thinks of man as being consumed and renewed every instant of his being in the sense that he is continually being called out of non-being into being and life by the Word and Will of the Creator who is the Lord of life and death […]. All this means that from the point of view of his theology Calvin has nothing to do with second causes. All nature, and the gifts and endowments of man, depend for their being upon the immediate agency of God through His Spirit and His Word. 33

Again, as a result, those who turn a deaf ear to the Word effectually efface the image of God in themselves.34 In order to do justice to the height, width, and depth of Calvin‟s teaching on the imago Dei, Torrance maintains that two important distinctions must be borne in mind. The first distinction is between the wider and narrower sense of the imago Dei. In the wider sense, “imago Dei refers to the workmanship of God in the universe, and that includes man himself as the preeminent specimen of God‟s handiwork.”35 Thus, with this wider sense in view, all creation reflects the image of God. However, there is also a narrower sense of the imago Dei which is “the reflection seen by the eye of man who […] by means of the Word makes the mute creation speak of the glory of God.”36 This narrower sense of the imago Dei leads directly into Torrance‟s second distinction between the objective and subjective imago Dei. The objective imago Dei is God‟s act of grace by which he bestowed supernatural gifts upon the human beings he created, whereas the subjective imago Dei is their response to God‟s grace.37 Obviously, this subjective imago Dei returns full-circle to Torrance‟s initial point that the imago Dei is best defined in terms of a thankful response to the unbounded grace of God. Questions may be raised about Torrance‟s interpretation of Calvin‟s teaching about the image of God. For instance, is it true that from the perspective of his theology Calvin “has nothing to do with second causes”? 38 Moreover, does the idea that human beings are being held back from the brink of non-being by the immediate agency of God sound more like a

Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 62–3. Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 57. 35 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 38. 36 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 41–2. 37 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 69–60. 38 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 63. For example, in his refutation of the French Libertines Calvin speaks of God‟s providence in a manner which certainly includes secondary causes. CO 7:186–192; John Calvin, Treatises Against the Anabaptists and Against the Libertines, trans. Benjamin Wirt Farley (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1982), 242–9. 33 34

Pertinent and persistent issues

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twentieth century Karl Barth or a sixteenth century John Calvin?39 However, perhaps the most problematic part of Torrance‟s treatment is that, on the one hand, the imago Dei is a grateful response to God‟s grace, but on the other hand, it is also God‟s way of beholding his own glory in human beings.40 This definitional dichotomy does not enhance, but rather obscures, the precise meaning of the term imago Dei in Calvin‟s writings. Although Shu-Ying Shih appreciates the contribution which Thomas F. Torrance has made,41 he suggests that the latter‟s distinctions – wider sense versus narrower sense and objective versus subjective imago Dei – might be replaced by his own schema of temporal versus eschatological dimensions. For Shih the temporal, or horizontal, dimension “involves a relation among created beings.”42 Within that relationship Calvin clearly teaches that God has given human beings an excellence which far surpasses any other creature. This temporal dimension of the imago Dei is retained by everyone even after the fall into sin.43 However, in Shih‟s estimation, as Calvin steps forward from one edition of his Institutes to the next, he slowly adds more emphasis on the eschatological dimension44 which ultimately finds its terminus in the idea of reciprocal participation. He describes it in the following manner: At this point we see that the reciprocal participation between God and human beings is initiated and cultivated by God. Human beings participate in God on the basis of God‟s active provision and love. In this sense, human participation in God can be viewed as passive and determined […]. In Calvin‟s theology, Jesus Christ, in addition to his role and function as mediator, was the complete human being who participated

39 See Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, ed. G.W. Bromiley and T.F. Torrance, trans. G.W. Bromiley (New York: Harper, 1962), III/2:142. “Thus the human creature, and every creature as seen in man, is the being which is so utterly and inescapably reached and pierced by God because his inmost essence exists only through God, because in that in which he is himself he derives from God, because he can boast of his own most proper being only as he makes his boast in God. This is man as seen in the light of the fact that the human sphere is the sphere in which God is immediately and directly present and acts and rules and makes history in the person of the man Jesus, and in which His kingdom comes in this One.” Also see Barth, Church Dogmatics, III/2:143: “There is a whole monstrous kingdom, a deep chaos of nothingness, i.e., of what the Creator has excluded and separated from the sphere of being, of what He did not will and therefore did not create, to which He gave no being, which can exist only as non-being, and which thus forms the menacing frontier of what is according to the will of God. No man, no creature has within himself the power to overcome this threat […]. And so the will of God for His creation is to preserve it from the nothingness to which it would inevitably succumb apart from the divine initiative, to save the creature from the threat which it cannot overcome of itself.” 40 Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 74. 41 Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 179–82. 42 Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 10. 43 Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 10. 44 Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 28.

22

Introduction

in God and fully obeyed him. In other words, to participate in God is to become the image of God.45

Again, this analysis of Calvin‟s basic understanding of the imago Dei raises questions. Does Calvin, in fact, teach that Christ restores the image of God in two distinct ways: primarily as a mediator and secondarily as a complete human being?46 In addition, although Calvin speaks of participation in Christ, does the concept of reciprocal participation fit well within the natural framework of his thought or is it some sort of Fremdkörper?47 Both Torrance and Shih make the worthwhile point that there is something inherently relational about the imago Dei in Calvin. However, they also both fail to define clearly the precise nature of that relationship. Distinctions such as subjective versus objective, or concepts such as reciprocal participation, are not found explicitly in Calvin‟s writings. Therefore, they do not provide a particularly solid foundation upon which to build an understanding of his view of the imago Dei.

1.3.2 Coherence? Every author strives for coherence, yet no author attains it perfectly in his manuscript, let alone in a large corpus of writings. In this regard John Calvin is no exception. Hence it is advisable to ask whether modern readers sometimes expect too much of the theologians of yesteryear. Richard Stauffer believes that, in the case of Calvin, some scholars have indeed set their expectations too high. As he sees it, the imago Dei is one of the most difficult problems in the reformer‟s theology.48 He finds a number of contradictions in the way that Calvin treats this topic. For example, in the Institutes Calvin describes the body as the “prison house” of the soul, while in his sermons he speaks of that same body as the “host” of the soul.49 Also, on the one hand, in the context of the imago Dei Calvin stresses that God the Father ordained all of creation to serve humankind. Yet, on the other hand, even though the imago Dei is ruined by the fall into sin, the other creatures Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 216–7, 279–80. For example, in his polemics against Osiander, Calvin warns against sophistry which detracts attention from the cross of Christ as the only source of salvation; CO 2.545; OS 4:195–197; John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), 3.11.12. 47 Also in his polemics against Osiander, Calvin warns against mingling heaven and earth. See CO 2:136–137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. Whether or not it is intended as such, speaking of reciprocal participation leans in the direction of some sort of mingling. 48 Richard Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence dans la prédication de Calvin (Berne: Peter Lang, 1978), 201. 49 Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence, 206. 45 46

Pertinent and persistent issues

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are still under the dominion of human beings. In Stauffer‟s opinion Calvin never clearly explains how this enduring dominion fits together with the ruined imago Dei.50 Moreover, Stauffer opposes any attempt to impose some sort of “unilateral systematization”51 upon Calvin‟s thought. In short, he maintains that it is more credible to simply let the inconsistencies stand where they may occur while, at the same time, respecting Calvin as an intelligent, but not infallible, theologian.52 From her perspective, Mary Potter Engel recognizes the same issue that Stauffer pinpointed. She, too, finds that Calvin‟s anthropology is not necessarily a homogeneous whole. She depicts the situation as follows: There appears a portrait of humankind filled with a disturbing number of contrasting colors, conflicting angles, and asymmetrical lines. The result appears to be a tortuous mass of smaller images vying to be regarded as the focal point. Here one sees a masterpiece shining with the beauty of the eternal father, there a snail crawling before the eternal creator; here a royal heir of Jesus Christ, there a worm crawling before the eternal judge; here a Cato, there a Cassius.53

Furthermore, she does not find any indication in Calvin‟s own writings as to how the competing images of this “tortuous mass” might cohere with each other.54 Still, she strives for further clarity through her perspectival approach. First, from the relative, human perspective, human beings appear to occupy a high position, particularly due to their superior reasoning powers as compared to the animals.55 Second, from the absolute perspective of God as judge, human beings must always be humbled. And third, from the absolute perspective of God in Jesus Christ, human beings are filled with grandeur.56 Employing this multi-perspectival approach, Potter Engel tries to navigate her way between the Scylla of imposing a “unilateral systemization” upon Calvin‟s thought, and the Charybdis of conceding that the reformer‟s anthropology is hopelessly incongruous. Whether or not this perspectival approach is the optimal solution remains to be seen in the rest of this study. From the outset, though, it might be asked whether sufficient attention has been paid to the timeline of Calvin‟s theological development, also concerning the imago Dei. In other words, is it possible that some of the inconsistencies can be explained by the fact that as Calvin lectured and preached from Scripture over the course

50

Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence, 212. Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence, 201. 52 Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence, 201. 53 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 22. 54 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 22. 55 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 4. 56 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 15. 51

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Introduction

of some three decades, he changed his mind, or at least refined his position, on various matters pertaining to the doctrine of human nature?

1.3.3 Influx of Greek philosophy? Readers of the final edition of Calvin‟s Institutes have long been perplexed as to why the reformer describes the body as the “prison house” of the soul.57 Upon first hearing, such a designation sounds unmistakably Platonic. Moreover, according to Roy Battenhouse, it is Platonic, and according to him that is not a bad thing either. In a seminal article written in 1948, Battenhouse sets out to challenge the generalization that Renaissance humanism is inherently unchristian because it rests on the premise of individual autonomy.58 On the contrary, he discovers a number of interesting parallels between Calvin and the Florentine Platonists such as Marsilio Ficino and Pico della Mirandola.59 Prominent among these parallels is the undeniable fact that Calvin speaks of the body as the house of the immortal soul even as Ficino and Pico portray the body as the earthly clothing worn by the heavenly spirit.60 All this leads Battenhouse to conclude that “Calvin‟s socalled Biblical theology is not quite so Biblical” as some of his disciples would like to think.61 In fact, he suggests that particularly in his treatment of the human body, the reformer is heavily dependent upon Platonic concepts. Expressing his own thesis, Battenhouse writes, “Calvin‟s doctrine of man may have a subterranean dependence on the very Renaissance optimism and rationalism which Calvin sought to reprove and chasten.”62 Charles Partee agrees with Battenhouse that Calvin is more indebted to philosophers in his view on human nature than he is in any other area of his thought.63 However, this indebtedness should not be overstated since there are as many differences as there are similarities in the respective writings of Calvin and Plato. For instance, whereas Calvin publicly proclaims the future resurrection of the body, Plato does not believe in any such thing. 64 57 For example, see Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.2; CO 2:135–136; OS 3:174–176. There he twice describes the body as a “prison house.” 58 Roy Wesley Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man in Calvin and in Renaissance Platonism,” Journal of the History of Ideas 9 (1948): 447–9. 59 Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 451–5. 60 Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 458–9. 61 Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 469. 62 Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 470. 63 Charles Partee, Calvin and Classical Philosophy (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1977), 51. See also Charles Partee, The Theology of John Calvin (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 84, where he maintains that Calvin was influenced by Plato‟s view of the immortal soul. 64 Partee, Calvin and Classical Philosophy, 56.

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Conversely, while the ancient Greek philosopher makes much of the soul as an intermediary between the world of ideas (forms) and the world of things (matter), Geneva‟s reformer does not adopt any such theory. Therefore, all things considered, Partee suggests that it is more accurate to categorize Calvin‟s use of Greek philosophy under the heading of “marginal notes.” 65 They may well be interesting, but they are nonetheless peripheral and not programmatic. Indeed, he sums up his position by stating, “Calvin looks at the subject of soul and body, immortality and resurrection through the „spectacles of Scripture.‟ The lens of Calvin‟s spectacles were certainly tinted by Platonism here, but the source of Calvin‟s view of soul and body is the Scripture.”66 Yet where Partee sees spectacles, Léopold Schümmer finds a synthesis, indeed, a “grandiose”67 and “Biblical”68 synthesis in which Calvin skillfully weaves together numerous scriptural passages in order to fashion his understanding of the body as the temple of the Holy Spirit and the dwelling place of the soul. As Schümmer surveys some of Calvin‟s commentaries, he comes to the conclusion that there is a strong resonance between the positive scriptural perspective on the human body and the manner in which Calvin speaks about the physical flesh.69 This emphasis on Calvin‟s exegetical works is a welcome balance to the tendency in some studies to focus too exclusively on the Institutes. By the same token, it is unfortunate that Schümmer does not endeavour to elucidate why Calvin sometimes speaks of the body as the prison house of the soul, while at other times he describes it as the temple of the Holy Spirit. Simply put, is there still an element of truth in Battenhouse‟s assertion that Calvin‟s biblical theology is not as biblical as some might think? More specifically, adapting a phrase from Quirinius Breen,70 is there a lingering precipitate of Platonism in Calvin‟s view of the body? The question remains open and any attempt to answer it must also address the broader issue of Calvin‟s relationship to Renaissance humanism.

65

Partee, Calvin and Classical Philosophy, 21. Partee, Calvin and Classical Philosophy, 65. 67 Schümmer, “L‟Homme, Image de Dieu,” 63. 68 Schümmer, “L‟Homme, Image de Dieu,” 81–2. 69 Schümmer, “L‟Homme, Image de Dieu,” 77–81. 70 Quirinus Breen, John Calvin: A Study in French Humanism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1931), 146. 66

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Introduction

1.3.4 Is Calvin another Zeno? Calvin‟s first publication was not about Scripture but Seneca.71 In 1532 Calvin published a commentary on this Stoic philosopher‟s essay, De Clementia. Even though the commentary itself was largely unsuccessful in its author‟s eyes,72 it seems to have cultivated a connection between Calvin and Stoicism that has refused to erode over time. For example, Barbara Pitkin draws attention to a letter that Philip Melanchthon wrote to Joachim Camerarius in 1552 about the controversy in Geneva over Jerome Bolsec‟s view of predestination.73 In that letter Melanchthon writes, “But see the madness of this age! The Geneva battles over Stoic necessity are such that a certain person who disagreed with Zeno was thrown into prison.”74 This mention of Zeno, the founding father of Stoicism, is taken by Pitkin as a reference to Calvin himself. In other words, in a circuitous manner, Melanchthon is accusing his colleague John Calvin of emphasizing God‟s sovereignty to such an extreme degree that he is, in effect, promoting the same sort of fatalism for which the Stoic philosophers were renowned. Pitkin goes on to argue that Melanchthon placed more value in the remnant of the imago Dei than Calvin did. By stressing the abiding significance of the imago Dei after the fall, Melanchthon aims to assure his readers that human beings are responsible people rather than passive pawns. As a result, despite their agreement on many matters, Pitkin concludes that “Calvin tends to stress the „comprehensive nature of God‟s rule‟ whereas Melanchthon focuses on the issue of human responsibility.”75 To be sure, Melanchthon was not the only, or the last, person to wonder if Calvin‟s emphasis on divine sovereignty ultimately leaves him standing in the camp of Stoic philosophers. Geneva‟s reformer has been described as a “fideistic fatalist”76 and his teaching has been likened to “the inexorable εἱμαεμένη (Fate) of Stoicism.”77 However, not all are agreed that Calvin succumbed to Stoicism. Torrance Kirby, for one, avers that Calvin actually “out-Stoicizes the Stoics” and simultaneously surpasses their philosophical

John Calvin, Calvin‟s Commentary on Seneca‟s De Clementia, ed. Ford Lewis Battles and André Malan Hugo (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1969). 72 CO 10b:19–20; Calvin, Letters, 1:31–2. 73 Barbara Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno: Calvin and the Development of Melanchthon‟s Anthropology,” The Journal of Religion 84, no. 3 (2004). 74 Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno,” 346. 75 Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno,” 363. 76 See Torrance Kirby, “Stoic And Epicurean? Calvin‟s Dialectical Account of Providence in the Institutes,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 5, no. 3 (2003): 322. 77 As quoted in Charles Partee, “Calvin and Determinism,” Christian Scholar‟s Review 5 (1975): 123. 71

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counterparts, the Epicureans, as well.78 He expounds on his thesis by explaining: Whereas the pagan theologians were driven to reject the governing providence in order to secure human freedom or, alternatively, to reject the freedom in order to affirm the providence, Calvin reaches out in both directions and encompasses the two earth-bound theologies within his own higher, mutually comprehensive standpoint.79

How does Calvin manage this seemingly impossible feat? He does so by highlighting a scriptural truth which eluded the pagan philosophers, namely, that the God who is so entirely sovereign is, at the same time, so lovingly paternal.80 It is precisely Calvin‟s passion for proclaiming God‟s fatherly care of creation, including human beings, which prevents him from falling into the rigidity of Stoic fatalism. Torrance Kirby certainly presents an intriguing hypothesis. However, what needs further investigation is the wider issue raised by Barbara Pitkin in her article: how did Calvin‟s teaching about the imago Dei, and more generally about human nature, compare to other reformers in the sixteenth century? It is one thing to compare Calvin with ancient philosophers such as Zeno or Seneca, but it is equally profitable to compare his views on the imago Dei with his colleagues (e.g., Melanchthon and Bullinger), or his opponents (e.g., Osiander and Servetus).

1.3.5 Imago Dei and gender equality Before writing her dissertation, John Calvin‟s Perspectival Anthropology, Mary Potter Engel wrote a journal article with the title, “Gender Equality and Gender Hierarchy in Calvin‟s Theology.”81 She argues that this reformer allowed only “a carefully limited reformation for women: a spiritual reformation that had little effect on social and political reality.”82 So far as gender equality is concerned, Potter Engel points out that Calvin unreservedly affirms that both men and women are created with the same dignity since both genders were made in the image of God. Yet as soon as this dignity is brought to bear in the daily realities of domestic, social, and political life, then Calvin‟s teaching is permeated with “the uncompromising

Kirby, “Stoic and Epicurean,” 318. Kirby, “Stoic and Epicurean,” 321. 80 Kirby, “Stoic and Epicurean,” 316. 81 Mary Potter, “Gender Equality and Gender Hierarchy in Calvin‟s Theology,” Journal of Women in Culture and Society 11 (1985–1986). 82 Potter, “Gender Equality and Hierarchy,” 725. 78 79

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Introduction

view that women are innately inferior to men.”83 Hence, according to Potter Engel, if one is looking for proponents of a complete reformation for women in the early modern era, it is better to turn to writers such as Christine de Pizan (1364–1429) or Marguerite d‟Angoulême, Queen of Navarre (1492– 1549). A more sympathetic assessment of Calvin‟s instruction concerning women is provided by Jane Dempsey Douglass. She acknowledges that Calvin assumes the subordination of women to men in the social order of daily life.84 However, she sees this as a positive development. She notes that whereas Calvin restricts female subordination to the realm of human governance, others in his era might be inclined to extend it to every conceivable sphere, whether social or spiritual, ecclesiastical or eternal.85 Another mark in Calvin‟s favour is his personal acquaintance with several Frenchspeaking ladies who had humanist training and who were active in raising the estate and esteem of women.86 The most notable of these women is, of course, the aforementioned Marguerite d‟Angoulême. At one point, Dempsey Douglass even suggests that Calvin was open to accepting greater equality for women in social and ecclesiastical realms, but he held back from actually promoting this out of fear that his position might be too radical for his own day and age.87 John L. Thompson takes issue with Dempsey Douglass‟ last suggestion, indicating that she has gone beyond what Calvin himself has stated.88 He offers the reminder that in his commentary on Genesis 2, Calvin explicitly states that women are created in the image of God, “albeit in a secondary degree.”89 Eager to discover what Calvin means by “in a secondary degree,” Thompson delves into the reformer‟s exegesis of 1 Corinthians 11 and concludes that Calvin‟s teaching on the imago Dei gives evidence of a distinction between “an internal image of God (the image as an „inner good of the soul‟) and an external image of God (the image as visibly reflected in human relations).”90 The internal imago Dei pertains to men and women alike; however, the external imago Dei belongs only to men.91 Even though Potter, “Gender Equality and Hierarchy,” 727. E. Jane Dempsey Douglass, “The Image of God in Humanity: A Comparison of Calvin‟s Teaching in 1536 and 1559,” in Papers From the 1986 International Calvin Symposium, McGill University, ed. E.J. Furcha (Montreal: McGill University, 1987), 194. 85 Dempsey Douglass, “The Image of God in Humanity,” 194. 86 Dempsey Douglass, “The Image of God in Humanity,” 195. 87 E. Jane Dempsey Douglass, Women, Freedom, and Calvin (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1985), 104, 120–1. 88 Thompson, “Creata ad Imaginem Dei,” 136. 89 Thompson, “Creata ad Imaginem Dei,” 125. 90 Thompson, “Creata ad Imaginem Dei,” 132. 91 Thompson, “Creata ad Imaginem Dei,” 133. 83 84

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Dempsey Douglass may feel that this distinction is “historically conditioned,”92 Thompson argues that this is not the kind of language that Calvin himself uses. Instead, the reformer explicitly states that women are created in God‟s image in a secondary degree, and consequently, this difference in degree is still part of the created order. It remains an “inviolable rule” so long as this present heavens and earth have not yet passed away.93 Surely, if there is one area of Calvin‟s teaching about the imago Dei where anachronisms must be avoided, it is here. Edifying discussions and acrimonious debates concerning gender equality have permeated almost every sphere of life in the modern era. Sixteenth-century France also had its own debate about the place of women, known as la querelle des femmes. However, it would be a historical error to assume that the latter debate was identical to the former. Furthermore, it remains to be seen whether, within the context of la querelle des femmes, Calvin was able to offer a better interpretation of 1 Corinthians 11 than his predecessors. In short, did he substantively reform the church‟s understanding of how the imago Dei is related to gender? Or did he merely maintain the status quo of centuries past?

1.3.6 Did Calvin reform the doctrine of humanitas? The previous five questions all culminate into one overarching concern which can be captured in a series of succinct queries. Did Calvin reform the church‟s teaching about human nature, including the imago Dei? If so, how? Did he bequeath to future generations a more purely scriptural confession of human dignity than the one that he had received from his own theological forebears? If so, was the inheritance he left behind substantial or inconsequential? Some scholars have already weighed in with answers to these questions. J. van Eck repeatedly refers to the two trajectories in Calvin: the more scriptural, reformatory line and the more philosophical, humanist line. Concerning the doctrine of humanity, he believes that Calvin began with a simpler, more biblically based understanding of the imago Dei, but over time he added more philosophical concepts until he attained a satisfactory combination of the two in the final edition of his Institutes.94 However, if van Eck‟s assessment of Calvin is correct, then Geneva‟s reformer did not accomplish much in the way of a true reformation of the doctrine of humanitas. A synthesis of inspired Scripture and ancient philos92

Dempsey Douglass, Women, Freedom, and Calvin, 82. Thompson, “Creata ad Imaginem Dei,” 135–6. 94 van Eck, God, mens, medemens, 115. 93

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Introduction

ophy is more characteristic of a medieval theologian like Aquinas than it is representative of the spirit of the Reformation. Recently, Willem Balke has offered a more positive evaluation of Calvin‟s reformatory efforts in the anthropological locus. After comparing Luther‟s pioneering work on the imago Dei with Calvin‟s further refinement of that doctrine, Balke concludes, “We find in Calvin‟s work a fundamental contribution to humanity, one which far exceeds that of the humanists, and that of his Roman Catholic opponents and that of later Calvinists.”95 In the course of this present study, it will hopefully become clear whether this glowing assessment can be endorsed or whether it needs to be refined.

1.4 A contextual approach John Calvin, like all human beings, lived and worked within a context. The more his context is acknowledged, the better the man and his writings will be understood. Therefore, the approach adopted in this study is purposefully contextual. In the first place, this means appreciating the historical context within which Calvin began, and continued, his work. Stretching out almost as far as the eye can see, there is a long line of theologians preceding Calvin who contemplated Scripture‟s teaching on the special dignity accorded to human beings created in God‟s image. Standing in that line are not only medieval scholars such as Thomas Aquinas, Bernard of Clairvaux and Anselm of Canterbury, but also church fathers such as Augustine of Hippo, Basil the Great and Irenaeus of Lyons. Calvin did not read every treatise of every theologian who came before him, but he absorbed as much as he could. He was truly a “student of the church fathers,”96 as well as being familiar with scholastic methodology and theology.97 This context of his theological forefathers will be surveyed in Chapter 2 of this study. Second, it is impossible to sever the theologian, as a person, from the theology which he espouses. It goes without saying that the young Calvin who started lecturing in Geneva in 1536 was not immutably identical to the older Calvin who died almost thirty years later in that same city. Along the way he matured, made new discoveries, and learned from his mistakes. Likewise, in his exegetical and theological writings, as well as in his preaching, he matured, made new discoveries, and learned from his mistakes. This gradual Balke, “Imago Dei,” 177. A.N.S. Lane, John Calvin: Student of the Church Fathers (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1999). 97 Richard A. Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin: Studies in the Foundation of a Theological Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 39–61. 95 96

A contextual approach

31

growth might be called his personal context. In Chapter 3 Calvin‟s writing on the nature of humanity, especially the imago Dei, will be analyzed in chronological sequence so that this personal context will come into focus as much as is possible. Third, as noted earlier in this introduction, the relationship of Renaissance humanism and the Reformation is an integral part of any effort to comprehend Calvin‟s teaching on the definition and dignity of the imago Dei. Even if Calvin was not explicitly quoting a Ficino or a Pico at every turn, Renaissance humanism was still a significant part of the Zeitgeist of the sixteenth century. This was Calvin‟s cultural context, and he also inhaled from that Renaissance atmosphere. Yet to what degree? In which manner? For if Calvin felt free to disagree with his beloved forefather Augustine,98 then could he not also critically winnow the spirit of his age, separating the chaff from the wheat, as he saw fit? These questions will be pursued in Chapter 4. In the fourth place, Calvin was keenly aware that God had assigned him a task within a much broader reformatory movement. Humanly speaking, he was not the initiator of that movement. That distinction belonged to Martin Luther. In addition, neither the city of Geneva nor the person of Calvin was an isolated island. Ecclesiastical events that happened in Zürich had ramifications for the church in Geneva. Books that flowed from the pen of Melanchthon could not be casually overlooked by Calvin. Even though the interactions among reformers, and reformation-minded cities, could become tense at times, the relationship was still there. Some of Calvin‟s collegial context will be explored in Chapter 5, comparing how different reformers treated the doctrine of the imago Dei. Finally, as surely as Calvin had reform-minded colleagues with whom he could consult, so surely he also had opponents against whom he had to take his stand. As silver is refined in the fire of a furnace, so theologians are purified in the heat of their polemics. Geneva‟s reformer was no stranger to the smelter. Whether it was opposition from papal-appointed provosts, like Albert Pighius, or itinerant radicals, like Michael Servetus, Calvin had to defend himself against many and varied accusations. These debates also concerned his opponents‟ teaching about the imago Dei. This polemical context will form the topic of investigation in Chapter 6. Once Calvin‟s teaching concerning the image of God is seen more clearly, illuminated by the various lamps of this contextual approach, the six pertinent and persistent issues raised in this introduction can be revisited in the conclusion. In particular, the first, concerning Calvin‟s definition of the imago Dei, and the last, concerning Calvin‟s effort to reform the doctrine of

98

CO 2:139; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4.

32

Introduction

humanitas, will receive due attention, since they are the matters of greatest consequence.

1.5 A homiletic point of departure This introduction began by considering a quotation from one of Calvin‟s earliest writings, as well as a passage from his last will and testament. Before forging ahead into the next chapter, one more citation ought to be highlighted. This time it comes from a sermon that Calvin preached to his congregation in St. Pierre on 9 September 1559. On that Saturday the fifty-yearold preacher had come to Genesis 1:26–28 in his lectio continua. In those verses the Creator makes a most extraordinary announcement, saying, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness.”99 As a mature exegete, theologian, and homiletician, Calvin sought to impress on his congregants what it meant for them that God had created their first parents, Adam and Eve, in his very own image and likeness. He proclaims: But when it is said here that “man must be created in the image of God and according to his likeness,” it is for the purpose of declaring that he must have such virtues and gifts, which will serve as signs and marks, to demonstrate that the human race is as the lineage of God, just as St. Paul proves with the saying from the pagan poet in 17th chapter of Acts: “we are his descendants.”100

In other words, when God created antelope and eagles he made creatures that would do his bidding, but when God created Adam and Eve he made children who would be his heirs. Imago Dei means filii Dei; creation in the image of God demonstrates that the human race is the lineage of God. Calvin‟s interpretation of Genesis 1:26 has profound implications for how human nature should be viewed. This is true not only for the original state of integrity, the status originalis, but it also has ramifications for how human nature should be understood and evaluated after the fall into sin, as well as in the gracious restoration by Christ and glorious consummation on the day of his return. In other words, in each anthropological state – creation, fall, redemption and glorification – the link between imago Dei and filii Dei becomes an important and integral part of Calvin‟s teaching. The trail leading up to, and the path proceeding from, this reformer‟s filial understanding of the imago Dei will now be explored in subsequent chapters. As we embark, we may carry along Calvin‟s words from the beginning of that memorable sermon on the ninth of September: 99

All Scripture quotes are from the NIV translation. John Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse Chapitres 1,1–11,4, ed. Max Engammare (NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2000), 57; translation mine. 100

A homiletic point of departure

33

Seeing then that God wanted us to feel a paternal care before the human race was created, we have good reason to commit ourselves to him, not doubting that he will provide for us until the end, so much so that we will not lack anything and that we also have reason to magnify his goodness.101

101

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 54; translation mine.

2. The Imago Dei in the Ancient and Medieval Church

Parents hand down more than material possessions to their posterity. Wittingly or unwittingly, they also bequeath a certain set of assumptions, aspirations, and perhaps even aversions. Conversely, as children embark on their grand intellectual journey, which is learning, they carry along cognitive baggage from their forebears: fundamental presuppositions, useful methodologies, and long-standing questions. In short, no new generation ever makes a pristinely clean start. By the same token, children need not merely, nor mechanically, repeat what their fathers have told them. Offspring will often strive to surpass the accomplishments of their ancestors. All of this also applies to theologians. As John Leith has rightly observed “theology is historical.”1 It is historical in the sense that no theologian should be extracted from the century or the circumstances in which he lived. However, theology is also historical by virtue of its long and diverse lineage. For instance, the church fathers – men like Irenaeus, Athanasius, and Augustine – have many theological grandchildren, one of whom is named John Calvin.2 As Geneva‟s reformer began to study the imago Dei, certain definitions, questions, and debates concerning this doctrine were already at work in his mind since he had inherited that cognitive material from the early church. Therefore, in order to better understand Calvin, it is advantageous, if not imperative, to have some understanding of what the church fathers said about the image of God. Moreover, Calvin‟s theological ancestry does not come to a halt in the eighth century3 and then leapfrog directly into the sixteenth century. On the contrary, there is the medieval era which, in spite of its dark reputation, was filled with theological luminaries such as Peter Lombard, Thomas Aquinas, and William of Ockham. Calvin‟s relation to the scholastici4 is a conten-

1 John H. Leith, “The Doctrine of the Will in the Institutes of the Christian Religion,” in Reformatio Perennis: Essays on Calvin and the Reformation in Honour of Ford Lewis Battles, ed. B.A. Gerrish and Robert Benedetto (Pittsburg: Pickwick Press, 1981), 62. 2 The link between John Calvin and the church fathers is well established. Further bibliography on this topic can be found in Luchesius Smits, Saint Augustin dans l‟oeuvre de Jean Calvin (Assen: van Gorcum, 1958); Johannes van Oort, “John Calvin and the Church Fathers,” in The Reception of the Church Fathers in the West: From the Carolingians to the Maurists, ed. Irena Backus (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1997); Lane, Student of the Church Fathers. 3 John of Damascus (ca. 675–749 AD) is commonly regarded as the last of the ancient church fathers. 4 The term scholastic has acquired a predominantly negative connotation, since it has been linked to dry, abstract debate about theological minutiae. However, in the sixteenth century the

A homiletic point of departure

35

tious issue. Some see Calvin‟s theology as an antithesis to scholastic discourse, while others assert that there is just as much continuity as discontinuity.5 Returning to the genealogical analogy above, it might be said that Calvin could hardly avoid inheriting some theological genes from his forebears in the medieval era. At the same time, he was not beholden to their views. He strove to rectify those things that appeared wrong to him and ameliorate matters that seemed deficient. Accordingly, in this present overview of the background to Calvin‟s teaching on the imago Dei, theologians of both the ancient and the medieval church will be discussed. In due course, this historical background will also help to answer some questions identified in the previous chapter. Does Calvin reform the doctrine of the imago Dei? If so, how does he do this? Does he correct errors that crept in during the Middle Ages and return to the teachings of the early church? Alternatively, does he use certain helpful distinctions introduced by the medieval scholastici in order to solve anthropological problems which the ancient church fathers had left lingering? And finally, does the author of the Institutes introduce any original insights which had not been previously brought to light? Therefore, the primary goal of this overview is not to evaluate thoroughly all the various positions taken by all the different theologians. Rather, the aim is to provide a historically cognizant point of reference from which Calvin‟s teaching on the image of God can be evaluated. Naturally, this synopsis of ancient and medieval teaching concerning the image of God needs to be realistically restricted. There are simply too many theologians and too many viewpoints to cover them all. Therefore, what follows is a representative sample of writers.6 In addition, these diverse perspectives will be catalogued according to subject rather than author. To be more specific, this dogma-historical overview will follow the tried-andtrue triad of creation, fall, and redemption.

word scholasticus simply meant academic and could be used positively or negatively, depending on the context and circumstances. See Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin, 43. 5 On this topic see Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin, 39–61; as well as A.A. LaVallee, Calvin‟s Criticism of Scholastic Theology (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1967); David Steinmetz, “The Scholastic Calvin,” in Protestant Scholasticism: Essays in Reassessment, ed. C.R. Trueman and R.S. Clark (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1999) and Lane, Student of the Church Fathers, 15–66. 6 By making use of and building upon the research of others, it is possible to give a more succinct overview of such a large span of history. Therefore, although primary sources will be quoted in this chapter, numerous references will also be made to secondary sources.

36

The Imago Dei in the Ancient and Medieval Church

2.1 Designed: The Image of God in the Garden 2.1.1 “Let us make man in our image” 2.1.1.1 Intellect and Choice In the second century AD, Justin Martyr laid down an important cornerstone for the church‟s definition of the imago Dei. He wrote, “In the beginning He [God] made the human race with the power of thought and of choosing the truth and doing right, so that all men are without excuse before God; for they have been born rational and contemplative.”7 So, for Justin Martyr the image of God focuses on ratio et voluntas, reason and volition, the two primary faculties of the soul. Moreover, judging by the last phrase of his statement, he appears to give more weight to the intellectual capacity of humans. This church father could have never imagined how many future generations of theologians would continue to use his basic definition, albeit in slightly modified forms. Clement of Alexandria,8 Tertullian,9 Athanasius,10 Gregory of Nyssa11 and Augustine,12 to cite but a few, all refer to the soul‟s intellect and will as they explain the created similitude between God and human beings. This focus on reason and volition ought to be understood within the cultural milieu of the early church. The Greek philosopher, Aristotle (382–322 BC), had already provided his famous definition of human beings as rational animals. Consequently, long before Justin Martyr, it was commonly understood that the primary difference between animals and humans was one of cognitive capacity. Moreover, in Genesis 1, God only made man, male and female, in his image and likeness, not the other creatures. Thus, when the text of Scripture is interpreted with the assumptions of Greek philosophy in mind, the outcome is predictable: the primary similarity between God and humans is identified as the ability to cogitate and contemplate. At the same time, the other main faculty of the soul, the will, could not be ignored either. The widespread influence of Gnosticism compelled the early church fathers to defend the created freedom of human beings against the inherent determinism which pervaded the teachings of Cerinthus and

7

Justin Martyr, First Apology, ANF 1:172. Johannes Quasten, ed., Patrology (Westminster: The Newman Press, 1950–1988), 3.292. 9 Tertullian, Against Marcion, ANF 3:301, 304. 10 Athanasius, Against the Heathen, NPNF(2) 4:31; Athanasius, Festal Letter #2, NPNF(2) 4:510. 11 As quoted in Quasten, Patrology, 3.292. 12 Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:125. 8

Designed: The Image of God in the Garden

37

Valentinus on the creation of humans.13 In fact, Tertullian even prioritized the will above the intellect in his explanation of the imago Dei, stating that Adam was created “free, master of his own will and power.”14 Regardless of these differing emphases, there is a general consensus among the church fathers that in the garden of Eden humans reflected their Maker by being able to reason as he does and having the freedom to choose like he does. Additional aspects also receive some attention. Athanasius, bishop of Alexandria, highlights incorruptibility and immortality as important elements of the imago Dei.15 In other words, even as God himself is immortal, so he also designed human beings not to die, but to live. In this way Athanasius extends the scope of God‟s image beyond rational and volitional concerns so that it also embraces the basic, existential question of how long humans were designed to live. Furthermore, in his noteworthy treatise, On the Making of Man, Gregory of Nyssa speaks of God painting “purity, freedom from passion, blessedness, alienation from all evil, and all those attributes of the like kind” upon the canvas of humankind.16 He also refers to a capacity for love as being part of the likeness which God imprinted upon Adam and Eve at creation.17 Thus Gregory enlarges the territory of the imago Dei even more by including moral and emotional considerations. Still, these additional aspects do not detract from the overall consensus in the ancient church: the imago Dei was defined primarily in terms of human intellect and choice. This basic definition remains much the same throughout the middle ages. Both Anselm18 and Peter Lombard19 highlight the human ability to comprehend and express truth as a key part of the image of God. Thomas 13 According to Irenaeus, Gnosticism categorized people into three different types: the spiritual, the psychical, and the material. As a class of people, the spirituals are inherently good, since they trace their origin back to Achamoth, who, in turn, traces her origin back to the Pleroma. Anything that comes from the Pleroma is inherently good. On the opposite end of the spectrum there are the material persons. By contrast, they are inherently evil and corruptible. And, between those two extremes, stands the class of psychical persons. Depending on how they live their lives, they can incline themselves toward the good (spiritual) or toward the evil (material). However, even though they may move in either direction, no one from the psychical class may cross the borderline and join any other class. In fact, all three classes of people are bound, by nature and necessity, to remain in the class in which they were created. See Irenaeus, Against Heresies, ANF 1:322–323. 14 Tertullian, Apology, ANF 3:301. 15 J. Roldanus, Le Christ et l‟Homme dans la Théologie d‟Athanase d‟Alexandrie (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1977), 62. 16 Athanasius, On the Making of Man, NPNF(2) 5:391. 17 Zachary C. Xintaras, “Man: The Image of God According to the Greek Fathers,” GOTR 1, no. 1 (August 1954): 59. 18 Jasper Hopkins, A Companion to the Study of St. Anselm (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1972), 128. 19 Philipp W. Rosemann, Peter Lombard (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 106.

38

The Imago Dei in the Ancient and Medieval Church

Aquinas also emphasizes the intellect, but he draws a close connection between knowing and loving. For Aquinas, the imago Dei can be defined as “the human natural aptitude to know and love God.”20 In this regard, even though Aquinas sought to create a synthesis between philosophy and theology, it is remarkable that in his writing on the image of God there is a conspicuous absence of sophistry.21 Rather, an emphasis on love pervades those particular sections of his Summa Theologica. In addition, there were other medieval voices who warned against defining the image of God in exclusively cognitive terms. Bernard of Clairvaux reminded his readers that the human soul had the faculty to choose and to cogitate, and that both intellect and will belonged to the imago Dei.22 Bernard‟s perspective was largely shared by William of Ockham as well.23 Thus, ever since the days of Justin Martyr, there has been a relatively consistent acknowledgment that the image of God is connected to the cognitive and volitional capacities of human beings. At the same time, there were some church fathers and medieval theologians who proposed that other aspects and attributes of human nature belonged to the imago Dei as well.

2.1.1.2 Image equals likeness? A question that arises naturally from the text of Genesis 1 is whether the image24 of God is identical to his likeness.25 The majority of church fathers suggest that they are not the same. According to Irenaeus, Adam and Eve were initially created in God‟s image but also in a state of childlike naiveté. In other words, they had to mature, and through that process of intellectual and spiritual maturation they could eventually acquire the likeness of God.26 20 Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I,93,4–5; see also Thomas Franklin O‟Meare, Thomas Aquinas Theologian (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997), 108. 21 Jaroslav Pelikan, “Imago Dei: An Explication of Summa Theologiae, Part 1, Question 93,” in Calgary Aquinas Studies, ed. Anthony Parel (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1978), 29–30. 22 John E. Sullivan, The Image of God: The Doctrine of St. Augustine and Its Influence (Dubuque: Priory Press, 1963), 210. 23 Gordon Leff, William of Ockham: The Metamorphosis of Scholastic Discourse (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1975), 529. 24 The Hebrew word for image, ‫ ֶצלֶם‬, is often used for a carved statue, but can also be used of a shadow. See appropriate entry in L. Koehler et al., The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1994–1996). 25 The Hebrew word for likeness, ‫דְּ מּות‬, refers to the outline or representation of some object or person. See appropriate entry in HALOT. 26 James G.M. Purves, “The Spirit and the Imago Dei: Reviewing the Anthropology of Irenaeus of Lyons,” EvQ 68, no. 2 (1996): 105–6; Lars Thunberg and Bernard McGinn, “The Human Person As Image of God,” in Christian Spirituality: Origins to the Twelfth Century, ed. Bernard McGinn and John Meyendorff (New York: Crossroad, 1985), 294; Xintaras, “The Image of God According to the Greek Fathers,” 52.

Designed: The Image of God in the Garden

39

In fact, the full likeness would only be obtained in the glorious consummation at the end of the age. Other church fathers support this differentiation between image and likeness, including Clement,27 Origen28 and Gregory of Nazianzen.29 One notable exception is Augustine, who asserts, “The only relation that I can see is that he [Moses] wished to signify the very same reality by these two words [„image‟ and „likeness‟].”30 Regardless of who is exegetically correct it is worth noting that the church fathers generally have a dynamic, rather than a static, view of the imago Dei. They see room for development, progress, and growth in human goodness, even ante lapsum. This dynamic point of view prevents a possible misunderstanding. In and of itself, the word image readily conjures up the idea of a stone statue.31 Such a sculpture neither grows nor goes; it merely stands, mutely and rigidly. Although the analogy of sculpting might provide some helpful insights into the imago Dei, the Fathers are generally inclined to adopt a more dynamic and organic understanding of the doctrine. Their perspective is apropos since the human beings which reflect God‟s likeness are living persons, not lithoid petrifactions. Most of the scholastici disagreed with Augustine and sided with the eastern Fathers who drew a line of distinction between imago and similitudo. Peter Lombard expressed this in a variety of ways: “the image is considered [to consist] in the understanding of truth, the likeness in the love of virtue”; or “the image is considered [to consist] in everything else, the likeness in the essence”; or “the image […] pertains to the form, the likeness to the nature.”32 However, in spite of the variations, he consistently maintains that “image” is something different from “likeness.” Aquinas etches a similar line of demarcation, although he adds a new element by bringing the donum superadditum into the discussion. For him the imago Dei is the created nature of the soul with its rational and volitional faculties, whereas the similitudo is the special gift of original righteousness which God gave to man and woman at the beginning.33 Needless to say, this donum superaddi-

27 As explained in Arne J. Hobbel, “The Imago Dei in the Writings of Origen,” Studia Patristica 21 (1989): 304. 28 Hobbel, “The Imago Dei,” 304–5; Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 294. 29 Anna-Stina Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man: A Study in the Theological Anthropology of Gregory of Nazianzus (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1981), 25. 30 Augustine, Seven Books of Questions, V,4; see Sullivan, The Image of God, 11. 31 As mentioned in note 24, the Hebrew word, ‫ ֶצלֶם‬, is used for a carved statue; however, it can also be used of a shadow. This indicates that the word fundamentally refers to some likeness of an original exemplar, regardless of whether the likeness is animate or inanimate. 32 Lombard, Sentences 2, dist. 16, chap. 3, no. 5; see also Rosemann, Peter Lombard, 105. 33 H. Wheeler Robinson, The Christian Doctrine of Man, Third ed. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1926), 205.

40

The Imago Dei in the Ancient and Medieval Church

tum generates a firestorm of controversy a few centuries later in the time of the Reformation.

2.1.1.3 Created capacity Some Fathers also advance the idea that the image of God includes various capacities. Basil the Great suggested that a capacity for fellowship with God was subsumed within the imago Dei.34 Along similar lines, Gregory of Nyssa highlighted the capacity for love which the Creator instilled in human beings.35 However, it was Augustine who identified the most comprehensive capacity when he spoke of capax Dei.36 This notion of capax Dei dovetails with the aforementioned patristic tendency of regarding the image of God as something which is dynamic. In the garden of Eden, God gave special gifts and privileges to Adam and Eve, but he also expected them to work with those endowments, maximizing the potentials within their privileges.37 At the same time, the capax Dei concept has its own inherent potential to cause complications when the effect of sin is brought to bear on the discussion. For instance, did Adam and Eve‟s original transgression cause them to forfeit fellowship with God, or in addition to that, did they lose the very capacity to have fellowship with their Creator? The schoolmen spoke of abiding capacities, also after the advent of iniquity. For example, Bernard of Clairvaux stated that Christ, who is the image of God (Col 1:15), is also truth, wisdom, and righteousness.38 However, the human soul, which was created in the image of God, is capable of truth, wisdom, and righteousness (and it desires these things) but of itself it does not possess them.39 Thus, this well-known Cistercian monk taught that the difference between Christ and human beings is that Christ already and eternally has that which humans are only capable of having. Thomas Aquinas put significant stock in the enduring, natural capacity of men and women to understand and love God.40 Likewise, John Duns Scotus has high regard for the capabilities of the human soul, especially the

Xintaras, “The Image of God According to the Greek Fathers,” 57. Xintaras, “The Image of God According to the Greek Fathers,” 59. 36 Sullivan, The Image of God, 51–3. 37 Cornelia S. Wolfskeel, “Some Remarks With Regard to Augustine‟s Conception of Man As the Image of God,” Vigiliae Christianae 30, no. 1 (1976): 67–8. 38 Bernard of Clairvaux, Selected Works, trans. G.R. Evans (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), 259. 39 Bernard, Selected Works, 259–60. 40 Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I, 93, 4–5; see also O‟Meare, Thomas Aquinas Theologian, 108. 34 35

Designed: The Image of God in the Garden

41

will, to seek after communion with God.41 Finally, in the fifteenth century, a German bishop by the name of Nicholas of Cusa injected new life into the discussion when he suggested that the imago Dei has everything to do with the fact that just as God has the ability to create new things, so also humans have an enormous capacity for creative and conjectural thinking.42 Still, regardless of the ability to which one points, the question remains: how much can that human capacity actually achieve? Also, in which way and to what degree is the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit needed? These issues, introduced in the early centuries of the Christian church and debated thoroughly in the medieval era, still linger in the sixteenth century. 2.1.1.4 Augustine‟s anthropological trinity No discussion of the patristic definition of God‟s image would be complete without reference to Augustine‟s unique contribution. On the sixth day of creation God announced, “Let us make man in our image” (Gen 1:26). For the most part, the patres concur that the plural pronouns in that verse refer to the three persons of the Triune God.43 However, Augustine takes this a step farther and finds a sort of trinity in the human soul. The soul remembers itself (memoria sui), understands itself (notitia sui), and loves itself (amor sui). These three faculties, though distinct, are essentially one.44 For Augustine this is the anthropological trinity which reflects the likeness of the divine Trinity. Yet, as John Sullivan points out, it is simplistic to assert that Augustine‟s view of the image of God is nothing more than his trinity of memoria, notitia, et amor sui. To begin with, the psychological trinity is only found in Augustine‟s later writings, particularly his De Trinitate.45 In his earlier treatises, the bishop of Hippo mainly speaks of humankind‟s ratio superior in connection with the imago Dei.46 In this regard he does not differ greatly from the rest of the Fathers. Futhermore, the mature Augustine developed not one, but three different versions of his psychological trinity. The first was mens, notitia sui, amor sui; the second became memoria, intelligentia, voluntas sui; and the last iteration was memoria Dei, intelligentia, voluntas. 41

As described in Robinson, Christian Doctrine of Man, 208. Pauline Moffitt Watts, Nicolaus Cusanus: A Fifteenth-Century Vision of Man (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1982), 91. 43 Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Athanasius, Basil the Great, and Gregory of Nazianzen all interpret Gen 1:26 as referring to the Triune God. Cf. Sullivan, The Image of God, 168–84. 44 Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 319–20. 45 Sullivan, The Image of God, 84. 46 Bernard J.F. Lonergan, “The Concept of Verbum in the Writings of St. Thomas Aquinas (V. Imago Dei),” TS 10, no. 3 (1949): 359. 42

42

The Imago Dei in the Ancient and Medieval Church

Finally, Augustine never intended his inner trinity to be narcissistic, as if its sole purpose was merely to remember, understand, and love oneself. On the contrary, the human soul ought to be directed beyond itself, back towards its Creator. In De Trinitate he writes, “Hence this trinity of the mind is not on that account the image of God because the mind remembers itself, understands itself, and loves itself, but because it can also remember, understand, and love him by whom it was made.”47 Augustine‟s idea of the anthropological trinity held sway within the Christian church for many years after his death. Anselm,48 Abelard,49 Lombard,50 Bernard of Clairvaux,51 Aquinas,52 and even Nicholas of Cusa53 use the anthropological trinity in their analysis of the imago Dei. To be sure, some theologians adapt Augustine‟s position to fit their own preferences. For example, whereas Abelard relates the Father to human power, the Son to reason, and the Spirit to innocence, Nicholas finds a triad of plurality, equality, and distinction within the soul which reflects similar attributes with the triune Godhead. Yet, in spite of adaptations and variations, it is nonetheless remarkable that Augustine‟s anthropological trinity exercised considerable influence over numerous theologians who came after him.

2.1.2 The seat of the image While the definition of the image of God is one matter, its precise location is another topic. The former asks what, the latter inquires where. Justin Martyr confidently asserts that human flesh, made from the dust of the earth, was also created in the image of God, and for that reason it is absurd to say that the body is contemptible.54 With this statement he is clearly counteracting the widespread Platonism of his day, in which most sages venerated the immortal soul but denigrated the imprisoning body.55 However, in this regard, Justin Martyr is a rather lonely voice among his patris-

47

Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:191; cf. Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person,

320. 48

Sullivan, The Image of God, 209. Sullivan, The Image of God, 209. 50 Rosemann, Peter Lombard, 106. 51 Sullivan, The Image of God, 210. 52 Lonergan, “The Concept of Verbum,” 359. 53 Watts, Nicolaus Cusanus, 92. 54 Justin Martyr, Fragments, ANF 1:297. 55 Walter A. Elwell, ed., Evangelical Dictionary of Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1984), 859. 49

Designed: The Image of God in the Garden

43

tic colleagues. To mention only a few, Irenaeus,56 Origen,57 Tertullian,58 Gregory of Nyssa,59 and Augustine60 are all of the same mind that the seat of God‟s image is found primarily in the human soul rather than in the physical flesh. The logic behind this interpretation is relatively straightforward: God has no physical body since he is spirit. Therefore, his similitude must reside in the spiritual, not the physical, component of human beings, namely, the soul. Augustine describes the seat of the image even more precisely when he locates it in the mens.61 At first glance it may seem that this leads to a purely intellectualistic perspective on the imago Dei. Yet upon closer examination this is not the case. Mens, according to Augustine, is more than merely mind. It also includes memory and the human will. 62 Thus, there is certainly a voluntaristic aspect to the Augustinian view on the seat of the image. Later theologians took much the same stance on this issue as Augustine did. For Aquinas mens was not only cognitive ability, but intellect, memory, and will combined,63 whereas William of Ockham included the abilities of knowing and willing equally.64 At the same time, and perhaps surprisingly so, Augustine does open the door, albeit ever so slightly, to some connection between the physical flesh and the image of God. To be sure, God‟s likeness is located in the soul, or mens, but the body can function as a witness to the imago Dei. For example, the manner in which all the members of the human body are intricately woven together is a testimony to God‟s wisdom and goodness.65 For Augustine, though, these corporeal likenesses can never be more than vestiges66 of the true image which resides in the soul. Similarly, Origen will say that, in contrast to the quadruped stance of most animals, the upright posture of human beings is an indication that they alone were created in God‟s image.67 Finally, approximately a millennium later, Aquinas also noted that when humans walk erect on two feet, they are exhibiting a vestige of God‟s

56

Quasten, Patrology, 311. Origen, Concerning the Beginnings, ANF 4:376, 602. 58 Tertullian, Against Marcion, ANF 3:300. 59 Daniel E. Scuiry, “The Anthropology of St. Gregory of Nyssa,” Diakonia 18, no. 1 (1983): 57

31. 60

Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 319. Sullivan, The Image of God, 47–8. 62 Sullivan, The Image of God, 47–8. 63 Sullivan, The Image of God, 228–9. 64 Leff, William of Ockham, 530. 65 Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:148; Augustine, A Treatise on Faith and the Creed, NPNF(1) 5:362. 66 Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 319. 67 On the Beginnings, ANF 4:181; cf. Hobbel, “The Imago Dei,” 303. 61

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likeness.68 Nevertheless, whatever tangential point of contact these theologians may make between the imago Dei and the corpus hominis, the overarching agreement is that only the human soul can truly reflect the divine Spirit.

2.1.3 All creatures great and small Although the Scriptures clearly affirm that only human beings are created in God‟s image, it is nonetheless apparent to the observant eye that certain imprints of the divine attributes can be found throughout the created order. Surely, the soaring, snow-capped peak of Mt. Everest reflects the Creator‟s majesty. The sudden, sonic force of a thunderclap gives at least some indication of how powerful the Almighty is. The dark mysteries of the deep sea correspond to the inscrutable marvels of divine wisdom. So, how do the Fathers account for these phenomena? Can the image of God still be attributed exclusively to human beings when parallels abound between the Creator and all creatures, both great and small? Augustine, the bishop of Hippo, agrees that many created beings reflect the attributes of God in some way, but human beings retain the unique distinction of being in God‟s image because there is no other creature which stands between them and God. This is also known as Augustine‟s principle of nulla natura interposita.69 A mountain may reflect the majesty of God, but on the cosmic scale of dignity, a mountain does not stand between God and humankind. As the psalmist declares, “You made him [man] a little lower than God,”70 and there is no other creature that may position itself in that “little” bit of metaphysical space between God and human beings. Consequently, in the garden of Eden, the endowment of the imago Dei belonged exclusively to Adam and Eve. The Cappadocian Fathers saw this endowment not only as a privilege but also as a responsibility. More so than any other creature, human beings are intimately connected to both the heavenly and earthly realms. They are allied with the earthly realm by virtue of the fact that they have a material body just like every other creature. In fact, the Cappadocians regularly spoke of the human body as an orderly microcosm which mirrors the vast, yet organized, universe of all created things.71 At the same time, humans are united with the celestial sphere since they possess a spirit created in the Pelikan, “Imago Dei,” 33–4; Walter Farrell, A Companion to the Summa, 4 vols., vol. 1.2, The Architect of the Universe (London: Sheed and Ward, 1941), 270. 69 Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 318; Sullivan, The Image of God, 16–7. 70 Ps 8:5. 71 Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 297. 68

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image of the God of heaven himself. As Gregory of Nazianzen phrases the matter, the soul is “from God and divine and partakes of the nobility above, and hastens to it even if it is bound together with the inferior [nature]”.72 For this reason, not only Gregory of Nazianzen, but also Basil of Caesarea and Gregory of Nyssa observe that this dual nature puts humans in the unique position of being able to serve as mediators between the two realms.73 They can, so to speak, stand in the breach between Creator and creation, drawing the two closer together and “linking [the] world to the Creator in worshipful perfection.”74 Among the scholastici, Anselm concurred with the Cappadocians. Human beings, by their very nature, straddle the heavenly and earthly realms and therefore occupy a unique position and responsibility among the rest of God‟s creatures.75 However, the medieval theologians do not take to Augustine‟s principle of nulla natura interposita quite as readily as they did to his anthropological trinity. Instead, men like Thomas Aquinas, and later Nicholas of Cusa, see the distinction between human beings and God‟s other creatures in decidedly more rational terms. Men and women can consider, cogitate, and conjecture – this is what sets them apart from the rest of creation.76 2.1.4 “Let them have dominion” Whether or not God made Adam and Eve to be intermediaries for creation, as the Cappadocian Fathers suggest,77 it is clear that the Creator commanded them to be stewards over creation. Immediately after he created man and woman in his likeness, God blessed them with the following mandate: “Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground” (Gen 1:28). Right from the beginning, humans were created to wear a crown. Augustine and John of Damascus maintained that this royal commission was related to, but not identical with, the imago Dei.78 For them the connection between the two 72

Gregory Nazianzen, Orations 2.17; Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man, 17–8. Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man, 17; Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 295–7. 74 Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 297. 75 Hopkins, St. Anselm, 122. 76 Pelikan, “Imago Dei,” 32; Watts, Nicolaus Cusanus, 103–4. 77 The notion of Adam and Eve being created as intermediaries is problematic because it introduces the notion of some kind of antimony between God and creatures, even before the fall into sin. It also suggests that what is physical is inherently evil while that which is spiritual is inherently good. Such a teaching finds its origin in Plato, not in the Scriptures. 78 Augustine, A Treatise on Grace and the Free Will, NPNF(1) 5:454; John of Damascus, An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, NPNF(2) 9:42. 73

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was one of cause and consequence. As image-bearers humans are uniquely related to the King of kings, and consequently they participate in his royal responsibility to govern over the creatures above and below. Taking a slightly different approach, Chrysostom delineated an even tighter association between imago Dei and dominium. In a sermon on Hebrews 1:3 he declares: In that man is called an Image, it shows resemblance […]. For what God is in Heaven, that man is on earth, I mean as to dominion. And as he has power over all things on earth, so also God has power over all things which are in heaven and which are on earth.79

Here the eloquent preacher of Constantinople virtually identifies similitude with the Creator and sovereignty over creation. Nevertheless, it is imperative to recall the context in which he does so. He is expounding the first few verses of Hebrews, which describe Christ as “the exact representation” of God‟s being (Heb 1:3). In the very same verse, the Scriptures go on to speak of how Christ is “sustaining all things by his powerful word.” Thus, since the resemblance and the reign of Christ are adjacent to each other in Scripture, it is not surprising that Chrysostom nearly identifies the two when his sermon applies this truth to human beings. 2.1.5 “Male and female he created them” Issues relating to gender and the image of God have generated significant discussion among scholars in recent years.80 Yet this intense interest in our modern age was not necessarily shared by the early church in exactly the same manner. In this regard anachronism ought to be assiduously avoided. Nevertheless, in their own context and culture, the church fathers paid significant attention to how the image of God relates to both men and women. Toward the end of the second century AD, in his Stromata, Clement of Alexandria asserts that “conformity with the image and likeness [of God] is not meant of the body (for it would be wrong for what is mortal to be made like what is immortal), but in mind and reason.”81 However, in his Paidagogos he avers that God‟s image in men and women is also linked to the 79

Chrysostom, Homilies on the Epistle to the Hebrews, NPNF(1) 14:370; archaic pronouns and verb forms updated. 80 For instance, a helpful collection of essays on this topic can be found in Kari Elisabeth Børresen, ed., The Image of God: Gender Models in Judaeo-Christian Tradition (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995). See also Julia O‟Faolain and Lauro Martines, Not in God‟s Image: Women in History From the Greeks to the Victorians (New York: Harper & Row, 1973). 81 Clement, Stromata, ANF 2:370; the language of this quotation has been slightly updated.

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ability to procreate. When new life is brought forth from a husband and a wife, they are, in some small and limited way, similar to God himself who created new life in the beginning.82 Even though his inclusion of the body in the Paidagogos seems to undermine his exclusion of the same in the Stromata, it remains true that Clement attributes the imago Dei to both men and women.83 In the third century AD, the renowned author of the Hexapla, Origen, sets forth his view on the matter. According to him, Genesis 1 and Genesis 2 are not two distinct accounts of one and the same divine fiat. Instead, he maintains that these chapters speak of two entirely different creations. In the first creation, God made purely spiritual, rational human beings, while in the second one he made physical bodies for them after he cast them out of Paradise.84 Thus, for Origen, human beings did not exist as either male or female until the time following the fall into sin.85 Hence it was the pregender human being who was created in the likeness of God. Later on, this Alexandrian theologian added that if the sinful mind strives to contemplate heavenly things, then it is acting in a masculine manner, whereas if that same mind stoops to consider earthly things, it has fallen into a feminine mode of thought.86 Evidently, although Origen began with an asexual – or more accurately, presexual – understanding of the image of God, he eventually incorporated a decidedly masculine bias into it. Moving from Alexandria to Africa, Origen‟s western counterpart, Tertullian, broaches the male-female question in his Fifth Book Against Marcion. There he refers to 1 Corinthians 11:3, 7 which is the crux interpretum for matters pertaining to the divine image and human gender. In that chapter the Apostle Paul writes, “Now I want you to realize that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of the woman is man […]. A man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of man.” Tertullian makes the following comments on these verses: Of what man indeed is He [Christ] the head? Surely of him concerning whom he adds soon afterwards: “The man ought not to cover his head, forasmuch as he is the image 82

Clement, Paidagogos, ANF 2:259. See Børresen, The Image of God, 194–5, who categorizes Clement as one who teaches “asexual God-likeness.” 84 Origen‟s allegorical hermeneutic leads him to disregard the chronological order of Gen 1–3. The creation of male and female is found in Gen 1, while the fall into sin does not occur until Gen 3. However, Origen reverses the order and puts sin before the creation of the physical body, and therefore also before the creation of man and woman. See also Boniface Ramsey, Beginning to Read the Fathers (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), 58–9. 85 Maryanne Cline Horowitz, “The Image of God in Man: Is Woman Included?” HTR 72, no. 3–4 (July–October 1979): 193–4. 86 Horowitz, “Woman Included?” 194. 83

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of God.” Since then he is the image of the Creator (for He, when looking on Christ His Word, who was to become man, said, “Let us make man in our own image, after our likeness”), how can I possibly have another head but Him whose image I am? For if I am the image of the Creator there is no room in me for another head.87

Although his exposition is concise, the main tenor of Tertullian‟s position is clear. Essentially, it is a variation of Augustine‟s principle of nulla natura interposita. As Tertullian sees it, headship and image are intricately intertwined in 1 Corinthians 11. Man is the head of woman, but Christ is the head of man. Inquiring further as to the origin of Christ‟s headship over man, Tertullian points to the fact that man was created in the image of Christ. At the same time, this means that no one can stand between Christ and man – nulla natura interposita – thereby leaving woman to occupy a position below man.88 Yet do women not also reflect the image of God in some manner? Tertullian fails to answer that question directly. However, extrapolating his line of argumentation, he appears to suggest that God did not originally create Eve with her own independent likeness of God. Instead she must have obtained her imago Dei via her husband Adam. Looking at this question from a different vantage point, Tertullian, in his treatise on the apparel of women, exhorts ladies to wear modest clothing, the “garb of penitence.”89 Moreover, in the course of this rebuke, the bishop of Carthage sharply accuses all women by saying, “You destroyed so easily God‟s image, man.”90 Here Tertullian explicitly extends the imago Dei to man while withholding it from women. Returning to the east, the Cappadocian Fathers established a more evenhanded approach to the inclusion of Eve and her daughters within the image of God. Basil the Great asserts that male and female share the image of God equally because the imago Dei is spiritual.91 Masculinity and femininity belong to the corporeal realm, and therefore gender neither adds to, nor detracts from, the spiritual likeness between the Creator and his human creatures. Gregory of Nyssa, though, sees the matter in a different way than Basil, his older brother and mentor. Gregory finds it inconceivable that the likeness of God, who is spirit, could be mirrored in human gender, which is an inherently corporeal phenomenon. Consequently, he explains Genesis 87

Tertullian, Against Marcion, ANF 3:445. One might be tempted to argue that male and female stand on the same level, with no other creature between God and both of them. However, Tertullian‟s own comments do not indicate that he was thinking along those lines. 89 Tertullian, On the Apparel of Women, ANF 4:14. 90 Tertullian, On the Apparel of Women, ANF 4:14. 91 Basil, De hominis structura oratio 1 & Liber quatuor in principium Genesis as quoted in Horowitz, “Woman Included?” 196. 88

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1:27 by dividing the verse into two distinct sections. In his estimation, the first part of the verse – “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created them” – refers to human beings in relation to God. However, in the second half of the verse – “male and female he created them” – Gregory suggests that human beings are being compared to animals which are also differentiated into male and female for the purpose of procreation.92 In effect, he proposes a bifurcated imago Dei, in which humans are partly in the likeness of the God of heaven and partly in the likeness of the beasts of the field. Examining all of this, Maryanne Horowitz sums up the situation as follows: From the great Cappadocian brothers, there were passed down two interpretations of the last phrase of Gen 1:27: one which declared forthrightly that woman is equal in dignity to man and one that viewed the mention of woman as a forecast of sin and procreation.93

Toward the end of the fourth century AD, a commentary on the Pauline Epistles was penned by an individual who has become known as Ambrosiaster. Even though the identity of this commentator remains a mystery, he is quoted by medieval theologians and therefore merits notice. In both his Liber questionum veteris et novi testamenti and his commentary on 1 Corinthians 11, Ambrosiaster unequivocally says that women are not the image of God.94 His rationale for this position goes beyond merely mentioning that 1 Cor 11:7 speaks of man as the “image and glory of God.” He explains: And this is the image of God in man, because the one God made one man so that just as all things come from one God so all human beings might come from one man, and the image of the invisible God might be possessed on earth by the one visible man.95

Since Eve was not the source of Adam, but rather taken from the substance of Adam, she is ipso facto excluded from the imago Dei, according to Ambriosiaster. However, moving forward from creation, past the fall into sin, and on into the redemptive work of Christ, the situation changes dramatically. Commenting on Col 3:11, in conjunction with Gen 1:26, 27 and 1 Cor 11:7, he writes: This image, which is said to be created by the recognition of the saviour, is different from the image of God in which the first man was made. For the former image is present in woman too, when she recognizes the one God who created her and obeys 92

Gregory of Nyssa, On the Making of Man, NPNF(2) 5:404; Horowitz, “Woman Included?”

197. Horowitz, “Woman Included?” 198. Børresen, The Image of God, 191, 193. 95 As quoted in Børresen, The Image of God, 192–3. 93 94

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his will by refraining from a sordid life and perverse conduct, but the latter image is present only in man.96

Thus, so far as Ambrosiaster is concerned, women are excluded from the imago Dei at creation, but they are included in the restored imago Dei in Christ. Finally, before leaving the patristic era, mention should be made of Augustine, who endeavoured to resolve the apparent tension between Genesis 1 and 1 Corinthians 11. On the one hand, he concurs with Basil that men and women share God‟s image equally, as Genesis 1:27 indicates. Commenting on this verse he writes, “For this text says that human nature itself, which is complete only in both sexes, was made in the image of God; and it does not separate the woman from the image of God which it signifies.”97 On the other hand, the bishop of Hippo cannot, and does not, ignore the crux interpretum, 1 Corinthians 11. Instead he offers a threefold explanation. In the first place, he notes that although women share in the imago Dei, they do not possess it independently of man. As he expresses it, when the woman is regarded by “herself alone, then she is not the image of God; but as regards the man alone, he is the image of God as fully and completely as when the woman too is joined with him in one.”98 Second, he considers that Adam symbolizes superior reason which focuses upon the heavenly and eternal things, while Eve represents the inferior reason that tends to dwell on earthly and corporeal things.99 With this analogy between gender and the inner workings of the mind, Augustine mirrors the ideas of Origen, although there is no indication that he deliberately borrowed these thoughts from the Alexandrian. Third, Augustine tries to harmonize Gen 1:27 and 1 Cor 11:7 by proposing that the former dwells more upon the soul, while the latter gives more attention to the body. It is also for this reason, says Augustine, that the Apostle Paul enjoined women to wear a symbol of authority on her physical body, specifically, on her head. 100 Turning to the medieval era, Peter Abelard uses a sharp distinction between imago and similitudo to slice through the Gordian knot of the gender conundrum. He argues that men were created in both God‟s image and his resemblance, while women were only created in his resemblance. Reaching back to the ideas of Ambrosiaster, he substantiates his claim by writing, 96

As quoted in Børresen, The Image of God, 193. Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:158–59; also see Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 319; Wolfskeel, “Augustine‟s Conception of Man,” 64,68; Sullivan, The Image of God, 49. 98 Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:158–59. 99 Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:158–59; NPNF(1) 3:189; see also Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 319; Wolfskeel, “Augustine‟s Conception of Man,” 69–70. 100 1 Cor 11:10; Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:158. 97

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“man excels in similarity to God, since just like all things derive their existence from God, so woman herself and the entire human race have their origin from one man according to bodily transmission.”101 For the most part, Peter Lombard maintains the same position for similar reasons, thereby excluding women from the image of God.102 He also picks up on themes in Origen and Augustine when he allegorically associates “the inferior part of reason” with women, but the “superior part of reason” with men.103 For his part, Aquinas affirms that both male and female were created in the image and likeness of God,104 although he is also on record as describing a woman as “an incomplete man.”105 He, too, wrestles with 1 Corinthians 11 and, in the end, concludes: It is better to say that the Apostle is speaking symbolically. For he says about man that he is the image and glory of God, but he does not say about woman that she is the image and glory of man, only that she is the glory of man. This means that the image of God is common to both man and woman, whereas to be God‟s glory applies only to man.106

Thus, in the patristic and medieval eras, there is no clear consensus concerning the relationship between gender and the image of God. Some theologians conclude that women do not have the imago Dei. This position even made its way into Gratian‟s Decretum, the canon law of the church in the twelfth century.107 Other ecclesiastical scholars suggest that women possess the likeness of God, but not his image. Still others advance the position that women do have the image and likeness of God, but they go on to interpret 1 Corinthians 11 in an allegorical, and less than satisfactory, fashion.

101

As quoted in Børresen, The Image of God, 215. Børresen, The Image of God, 216. 103 Rosemann, Peter Lombard, 110. 104 Pelikan, “Imago Dei,” 33. 105 Farrell, A Companion to the Summa 1.2, 1.2:271. Aquinas has also been described as “a dark misogynist,” although that would appear to be an overstatement. See O‟Meare, Thomas Aquinas Theologian, 106–7. 106 As quoted in Børresen, The Image of God, 223. 107 Dempsey Douglass, Women, Freedom, and Calvin, 68. The text of the canon law concerning women and the imago Dei can be found in Gratian‟s Decretum, pars II, causa 33, question 5, chapter 13. It can be accessed online at: http://mdz.bib-bvb.de/digbib/gratian. 102

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2.2 Ruined: The Image of God outside the Garden 2.2.1 Effaced or defaced? Undoubtedly, the original sin in Paradise had a profound effect on human beings. The Adam and Eve who were sent outside of the garden were vastly different from the Adam and Eve who were first placed inside the garden. Righteousness was replaced by rebellion; innocence was exchanged for shame. Yet, becoming more precise, to what degree did the fall into sin spoil the image of God? Was the imago Dei severely damaged or utterly obliterated? The answer to this question affects soteriology as much as it impinges upon hamartiology. Needless to say, the deeper the wound goes, the more the Physician must do in order to heal it. For the most part, the Fathers speak of an image that has been defaced by the transgression that Eve and Adam committed in Eden.108 The likeness of God has been vandalized by, but has not been expunged from, the human race. This perspective is part and parcel of the Fathers‟ dynamic view of the imago Dei. From the quill of Irenaeus, for instance, came the expectation that Adam and Eve, who began in a state of naiveté, would eventually mature in both goodness and godliness.109 Sin brought about a severe regression in the process of maturation. Nevertheless, a setback in progress does not mean that the entire project must be abandoned. Rather, it indicates that more time, effort, and perhaps some help will be required. Therefore, so far as Irenaeus is concerned, all these things can be accomplished by a zealous synergy between God and humans.110 Athanasius, though, takes a dimmer view of the matter. In his Treatise on the Incarnation of the Word he writes, “The rational man made in God‟s image was disappearing, and the handiwork of God was in process of dissolution.”111 In other words, the imago Dei was not instantaneously obliterated the moment Eve picked the forbidden fruit, but it was surely doomed to destruction. Further on in the same treatise, Athanasius elaborates on this topic using the analogy of a portrait painted on a panel of wood: For as, when the likeness painted on a panel has been effaced by stains from without, he whose likeness it is must needs come once more to enable the portrait to be renewed on the same wood: for, for the sake of his picture, even the mere wood on which it is painted is not thrown away, but the outline is renewed upon it; in the same Xintaras, “The Image of God According to the Greek Fathers,” 51. Purves, “The Spirit and the Imago Dei,” 105–6; Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 294. 110 Demetrios Constantelos, “Irenaeos of Lyons and His Central Views on Human Nature,” St. Vladimir‟s Theological Quarterly 33, no. 4 (2001): 357–8. 111 Athanasius, On the Incarnation of the Word, NPNF(2) 4:39. 108 109

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way also the most holy Son of the Father, being the Image of the Father, came to our region to renew man once made in His likeness, and find him, as one lost, by the remission of sins.112

Remarkably, even though the portrait has been effaced by the stain of sin, there is still something there which should be retained and worked with, namely, the wood itself. At the same time, compared to Irenaeus, Athanasius still has a more dire view of what the fall did to the image of God. For him, original sin was not merely a large obstacle to be overcome, but it was a devastation which called for a complete overhaul. Along similar lines, Augustine describes the imago Dei post lapsum as being obscured and deformed to the point that it is worn out, imprisoned, and sick.113 Indeed, during the first two decades of his labours as a Christian theologian, he would occasionally speak of the annihilated image of God.114 In this way, so it seemed, he could do full justice to both human depravity and divine clemency. However, the fire of a controversy often purifies the expression of a doctrine. Such was the case with Augustine. Pelagius, the popular, British-born monk of Rome, consistently stressed that all human beings have an innate, autonomous capacity to take the necessary, initial steps toward restoring the image of God in them.115 So far as he was concerned, sin, like a sword, may wound, but the soul, like a body, has the capacity to heal itself, albeit with some assistance from the great Physician. This teaching forced Augustine to look more closely at exactly which capacities, or vestiges, remain within people after the fall.116 On the one side, he did not wish to accommodate to, or compromise with, the synergistic approach of Pelagius. On the other side, Augustine also did not want to leave the impression that he taught some type of fatalism in which human beings are merely stoic blocks of stone. After all, there was more than enough determinism among Gnostic preachers,117 and the bishop of Hippo was certainly not inclined to be associated with them. In the medieval epoch, Augustine‟s theological successors expressed significant optimism about the capabilities of fallen humanity. Nearly all the schoolmen maintained a distinction between imago and similitudo. Moreover, they asserted that while the similitudo was removed by original sin, the imago Dei was retained. The original righteousness was lost, but the underlying capacity to seek, know, and love God lives on, although the

112

Athanasius, On the Incarnation of the Word, NPNF(2) 4:39; NPNF(2) 4:43. Quasten, Patrology, 4.454. 114 Sullivan, The Image of God, 42–3. 115 EDT, 833. 116 Sullivan, The Image of God, 43. 117 EDT, 446. 113

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good inclinations are hampered by sinful desires.118 John Duns Scotus was even more confident about the innate capabilities of sinners since, unlike his predecessor Aquinas, he felt that while original righteousness was certainly lost in the fall, the natural human inclination toward good and God had not even been diminished by Adam and Eve‟s transgression.119

2.2.2 Looking for remnants among the ruins It is one thing to say that the image of God was not entirely obliterated and that some vestiges remain. However, it is quite another thing to accurately describe what those remnants are and to circumscribe how much humans can, or cannot, achieve with them. Augustine readily admits that, even after the tragedy of transgression, men and women continue to possess a rational, immortal soul.120 Perhaps it is surprising to some, but he was also willing to state that humans retain the freedom of their will after the fall, provided – and this is a crucial proviso – this freedom is properly understood as a liberty to live free of fate, not a freedom to initiate one‟s own salvation. 121 Harking back to Justin Martyr‟s original definition of the imago Dei as the faculties of intellect and choice, it is clear that Augustine finds both rational and volitional remnants among the ruins caused by sin. With these vestiges, human beings, even sinful ones, can be described as being capax Dei, or alternatively, as being capax sapientiae. So far as Augustine is concerned, this capacity will never lead to any kind of salvific result, unless the sovereign grace of God commences, continues, and finishes the redemptive work. Nevertheless, the underlying and requisite substratum for communion with the Almighty is still in place.122 In short, the remnants are restorable, but they are not the restorer.

2.3 Restored: The Image of God in Christ 2.3.1 The eminently qualified Son If human beings are not able to restore the imago Dei which they themselves ruined, another must be found to do the task. In his Exhortation to the Heathen, Clement of Alexandria identifies Jesus Christ as the Restorer: 118

Robinson, Christian Doctrine of Man, 207. Robinson, Christian Doctrine of Man, 208. 120 Sullivan, The Image of God, 44. 121 Thunberg and McGinn, The Human Person, 320–1. 122 Sullivan, The Image of God, 51–3. 119

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It is time, then, for us to say that the pious Christian alone is rich and wise, and of noble birth, and thus call and believe him to be God‟s image, and also His likeness, having become righteous and holy and wise by Jesus Christ, and so far already like God.123

It is noteworthy that Clement credits Christ with restoring his followers to be both God‟s image and his likeness. Concerning the created state, he maintained that human beings were initially created in God‟s image, but only obtained divine likeness over time.124 Yet now, in the restoration, both image and likeness are granted, it would seem, simultaneously. There is good reason for this subtle, yet significant, shift. The cause lies within the very nature of the restorer himself. As Irenaeus explains, “when […] the Word of God became flesh, He confirmed both [of] these,” that is, both image and likeness.125 Unlike the first Adam, the Second Adam is concurrently and inherently the full image and the full likeness of God the Father.126 This, in the first place, is what makes Christ so eminently suited for the task of restoring what sin had ruined. Since he himself is both the image and likeness of God, he is able to restore human beings in imago et similitudo Dei, thereby giving them even more than they had originally received at creation. However, the advantageous qualities of God‟s Son as restorer do not stop there. In the second place, Origen suggests that Christ is the image of God in a different, and more direct, manner than Adam was originally. He argues that humans were created according to or after the image of God.127 By contrast, Christ actually and fully is the image of God, even as the writer to the Hebrews calls the Son “the exact representation” of the Father.128 Lombard129 and Aquinas130 are of the same mind as Origen when he states 123

Clement, Exhortation to the Heathen, ANF 2:206. Hobbel, “The Imago Dei,” 304. 125 Irenaeus, Against Heresies, ANF 1:544. 126 Purves, “The Spirit and the Imago Dei,” 107. 127 Hobbel, “The Imago Dei,” 303. Assuming Origen was reading Gen 1:26 from the Septuagint, it is not surprising that he comes to the conclusion that he does. The LXX uses the preposition κατά (according to) twice, once in connection with εἰκόνα (image) and then again with ὁμοίωσιν (likeness). However, in the original Hebrew text two different prepositions are used: first ְּ (in) and then ְּ (according to). Therefore, using the LXX, Origen might have been able to substantiate his argument that Adam was only according to the image of God, but Christ actually was God‟s image. However, the original Hebrew text explicitly states that Adam was made in the image of God, not merely according to his likeness. 128 See Heb 1:3; Athanasius also makes the same point, saying that humans were created after the image of God but that Christ is the very image of God. See Origen, On the Incarnation of the Word, NPNF(2) 4:43. 129 Rosemann, Peter Lombard, 106. Just as the Septuagint uses one Greek preposition to translate two different Hebrew prepositions (see note 127 above), the Vulgate also uses one preposition, ad. Since the Latin preposition ad can mean not only according to but also toward it is possible 124

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that Adam was created ad imago Dei, while Christ is the imago Dei. In other words, that which human beings only approximate, Christ possesses so comprehensively that the Son is equal to, but not identical with, the Father. Obviously, possession is superior to approximation. This superiority, in turn, qualifies the Son of God to restore the image which had been ruined by the fall. For his part, Augustine did not place too much stock in Origen‟s distinctions. Referring to 1 Corinthians 11:7, he observes the following: For there are some who draw this distinction, that they will have the Son to be the image, but man not to be the image, but “after the image.” But the apostle refutes them, saying, “For a man indeed ought not to cover his head, forasmuch as he is the image and glory of God.”131

Exegetically speaking, the bishop of Hippo raises a compelling point. The Apostle Paul clearly states that the image of God in man is more than an approximation or aspiration; it is, in fact, part of man‟s identity.132 At the same time, the main tenet of Origen‟s argument is nevertheless valid: the eternal Son is the image of the everlasting Father in a manner that far transcends the likeness which any creature, even human beings, might possess. Athanasius brings forth yet a third benefit which accrues to those who are restored by Christ. They are refurbished by the very One who was the original exemplar. He makes his point in the allegory of the stained portrait when he writes, “For as, when the likeness painted on a panel has been effaced by stains from without, he whose likeness it is must needs come once more to enable the portrait to be renewed on the same wood.”133 The interpretation of Athanasius‟ short parable follows forthwith: “The most holy Son of the Father, being the Image of the Father, came to our region to renew man once made in His likeness.”134 The obvious implication of this allegory is that the first Adam was created in the likeness, not so much of the triune God, but more specifically of the Son of God, the second person of the Trinity. Indeed, this position is not only implied by Athanasius, but the Vulgate of Gen 1:26 led Lombard to think that human beings were created toward and approaching the image of God, without actually possessing it. Once again, the Hebrew original, ‫ ְּ ַצלְּמֵ נּו‬, does not allow for such an interpretation. 130 Pelikan, “Imago Dei,” 40–1; see previous note, which also applies to Aquinas. 131 Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:111; see also Sullivan, The Image of God, 21; Kenneth B. Steinhauser, “Creation in the Image of God According to Augustine‟s Confessions,” The Patristic and Byzantine Review 7, no. 2–3 (1988): 204. 132 Augustine is correct on this point for the word used in 1 Cor 11:7, ὑπάρχω, is a verb of existence not approximation. See appropriate entry in W. Arndt, F.W. Danker and W. Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000). 133 Athanasius, On the Incarnation of the Word, NPNF(2) 4:43. 134 Athanasius, On the Incarnation of the Word, NPNF(2) 4:43.

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explicitly stated by Tertullian.135 Whether or not such a predominantly Christocentric understanding of Genesis 1:26 can be sustained,136 it is true that since Christ belongs to the Trinity, and since the triune God is the exemplar from which the human image is made, the Son of God is uniquely and intimately acquainted with how the restoration of the imago Dei must proceed.

2.3.2 From glory to glory Although Clement of Alexandria appears to suggest that the restoration of the imago Dei by Christ is a fait accompli in all who believe in him,137 Augustine presents a more gradual process of renewal. John Sullivan aptly outlines the three phases in Augustine‟s view of the restoration. 138 The initial stage commences with the Spirit of Christ taking the ruined image and turning it around, back in the direction of what it once was in the garden of Eden. This new beginning is closely linked to baptism. Moreover, when Augustine asserts that even the first impetus for change comes from the side of the Restorer, rather than the one who is restored, he is aiming to refute the position of Pelagius, who typically credited human beings with that initiative. The middle, and most lengthy, stage is one of gradual, ongoing renewal. During this phase Christ rehabilitates the regenerate, step-by-step and virtue-by-virtue, erasing iniquity and inculcating holiness in the various faculties of the human soul. The picture is one of Christ patiently, but persistently, leading his followers on a long expedition back toward the divine likeness which they once had in the state of integrity. This notion of an extended return journey might be connected to Augustine‟s earlier involvement with neo-Platonism. Plontinus, a prominent Platonist, also spoke of the soul undertaking such a voyage back to its divine source. The noteworthy difference between Augustine and Plontinus, though, is that the latter saw the soul as a self-propelled entity, whereas the former attributed all progress to the divine Redeemer. The final stage is the long-awaited arrival at perfection. All lingering flaws and scratches in the refurbished imago Dei are finally removed in the great and glorious consummation, the second coming of Christ. This final 135

Tertullian, Against Praxeas, ANF 3:606. Indeed, most of the church fathers agree that the words us and our in Gen 1:26 refer to the Triune God, not just to the second person, the Son. 137 Clement, Exhortation to the Heathen, ANF 2:206. 138 All three of these points are summarized from helpful analysis found in Sullivan, The Image of God, 55–68. 136

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stage is also concomitant with the visio Dei when those who are like God will also be able to see him whose likeness they reflect. Augustine himself expresses the above analysis in an eloquent fashion when he writes: Certainly this renewal does not take place in the single moment of conversion itself, as that renewal in baptism takes place in a single moment by the remission of all sins; for not one, be it ever so small, remains unremitted. But as it is one thing to be free from fever, and another to grow strong again from the infirmity which the fever produced; and one thing again to pluck out of the body a weapon thrust into it, and another to heal the wound thereby made by a prosperous cure; so the first cure is to remove the cause of infirmity, and this is wrought by the forgiving of all sins; but the second cure is to heal the infirmity itself, and this takes place gradually by making progress in the renewal of that image.139

Thereafter, Augustine indicates that he derives his idea of the gradual renewal from 2 Corinthians 3:18. There the Apostle Paul writes, “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord‟s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” Although the theologians of the Middle Ages could agree with Augustine that salvation was a process in progress, they had a substantially different understanding of what that process involved. According to them, original sin took away the original righteousness (i.e., the similitudo) and only hampered the underlying, spiritual faculties (i.e., the imago). Thus, for Aquinas, salvation becomes a process of nurturing, assisting, and perfecting that which already lies with humanity‟s reach, rather than replacing what has been lost and restoring what has been ruined.140 John Duns Scotus takes it even further when he proposes that the restoration of the imago Dei is a matter of God replacing the original righteousness with the righteousness of Christ.141 Beyond that, humanity is more or less capable of taking care of itself.

2.3.3 Dabbling with deification Since humans were created in the image of God, are they also able to transcend the similarity and be transformed into divine beings themselves? In short, can mere mortals be deified? This is a question that intrigued some of the Fathers. Words of caution are usually sprinkled throughout their discus-

139

Augustine, On the Trinity, NPNF(1) 3:196. Robinson, Christian Doctrine of Man, 207. 141 Robinson, Christian Doctrine of Man, 208, 270ff. 140

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sion of deification, or theosis. The Fathers seem to sense that they are treading upon holy ground here. Nevertheless, they do tread! Irenaeus is among the first to broach the matter as part of his apologetic against Gnosticism. In his Against Heresies he says: The substance of life is participation in God. But to participate in God is to know God and enjoy his goodness. Men therefore shall see God that they may live, being made immortal by the vision and attaining even unto God.142

It is difficult to discern precisely what Irenaeus means by that last phrase: “attaining even unto God.” Does he simply mean that mortals will become immortal at the visio Dei, and in this way become like unto God? Or does he imply more? Is he perhaps thinking that the visio Dei will have such a profound, transformative effect upon the redeemed that in some sense they become divine? Decisive answers to these questions are hard to attain. However, Demetrios Constantelos wishes to leave no doubt that “[Irenaeus‟] ultimate concern was the transfiguration and the union of the individual with God – theosis is the ultimate mission of the human being.”143 The Cappadocian Fathers also dabble with the concept of deification. Gregory of Nyssa works with the well-known maxim: “like is known by like.” Extending this principle a little further, Gregory ponders whether humans, who know God, might also have something divine within them. He expresses his thoughts in the following manner: The eye enjoys the rays of light by virtue of the light which it has in itself by nature that it may apprehend the kindred […]. The same necessity requires, as regards the participation in God, that in the nature that is to enjoy God there be something kindred to Him who is to be partaken.144

Wrapped up in all of this is a certain mystical tendency. Participation in God is presented in such a way that it includes some kind of union with God. However, is that union a likeness of attributes or a blending of essences?145 Gregory‟s language can make it difficult to discern whether human nature is metaphysically mingled with divine nature.146 Irenaeus, Against Heresies, ANF 1:489, emphasis mine; cf. Constantelos, “Irenaeos of Lyons,” 354. 143 Constantelos, “Irenaeos of Lyons,” 358. 144 Quasten, Patrology, 3.293. 145 See Ben Drewey, “Deification,” in Christian Spirituality: Essays in Honour of Gordon Rupp, ed. Peter Brooks (London: SCM Press, 1975), 38–43. He argues that when the church fathers use the word deification they are usually referring to attributes such as ethical perfection, exemption from human passions, and exemption from mortal corruption. He also says that the path of theosis does not end in identity with God. 146 Gregory of Nazianzen also spoke of a certain mingling of heavenly and earthly realm. In his estimation, the original mingling of heaven and earth in Adam was not successful in the long term. 142

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However, where Irenaeus and Gregory of Nyssa may dabble, Gregory of Nazianzen forges a path straight ahead. According to him, the soul is not only “from God,” but is actually “divine and partakes of the nobility above.”147 Here the common patristic distinction between image and likeness also plays a role. Gregory links likeness to a moral similitude between God and humankind. As God is holy, so he created Adam and Eve to be holy. However, image transcends likeness, and this particular Cappadocian will even speak of the divinity of the soul.148 Carrying this theme of theosis to its own inherent end, Gregory suggests that eventually those who are restored in Christ will “be made god” and at the final consummation God will be “God amongst gods.”149 Fearing the potential charge of heresy, he does backtrack somewhat when he adds that humans will not literally become God, although he maintains that they will become “a piece broken off the invisible deity.”150 Gregory of Nazianzen‟s counterpart in the fifteenth century might well be Nicholas of Cusa. He, too, spoke of man eventually becoming God, but doing so in a human way. 151 The thought of theosis appears to be so enticing that, regardless of era or area, it refuses to fade away.

2.4 Summary Genealogy is an intriguing mix of consistency and change. Posterity may differ from parentage, but not nearly as much as one might initially think. This phenomenon of familiarity and constancy amidst alteration and adaptation can also be seen in the history of the imago Dei doctrine. 1. To begin with, the basic definition of the image of God remains remarkably constant throughout the first fifteen centuries of the Christian church. Theologians from different areas and eras generally agree that the image of God consists of intellect and choice since, by using these two faculties, the human soul best reflects the Creator who reveals truth and who is free to choose. 2. Over time the understanding of the imago Dei also grows somewhat. For instance, Athanasius included immortality and Augustine added an anthropological trinity, while Aquinas emphasized love as an imTherefore, God was required to make a new mingling, namely, Christ. See Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man, 79. 147 Gregory Nazianzen, Orations 2.17; Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man, 17. 148 Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man, 25. 149 Gregory Nazianzen, Orations 30.4, 40.6; cf. Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man, 26. 150 As quoted in Ellverson, The Dual Nature of Man, 26. 151 Watts, Nicolaus Cusanus, 114.

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portant similarity between the human and the divine. Still, the fundamental definition remains the same: the image of God is found in ratio et voluntas. 3. When turning to the question of how sin affected the image of God, more variation can be found in the answers. Some, like Athanasius and Augustine, were not very optimistic about the capacity of fallen human beings to know God rightly or to seek true fellowship with him. So far as these men were concerned, there was more ruin than remnant in the imago Dei after Adam and Eve transgressed God‟s original command. Yet others, like Irenaeus, Aquinas, and Scotus, presented a far more positive outlook. For them sin resulted in a regression, but not a devastation. In explaining their confidence in sinful humanity they typically employed a distinction between imago and similitudo. The latter, which consisted of original righteousness, was lost in the garden, but the former, which included a variety of innate capacities, was retained, also in the state of iniquity. In fact, although it is hard to say with certainty, generally speaking there appears to be a gradual, growing sense of optimism in the capabilities of sinful humanity as one scans through church history, starting with the ancient church fathers and moving forward to the scholastics of the medieval era. 4. Some challenging issues linger stubbornly throughout the centuries. A case in point is the question of how gender is connected to the image of God. Do women share in the imago Dei just as much as men do? The theologians do not shy away from the topic. However, even after centuries of discussing, debating, and interpreting, no definitive answer emerges. On the one hand, when the Cappadocian brothers examined Genesis 1, they were inclined to say that both male and female were made equally in the likeness of their Creator. On the other hand, when they turned to 1 Corinthians 11, they concluded that men somehow possess the image of God more directly and more independently than women. They were not alone in their struggle. Other great minds like Augustine, Abelard, and Aquinas wrestled with these same texts, but without achieving much more than the Cappadocian Fathers did. The stumbling block upon which nearly everyone tripped was 1 Corinthians 11:7. 5. More success and unanimity was evident in identifying the one who could, and would, restore the image which had been tarnished by sin. Not surprisingly, all the theologians of the church point to Christ, who is the express image of God. Differences arose, though, concerning the degree to which the Redeemer was needed. Some ancient church fathers, such as Irenaeus, and later theologians, such as Aqui-

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nas and Scotus, viewed Christ‟s role as one of redemptive assistance. After all, from their perspective, the imago was still more or less intact, but human beings needed some help in restoring the similitudo. Not everyone agreed with this point of view. For example, Augustine dismissed the imago-similitudo distinction. Therefore, he taught that, from commencement to consummation, Christ was the one who graciously restored, step-by-step, what sin had ruined. 6. From time to time genealogical records contain anomalies. That is to say, certain individuals appear, or events occur, which do not fit the excepted pattern. The history of the imago Dei doctrine also contains some unusual and unexpected developments. Amid the overwhelming consensus that the seat of the divine likeness is firmly located in the soul, there are a few voices – notably Origen, Augustine, and Aquinas – who suggest that the physical body might also be part of the image of God. There is also the tangential opinion of Chrysostom, namely, that imago equals dominium. 7. Finally, and perhaps most conspicuously, some theologians experiment with the idea of deification. For them, being created in the likeness of God generates the possibility, or perhaps even the potentiality, of actually becoming divine, at least in a human sort of way. Whenever the topic of theosis arises, clarity usually ebbs away. Language becomes fuzzy; concepts become vague. Yet it is noteworthy that though the desire to dabble in deification may be peripheral, it is nonetheless persistent.

3. The Imago Dei in the Writings of John Calvin

3.1 Approaches and Aims The challenge in the previous chapter was to see the proverbial forest for the trees. Twelve centuries of history and some twenty theologians were surveyed in order to discover how theological reflection on the imago Dei progressed during the patristic and medieval eras. In this present chapter that challenge diminishes but does not disappear. The analytic lens is now focused on a single man, namely, John Calvin. Furthermore, his writings on the image of God span only three decades, rather than twelve centuries. Nevertheless, during those thirty years he wrote regularly about the dignity conferred on human beings who were created in the likeness of their Creator. In fact, in almost every one of those thirty years he speaks about the image of God, be that in a catechism, a commentary, a sermon or even a letter.1 Therefore, also with respect to the Calvini opera, it remains a challenge to see, not only the individual firs, but also the overall forest. Obviously, the abovementioned difficulty could be resolved forthwith by restricting the range of investigation to the final edition of the Institutes. After all, concerning that particular publication, does not Calvin himself say that the 1559 Institutes hold “the principal and far most conspicuous place among all my lucubrations”?2 Therefore, it would seem that by analyzing the 1559 Institutes, the reformer‟s principal thoughts on the imago Dei should become evident.3 Another option would be to work through the successive editions of the Institutes, beginning in 1536 and ending in 1559. This would add some breadth to the scope of analysis, as well as offering some insight into the maturation of Calvin‟s thought.4 However, there is a deeper issue at stake here: should Calvin‟s thought be derived solely from his Institutes or should his other writings be consulted as well? T.H.L. Parker,5 J.H. Leith6 and R.A. Muller,7 inter alios,8 have all warned that 1 A quick glance over the documents catalogued in this chapter, as well as their dates of publication (see Table of Contents), indicates that there is never more than a gap of two years between the occasions on which Calvin refers to the image of God in his writings. 2 Letter to Count d‟Erbach, 1 July 1559, CO 17:578; cf. Calvin, Letters, 4.59. 3 Alasdair Heron takes this approach. He explains his rationale as follows: “In order to make the topic manageable within the confines of a short treatment while preserving the shape it has in Calvin‟s own handling of it, it seems best to concentrate on his systematic exposition of the imago Dei in the Institute of the Christian Religion I.XV.” See Heron, “Homo Peccator,” 33. 4 For this type of methodology see Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei. 5 T.H.L. Parker, Calvin‟s Preaching (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1992), vii.

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excessive or exclusive reliance on the Institutes can lead to a myopic view of Calvin‟s theology. In order to gain a sense of Calvin‟s own theological development concerning the imago Dei, we must spread our wings and fly beyond his Institutes, also exploring his treatises, catechisms, sermons, and letters. Each literary genre within the Calvini opera offers its own unique advantage. The Institutes is appreciated for its concise summaries of the various doctrinal loci, including the imago Dei. The catechisms do much the same, only in a more succinct and accessible fashion. Filled with polemical zeal, the treatises present a sharper focus on precisely what Calvin does, and does not, teach concerning the image of God. As he busies himself with the task of refuting his opponents, his own view is more clearly revealed, as well as constantly refined. The commentaries provide more elaborate explanations of particular passages. In his sermons, Calvin also exposits key verses regarding the similitude between the holy God and human beings, but he does this in a way that demonstrates how the imago Dei makes a difference in the daily lives of people.9 Finally, the letters in which Geneva‟s prolific correspondent refers to this doctrine should not be overlooked. Even though his sermons already draw a direct line from doctrine to life, the advantage of his letters is that they are less generic and more germane to the specific struggles of one particular individual or group of individuals. Therefore, by looking at the imago Dei in all the different genres within the Calvini opera, the reformer‟s teaching is viewed from a variety of angles, thereby making our understanding of it more well-rounded and nuanced.

6 John H. Leith, “Calvin‟s Doctrine of the Proclamation of the Word and Its Significance Today,” in John Calvin and the Church: A Prism of Reform, ed. Timothy George (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), 218–9. 7 Muller outlines fourteen “Premises for the Examination of Calvin‟s Theology.” The fourth is: “Calvin‟s theology cannot simply be read out of the Institutes”; the fifth is: “By extension, the Institutes is an incomplete source for the analysis of any particular doctrine taught by Calvin – even those doctrines that Calvin considered as specific topoi or loci in theology.” See Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin, 186. 8 Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence, 305; Elsie Anne McKee, “Exegesis, Theology, and Development in Calvin‟s Institutio: A Methodological Suggestion,” in Probing the Reformed Tradition: Historical Studies in Honor of Edward A. Dowey, Jr., ed. Elsie Anne McKee and Brian G. Armstrong (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1989), 168; Heiko A. Oberman, “The Pursuit of Happiness: Calvin Between Humanism and Reformation,” in Calvin As Exegete, ed. P. de Klerk (Grand Rapids: Calvin Studies Society, 1995), 21–2, 25. 9 See J. Faber, “Imago Dei in Calvin: Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man As the Image of God in Connection with Sin and Restoration,” in Essays in Reformed Doctrine, ed. Hans Boersema and Bill Wielenga (Neerlandia: Inheritance Publications, 1990), 247. This scholar notes that Calvin‟s sermons on Job are a helpful, even necessary, complement to his sermons on Genesis.

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Taking this a step farther, one possibility would be to arrange the analysis genre by genre. That is to say, one could begin by examining all the editions of the Institutes, as well as his catechisms, to distil Calvin‟s anthropology from the didactic component of his literary corpus. Next, the investigation could turn to the polemical portion of his writings. Thereafter, the research could present the exegetical and homiletical genres, finishing up with his epistolary works. Such an arrangement would be acceptable and beneficial. In fact, Calvin himself suggests that the reader move from his didactic works, like the Institutes, into his exegetical endeavours, such as his commentaries.10 However, as Richard Muller observes, the case is not quite as simple as that. There are numerous occasions in which Calvin‟s exegetical work served as the foundation for changes that he incorporated into later editions of his Institutes.11 Furthermore, there is no particular, valid reason why one genre should be accorded supremacy over the others.12 In other words, the relation between the various genres within the Calvini opera is more symbiotic than it is hierarchical. Added to that, Richard Stauffer‟s question – namely, whether or not Calvin‟s anthropology is actually coherent – still lingers in the air.13 The best way to address that question is to work chronologically through the texts, taking note along the way of how Calvin‟s teaching on the image of God changes, develops, or contradicts itself. Therefore, all things considered, the balance of benefit appears to tip in the direction of a comprehensive,14 yet chronological, organization of the material. In addition to providing a well-rounded and nuanced understanding of Calvin‟s anthropology, one might even say this arrangement offers a three-dimensional perspective. Looking at Calvin‟s writings from the earliest to the latest ensures chronological length to the picture. Examining the different genres provides literary width. And the letters, which address both commoners and nobility, add some societal depth to the portrait. Accordingly, the aim of this chapter will be five-fold. In the first place, the goal will be to walk along, chronologically, with Calvin and collect his 10 Calvin, Institutes, 4–5. In his preface, Calvin writes, “If, after this road [= the sum of religion in the Institutes] has, as it were, been paved, I shall publish any interpretations of Scripture, I shall always condense them, because I shall have no need to undertake long doctrinal discussions, and to digress into common places. In this way the godly reader will be spared great annoyance and boredom, provided he approach Scripture armed with a knowledge of the present work, as a necessary tool.” 11 Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin, 157–58. 12 Muller, The Unaccommodated Calvin, 182. 13 Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence, 201. 14 Although this study aims to be comprehensive in its investigation of the primary sources, it does not claim to be exhaustive. The sheer size of the Calvini opera forces the researcher to restrict the scope of his enquiry.

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primary teachings on the imago Dei. As needed, due consideration will be given to literary genre, as well as historical and polemical contexts. Second, attention will be given to the development of Calvin‟s theology. The pertinent question is: as he matures, does his anthropology steadily improve or slowly devolve into incoherence? Third, if there are any defining moments in Calvin‟s reflection on the image of God – be that a significant exegetical breakthrough or a particularly fiery debate – such milestones should be identified. In the fourth place, it should be possible to acquire at least an initial impression of how pessimistic or optimistic Calvin actually is concerning the capacities and abilities of human nature. Finally, utilizing the synopsis of the previous chapter, it will become evident whether or not Calvin stands in line with patristic and medieval teachings on the imago Dei. As we perambulate through the corpus of Calvin‟s writings, our journey will be sub-divided into three sections: “Laying the Foundations” (1534– 1542), “Building, Elaborating, and Improving” (1543–1558), and “Finishing Touches” (1559–1564). Admittedly the parameters of these sections are somewhat arbitrary. After all, who is to say whether the foundation of Calvin‟s teaching on the imago Dei was laid by 1539 or 1542? Nevertheless, there is at least some justification for the proposed division. The first eight years are dominated by didactic material: two editions of the Institutes (1536, 1539) and two catechisms (1537, 1542). By its very nature pedagogical material usually has a rudimentary or foundational character to it. The next fifteen years are filled with the publication of many commentaries and sermons, which allowed Calvin to explore pertinent Scripture passages on the image of God, and subsequently to expand and improve his understanding of this doctrine. During this same time period he writes three important polemical treatises, which also serve to refine his own teaching: Bondage and Liberation of the Will (1543), Against the Anabaptists (1544), and Against the Libertines (1545). Lastly, the final five years give an opportunity for culmination and summation. Not only are his final Institutes published, but his sermon series on Genesis also appears. Hence, even though other divisions of Calvin‟s theological career could be entertained,15 the three-phase option adopted here will suffice for now.

15 For example see Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei. He uses the successive editions of the Institutes (1536, 1539, 1543, 1550, and 1559) as temporal boundary markers in Calvin‟s development of the doctrine of the imago Dei.

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3.2 Laying the Foundations: 1534–1542 3.2.1 Psychopannychia (1534) Surprisingly enough, Calvin‟s first theological treatise deals with the topic of souls falling asleep after death. As he explains in the preface to his unnamed friend, the Anabaptists in France were broadcasting this seemingly obscure doctrine. In fact, as time went on, Calvin became increasingly concerned with this movement, since some were teaching not merely the sleep of the soul after the death, but the death of the soul at death. Accordingly, he names them psychoktonoi.16 Moreover, to those who suspect that Calvin is majoring on minors in this treatise, the reformer himself answers: “It is certainly no trivial matter to see God‟s light extinguished by the devil‟s darkness; and besides, this matter is of greater moment than many suppose.”17 However, there is a historical challenge associated with this particular document. It is clear from the original preface that Calvin wrote the initial draft in 1534 while he was in Orléans. Two years later, in Basel, he wrote another version of this treatise, adding, deleting, and modifying as he saw fit.18 To make matters even more complicated, the first printed edition of this writing did not appear until 1542, when it was published in Strasburg under the title, Vivere apud Christum non dormire animis sanctos, qui in fide Christi decedunt.19 Moreover, it was not until 1545, when it was reprinted in Geneva, that it received the title by which it is known today, namely, Psychopannychia.20 Taking into account this less than straightforward publication history, the conclusions we draw from this document must be chronologically conditioned. That is to say, they may represent Calvin‟s thinking in 1534, or 1536, or 1542, if he edited the document again before sending it to the printers. With the above proviso in place, it is still worthwhile to note that the doctrine of the image of God constitutes a key element in Calvin‟s rejection of the teachings of soul-sleepers and soul-killers. Calvin argues that the This Greek word means “soul-murderers.” CO 5:175–176; John Calvin, Calvin‟s Tracts, trans. Henry Beveridge (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2002), 3:418. 18 Calvin comments on his revision process in a letter to Christopher Fabri on 11 September 1535. See CO 10b:51, 52; Calvin, Letters, 1:42–3. 19 CO 5:165. 20 For further details on the writing and publication history of the Psychopannychia, see Willem Balke, Calvin and the Anabaptist Radicals, trans. William J. Heynen (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981), 25–8; Wulfret de Greef, The Writings of John Calvin: An Introductory Guide, trans. Lyle D. Bierma (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1993), 165–67; George H. Tavard, The Starting Point of Calvin‟s Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 1–2. 16 17

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image of God shines forth exclusively in the human soul, not the human body. 21 God is spirit; therefore, only that which is spiritual, namely the soul, can properly reflect the likeness of God. Moreover, not only is God spirit, he is immortal. Thus, ultimately, the soul-killers are doing an injustice to God when they say that the soul is destroyed at death, given that, at least by implication, they are also suggesting that God himself is mortal. On the contrary, Calvin argues that since a divinely ordained bond of likeness exists between God and human beings, it follows that the image of an immortal God is reflected in the immorality of the human soul. 22 At the same time, the imago Dei includes more than a reflection of divine immortality. Drawing from New Testament passages such as Ephesians 4 and Colossians 3, Calvin becomes more specific when he writes, “that man, in respect of spirit, was made partaker of the wisdom, justice, and goodness of God.”23 This, in short, forms a core element in Calvin‟s understanding of the imago Dei. Human beings were created to resemble and reflect many of the excellent attributes of God. One thing which does not form part of the imago Dei, though, is man‟s dominion over creation.24 According to Calvin, this was an error originally committed by Chrysostom. While Calvin concurs with Chrysostom‟s denunciation of the Anthropomorphites, who attributed creaturely characteristics to God, Geneva‟s reformer also finds that Chrysostom stumbled off the right path when he regarded dominion over creation as the central component of the imago Dei. For Calvin the image resides in the souls which God gave to humans, not in the instructions he spoke to them. In this treatise Calvin vigorously defends the unique dignity which the Creator bestowed upon human beings. Often Calvin is portrayed as having a low, or even pessimistic, view of humans.25 However, such a general characterization needs to be qualified. First of all, much depends on whether he is speaking about the state of human beings at creation, or their state after the fall. If it is the former, then Calvin was as zealous as any other theologian in extolling the most excellent endowments which God originally gave to Adam and Eve. Second, the polemical context of Calvin‟s comments ought to be given due consideration. When he is dismissing the synergistic, semi-Pelagian optimism of the papal theologians, he speaks, in no uncertain terms, about the total depravity of human beings. At the same 21

CO 5:177–182; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3: 419–25. CO 5:181–182; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:424. Interestingly enough, Calvin also uses apocryphal passages such Ecclesiasticus 17:1 and Wisdom 2:23 to support his position, although he does note that their authority is that of “ancient pious writers” rather than “canonical.” 23 CO 5:181; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:424. 24 CO 5:181; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:423. 25 Hesselink, Calvin‟s First Catechism, 61. 22

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time, his polemics with the radical reformers reveal another side of his dogmatic convictions. In the Psychopannychia he has little patience for Anabaptists who say that the human soul is nothing more than the life-force within the body. If that were the case, there would hardly be any distinction between animals and human beings.26 In response to this degradation of the human race, Calvin defends, in unequivocal terms, the unique dignity of human beings which is “highly celebrated”27 in the Scriptures. This side of Calvin‟s teaching ought to receive more attention.

3.2.2 Épître à tous amateurs de Iésus Christ (1535) John Calvin‟s Épître à tous amateurs is a valuable source of information concerning the early theology of Geneva‟s reformer.28 Indeed, it has been seen as a prototype for the first edition of the Institutes, which was published one year later.29 This preface to Olivétan‟s translation of the New Testament immediately begins with God‟s creation of human beings, who are “a masterpiece in which one could view a unique excellence.”30 Since they were created in God‟s image, the brilliance of nothing less than divine glory shone ever so clearly in them.31 Once again, it is striking how positive Calvin is about Adam and Eve. Superlatives are heaped upon each other in an effort to do justice to the magnificence with which they were originally created. Sadly, Adam and Eve soon forgot the true Source of their shining splendour and sought to be something in and of themselves. Calvin describes the consequences of their ingratitude as follows: Therefore, God also began to hate him, and – just as he well deserved – to disown him for his deed, seeing that his image and likeness had become effaced and the gifts 26

CO 5:181–182; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:423–4. CO 5:181; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:423. 28 de Greef, Writings of John Calvin, 90–2. Doubt has been cast on Calvin‟s authorship of the Épître à tous amateurs by van Stam, “Vorworts zur Olivétan-Bibel,” 267, who concludes that Olivetan was the original author of the preface. However, in his most recent study of the early life of Calvin, Wilhelm Neuser states that the evidence clearly points to Calvin as the author. He sums it up as follows: “Über die Autorenschaft Calvins kann also kein Zweifel bestehen”; Wilhelm H. Neuser, Johann Calvin: Leben und Werk in seiner Frühzeit 1509-1541 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2009), 175. See also Wilhelm H. Neuser, “The First Outline of Calvin‟s Theology: The Preface to the New Testament in the Olivetan Bible of 1535,” Koers 66, no. 1&2 (2001). 29 Irena Backus and Claire Chimelli, La vraie piété: Divers traités de Jean Calvin et Confession de foi de Guillaume Farel (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1986), 18. The original text of this letter is not found in the Calvini opera. However, it is now readily available in the aforementioned publication. All translations from the Épître are my own. 30 Calvin, Épître, 25. 31 Calvin, Épître, 25. 27

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of his goodness had been tossed aside. And just as God had set and ordained him so that he might take delight and pleasure in him, as a father [takes delight] in his very dear child, so now, to the contrary, he held him in contempt, such that all that had pleased him beforehand, now displeased him, that which had delighted him, now irritated him, that which he had viewed with a benign and fatherly eye, he now detested and looked at with regret. In short, the whole, entire man, with his faculties, his deeds, his thoughts, his words, his life became totally displeasing to God, as if he had become his special enemy and adversary, to the point that it is said that God was sorry that he had made him.32

It is noteworthy that the Father-child analogy is an integral part of Calvin‟s explanation. The effacing of the imago Dei does not only involve a holy Creator who becomes angry with one of his rebellious creatures, but it also includes a heavenly Father who, with deep regret, is terribly displeased with the dear child in whom he had once delighted. Beloved posterity has become brash adversary; that is the tragedy of the fall into sin. Therefore, the created likeness between God and human beings is not merely a likeness such as an artist might produce when he paints a resemblance of someone upon the canvas resting on his easel. Rather, it is the likeness of which we speak when we say, “That young woman is a trustworthy individual just like her father is.” Furthermore, at this early point in his theological development, Calvin does not hesitate to say that the imago Dei has been “effaced.”33 However, what precisely does he mean by this? The context makes it clear that Adam lost his dignity, not his humanity. He writes, “He [Adam] lost all the dignity and excellence of his original creation, he was deprived and stripped of all his glory, he was alienated from the gifts which had been given to him in order to confound him in his pride.”34 Thus, the Creator also used this effacing – as total and tragic as it was – for a constructive goal, namely, erasing the perverse pride which had led Adam and Eve to rebel against God‟s command in the first place.

3.2.3 Christinae religionis institutio (1536) Calvin penned the first edition of his Institutes of the Christian Religion with a two-fold purpose in mind. He began writing this work “solely to transmit certain rudiments by which those who are touched with any zeal of religion might be shaped to godliness […] especially for our French coun-

32

Calvin, Épître, 25–6. Concerning the last phrase of this quotation see Gen 6:7. Fr. effaces. 34 Calvin, Épître, 25. 33

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trymen.”35 Yet in the course of composing it, he came to realize that it might also be worthwhile to use this document as a testimony to King Francis I, indicating how he and his fellow evangelicals in France were being “unjustly charged […] with intentions of a sort such as we have never even given the least suspicion.”36 In this catechetical apologia, if one may call it that, the doctrine of the image of God receives prominent attention already in the second paragraph. This is similar to the Épître à tous amateurs where it is also mentioned without delay at the beginning of the preface. In the 1536 Institutes Calvin writes: In order for us to come to a sure knowledge of ourselves, we must first grasp the fact that Adam, parent of us all, was created in the image and likeness of God [Gen. 1:26– 27]. That is, he was endowed with wisdom, righteousness, holiness, and was so clinging by these gifts of grace to God that he could have lived forever in Him, if he had stood fast in the uprightness God had given him.37

The above quotation must be connected to what he says just prior to it. In the first paragraph he writes that to know God rightly is to know that “he is infinite wisdom, righteousness, goodness, mercy truth, power, and life.”38 A comparison of these two quotations readily reveals how the imago Dei functions in the reformer‟s thinking. God is infinite wisdom, righteousness, goodness, mercy, truth, power, and life. At creation human beings reflected this same basic list of attributes,39 since they are similarly endowed with wisdom, righteousness, and holiness. There are, of course, crucial differences as well. While God‟s attributes are infinite, the same attributes in humans are only finite, and while God possesses these things in and of himself, humans receive them as a gift. At the same time, a gift can be lost if it is not used properly. According to Calvin, when Eve and Adam sinned, “this image of God was cancelled and effaced.”40 This means that “man was stripped and deprived of all wisdom, righteousness, power [and] life” and instead “nothing was left to him save ignorance, iniquity, impotence, death, and judgement.”41 In other words, as a result of the fall the similitude has been shattered. Most assur35 CO 1:9; John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion 1536 Ed., trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 1. 36 CO 1:25; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 1,13. 37 CO 1:27–28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 15. 38 CO 1:27; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 15. 39 There is some difference between the lists, both in length and content, but this is more stylistic than substantial. Throughout Calvin‟s writing on the imago Dei, this list is presented in various renditions, indicating his flexibility on this matter. 40 CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16. Lat. inducta et obliterata est. 41 CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16.

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edly there is no ignorance, iniquity, inability, or death in God; however, since these attributes now reside in humanity post lapsum, the link of likeness between God and human beings has been broken. At the same time, Calvin anticipates that some may object to his stark language. Therefore, he goes on to acknowledge that of themselves sinful human beings can still put on a “dazzling appearance of holiness.” 42 However, even if this apparent holiness may impress some fellow human beings, it does not pass the test of God‟s judgment. God “judges not according to appearance […] but gazes upon the secrets of the heart.”43 In saying this, Calvin makes a fundamental distinction, namely, between how a person appears coram hominibus and coram Deo. For instance, unregenerate human beings may seek to live their lives in a just and morally upright way. Thus, it might be asked: do these laudable aspirations not reflect – at least to some degree – the holiness and justice of God? Calvin‟s answer to this question can be summed up as follows: viewed from the perspective of human eyes there may appear to be some lingering likeness between God and human beings after the fall, but when God looks upon the human race with his own divine eyes, he beholds “an abomination […] since the thoughts of the mind, ever depraved and corrupted, lurk beneath.”44 Still, this corruption does not exempt humans from their ongoing responsibility to reflect the divine attributes of benevolence and justice in their attitudes and actions. This is particularly true for civil authorities who “should watch with all care, earnestness, and diligence, to present in themselves to men some image of divine providence, protection, goodness, benevolence, and justice.”45 Indeed, it is a “great disgrace” when citizens “discern no appearance of the image of God which ought to have shone in the magistrate.”46 However, something seems amiss here. On the one hand, Calvin has said that the imago Dei is effaced by the fall, while, on other hand, he contends that it should still remain, and even radiate, from all earthly governors. This apparent contradiction receives no clear resolution here in the first edition of the Institutes. In addition to the distinction between coram hominibus and coram Deo, Calvin brings forward another one: the differentiation between the realm of political or earthly things and the realm of spiritual things. He writes: Let us consider that there is a twofold government in man: one aspect is spiritual, whereby the conscience is instructed in piety and in reverencing God; the second is

42

CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16. CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16. 44 CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16. 45 CO 1:231; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 210. 46 CO 1:243; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 221. 43

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political, whereby man is educated for the duties of humanity and civil life that must be maintained among men.47

Other theologians refer to these two aspects as spiritual and temporal, and Calvin has no difficulty adopting that terminology either.48 Since the political realm can also be called temporal it is obvious that Geneva‟s reformer uses the term political49 in a wider sense than what is customary in modern usage. For him political refers to “the concerns of the present life – not only with food and clothing but with laying down laws whereby a man may live his life among other men honourably, and temperately.”50 Evidently this two-fold distinction is crucial to the broader scope of Calvin‟s theological reflection because he uses the entire last chapter of his 1536 Institutes to discuss it. Along with other reformers, he ardently rejects the manner in which the papacy had “invaded”51 the spiritual realm of eternal hope with their long list of man-made, and therefore earthly, requirements for salvation. At the same time, he also wants to distance himself from some radical reformers who not only declared freedom from the decrees of the pope in the spiritual realm, but who also declared freedom from the laws of civil rulers in the earthly realm. Calvin has no patience whatsoever for this kind of mingling of the two realms. He declares: But whoever knows how to distinguish between body and soul, between this present fleeting life and that future eternal life, will without difficulty know that Christ‟s spiritual Kingdom and the civil jurisdiction are things completely different. 52

In the first edition of his Institutes, Calvin applies this distinction within the context of discussing “Christian Freedom, Ecclesiastical Power, and Political Administration” which is the title of his sixth chapter. As we hope to see, over time he also uses this distinction in other areas, including the doctrine of the imago Dei.

47

CO 1:204; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 184. CO 1:204; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 184; Shu-Ying Shih alters this terminology slightly and discerns a temporal versus eschatological orientation in the Institutes. See Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 13–4. However, substituting eschatological for spiritual or eternal runs the risk of importing things from the 21 st century which Calvin himself did not intend in the 16 th century. For example, the term eschatological might unintentionally introduce elements from the consistent eschatology of Albert Schweitzer or the realized eschatology of C.H. Dodd or even the inaugurated eschatology of J.A.T. Robinson. Cf. EDT s.v. “Eschatology.” 49 Consciously or unconsciously, Calvin may be working with Greek adjective πολῑτῐκός which means not only “belonging to the state or its administration” but also “living in community” and “suited to a citizen‟s common life, ordinary.” See the appropriate entry in H. G. Liddell et al., A Greek-English Lexicon (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996). 50 CO 1:204; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 184. 51 CO 1:204; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 184. 52 CO 1:228; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 207ff. 48

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3.2.4 Instruction et confession de foy (1537) After being convinced to stay in Geneva, John Calvin, along with William Farel and Elie Coraud, presented their Articles concernant l‟organisation de l‟église et du culte à Genève to the city council on 16 January 1537. One of the articles called for the youth of the city to be instructed in the rudiments of Christian doctrine. Accordingly, about a month later, the Instruction et confession de foy appeared; a Latin version of this catechism followed shortly thereafter in 1538.53 There are some differences between the French and Latin editions; however, concerning the image of God those differences are neither substantial nor significant. Not surprisingly, Calvin‟s first catechism contains numerous statements that are strongly reminiscent of the first edition of his Institutes. After all, their respective publication dates are only one year apart. Nevertheless, concerning the creation of human beings, Calvin adds one significant aspect: the goal or telos of the imago Dei. The fourth paragraph of the catechism reads: At first man was formed in the image and resemblance of God in order that man might admire his Author in the adornments with which he had been nobly vested by God and honor him with proper acknowledgement.54

In this way the 1537 Catechism underlines that it is not merely the what of the imago Dei which is worthy of attention, but also the unto what. Gifts are usually given with a certain purpose in mind, and that is certainly the case with the gift of the imago Dei. God intended human beings to use their excellent endowments – such as wisdom, righteousness, and holiness – in order to both admire and honor him, the generous Giver. However, this is precisely what Adam and Eve did not do when they gave into Satan‟s allurements. They strove to raise themselves up “apart from the Lord,”55 and in so doing they exhibited self-aggrandizing arrogance rather than God-admiring gratitude. Consequently, as he does in both the Épître and the 1536 Institutes, Calvin employs strong and stark language about the fall‟s effect on the imago Dei. He says that it has been “effaced”56 not only because the original contents of the imago Dei (i.e., the what) have been stripped away, but also, and perhaps even especially, because the original telos of the image (i.e., the unto what) has now been 53 For more on the 1537 (French) and 1538 (Latin) editions of Calvin‟s first catechism see: de Greef, Writings of John Calvin, 122–6. 54 CO 22:36; John Calvin, Instruction in Faith (1537), trans. Paul Fuhrmann (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1992), 24; emphasis mine. 55 CO 22:36; Calvin, Instruction in Faith, 25. 56 CO 22:36, Fr. esfacee; CO 5.325, Lat. obliterate; Calvin, Instruction in Faith, 25.

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completely warped in the wrong direction. Thus, even if some external, “dazzling appearance of holiness”57 still remains after the fall, the very fact that sinful human beings do not use this for the original, intended purpose of honouring God is proof positive for Calvin that the image has indeed been effaced.

3.2.5 Institutio christianae religionis (1539) Three years after its initial appearance, Calvin published the second edition of his Institutes, first in Latin, and then two years after that, in 1541, also in French. Although his treatment of the imago Dei in the second edition has much in common with the first edition, there are a few additions which merit consideration. In the second edition, Calvin defines the image of God as a participation in divine attributes such as wisdom, justice, and integrity.58 He continues by saying that the imago Dei should not be identified with Adam‟s dominion over the animals. This is a point which he also makes in his Psychopannychia,59 but due to the protracted publication timeline of that document, it is difficult to ascertain where the rejection of Chrysostom‟s opinion first appeared: in the Psychopannychia or in the second edition of the Institutes. Be that as it may, in the 1539 Institutes Calvin leans heavily on a litany of New Testament passages to defend his definition of the imago Dei, referring to Eph 4:3, Col 3:9 and 2 Cor 3:18. This approach of interpreting Gen 1:26–27 through the lens of the Pauline Epistles is also found in the Psychopannychia.60 In 1539 Calvin also emphasizes more strongly that Adam and Eve not only lost the splendid gifts that they had been given, such as wisdom, holiness, and justice, but that they also alienated themselves from God, who is the Author and Origin of those gifts. In short, whereas the 1536 Institutes highlights the gifts given to humans at creation, the 1539 Institutes focuses more sharply on the Giver himself. This emphasis, too, is not entirely new, for it was an integral part of what Calvin wrote in the Épître.61

57

CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16. Calvin describes Adam as a participem (CO 1:307) of divine attributes. It is clear that he does not mean that Adam, or anyone else, somehow partakes in the divine essence. In fact, he spoke out adamantly against those who proposed any sort of ontological fusion of the divine and the human. For example, Calvin reacted vigorously against Libertines, such as Quintin, who inclined in that direction. See Calvin, Against Anabaptists & Libertines, 238–41. 59 CO 5:181–182; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:423–4. 60 CO 5:181; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:424. 61 Calvin, Épître, 25–6. 58

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At the same time, the second edition of the Institutes introduces at least one new element. Not only were Adam and Eve created in the image of God, but their children were also born in the likeness of their human parents. Presumably, if Adam and Eve had not fallen into sin, then their son Seth would have participated in divine justice, holiness, and wisdom to the same degree that his parents did. Sadly, the first parents did sin, and therefore all their posterity suffers from “ignorance, impotence, vanity, and injustice” since “they carried the image of him from whom they originated [i.e., Adam] and they were born contaminated by the pollution of their parents.”62 Although Calvin does not mention it explicitly here, he appears to be working with Gen 5:1–3, which indicates that the imago relationship exists not only between God, the heavenly Father, and his children, Adam and Eve, but also between Adam, the earthly father, and his son, Seth.

3.2.6 Commentarii in Epistolam ad Romanos (1540) To this point, mainly the status originalis and the condition post lapsum have been discussed, yet what can be said of the restoration of imago Dei in Jesus Christ? This is something that Calvin takes up in his exegesis of Rom 8:29. However, before coming to that particular verse, it is essential to take note of his earlier commentary on Rom 8:17 in which he adduces that the Apostle Paul “proves that our salvation consists in having God as our Father.”63 It is remarkable that Calvin opts for the term “consists”64 rather than, for instance, “includes.” By so doing, he indicates that the Father-children relationship between God and believers in Christ is more than just an aspect of salvation. It is, in fact, the essence of redemption. This strikingly close connection between salvation and adoption resurfaces in Calvin‟s comments on the restoration of the imago Dei in Rom 8:29. He writes: God has so determined that all whom he has adopted should bear the image of Christ; nor has he [Paul] simply said, that they were to be conformed to Christ, but to the image of Christ, that he might teach us that there is in Christ a living and conspicuous exemplar, which is exhibited to God‟s children for imitation. The meaning, then is, that gratuitous adoption, in which our salvation consists, is inseparable from the

62

CO 1:308; translation mine. CO 49:150; John Calvin, Calvin‟s Commentaries (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1996), 19:301. 64 CO 49:150, Lat. constare with the preposition in. 63

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other decree, which determines that we are to bear the cross; for no one can be an heir of heaven without being conformed to the image of the only-begotten Son of God.65

Two important insights are gained from the above passage. First of all, the restoration of the imago Dei is to be understood within the context of God‟s gracious adoption of sinners through his only-begotten Son. In short, being restored in the imago Christi involves becoming filii Dei. Second, the restoration of the image also involves, in a certain sense, an expansion of the image. As Calvin explicitly states, being restored in the image of Christ cannot be separated from bearing the cross (i.e., suffering while innocent).66 It goes without saying that willingness to bear the cross was not part of the original imago Dei in the garden of Eden. Suffering and sin were not part of paradise. Yet for Calvin, the reflection of divine likeness which Christ restores in God‟s children is not merely a reconstruction of what was once shattered. Since the renewed similitude is now focused on Christ, the Son of God, it also begins to reflect something new, namely, the willingness to endure present sufferings in anticipation of future glory. 3.2.7 Le Catéchisme de l‟église de Genève (1542) In 1542 Calvin undertook a major rewriting of his first Catechism. Although no copy of the original French edition survives, the Latin translation of 1545 is extant.67 Henry Beveridge is correct in stating that this revision “differed very much both in substance and arrangement”68 from the 1537 Catechism. Calvin himself preferred his later work.69 To be sure, the new question and answer format, the more thorough explanations, and the positioning of the Apostles‟ Creed before the Ten Commandments can be considered improvements. However, concerning the imago Dei, it is questionable whether the 1542 Catechism truly represents an advance over the 1537 version. The 1542 Catechism does not contain any explicit explanation of what it means that human beings were created in the image of God or how the fall into sin affected the image. Instead, all that is carried through from the first edition of the Catechism is the reformer‟s emphasis, now even stronger, that the chief end of humankind is to know and glorify God. Calvin‟s motivation for dropping his earlier, more detailed treatment of the imago Dei remains a mystery. What this revision of his Catechism does 65

CO 49:160; Calvin, Commentaries, 19:318; emphasis mine. CO 49:150; Calvin, Commentaries, 19:301. There he writes that we must “patiently bear whatever troubles may press on us in this life.” 67 de Greef, Writings of John Calvin, 133. 68 Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, vii. 69 CO 6:7–8; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 36. 66

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highlight, though, is the substantial significance which he attaches to the telos of the imago Dei.70

3.3 Building, Expanding, and Improving: 1543–1558 3.3.1 Institutio christianae religionis (1543) The third edition of the Institutes appeared first in Latin (1543) and thereafter in French (1545). For the most part the third edition is an expansion of the second, with Calvin adding four more chapters: a new chapter on monasticism, one chapter expanding his discussion of the Apostles‟ Creed, another adding to his explanation of ecclesiology, and finally, new material on the scriptural foundation of the ecclesiastical offices.71 Hardly anything of significance is changed in Calvin‟s treatment of the imago Dei. Therefore, for our present purpose, there is no need to explore this edition of the Institutes in more detail.72

3.3.2 De servitute et liberatione humani arbitrii (1543) In 1542 Albert Pighius, the papal provost of Utrecht, published his Ten Books on Human Free Choice and Divine Grace. In this verbose tome he aims his rhetorical cannon squarely at Geneva‟s reformer and alleges that if Calvin‟s statements on the bondage of the human will are allowed to stand, then “human beings are turned into brute beasts.”73 In his published response, The Bondage and Liberation of the Will, Calvin does not deny that in their sinfulness human beings can at times act in a rather beastly manner, yet he ardently maintains that human beings still remain human after the 70

CO 6:9-10; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 38. de Greef, Writings of John Calvin, 200. 72 Shu-Ying Shih discerns a shift in Calvin‟s thinking between the second and third editions. In his words, “it displays a switch in Calvin‟s understanding of the imago dei from being „a reflection of the glory of God‟ to „the soundness of the soul.‟ In using the concept of the soundness of the soul, Calvin‟s understanding of the imago dei appears to have taken a step toward a more anthropological orientation, namely toward focusing on the restoration of human nature. Previously, Calvin‟s understanding of the imago dei, as we have it within the imago-descriptions, was expressed more in terms of a relation to God.” Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 125– 6. However, at best the evidence might suggest a slightly different emphasis, rather than any shift in orientation. 73 As quoted by Calvin in CO 6:257; John Calvin, The Bondage and Liberation of the Will: A Defence of the Orthodox Doctrine of Human Choice Against Pighius, ed. A.N.S. Lane, trans. G.I. Davies (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1996), 38. 71

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fall. They do not become animals since, to mention but one thing, they still possess a human will. As he explains: For in relation to the present issue, following Bernard [of Clairvaux] I proposed three things for consideration: to will per se, that is, simply to will; then to will badly; and [to will] well […]. Having defined these three things, I had taught that the will is perpetually resident in our nature, that the evil condition of the will results from the corruption of that nature, and that by the regeneration of the Spirit the evil condition is corrected and in that way the will is made good instead of evil.74

Calvin‟s polemics with Pighius also afforded him an opportunity to provide a more nuanced explanation of the relationship between divine sovereignty and human responsibility. On the one hand, human beings cannot contribute anything of merit toward their salvation. Yet, on the other hand, God does not drag people, kicking and screaming as it were, into salvation, or for that matter into sin. He goes on to elaborate: It is appropriate to note how the following four [claims] differ from one another: namely that the will is free, bound, self-determined, or coerced. People generally understand a free will to be one which has it in its power to choose good or evil, and Pighius also defines it in this way. There can be no such thing as a coerced will, since the two ideas are contradictory […]. We describe [as coerced] the will which does not incline this way or that of its own accord or by an internal movement of decision, but is forcibly driven by an external impulse. We say that it is self-determined when of itself it directs itself in the direction in which it is led, when it is not taken by force or dragged unwillingly. A bound will, finally, is one which because of its corruptness is held captive under the authority of evil desires, so that it can choose nothing but evil, even if it does so of its own accord and gladly, without being driven by any external impulse.75

Thereafter Calvin confirms that he adheres to the teaching of a bound will, not a coerced will.76 Moreover, since God‟s grace and Spirit do not work by external coercion but rather by causing an internal change in the will itself, the regenerate experience salvation as a voluntary liberation and not a forced exodus.77 Furthermore, in line with his stance in the 1536 Institutes, Calvin again insists that a clear distinction must be made between the realm of the earthly things and the realm of the spiritual things. He does this while referring to Philip Melanchthon. Melanchthon, the principal architect of the Augsburg Confession, maintains that in the realm of earthly things the unregenerate human will can aspire to admittedly admirable goals such as 74

CO 6:378; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 209. Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 69. 76 Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 69–70. 77 Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 163–4, 174. 75

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maintaining civil order and promoting harmonious friendships. Yet this does not mean, in any way, that the same unregenerate will can, of itself, begin aspiring toward eternal salvation, for that belongs to the realm of spiritual things.78 Moreover, Calvin informs his readers that on all essential points concerning the human will there is “no difference” between Melanchthon and himself.79 Strictly speaking, Calvin‟s polemic against Pighius is not about the imago Dei. It is about the human will. Nevertheless, already in his first Catechism, Calvin singles out the intellect and the will as the two main faculties of the soul.80 Moreover, since the seat of the image is in the human soul, the will has much to do with the image of God. Consequently, it is noteworthy that here in 1543 Calvin begins to apply the distinction between earthly and heavenly realms to the doctrine of the imago Dei, or at least to an aspect of that dogma. Pighius assumes that since fallen human beings are still able to accomplish many decent things within the realm of earthly things, they must also be able to accomplish at least something worthwhile toward their salvation within the realm of spiritual things. In other words, he agrees with the well-known scholastic dictum: facienti quod in se est non denegat gratiam; that is, God will not deny his grace to those who, from their side, do as much as they are able.81 However, as Calvin is keen to point out, for the preservation of orthodoxy a distinction between earthly and spiritual things must be maintained.82 Although human beings can accomplish some good in the earthly realm, this does not necessarily mean that they can also attain to such success in the heavenly realm. Indeed, quite the opposite is true.

3.3.3 Contre la secte commune des Anabaptistes (1544) A little more than a year after Calvin endured the ire of Utrecht‟s archdeacon, Geneva‟s reformer had to dash off to another contest. This time he contended with the Anabaptists, the same opponents he engaged when he wrote the Psychopannychia. Nothing much had changed during the decade that had transpired. Numerous radical reformers were still roaming about France broadcasting their doctrine of the death of the soul at death. Conse78

Article 18 of the Augsburg Confession as found in Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert, eds., The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000), 51–3. 79 CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 29. 80 CO 22:36; Calvin, Instruction in Faith, 25. 81 Cf. Melles, Albertus Pighius, 195. 82 CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 29.

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quently, for the second time, but now with even more urgency, Calvin insists that there is an essential difference between the souls of human beings, who are created in the image of God, and the souls of animals which are not.83 In this regard it is all the more apparent that when Pighius accused Calvin of turning human beings into brute beasts, the Dutch archdeacon was definitely mistaken. Faced with Anabaptist opponents who did, in fact, teach that both human and animal souls are headed for the same destiny at death, Calvin responds briskly in defence of human dignity. He asserts: It is true that Moses adds next (Gen. 2:7) that “man was made a living soul” – something he also says of the beasts. But in order to denote a special excellence, he says that God “breathed the power of life into his body,” which he had formed from the earth. Therefore, although the human soul may have qualities in common with those of the beasts, nonetheless, because it carries the “image” and “likeness” of God, it is indeed of a different condition. Also, because its origin is different, the soul‟s preeminence is different, which is what Solomon means when he says that at death “the body returns to the earth, from whence it came, and the soul returns to God, who gave it” (Eccles. 12:7).84

The context here is crucial. Calvin is defending his conviction that the souls of sinners remain alive after the body succumbs to death. True enough, he makes his apology by returning to the original creation of the soul in paradise. Nevertheless, he is using this to explain what happens to souls after death, which was brought into the world through sin. Within this post lapsum context, he lauds the “special excellence” and “pre-eminence”85 of the human soul vis-à-vis the souls of animals. Thus, careful attention to the point of comparison is of utmost importance in understanding Calvin‟s anthropology. If Calvin is busy comparing the present, fallen state of the soul to the original, pristine state in paradise, then the dark and sombre language of corruption, ignorance, and perversity prevails. However, if he is comparing the human soul to the souls of animals, then his language is anything but dark and sombre; on the contrary, he extols the superiority of human beings with exuberant superlatives.

83

CO 7:112; Calvin, Against Anabaptists & Libertines, 120–1. CO 7:112; Calvin, Against Anabaptists & Libertines, 121. 85 CO 7.112, Fr. une excellence specialle and preeminence. 84

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3.3.4 Contre la secte des Libertins (1545) Similarly, in the companion treatise, Against the Libertines, Calvin forcefully rejects the fatalistic determinism of Anthony Pocquet and his fellow Libertines86 by defending the humanity of humans. One of Calvin‟s critics has suggested that, in effect, the reformer deprives fallen humans of their humanity and turns them into little more than pawns that God arbitrarily moves around on the cosmic chess board of history.87 However, an honest reading of Calvin‟s polemic against the radicals reveals quite a different portrait of this reformer. He writes, “The Libertines attribute nothing to the will of man, no more than if he were a stone.”88 Previously it was Albert Pighius who charged Calvin with the intellectual crime of leaving nothing of value within the human will.89 Ironically and illuminatingly, it is now Calvin who levels that very same accusation against the Libertines and in so doing confirms that Pighius‟ allegation is unfounded. Therefore, it is not only the literary context, but also the polemical context which deserves close consideration in order to appreciate Calvin‟s anthropology from a balanced perspective.

3.3.5 Préface de la Somme de Melanchthon (1546) In his preface to Melanchthon‟s Loci Communes, Calvin returns to a topic that he touched upon briefly in his debate with Albert Pighius. Pighius had attempted to employ the age-old strategy of divide-and-conquer by highlighting differences between Luther and Calvin concerning the human will. In reply Calvin insisted that fundamentally Luther and he agree that the will has been bound by sin and needs to be liberated by the redeeming power of the Holy Spirit.90 As part of his defence, Geneva‟s reformer declared that he has no argument of substance with Wittenberg‟s other reformer, Philip Melanchthon, either.91 Three years after his fiery exchange with Pighius, Calvin elaborates on this matter in a more irenic document, namely, his preface to the third edition of Melanchthon‟s Loci Communes. Consistent

86 For more detail on the origin, history, and teachings of the Libertines, see Jason P. Van Vliet, Arbitrium Humanum: Liberum vel Liberandum? An Historical-Theological Study of John Calvin‟s Doctrine of the Will (Hamilton: McMaster Divinity College, 2005), 95–7. 87 D. Miall Edwards as quoted in Partee, Calvin and Classical Philosophy, 123. 88 CO 7:183; Calvin, Against Anabaptists & Libertines, 238. 89 Melles, Albertus Pighius, 46. 90 CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 28. 91 CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 29.

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with his earlier approach, he expresses his overall agreement with his German colleague. At the same time, Calvin cannot avoid the fact that Melanchthon speaks about a certain freedom of the will which, at first glance, might appear to contradict his own emphasis on sin‟s devastating effects, including the enslavement of the will. He writes, “However, he [Melanchthon] concedes to man a certain liberty in that which does not go beyond this earthly life.”92 What sorts of liberties does he have in mind? By way of example he points to activities such as choosing whether to get up or lie down or deciding whether to pursue a career in manual labour, academic studies, or mercantile business. For his part, Calvin is thankful that Melanchthon puts a “bridle of restraint” on this “civil liberty” when the author of the Loci Communes adds the proviso that God always has dominion over everything.93 For the rest, Calvin does not see much value in discussing at length the matter of civil liberty, so long as the principal truth remains; namely, that “the spiritual good, which concerns our salvation, is attributed solely to the grace of God.”94 Notably, Calvin once again lays his hand upon the distinction between civil and spiritual, or earthly and heavenly, things. It appears to be his preferred tiller as he navigates some of the choppier doctrinal waters within the anthropological locus. If too much credit is given to the capabilities of sinful human beings, one runs the risk of detracting from God‟s glorious grace. However, if no acknowledgment whatsoever is made of the capacities which so obviously still exist within the soul, one teeters on the precipice of denying the humanity of humans. What is more, this whole matter is closely tied to the question of whether the imago Dei is severely defaced or utterly destroyed by the fall. As we approach the halfway point of Calvin‟s literary career, it becomes increasingly clear that he tends to use the distinction between earthly things and heavenly things, first introduced in the 1536 Institutes, in order to sail forward without running aground on either the Scylla of synergism or the Charybdis of fatalism.

3.3.6 Commentarii in priorem Epistolam ad Corinthios (1546) Turning to the exposition of the Scriptures, the next time Calvin touches upon the imago Dei is in his commentary on 1 Corinthians 11. This passage brings something new into Calvin‟s considerations, namely, the role of 92

CO 9:849; translation mine. CO 9:849; translation mine. 94 CO 9:849; translation mine. 93

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gender within the image of God. In doing so, he steps into a dispute that began before he was born. As mentioned in Chapter 1, la querelle des femmes (the debate about women) started to smoulder in the fifteenth century with Christine de Pizan‟s reaction to Jean de Meung‟s Le Roman de la Rose.95 De Pizan‟s spirited defence of female dignity sparked a wildfire of some nine hundred publications in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries.96 Some of these writings extolled the virtues and value of women while many of them denounced women, even calling into question whether or not they were human beings.97 One lady who participated in la querelle des femmes was Marguerite of Angoulême, Queen of Navarre. In 1542 she added her own theatrical fuel to the fire with her romantic drama, Comédie des quatre femmes.98 Since John Calvin received both hospitable refuge and occasional letters from Marguerite‟s hand, it is hard to imagine that he was not aware, to one degree or another, of la querelle des femmes. Another link between Calvin and la querelle des femmes can be found in the person of Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim (1486–1535). This man was a controversial German theologian who dabbled in the world of magic. In 1509 he also wrote a renowned book entitled, Declamation on the Nobility and Excellence of the Feminine Sex. In this publication he ardently defends the dignity of women, although some have argued that he wrote his Declamation with his tongue planted rather firmly in his cheek so to speak.99 Whether that is true or not, it is clear that Calvin was not at all impressed by Agrippa‟s hermeneutical approach. In his commentary on 1 Pet 1:25, Calvin warns that if anyone goes beyond the limits of what is revealed in Scripture, he will quickly fall into the traps that Satan sets. Then he adds: We ought the more carefully to notice this, because impious and Luciferian men, craftily allowing to God‟s word its own honor, at the same time attempt to draw us away from Scriptures, as that unprincipled man, Agrippa, who highly extols the eternity of God‟s word, and yet treats with scurillity the Prophets […].100 95 Leanna Bridge Rezvani, Marguerite de Navarre‟s Heptaméron and Madame de Lafayette‟s La Princess de Clèves: Polyphony, Spirituality and Didacticism in Response to the Querelle des Femmes (Boston: Boston College, 2005), 5–6. 96 Rezvani, Heptaméron and La Princess, 7. 97 See Theresa Kenney, Women Are Not Human: An Anonymous Treatise & Responses (New York: Crossroad Publications, 1998). In this book Kenney translates a 1595 Latin treatise in which the author denies that woman are created in the image of God or that they are even human beings. According to the treatise women are merely an instrumental cause by which men may procreate more men. 98 Patricia F. Cholakain and Rouben C. Cholakain, Marguerite de Navarre: Mother of the Renaissance (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), 228–30. 99 Dempsey Douglass, Women, Freedom, and Calvin, 68. 100 CO 55:230; Calvin, Commentaries, 22:59–60.

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Admittedly, Calvin is not speaking here explicitly about Agrippa‟s Declamation. However, as with Marguerite of Navarre, it demonstrates that Geneva‟s reformer was familiar with some of the key figures in la querelle des femmes. With this in mind, it is commendable that Calvin does not avoid this contentious issue, but adds his own contribution by expounding the pertinent scriptural passages. The first chapter of Genesis seems abundantly clear: both male and female share equally in the likeness of God. By way of contrast, though, in 1 Cor 11:3, 7 Paul appears to suggest that men reflect the image of God in a way that women do not. The apostle says: Now I want you to realize that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of the woman is man, and the head of Christ is God […]. A man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of man.

What could Paul possibly mean by statements like these? Calvin unravels the exegetical conundrum by drawing, yet again, his line of distinction between earthly and spiritual things. So far as spiritual and salvific matters are concerned, there is no difference between male and female, even as the apostle writes elsewhere in Gal 3:28. Both are equally renewed in the image of Christ.101 However, in earthly matters such as duties within the household and decorum in the worship services, there is a distinction which “God has conferred upon the man, so as to have superiority over the woman.” 102 In his distinct responsibility of being head of the woman, the man mirrors the universal headship of Christ (cf. Eph 1:22) in a way that the woman does not. Calvin applies this to married, as well as unmarried, women.103 In the worship services, therefore, a woman visibly displays her acknowledgement of male headship by wearing a covering, “whether it be a robe, or a veil, or any other kind of covering.”104 Finally, before leaving this passage, Calvin reminds males that if their headship responsibilities tempt them to become haughty or inconsiderate, then they do well to remember “that the man has no standing without the woman, for that would be the head severed from the body.” 105 Some years after this, in 1558, the preacher of St. Pierre would return to this text and also apply it to the daily lives of his parishioners, a congregation that obviously consisted of both men and women. Calvin‟s sermon on this passage will be examined later in this chapter, and it seems best to reserve further comment until then. 101

CO 49:474, 476; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:353–54, 357. CO 49:476; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:357. 103 CO 49:476–478; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:358–60. 104 CO 49:477; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:358. 105 CO 49:478; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:360. 102

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3.3.7 Commentaire sur la second Epistre aux Corinthiens (1547) In considering Romans 8, Calvin explored the meaning of what it is to be restored in the image of Christ. As he delves into 2 Cor 3:18, he qualifies his former exposition by adding: [This is] not accomplished in us in one moment, but we must be constantly making progress both in the knowledge of God, and in conformity to His image, for this is the meaning of the expression – from glory to glory […]. God makes his glory shine forth in us by little and little.106

Thus, the restoration of the imago Dei is progressive rather than instantaneous. In connection with this Calvin discusses the meaning of the Greek word, κατοπτρίζω, i.e., to look into a mirror. He disagrees with Erasmus who understood the word as applying exclusively to pastors who are called to reflect the Lord‟s glory unto their congregations. Instead, Calvin remarks that the phrase “we all” at the beginning of the verse indicates that all believers are transformed into a mirror which reflects the attributes of God with increasing clarity until the point of perfection, or flawless clarity, is reached at the final consummation.107

3.3.8 Commentarii in quatuor Pauli Epistolas (1548) Ephesians 4:22–24 As Calvin exegetes Ephesians 4:22–24, he notes that the Apostle Paul exhorts his readers to be renewed in their minds.108 Accordingly, in the restoration of the imago Dei, the intellect needs to be renovated by Christ just as much as the will does. In fact, the intellect is singled out for attention first in v 22, while the will, which is alluded to under the terms “righteousness and holiness,” does not come until v 24. Calvin remarks that often the human intellect is brought forward as “that Queen which philosophers are accustomed almost to adore.”109 To be sure, the deft creativity of the human mind is admirable.110 However, Calvin takes this occasion to distance himself from overly optimistic sophists who regarded the intellect as something which has the potential to make a human being well-nigh divine.111 Based 106

CO 50:47; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:187. CO 50:46–47; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:186–8. 108 CO 51:208; Calvin, Commentaries, 21:295–96. 109 CO 51:208; Calvin, Commentaries, 21:295. 110 CO 2:197–199; OS 3:257–259; Calvin, Institutes, 2.2.14–6. 111 See Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, On the Dignity of Man. On Being and the One. Heptaplus, trans. Paul J.W. Miller, Charles Glenn Wallis and Douglas Carmichael (Indianapolis: BobbsMerrill, 1940). The thought of Pico will be explored in greater detail in Chapter 4. 107

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on his reading of Ephesians 4, Calvin is convinced that the intellect is not divine, but depraved and in dire need of restoration. Colossians 1:15 In this verse Christ is identified as the “image of the invisible God.” Calvin is aware of the long history of exegesis in which this particular verse has been used to defend the divinity of Christ. Although he does not disagree with this interpretation, he maintains that the chief purpose of this passage is not to establish the divinity of Christ, but to set forth Christ, the eternal Son, as the one who “makes God in a manner visible to us.”112 Explaining this further, he adds that whereas creatures, especially human beings, may portray the attributes of God in some measure, they are not capable or competent to reveal the “perfect wisdom, goodness, righteousness, and power of God.”113 For that task Christ alone is sufficient. This concurs with a point that Calvin already made in the first edition of his Institutes; namely, that while God‟s attributes are infinite, the same attributes in humans are only finite. Likewise, while God possesses these attributes in and of himself, humans receive them as a gift. Since Christ is not only human but also divine, he reflects the Father‟s image with infinity and aseity. This kind and calibre of reflection is out of reach for mere mortals.

3.3.9 Calvinus Duci Somerseti (1548) Since Henry VIII‟s son, Edward VI, was only nine years old at his coronation, England was governed by Edward‟s uncle, Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset. From 1547–1549 he was arguably one of the most powerful magistrates on the British Isles. He was also a Protestant and he used his influence to implement widespread reforms among the religious practices of his fellow countrymen. Not surprisingly, his efforts met with stiff resistance. Lest the Duke begin to flag in zeal for the cause of reformation, Calvin pens a letter of encouragement to him in 1548. So far as Calvin can discern from his own continental perspective, there are two kinds of rebels that are hindering the progress of religious reform. “The one,” he writes, “[is] a fantastical sort of persons, who, under the colour of the Gospel, would put all into confusion. The others are persons who persist in the superstitions of the Roman Antichrist.”114 A familiar scenario – not unlike that which was happening in France – was unfolding 112

CO 52:85; Calvin, Commentaries, 21:149. CO 52:85; Calvin, Commentaries, 21:149. 114 CO 13:68; Calvin, Letters, 2:187. 113

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in England. Certain fanatics, who claimed to be followers of Christ and proponents of reform, exhibited unruly and seditious tendencies. In so doing they provided the Roman church with ample ammunition to discredit the whole movement toward reform as little more than a religious excuse for rebellious anarchy. Sensing that England might swing back in the direction of Rome, Calvin‟s advice to Duke Somerset includes an appeal to the doctrine of the imago Dei. He writes: Herein lies the chief remedy for the silencing of such calumnies, that those who make profession of the Gospel be indeed renewed after the image of God, so as to make manifest that our Christianity does not occasion any interruption of the humanities of social life, and to give good evidence, by their temperance and moderation, that being governed by the word of God, we are not unruly people subject to no restraint, and so by an upright holy life shut the mouth of all the evil speakers.115

Evidently, the renewal of the imago Dei is not exclusively spiritual but also civil and social. As the attributes of God are reflected in the lives of those who believe in Christ, it will be increasingly apparent that sincere disciples of Christ do not promote social disorder, let alone anarchy. As God is “not a God of disorder but of peace” (1 Cor 14:33), so this peace-pursuing and chaos-eschewing attitude will be also reflected in God‟s people. As Calvin encourages Duke Somerset with these thoughts, he also indicates that the doctrine of the imago Dei is not restricted to the realm of polemical treatises or pedagogical catechisms. It is also relevant on the political stage, particularly in times of national upheaval such as England was experiencing in the 1540s.

3.3.10 Commentarii in Epistolam ad Hebraeos (1549) In the opening verses of his epistle, the writer to the Hebrews identifies Christ as “the heir of all things.” Calvin comments that this pertains to Christ, as manifested in the flesh, for originally it was Adam who was created to be the heir of all good things. He writes, “For in the beginning God had established man, as [his] son, the heir of all his possessions.”116 Due to sin Adam alienated himself and his descendants from God‟s blessings and from God himself. Thus, Calvin continues, “Therefore, we rightly begin to

115

CO 13:69; Calvin, Letters, 2:188. CO 55:11; translation mine. See also Calvin, Commentaries, 22:34. The translation by John Owen falters in that he takes the filium to refer to Christ, and therefore he capitalizes it (“Son”). However, at this point filium does not refer to Christ, but to Adam. Christ, the universal heir, is not brought forward until the second sentence of the quotation. 116

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enjoy the good things of God, when Christ, who is the universal heir, receives us into fellowship with him.”117 This confirms an anthropological principle which the reformer already introduced fourteen years earlier in his Épître à tous amateurs; namely, that Adam was originally fashioned to be, not merely a special creature, but nothing less than God‟s own son, and if a son, then also an heir. Next, the Hebrews commentary pays closer attention to Christ, the eternal Son of God, who is “the express image” of the Father. The question arises: in what respect is Christ called the image of God, and how does this differ from Adam and Eve who were also created in God‟s image? Calvin answers this question by saying that when Christ is called the express image of God this refers to “his divine essence.”118 Whereas the created likeness between human beings and God was a similarity of attributes (wisdom, justice, mercy, etc.), the resemblance between the eternal Father and the eternal Son is one of essence, in addition to attributes. Furthermore, Christ is not the Father‟s “obscure or shadowy image, but his impress which resembles him, as money the impress of the die with which it is stamped.” 119 While freely admitting that no analogy or phraseology can fully convey the relationship between Father and Son, Calvin implies that the difference between Christ as imago Dei and Adam as imago Dei is not simply one of degree, but one of category. God the Son is like God the Father in a manner which no human being has ever been or will ever be able to duplicate. It is this categorical uniqueness of Christ which Calvin strives to communicate when he refers to the Son as the “the lively and express image of God.”120

3.3.11 Institutio totius christianae religionis (1550) In 1550 the fourth edition of the Institutes appeared in Latin, followed a year later by the French version. Aside from the helpful addition of paragraph numbers, the primary change in this edition is the addition of more material concerning the freedom of the conscience.121 Although Calvin‟s expanded treatment of the conscience is not part of his teaching on the 117

CO 55:11; translation mine. See also Calvin, Commentaries, 22:34. CO 55:11; Calvin, Commentaries, 22:35. 119 CO 55:112; Calvin, Commentaries, 22:36. 120 Calvin uses this expression, for example, in the prefatory Argument of his Genesis commentary. There, referring to this very passage, Heb 1:3, he writes, “[…] the eternal Word of God is the lively and express image of Himself” CO 23:9–10; Lat. viva et expressa sit illius effigies. It is noteworthy that Calvin does not choose the term imago here, but effigies. This is in line with the Biblical text of Heb 1:3, which does not call Christ the εἰκών of the Father, but rather the ἀπαύγασμα of his glory. 121 de Greef, Writings of John Calvin, 200–1. 118

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image of God per se, it is worthwhile to observe that, once again, he uses the distinction between the spiritual and civil realms to resolve certain thorny issues related to the conscience.122 As soon as people hear, perhaps from Col 2:20–23, that Christ liberates the conscience from human regulations, they might readily assume that they are also free from every civil law which a governor might enact and seek to enforce. However, as Calvin explains, such an assumption is unwarranted, for it fails to discern between the realm of external, earthly matters and the realm of the conscience, which properly speaking pertains to spiritual and heavenly matters.123 3.3.12 Commentaire sur l‟Epistre Sainct Jacques (1550) In the third chapter of his epistle, the Apostle James remarks, “With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God‟s likeness” (v 9). As Calvin expounds the significance of this passage, he is confronted with the fact that even though the image of God has been ruined by sin, it must continue to exist in some manner, otherwise the apostle‟s exhortation would lose its urgency. Consequently, he explains: Were any one to object and say, that the image of God in human nature has been blotted out by the sin of Adam; we must, indeed, confess that it has been miserably deformed, but in such a way that some of its lineaments still appear. Righteousness and rectitude, and freedom of choosing what is good, have been lost; but many excellent endowments, by which we excel the brutes, still remain. He, then, who truly worships and honours God, will be afraid to speak slanderously of man.124

Unfortunately, in this commentary, Calvin does not specify what these “lineaments” or “many outstanding endowments” might be.125 That list will come later in his commentary on Psalm 8.126 However, despite the dearth of detail, the overall picture is clear. Calvin is beginning to moderate, or at least qualify, his language. Whereas in his earlier writings he did not hesitate to say that, due to the fall into sin, the imago Dei was obliterated, now he begins to speak in a more nuanced fashion, pointing out that while the image is not totally obliterated, it is still miserably deformed.127 By this he means that after the fall human beings did not lose their humanity. Indeed, Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 133–5. CO 1:841. 124 CO 55:411; Calvin, Commentaries, 22:323. 125 CO 55:411, Lat. lineamenta and praeclarae multae dotes. 126 See section 3.3.18 below. 127 CO 55:411, Lat. est fuisse misere deformatam. 122 123

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even fallen, unregenerate persons tower over the brute beasts with numerous and noteworthy endowments.

3.3.13 Commentarii in Epistolas Canonicas (1551) 2 Peter 1:4 “Through these [God‟s glory and goodness] he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.” These words of 2 Pet 1:4 have perplexed many students of Scripture. What could the apostle possibly mean when he says that we may “participate in the divine nature”? Was the apostle himself a proponent of deification? Although Calvin is willing to use the word “deify” in a particular and restricted sense, above all else he is keen to refute any notion that we become part of God‟s eternal essence. Instead, the gospel makes us conformable to God. Calvin explains this controversial verse in this way: Let us then mark, that the end of the gospel is to render us eventually conformable to God, and, if we may so speak, to deify us. But the word nature is not here essence but quality. The Manicheans formerly dreamt that we are a part of God, and that, after having run the race of life we shall at length revert to our original. There are also at this day fanatics who imagine that we thus pass over into the nature of God, so that his swallows up our nature. Thus they explain what Paul says, that God will be all in all (1 Corinthians 15:28), and in the same sense they take this passage. But such a delirium as this never entered the minds of the holy Apostles; they only intended to say that when divested of all the vices of the flesh, we shall be partakers of divine and blessed immortality and glory, so as to be as it were one with God as far as our capacities will allow.128

This juxtaposition of participation in the divine nature and conformity to God‟s immortality and glory is reminiscent of some basic concepts that Calvin uses elsewhere when he describes the image of God as an attributive similarity between God and his people. Thus it is no great surprise that as he elaborates further on these words of the apostle, he connects it to the imago Dei: But we, disregarding empty speculations, ought to be satisfied with this one thing, – that the image of God in holiness and righteousness is restored to us for this end, that we may at length be partakers of eternal life and glory as far as it will be necessary for our complete felicity.129

128 129

CO 55:446; Calvin, Commentaries, 22:371. CO 55:447; Calvin, Commentaries, 22:371.

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In short, participatio Dei is nothing more, and nothing less, than the renewal of the imago Dei in us through Christ. 1 John 3:1–3 The next stop, albeit a brief one, in our journey through the Calvini opera is Calvin‟s explanation of 1 John 3. Here the prolific commentator of Geneva again connects adoption and image. He writes: For it was not common honour, he [John] says, that the heavenly Father bestowed on us, when he adopted us as children. This being so great a favour, the desire for purity ought to be kindled in us, so as to be conformed to his image.130

Essentially, Calvin reiterates what he already advocated in his commentary on Romans 8; namely, that being in the imago Dei includes being filii Dei, or, given the present context, it might be better to say that being filii Dei engenders a desire for the similitudo Dei, to be pure even as he is pure.

3.3.14 In primum Mosis librum Commentarius (1554) Dedicated to young Prince Henry of Navarre,131 Calvin‟s commentary on Genesis represents a milestone in this reformer‟s teaching on the imago Dei. Reading through his exposition of the pertinent passages gives the impression that the rich truth of this doctrine is coalescing in his mind, even as he is still busy discovering new elements. Argument Before delving into the text of Genesis itself, Calvin presents an overview, or “Argument,” of the main themes of this Bible book. He summarizes it in three points: After the world had been created, man was placed in it as in a theatre, that he, beholding above him and beneath the wonderful works of God, might reverently adore their Author. Secondly, that all things were ordained for the use of man, that he, being under deeper obligation, might devote and dedicate himself entirely to obedience towards God. Thirdly, that he was endued with understanding and reason, that being distinguished from brute animals he might meditate on a better life, and might even tend directly towards God, whose image he bore engraven on his own person.132

Two things are noteworthy about this summation. In the first place, God has clearly set human beings as the focal point of his creative work. All things 130

CO 55:329; Calvin, Commentaries, 22:202. He eventually became Henry IV, king of France. 132 CO 23:11–12; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:65. 131

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are created for their enjoyment and employment. Second, humans are obligated to direct their admiration and activity toward this God whose image they bear.133 Once again, one of Calvin‟s characteristic emphases comes to the fore; namely, that the direction of human existence is every bit as significant as its definition. Genesis 1:26–27 The above-mentioned emphasis on the direction of human existence does not negate the fact that the definition of the imago Dei also needs attention. Since he wrote commentaries on Ephesians and Colossians some eight years earlier, Calvin now appeals to the apostle‟s description of the renewal of the image in order to explain what its initial creation entailed. Since Paul singles out “righteousness and holiness” as key components of the restoration, Calvin also identifies these as “the chief part” of God‟s image in man at creation.134 At the same time, there is more to the image than just the chief part. In addition to possessing the gifts of righteousness and holiness, Adam “was endued with right judgement, had affections in harmony with reason, had all his senses sound and well-regulated, and truly excelled in everything.”135 Words such as “harmony” and “well-regulated” indicate that being created in the likeness of God is not merely a matter of reflecting certain divine attributes, but also possessing those qualities in a unified and integrated manner. Imago Dei contains integritas definita. Calvin even expands the scope of God‟s similitude when he says that “some scintillations” of it shine forth in the human body.136 Although he still adamantly rejects Anthropomorphitism,137 this mention of “scintillations” of God‟s image in the physical body is clearly a new development in Calvin‟s thinking. It takes him beyond his earlier position that the image was to be found only and exclusively in the soul.138 However, this only begs the question: in which way are God‟s attributes mirrored in the human body? Calvin refers to the intricate order, equality, and harmony which exist among the various parts of the human body.139 Presumably, this is a reflection of the order and harmony which exists among the attributes of God himself. Again, imago implies integritas. Note that there is something “God-ward” in each of Calvin‟s three points. CO 23:26; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:94. 135 CO 23:26; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:95. 136 CO 23:26; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:95. 137 CO 23:26; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:94. Also see Calvin, Commentaries, 1:112. There he comments on Gen 2:7 as follows: “[…] on this soul God engraved his own image, to which immortality is annexed.” 138 See section 3.2.1 above. 139 CO 23:27; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:95. 133 134

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In addition, Calvin is also willing, for the first time, to include man‟s dominion over creation as a part, albeit a small one, of the imago Dei. Although he maintains what he said in the Pscyhopannychia, namely, that Chrysostom was wrong to identify the imago Dei with the dominion over creation, yet here, in his Genesis commentary, he concedes that “this truly is some portion, though very small, of the image of God.” 140 Obviously Geneva‟s reformer was willing to elaborate on, and even modify, his theological positions as he matured in his exegetical insights into the Scriptures.141 As Calvin describes the effect of the fall into sin, he shows that, in the crucible of his polemics, he has learned to refine his statements. There is still a clear rejection of papal teaching, which tended to downplay the severity of human depravity. At the same time, bearing in mind that some radical reformers effectually undermined the humanity of humans, Calvin is also careful to point out that the image is not utterly obliterated in every way. Thus, speaking of what is left of the image after the fall, he writes: But now, although some obscure lineaments of that image are found remaining in us; yet are they so vitiated and maimed, that they may truly be said to be destroyed. For besides the deformity which everywhere appears unsightly, this evil also is added, that no part is free from the infection of sin.142

Genesis 5:1–3 When speaking of the image of God, most theologians will inevitably make reference to Genesis 1:26–27. Yet there is another, often overlooked passage about the likeness of God only a few chapters later in Gen 5:1–3. According to Calvin, Moses comes back to the topic, in the first place, because of “the excellency and dignity of this favour could not be sufficiently celebrated.”143 However, there is more here than mere repetition. The passage reads: When God created man, he made him in the likeness of God. He created them male and female and blessed them. And when they were created, he called them “man.” When Adam had lived 130 years, he had a son in his own likeness, in his own image; and he named him Seth.

Remarkably, there is a parallel between the “likeness” relationship which God created between himself and Adam, and the “likeness” relationship between Adam and his son, Seth. Calvin picks up on this parallel and, in line with his commentary on Romans 8, he ties together the image of God 140

CO 23:26; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:94. For example, compare to CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 28–9. 142 CO 23:27; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:95. 143 CO 23:105; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:227. 141

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and the fatherhood of God. He writes, “It is a nobility far more exalted, that he [Adam] should bear resemblance to his Creator, as a son does to his father.”144 Within the realm of earthly families it is a familiar phenomenon that sons and daughters tend to think, speak, act, and even aspire in ways that are, at times, strikingly similar to their father. Following Genesis 5, Calvin is inclined to use this father-child likeness to understand the created relationship between God and his first children, Adam and Eve. Genesis 9:6 The circumstances leading up to the flood provide evidence of how thoroughly sin had ruined the image of God. According to Moses, “The LORD saw how great man‟s wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time” (Gen 6:5). However, after the flood the Creator still uses the presence of his image in order to undergird his prohibition of murder. In Gen 9:6 Scripture says, “Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the image of God has God made man.” Here a dilemma appears to arise: if the sordid state of society before the flood indicates how ruined the image really was, then how can the Creator speak as if his image still exists shortly after the floodwaters have receded? Calvin‟s solution to this apparent dilemma is three-fold: First, there yet exists some remnant of it [the image], so that man is possessed of no small dignity; and, secondly, the Celestial Creator himself, however corrupted man may be, still keeps in view the end of his original creation; and [thirdly] according to his example, we ought to consider for what end he created man, and what excellence he has bestowed upon them above the rest of living beings.145

In other words, if God‟s image is compared to a magnificent building which has been ruined by an earthquake, then we should not let that devastation cause us to forget the pre-quake excellence of the building. Neither should we forget the brilliance of the original architectural plans. Likewise, Calvin suggests, although the image is utterly ruined by sin, so long as people keep in view the original dignity with which the Lord created them, there is ample reason to respect the life of other humans and shun violence. Genesis 9:22 Shortly thereafter Calvin mentions the imago Dei again, this time in connection with the twenty-second verse of this chapter. The surrounding verses describe how Noah‟s sons reacted to the nakedness of their inebri144 145

CO 23:106; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:228–9; emphasis mine. CO 23:147; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:296.

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ated father. For his part Ham makes a mockery of his father. Calvin remarks, “Drunkenness in itself deserves as its reward, that they who deface the image of their heavenly Father in themselves, should become a laughing-stock to their own children.”146 Here, albeit in a shame-filled context, Calvin once more links the doctrine of the image of God to a father-children relationship, allowing the latter to elucidate the former.

3.3.15 Commentarius in Acta Apostolorum (1554) In the course of his speech at the Athenian Areopagus, the Apostle Paul quotes, with agreement, from Aratus who said, “We are his [God‟s] offspring” (Acts 17:28). Calvin admits that the Greek poet himself might have entertained the notion that “there was some parcel of the divinity in men‟s mind.”147 Still, Aratus‟ errant imagination does not preclude the apostle‟s rightful use of the same words. In fact, Calvin comments by saying, “man is the offspring of God because, by an excellence of nature, they bear something divine. This is what the Scripture teaches: we are created in the image and likeness of God.”148 Having outlined his now familiar connection between sonship and semblance, Calvin goes on to delineate some needful distinctions. Two lines are beginning to converge, but if those lines are not drawn carefully the convergence will lead to a collision. The first line of development is that, over time, Calvin affirms with increasing clarity that there is still some remnant of the original image which resides in all human beings. A second theme Calvin has been cultivating is that being created in the image of God includes the establishment of a Father-children relationship between the Creator and his human creatures. However, when those two lines meet each other, the intersection seems to imply that all human beings are God‟s children. This, in turn, appears to oppose what the Apostle Paul states, for instance, in Gal 4:26, “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus.” Calvin resolves this looming contradiction with the following analysis: But as it [Scripture] gives the same Spirit diverse names because of his manifold graces, so no marvel if the word sons be diversely taken. All mortal men are called sons in general, because they draw near to God in mind and understanding; but because the image of God is almost blotted out in them, so that there appear scarce any slender lines, [lineaments,] this name is by good right restrained unto the faithful,

146

CO 23:150–151; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:301. CO 48:418; Calvin, Commentaries, 19:170. Some of the language in this quotation has been modernized. 148 CO 48:418; translation mine. 147

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who having the Spirit of adoption given them, resemble their heavenly Father in the light of reason, in righteousness and holiness.149

Although some may judge Calvin‟s explanation to be somewhat contrived, perhaps one of his other oft-used distinctions can be brought in at this juncture to bolster his argument, namely, the difference between temporal or earthly things and eternal or heavenly things. Calvin himself does not use this distinction at this point in his commentary. However, if we do make use of it in this context, then we might say that all people can be called God‟s children in a general sense, for within the realm of earthly things they can resemble God with their sharp acumen and intellect. In this way they rise far above the level of brute beasts. At the same time, the title “children of God” is reserved, in a special sense, for those who are adopted through faith in Jesus Christ, for they alone are made to exhibit the likeness of God with the imputed, heavenly holiness of God‟s eternal Son.

3.3.16 Sermons sur le livre de Job (1554–55) Calvin‟s sermons on the book of Job150 contain numerous fascinating, exegetical insights into the debates between the man from Uz and his friends. Exploring all of these would go beyond our present purposes. Nevertheless, attention must be given to a few aspects. In the first place, these sermons speak frequently about the wonders of the created realm, from towering mountains to impressive beasts, like the elephant. Taken together, all the diverse parts of creation form an image, or mirror, in which the attributes of God are reflected. Calvin phrases it in this way: It behooves us to come back to this point, namely, why God sets the earth before us as a mirror.151 It is to the end we might behold his infinite glory, wisdom, power, and might, to guide us and lead us, as it were by the hand, to the consideration of his works which are exceedingly great and excellent, thereby to be ravished into wonderment, so that we might humble ourselves under his incomprehensible greatness, and honour him.152

149

CO 48:418; Calvin, Commentaries, 19:170. The exact date of Calvin‟s sermons on Job remains unclear. As T.H.L. Parker remarks, “The attempt to assign precise dates to the sermons on Job seems doomed to failure.” At the same time, he provides the best chronology possible, ranging from September 1554 to March 1555. See Parker, Calvin‟s Preaching, 168–70. 151 CO 35:368, Fr. un miroir. 152 Job 38:5. CO 35:368–369; Calvin, Sermons on Job, 695.b.5–13. References to the 1574 Golding translation of the Sermons on Job are comprised of the page number, column (a/b) and line numbers. Furthermore, for this, and all other, citations from the Sermons on Job I have updated Golding‟s spelling and diction. 150

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Therefore, the vast creation can be called a mirror of God‟s majesty, just as humans are the mirror of divine glory. However, even in its reflection of the Maker, creation is serving men and women by prompting them to humble themselves before God and honour him, which is, after all, the goal for which they were created. Second, there is still a significant and substantial difference between human beings and the rest of creation. In these sermons Calvin repeatedly makes a connection between the image of God and the privileged position that humans, particularly believers in Christ, may have as the children of God. Three quotations suffice to illustrate the point: True it is that men are often called the children of God, because he has imprinted his image in them, especially in the believers, in as much as they are renewed to the likeness of our Lord Jesus, who is the lively image of God his Father, and also insomuch as they have received the Spirit of adoption, which is a testimony unto them that God bears a fatherly love towards them.153 For in as much as we are reasonable creatures, and have the Image of God printed in our nature: we have a record that he holds us here as his children.154 Behold how the angels surely are the children of God. Yet we are thus called as well as they are. Why? Because God created us after his own image and likeness. And although this were defaced by the sin of Adam: yet it was repaired again in the chosen by the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the lively image of God, and we were so exalted by his Spirit, as we be now placed in our former state again […].155

This language is in line with Calvin‟s earlier writings in, for example, the Épître à tous amateurs, the Genesis commentary, and the Acts commentary. However, it must be said that the sermons of Job contain some of the most explicit and extensive descriptions thus far of the image of God within the context of the relationship between the Father and children. Third, although the imago Dei establishes a close, even familial, relationship between God and humans, it does not imply that men, women, and children somehow partake of the divine essence. That was the direction in which Michael Servetus opted to go and Calvin vehemently rejected it. With the memory of Servetus‟ trial in 1553 still fresh in their minds, Calvin reminds the Genevan congregants of this error as he preaches from Job 27:3. Job declares, “As long as I have life within me, the breath of God in my nostrils, my lips will not speak wickedness.” Expounding this verse, Calvin affirms:

153

Job 1:6. CO 33:59; Calvin, Sermons on Job, 15.b.3–10; emphasis mine. Job 4:20–5:2. CO 33:212; Calvin, Sermons on Job, 76.a.30–2; emphasis mine. 155 Job 38:7. CO 35:371; Calvin, Sermons on Job, 696.a.57–64; emphasis mine. 154

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True it is that when Job speaks here of God‟s spirit, we must not imagine as the fantastical sort do, who think that the very substance of God‟s spirit is in them: for there is not a more abominable heresy than that is […]. Like as the unhappy Heretic that was punished here, had the conceit to say that men‟s souls were partakers of the substance of the Godhead. But that is a thing horrible and against nature.156

In sum, the sermons on Job do not provide any strikingly new perspectives on the image of God. The three themes mentioned above can all be found in earlier writings within the Calvini opera. All the same, as Calvin preaches the book of Job from his pulpit in Cathédrale St-Pierre, this doctrine somehow comes across more concisely and clearly. 3.3.17 Calvin à l‟église française d‟Anvers (1556) Starting with some displaced members of the refugee congregation in London, the French-speaking church in Antwerp grew quickly as more reformed-minded believers fled from Picardy to the Lowlands. Toward the later part of 1556 the congregation turned to Calvin for spiritual guidance, since they were without a pastor. He exhorts them to remain steadfast and shun all evil, as “you live in a place where so many corruptions prevail.”157 Next, he urges them to aspire unto a full and glorious transformation in the image of Christ. He writes: Dedicate yourselves wholly to our Lord Jesus Christ, till you be entirely transformed into his image, in order to be participators of his glory; and always keep in mind that we have to pass through this world, and not to be shut up in it.158

As he does in his letter to Duke Somerset, Calvin again applies the doctrine of the imago Dei to the concrete situations of life. The congregation in Antwerp, lacking a pastor and surrounded by iniquity, needs encouragement. Calvin chooses to remind them that being recreated in the image of Christ is not a one-time event, but a life-long experience. Nevertheless, although the transformation takes time, the end result is worth the wait; for to be transformed in the likeness of the Son is to participate in nothing less than the glory of the Father.

156 Job 27:3. CO 34:454; Calvin, Sermons on Job, 458.a.40-b.10. The views of Servetus are explained in more detail below in section 6.2. 157 CO 16:338; Calvin, Letters, 3:304. 158 CO 16:338–39; Calvin, Letters, 3:305.

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3.3.18 In librum Psalmorum Commentarius (1557) In Psalm 8 David is captivated by the brilliant glory of the Lord which shines forth in all of creation, but particularly in human beings who are “the brightest mirror in which we can behold his glory.”159 The excellent endowments by which they reflect the glory of their Maker are the following: The reason with which they are endued, and by which they can distinguish between good and evil; the principle of religion which is planted in them; their intercourse with each other, which is preserved from being broken up by certain sacred bonds; the regard to what is becoming, and the sense of shame which guilt awakens in them, as well as their continuing to be governed by laws; all these things are clear indications of pre-eminent and celestial wisdom.160

If someone were simply to read the above statement, without having knowledge of the rest of Calvin‟s writings, it might well be difficult to determine if he is speaking about the human race before or after the fall. However, having come this far in our pilgrimage through Calvin‟s corpus, it appears that here he is describing the remnants of the image. If he had wished to depict the glory of the image at creation, then he would have likely used some variation of his oft-repeated explanation that man was created to reflect the wisdom, righteousness, holiness, and goodness of God. Yet this is not what Calvin brings to the fore in this particular passage. Rather, he mentions things such as the discerning faculty of intelligence, the awareness of the existence of a deity,161 the sanctity of the marriage bond (to cite but one example), and the human conscience which restrains people with the reins of shame.162 These are a few of the “excellent endowments” which remain post lapsum and to which Calvin briefly referred in his commentary on James 3:9.

3.3.19 Sermons sur la première Epître aux Corinthiens (1558) Preached during the course of 1555–56 and later published in 1558, Calvin‟s sermons on 1 Corinthians, particularly on the eleventh chapter, provide valuable insight into his views on the relationship between gender and the image of God. These sermons are no abstract exercise. Before Calvin‟s eyes is the congregation of St. Pierre, consisting of both male and female parishioners. Undoubtedly, the women and the men in the church building 159

CO 31:88; Calvin, Commentaries, 4:93–4. CO 31:91; Calvin, Commentaries, 4:102. 161 Cf. Rom 1:20. 162 Cf. Rom 2:14–15. 160

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were eager to hear how their pastor would explain that verse which had caused countless theologians to slip and stumble: “he [man] is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of man” (1 Cor. 11:7). True to character, Calvin deals with it in a methodical manner. To begin with, St. Pierre‟s preacher explains that in the church of God there is, first of all, doctrine (la doctrine) and then also order (la police).163 The latter is a legal term which refers specifically to the regulation of all necessary things – all civil and communal matters – for this present life.164 Regarding the doctrine of eternal salvation, human beings have absolutely no right to change or alter anything. However, concerning la police there is some freedom to decide what is best, taking into consideration local circumstances. For example, Calvin says, the worship service in St. Pierre assembles at eight o‟clock, but another congregation might choose for seven o‟clock.165 By the same token, no one should turn liberty in matters pertaining to la police into a libertarian free-for-all. Calvin warns his congregation that once a group of believers has been instructed in sound doctrine and has established a certain order on the basis of that doctrine, no one should quickly or haphazardly attempt to alter that order, otherwise it will look like “the Church of God is just a game to us.”166 Having established the distinction between la doctrine and la police, as well as the importance of both, Calvin goes on to address the particular circumstance within the Corinthian congregation. As he understands it, some of the women in the congregation came to worship with their heads uncovered, making a rather ostentatious display of their hairdos. At the same time, some of the men wore such elaborate turbans and headdresses that, to the casual observer, it seemed that they were trying to look like women. Thus, he exclaims, “Behold how perverse the world is, as if they would change the order of nature!”167 As such, the manner in which a person styles his or her hair is not a matter of salvific significance. In other words, hairstyles belong to la police, not la doctrine. However, when the attitude which accompanies the hairdo includes an attempt, wittingly or unwittingly, to usurp the created distinction between the genders, then the apostle will not remain silent.

163 CO 49:710; John Calvin, Men, Women, and Order in the Church: Three Sermons by John Calvin, trans. Seth Skolnitsky (Dallas: Presbyterian Heritage Publications, 1992), 7–8. 164 See Paul Robert, Josette Rey-Debove and Alain Rey, Le nouveau petit Robert: dictionnaire alphabétique et analogique de la langue française (Paris: Dictionnaires Le Robert, 1993), s.v. “la policé”. 165 CO 49:711–712; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 9. 166 CO 49:713; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 11. 167 CO 49:714; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 12.

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Furthermore, Calvin draws his congregation‟s attention to the third verse of 1 Corinthians 11 where the apostle establishes four ranks: God, Christ, man, and woman. Before delving into the rank distinction between men and women, he asks, rhetorically and wisely, “How is it then, that Jesus Christ is here set below God, His Father, as if He were not equal with Him in majesty and glory?”168 To answer this pressing and pertinent question, Calvin turns to the distinction between Christ‟s divine and human natures. So far as his divine nature is concerned the Son is entirely equal to the Father. Yet so far as it pertains to his human nature, especially during his time of humiliation before and on the cross, Christ was subject to the sovereignty of his Father. Indeed, Christ did not even hesitate to call himself “a worm and no man.”169 Still, and this is a crucial point for Calvin, it is not degrading that God‟s eternal Son, as incarnate Mediator, was subject to the Father for the sake of our salvation. On the contrary, Christ‟s kindness shines forth all the brighter.170 Moving forward from there, Geneva‟s preacher goes on to expound that as the Son, in his human nature, is subject to the Father, so also women are subject to men. Again, Calvin draws out an important distinction. So far as divine adoption, God‟s promises, the heavenly inheritance, and the sacraments here on earth are concerned, there is no difference. The entire hope of salvation is shared by all the faithful – both male and female. In this way, it can also be said that both men and women are restored in the image of God by Jesus Christ.171 At the same time, Christ‟s redemptive work does not destroy the order which God established at creation. As Calvin points out, God first gave the command (Gen 2:15–17) to the man, Adam, and thereafter created a helper fit for him, namely, Eve (Gen 2:18–23).172 Thus, between the genders there is a created order, and that order also ought to be evident in the worship service. The evidence of that order was being endangered by the trends in head apparel within the Corinthian congregation.173 Consequently Calvin argues, so far as the realm of eternal salvation is concerned, both men and women are restored in the image of God, but in the realm of earthly order there is a difference. “It is with regard to this aspect, namely the matter of policy [la police] that St. Paul says that we [men] are the image and glory of God.”174 Yet, lest women despair that they are eternally inferior, the preacher of St. Pierre, presumably looking at his 168

CO 49:716; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 15. CO 49:717; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 16. 170 CO 49:717; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 16. 171 CO 49:727; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 30. 172 CO 49:723; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 25. 173 CO 49:723; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 25–6. 174 CO 49:727; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 32. 169

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female parishioners, encourages them, saying, “this glory and honor [given to men] of which St. Paul speaks here is a small thing, and at the least a transitory one.”175 Calvin calls it “transitory” because when Christ appears, then that small honour, reserved for men in this present life, will vanish in the perfection of the life to come. All of the above does not mean that Calvin never made any disparaging remarks about women – even in their presence. At one point in his sermon on 1 Corinthians 11:11–16 he remarks: It is true that today men are as channels through which God causes His grace to stream down upon women. For, from where do industry and all the arts and sciences come? From where does labor come? From where do all the most excellent things and highly-esteemed things come? To be sure, it all comes from the men‟s side.176

At the same time, Calvin‟s use of the distinction between the heavenly and eternal hope of salvation (la doctrine) and the earthly and temporal order of civil life (la police) is a helpful perspective on 1 Corinthians 11. In particular, he helps both men and women understand this crux interpretum by pointing them to the incarnate Christ who was under the headship of the Father, and yet his subjection was not an onerous thing. Indeed, from the perspective of full and eternal glory, Calvin is so bold as to suggest that it is but a small and transitory matter.

3.4 Finishing Touches: 1559–1564 3.4.1 Institutio christianae religionis (1559) Right from the start of his magnum opus, the final edition of his Institutes, Calvin sets forth his twin distinctions of coram Deo versus coram hominibus and spiritual things versus earthly things. He indicates that a person may have a great measure of righteousness in the eyes of fellow human beings when it concerns earthly things; however, when matters of the spiritual realm are considered, and when that same person is evaluated against the “straightedge”177 of God‟s perfect righteousness, wisdom, and power, then the brilliance of that apparent righteousness rapidly fades away. This distinction was already in place in the first article of Calvin‟s 1536 Institutes, but now that he has come through some twenty years of refuting

175

CO 49:728; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 32. CO 49:730; Calvin, Men, Women and Order, 35. 177 CO 2:33; OS 3:32–33; Calvin, Institutes, 1.1.2. 176

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heresies and writing commentaries, he has become all the more certain of just how important these distinctions are. In chapter fifteen of the first book, Calvin lays out his explanation of the imago Dei. He begins by establishing the core of this doctrine; namely, that human beings, as created, were “the noblest and most remarkable example of [God‟s] justice, wisdom, and goodness.”178 In other words, they were endowed with a striking, mirror-like reflection of some of the perfect attributes of the Creator. Next, Calvin introduces the telos of the image. Even though Adam was created from the lowly dust of the earth, God willed him to be “the abode of an immortal spirit,” thereby giving humankind‟s first father every reason to “rightly glory in the great liberality of his Maker.”179 Next, the reformer uses the doctrine of the image of God as one of his main proofs that human beings possess a created, yet at the same time immortal, soul.180 Having surveyed his earlier writings, we immediately recognize this as his polemic against the radical reformers who were teaching the sleep of the soul after death. Yet, notwithstanding his vigour to promote the immortal soul as the seat of God‟s likeness, Geneva‟s theologian has learned to be open to the idea that God‟s image also glows in the outward form of the body. For instance, unlike animals who are bent over on all fours and look toward the earth, human beings stand erect.181 By the same token, Calvin is not open to the ideas of Andreas Osiander, a Lutheran theologian with mystical tendencies. In 1550 Osiander wrote an essay on the image of God.182 In Calvin‟s estimation, Osiander “indiscriminately extend[s] God‟s image both to the body and to the soul” and in so doing “mingles heaven and earth.”183 In other words, he fails to make that fundamental distinction between earthly things and heavenly things. Consequently, he entangles himself in a labyrinth of heterodoxy. One of Osiander‟s errors is his tendency to blur the line between Creator and creature by suggesting that the essence of a human being is somehow an emanation of the very essence of God. Calvin has no patience for such notions.184 The imago Dei refers to a semblance of attributes, not a synthesis of essence. In his further explication of the anthropological locus, Calvin notes that the image of God has much to do with integrity and proper order within the human soul. As he says: 178

CO 2:134; OS 3:173–174; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.1. CO 2:135; OS 3:173–174; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.1. 180 CO 2:136–138; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3; Calvin comes back to this topic in Calvin, Institutes, 3.25.6. 181 CO 2:136; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 182 For more details on this essay see section 6.1.1 below. 183 CO 2:136–137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 184 Calvin refutes Osiander‟s view on the imago Dei in Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3–5, 2.12.5–7. 179

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Accordingly, the integrity with which Adam was endowed is expressed by this word [=likeness], when he [Adam] had full possession of right understanding, when he had his affections kept within the bounds of reason, all his senses tempered in right order, and he truly referred his excellence to exceptional gifts bestowed on upon him by his Maker.185

Noteworthy is the manner in which Calvin highlights the proper functioning of the will (“his affections”) under the leadership (“the bounds”) of understanding,186 as well as all the senses working together in the “right order.” Clearly, the image involves not only which faculties God gave to Adam and Eve, but also how those faculties co-operate with each other. Having written commentaries on 1 Corinthians (1548) and Genesis (1554), Calvin also inserts a short statement about the image of God and gender in the final edition of his Institutes. In passing he simply remarks, “But the statement in which man alone is called by Paul „the image and glory of God‟ [1 Cor. 11:7 Vg.] and woman excluded from this place of honor is clearly to be restricted, as the context shows, to the political order.”187 In this context the phrase “political order” does not refer, in the first place, to the involvement of women within civil government, but rather the place of women within the common social orders and structures of the day.188 Concerning the effect of the fall on the imago Dei, Calvin‟s study, preaching, and polemics over the years have led him to maintain his conviction that sin has brought a horrible devastation upon humankind. Yet, working from texts like Gen 9:6, he has also learned to anticipate the objections of both Roman Catholics and radicals alike by acknowledging that there is a remnant of the imago Dei which still exists after the fall. At this point in his theological development Calvin describes the post lapsum state as follows: Now God‟s image is the perfect excellence of human nature which shone in Adam before his defection, but was subsequently so vitiated and almost blotted out that nothing remains after the ruin except what is confused, mutilated, and diseaseridden.189

Later, in the second book of the Institutes, Calvin goes on to elucidate this by explaining that concerning spiritual matters the image has been obliterated by the fall, but within the realm of earthly things there are some ob-

185

CO 2:138; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. Cf. CO 2:142; OS 3:184–185; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.7. 187 CO 2:138–139; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4. 188 See section 3.2.3 where Calvin‟s use of the word “political” is explained in more depth. 189 CO 2:139; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4; emphasis mine. 186

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scure remnants of the image which testify to the original dignity and excellence with which God created man.190 One statement that has perennially perplexed students of Calvin is his final sentence of Book 1, Chapter 15. He writes: Yet he [man in the general sense] is not excusable, for he received so much that he voluntarily brought about his own destruction; indeed, no necessity was imposed upon God of giving man other than a mediocre and even transitory will, that from man‟s Fall he might gather occasion for his own glory. 191

The question arises: what does he mean by a “mediocre and even transitory will”?192 Was the human will, at creation, not righteous and holy? It may be possible to understand this in line with the first edition of his Institutes. There Calvin indicates that Adam and Eve were endowed with attributes which parallel God‟s own attributes. At the same time, their wisdom was finite whereas God‟s was infinite. Similarly, whereas Adam‟s will was initially righteous, it was still “mediocre” in comparison with the infinite capacities of God‟s own will. Furthermore, even in paradise Adam only had wisdom as a gracious gift from God. He did not possess it in and of himself. For this reason, wisdom could, and did, leave him when he failed to submit to the Source of his wisdom. Perhaps Calvin means something similar when he says that the will is “transitory.” In other words, in the beginning Adam was given a righteous will. However, that, too, could change if he refused to obey the probationary command. The will per se would still be there, but its uprightness would vanish. It remains difficult to say decisively if this is what Calvin means by his admittedly peculiar statement. However, the above explanation may at least serve to ease the perplexity.

3.4.2 Sermons sur la Genèse (1559) Genesis 1:26–28 Delivered on 9 September 1559, Calvin‟s sermon on Genesis 1:26–28 is a veritable treasure-trove of information concerning the reformer‟s view on the imago Dei. The sermon is comprehensive, touching on almost every major facet of the doctrine; it is polemical, dealing at length, albeit anony190 In Calvin, Institutes, 2.2.13, Calvin brings forward the actual distinction between the two realms of earthly and spiritual things. Then he first works this out concerning the understanding in 2.2.14–17 re: earthly things and 2.2.18–25 re: spiritual things and concerning the will in 2.2.26 re: earthly things and 2.2.27 re: spiritual things. 191 CO 2:143; OS 3:185–187; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.8. 192 CO 2:143; Lat. mediam illi voluntatem daret, atque etiam caducam.

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mously, with Andreas Osiander; it is also accessible and relevant for the Genevans who arrived for worship on that particular autumn Saturday in the church of St. Pierre. The first thing that strikes the modern reader is that the whole sermon is framed within the Father-children relationship that was established between God and Adam and Eve. The sermon both begins and ends with this relationship, forming a homiletically skilful inclusio. Moreover, this relationship is explicitly mentioned on at least three more occasions in the body of the sermon.193 The opening paragraph of the homily is indicative of the manner in which Calvin weaves this theme through the entire sermon: According to the order in which we are being taught here by Moses, we see that before our father Adam was created, in effect God already demonstrated that he wants to be a Father to him, and to his descendants, thereby exalting him above all creatures. It is true that he could have created him first, but he kept this for the end. And why? Because before he was created, he wished to provide him with what was required and necessary. Even an [earthly] father will not wait until his child comes into the world, but when the time draws near for his wife to give birth, he will provide what is necessary for the child. When a father has the means, he will buy swaddling clothes and all the rest. In a similar way, then, God did not wait until man was created to provide for his nourishment and clothing, but beforehand he filled the earth with good and rich things, because, as we have said, everything is for the usage of man, and again this is expressed even more clearly here.194

This Father-children relationship is not incidental, but integral, to the imago Dei. This becomes evident later in the sermon, when Calvin explains: But when it is said here that “man must be created in the image of God and according to his likeness,” it is for the purpose of declaring that he must have such virtues and gifts, which will serve as signs and marks, to demonstrate that the human race is as the lineage of God, just as St. Paul proves with the saying from the pagan poet in 17th chapter of Acts: “we are his descendants.”195

As God‟s created children, Adam and Eve rank far higher than any other creature or part of creation. It is true, admits Calvin, that as far as the source material for the body is concerned, humans are no different from donkeys: both are formed from dirt and dust.196 This fact ought to humble the entire human race. Nevertheless, in his sovereign good pleasure – and Calvin stresses this – the Father adorns his children with such noble qualities and capabilities that “if one would but contemplate what is in man, one would 193

See Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse. The first reference to the Father-children relationship is found on pg. 54; the last on pg. 66; the three in the body of the sermon on pp. 57, 61, and 65. 194 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 54; translation mine. 195 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 57; translation mine. 196 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 55. Also cf. Gen 1:24 and 2:7.

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find so many things worthy of admiration, that it is as if one would make a trip around the whole world!”197 Here the unreservedly positive rhetoric of Geneva‟s preacher should not escape our attention. Another helpful element in this sermon is the manner in which Calvin distinguishes between Christ, as the express image of God, and Adam, who was also created in God‟s image. The preacher informs his congregation: Now, it is true that our Lord Jesus Christ is the image of God […]. In Jesus Christ, then, we contemplate, as face to face, the glory of God, his Father, and, above all, since he has been revealed to us according to what is proclaimed to us by the Gospel. But already from time immemorial, he has been the mirror by which the holy fathers and patriarchs under the law could have known God, because without this they would have remained confused. Since, God is, of himself, invisible, he has to be made manifest in such a fashion.198

The contrast, therefore, between Christ and Adam is that whereas Christ radiates God‟s glory fully, and as it were, face to face, Adam only reflects the divine majesty as in a mirror. This distinction becomes all the more lucid when the quality of mirrors in the sixteenth century is considered. In the twenty-first century there is hardly any difference between seeing someone face-to-face or viewing that same person in a mirror. A modern mirror provides an almost flawless reflection of the person standing in front of it. Such was most certainly not the case in the sixteenth century. At that time the technology needed to manufacture glass mirrors with silvered backings was in its infancy. Clear glass was rare. Due to the raw materials used, coloured glass was far more common. Moreover, making a perfectly flat piece of glass was, as yet, an undiscovered skill. Thus, glass mirrors were either convex or concave, and as such, produced a distorted image. Finally, the skill of successfully fusing a reflective metal alloy to a piece of glass was still in an unrefined state. Factoring in all these limitations, Sabine Melchior-Bonnet concludes: The silvered glass mirror produced only a very imperfect image and the curious enjoyed them especially for their optical distortions […]. Moreover, notes a contemporary [in the fifteenth century], “one sees someone else there rather more than oneself.”199

197

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 55. Here Calvin alludes to the well-known description of man as a microcosm. 198 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 57; translation mine. 199 Sabine Melchior-Bonnet, The Mirror: A History, trans. Katharine H. Jewett (New York: Routledge, 2001), 16; further information on the history of the mirror, as it pertains to the Middle Ages and the sixteenth century, can be found on pp. 11–16 of Melchior-Bonnet‟s thorough and fascinating book.

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Due to the high cost of glass mirrors in the sixteenth century, the average family in Geneva would only own a polished metal mirror. These polished metal mirrors produced a hazy reflection at best. In sum, when Calvin uses the term “mirror” in connection with the image of God, it is not a picture-perfect reflection that he has in mind. As it was for the Apostle Paul, so it was for the preacher of Geneva: “we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror.”200 Therefore, whereas the patriarchs of the old covenant could acquire some knowledge of God through the dim reflection of the divine in the mirror of mankind, it is not until the new covenant when God reveals himself in Christ that this image is clarified. In Christ we begin to view God‟s glory with increasing clarity, until we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:2). Next, working from familiar passages such as Ephesians 4 and Colossians 3, Calvin settles on three main aspects of the imago Dei in the garden of Eden. First, it is that God created Adam and Eve full of justice, discretion, and prudence, as well as free from all vanity and falsehood, such that the light of God‟s glory shines in the human soul.201 Second, the Creator also endowed the first parents of the human race with a will that was inclined toward all good and all justice.202 Third, Adam‟s body was so wellproportioned “that he did not have a finger which was not ready and eager to serve and honour God.”203 Notably, although the principal parts of the image still reside within the soul, the body is also included.204 Additionally, with an audience of mixed gender before him, Calvin does not shy away from the potentially touchy issue of whether or not women are created in the image of God just as men are. He begins by acknowledging that some might suppose that only Adam and his sons, that is, male human beings, are created in the image of God. Here the preacher shows that he was in tune with his own times, for that very position was being promulgated in the sixteenth century, and the members of his congregation were, in all likelihood, well aware of it.205 However, Calvin immediately rejects such a chauvinistic point of view, pointing out to his flock that Moses clearly says that when God created human beings in his image he did so for “male and female” (Gen 1:27). Moreover, Calvin continues, when the Apostle Paul speaks of the renewal in Christ, he also underlines the fact that in Christ there is neither male nor female (Gal 3:28).206 Should anyone ob200

1 Cor 13:12; emphasis mine. Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 60. 202 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 60. 203 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 60; translation mine. 204 See section 3.2.1 above. 205 See section 3.3.6 above. 206 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 63. 201

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ject that in 1 Corinthians 11 this same apostle attributes the image of God only to men, the preacher of St. Pierre has an answer for that as well. He explains: Now St. Paul […] is dealing with the external order, because women were coming into the church dishevelled and not feeling any shame [about the matter]. Now, seeing such ill-mannered behaviour, St. Paul reproves them: “What? You do not know the place in which God has put you!” Because a woman has to be subject to man, even if she is not yet married.207

Here Calvin once again leans on his distinction between external and eternal, or earthly and heavenly, things. He explains that God has established a certain order within society so that human relations, also between the genders, will function harmoniously and fruitfully. When the Apostle Paul sees the women of Corinth tossing aside this ordained order, he rebukes them, reminding them that just as Christ is the head of every man, so man is the head of woman. It is this headship resemblance between Christ and men which prompts the apostle to say that man is the “image and glory of God.” At the same time, Calvin makes it clear to his congregation that this pertains to the external order208 only, and that for the rest, “we can see that man is created – not just male only, but also female – so that both carry the image of God.”209 Genesis 5:1–25 Approximately one month after Calvin preached his sermon on the imago Dei in Genesis 1:26–28, he returns to the topic in a sermon on Genesis 5:1– 25, especially the first three verses of the chapter. In addition to reaffirming the creation of Adam and Eve in the image of God, the opening verses of Gen 5 also reveal that Adam had a son in his own image, namely, Seth. After noting that the imago Dei includes the appointment of human beings as his “lieutenants” over all creation,210 Calvin goes on to assert, “In fact, this image imports that men are as a divine lineage in whom God has inspired some measure of his glory.”211 However, whereas Genesis 1 is before 207

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 63; translation mine. Fr. la police exterieure. See sections 3.2.3 and 3.3.5 above for more examples of things that belong to the external realm. 209 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 63; translation mine. 210 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 325. Considering that in the Psychopannychia Calvin rejected the dominion mandate as part of the imago Dei, it is noteworthy that he is more open to including it here. 211 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 325; translation mine. When Calvin refers to a “lignée divine” it might appear that the descendants themselves are divine; however, considering his emphasis elsewhere on keeping a strong and clear line of demarcation between divine and human, it is clear that he means “descendants of the divine,” i.e., children of God. 208

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the fall into sin, Genesis 5 comes after that tragedy. Calvin, therefore, sketches for his congregation the difference between God originally creating Adam in his own image and Adam having a son in his own image: But, on the other hand, he [Moses] shows us into what condition we have come following the fall of Adam, because he says soon thereafter that Adam begat in his image, and he begat in his likeness. He had repeated the image and likeness of God twice, and now he does the same with that of the man, as if to say, “Alas, what a change!” When men bore the image of God, his glory shone in their body and in their soul. Now, here is another image which follows in its place. It‟s that Adam has disfigured himself, as if one had thrown mud against an image which was excellent, so that the whole world spat upon it, since it was full of filth and villainy. 212

The sharp contrast between the two – God‟s image in Adam at creation and Adam‟s image in Seth after the fall – highlights the devastating consequences of sin. Yet remnants of the original image can still be found in people today. Calvin unravels the inconsistency between the image defaced and the image destroyed by using the analogy of a ruined house which has a few tufts of vibrant green grass peeking up through the rubble. As with all analogies, it is not perfect, but at the very least it does help reduce the apparent incongruity: It is true that there is still some trace, because God did not want his trace to be totally extinguished, but this small residue which remains in us is nothing but a testimony of the ruin. It‟s as if there was a beautiful house which had been well built – or some big town – but when one comes close, [one sees] that it has been totally ruined. Look what a hideous thing! The ground is full of nothing but ruins, mortar, stone, and other things. And yet the ground produces a bit of grass. There is something good to look at, but it only causes horror, when one sees that everything is pell-mell, that the stones are tossed upside-down among the mortar. One does not see any shape or order, but everything is confused. Thus it is with the image of God in us. It is that we know our ruin, by which we are detestable. This is what we take note of in the first place.213

Nevertheless, even though the tuft of green grass, that is, the remnant of the image, serves to underscore the calamity of the ruin, the grass itself ought not to be scoffed at. Green grass is good regardless of where it is located. In Calvin‟s own words, “But what is still there, the gifts of God, we must not vilify.”214

212 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 326; translation mine. It should not be overlooked that in speaking about God‟s image shining in humans, Calvin here mentions the body (!) before the soul. 213 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 326; translation mine. 214 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 326; translation mine.

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Genesis 9:3–7 By the spring of 1560 Calvin had made it through to the ninth chapter of Genesis in his lectio continua. In this chapter the Lord instructs Noah that no man shall murder another man, since human beings have been created in the image of God. Should anyone raise the objection that the fall effaced the image and consequently nullified that particular deterrent for murder, Calvin responds with an explanation that is similar to the ruined house analogy in his sermon on Genesis 5. However, it still merits separate attention: But however much the image of God has been perverted and effaced, there still remains some remnant. When an image is disfigured, it is still possible to know, at least in part, who is represented [by that image]. It is true that there will be some gouging on the cheek, or damage to one of the eyes, or there will be some other thing, but if one keeps looking, behold, there is an image which represents a certain man. This, then, is how it is today with the image of God in us. It is true that we are poor, blind, [and] walking in darkness, instead of the spiritual clarity which guided and governed our father Adam, so that he was completely conformed to the justice of God. We retain almost nothing of that, so much so that we go our way groping as poor blind men. And instead of well-regulated desires we have exorbitant appetites, more than brute beasts. But in the midst of this, there still always remains in us discretion between good and evil, and we have some judgment. This not only makes us without excuse before God, but our Lord makes use of this in some way, since the pagans themselves have some honesty among themselves. They know that murders, lewd jokes, rapes and pillages are evil things. They condemn them from their natural sense, such that although men are still contemptuous toward God, full of impurity and rebellion, they keep some honesty between themselves. Our Lord therefore values the residue of his image in them.215

Not only is this analogy of the ruined statue pedagogically helpful, but Calvin is even more emphatic in this sermon that the remnant of the imago Dei post lapsum should not be regarded in an exclusively negative light. God himself values that remnant, as residual as it may be.

3.4.3 Formulaire de confession de foy (1559) This confession, sometimes called the Brief Confession,216 serves as a compendium of the Christian faith from the hand of the mature Calvin. The fourth paragraph speaks of the creation of human beings: I confess that man was created in the image of God, i.e., endued with full integrity of spirit, will, and all parts of the soul, faculties, and senses; and that all our corruption,

215 216

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 484–5; translation mine. Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 2.129.

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and the vices under which we labour, proceeded from this, viz., that Adam, the common father of all men, by his rebellion, alienated himself from God, and forsaking the fountain of life and of every blessing, made himself liable to all miseries.217

Several things are worthy of mention in this article of the Formulaire. In the first place, the mature Calvin sees the imago Dei not only as a spiritual reflection of certain divine attributes, but also as the integrity218 of the soul, a word which connotes both soundness and concord. At creation, the faculties of the soul are not only free from any taint of sin, but they also cooperate with each other in a harmonious fashion. Second, the brevity of this confession refocuses attention on an essential aspect of this doctrine; namely, that human beings cannot use their sinful nature as an excuse for their misdeeds, since from the beginning they were not created in perverse iniquity but in perfect innocence. Third, Adam‟s original sin tarnished the image with all manner of miseries, while at the same time, alienating the human race from the Creator. Here again Calvin appears to indicate that the resulting estrangement is even more tragic than the initial transgression. Finally, in delineating how far the consequences of original sin extend, Calvin turns, once more, to his distinction between eternal and earthly things. He writes, “I confess that in original sin are included blindness of mind and perverseness of heart, so that we are utterly spoiled and destitute of those things which relate to eternal life, and even all natural gifts in us are tainted and depraved.”219 By implication, the natural gifts, although depraved, are not utterly destroyed.

3.4.4 De vera participatione (1561) For most of the 1550s John Calvin and Joachim Westphal, a Lutheran minister in Hamburg, engaged in a literary debate concerning the Lord‟s Supper. In particular, they disagreed on the manner of Christ‟s presence in the sacrament.220 At the dawn of the 1560s – which was also the dusk of Calvin‟s theological career – it would seem that Geneva‟s reformer was growing weary of this debate. Yet the whole matter flared up again in Heidelberg when another Lutheran scholar, Tilemann Heshusius, declared that he would be unable to participate in the Lord‟s Supper with Calvin or Bullinger. He subsequently explained his affirmation of the corporeal presence of Christ in De praesentia corporis Christi in coena Domini contra sacramen217

CO 9:723–24; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 2.131. CO 9:723. Fr. integrité. 219 CO 9:723–724; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 2:131; emphasis mine. 220 A succinct account of this debate can be found in de Greef, Writings of John Calvin, 190–3. 218

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tarios (1560). The next year Calvin responded with his Dilucida explicatio sanae doctrinae de vera participatione carnis et sanguinis Christi. In the middle of this treatise, the doctrine of the imago Dei makes an unexpected appearance. In defence of his position, Heshusius had quoted from the church father Epiphanius. However, Calvin turns this patristic authority against his Lutheran rival by indicating that, in fact, Epiphanius maintained a clear distinction between the sacramental bread on the table and Christ‟s body in heaven. His explanation runs as follows: This writer [Epiphanius], discoursing on how man is created in the image of God, says: If it is understood of the body, there cannot be a proper likeness between what is visible and palpable, and the Spirit which is invisible and incomprehensible; whereas, if it refers to the soul, there is a great difference, because the soul, being liable to many weaknesses and defects, does not contain the divinity within itself. He therefore concludes that God, who is incomprehensible, truly performs what he bestows upon men in respect of his image. He afterward adds: “And how many things are deduced from the like! For we see how our Saviour took the cup into his hands, as it is recorded in the Gospel, how he rose up at the Supper, and took, and after giving thanks said: That is this of mine [sic]. But we see that it is not equal to or like either a corporeal shape, or an invisible deity, or bodily members; for it is round and, as to feeling, insensible. He wished by grace to say: That is this of mine [sic]; and no man refuses credence to his words. For he who believes not that he is true in what he said, has fallen from grace and from faith.” Let the reader attend to the state of the case. Epiphanius contends that, though not at all the same, yet the image of God truly shines in man, just as the bread is truly called body. 221

The above citation demonstrates that Calvin, following Epiphanius, employs the imago Dei as an aide in that most contentious issue between the German Lutherans and the Swiss Reformed, namely, the presence of Christ at the Holy Supper. In the imago Dei a particularly close connection is established between God and humans. Nevertheless, the connection does not nullify the difference: the human does not become divine and the divine does not become human. Calvin takes this example of connection-yetdistinction in the anthropological locus and uses it in the sacramental locus, an area of doctrine that certainly needed all the assistance it could receive in the sixteenth century.

221 CO 9:498; John Calvin, Theological Treatises, ed. J.K.S. Reid (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1954), 301.

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3.4.5 Testament de Calvin (1564) It is somehow fitting that Calvin should include a reference to the imago Dei in his final document, his last will and testament. After all, he also wrote about it in his first theological writings, the Psychopannychia and the Épître à tous amateurs. In his testament Calvin begins by thanking the Lord for the grace bestowed upon him throughout his life. His gratitude focuses upon his own inclusion in God‟s family, since he has “no other hope nor refuge except in his gratuitous adoption, upon which all my salvation in the Lord is founded.”222 Echoes of his Romans commentary are ringing loudly and clearly here.223 Shortly after referring to his adoption as one of God‟s children, he continues by praying for God “to wash and cleanse me by the blood of this great Redeemer, which has been shed for us poor sinners, that I may appear before his face, bearing as it were his image.”224 Here he is obviously thinking of the imago Dei in its final, consummate glory, a state to which Calvin eagerly aspired as he lay on his death bed. Evidently, the doctrine of God‟s image, which has so much to do with protology, also has everything to do with eschatology. Omega becomes the imago of alpha.

3.5 Thematic Overview Having made the journey, along with Calvin, from his first theological treatise right through until his final will and testament, it is now time to stop, turn around, and look back over the territory we have covered. This time, though, the observations will be arranged thematically rather than chronologically.

3.5.1 The imago Dei at creation 3.5.1.1 Location and Definition While refuting certain Anabaptists who were teaching the sleep, or even the death, of the soul after physical death, Calvin inks one of his earliest descriptions of the imago Dei. This polemical context is crucial for it shapes the contours of his definition. In the Psychopannychia, he identifies the human soul, and only the soul, as the seat of God‟s image. That Calvin focuses so exclusively upon the soul is not entirely surprising since the 222

CO 20:299; Calvin, Letters, 4:366. See section 3.2.6 above. 224 CO 20:299; Calvin, Letters, 4:366. 223

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debate with these psychoktonoi was all about that very topic: the soul. By the same token, this does not mean that Calvin is incapable of modifying his position as he matures in his study of Scripture and engages in different debates. In fact, beginning with his commentary on Genesis, he opens the door slightly to include some scintillations of the image in the human body as well. Moreover, he holds onto this amended understanding right into his final edition of the Institutes, even though he also maintains his conviction that the similitude of God is to be located primarily and predominantly in the soul. Yet what is the exact nature of this similarity between God and humans at creation? For Calvin there is little to no difference between image and likeness. Therefore, beginning with his earliest writings, and continuing through to his final ones, he depicts the image as a likeness of attributes. Just as God is just, wise, holy, good, and immortal – to name but a few divine attributes – so also Adam and Eve were created to be just, wise, holy, good, and immortal. The list of attributes which Calvin mentions differs somewhat from one writing to another. Presumably, this is due to stylistic variation more than anything else. Yet the overall definition of the image of God is apparent: at creation God gave human beings spiritual qualities and capabilities which reflected his own divine attributes and excellencies. As a result, even though there are many creatures which may fill the eye with marvel, human beings stand tall above them all as a “masterpiece in which one could view a unique excellence.”225 It is significant that the imago Dei established similarity, not equality. Calvin firmly resists any suggestion that human beings might participate in the divine essence. Furthermore, even the attributes themselves are not equal. For example, God is infinitely wise in and of himself, whereas Adam and Eve received their finite wisdom as an entrusted endowment from the Lord. Calvin‟s restriction of the imago Dei to the realm of attributive similitude is focused all the more sharply by the controversy in the 1550s with Servetus. Calvin accused Servetus of wandering toward the Manichaean doctrine of the soul‟s emanation from God. On another occasion, Geneva‟s reformer employed this same line of demarcation between similarity and equality, or identity, in order to assist in explaining the presence of Christ at the Holy Supper. Calvin explains that just as the imago Dei does not include a fusion of essence, so also a symbolic connection between the bread and the body of Christ does not imply a substantial identification of the two. In this way the doctrine of creation aids in other areas of theology. Calvin also advances his definition of the image of God in several other respects as he continues to work with this doctrine. In the first place, start225

Calvin, Épître, 25.

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ing with the 1537 catechism, he puts increasing emphasis on the original, ordained purpose of the imago Dei. In other words, the unto what is just as important as the what. God created human beings in his likeness in order that they should honour and adore him who is the Giver of such excellent gifts. It is evident, therefore, that Calvin‟s understanding of the image of God is not merely ontological, but, over time, becomes increasingly relational. Second, this stress on the telos of the imago also fits within the Father-children analogy which he uses, on a number of occasions, to describe this doctrine.226 Children have a duty to honour their earthly father, and, all the more so, their heavenly Father. Finally, whereas in his earlier writings Calvin spoke mostly of the attributive similarity between God and human beings, as time goes on he also highlights the overall integrity of these attributes. God‟s own justice, wisdom, and love all work together in flawless collaboration. Likewise, at creation God fashioned all the faculties and attributes of Adam‟s soul to work cohesively and cooperatively. In fact, even the senses of his body were designed to function in unencumbered harmony with the intellect and will of the soul.

3.5.1.2 Dominion and Distinction Chrysostom, the renowned preacher and church father, held that the image of God ought to be understood as God‟s original commission that Adam and Eve should rule over all the creatures of field and forest, sea and sky. Moreover, it is not difficult to see how Chrysostom reached that conclusion, for Scripture speaks of both sovereignty and similitude all within one and the same verse, namely, Genesis 1:26. However, Calvin will have nothing to do with this particular interpretation – at least not at first. Perhaps in an effort to block any exegetical escape route for the psychoktonoi, Calvin initially focuses the image of God solely and exclusively in the human soul. So long as the seat of the imago Dei is firmly located in the human soul, it is inconceivable, in Calvin‟s mind, that one day the soul would simply vanish from existence like a morning mist under a noonday sun. Hence it makes sense that he is averse to any suggestion of relocating the image of God into the dominion over creation, or relocating it anywhere else for that matter. At the same time, as the decades rolled ahead, Calvin was faced with more opponents than just the psychoktonoi. He also continued to study the Scriptures and eventually he was willing to concede that the dominion mandate is a small part of the original imago Dei.

226 Calvin uses the Father-children analogy in the Épître à tous amateurs, but also in various commentaries and most notably in his Genesis and Job sermons.

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Connected to the question of human sovereignty over other creatures is also the matter of human superiority over the animals. With the psychoktonoi, but also with the Libertines and others, Calvin had the distinct impression that, for all intents and purposes, they regarded the human soul as more or less equal to an animal soul. According to some radical reformers, a human may have a different body than a horse, and a human may be more intelligent than a horse, but essentially the spirit of one was not much different from the other. Such teaching did not sit well with Calvin. Both in the created state and the fallen state, Calvin insisted that the human soul was both quantitatively different (more intelligence and more sense of morality) and qualitatively different (immortal versus mortal) than the spirits of the animals.

3.5.1.3 Father and Children In his preface to Olivetan‟s translation of the New Testament, Calvin describes the relationship between God and Adam as that of a father and his “very dear child.”227 One might assume that this is nothing more than a literary device, were it not for the frequency and manner with which this metaphor appears in his other writings. After briefly alluding to the Fatherchildren analogy in the second edition of his Institutes, Calvin presents it in a more substantial way during the course of his comments on Romans 8. In that commentary he asserts that salvation consists of adoption. By doing so, he affirms that the Father-children relationship is an integral part of the restoration of the imago Dei. The question remains, though, whether or not human beings should be regarded as God‟s children already in paradise. The answer to that question begins in Calvin‟s commentary on Hebrews, when he states that “in the beginning God appointed man, as his son, the heir of all his possessions.” 228 This is also confirmed in the commentary on Genesis and further expounded in his commentary on Acts. Particularly in the latter, Calvin even suggests that after the fall into sin all human beings can still be called children of God, but only in a general and limited sense, since some small remnants of the original image remain in them. Properly speaking, though, in the post lapsum era, the title of “God‟s children” belongs to those who are united to Christ by faith.229 Finally, in his later years, Calvin preaches about the imago Dei, making extensive use of the Father-children analogy in his sermons on Job, and 227

Calvin, Épître, 25–6. CO 55:11; translation and emphasis mine. 229 CO 48:418; Calvin, Commentaries, 19:170. 228

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particularly in his sermons on Genesis. In his sermon on Genesis 1:26–28 this analogy shapes both the beginning and ending of his homily. Furthermore, in the course of the sermon, Geneva‟s preacher plainly states that by creating Adam and Eve in his image and by endowing them with many virtues and gifts, God was providing “signs and marks, to demonstrate that the human race is as the lineage of God, just as St. Paul proves with the saying from the pagan poet in 17th chapter of Acts: „we are his descendants.‟”230 With these words, Calvin indicates decisively that the imago Dei at creation includes a Father-children relationship between God and human beings. Since the abovementioned sermon was preached in 1559, it is intriguing that this felicitous analogy is not explicitly found in his final Institutes. One of the key passages, Acts 17:28, is mentioned231 but little is made of it. Why did Geneva‟s reformer make a clear connection between the image of God and the Father-children relationship in his sermons on Job and Genesis, while in his Institutes he hardly broaches the topic? In the first place, as Calvin stood in the pulpit of St. Pierre, with many fathers, mothers, and children before him, it was a natural and fitting occasion to expound upon the image of God in terms of the familiar relationship between a father and his children. Preachers frequently use analogies to make their point. By contrast, that same analogy might have seemed less apropos in the Institutes, which were penned also with a view to preparing future pastors and “candidates in sacred theology.”232 Second, while explicating the doctrine of the imago Dei in the final Institutes, Calvin is keen to interact with the anthropological views that had recently flowed from the pens of Osiander and Servetus, both of whom dabbled in the Manichaean notion of the soul‟s emanation from divine essence. As the author of the Institutes had his mind focused, at that moment, upon refuting the teachings of those two men, it may well be that the Father-children analogy retreated to the background of his cogitation. Third, a non-hagiographical portrait of John Calvin ought to include the commonsense observation that this man – who was often overtaxed with a heavy burden of work and under the weather with various bodily ailments – did not manage to maintain perfect cohesion and consistency in all his writings. Neither should anyone expect such infallibility from a mere mortal. In the end, though, Calvin‟s treatment of the imago Dei provides a compelling example of why this reformer‟s theology ought to be distilled from his entire literary corpus, and not merely his Institutes. Therefore, looking 230

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 57; translation mine. CO 2:129–140; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5. See also Calvin, Institutes, 1.5.3 232 See “Preface to the Reader” in Calvin, Institutes, 4. 231

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particularly to his commentaries and sermons, it is evident that the Fatherchildren relationship between God and the human race is an integral, although heretofore largely overlooked, part of Calvin‟s understanding of the imago Dei.

3.5.1.4 Male and Female In the course of publishing his commentaries, Calvin eventually came to the first letter of Paul to the church in Corinth. Moreover, in the course of producing that particular commentary, he arrived at the eleventh chapter of that epistle. Some years later he also preached from this chapter which presented him with a crux interpretum. On the one hand, the obvious sense of Gen 1:27 is that both male and female alike were created in the image of God. On the other hand, the apparent implication of 1 Cor 11:7 is that only man is the image of God, while woman is the glory of man. Calvin needed to address, rather than avoid, this exegetical conundrum because in the sixteenth century the topic of gender relations was a pressing issue, as evidenced in the literature of la querelle des femmes. Calvin begins by appealing to his oft-employed distinction between the two realms of life: the earthly, external, or political 233 realm versus the heavenly, eternal, or redemptive realm. Using this distinction, he explains that in 1 Cor 11 the Apostle Paul is speaking exclusively about the realm of “external arrangement and political decorum.”234 The apostle says that “the head of the woman is man” and that “woman ought to have a sign of authority on her head.” Calvin says that this refers to the social order which God ordained for men and women, an order which also ought to be reflected in the outward dress and decorum of women, particularly when they arrive for worship in church. Furthermore, in his sermon on this chapter, St. Pierre‟s preacher makes the interesting point that in 1 Cor 11:3 “the head of the woman is man” must be understood in conjunction with “the head of Christ is God.” Christ‟s submission to the Father is a most blessed and beneficial submission. Likewise, the headship of man over women, when it is understood in the aforementioned Christocentric manner, can be viewed in a more positive light. By the same token, the headship of men does not undermine or diminish the fact that women, just like men, are created and restored in the image of God. In fact, in a public sermon, delivered to the congregation in Geneva on 9 September 1559, Calvin declared, “we can see that man is created – not 233 See section 3.2.3 for an explanation of Calvin‟s use of the term “political” which seems atypical compared to common usage of the term in our era. 234 CO 49:474; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:354.

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just male only, but also female – so that both carry the image of God.”235 This position, first penned in a commentary and later proclaimed from the pulpit, also found its way into his final Institutes.236 Thus, as this small example demonstrates, although the Institutes are important background reading for the commentaries, it is also true that Calvin‟s exegetical labours in his commentaries informed, or even altered, the content of his Institutes.

3.5.2 The imago Dei after the fall 3.5.2.1 Ruined or eradicated? Just as Calvin uses positive superlatives to describe human beings as they were created, so he also uses negative superlatives to portray the condition of God‟s image after the fall into sin. Particularly in his earlier writings he stresses that, outside of Eden, the likeness of God in humans is erased, effaced, and obliterated. In short, the onset of sin was the end of the imago Dei. Furthermore, while there was a close, caring, and even paternal relationship between God and Adam and Eve at creation, the fall alienated human beings from their Creator. As the imago Dei was demolished, the relationship was also destroyed. Such is the tone of Calvin‟s Épître à tous amateurs and the first edition of his Institutes. Although Calvin remained emphatic about the devastating effects of the fall, he did qualify his language over time. The immediate cause for this change appears to be his exegesis of various scriptural texts such as Genesis 9:6 and James 3:9 which, at face value, assume the ongoing existence of the image of God, even in the fallen state. Taking these passages into account, in the final edition of his Institutes Calvin says, “God‟s image […] was subsequently so vitiated and almost blotted out that nothing remains after the ruin except what is confused, mutilated, and disease-ridden.”237 In other words, the imago Dei is still ruined, but it is not utterly eradicated. With eradication not a trace remains, but with ruins a remnant still lingers. Calvin‟s cautious retreat from speaking about an entirely effaced image was prompted by his polemics with Roman Catholics and radical reformers alike. He was particularly disturbed by the manner in which the Libertines, like Anthony Pocquet, attribute nothing to the human will, to the point that they turned people into amoral automatons. Such denigration of human beings Calvin could not abide. By the same token, he also realized that if he continued to speak about the total obliteration of the imago Dei, then he 235

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 63. CO 2:138–139; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4. 237 CO 2:138–139; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4; emphasis mine. 236

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would leave himself open for papal theologians, like Albert Pighius, to allege that he was teaching exactly the same doctrines as the Libertines. Therefore, Calvin‟s challenge is to stress the devastating effects of the fall, thereby closing the door to synergism, while at the same time acknowledging the lingering remnants, so as to head off the charge of fatalistic determinism. It took some time, and a few corrective turns, but eventually he seems to have found a path that avoids those two pitfalls.

3.5.2.2 The remnant Having settled in his own mind that a remnant of God‟s image still persists after the advent of iniquity, it also fell to Calvin to explain exactly what these lingering traces are. One of his most elaborate delineations of the remnant appears in his commentary on Psalm 8: The reason with which they are endued, and by which they can distinguish between good and evil; the principle of religion which is planted in them; their intercourse with each other, which is preserved from being broken up by certain sacred bonds; the regard to what is becoming, and the sense of shame which guilt awakens in them, as well as their continuing to be governed by laws; all these things are clear indications of pre-eminent and celestial wisdom.238

In sum, the conscience, the light of nature, the sense of justice, the appreciation of beauty, and the desire for stability are all things which can be found throughout the human race. These qualities in humanity are indicative of original endowment which the Creator bestowed in the beginning. A potential difficulty looms, though, concerning how much fallen, unregenerate human beings are able to do with this remnant of the imago Dei. Will they be able to make at least a few tentative steps down the road of redemption on their own? Calvin‟s answer to that question is resolutely in the negative. Moreover, he uses this occasion to lean once more on his distinction between earthly and heavenly things. Concerning earthly things, such as the pursuit of science or the preservation of social order, men and women may use the remnant for beneficial and laudable goals. However, concerning the heavenly things, such as righteousness before God and eternal life, the lingering lineaments of God‟s likeness are entirely unable to propel anyone along the path of salvation. According to Calvin, in the realm of spiritual things, the Spirit himself must initiate true renewal.

238

CO 31:91; Calvin, Commentaries, 4:102.

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3.5.3 The imago Dei restored in Christ 3.5.3.1 Christ is the Image When speaking of Christ, Calvin is wont to say that he is “the lively and express image of God.”239 Obviously, by using the terms “lively” and “express,” Geneva‟s theologian is indicating that Christ is the image of God in an even greater manner than Adam and Eve were in the beginning. Of himself God is invisible and his glory is too bright for the naked eye to behold. Nonetheless, God does reveal his majesty through his Son, Jesus Christ. It is true, Calvin acknowledges, that the divine glory is also revealed in a certain way through human beings who were created in his image. Yet, since they are merely creatures, they cannot reflect his glory as fully and sufficiently as God‟s own eternal Son. The superiority of Christ as the image of the invisible God is seen in three aspects. First, whereas human beings in paradise only had an attributive similarity to their heavenly Father, Christ is the same as his eternal Father in both attributes and essence. Second, although humans reflect the wisdom, righteousness, and mercy of God in a finite and creaturely way, the Son is able to fully reveal the Father‟s excellencies in all their infinite perfection. Third, as Calvin explains in his sermon on Gen 1:26–28, to observe the Father‟s glory in a human being is like looking at a reflection in a mirror; however, to behold the Father‟s glory in Christ is to see it, as it were, face-to-face. Given the unrefined state of mirrors in the sixteenth century vis-à-vis the modern era, it is evident that the human reflection of divine glory pales in comparison to Christ‟s revelation of the Father‟s majesty.

3.5.3.2 Christ Restores the Image For Calvin the work of Christ consists of more than satisfying the justice of God and obtaining forgiveness for sinners. The Saviour‟s work is just as restorative as it is redemptive. Furthermore, ever since the fall into sin, it is the imago Dei which is in desperate need of restoration. Accordingly, Christ, through the Spirit, re-establishes that attributive similarity between God and all those who call upon him in sincere faith. In and through Christ, they again begin to reflect the righteousness, wisdom, truth, and mercy of God. In addition, Christ renews the Father-children relationship which was shattered by sin; for as Calvin states in his commentary on Romans 8, it is “gratuitous adoption in which our salvation consists.”240

239 240

CO 23:9–10; Lat. viva et expressa sit illius effigies. CO 49:150; Calvin, Commentaries, 19:318.

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Mindful of philosophers and schoolmen who admired the intellect as the faculty least scathed by sin, Calvin is quick to indicate that the Apostle Paul singles out the mind as the first endowment of the soul that needs to be renewed (Eph 4:22). Moreover, Christ not only restores each faculty of the soul, but he reintegrates all these faculties so that what became chaotic through the fall becomes harmonious once again. Indeed, the restorative work of Christ even introduces a new element into the image of God. Since believers reflect the likeness of God through Christ, the imago Dei includes the imago Christi. This, in turn, means that as Christ was willing to suffer for others on the path to full and final glory, so also Christians reflect that willingness to endure hardship, even if they themselves are innocent. In this way, Christ‟s restoration of the imago Dei also entails an expansion of it. Glancing back over the personal letters in which Calvin writes about the image of God, it is striking how he uses the restoration of God‟s image to encourage the recipients of his correspondence. In his letter to Duke Somerset, he regards ongoing reformation in God‟s image as the best defence against the accusation that reformers are rebellious seditionists. Furthermore, in his missive to the French-speaking church in Antwerp, he spurs the congregation on to patient perseverance, telling them that though they may be discouraged by their present circumstances, the transformation into Christ‟s image will end in the richness of divine glory. Thus, it is clear that the restoration of the imago Dei was much more than an abstract doctrine. Instead, it was a bubbling fountain of refreshing consolation in the midst of daily life, which was often filled with more desert than oasis. Indeed, as his last will and testament reveals, it was from this fountain that Calvin moistened the parched tongue of his soul as he lay upon his deathbed.

3.6 A Comparison of Calvin and his Theological Forefathers Even though the Reformation of the sixteenth century produced a new generation of theologians, every generation is, of necessity, born within a genealogy. The new generation of reform-minded theologians was no exception to that rule, and neither was Calvin. By the same token, posterity is never simply a carbon copy of paternity. Therefore, as stated in the previous chapter, it is reasonable to expect that Calvin will show signs of both continuity and discontinuity with his theological forebears.241 1. Concerning the seat of the image of God, Calvin stands steadfastly in line with the vast majority of church fathers and medieval theologi241 The summary of patristic and medieval teaching about the image of God, presented in section 2.4, forms the basis for this comparison between Calvin and earlier theologians.

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ans who located this image in the soul. What is perhaps more intriguing is that as Calvin matures in his own understanding of scriptural anthropology he opens the door, ever so slightly, to allow certain glimpses of God‟s image in the human body. In this regard, he is also keeping an open mind to the insights of Origen, Augustine, and Aquinas who included the body in their own reflections on the image of God. 2. When Calvin defines precisely what the image of God is, he takes an approach which is distinct from those who went before him. Throughout much of the patristic and medieval epoch, preachers and teachers within the church held that the primary likeness between God and the human race was that people have intellects and wills just like the Creator himself. Calvin agrees that the two main faculties of the soul are the intellect and the will. At the same time, he depicts the similarity between Creator and human being as much more than that. He sees the full spectrum of divine perfections – God‟s wisdom, justice, goodness, mercy, truth, power, love, and immortality – reflected in Adam and Eve. Consequently, Calvin endeavours to present a more robust definition of the image, following in the footsteps of Athanasius, Augustine, and Aquinas, who also attempted to expand the image beyond the mere possession of intellect and will. 3. Calvin also differs from most church fathers and schoolmen in how he treats the connection between image (imago) and likeness (similitudo). Almost all of his predecessors promoted a difference between the two. They taught that the similitudo refers to the original righteousness, which was lost through the fall into sin, while the imago denotes the various innate capacities (e.g., the ability to know God, love God and choose what is right), which were retained, even after the fall. For Calvin that distinction is exegetically unsustainable. As a result the doctrinal edifices built upon it lack any solid foundation. In this respect, the preacher of Geneva agreed with the bishop of Hippo, who also rejected the imago-similitudo distinction. This does not mean, though, that Calvin always slavishly followed Augustine‟s lead. It should be noted that Augustine‟s theory of the anthropological trinity, adopted and expanded by numerous scholars in the Middle Ages, was dismissed by Calvin as fruitless speculation. Evidently, he was also prepared to disagree with that forebear of formidable bearing whom he cherished so dearly. 4. Another church father of considerable stature with whom Calvin begged to differ was Chrysostom. The latter identified the imago Dei with the mandate that God gave to Adam and Eve to rule over all

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creation. At first, Calvin had no patience for this proposal. However, later on, he was willing to reconsider his stance. He conceded that dominion is a very small part of the image of God. 5. Both patristic and medieval theologians alike struggled with the matter of God‟s image and gender, particularly in connection with Genesis 1 and 1 Corinthians 11. For instance, when commenting on Genesis 1, the Cappadocian brothers were eager to assert that both genders reflected the image of God, but when examining 1 Corinthians 11, those same Cappadocians could only conclude that men – unlike women – held the imago Dei. Calvin, too, made his attempt to resolve this apparent contradiction. He did so by restricting the words of the Apostle Paul to the realm of social order and decorum within worship. By contrast, in all matters pertaining to eternal salvation, he maintains that both men and women are equal before God and share in his image. Whether or not all will agree with Calvin‟s exegesis of 1 Corinthians 11, the fact remains that he endeavoured to resolve the difficulty, whereas many of his forerunners simply let the discrepancy stand. 6. Turning to the state of the imago Dei after the fall into sin, there were two main strands in the early church. First there were those, like Athanasius and Augustine, who were profoundly pessimistic about the ability of sinners, in and of themselves, to do anything of genuine merit in God‟s eyes. Yet, there were also others, such as Pelagius and even Irenaeus, who held a much brighter, optimistic view of the abilities of human beings post lapsum. Both of these streams flowed through the Middle Ages as well. Of the two, Calvin certainly identified with the first. To his way of thinking, sinners should be humbled by their corruption instead of elevating themselves on the basis of their innate capacities. At the same time, like his mentor Augustine, Calvin slowly grew to understand that, if nothing else, the more optimistic anthropology of men like Irenaeus stood as a worthwhile reminder that fallen human beings are still human. They do not become ignorant beasts, let alone inanimate boulders. Still, and on this point Calvin wishes to be firm, whatever remnant of the imago Dei humans may retain after the fall, it can only bring benefit within the earthly realm of civil order and social justice. It cannot merit any heavenly righteousness, let alone eternal life. This distinction between the heavenly and earthly realms is already found in the church fathers (e.g., the Cappadocians) and the scholastici (e.g., Anselm). All the same, Calvin develops it in his own particular manner.

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7. Nearly all the patristic and medieval teachers concurred that Christ is the image of God in a uniquely superior way. Without hesitation Calvin added his voice to that consensus. Many of the Fathers, particularly those from the East, also emphasized that the restoration of God‟s image in believers by Christ was a matter of being progressively transformed from glory to glory. Again, Calvin unreservedly agreed. Geneva‟s reformer decisively disagrees, though, with the notion of theosis. Theosis, or deification, was a somewhat tangential, yet tenacious, teaching that the restoration of the imago Dei would eventually allow human beings to participate in the very essence and substance of God himself. Here is where Calvin drew a sharp line in the sand. Unlike Gregory of Nazianzen or Nicholas of Cusa, Calvin asserted that while Christ makes sinful human beings resemble God, they will never become God. 8. One final matter ought to be mentioned. Calvin describes the imago Dei as a Father-children relationship that God first established with Adam and Eve in paradise and that God re-establishes in believers through the Spirit of adoption. It goes without saying that many theologians speak of God as the heavenly Father and believers as God‟s adopted children. However, at least so far as this present author can determine, Calvin is one of the first to draw such a strong and direct link between imago Dei and filii Dei.

3.7 Conclusions At the outset of this chapter five goals were delineated. It is now time to assess our discoveries in relation to those initial aims. 1. The first goal was to patiently and chronologically walk along with Calvin, in order to develop our understanding of his teaching in the same way that he developed his own comprehension of the imago Dei, that is, step by step rather than instantaneously. Although this is not the fastest way to ascertain the reformer‟s view, it appears to have been a fruitful one. In the first place, our perambulation through the Calvini opera has revealed that his understanding of the imago Dei was not stagnant, but always subject to correction and amelioration. Unequivocal statements of his youth were qualified as he matured. The eventual inclusion of the body in the image of God is a case in point. Aspects which were initially overlooked were added later. For example, in due time he expanded the scope of the imago

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Dei to embrace the sufferings of Christ. This sequential expedition through Calvin‟s writings has also highlighted the importance of the polemical context of his words. From the start, Calvin‟s understanding of the imago Dei was forged in the fire of his refutation of the psychoktonoi. At times his rhetorical fervour led him to make overstatements which he had to qualify later. Yet this is also part of the normal process of maturation through which all people, including theologians, go. And Calvin was the first to admit it.242 2. The second aim was to determine whether Calvin‟s anthropology steadily improves or slowly devolves into incoherence. For the most part, there is evidence of progress. Perhaps the most telling testimony in this regard is how he deals with the imago Dei after the fall. At first Calvin averred that Adam‟s sin utterly obliterated God‟s image. When it became apparent to him that this conviction was going to run aground on the sandbar of Gen 9:6 or Jas 3:9, he altered his course and began to speak about the remnant of the image which can still be found throughout the human race. Yet that amelioration only raised another issue: how could the imago Dei, on the one hand, be ruined and yet, on the other hand, still remain. At first this was not entirely clear in Calvin‟s writings. However, by 1559, when he preached his series of sermons from Genesis, Calvin offered a respectably cogent solution to that dilemma in his analogies of the ruined town and the vandalized statue. In short, although Calvin‟s anthropology was far from perfect, it did, for the most part, progress and improve. 3. The third objective was to identify any significant milestones within the development of Calvin‟s understanding of the imago Dei. This kind of analysis is unavoidably subjective; nevertheless, it can also be useful. During the time of “Laying the Foundations: 1534–1542,” as we have entitled it, Calvin‟s most significant writing on the imago Dei is the second edition of his Institutes, published in 1539. Other writings of the era, particularly the Psychopannychia, may have more content, but the 1539 Institutes serve as a culmination point where Calvin draws together all his research up to that point in time and presents it in a succinct fashion. The second phase, “Building, Expanding, and Improving: 1543–1558” is filled with many documents. Yet the ones that rise above the rest are his commentaries on Genesis and Acts, as well as his sermons on Job. All three of them hail from the year 1554. In his Genesis commentary Calvin provides a more comprehensive treatment of the imago Dei than he had in any 242

CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 28–9.

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previous writing. Furthermore, both in the commentary on Acts and the sermons on Job, the whole connection between imago Dei and filii Dei seems to solidify in his mind. Finally, in the last phase, “Finishing Touches: 1559–1564,” the undisputed place of honour must be given to his Sermons sur la Genèse, preached from the pulpit of St. Pierre in 1559. Actually, concerning the image of God, there is very little in these sermons which Calvin has not stated previously in some other document. Nevertheless, the unique aspect of these sermons is how he skilfully pulls all the loose threads together and explains this doctrine in a way that children could begin to grasp it, yet adults would be still challenged by it. Without a doubt, the Sermons sur la Genèse are a rich, heretofore underexploited, resource for Calvin‟s view of the image of God. 4. The fourth aim was to evaluate, at least provisionally, whether Calvin is unduly pessimistic about the capacities and capabilities of the human race. To begin with, the precise objective must be more carefully determined. Which state is being evaluated? Calvin view‟s of the human race at creation? Or after the fall? Or during the restoration by Christ? Until the point of comparison is properly pinpointed the evaluation will remain hopelessly confused. If Calvin‟s description of the human race in the state of created integrity is in view, then it is clear that he has an exceedingly positive appraisal of human beings. The superlatives he regularly employs are phrases like “highly celebrated”243 and “a masterpiece in which one could view a unique excellence.”244 Similarly, in the state of restoration Calvin stresses that the Spirit is doing a spectacular work of sanctification as “God makes his glory shine forth in us little by little.”245 Once again, it is remarkably positive language. As expected, the deprecations that disturb some readers are found in Calvin‟s description of the fallen state, when, for example, he calls man “a five-foot worm.”246 It is true, that Calvin, like anyone else, could get swept away by the swift current of his own rhetoric.247 By the same token, references to worms and vile corruption must be balanced with other statements which Calvin makes, particularly about the remnant of the imago. Although he will not tolerate any shift in the direction of synergism, he also has no sympathy for the likes of the Libertines, who turned 243

CO 5:181; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:423. Calvin, Épître, 25; translation mine. 245 CO 50:47; Calvin, Commentaries, 20:187. 246 CO 2:44; OS 3:47–48; Calvin, Institutes, 1.5.4. 247 Although it should also be said that many of Calvin‟s similes and metaphors come from Scripture. The “five-foot worm” is an allusion to passages such as Job 25:6 and Ps 22:6. 244

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responsible human beings into rigid chess pieces that were being moved to and fro on the cosmic board of history by the fatalistic force of divine coercion. Nota bene: it is Calvin who preaches to his congregation that even after the tragic devastation of the fall, “what is still there, the gifts of God, we must not vilify,”248 since “our Lord […] values the residue of his image in them [the pagans].”249 5. The fifth and final goal was to analyze Calvin‟s understanding of the image of God in relation to those who went before him. In sum, when Calvin is compared and contrasted to his theological ancestors in the ancient and medieval church, the careful observer will see substantial continuity, selective discontinuity, and occasional ingenuity.

248 249

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 326; translation mine. Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 485; translation mine.

4. Humanitas in studia humanitatis

Ohne Humanismus keine Reformation. That is, at least, how Bernd Moeller saw things in a seminal essay he wrote around the midpoint of the previous century.1 The validity of his evaluation is still a topic of ongoing discussion today.2 Most scholars concur, though, that the Reformation of the sixteenth century was linked to, and drew resources from, Renaissance humanism which was making inroads all over Europe. Investigating the entire, intricate relationship between the two movements would exceed the scope of this study. Rather, the present goal is to explore what impact Renaissance humanism had on John Calvin, and more specifically, upon his understanding of the nature of humanity and the imago Dei.

4.1 Calvin‟s Contact with Renaissance Humanism 4.1.1 Instructors with Humanist Inclinations In the spring of 1529, at the age of nineteen, a man known as Jean Cauvin journeyed from Orléans to Bourges. At the time, and in accordance with his father‟s desires, he was busy preparing to become a lawyer. By all accounts it was an exciting era for judicial studies, and for higher education as a whole, in France. The winds of pedagogy were shifting – gradually, yet discernibly and undeniably. One year earlier King Francis I had summoned the accomplished Italian jurist, Andrea Alciati (1492–1550), to come and teach law at the university in Bourges.3 In the course of time, this native of Milan would become the founder of legal humanism in France. Intrigued by the arrival of this new professor, Calvin and his friend François Daniel eagerly set their feet in the direction of Bourges in order to sit at Alciati‟s

1 Bernd Moeller, “Die deutschen Humanisten und die Anfänge der Reformation,” ZKG 70 (1959): 59. 2 A brief bibliographic survey of the debate can be found in Erika Rummel, The Confessionalization of Humanism in Reformation Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 154; especially see note 5 in Rummel‟s book. Also see Riemer Faber, “The Humanism of Melanchthon and of Calvin,” in Melanchthon und der Calvinismus, ed. Günter Frank and Herman J. Selderhuis (Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog, 2005), 26–7. 3 Bernard Cottret, Calvin: A Biography (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 22.

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feet.4 Under his tutelage they would explore the implications of Renaissance humanism upon the principles and practice of law. The Milanese pedagogue also insisted that verbosity was unbecoming among his students. Rather, brevity was befitting for aspiring barristers of worth.5 However, Alciati was not the first, nor the only, teacher who instructed the young legal student from Noyon in the methods and manner of the studia humanitatis. Already before Bourges, in his earlier studies at Collège de la Marche in Paris, Calvin‟s Latin instructor, Maturin Cordier (1480– 1564), tirelessly etched into the minds of his pupils not only vocabulary and verbal conjugations, but also a passion for correct Latin style, free from all Gallicisms.6 Similarly, Melchior Wolmar (1497–1561), Calvin‟s Greek instructor at Orléans and Bourges, inculcated his students with much more than the mere mechanics of the language. He imparted to them a love for ancient Greek literature in all its bounty and beauty.7 Moreover, after his time in Bourges, Calvin also advanced his knowledge of Greek literature under the tutelage of Pierre Danès, one of the socalled “Royal Lecturers” in Paris. Spurred on by the famous French humanist, Guillaume Budé (1467–1540), King Francis I had appointed five new professors, the regii interpretes, as a counter-balance to the staid approach of the lecturers at the Sorbonne.8 Once again, where the new pedagogy of the Renaissance emerged in France, there Calvin was also to be found. Evidently, careful attention to the written word, keen sensitivity for rhetorical nuance, and consistent striving after succinctness – all hallmarks of humanism – were impressed upon the future reformer from an early age.

4.1.2 The Seneca Commentary (1532) It is one thing to learn about the techniques of the studia humanitatis. It is quite another to put them into practice. Nevertheless, Calvin was eager to try, and he did so in his first publication, Commentary on Seneca‟s De 4 Ford Lewis Battles and André Malan Hugo, “Introduction,” in Calvin‟s Commentary on Seneca‟s De Clementia (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1969), 19–21; Robert D. Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism: The First Generation,” CH 44 (1975): 169; Cottret, Calvin, 21–2. 5 Cottret, Calvin, 22. 6 Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism,” 169; Cottret, Calvin, 15–6. Later, in the preface to his commentary on First Thessalonians, Calvin would acknowledge the lifelong benefit he received from Cordier‟s teaching (CO 13:525–526). 7 Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism,” 169; Cottret, Calvin, 23. Calvin dedicated his commentary on 2 Corinthians to Wolmar. In the dedication he indicates that in addition to studying legal Hellenistic texts, Wolmar introduced them, more generally, to the graecas literas (CO 12:364– 365). 8 Battles and Hugo, “Introduction,” 3–4; Cottret, Calvin, 53–6.

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Clementia.9 For the budding legal scholar, writing his first full-length book was akin to the writhing of a woman giving birth to a child.10 Yet through this academic anguish, he matured as a man of letters in various ways. In the first place, Calvin gained a deep appreciation for the insights of one of Paris‟ own native sons, Guillaume Budé. He esteemed Budé as “the first ornament and pillar of literature,” while relegating no one less than Erasmus of Rotterdam to be the second pillar.11 When Budé went so far as to find something of Christ in the ancient Greek god, Hermes, the messenger of the pantheon, Calvin did not agree with him.12 Nonetheless, for legal and political matters, Budé was one of Calvin‟s primary resources.13 Next, through his research in De Clementia, Calvin learned to acknowledge the value of the Stoic perspective on ethics. For him “Seneca‟s supreme gift [is] in ethics.”14 He also discovered that, properly understood, Seneca did not promote a cold, dispassionate morality. Instead, this Stoic philosopher aimed to distinguish between pity and clemency. Pity is sympathy driven by irrational emotion, but clemency is humaneness based upon reasonable grounds.15 Seneca encourages rulers in particular to adopt the latter while avoiding the former. Finally, by studying Seneca with the aid of Budé, Calvin acquired a better understanding of the anthropology found in Greek literature. In De Asse et Partibus Budé himself had studied the relationship of the body to the soul.16 Furthermore, in De Clementia, Calvin encountered the notion that the mind can be compared to a prince. The body is much larger and weightier than the soul, just as the populace of a nation is of greater mass than its prince. Even so, it is precisely the prince who, though lesser by weight, must rule over the populace by employing greater wisdom. Likewise, the lighter soul ought to govern over the heavier body.17 Also, according to Budé, it is particularly the princes who ought to rule consciously as “images

9

CO 5:14–162; an English translation can be found in Calvin, Seneca Commentary. This is Calvin‟s own assessment of the challenges he encountered while he wrote his Seneca commentary CO 6:5; Calvin, Seneca Commentary, 5. 11 Ford Lewis Battles, “The Sources of Calvin‟s Seneca Commentary,” in John Calvin, ed. G.E. Duffield (Appleford: Sutton Courtenay Press, 1966), 40–3,44; Battles and Hugo, “Introduction,” 28; Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism,” 170. 12 Battles, “Calvin‟s Seneca Commentary,” 46. 13 Battles, “Calvin‟s Seneca Commentary,” 43, 49. 14 Battles, “Calvin‟s Seneca Commentary,” 48. 15 CO 6:155–156; Calvin, Seneca Commentary, 362–3. 16 Guillaume Budé, Omnia Opera (Basle: Nicolaus Episcopius, 1557; reprint, Farnborough: Gregg International, 1966), 2:14–6; see also Battles, “Calvin‟s Seneca Commentary,” 44. 17 CO 6:43–44; Calvin, Seneca Commentary, 91–3; see also Battles, “Calvin‟s Seneca Commentary,” 39; Battles and Hugo, “Introduction,” 129–30. Echoes of this view of the mind are heard, later on, in CO 2:142–143; OS 3:185–187; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.8. 10

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of God,”18 who is the King of kings. Therefore, through the travail of his Seneca Commentary, Calvin gave birth, not only to his first publication, but also to some of his initial, rudimentary viewpoints concerning the human nature and the imago Dei.

4.1.3 The Abiding Influence of Humanism Shortly after the death of his earthly father, Girard, on 26 May 1531, the heavenly Father began to steer John Calvin‟s life in a different direction, away from law and toward theology. He briefly describes this course of events in an autobiographical passage in the preface to his Psalms commentary.19 The change occurred gradually and not without some heel-dragging on Calvin‟s part. He earnestly desired the quiet repose of a scholarly life,20 yet his destiny kept pointing him toward the pulpit and toward all the strife and struggle which characterized the ongoing Reformation of the sixteenth century. Ironically, as Calvin began preaching the word of God from St. Peter‟s pulpit in Geneva instead of penning another treatise on an ancient philosopher, in a certain way he also strengthened his bond with humanism. Most Renaissance thinkers emphasized the art of oration, to the point that Renaissance philosophy might be considered part of a theologia rhetorica.21 Over time, Calvin gained rhetorical skill and, in so doing, demonstrated that, at the very least, the humanist pursuit of persuasive oration remained within him throughout his earthly sojourn.22 In addition to this, Geneva‟s reformer did not entirely dispense of the anthropological insights that he gained through his study of Seneca and Budé. To be sure, he rebuked the ancient philosophers for hopelessly confusing the fallen state of human beings with their created state.23 At the same time, he could recommend that if anyone wanted to learn more about the inner workings of the soul, including its various functions and faculties, he should turn to the ancient Greek philosophers whose teachings are “true, Battles, “Calvin‟s Seneca Commentary,” 44. CO 31:22–24; Calvin, Commentaries, 4.xxxix-xlvii. 20 CO 31:24; Calvin, Commentaries, 4.xliii. 21 Charles Trinkaus, The Scope of Renaissance Humanism (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1983), 264. 22 For a recent study of Calvin‟s use of rhetoric in his sermons see Raymond A. Blacketer, The School of God: Pedagogy and Rhetoric in Calvin‟s Interpretation of Deuteronomy (Dordrecht: Springer, 2006), 61–88. For an analysis of rhetoric in Calvin‟s Institutes see Quirinus Breen, “John Calvin and the Rhetorical Tradition,” CH 26, no. 1 (1957). Along similar lines see also Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism,” 172–3. 23 CO 2:142; OS 3:184–185; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.7. 18 19

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not only enjoyable, but also profitable to learn, and skilfully assembled by them.”24 In fact, as the Institutes themselves increased in size from edition to edition, so did the relative volume of quotations from classical sources.25 Finally, throughout his years as a theologian, Calvin acknowledged the church‟s indebtedness to humanists like Desiderius Erasmus and Lorenzo Valla for the scriptural and patristic resources which they made available for all to use.26 As well, he always retained the fundamental, methodological approaches of the studia humanitatis such as returning to the original sources (ad fontes), employing a grammatical-historical exegesis of those texts, and aiming for brevitas et claritas in both written and spoken words. In sum, Calvin the reformer did not renounce everything that he had learned from his exposure to the tide of the Renaissance that was washing over the intellectual landscape of Europe.

4.2 Is Calvin a Humanist? Since Renaissance humanism played a formative role in Calvin‟s youth and also retained a noticeable influence upon him throughout his life, the question arises: can Calvin legitimately be called a humanist? It certainly has been done.27 However, before assenting to that position, another question immediately demands our attention: what, precisely, is a humanist? As Donald Williams rightly notes, “Humanism is one of those words which have so many definitions as to be almost meaningless.”28 Yet, before abandoning all hope of arriving at an answer, it is helpful to distinguish between general and particular humanism.29 According to P.O. Kristeller, particular humanism or studia humanitatis can be defined as:

24

CO 2:141; OS 3:182–184; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.6. Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism,” 173. 26 François Wendel, Calvin: The Origins and Development of His Religious Thought, trans. P. Mairet (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), 33–7. 27 Basil Hall, John Calvin: Humanist and Theologian, 2nd ed. (London: Cox & Wyman, 1967). See also Donald T. Williams, Inklings of Reality: Essays Toward a Christian Philosophy of Letters (Toccoa Falls: Toccoa Falls College Press, 1996) who entitles his third chapter, “John Calvin: Humanist and Reformer.” 28 Williams, Inklings of Reality, 79. 29 The distinction between general and particular humanism has been in use for a number of decades already. See Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Thought. The Classic, Scholastic and Humanist Strains (New York: Harper, 1961); Quirinus Breen, “Humanism and the Reformation,” in The Impact of the Church Upon Its Culture, ed. J.C. Brauer (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968) and Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism”. More recently this distinction has been employed to shed new light on long-standing problems within Reformation research. For example, see Faber, R., “Humanism of Melanchthon and Calvin” who uses the difference between general 25

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[…] a clearly defined cycle of scholarly disciplines, namely grammar, rhetoric, history, poetry and moral philosophy, and the study of each of these subjects was understood to include the reading and interpretation of their standard ancient writers in Latin and, to a lesser extent, in Greek.30

Through the diligent pursuit of such studies, so it was said, an individual would gradually become a better person.31 Studia humanitatis engenders homo superior. This, in turn, opens the door to the less pedagogical and more philosophical aspect of humanism, namely, its view of the identity and capacity of human beings. For the most part it was a decidedly optimistic point of view. Charles Trinkaus sums it up in this way: Though we have been careful to give due attention to the differing currents and have sought a just balance, it has been difficult to escape the sense of a gradual and powerful predominance of what is possibly the most affirmative view of human nature in the history of thought and expression. In making trial of his powers, man comes to be seen more as manifesting his inherent divinity than as risking the danger of transformation into the beast.32

And later he adds: [Humanists] saw mankind not as meekly awaiting the ministrations of a quasi-angelic clergy, not as lying in a torpor of decay like rotting vegetables waiting for the few sound fruits to be plucked from the refuse, but as alive, actively assertive, cunningly designing, storming the gates of heaven.33

Moreover, this innate ability and exuberant energy within human beings is all part and parcel of their creation in the image of God.34 That Calvin, in many ways, adhered to the tenets of particular humanism is evident both in the method of his research and the manner of his writing. His efforts in shaping the curriculum of the Geneva Academy also testify to his esteem for the studia humanitatis.35 However, it is an altogether different question whether or not Calvin concurred with the general consensus of Renaissance thinkers who declared that any human being can transform himself into a

and particular humanism in order to better explain the distinctive approaches that Melanchthon and Calvin took within their common goal of reforming the church. 30 Kristeler, Renaissance Thought, 9–10. For similar definitions of particular humanism see Breen, “Humanism and the Reformation,” 158–64; Linder, “Calvinism and Humanism,” 168–9. 31 Trinkaus, The Scope of Renaissance Humanism, 343, 369. 32 Charles Trinkaus, In Our Image and Likeness: Humanity and Divinity in Italian Humanist Thought (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970), xiv. 33 Trinkaus, In our Image and Likeness, xxi. 34 Trinkaus, In our Image and Likeness, xxii. 35 Williams, Inklings of Reality, 86–7.

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homo triumphans, if only he puts in the requisite amount of intellectual and moral exertion.36 Assiduously applying this distinction between particular and general humanism may also provide a path through, and beyond, some of the differing assessments of Calvin‟s relationship to Renaissance humanism that exist in scholarly literature. On the one hand, there is the proposal of J. van Eck that two separate lines co-exist within Calvin‟s thought: the humanist line, stemming from his work in the Seneca Commentary, and the reformatory line, reaching back to his publication of the 1536 Institutes.37 As van Eck sees it, these two lines are usually tugging in opposite directions. The humanist line pulls toward a positive view of humanity, while the reformatory line tends to push human beings down into the shadows of pessimism since their pervasive corruption conflicts with God‟s pure holiness.38 On the other hand, there is the thesis of Quirinus Breen, supported by Roy Battenhouse, that a certain “precipitate of humanism” is dispersed throughout the theological writings of Geneva‟s reformer.39 In other words, this position advocates a more or less straight line from Calvin‟s early humanist education into his later theological work. Breen even suggests that by the time Calvin‟s life was altered at the age of twenty-four, he had “so thoroughly imbibed the spirit of humanism, his conversion could not possibly negative [sic] his acquired habits and attitudes of mind.”40 In short, once a humanist always a humanist. Which of these two models is correct? As mentioned earlier, it is relatively easy to see a line of continuity between the studia humanitatis, or particular humanism, which Calvin used in his Seneca Commentary, and for instance, his commentaries on the Pauline Epistles. There is the same careful attention to linguistic and historical context, as well as the same aspiration for clear, concise exposition. Yet, it is much harder to draw that same line of continuity between Calvin and Renaissance humanists when it 36 In this regard see also Cornelis Augustijn, “Calvin und der Humanismus,” in Calvinus servus Christi: Die Referate des Congres International des Recherches Calviniennes, ed. W. Neuser (Budapest: Presseabteilung des Raday-Kollegiums, 1988), 139. Augustijn argues that Calvin can not be called a humanist in the full-fledged sense of the term. He concedes that the Genevan reformer might be called a humanist in the technical sense that he used humanist methods in his exegesis. However, he stresses that Calvin does not agree with the majority of Renaissance humanists who felt that the philosophical writings of antiquity served as a legitimate stepping stone to Christian theology. With this thesis Augustijn takes a different direction than some other scholars such as: Josef Bohatec, “Calvin et l‟Humanisme,” Revue Historique 183 (1938); Breen, Calvin: A Study in French Humanism; and Partee, Calvin and Classical Philosophy. 37 van Eck, God, mens, medemens, 27–8. 38 van Eck, God, mens, medemens, 101ff. 39 Breen, Calvin: A Study in French Humanism, 146–64; Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 448–49. 40 Breen, Calvin: A Study in French Humanism, 146.

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comes to who humans are and what they can accomplish. The latter is characterized by unbounded optimism while the former insists on the need for a full-scale rescue. Does this bring us back, then, to van Eck‟s proposal? Are the humanist and reformatory lines engaged in a tug-of-war for Calvin‟s mind? Perhaps there is another solution. Might it be, as some have suggested,41 that Calvin‟s understanding of the humanitas is not merely opposed to the Renaissance point of view, but that it is, in fact, a step above and beyond the anthropology of humanism? This is the possibility that will be investigated below. In order to keep the scope of the investigation within reasonable bounds, three representative Renaissance humanists have been chosen. The first, Pico della Mirandola (1463–1494), is from Italy; the second, Desiderius Erasmus (ca. 1469–1536), hails from the Netherlands; the last, Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples (1450–1536), originates from France. All three of these men lived just prior to, or contemporaneously with, Calvin. Therefore, we have a geographically diverse, yet temporally plausible, context within which we can work. Two queries will shape our investigation. First, how do these humanists understand human nature and, more specifically, the imago Dei? Second, how does their understanding compare with, or contrast against, Calvin‟s point of view? Once these questions have been answered, we will be in a better position to evaluate the relationship, or lack thereof, between Geneva‟s reformer and general humanism.

4.3 Pico della Mirandola More like a blustery gale than a gentle breeze, the twenty-three year old Giovanni Pico della Mirandola announced his arrival on the scene of Italian academia by publishing nine-hundred theses in 1486.42 His propositions covered a wide range of topics encompassing philosophy, religion, mathematics, and magic. His sources included an even wider assembly of sages, from Greek Peripatetics to Pythagorean mathematicians, as well as Hebrew Cabalists and Arab theorists.43 Moreover, his goal was to demonstrate that all these different subjects and differing sources could be subsumed within 41 This direction has been indicated by André Biéler, The Social Humanism of Calvin, trans. Paul T. Fuhrmann (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1964), 12. Also see Oberman, “The Pursuit,” 28– 30. However, the full implications of this possibility have not been explored yet. 42 S.A. Farmer, Syncretism in the West: Pico‟s 900 Theses (1486): The Evolution of Traditional, Religious, and Philosophical Systems (Tempe: Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies, 1998). This book provides the text, with translation, of Pico‟s 900 thesis. It also contains a helpful commentary on the content and context of Pico‟s publication. 43 Farmer, Syncretism in the West, 204–5.

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one unified system of thought. With undaunted confidence, Pico was willing to defend his position against any and all challengers. In an effort to draw attention toward a planned public disputation of his theses (which, in fact, never happened),44 he composed his well-known Oration on the Dignity of Man. Since the Oration is a promotional exercise in rhetoric, and since Pico himself was young and rather brash at the time, one might question whether this publication should be seriously considered as a representative example of Italian Renaissance thinking concerning the nature of humanity. However, the fact remains that this document came to have a lasting impact on the intellectual development, not only of Italy, but indeed of Europe as a whole.45 Furthermore, when the Oration is combined with the Heptaplus, Pico‟s extensive study of Genesis 1 and 2, a credible survey of his anthropology is obtained.46

4.3.1 Oration on the Dignity of Man (1486) Pico begins his Oration by declaring, “Magnum miraculum est homo.”47 Yet he finds that many of the reasons commonly given to substantiate this great dignity are lacking. He notes that some see human beings as the allimportant link between the heavenly and earthly realms. Others mention that human intelligence far supersedes the cognitive capacities of other creatures. Still others, such as King David, assert that “man is a little lower than the angels.”48 However, as Pico insists, there is more at stake here. The universe is comprised of three levels: the earthly house for fish, fowl, and beasts; the celestial globe for heavenly bodies and eternal souls; and the super-celestial region for angels and minds.49 However, when God had finished creating and adorning these three realms, he still wanted to fashion human beings as the crowning glory of his creative effort. Yet with such a vast array of splendid creatures, how could the Creator make humans stand apart? What greater splendour could he possibly give them? Pico‟s answer is this:

44 Paul Oskar Kristeller, Renaissance Thought and Its Sources, ed. Michael Mooney (New York: Columbia University Press, 1979), 174. 45 Kristeller, Renaissance Thought, 177–8; William G. Craven, Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola: Symbol of His Age (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1981), 21. 46 On the importance of paying attention to the Heptaplus and not just the Oration, see Craven, Pico Della Mirandola, 22, 29–30, and Trinkaus, In our Image and Likeness, 507. 47 Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Opera Omnia (Basel: H. Petrina, 1573; reprint, Torino: Bottega d‟Erasmo, 1971), 1.313. 48 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 3. 49 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 4.

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He took up man, a work of indeterminate form [and] spoke to him as follows: We have given to you, Adam, no fixed seat, no form of your very own, no gift peculiarly yours, that you may feel as your own, have as your own, possess as your own the seat, the form, the gifts which you yourself shall desire. A limited nature in other creatures is confined within the laws written down by Us. In conformity with your free judgment, in whose hands I have placed you, you are confined by no bounds; and you will fix limits of nature for yourself. I have placed you at the center of the world, that from there you may more conveniently look around and see whatsoever is in the world […]. You can grow downward into the lower natures which are brutes. You can again grow upward from your soul‟s reason into the higher natures which are divine.50

In this “indeterminate” form, human beings possess the surpassing dignity of being free to become whatever they wish to be. In Pico‟s own words, “if we will to, we can.”51 The diverse seeds of all natures lie within the human heart and each person is free to choose which seed is cultivated for growth, be it of a higher nature or a lower one.52 This liberty to soar or sink should not be understood in an ontological sense but rather a moral and intellectual sense.53 If any individual so chooses, he may allow himself to slip down into such a state of dissipation that his conduct is the moral equivalent of the beasts that roam the fields. Alternatively, that same person, by concerted contemplation, has the capacity to ascend through the realms from earthly, to celestial, and on toward the super-celestial sphere. Furthermore, “if you come upon a pure contemplator, ignorant of the body, banished to the innermost places of the mind, he is not an earthly, not a heavenly animal; he more superbly is a divinity clothed with human flesh.”54 It should be noted that this buoyant view of humanitas, with a capacity for divinitas, is linked to Pico‟s own training in the methodology of studia humanitatis. In taking his research ad fontes, the Phoenix of Wit, as he was called, drew water from each and every ancient, intellectual well that he could unearth. Even though his hometown of Florence was the centre of Neo-Platonism,55 Pico‟s understanding of the human nature is not merely 50 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 4–5; the archaic pronouns and verb forms of this translation have been updated. 51 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 7. 52 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 5. 53 Craven, Pico Della Mirandola, 34. 54 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 6; emphasis mine. 55 Pico is not the sole representative of the Italian Renaissance view of the human nature. One would need to include, at the very least, other Florentine philosophers such as Petrarch, Ficino, and Pomponazzi. On this point see Kristeller, Renaissance Thought, 169. Furthermore, this Florentine school, for all of its interest in rehabilitating Platonism, also had a keen desire to revive the teachings of the church fathers, particularly the Greek speaking ones; see Trinkaus, In our Image and Likeness, xiv. Also worth noting is the fact that Pico was an avid reader of Jewish Cabalistic writings, to the point that he has been called “the first Christian student of the Cabala”; see Israel

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Platonic. Neither is it strictly scriptural, though he freely quotes from Moses, David, and Paul. It is rather the Phoenix‟s own personal amalgamation of all the diverse insights into human nature that can be found in the ancient sources.

4.3.2 Heptaplus (1489) In the medieval era it was common for theologians to publish a study of the six days of creation. Accordingly, such books were often called Hexameron.56 Carrying this tradition a step further, Pico penned a study of the seven, not the six, days of creation, and thus he entitled it Heptaplus. The hermeneutic that he applies to the first chapter of Genesis is undeniably allegorical. The gathered waters of verse 9 can refer to the five senses of the human body, while the moon of verse 16 can represent an angel.57 Given Pico‟s passion for the writings of various mystics, it is not entirely surprising that his exegesis makes ample use of metaphorical extrapolation.58 The Florentine philosopher begins by outlining his vision of the four worlds. The first three worlds were already delineated in the Oration: the earthly or elemental world, the heavenly or celestial world, and finally the super-celestial or invisible world.59 The addition to this list, the human world, is not so much a separate realm as it is the organic cement which holds the first three realms together. As Pico phrases it, “man is not so much a fourth world, like some new creature, as he is the bond and union of the three already described.”60 Moreover, this understanding of human beings as the central, focal point of all creation is directly linked to their creation in the image and likeness of God: There is, however, a custom often practiced by the kings and princes of the earth, when they have founded magnificent and noble cities, of placing in the center of them statues of themselves to be looked at and seen by all. God, the sovereign of all things, Abrahams, “Pico Della Mirandola,” HUCA 2 (1925): 320. Pico has even been called “the father” of Christian Cabala; see Chaim Wirszubski, Pico Della Mirandolla‟s Encounter with Jewish Mysticism (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989), 185. 56 Bede, Abelard, Thierry of Chartres and Robert Grosseteste are among those who wrote a Hexameron. See Trinkaus, The Scope of Renaissance Humanism, 349. 57 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 113, 122. 58 One of the more obvious examples of a mystic overtone in Pico‟s writing is his repeated appeal to his readers that, through contemplation, they will ascend through the heavenly realms, closer and closer to God himself. See Farmer, Syncretism in the West, 113–4. For more on Pico‟s connections to (especially Jewish) mysticism, see Trinkaus, In our Image and Likeness, 521 and Wirszubski, Pico‟s Encounter with Jewish Mysticism. 59 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 92, 104, 107. 60 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 134.

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did the same when after constructing all the machinery of the world He last of all placed man in the midst of it, formed to his own image and likeness.61

After Pico provides this introduction to the four worlds, he goes on to give seven expositions comprised of seven brief chapters each. Each chapter corresponds to one day of creation. Thus, in total, he expounds each day of creation seven times, adding new insights each time. What follows are the main points pertaining to humanitas and the imago Dei in each exposition. In the first exposition human beings are presented as the “absolute perfection of all lower things” even as “Christ is the absolute perfection of all men.”62 Since Pico is giving his interpretation of the first chapter of Genesis, it would seem logical that he is referring here to humanity in the status originalis. However, the difficulty is that he leaves the matter sufficiently vague that no one could be faulted if, after reading the Heptaplus, they came to the conclusion that even today, post lapsum, humans are still the absolute perfection of all lower things.63 The second exposition introduces Pico‟s view of the creation of Adam and Eve, that is, both male and female. Metaphorically the distinct genders stand for different capacities of the soul. The soul‟s contemplative faculty, which inclines it toward the angelic realm, corresponds to the male gender, while the soul‟s ability to govern over the body corresponds to the female gender.64 In both contemplation and governance all people are called upon to reflect the likeness of God. Therefore, Pico exhorts his readers, “Let us not shape images of the stars in metals but an image of him, the Word of God, in our souls.”65 Thus, the imago Dei is not merely an attribute but also an activity. Interestingly, in his third exposition Pico describes human beings in relation to angels. Throughout the successive days of creation, each divine fiat provides additional insights into the angelic ranks and realms. Yet, remarkably, when the Phoenix of Florence reaches the seventh day he looks back over the sixth day and makes the following observation: Finally Moses mentions man, not because man is an angel, but because he is the end and terminus of the angelic world, just as when discussing corruptible nature he presents man not as part of that nature, but as its beginning and head.66

The significance of this statement should not be underestimated. The medieval scholastics debated at length concerning the relative dignity of hu61

Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 134. Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 92. 63 Kristeller, Renaissance Thought, 175. 64 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 104. 65 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 105. 66 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 115. 62

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mans vis-à-vis angels. Most of them concluded that angels possessed a higher status than human beings.67 This conclusion is also understandable given the predominant place of cosmic hierarchy in the medieval mindset. In the great chain of being the common man was the middle link, with bishops, seraphim, and God above him, and beasts, sea creatures, and the ground below him. Thus, when Pico elevates humans up and above the cherubim, his proposition is innovative, if not a little bit revolutionary. Turning to the fourth exposition, it becomes obvious that this exposition contains the majority of Pico‟s anthropology. Allegorizing on the first day of creation, he concludes that humans are tripartite with a body (the earth) and a soul (the heavens), as well as a spirit (the light which comes from the heavens and touches the earth).68 Then, using the second day as a metaphorical springboard, he adds that if the soul concentrates on the five senses of the body it will descend to the level of the beasts (the waters below). However, if that same soul focuses on the contemplations of the mind it will ascend toward God (the waters above).69 From the gathering of the waters on the third day we learn that the five senses – hearing, sight, taste, touch, and smell – should work together to take care of the body. 70 The creation of the sun, moon and stars on the fourth day corresponds to the “royal furnishings” or “adornments” of the soul. At the same time, these adornments contain the expectation of an increasingly bright future; for in the darkness of this present life we try to understand, as it were, by the dim light of the moon, but in the life to come we shall comprehend all things in the bright sunshine of eternity.71 The birds, the fish, and the beasts created on the fifth and sixth days represent the desires of the flesh. Notably, Pico says these desires are not evil, in and of themselves, but they may become so through excessive ambition, avarice, or arrogance.72 This leads to further reflection on the sixth day and on the creation of humans in the image and likeness of God. When Adam and Eve were commanded to have dominion over the animals, Pico understands this to mean that all humanity is to exercise dominion over their desires so that the “craving of anger and lust might be curbed.”73 Failure to do so would mean that “the image of God has been blotted out by the stain of sin [and] we begin to serve the beasts in us, wretchedly and unhappily.”74 As a result, through sin human beings degen67

Trinkaus, In our Image and Likeness, 188, 512. Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 118–9. 69 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 120. 70 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 121–2. 71 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 122–3. 72 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 125. 73 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 125. 74 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 125. 68

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erate into beasts, but through Christ there is restoration “not as men but as adopted sons of God.”75 The fifth, sixth, and seventh expositions repeatedly demonstrate how all four worlds – earthly, celestial, super-celestial, and human – are intricately interwoven. Along the way, though, Pico inserts a number of additional details concerning his view of the imago Dei. In the first place, he points out that it is folly to think that this image can be found in the body, for the likeness of God is located in the soul, and particularly in the mind with its capacity to reason.76 Next, he asserts that human beings are also said to be the image of God by virtue of the fact that they collect and join together all the natures of the world, even as God is the ultimate origin of those same natures.77 The importance of this particular teaching should not be underestimated since, ultimately, it means that all the created natures of the heavenly and earthly realms are “flowing together into one”78 and that one is humanity. In short, for Pico the telos of the imago is the homo who is the magnum miraculum. Pico also finds it fitting that Christ, who is the image of the invisible God, should have taken upon himself human nature, that very nature which, in distinction from all other natures, bears the image of God.79 Finally, in the divine proclamation, “Let us make man in our image,” the Florentine humanist sees a foreshadowing of the sacrament of baptism. Through baptism the believer becomes like Christ in his death and resurrection, as the apostle explains in Romans 6, and in becoming like the Son, the believer also becomes like the Father.80 4.3.3 Pico‟s View of Humanitas and Imago Dei At this point it is helpful to pause and briefly summarize Pico‟s anthropology. He teaches that God created human beings with a tripartite, indeterminate nature. In effect, this means that by following the contemplative desires of the soul, a person‟s spirit may ascend through the cosmic hierarchy and, with sufficient concentration, become a divine being, all the while still being clothed with human flesh. Alternately, by focussing too much on the stimuli presented to the five senses of the body, a person‟s spirit will sink 75

Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 126. Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 134. 77 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 135. 78 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 135. 79 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 137–8. 80 Pico, Dignity of Man and Heptaplus, 169. See also Fernand Roulier, Jean Pic de la Mirandole (1463–1494), Humaniste, Philosophie et Théologien (Geneva: Slatkine, 1989), 485, who notes the remarkable link between imago Dei and sonship in Pico‟s Heptaplus. 76

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into the lower realms of the beasts. This ascent or descent is an ethical metaphor. It refers primarily to morality, not ontology. For Pico, the doctrine of the imago Dei is almost like a magnet which attracts ferrous filings of dignity from here, there, and everywhere, all of which compound to substantiate his premise that man is indeed a magnum miraculum. God the King sets the human being as the very center of his creation like a royal statue in the city square for all who pass by to behold. Since they are the imago Dei, humans also rule, or at least they should rule, over the passions of their flesh. In this they are helped by receiving a mind which is a reflection of God‟s own intelligence. Moreover, when a person fails to resist temptation as he should, there is yet the hope of Christ who is the image of the invisible God and has joined himself to human nature. Finally, this likeness to Christ, and thereby also similarity to the Father, is signified to believers in baptism.

4.3.4 Pico and Calvin Compared Unlike Zwingli, who lauded Pico‟s wisdom,81 and Melanchthon, who rebuked him for esteeming contemplation above oration,82 Calvin does not write about Pico, either negatively or positively. Nevertheless, it is wellnigh impossible to imagine that someone as well-read as Geneva‟s reformer was entirely unaware of Florence‟s famous philosopher. Indeed, Roy Battenhouse has even gone so far as to suggest, that although there are certainly differences between Calvin‟s view of human nature and that of Pico, there are also a number of noteworthy similarities. To be specific, Battenhouse lists four affinities: 1. Calvin compares fallen man to an ox or a donkey, and Pico also speaks of man degenerating into a beast of the field; 2. Calvin holds that even in fallen man there is a seed of religion, while Pico also speaks of the seeds of various natures which can potentiality be cultivated; 3. Calvin‟s stress on salvation by faith which includes right knowledge is similar to Pico‟s ascent into the heavenly realms through contemplation;

Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 448–9; Breen, “Humanism and the Reformation,” 154–5. Zwingli even begins his treatise on the providence of God with a quotation from Pico‟s Oration. 82 See Quirinus Breen, “Melancthon‟s Reply to G. Pico Della Mirandola,” Journal of the History of Ideas 13, no. 3 (1952). 81

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4. Pico urges everyone to transcend their lower nature, while Calvin repeatedly warns his hearers to leave behind their sinful nature.83 As much as one might credit Battenhouse for the creativity of his comparisons, his analysis is lacking in several, significant ways. To begin with, Pico‟s understanding of human nature is closely tied to the cosmic hierarchy of his day. Even if the Phoenix was so bold as to rearrange the links in the chain of being, setting humans above angels, his entire anthropology is still ordered in terms of people ascending or descending the ladder of dignity. In stark contrast to this, the underpinnings of Calvin‟s view of humanitas are historical, not hierarchical. He insists on distinguishing between human beings as they were created from human beings after they fell into sin, and again, on separating sinners from those who are restored in Christ and eventually glorified by him. Calvin‟s anthropology cannot be comprehended properly without this chronological paradigm: creation, fall, salvation, and glorification. Yet, as noted above, often it is difficult to discern the particular state to which Pico is referring, whether it is the created state or the fallen state. In short, Pico‟s anthropology is set upon the medieval ladder of cosmic hierarchy, while Calvin‟s anthropology is laid out upon successive stages of redemptive history. Once this fundamental difference between the Italian humanist and the French reformer is observed, it also becomes evident that the affinities identified by Battenhouse are more superficial than substantial. All the same, it is true that Pico and Calvin agree on some points regarding the imago Dei. They both emphasize that the seat of God‟s image is located in the soul, not the physical body. In addition, neither one of them draws a sharp line of distinction between imago and similitudo. Still, concerning the doctrine of the imago Dei, there is more that separates than unites these two thinkers. For Pico the image has much to do with the dominion over the animals that God gave to Adam and Eve, which by allegorical extension becomes a dominion over the desires of the flesh. By contrast, at first Calvin entirely rejects the connection between image and dominion, and when he does eventually allow for it, it is only a very small part of the imago Dei. More significantly than that, though, Calvin maintains that humans created in the likeness of God ought to use their Godgiven endowments for the glory of their Creator. In this way the imago Dei is theocentric for him. However, according to Pico, the imago Dei leads to a decidedly anthropocentric universe in which all natures and creatures focus on honouring the magnum miraculum, otherwise known as Homo. 83 The four affinities listed above are my own summary of Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 452–5.

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Furthermore, dabbling with deification, to which Pico was prone, is something that Calvin labels “a monstrous thing.”84 For Geneva‟s theologian the doctrine of the imago Dei serves two purposes. In the first place, it establishes the close, even paternal, relationship that God had with human beings at creation. Yet, in the second place, it draws a sharp line of demarcation between humanitas and divinitas. That human beings are created in the image of God also means, ipso facto, that they are not God and that they cannot become God. At best, that line of demarcation becomes fuzzy in Pico‟s Oration and Heptaplus. At worst, it is precariously close to being erased altogether.

4.4 Desiderius Erasmus Adorned with the sobriquet, “Prince of Humanists,” Erasmus was, without a doubt, one of the most influential and widely read humanists of the sixteenth century.85 He devoted much of his academic energy toward advancing the biblical scholarship of his day. It has even been suggested that he was a founding father of modern New Testament scholarship.86 Moreover, Rotterdam‟s most famous son had an abiding interest in the attributes and abilities of the human nature. In fact, Luther accused him of focussing too much on the human and not enough on the divine.87 These three qualities of Erasmus – his zeal for the studia humanitatis, his contribution to biblical scholarship, and his interest in human nature – make him an ideal candidate for inclusion within this appraisal of humanitas within Renaissance humanism.

4.4.1 Enchiridion (1503) According to Erasmus, people are enlisted in the army of Christ through baptism.88 Although there are numerous enemies with whom the soldier of Christ must fight – including demons, the world, and the ancient Serpent 84

CO 2:140; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5. Steven E. Ozment, The Age of Reform 1250–1550: An Intellectual and Religious History of Late Medieval and Reformation Europe (London: Yale University Press, 1980), 290 86 T.F. Torrance, “The Hermeneutics of Erasmus,” in Probing the Reformed Tradition: Historical Studies in Honor of Edward A. Dowey, Jr., ed. Elsie McKee and Brian G. Armstrong (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1989), 48 87 Ozment, Age of Reform, 290. 88 Desiderius Erasmus, Collected Works of Erasmus, vol. 66, Enchiridion (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998), 25–6. 85

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himself – the most dangerous foe is also the most familiar, namely, the sinful nature that still resides within each baptized person.89 Therefore, in order to wage war effectively against this internal enemy, every combatant bearing Christ‟s emblem must know himself thoroughly, even as the Delphic Oracle has declared.90 Accurate knowledge of human nature begins with the acknowledgment that human beings are marvellous creatures composed of two or three parts.91 This apparent ambivalence between dichotomy and trichotomy stems from the fact that Erasmus first endorses a Platonic anthropology of body and soul, while later he also concurs with the Origenian arrangement of body and spirit, with a soul struggling to find its place between the two.92 The Prince of Humanism does not see any conflict between the bipartite view of Plato and the tripartite one of Origen. On the contrary, for him, the latter is merely an elaboration of the former.93 Following the Platonic perspective first, Erasmus explains that human beings consist of a soul, which is like divinity, and a body, which is like a brute beast. Actually, so far as the physical body is concerned, we are inferior to many beasts of field and forest. Some animals can see farther and run faster than humans. However, with respect to the soul, “we have such a capacity for divinity that we can soar past the minds of the angels and become one with God.”94 At creation God so united these two constituent parts of humanitas that they co-existed in perfect harmony. Tragically, Satan sowed the seeds of discord between body and soul when he tempted Eve in the garden.95 Consequently, the two parts pull in opposite directions. The body, which is heavy, sinks downward, seeking the visible things of temporal pleasures. In contrast, the soul, which is spiritual, still longs to soar upward, seeking the invisible things of eternal glory.96 Delving further into the details, it is noteworthy that Erasmus also takes his initial understanding of the imago Dei from Plato. In his Timaeus this Greek philosopher explains that within the hierarchy of the Pantheon it is the children of the gods who created humanity in their own image. In effect, this means that the human soul itself is sub-divided into a mortal part (in the likeness of the children of the gods) and an immortal part (in the likeness of 89

Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:25. Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:40. 91 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:41. 92 For the Platonic perspective see Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:41; for the Origenian assessment see Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:51. 93 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:51. 94 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:41. 95 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:41. 96 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:41. 90

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the father creator).97 The higher, immortal section of the soul corresponds to the brain, which is the abode of ratio, the king of the soul. The lower, mortal sections of the soul correspond to the midriff and waist, which are the dwelling place of many and various passions.98 Without hesitation Erasmus adopts this exposition of the imago Dei since he regards Plato as someone who has “divinely inspired knowledge.”99 Armed with the abovementioned insights, the Christian soldier is equipped to wage battle, striving with all his mental might to overcome vice and obtain virtue. Indeed, Erasmus admits, the contest will be difficult. All the same, “the human mind has never made vehement demands upon itself that it has not accomplished.”100 In other words, the ratio can always succeed, so long as it puts its mind to it. Furthermore, should anyone question whether this understanding of humanitas is found in Scripture, the Dutch humanist answers in the affirmative. He simply identifies Plato‟s two souls with Paul‟s two men: the inner man and the outer man (2 Cor 4:16). In fact, he already finds Plato‟s bipartite soul metaphorically foreshadowed in the account of the pre-natal Jacob and Esau wrestling within their mother‟s womb (Gen 25:22–23).101 Thus, for Erasmus, whatever other differences may exist between pagan philosophy and scriptural revelation, the two substantially agree on the attributes and abilities of the human being. Erasmus also extends this circle of agreement to the church father Origen, who holds a tripartite understanding of human nature. Since the Prince of Humanists has already assented to Plato‟s upper and lower soul, it is not a large step for him to give his approval also to Origen‟s division of body, soul, and spirit. As expected, the body is the lowest part, into which Satan has inscribed the law of sin. The spirit is the highest part in which there is “a likeness of the divine nature […] engraved with [God‟s] finger, that is, his Spirit.”102 The soul finds itself caught in the middle. Sometimes it inclines toward the spirit, while at other times it is enticed by the body. Yet, if the soul manages to suppress the natural passions of the body and to aspire after the dictates of the spirit, then progress is being made in that “unremitting warfare” which is the lot of all mortals.103 In short, in his Enchiridion, Erasmus describes the human nature as an entity which wages an internal, ethical war against itself. 97 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:42; cf. Plato, Timaeus, 3rd ed. (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1949), 1.4–14. 98 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:43. 99 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:42. 100 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:46. 101 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:48. 102 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:51. 103 Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:24.

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4.4.2 Paraphrase on Acts (1524) Not only did Erasmus publish his own edition of the actual text of the New Testament, he also wrote paraphrases of the New Testament which provide more insight into his understanding of the text. In Acts 17 the Apostle Paul arrives in Athens and speaks in the Areopagus concerning all the cultic images he has seen in the city. The apostle‟s main point is that no one should think that “the divine being is like gold or silver or stone – an image made by man‟s design and skill” (v 29). In his paraphrase Erasmus elucidates this by explaining that while the image of God is not to be found in a golden statue, it is certainly located in the mind of each human being. To be sure, there are traces of God‟s power and wisdom displayed in the lights of the heavens above and in the living creatures on the earth below. However, Erasmus maintains that the clearest display of “the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of the creator” is seen in human beings.104 This is then connected to the creation of Adam and by extension, one would presume, to the creation of Eve. Erasmus writes: So God is in each of us and works through us, as a craftsman works through the instrument he himself has made. Man, however, reflects God not only as a work reflects the workman, but also as a child reflects its parent, by a certain similarity and kinship of nature. It has been handed down to us in sacred books that God fashioned for Adam, who was the first of the human race, a body from wet clay, in which respect he would have kinship with other living creatures; but with his mouth God breathed into this mud image a tiny bit of celestial breath, through which we might resemble more closely our parent God himself and because of the similarity in nature might recognize him more easily.105

Shortly thereafter he adds: Since, then, we are the offspring of God in respect to the likeness of the mind planted within us, the opinions we entertain about our parent [i.e. God] are not at all correct if we believe that he is like the gold, silver, wood, or stone sculpted by human, when we ourselves are held to be human beings especially because of the invisible part of us, which is reason.106

Three things become evident from Erasmus‟ comments. First, his description of the imago Dei is framed within a parent-child relationship. That is to say, God created the special, filial bond between Adam and himself. This parent-child theme returns, in a slightly different form, in Erasmus‟ explanation of the Lord‟s Prayer. As he expounds on the first petition, “Father 104 Desiderius Erasmus, Collected Works of Erasmus, vol. 50, Paraphrase on Acts (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1995), 109. 105 Erasmus, Acts, 50:110. 106 Erasmus, Acts, 50:110.

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hallowed be thy name,” he notes that Jesus is “the purest son because he is the perfect image of his Father, whom he recalls and represents in totality.”107 As believers model their lives after the example of Christ, the eternal Son, they also form themselves after the likeness of the Father, thereby validating their own adoption as God‟s children. Second, with respect to his soul, Adam is the imago Dei or imago Creatoris, but as it pertains to his body, he is an imago creationis. This dual aspect of the imago harmonizes with the duality of the humanitas outlined in the Enchiridion where Erasmus depicts the heavy body clinging to the earth while the heavenly soul soars upward to God. Third, according to this paraphrase, the primary likeness between God and human beings is an intellectual one. Reason is what sets humans apart from animals. It is also what connects them to their Creator. 4.4.3 Colloquy: “The New Mother” (1526) The colloquies that flow from the skilful quill of Erasmus are a wideranging collection of fictitious conversations throughout which the Prince of Humanism sprinkles instruction on various doctrinal and ethical topics. The colloquy entitled “Puerpera,” or “The New Mother,” deals with pediatric concerns, such as whether or not to employ a wet nurse, but also discusses hermeneutic concerns, such as what the Apostle Paul is teaching about the image of God and gender in 1 Corinthians 11. The conversation unfolds as follows. Fabulla, a young mother who is merely sixteen years old, has given birth to a son. She is visited by Eutrapelus, who suggests that Fabulla is privileged to have borne a son rather than a daughter, just as it is greater fortune to receive a crystal cup instead of a glass one. 108 In return, Fabulla takes offence at Eutrapelus‟ suggestion and asks him whether a man is somehow “naturally better” than a woman.109 After a few more rhetorical sallies and parries, the conversation settles upon 1 Corinthians 11:7 where the apostle writes, “He [man] is the image and glory of God; but the woman is the glory of man.” Eutrapelus sets forth this passage in order to demonstrate that the male, by virtue of his nature as created by God, is superior to the female, since the apostle is obviously alluding to Genesis 1 when he speaks of the image of God. Undaunted, 107 Desiderius Erasmus, Collected Works of Erasmus, vol. 69, The Lord‟s Prayer (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999), 63. 108 Desiderius Erasmus, Collected Works of Erasmus, vol. 39, Colloquies (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), 592; 109 What follows in the rest of the above paragraph is a summary of Erasmus, Colloquies, 39:593–4.

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Fabulla retorts, “Show me whether it‟s granted to men only to be members of Christ.” At this, Eutrapelus swiftly retreats and admits that all who believe – whether male or female – are members of Christ. Consequently, Fabulla concludes that since both genders are incorporated into the body of Christ, male and female must also share equally in the bond with the Head. She then immediately presses her point further by inquiring whether the image of God resides in the bodily form or the mental gifts. After Eutrapelus responds that the image is undoubtedly in the mental gifts, Fabulla concludes that the image must be shared equally between men and women, since women are at least as smart as men. In fact, men are more frequently caught up in the foolishness of drunkenness and brawls than women are. To this line of reasoning the older Eutrapelus accedes. However, the original question of how 1 Corinthians 11 should be interpreted remains unanswered, and the conversation slowly drifts into a discussion of the most beneficial way of nursing a newborn. In short, Erasmus broaches, but does not resolve, the matter of how the image relates to gender in Scripture. At best it can be concluded that he appears to believe that the imago Dei is in both male and female, but, at the same time, he seems unable to explain what the Apostle Paul is teaching in 1 Corinthians.110 4.4.4 Erasmus‟ View of Humanitas and Imago Dei Both Pico and Erasmus fervently maintained that each person is at liberty to determine, for good or for grief, the ethical course of his or her own life.111 For them this freedom is immutably inherent in the human nature. Like their philosophical mentor, Plato, both humanists also orient human beings on a vertical axis of existence. Led by reason and longing for virtue, human beings may steadily ascend toward heaven, yes, even to God himself. Alternatively, following the passions of the flesh, those same persons may sink down to the level of beasts, if not in character, then certainly in conduct. Furthermore, Pico and Erasmus agree that human nature is fundamen110 In his Paraphrase on 1 Cor 11 Erasmus does not offer much more insight into the matter. He simply states man is created in the image of God, which indicates that he is a sort of “government and head to the woman.” He further notes that at creation, contrary to what one might naturally expect, the perfect (i.e., Adam) was created first and the imperfect (i.e., Eve) was created second. See Desiderius Erasmus, The Seconde Tome or Volume of the Paraphrase of Erasmus Vpon the Newe Testament, trans. Miles Coverdale and John Old (London: Edwarde Whitchurche, 1549), f31r. 111 Ozment, Age of Reform, 300–1. See also Abrahams, “Pico,” 331, who notes similarities between Pico‟s set of “Twelve Rules” for fighting temptation and the advice that Erasmus gives in his Enchiridion.

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tally tripartite, consisting of body, spirit, and soul, even if each sage presents the organization of the soul in a slightly different manner. Finally, they also concur that the mind is, or at least ought to be, the ruler of the soul. Where ratio is dethroned, there ethical anarchy is sure to follow. In sum, concerning humanitas itself there are more similarities than differences between the Phoenix of Florence and the Prince of Rotterdam. However, once we turn to the doctrine of the image of God, the landscape changes. Pico sketches his view of God‟s image using the language of dominion. Humans must rule over their emotions and affections even as God presides over the entire universe. However, Erasmus outlines his understanding of the image by referring to the relationship between a parent and his children. As a son is similar to his father, so Adam and Eve were similar to their heavenly Father, the Creator. This parent-children relationship gives the human race a special dignity.112 By the same token, he makes things significantly more complex when he asserts that the human body was created in the likeness of living creatures, while the soul was created according to the similitude of God. Hence the design of the Erasmian imago is unmistakably bifurcated. Added to that, there is a noteworthy lack of clarity concerning the relation of God‟s image and human gender. On the one hand, Europe‟s most famous humanist feels that both men and women share equally in the likeness of God, yet on the other hand, this well-versed New Testament scholar appears to abandon his effort to resolve the exegetical challenge presented by 1 Corinthians 11.

4.4.5 Erasmus and Calvin Compared In the preface to his Seneca Commentary, Calvin expresses appreciation for the sweat Erasmus exerted, even twice, in the arena of this ancient Stoic‟s writing.113 Still, although Calvin could respect the labours of a scholar who was some forty years his senior, he could not concur with all the viewpoints that Erasmus set forth. Since Erasmus and Pico have similar understandings of the human nature, much of what was mentioned above concerning the Phoenix114 also applies to the Prince. The primary difference remains that while Calvin looks at human nature through the lens of redemptive history (creation, fall, restoration, glorification), Erasmus locates individuals upon a ladder of morality (virtue is above, vice is below). 112 On the centrality of dignity in Erasmus‟ view of human beings see Louis A. Markos, “The Enchiridion of Erasmus,” ThToday 64 (2007): 87. 113 CO 5:6; Calvin, Seneca Commentary, 7. 114 See section 4.3.4.

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There is also an important hermeneutical difference between Erasmus and Calvin. To be sure, both value the insights of Plato. If someone is searching for a proper definition of the soul, Calvin advises his readers to avoid all philosophers, except Plato who has “rightly affirmed its immortal substance.”115 At the same time, Geneva‟s reformer would never concede what Rotterdam‟s humanist so eagerly asserts, namely, that Plato is endowed with “divinely inspired knowledge.”116 Similarly, whereas Erasmus exhibits no qualms about dividing the soul into upper and lower compartments, based on a Platonic understanding of the Pantheon, Calvin repudiates all those “who would affirm more than one soul in man.”117 Although in many respects Erasmus and Calvin part ways concerning humanitas, they do agree, to some degree, about the imago Dei. Both men elaborate on the significance of the image of God by linking it, through Acts 17, to a parent-children relationship. It is true that Calvin, especially in his sermons on Genesis and Job, draws out the implications of this link far more than Erasmus does. Nonetheless, this striking similarity between the two thinkers should not be overlooked. Concerning the challenging question of how gender and the image of God relate to each other in 1 Corinthians 11, both men tackle the topic. However, by carefully distinguishing between earthly things and spiritual things, Calvin attempts to offer a concrete solution to the difficulty, while Erasmus, for all intents and purposes, appears to leave the question hanging in the air.

4.5 Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples Born in the town of Étaples in Picardy, Jacques Lefèvre became one of the more prominent and prolific figures of French humanism. He was also a significant stimulus for ecclesiastical reform in the era of King Francis I. Indeed, he has been hailed as the “pioneer of ecclesiastical renewal”118 and even the “John the Baptist of Protestantism”119 in France. Although he never obtained a doctorate of theology,120 he was an ordained priest, and he cer115

CO 2:140; OS 3:182–184; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.6. Erasmus, Enchiridion, 66:42. 117 CO 2:141; OS 3:182–184; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.6. 118 Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, Lefèvre: Pioneer of Ecclesiastical Renewal in France (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984). 119 John Woolman Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases of His Life and Work,” in Reformation Studies: Essays in Honor of Roland H. Bainton, ed. Franklin H. Littel (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1962), 124. 120 Guy Bedouelle, “Jacques Lefèvre d‟Etaples,” in The Reformation Theologians: An Introduction to Theology in the Early Modern Period, ed. Carter Lindberg (Oxford: Blackwell, 2002), 19. 116

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tainly served the church by publishing a French translation of the Scriptures, along with a number of commentaries on books of the Bible. Chronologically speaking, his first love was the rehabilitation of Aristotle‟s reputation. When Lefèvre began teaching at the Collège du CardinalLemoine in Paris, he quickly became disenchanted with the seemingly futile conundrums which occupied the minds and manuscripts of some medieval scholastics. However, unlike some of his other contemporaries, such as Erasmus and Luther, Lefèvre felt that the root cause of this ineffectual sophistry was not the use of Aristotelian logic, but rather the misuse thereof.121 Therefore, following the humanist principle of ad fontes, he took a fresh look at the writings of this Greek philosopher and sought to explain them accurately within their own historical context. Even a partial list of Lefèvre‟s publications reveals his zeal for restoring Aristotle‟s rightful place within the scholarship of the sixteenth century: Paraphrases of the Whole of Aristotle's Natural Philosophy (1492), Introduction to the Metaphysics (1494), Introduction to the Nicomachean Ethics (1494), Logical Introductions (1496), and Politics (1506). In addition to these writings, Lefèvre also travelled to Italy no less than three times in order to visit men like Ermolao Barbaro, Marsilio Ficino, and Pico della Mirandola, all of whom, in one way or the other, spurred him on in his passion to refurbish ancient Greek wisdom.122 Such was the first and philosophical component of the academic labours of Lefèvre, whose life is commonly divided into three phases.123 The second phase of Lefèvre‟s studies focuses more on mystical writers of the patristic and medieval eras. He became enthralled with the secondcentury visions of the Shepherd of Hermas and particularly with the writings of the sixth-century Areopagite Dionysius, or Pseudo-Dionysius as he is often called.124 Turning to the Middle Ages, Lefèvre produced an edition of Ramon Lull‟s Contemplations in 1505 and, nine years later, three volumes of the collected works of the German mystic, Nicholas of Cusa. This mystical phase is not only the chronological centre of Lefèvre‟s personal academic development, but it is also a cognitive focal point to which he returns throughout his life. As John Brush remarks, “the second phase, the mystical, colors not only his Aristotelian work, but […] it deeply affects the

Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases,” 118–9. Charles Garfield Nauert, Humanism and the Culture of Renaissance Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 114. 123 Eugene F. Rice, “The Humanist Idea of Christian Antiquity: Lefèvre d‟Étaples and His Circle,” Studies in the Renaissance 9 (1962): 126–34; Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases,” 117–24; Bedouelle, “Jacques Lefèvre d‟Etaples,” 19. 124 Bedouelle, “Jacques Lefèvre d‟Etaples,” 20. 121 122

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final or biblical chapter in his life.”125 In fact, at one point Lefèvre counsels his students how to progress in the pursuit of knowledge. He advises: For knowledge of natural philosophy, for knowledge of ethics, politics and economics, drink from the fountain of a purified Aristotle. Those who wish to set themselves a higher end and a happier leisure will prepare themselves by studying Aristotle‟s Metaphysics, which deals with first and supramundane philosophy. Turn from this to a reverent reading of Scripture, guided by Cyprian, Hilary, Origen, Jerome, Augustine, Chrysostom, Athanasius, Nazianzen, John of Damascus and other fathers. Once these studies have purified the mind and disciplined the senses (and provided one has extirpated vice and leads a suitable and upright life), then the generous mind may aspire to scale gradually the higher heights of contemplation, instructed by Nicholas of Cusa and the divine Dionysius and others like them.126

The very fact that Lefèvre places Nicholas and Dionysius on a higher level than Scripture indicates the stature and significance which he attributed to these men. Consequently, whether ancient or contemporaneous, the mystic streams of Dionysius, Nicholas of Cusa and even Pico, flowed through Lefèvre‟s soul. Unless this influence is acknowledged, the pioneer of French humanism cannot be properly understood. The final, and for our present purposes, the most important phase of Lefèvre‟s life is his biblical studies. In fact, even one of his most acrid critics, Noel Beda, syndic of the Sorbonne, identified Lefèvre as a humanista theologizans.127 Perhaps his most significant contribution in this area was his translation of the Bible into French, starting with the New Testament in 1524 and completing the entire Scriptures in 1528.128 In addition, he produced various commentaries, or annotations, on both the Old and New Testaments. Special mention should be made of his Psalterium Quincuplex (1509), his commentary on the Pauline Epistles (1512), and his commentary on the Gospels (1523). Finally, in 1525 a collection of homilies was published, likely in Paris, under the title Epistres et Evangiles pour les cinquante et deux dimenches de l'an. Although it is often attributed to Lefèvre‟s pen, it appears that one of his students, Gérard Roussel, made a major contribution to the book.129 Whatever the exact nature of its authorship, the Epistres et Evangiles demonstrates Lefèvre‟s conviction that scriptural teaching should not be sequestered in the halls of the Sorbonne, but

Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases,” 119. As quoted in Rice, “The Humanist Idea,” 126–7. 127 Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples, The Prefatory Epistles of Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples and Related Texts, ed. Eugene F. Rice (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972), xxiv. 128 Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples, La saincte Bible en Francoys (Anvers: Martin Lempereur, 1534). 129 Bedouelle, “Jacques Lefèvre d‟Etaples,” 28–9. 125 126

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must find its due place in the pulpits of the county churches and in the hearts of the common folk. Strictly speaking, these three phases of Lefèvre‟s life do not succeed each other, one being complete before the next commences. There is significant chronological overlap among the phases. For example, his edition of Nicholas of Cusa‟s corpus (1514) postdates his commentary on the Pauline Epistles (1512). Therefore, it may be better to speak of the three aspects, rather than phases, of his labour. Nonetheless, in order to gain a well-rounded impression of Lefèvre‟s teaching on humanitas and the imago Dei, one manuscript from each aspect will be briefly examined.

4.5.1 Paraphrases (1492) The first publication from Lefèvre‟s hand was his summary of Aristotle‟s philosophy. He admired the father of western wisdom as “the supreme leader of all genuine philosophers,”130 and with his Paraphrases he endeavoured to instil this esteem in his students as well. To that end Lefèvre provided his own brief introductions to Aristotle‟s main philosophical texts, including De Anima.131 It is particularly this introduction which provides a glimpse into Lefèvre‟s early thought concerning the human nature. Following in the footsteps of his ancient Greek mentor, Lefèvre divides all living beings into four distinct categories. He describes this division by writing: There are four degrees of being: the first, that which only grows physically, such as plants; the second, that which grows physically and has sensory capacities, such as the living things affixed to the earth; the third, that which grows physically, has sensory capacities and is capable of moving itself, such as the horse; the fourth, that which grows physically, has sensory capacities, is capable of moving itself and possesses intelligence, such as man.132

Two things are noteworthy in Lefèvre‟s description. In the first place, all life – from planthood to personhood – is part of a continuum. Here there is no indication whatsoever that human beings possess some sort of unique status among creatures, which is encapsulated in the term imago Dei. To be sure, humanitas is a higher step on the ladder of life, but it is still part of the same ladder. In the second place, the attribute that lifts human beings to a higher level is intelligence. Even though a horse also has a brain and, to a 130

Hughes, Lefèvre, 1. Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples, In Hoc Opere Continentur [Jacobi Fabri Stapulensis] Totius Philosophiae Naturalis Paraphrases (Paris: Henrici Stephani, 1510), 182–4 132 Lefèvre, Paraphrases, f182r; translation mine. 131

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certain degree, can also think, it is the cognitive ability to work with words and numbers, for instance, which lifts human beings up to the next step of subsistence.133 At the same time, at this early point in his philosophical development, Lefèvre‟s view of humanity is heavily influenced by Aristotle‟s positive perspective on the passions that live within every man, woman, and child. He sketches the inner workings of the heart as follows: Desire is the appetite for the good, or that which appears to be good. Thus it is the appetite for the good which is useful and enjoyable, such as the desire for riches or health.134

With such an optimistic view of the motivations that live within, there is little need for correction or transformation of the human soul. One would expect that given time, and possibly some guidance, most people will turn out just fine. Such buoyant expectations would not remain with Lefèvre throughout his life. Particularly his studies of the Pauline Epistles compelled him to look at things in a different light. However, before coming to that, it is helpful to take a brief look at the writing of someone whom Lefèvre held in even higher regard than Aristotle.

4.5.2 Opera Cusanus (1514) No superlative was considered too excessive when Lefèvre was lauding Nicholas of Cusa. In his preface to this collection, the priest from Picardy exalted the cardinal of Germany by saying that with respect to Christian theology he was “the greatest interpreter and teacher, and the most wise master of the heavenly mystery.”135 It stands to reason, therefore, that Lefèvre also approved of the cardinal‟s sermons. Nicholas preached throughout his days, from the time he was a young deacon until the year before his death.136 In his three volume edition of Nicholas of Cusa‟s writings Lefèvre includes excerpts from many of those sermons, including a sermon entitled “Ascribe to the Lord glory and honour.” From this sermon Lefèvre specifically extracts a paragraph concerning the honour that is due to those who have been created in the image of God. Apparently it was this section of the

133

Lefèvre, Paraphrases, f182v. Lefèvre, Paraphrases, f184r; translation mine. 135 Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples, Nicolai Cusae Cardinalis Opera (Paris: 1514; reprint, Frankfurt: Minerva, 1962), ii. 136 Christopher M. Bellitto, Thomas M. Izbicki and Gerald Christianson, eds., Introducing Nicholas of Cusa: A Guide to a Renaissance Man (New York: Paulist Press, 2004), 235. 134

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homily which caught his eye. To the congregation before him, Cardinal Nicholas preaches: In man we must honour the image of God. If we are commanded to show honour to an image of the Blessed Virgin, how much more to the image of the Trinity which is in man. Men must be honoured because of angels who are appointed as their guardians and because human nature is joined to the divine, and even slaves must not be despised. Just as you wish God to be towards you, so also you yourself ought to be towards your slave.137

This brief exposition on the imago Dei begins with a subtle readjustment of the priorities that many folk in the fifteenth century might have had concerning giving honour where honour is due. Without a doubt inanimate images of the Blessed Virgin were fervently venerated in a nearly ubiquitous fashion. However, Nicholas proceeds to drive home his point homiletically by asking, as it were, “What then of the animate image of the living God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit? Do we honour our fellow man as much as the Virgin Mary?” Obviously, the cardinal‟s concern was that too often stone statues received more honour than living human beings. Still, Nicholas provides more than rhetoric in this sermon. He also gives two specific reasons for honouring the image of God in human beings. The first is connected to their guardians, namely, the angels. In the medieval hierarchy of beings, angels filled in the rank just below God. Furthermore, in the minds of Nicholas‟ congregants, it would have gone without saying that any spiritual being that was a little less than God himself was worthy of great honour. However, Nicholas then turns this around and suggests that if angels are worthy of respect then so are those who are under their custodial care, namely, human beings. The cardinal states his second reason for giving dignity to humans in a very succinct manner – so succinct, in fact, that if it were not for the rest of his publications it would be difficult to ascertain his full intentions. However, in De coniecturis he is as bold as to state: Man therefore is God, but not absolutely, since he is man. Hence he is a human god. Man is also the world, but he is not everything by contraction, since he is man. Man is therefore a microcosm or, in truth, a human world. Thus, the region of humanity itself encloses God and the universal region in its human power. Thus man is able to be a human god, and as god, he is able humanly to be a human angel, a human beast, a human lion or bear, or anything else. Indeed, everything exists within the potentiality of humanity according to its mode.138

Herein lies the radical nature of Nicholas‟ thought. Combining the quotation directly above with the sermon cited earlier, it appears that the cardinal 137 138

Lefèvre, Nicolai Cusae Opera, 2.f30r-f30v; translation mine. As quoted in Watts, Nicolaus Cusanus, 109.

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from Cusa was prepared to say that human beings, yes even slaves, are able to become god, albeit in a human way. With that capacity for divinity within him, it should be obvious to one and all that man is worthy of honour. Also, given Lefèvre‟s unqualified commendation of Nicholas as the quintessential teacher of Christian theology, it would seem that Lefèvre agrees, at least to some degree, with the cardinal‟s inclination toward divinization.

4.5.3 Commentary on the Pauline Epistles (1512) To this point, Lefèvre‟s view of humanitas and the imago Dei has only been ascertained by indirect inference, gathering information from his work of editing and paraphrasing. In his commentary on the Pauline Epistles, though, Lefèvre provides his own view on the matter directly and candidly. Commenting on the first half of the third chapter of Colossians, Lefèvre writes: As many as come to Christ die in his death and rise again in his resurrection; for they do not rise unless they have first died. In this way they are made christiform [Christiformes], so that they may constitute his body. For it is necessary that the members of the whole body should be conformed to the head; otherwise we should have a monstrosity. This sort of conformity in other things is called relationship and proportion, but in the body of Christ it is Christiformity [Christiformitas]. When therefore they rise in the resurrection of Christ they also live by the life of Christ.139

It is possible that Lefèvre picked up this key term, Christiformity, from Nicholas of Cusa, although it is equally probable that he is simply paraphrasing a passage such as Galatians 4:19 where the apostle exclaims, “My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you, how I wish I could be with you now!”140 In any case, Christiformity is clearly a central theme in Lefèvre‟s theology, since he comes back to it numerous times in his commentary. For example, as he exegetes the second half of Colossians 3, he emphasizes that Christiformity must be not only outward but also inward, “following not the doctrines of men but our exemplar in heaven.”141 It is also a progressive formation in the likeness of the Saviour, continuing throughout life and finally being perfected in the life to come. This comes out in Lefèvre‟s explanation of 2 Corinthians 3:18 Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples, S. Pauli epistolae XIV ex Vulgata, adiecta intelligentia ex graeco, cum commentariis (Paris: 1512; reprint, Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog, 1978), f185v; Hughes, Lefèvre, 193. 140 Hughes, Lefèvre, 193. 141 Lefèvre, Pauline Epistles, f186v; Hughes, Lefèvre, 194. 139

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where he identifies the transformation “from glory to glory” as Christiformity being put into effect.142 Yet already in this life, being formed to image of Christ is something that must affect every area of life. In his explication of Ephesians 5, he says: Our whole good consists in the imitation of Christ; for his life is our example. His love is the form and source of our love, so that because of him who loved us we in turn should so love that we prefer to die rather than offend a neighbour or a member of Christ, in whom Christ has been formed, and who lives by the Spirit of Christ. Where this imitation of Christ is, where this love is present (for Christ is total love), not only will there not be fornication or any impurity, baseness, foolish talk, levity, and the seeking of this world‟s pleasures, but, as befits the saints and their converse with each other, they will not even be named.143

As he elaborates on his favourite theme, Lefèvre affirms that Christiformity cannot be accomplished by ourselves and is solely of God‟s grace.144 Yet it is striking that in his comments on Colossians 3, he motivates his readers to strive for Christiformity “otherwise we should have a monstrosity” because the body (the church) would be out of proper proportion with the head (Christ). Thus, Lefèvre does not stress that sin has destroyed the imago Dei and that this image must now be restored in and through Christ. In short, this French humanist appears to envision Christiformity as being a realignment of that which is crooked rather than a restoration of that which is utterly corrupt. 4.5.4 Lefèvre‟s View of Humanitas and Imago Dei Lefèvre begins with a decidedly Aristotelian perspective on the nature of humanity. He sees humanity as an elevated, but not unique, form of life. He also upholds an essentially optimistic view of the potential for humanitas to strive after all that is good. In this regard Lefèvre shows himself to be in line with other Renaissance humanists who promoted the free will of human beings, by which they can morally and intellectually ascend the hierarchy of being, so long as they put their heart and mind to the task. 145 Soon enough, this Aristotelian underpinning was augmented with insights garnered from 142

Lefèvre, Pauline Epistles, f183v; Hughes, Lefèvre, 194. Lefèvre, Pauline Epistles, f170r; Hughes, Lefèvre, 195. 144 Hughes, Lefèvre, 196. 145 Eugene F. Rice, “Jacques Lefèvre d‟Étaples and the Medieval Christian Mystics,” in Florilegium Historiale: Essays Presented to Wallace K. Ferguson, ed. J.G. Rowe and W.H. Stockdale (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971), 98–9; Hughes, Lefèvre, 38–9; Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases,” 125. Brush correctly reminds his readers that “such a concept as that of the hierarchy of being was part of his [Lefèvre‟s] mental fiber.” 143

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the mystical inclinations of Nicholas of Cusa. This influx of German mysticism into the mind of this French humanist brought with it an odd irony. On the one hand, Lefèvre speaks about the difference between humanity and divinity using the language of absolute opposites. Human nature is nothingness compared to the Allness of God.146 Yet, on the other hand, it is precisely in Nicholas that Lefèvre is exposed to the idea that humanity, for all of its nothingness, still has the potential to become divinity in a human way. Although mystical thought is typically comfortable with such paradoxes, Lefèvre comes to a different resolution of the apparent contradiction. He develops his notion of Christiformity. When Lefèvre sets aside philosophical and mystical writings and concentrates more upon the biblical text, he speaks less about humanitas and more about the likeness of God or, as he prefers to call it, conformity to Christ.147 For him the imago Christi is primarily imitatio Christi, which means that the virtuous lifestyle which Christ exhibited while he was a sojourner on this earth should also be emulated by Christians so long as they are pilgrim children travelling along the path of this present life.148 It would be unfair to say that Lefèvre‟s teaching about Christiformity is a scriptural veneer that is affixed upon the mental plank of his underlying philosophical mysticism. To be sure, it is much more than that. Lefèvre‟s devotion to the biblical text is genuine. Nevertheless, he is so steeped in the ideas of Aristotle and the conjectures of Nicholas that his thinking becomes a rather complex synthesis of Greek philosophy, German mysticism, and scriptural revelation. This synthesis has many implications and manifestations, but one thing is clear: for Lefèvre, the restoration of the imago Dei, or Christiformity as he calls it, means that the human race is given a most perfect Exemplar, Jesus Christ, to imitate both in this life and the next.149

4.5.5 Lefèvre and Calvin Compared There are at least three points of contact between Lefèvre and Calvin, one direct and two indirect. First, the most direct, yet also enigmatic, contact was the personal visit they had together at Marguerite d‟Angoulême‟s castle in Nérac as Calvin was fleeing Paris after the uproar caused by Nicholas Cop‟s rectoral address. According to Beza, during this tête-à-tête, the elder 146 Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases,” 125, 127. This sharp contrast between human nature and divine essence is particularly evident in Lefèvre‟s Quincuplex Psalterium. 147 Bedouelle, “Jacques Lefèvre d‟Etaples,” 30; Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases,” 126; Hughes, Lefèvre, 192–7. 148 Hughes, Lefèvre, 195–6. 149 Hughes, Lefèvre, 196.

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Lefèvre was “delighted with young Calvin, and predicted that he would prove a distinguished instrument in restoring the kingdom of heaven in France.”150 Beyond that precious little is known of what the two men discussed between themselves. Second, Guillaume Farel was one of Lefèvre‟s students at the monastery of Saint-German-de-Près. It was in that place and from that teacher that Farel first learned the doctrines of grace. 151 Since Farel and Calvin would later work together so closely in Geneva, it is a reasonable assumption that some of Lefèvre‟s teaching, filtered through Farel, also reached Calvin. Third, Martin Luther was influenced in a considerable way by the writings of Lefèvre, particularly his Psalterium Quincuplex and his commentary on the Pauline Epistles.152 Moreover, Calvin certainly held Luther in high esteem, even if he did not agree with him on every point.153 In short, Lefèvre and Calvin knew each other, and they both toiled passionately toward a similar goal: ecclesiastical reform within their beloved homeland. The question remains whether their respective understandings of human nature had as much in common as their cultural heritage. Concerning humanitas, the two Frenchmen work with fundamentally different orientations. Deep in the fibre of Lefèvre‟s mind there is a vertical understanding of the dignity of human beings. Whether they occupy the top rung of the ladder of life, as Aristotle indicates, or they stand on some step in the middle, as the great chain of being would suggest, Lefèvre works with a conception of humanity that either ascends or descends, depending on conduct and lifestyle. As noted earlier in this chapter, the framework of Calvin‟s thinking is stretched out along the timeline of redemptive history rather than the hierarchy of beings. Furthermore, unlike Lefèvre, Calvin does not speak of the nothingness of man. He affirms the dignity and rich adornment of human beings at creation. He also humbles humankind with the reality of their treachery against the Father‟s goodness toward them. Hence for Calvin the human being is either a dearly beloved child or a despicable rebel but at no time is he a “nothing.” Moreover, the differences which begin in the arena of humanitas naturally continue in the more specific realm of the imago Dei. For Lefèvre imago has everything to do with imitatio. Christiformity is imitatio Christi. Although Calvin certainly agrees that Christ must be imitated, the restoration of the image is a miraculous work of the Holy Spirit who does not merely realign, but entirely recreates. According to him, sin does not make 150 CO 21:123; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 1:xxv. On the significance of this visit see also Brush, “Lefèvre d‟Étaples: Three Phases,” 126; Hughes, Lefèvre, 196. 151 Hughes, Lefèvre, 95. 152 F. Hahn, “Faber Stapulensis und Luther,” ZKG 57 (1938): 400–4. 153 CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 28.

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the body fall out of proper proportion to its head, but it severs the body from the head. Therefore, Geneva‟s reformer insists that the restoration of the image involves a reunio Christi not just an imitatio Christi.

4.6 Conclusions This chapter began with the challenge of how humanism ought to be defined, as well as how Calvin‟s relationship to humanism should be described. Following Kristeller‟s thesis, it seems best to distinguish between particular humanism, which refers to a fairly well-defined set of academic and pedagogical methods, and general humanism, which includes a more philosophical and religious reflection on what human nature is and what it can become. Bearing this distinction in mind, the following conclusions can be drawn. 1. Studia humanitatis, or particular humanism, emphasized principles such as ad fontes and brevitas et claritas. So far as this goes, there is very little difference between the Renaissance humanists, such as Pico, Erasmus, or Lefèvre, and the Reformed theologian, John Calvin. All of them strove for those same ideals. At the same time, concerning the scope of ancient texts that they explored, as well as the authority which they attributed to these writings, there were differences. Calvin concentrated primarily on the Scriptures, which alone had divine authority for him. He also made much use of the church fathers for their wisdom and, to a much lesser degree, the Greek philosophers for their insights. By contrast Pico drew from almost every ancient literary source imaginable, from Jewish Cabalists to Arab theorists; Erasmus ascribed nothing less than divine inspiration to Plato; finally, at one point Lefèvre suggested that the writings of Dionysius were a step above the divine Scriptures. Therefore, although Calvin and the humanists employed a similar scholarly methodology, they relied on a different range of literary sources. 2. Closely connected to this, there was a hermeneutical difference between Calvin and the other three humanists. On the one hand, to one degree or another, Pico, Erasmus, and Lefèvre allowed room for an allegorical exegesis which was open to the sensus mysticus. On the other hand, Calvin adhered more consistently to a grammaticalhistorical manner of exegesis, looking for the sensus literalis simplex. 3. For the most part, the Renaissance humanists that have been investigated above were working with the great chain of being in the back

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of their minds. They encourage their readers to ascend the ladder of dignitas et humanitas by intellectual and moral exertion. Conversely, they warn against sliding down through excess attention to tangible and temporal things. Thus, in essence, they promote a hierarchical anthropology. However, Calvin works with a historical anthropology or, to be more precise, one that is based upon redemptive history. For him it is not a matter of which rung of hierarchy is being occupied, but which state of humanity is being considered: creation, fall, restoration, or glorification. The anthropology of the Renaissance humanists depends upon affirming the freedom of the will. Part of human dignity is having the liberty to ascend or descend according to personal desire. However, since moving up or down the chain of being is primarily a matter of morality and civility, it belongs, strictly speaking, to what Calvin would call the realm of earthly things. When Geneva‟s reformer speaks of the bondage of the human will, he refers to eternal righteousness before God, not ethical conduct for the good of society. Humanists such as Erasmus and Pico are trichotomists. They maintain that within the human nature there is a spirit that is naturally inclined toward the holiness of heaven, a body that is naturally tugging toward the base things of earth, while the soul is constantly being tugged in either direction. Calvin, who is a dichotomist, locates the dividing line in a different place. For him the dividing line is not primarily an ontological tension between the spiritual (spirit/soul) and the physical (body), but a historical difference between what the entire human nature was like at creation and what it became after the fall into sin. Renaissance humanists tend to portray human beings as a microcosm, collecting small portions of all created natures within themselves. In so doing, humans also hold all creation together like some kind of universal adhesive. For Calvin the special privilege of human beings is not that they somehow hold the created order together, but that, having been created in God‟s image, they are God‟s very own children. Conferred sonship rather than cosmic cement: such is the dignity of human beings in Calvin‟s estimation. At the same time, it should be noted that Erasmus also interpreted the imago Dei in terms of a parent-child relationship. The Father-children aspect of Calvin‟s view on the imago Dei helps him to maintain a close connection between divine and human, while at the same time avoiding any kind of deification. There are undercurrents and overtones of theosis in all three Renaissance humanists: Pico, Erasmus, and Lefèvre.

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8. Concerning the relation of gender to the imago Dei, Pico allegorizes the creation of male and female so that the two sexes actually represent two capacities of the soul. On this same topic, Erasmus avoids allegory, but he finds himself unable to provide a decisive explanation of how women are connected to God‟s image and, in turn, how 1 Corinthians 11 should be interpreted. Calvin does offer an explanation of this passage from 1 Corinthians, employing his oft-used distinction between earthly and eternal matters. Geneva‟s reformer may not have the last word on the topic of gender and image; however, he engages with la querelle des femmes more substantively than his humanist counterparts. 9. Over time Calvin became more open to the notion that dominion over creation is an aspect, albeit a small one, of the image of God. In part, this openness may be due to his high regard for Budé who makes an explicit connection between dominion and the imago Dei in his De Asse et Partibus. 10. The Renaissance humanists, just like Calvin, could speak of the image of God being “blotted out” by sin. This language, in and of itself, does not necessitate an excessively negative view of humanity. For example, a humanist like Pico had a decidedly optimistic view of humanity, and yet he spoke of how sin blots out God‟s image in human beings. 11. Calvin‟s mature understanding of humanitas should not be seen as a tension point with Renaissance humanism (contra van Eck) or a lingering precipitate of humanism (contra Breen & Battenhouse). Instead, it is an advance beyond the general perspective on humanity proposed by the humanists of that era. Humanists like Pico, Erasmus, and Lefèvre were optimistic that, given sufficient instruction and exhortation, human beings have the capacity to climb out of the mire of vice and ascend the ladder of virtue, until such a time as they become well-nigh divine. They also advocated Christ as the Ultimate Exemplar worthy of imitation. Inevitably the ship of their optimism ran aground on the sandbar of reality: the homo miraculum is more adept at achieving miseria than magnalia. By comparison, Calvin emphasizes the dignity which God bestowed on human beings at creation when he created them in his image. Although he does not underestimate the devastating effect that sin has had upon that dignity, he also sets forth the hope of renewal – not by imitating Christ the Exemplar but by believing in Christ the Restorer. Indeed, Calvin, too, proposed a homo miraculum, only the miracle is the transforming work of Christ‟s Spirit within humans, not the tireless efforts of humans trying to ascend unto God.

5. Calvin‟s Colleagues on the Imago Dei

As Calvin developed his view on the image of God, he interacted with the heritage of his theological forefathers and considered the Zeitgeist of his day. However, he also had to reckon with the fact that he had spiritual siblings, that is to say, reform-minded contemporaries. Names such as Martin Luther, Philip Melanchthon, Heinrich Bullinger, Martin Bucer, and Johannes Oecolampadius immediately come to mind. By the same token, spiritual siblings are not necessarily identical twins, and that is certainly the case with Calvin and the other reformers. As described below, Calvin‟s colleagues had their own distinctive insights into the created nature of human beings in general and the imago Dei in particular. Moreover, this diversity was amplified by geographical factors,1 polemical factors,2 and personal factors.3 Yet for all their personal idiosyncrasies, unity was still a high priority for the family of reformers. After all, any hint of dissension within the Protestant ranks only provided grist for the mockery mill that the papal theologians were only too happy to grind.4 However, was this theological unity among the reformers a matter of fact or a manufactured facade? More specifically, did Calvin‟s spiritual siblings have the same perspective on the image of God as he had? Conversely, if there were differences, were they substantial or peripheral? It is to these questions that we now turn. Since the scope of this study must be reasonably curtailed, only two of Calvin‟s colleagues will be investigated: Philip Melanchthon and Heinrich Bullinger. On the one hand, this selection is somewhat arbitrary, since other reformers also had valuable things to say 1 The local political scene within, as well as the demographics of, each city had an effect on how the Reformation did – or did not – take root. In this regard see Bernd Moeller, Imperial Cities and the Reformation (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1972); Steven E. Ozment, The Reformation in the Cities: The Appeal of Protestantism to Sixteenth Century Germany and Switzerland (London: Yale University Press, 1975). 2 For example, in Zurich Bullinger had to interact with the Swiss Brethren, while in Geneva Calvin dealt with the Libertines. A distinction should be made between the politically active Libertines, also known as Perrinists, and the spiritual Libertines, led by Quintin of Hainaut and Anthony Pocquet. See George H. Williams, The Radical Reformation (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1962), 604–5 and Ross Williams Collins, Calvin and the Libertines of Geneva (Toronto: Clarke, Irwin & Co., 1968). For the radical reformation in Zurich see Williams, Radical Reformation, 118–48; concerning the radicals in Geneva see Williams, Radical Reformation, 580–614. 3 In addition to his well-known Loci Communes, Melanchthon wrote books on philosophy, e.g., Books on Dialectics 1528 (CR 13:513–752), rhetoric, e.g., Elements of Rhetoric 1529 (CR 13:417– 506), and natural science, e.g., Introduction to Physical Teachings 1550 (CR 13:179–412). 4 Albert Pighius wasted no time trying to exploit what he regarded as contradictions between the various reformers. See Calvin‟s response in Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 28–9.

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about the imago Dei. On the other hand, there are at least two worthwhile reasons for choosing Melanchthon and Bullinger. In the first place, Melanchthon published extensively on matters pertaining to the human soul and body, both from a theological and a philosophical perspective.5 Given Melanchthon‟s passion for studia humanitatis, this is not surprising.6 For his part, Bullinger was also well educated in the rudiments of humanism. 7 However, he did not write as much about the anthropological locus as Melanchthon did. Nevertheless, although he has been underestimated in the modern era,8 the influence of Zurich‟s preacher was so widespread in the sixteenth century that it would be unwise to omit him. Second, by making a comparison between Melanchthon and Calvin, a connecting line is drawn between two major focal points of the Reformation: Wittenberg and Geneva. By adding Zurich via Bullinger, the geographic and ethnic triangle is at least somewhat complete, encompassing the Germans, the Swiss, and the French.

5.1 Philip Melanchthon 5.1.1 Personal Relationship The personal relationship between John Calvin and Philip Melanchthon has received diverse appraisals. One opinion is that they were “intimate friends,”9 while another assessment suggests that there were “profound tensions” between the two which nearly broke out into “open warfare.”10 5 For example, the Loci Communes (1555) contain his anthropology from a theological perspective; see Philip Melanchthon, Melanchthon on Christian Doctrine: Loci Communes, 1555, ed. Clyde L. Manschreck, trans. Clyde L. Manschreck (New York: Oxford University Press, 1965), 39–82. By comparison, his Liber de Anima (1540) presents his anthropology from a more philosophical point of view (CR 13:5–178). 6 For example, Melanchthon‟s extensive knowledge of, and publications about, the trivium are introduced by Deszo Buzogany, “Melanchthon As a Humanist and a Reformer,” in Melanchthon in Europe. His Work and Influence Beyond Wittenberg, ed. Karin Maag (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1997). 7 Concerning Bullinger‟s humanist education see Kurt Jakob Rüetschi, “Bullinger and the Schools,” in Architect of Reformation: An Introduction to Heinrich Bullinger, 1504–1575, ed. Bruce Gordon and Emidio Campi (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 215–8. 8 Aurelio A. Garcia, “Bullinger‟s Friendship with Calvin: Loving One Another and Edifying the Churches,” in Calvin Studies Society Papers, 1995, 1997: Calvin and Spirituality, Calvin and His Contemporaries, ed. Daniel Foxgrover (Grand Rapids: CRC Product Services, 1998), 119. 9 John T. Hickman, “The Friendship of Melanchthon and Calvin,” WTJ 38 (1975): 152; cf. Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958), 8:387. 10 Timothy J. Wengert, “„We Will Feast Together in Heaven Forever‟: The Epistolary Friendship of John Calvin and Philip Melanchthon,” in Melanchthon in Europe. His Work and Influence Beyond Wittenberg, ed. Karin Maag (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1997), 21, 29.

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How is it possible that one and the same relationship is evaluated in such contrasting, if not contradictory, ways? Is the historical evidence so unclear? Before answering these questions directly, a few facts ought to be mentioned in order to bring the historical context into focus. One thousand kilometres separated Calvin and Melanchthon. This distance was bridged occasionally but not without difficulties and delays. The two reformers met for the first time at the Diet of Frankfurt in 1539. There they could discuss at length matters of common concern such as the presence of Christ at the Lord‟s Supper, discipline within the church, and the lingering use of Roman ceremonies in Protestant worship.11 Although it was a mutually edifying discussion, some of Melanchthon‟s co-delegates from Wittenberg were hesitant about Calvin‟s viewpoint, particularly on the Lord‟s Supper. For this reason, Melanchthon downplayed his concurrence with Calvin in order to keep peace with his fellow Wittenbergers.12 Two years later, at the Diet of Ratisbon, these two reformers met for the second – and last – time in their lives. Yet on that occasion, Calvin‟s thoughts were preoccupied with the plague in Strasbourg that was threatening his family, as well as Geneva‟s solicitation for him to return to that city.13 Similarly, Melanchthon‟s heart was so burdened by the scandalous bigamy of Philip of Hesse that he felt he was being dragged down nigh to the grave.14 These were hardly the conditions in which to have a productive tête-à-tête with a colleague! For the rest, Melanchthon and Calvin developed their relationship through correspondence. In total there are twenty-nine extant letters between them.15 Yet even then, the tardiness and carelessness of couriers often interrupted their epistolary exchanges. On 6 February 1543, Calvin complains about a lazy fellow who took four months to deliver one of Melanchthon‟s letters, which in the meantime became “crushed and rumpled with much rough usage.”16 A few months later, Melanchthon informs Calvin that he had hoped to obtain a copy of Calvin‟s rebuttal to Pighius, including the preface dedicated to him, at the Frankfurt book fair. Unfortunately, a delay at the publishers prevented that from happening.17 Then, some years later, on 27 August 1554, Geneva‟s pastor writes to Wittenberg‟s professor, expressing his surprise and disappointment that Melanchthon did not answer

11 Randall C. Zachman, John Calvin As Teacher, Pastor and Theologian: The Shape of His Writings and Thought (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), 32–4. 12 Zachman, John Calvin, 32–3. 13 Zachman, John Calvin, 35. 14 Zachman, John Calvin, 35. 15 Wengert, “We Will Feast Together,” 19–20. 16 CO 11:515; Calvin, Letters, 1:373. 17 Melanchthon to Calvin, 11 May 1543, CO 11:540.

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his last letter.18 These kinds of impediments obviously hindered their communication, which in turn hampered the bond between them. In short, Melanchthon‟s relationship with Calvin ought to be evaluated within a framework of realistic expectations. There was indeed a spiritual kinship between the men since they agreed on most points of doctrine.19 Yet it would be fallacious to infer from their theological affinity that they were chummy friends or inseparable siblings. Long distances and delayed letters joined forces to preclude the possibility of the two reformers becoming intimate confidants.20 Conversely, no one should be too surprised when Calvin questions Melanchthon‟s reticence to speak out about the Lord‟s Supper,21 or when Melanchthon wonders aloud if Calvin is beginning to major on doctrinal minors.22 Musings such as these are not necessarily evidence that these allies were gradually turning into enemies. Rather, they can be interpreted as two leaders of the Reformation earnestly striving to pinpoint precisely where the other man was coming from, especially since they were unable to meet in person, other than the two colloquies mentioned above. In this regard, it is worth taking note of Calvin‟s exclamation in a letter to Melanchthon: “Would that we might have an opportunity of talking over these matters face to face!”23 A couple years later he expressed a similar wish to Farel when he wrote, “In one three-hour conversation I could come further with him [Melanchthon] than in a hundred letters!”24 Circumstances prevented Calvin from ever fulfilling his desire. Nevertheless, in their correspondence these ecclesiastical leaders acted according to that ancient adage: “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another” (Prov 27:17). They respected each other enough to correspond candidly,25 but they had no intention of 18

CO 15:215; Calvin, Letters, 3:61. From his side Melanchthon expresses his confidence that there will be agreement between Calvin and himself at the end of his letter of 11 May 1543. He writes: scio haec cum tuis congruere (CO 11:542). Likewise, from his side Calvin expresses his theological solidarity with Melanchthon in CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 29. Various scholars have also noted the widespread agreement between the two. See Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno,” 352; M.A. van den Berg, “Calvijn en Melanchthon, een Beproefde Vriendschap,” Theologia Reformata 41, no. 2 (1998): 80–1. 20 Contra Williston Walker, John Calvin: The Organiser of Reformed Protestantism (London: Putnam‟s Sons, 1909), 239. He describes the bond with Melanchthon as “one of the most winsome” relationships that Calvin had. Also contra Hickman, “The Friendship,” 152. He describes the two reformers as “intimate friends.” 21 Calvin to Bullinger, 23 February 1558, CO 17:61; Calvin, Letters, 3:410–1. 22 CO 11:540. 23 Calvin to Melanchthon, 28 November 1552, CO 14:417; Calvin, Letters, 2:380. 24 Calvin to Farel, 27 November 1554, CO 15:321; cf. van den Berg, “Calvijn en Melanchthon,” 79. 25 CO 13:594; Calvin, Letters, 2:271. 19

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engaging each other in battle.26 Rather, in the forge of mutual exhortation, the mettle of their collegial relationship was refined.27

5.1.2 Of Letters and Treatises This collegial, epistolary relationship between Melanchthon and Calvin gives rise to a methodological question. To what degree should personal correspondence be used in determining a theologian‟s position on any given doctrine? For example, in their theological treatises, both reformers venture into one of the most pressing anthropological debates of their era, namely, the relation of divine sovereignty to the human will. Melanchthon treats it in his Loci,28 while Calvin addresses it both in the Institutes29 and in his Bondage and Liberation of the Will.30 Roundabout the publication date of Calvin‟s reply to Pighius, this same topic comes up in their personal correspondence. To be sure, these letters provide valuable information. For instance, in his letter of 11 May 1543, Melanchthon expresses his appreciation for, and agreement with, Calvin‟s treatise.31 At the same time, Wittenberg‟s professor delineates two of his main concerns. First, he hopes that in this debate over the human will, Calvin and he will continue to focus on the central doctrines of grace,32 rather than becoming entangled again in all manner of scholastic minutiae. Second, he clearly wants to avoid even the slightest suggestion that God is the author of sin.33 In a similar vein, in 1546 Calvin publishes a French translation of Melanchthon‟s Loci. In the preface to this translation, Calvin acknowledges that Melanchthon concedes a certain liberty to the human will in matters that belong to this earthly life.34 He also affirms that concerning all things spiritual and salvific, Melanchthon attributes nothing to man and everything to God‟s glory.35 Therefore, he advises the reader to keep Melanchthon‟s main intention in mind and not to 26 Calvin was well aware that damaging or endangering their relationship would do great injury to the church. CO 14:415; Calvin, Letters, 2:377. 27 See also van den Berg, “Calvijn en Melanchthon” who makes essentially the same point in his essay. 28 In the first edition of his Loci attention is given to the human will in Article 1. See CR 21:86ff; Philip Melanchthon, “Loci Communes Theologici (1521),” in Melanchthon and Bucer, ed. Wilhelm Pauck (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1969), 22–30. In the final edition of his Loci Melanchthon moves this topic to Article 5. See CR 21:652ff; Melanchthon, Loci 1555, 51–69. 29 CO 2:185–209; OS 3:241–271; Calvin, Institutes, 2.2.1–27. 30 CO 6:229ff; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will. 31 CO 11:540. 32 CO 11:540. 33 CO 11:541. 34 CO 5:849. 35 CO 5:849.

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stumble over his consideration of the power of the will in earthly things. 36 Again, these direct comments from Calvin about Melanchthon‟s anthropology are certainly illuminating. At the same time, there is an inherent limitation in our understanding of prefaces written in the sixteenth century, and even more so, in our interpretation of letters which originate from that era. Simply put, the problem is this: we no longer have access to all the external circumstances and inner motivations that have been funnelled into any given piece of correspondence. A case in point is the letter which Melanchthon wrote to his friend, Joachim Camerarius, on 1 February 1552.37 In this letter, Melanchthon expresses his consternation that Jerome Bolsec has been incarcerated in Geneva for voicing his opposition to an excessively deterministic understanding of God‟s sovereignty. To be precise he writes, “But see the madness of this age! The Genevan battles over Stoic necessity are such that a certain person who disagreed with Zeno was thrown into prison.”38 From this brief citation, some have assumed that “Zeno” is Melanchthon‟s nickname for Calvin.39 If this is indeed the case, then Wittenberg‟s professor is pressing the rhetorical charge that Geneva‟s reformer is guilty of teaching philosophical stoicism rather than biblical sovereignty. However, it is far from certain that Melanchthon was referring to Calvin as “Zeno.” A fuller citation from the letter in question reads as follows: But see the madness of this age! The Genevan battles over Stoic necessity are such that a certain person who disagreed with Zeno was thrown into prison. Lelius recounts that it is a leader concerning whom he has written, lest he dispute too vehemently. Yes, and the Swiss are meek. I await your letter.40

It seems quite certain that this “leader” to whom Melanchthon refers is indeed John Calvin. However, although Calvin is called the “leader” in one sentence, this does not necessarily mean that he is the “Zeno” of the previous sentence. It is equally possible that when Melanchthon refers to “Zeno,” he is simply personifying the entire philosophical school of Stoicism by referring to its founder.41 If “Zeno” is interpreted in this way, then Melanch36

CO 5:849. CR 7:930–31. 38 CR 7:930; cf. Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno,” 346. 39 Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno,” 345–6; Wengert, “We Will Feast Together,” 31, see note 53. 40 CR 7:930. 41 This is, more or less, the manner in which Heinz Scheible interprets it when he substitutes “Prädestination” for the original Latin, Zenone. See Heinz Scheible, ed., Melanchthons Briefwechsel: Kritische und kommentierte Gesamtausgabe (Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog, 1977-), no. 6322. It is also helpful to compare this to another letter that Melanchthon wrote on the same day to Casper Peucer on exactly the same topic. In this letter he again connects Stoica necessitate with Zenone; however, he does not make any explicit mention of Calvin by name, nor to “the leader,” 37

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thon‟s main point is not that Calvin is a Stoic, but that the flames of the Bolsec controversy are starting to rage out of control. Furthermore, he hopes that Calvin, as a leader, will have the wisdom to contain the blaze rather than stoke the fire. In the end, regardless of how this one particular letter ought to be understood – and perhaps we will never know with absolute certainty – the methodological issue remains. The collections of correspondence from the quills of Melanchthon and Calvin are treasure troves of colourful insight into how these men thought about the personalities and positions of their contemporaries. At the same time, personal letters from the sixteenth century must be used with caution, especially when the goal is to ascertain a particular theological position of a certain correspondent. Despite all their fascinating historical details, the exact intent of the author is often obscured by factors such as the brevity of the letter itself, the health and mood of the author on that particular day, and finally, the numerous lacunae in our present comprehension of the circumstances leading up to the correspondence. Therefore, while personal correspondence can add a dash of extra texture or colour here and there, sources such as theological treatises, commentaries, and confessions should still be the primary palette from which we paint the theology of Calvin and his contemporaries. With this in mind, we turn to a more detailed comparison of how Calvin and Melanchthon viewed the nature of human beings in general, and the imago Dei in particular.

5.1.3 Melanchthon on the Human Will Wittenberg‟s professor and Geneva‟s pastor approached the doctrine of human nature from different starting points. Already in his earliest writings, such as the Psychopannychia, the Épître à tous amateurs de Iésus Christ, and the first edition of the Institutes, Calvin describes human beings from the vantage point of the imago Dei. By contrast, Melanchthon commences his writings on the nature of human beings from the perspective of the human will. Notably, the title of the first chapter in the first edition of his Loci Communes (1521) is “The Power of Man, Especially Free Will (Liberum Arbitrium).”42 In due time, he also considers the imago Dei in detail. Yet his most elaborate exposition of the image of God is in his Liber de Anima, which was not published until 1552. Therefore, just as we

as he did in his letter to Camerarius. This time Scheible muddies the waters when he inserts “[Calvins]” into his translated summary of the letter. CR 7:932; Melanchthons Briefwechsel, no. 6324. 42 CR 21:86; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 22.

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walked along chronologically with Calvin, starting where he started, we will do the same with Melanchthon, beginning with his view on the human will and thereafter progressing to his understanding of the image of God. As soon as Philip Melanchthon and the human will are mentioned within the same sentence, a question will inevitably follow; namely, was Melanchthon a synergist?43 John Drickamer has a straightforward answer to this question: Melanchthon definitely did become a synergist. In the early days of the Reformation he taught divine monergism in strong terms. He sided with Luther during the controversy with Erasmus and his confessional writings taught monergism. By the middle 1530s, however, he was already leaning heavily in the direction of synergism. In the later period of his life, he definitely taught this error.44

When Drickamer identifies the 1530s as the precipice of Melanchthon‟s slippery slide toward synergism, he is actually referring to the second edition of the Loci Communes in which the reformer of Wittenberg writes, “In this instance we see that the following causes are joined together: the Word, the Holy Spirit, and the will, not at all superfluously but fighting against its own weakness.”45 Since this citation about the tres causae has become the epicentre of much debate,46 it is worthwhile to take a careful and contextual look at Melanchthon‟s theological development on this particular point.

43 Melanchthon is well-known as a reformer who, at the very least, entertained the idea that the human will is free to choose certain things under certain circumstances. Cf. Jaroslav Pelikan, From Luther to Kierkegaard: A Study in the History of Theology (St. Louis: Concordia, 1963), 44. One must also be careful how the term “synergism” is used. This point is rightly raised by Richard A. Muller, Dictionary of Latin and Greek Theological Terms: Drawn Principally From Protestant Scholastic Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1985), 294. 44 John M. Drickamer, “Did Melanchthon Become a Synergist?” The Springfielder 40, no. 2 (1976): 100. 45 Drickamer, “Synergist,” 97–8. 46 The controversy over tres causae began during Melanchthon‟s lifetime and continued after his death, until the writing of the Formula of Concord (1577). See Lowell C. Green, “The Three Causes of Conversion in Philipp Melanchthon, Martin Chemnitz, David Chytraeus, and the „Formula of Concord‟,” Lutherjahrbuch 47 (1980). For more recent discussion of the matter see inter alios: Clyde L. Manschreck, “Reason and Conversion in the Thought of Melanchthon,” in Reformation Studies: Essays in Honor of Roland H. Bainton, ed. Franklin H. Littell (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1962), 173–80; E. P. Meijering, Melanchthon and Patristic Thought: The Doctrines of Christ and Grace, the Trinity and the Creation (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1983), 133–7; Timothy J. Wengert, Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness: Philip Melanchthon‟s Exegetical Dispute with Erasmus of Rotterdam (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 139–48; Oswald Bayer, “Freedom? The Anthropological Concepts in Luther and Melanchthon Compared,” HTR 91, no. 4 (1998): 379–81, trans. Christine Helmer; Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno,” 364–78.

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5.1.3.1 Loci Communes (1521) As Drickamer proposes, there is no reason to question Melanchthon‟s commitment to the complete sovereignty of God‟s grace in the first edition of his Loci Communes. Without equivocation, he asserts that to give room for the free will (liberum arbitrium) is to obscure the benefits of Christ. 47 Instead, “since all things that happen, happen necessarily according to divine predestination, our will (voluntas) has no liberty.”48 This is monergism – full-blooded and undiluted. At the same time, Melanchthon is sympathetic toward those “young minds” and “tender little ears”49 that may find his position unduly harsh. Consequently, he qualifies his comments when he concedes: But if you think of the power of the human will (voluntas) as a capacity of nature, according to human reason it cannot be denied that there is in it a certain freedom in outward works. For instance, you yourself have experienced that it is in your power to greet a man or not to greet him, to put on this coat or not to put it on, to eat meat or not to do so.50

Added to that, Melanchthon will grant that by sheer will-power someone might even suppress his hatred of another person and treat his enemy cordially and compassionately.51 Nonetheless, even if ancient philosophers and medieval schoolmen alike put significant stock in such exercises of the will, they remain nothing more than an external, hypocritical façade. Furthermore, “since God looks not at external works but at the inner disposition of the heart,”52 the Almighty deems this façade to be a deceitful demerit rather than a meritorious motivation. In short, as Melanchthon points out at the end of his locus on “Human Strength,” much depends on the context to which the human will is being related. He summarizes his position as follows: If you relate human will (voluntas) to predestination, there is freedom neither in external nor internal acts, but all things take place according to divine determination. If you relate the will (voluntas) to external acts, according to natural judgment there seems to be a certain freedom. If you relate the will (voluntas) to the affections, there is clearly no freedom, even according to natural judgment. When an affection has begun to rage and seethe, it cannot be kept from breaking forth. 53

47

CR 21:86; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 23. CR 21:87–8; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 24. 49 CR 21:91; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 26. 50 CR 21:90; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 26–7. 51 CR 21:91; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 28. 52 CR 21:90; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 27. 53 CR 21:93; Melancthon, Loci 1521, 30. 48

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5.1.3.2 Loci Communes (1535) When Melanchthon began revamping his Loci in the 1530s,54 he again concedes that people are able to do externally good deeds,55 as he did in his first edition. However, there is another concern which must be addressed. When people hear that, sine Spirito sancto, their wills are utterly incapable of pleasing God, their consciences may suffocate and they may not even bother trying to obey or believe in God.56 With pastoral intent, he goes on to counsel that since the Lord promises the help of the Spirit in his Word, no one should sit back passively. Instead, everyone should take hold of the promised help, fight against the infirmities of the soul, and strive to serve the Lord.57 Finally, it is in this context that Melanchthon makes his (in)famous statement: “In this instance we see that the following causes are joined together: the Word, the Holy Spirit, and the will, not at all superfluously but fighting against its own weakness.”58 However, what kind of constrained consciences is Melanchthon counselling in this passage? Unregenerate ones or regenerate ones? It must be acknowledged that he does not explicitly answer this question, one way or the other. Often the assumption is made that when he writes “in this instance,” he is referring to the situation in which an unregenerate person comes to genuine faith in Christ.59 To be sure, if this is true, then Melanchthon would be sliding in the direction of semi-Pelagianism, since in the end he would be saying that three causes join forces to effect regeneration: the Word, the Holy Spirit, and the as-yet-unregenerate will. However, the context reveals that when he writes “in this instance,” he is speaking about the Apostle Paul‟s encouraging promise in Romans 8:26, that is, “The Spirit helps us in our weakness.”60

54 In the first edition Melanchthon‟s locus on “Human Strength” is the very first chapter of his book; in the second edition it becomes the sixth, following, for example, his loci concerning “God,” “The Trinity,” “Creation,” and “The Cause of Sin.” This new juxtaposition of “The Cause of Sin” and “Human Strength and Free Will” sheds light on one of his key motivations: he wants all his readers to understand that when it comes to sin, the blame rests on the shoulders of human beings and the devil, but when it comes to salvation, the credit must be given to God. 55 CR 21:376. 56 CR 21:376. 57 CR 21:376. 58 CR 21:376; Lat. In hoc exemplo videmus coniungi has causas, Verbum, Spiritum sanctum, et voluntatem, non sane otiosam, sed repugnantem infirmitati suae. 59 See Drickamer, “Synergist,” 98, where the author interprets hoc exemplo as “conversion.” Also compare Wengert, Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness, 143–4, who associates it with “the doctrine of justification,” as does Bayer, “Freedom,” 379. Finally, see Faber, R., “Humanism of Melanchthon and Calvin,” 23, who links it to “salvation.” 60 CR 21:376; Lat. Sicut inquit Paulus (Rom. 8:26): Spiritus adiuvat infirmitatem nostram. In hac lucta hortandus est animus, ut omni conatu retineat verbum.

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Therefore, it is pertinent to ask whether Melanchthon understood Romans 8:26 as a passage that speaks about renati or non renati. Concerning the previous chapter, the controversial Romans 7, Melanchthon taught that the apostle is speaking about those who are regenerate.61 Thus, one would expect that he would carry this hermeneutical outlook along into chapter 8 as well. In fact, this expectation is confirmed by turning to his Commentary on Romans. Already in his comments on Rom 8:22, Melanchthon makes it clear that he is speaking about the trials of “the church,”62 and concerning verse 23 he adds that members of the church “struggle with the consciousness of our sins and offences, with terrors of the devil, with our infirmity, with dangers and persecutions on the outside, and await liberation.”63 However, lest anyone suppose that waiting for the ultimate liberation from struggles is a merely passive thing, he goes on to elucidate verse 26 as follows: But how is the Holy Spirit given, and how does he work? I answer: When we sustain ourselves by the Word in these struggles, and call upon God. Paul here links these two together, as it is said very often in the Psalms: “My soul sustained itself in his Word” [Ps. 119:50].64

Ironically, in his very last comment about Rom 8:26, Melanchthon declares, “Moreover this topic also supplies us with a testimony against the Pelagians, who imagine that people are made righteous and are saved without the Holy Spirit.”65 Therefore, whereas some have suspected that the preceptor of Germany opens the door to synergism in the second edition of his Loci, it turns out that he is speaking about the struggle of the saints to persevere, and more specifically about Rom 8:26, a passage which he regarded as a sound refutation of Pelagian synergism.66

61 Richard A. Muller, “„Scimus enim quod lex spiritualis est‟: Melanchthon and Calvin on the Interpretation of Romans 7.14–23,” in Philip Melanchthon (1497–1560) and the Commentary, ed. Timothy J. Wengert and M. Patrick Graham (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 229–30. 62 CR 15:669; Philip Melanchthon, Commentary on Romans, trans. Fred Kramer (St. Louis: Concordia, 1992), 177. 63 CR 15:669; Melanchthon, Romans, 177. 64 CR 15:673; Melanchthon, Romans, 180. 65 CR 15:674; Melanchthon, Romans, 181; emphasis mine. 66 See also Green, “Three Causes”. This author comes to substantially the same conclusion, but for different reasons. He explains that conversio in the sixteenth century could refer to: 1) the moment when the Holy Spirit changes an unregenerate person into a believer or 2) the ongoing process of daily sanctification in the lives of believers. He argues that when Melanchthon does speak of the activity of the will in connection with conversio he has the second meaning in mind. Furthermore, he also points out that not only Martin Luther, but also Martin Chemnitz did not voice any disagreement with Melanchthon‟s second edition of the Loci. If anyone had a good nose to sniff out any whiff of synergism, surely it was one of these two Martins!

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5.1.3.3 Loci Communes (1555) In the final edition of his Loci, Melanchthon divides the “Human Strength and Free Will” locus into two distinct parts: “The First Answer,” which deals with the will in the unregenerate and the “The Second Answer,” which focuses on the will in the regenerate. Obviously, what was implicit in the second edition becomes explicit in the third. In “The First Answer” he elaborates – at quite some length compared to the second edition – about why the unregenerate should endeavour to do good deeds, even if they are only able to perform external righteousness in the civil matters of things below. He outlines four reasons: 1) all men are obliged to obey God; 2) to escape God‟s punishment; 3) so that other people may have peace; and 4) because the law is the schoolmaster that leads people to Christ.67 By providing this rationale for external righteousness, Melanchthon hopes that especially the “young people”68 will hold themselves back from a licentious lifestyle. Thereafter, in “The Second Answer,” Wittenberg‟s professor explains that, of its own strength, the human will cannot begin, nor continue, in the firm faith and genuine obedience which God requires.69 God‟s holy requirements will be met only when and where God‟s Spirit is at work. Interestingly, when he writes about the struggle of the saints to persevere under trial, Melanchthon once again uses Rom 8:26 to encourage those whose faith is weak. However, compared to the second edition, he makes two changes. In the first place, immediately before his reference to Rom 8:26, he now inserts a citation from Mark 9:24. “Lord, I believe, but I beg you to help my weak belief.”70 In this way it is abundantly obvious that he is referring to the renati rather than the non renati. Second, he simply deletes the entire sentence about tres causae. Perhaps some two decades of further reflection had led Melanchthon to the conclusion that, at least in that particular context, speaking about three concurrent causes was not edifying. In any case, he did not hesitate to drop it. To sum up, Melanchthon had a keen interest in the capacity of the corrupt human will to perform external righteousness in the things of civil life here below. On the one hand, he stressed that this outward righteousness counts for nothing in the eyes of God who judges according to the inner motivations of the heart. On the other hand, Melanchthon had a strong desire to restrain immorality within society, especially among the youth. To that end, he urged that the corruption of the will should never be used as an 67

CR 22:150–53; Melanchthon, Loci 1555, 54–6. CR 22:150; Melanchthon, Loci 1555, 54. 69 CR 22:154–55; Melanchthon, Loci 1555, 57–8. 70 CR 22:158; Melanchthon, Loci 1555, 61. 68

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excuse for profligacy. However, concerning the capacity of the human will in things above, Melanchthon is fundamentally, although not flawlessly, consistent in his rejection of Pelagian and semi-Pelagian teachings. It is true that his statement in 1535 about tres causae is neither particularly clear nor helpful. However, when it is read contextually, every indication is that Melanchthon was not intending to compromise the sovereignty of God‟s grace. Instead, he was endeavouring to encourage struggling saints. So, contra Drickamer, Melanchthon did not become a synergist.

5.1.4 Melanchthon and Calvin on the Human Will While Melanchthon has been often suspected of synergism, Calvin has been frequently charged with Stoicism. Starting in the Painted Porch of Athens, the Greek philosophical school of the Stoics evolved through diverse leaders and various phases, spanning from the fourth century BC until the second century AD. For this reason simplistic descriptions of Stoicism ought to be astutely avoided. At the same time, it is safe to say that Fate plays a key role in all types of Stoic thought.71 Furthermore, it is precisely fatalism with which Calvin has been charged. D. Miall Edwards frames the accusation as follows: In Calvinism divine omnipotence is but little removed from the inexorable εἱμαεμένη (Fate) of Stoicism or Kismet of Mohammedanism, and men become mere pawns in the hands of the Almighty. It takes Sovereignty in abstraction from God‟s total Being as Father-King: it isolates His will from His whole nature and character.72

Some scholarly work has been done to absolve Calvin from the charge of excessive, insensitive determinism.73 Nevertheless, once acquired, reputations are hard to erase.74 So, the question still lingers: is Calvin‟s theology infected with some viral strain of Stoic fatalism?

71 G.T. Burke, “Stoics, Stoicism,” in Evangelical Dictionary of Theology, ed. Walter A. Elwell (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1984). This school of Hellenistic thought was started by Zeno of Citium (335–263 BC), followed by Cleanthes of Assos (331–232 BC) and Chrysippus of Soli (280– 207 BC). Later leaders included Seneca (4 BC – 64 AD), Epictetus (55–135 AD) and Marcus Aurelius (121–180 AD). 72 As quoted in Partee, “Calvin and Determinism,” 123. 73 Inter alios see Partee, “Calvin and Determinism”; A.N.S. Lane, “Did Calvin Believe in Freewill?” Vox Evangelica 12 (1981); Leith, “The Doctrine of the Will”; Vincent Brümmer, “Calvin, Bernard and the Freedom of the Will,” RelS 30 (1994). 74 For example, see Hoitenga, John Calvin and the Will, 69–70, who asserts that Calvin thinks so highly of divine sovereignty and so lowly of the human will that “he cannot explain adequately the moral character of human action […] when it still makes choices between good and evil.”

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In the Épître à tous amateurs de Iésus Christ, Calvin states that at creation God established a Father-children relationship between himself and Adam and Eve.75 Thus, Calvin teaches that God looked upon the first human beings with warm, paternal regard not cold, deterministic rigour.76 Indeed, even after Adam and Eve alienated themselves from God, there is still a sense in which the Almighty looks upon the fallen human race with the eye of a father.77 Closely connected to this, Calvin has no patience for those who imply that human beings are essentially nothing more than animals that speak eloquently and stand erectly. For instance, already in his Psychopannychia, he soundly condemned the psychoktonoi, exclaiming that if the human soul dies, how will it be “distinguished from the souls of brutes?”78 Yet there is even more persuasive proof that Calvin did not promote Stoicism. When he detected strains of determinism among the Libertines, he vigorously opposed it. For example, the fatalistic theology of Quintin of Hainaut, one of Anthony Pocquet‟s colleagues, is revealed progressively in the following anecdote: This notorious swine Quintin once found himself in a street where a man had just been killed. By chance a faithful believer was also there who said, “Alas! Who has committed this wicked deed?” Immediately he replied in a jesting way, “Since you want to know, it was I.” The other being completely surprised said, “How can you be so flippant?” To which he replied, “It isn‟t I, but God.” “Why,” asked the other, “must you attribute to God evils that He has commanded should be punished?” At which this swine disgorged even more forcefully his venom, saying, “Yes, it‟s you, it‟s I, it‟s God! For whatever you or I do is God‟s doing! And whatever God does, we do; for God is in us!”79

To such heretical folly Calvin replies, “In making this claim the Libertines attribute nothing to the will of man, no more than if he were a stone.” 80 Moreover, in his refutation of these Libertines he even goes so far as writing, “man‟s soul is […] endowed also with will, in order to choose and desire those things that his life [i.e. this earthly life] wants.” 81 In this regard, Calvin agrees with Melanchthon‟s teaching concerning the liberty of the

75

Calvin, Épître, 25–6. Calvin, Épître, 25. 77 CO 48:418; Calvin, Commentaries, 19:170. 78 CO 5:181–182; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:423. 79 CO 7:183–84; Calvin, Against Anabaptists & Libertines, 238–9. 80 CO 7:183; Calvin, Against Anabaptists & Libertines, 238. 81 CO 7:183; Calvin, Against Anabaptists & Libertines, 237. 76

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will in earthly things.82 Evidently, Miall Edwards‟ charge of Stoic fatalism misses the mark. He should have aimed it at Pocquet or Quintin, not Calvin. Therefore, if Calvin‟s view of divine grace and the human will focused on the sovereignty of the Father (not the fatalism of the Stoics) and if Melanchthon‟s view of divine grace and the human will consisted of a monergist (not synergist) understanding of salvation, might it be true that, for the most part, they did agree with each other? To be sure, each reformer approached the topic of divine grace and the human will in his own distinct way. After all, they were not identical twins. For instance, concerning the will‟s activity in deeds of domestic and civil life, Calvin was willing to acknowledge the libertas in externis; but he did add a caveat, saying, “It is not of great importance for faith.”83 For him, the main point of contention revolved around what the human will can – or cannot – do with respect to eternal matters, not earthly things. However, for Melanchthon the activity of the will in things below was of great significance. On the one hand, it allowed him to draw the line more sharply between external, face-saving righteousness and internal, Godgiven righteousness – a distinction with which Calvin wholeheartedly agreed.84 On the other hand, Melanchthon felt that the libertas in externis ought to be stressed for the sake of peace and decency in society. Calvin does not appear to be overly convinced by that line of argumentation. Nevertheless, in his preface to the French translation of Melanchthon‟s Loci, Calvin advises that Melanchthon‟s views on the liberty of the will in things below need not be a stumbling block, so long as the reader keeps the author‟s overall intention in mind.85

82 There are two occasions when Calvin expressly voices his agreement with Melanchthon on this point. The first is in his response to Albert Pighius in The Bondage and Liberation of the Will. He writes: “What they [natural powers] can do in public affairs and outward behaviour he [Melanchthon] did not want to discuss in too much detail, because it is not of great importance for faith […]. Even in those matters which I have declared to be not so necessary for faith there is no difference [between Melanchthon and myself] apart from the softening of the form of expression so as to remove anything displeasing” (CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 29). The second is in his preface to the French translation of Melanchthon‟s Loci Communes (CO 5:849). 83 CO 6:251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 29. 84 CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16. 85 CO 5:849. Melanchthon‟s greater interest in the activity of the will in things below coincides with, and confirms, the conclusion of R. Faber who writes: “One aspect in which Calvin‟s pursuit of the studia humanitatis differed considerably from that of Melanchthon is its scope” [emphasis mine]. And a little later, “Consequently Melanchthon was able to explore all the potential of humanity from the perspective of the Wittenberg Reformation.” See Faber, R., “Humanism of Melanchthon and Calvin,” 20, 21. Also see Zachman, John Calvin, 44–53. Zachmann concludes that any differences between Melanchthon and Calvin have more to do with their distinctive, pedagogical methods rather than the substance of what they taught.

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Moreover, concerning the eternally important matters, such as repentance and redemption, both Calvin and Melanchthon maintain that the corrupt human will is bound by its own evil desires. Therefore, it is unable to liberate itself, or even begin to liberate itself, sine Spirito sancto, as Melanchthon was fond of saying. In things above, the human will is utterly enslaved while divine grace is entirely sovereign. It is true that Melanchthon‟s statement about tres causae in the second edition of his Loci is open to misunderstanding. The same might be said about Calvin‟s comment concerning the will choosing what it wants in his Treatise against the Libertines. Yet it would be ungracious and unwise to judge either reformer on the basis of just one single sentence. All mortals utter less than perfect sentences which, after some time, they may refine or retract. For the most part, the evidence supports Calvin‟s own assessment of the situation when he testified to the Council of Geneva: “For the rest, esteemed gentlemen, whoever wants to put Melanchthon and me in combat [with each other], does great damage to either one or the other, and in general, to the whole church of God.”86

5.1.5 De imagine Dei in homine (1553) After more than thirty years of refinement and reorganization, the mature expression of Melanchthon‟s theology is captured in the final edition of his Loci Communes (1555). Furthermore, it is precisely in this publication that his subordination of the imago Dei within his teaching on the human will becomes most evident. Glancing over the contents of the final Loci, one would expect Melanchthon to discuss the imago Dei in the third chapter, which is entitled “Of the Article that God Created All Other Things.” However, Gen 1:26f receives no more than a fleeting reference in that chapter. Interestingly, it is not until the fifth chapter that he speaks more extensively about the image of God. The title of that chapter is “Of Human Strength and Free Will.” In sum, his definition of the imago Dei is that humans were originally created with an understanding that was endowed “with a great light” and a heart that was “full of the love of God, free of all evil desires” with a “free, unimpeded will.”87 Thus, in the Loci Melanchthon makes a strong connection between the imago Dei at creation and the will in its

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CO 14:382; translation mine. Calvin made this statement in 1552 during the controversy surrounding Jerome Bolsec and Jean Trolliet. In his own defence before the Genevan Council, Trolliet tried to claim Melancthon as a theological authority who supported his own position. Obviously, Calvin begged to differ with Trolliet. 87 CR 22:146; Melanchthon, Loci 1555, 51–2.

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pristine, unimpeded state. His motivation for doing so is clear: he wishes to ensure that human beings, and not God, are entirely responsible for sin.88 However, in his Liber de Anima the Protestant preceptor of Germany takes a different approach. Toward the end of this treatise on the soul, he provides a more well-rounded exposition of the image of God, namely, “De imagine Dei in homine.”89 Melanchthon‟s viewpoint is summarized below under the familiar headings of creation, fall, and restoration.

5.1.5.1 The Imago Dei at creation Melanchthon begins his explanation of the image of God at creation by contemplating whether the image of God is found in creation at large. For example, he writes, “there are certain significations concerning God in the sun.”90 That is to say, there is a certain triune quality about the sun: it has substance, light, and heat, yet all of this is within one unified entity. Similarly, the one God is triune, consisting of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Nevertheless, Melanchthon does not think that this sort of parallelism is sufficient to grant the sun status as an imago Dei. The solar sphere fails to meet a crucial epistemological qualification: “it does not know God, neither does it understand anything about the similarity [between God and it.]”91 Thus, for the Greek professor of Wittenberg, the imago Dei is not simply a matter of likeness, but also includes comprehension, as well as fellowship, or to use his term, koinōnikon.92 Between God and the first man there is a “congruency of wisdom and justice,” but beyond that “God wants himself to be acknowledged by human nature.”93 Imago is more than similitudo; it involves communio. Furthermore, at creation, the congruency between God and human beings extended to all the powers and faculties of the soul. Clear marks of God‟s intelligence shone forth in the human intellect. Nothing less than divine righteousness and justice enlightened the human heart, and the human will was free and unimpeded, just like God‟s own will.94 In agreement with Augustine, Melanchthon also saw a reflection of the Trinity itself in the human soul. God the Father corresponds to the intellect per se, God the 88

This same emphasis can be found in Chapters 18 & 19 of the Augsburg Confession. See The Book of Concord, 51. Notably, there is next to nothing concerning the image of God in the Augsburg Confession. 89 CR 13:169–172. 90 CR 13:169; all translations of De imagine Dei in homine are mine. 91 CR 13:169; emphasis mine. 92 CR 13:169. 93 CR 13:169. 94 CR 13:169.

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Son is like the thought formed within the intellect, and God the Holy Spirit can be compared to the will. In sum, Melanchthon offers the following definition on the imago Dei: “Therefore I identify the powers of the soul [to be] the image of God, but with God shining in them.”95 One thing that Melanchthon does not address in his Liber de Anima is the relation between the imago Dei and the dominium creationis. Yet he does draw attention to this matter in his commentary on the book of Genesis. Commenting on Gen 1:27f, he states that there can be no doubt that there is a close connection between image and dominion because both pertain to Christ who is, at one and the same time, the Perfect Image of God and the Ruler over all creation, seated at God‟s right hand. 96 Wittenberg‟s professor draws the hermeneutical line to Christ via Romans 8, a chapter which speaks about the children of God being recreated in the likeness of Christ (v 29), but which also announces the sovereignty of Christ over all creation in no uncertain terms (vv 38–39). Thus, although he connects image and dominion, Melanchthon does not equate them.

5.1.5.2 The Imago Dei after the Fall For Melanchthon the fall into sin had devastating effects on both the mind and the heart. “The mind is full of blindness and doubts concerning God. In his will and heart there are many flames of errant desires and disputes with God, unjust affections and unjust antipathies.”97 Indeed, “demons spring up in the chest of the impious, and they persuade many, so that they make horrendous dissipations in the human race, as well as infinite ravages.”98 All in all, the post lapsum depravity is rather total! Nevertheless, there are still a couple of lingering rays from the original, shining splendour of divine similitude. They are “the innate law in us” and “the conscience.”99 However, what kind of status or significance should be given to these remaining rays? Melanchthon does not set them forth as evidence of the eminence or excellence of the human race. On the contrary, these things should be acknowledged as proofs of “the love of God toward us and our calamity following sin.”100 For the sake of emphasis, Melanchthon even repeats this in various ways. Among fallen people one finds a distinction 95 CR 13:171; see also Melanchthon‟s Commentary on Genesis (CR 13:771) in which he defines the image of God in the following manner: Est ergo imago Dei, natura perfusa sapientia et iusticia, lumine et gloria Dei. 96 CR 13:771. 97 CR 13:170. 98 CR 13:170. 99 CR 13:170. 100 CR 13:170.

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between respectful and disgraceful men, as well as a desire for justice in society. To be sure, these things have value. They are good, even if they are only good in an earthly, temporal manner. Yet none of these things increases the splendour of the human race. Quite the opposite! They all serve to highlight God‟s goodness and love in spite of the horrendous iniquity of humankind. In sum, and in Melanchthon‟s own words: We observe so many evil things, and we deplore them with genuine groaning. Nevertheless, let us consider the declaration of God, who, after we fell into such great misery, yet by his immense goodness has brought help to us, by the Son interceding for us.101

5.1.5.3 The Imago Dei restored in Christ At creation the image of God consisted of two main aspects. In the first place, God created a similarity or “congruence”102 between the justice and prudence in Adam and Eve and his own divine righteousness and wisdom. Second, humans must acknowledge this congruence and live in communion with their Creator. Since the fall into sin did devastating damage to both aspects of the imago Dei, the work of restoration must also be twofold in nature. As Melanchthon explains, this is precisely what Christ does through his sacrifice and his Spirit: Therefore, this Son of the eternal Father, our Lord Jesus Christ, has been given to us, so that he might become the sacrifice for us and satisfy the wrath of the eternal Father, and so that he might be our eternal High Priest, gathering the Church by the voice of the gospel, in which he has revealed the decree concerning reconciliation. Indeed, he himself is our reconciliation. Since he is the Logos of the eternal Father, he has declared unto our minds and he has revealed to us the reconciled Father. He has also poured out the Holy Spirit in our hearts, so that in true love and happiness we might unite with the eternal Father and himself. Thus life and eternal justice are restored in us, and the image of God is renewed in us, by the Word shining in our mind, so that the recognition of God might be clearer and stronger. Also by the kindling work of the Holy Spirit, we become congruent with God in will and heart.103

Particularly toward the end of this citation, the twofold nature of Christ‟s restoration work is delineated, that is, renewed congruency with God and a recognition of that congruence. At the same time, Christ and the Holy Spirit do not accomplish the entire work of restoration in a single instant. The renewal of the imago Dei is more progressive than punctiliar. Alluding to 2 Cor 3:18, Melanchthon 101

CR 13:170–171. CR 13:169. 103 CR 13:171; emphasis mine. 102

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writes, “More and more we are transformed according to the Word, that is, the Light of the Son, with the Holy Spirit confirming agreement, or faith in our hearts, and kindling congruency with the Word.”104 Yet, even though the restoration of the image is progressive, it is not perpetual. There is a terminus in sight on the horizon. “And then, finally, it will be a perfect image, when in the heavenly assembly, God will be all in all.”105 After this closing crescendo of the perfect image of God in final, consummate glory, it would be reasonable to expect that Melanchthon would draw his exposition on the imago Dei to a swift conclusion. However, he adds a short, anti-scholastic encore. He lets his readers know that he has purposely omitted various quarrelsome discussions over whether the intellect or the will governs the soul. So far as he is concerned, both faculties rule over the human psyche with equal power. After all, they belong to one and the same substance, the soul. Therefore, they must cooperate with each other in order to accomplish anything. It is easy to dismiss Melanchthon‟s encore concerning the debate between intellectualists and voluntarists as an insignificant appendix to his main teaching on the image of God. However, there is more at stake here. Often the piece of music selected for the encore speaks volumes about the personality and convictions of the conductor himself. Such is the case in this instance. Concerning theology in general, and the doctrine of the human nature in particular, Melanchthon is keen to steer his audience clear of any regression into what he regarded as the trivial and futile disputes of the medieval, scholastic era. On the human nature, Melanchthon was a meticulously particular humanist.106 Brevity and simplicity were among his highest priorities.

5.1.6 Melanchthon and Calvin on the Image of God For the most part, there is widespread agreement between Melanchthon and Calvin on how the imago Dei ought to be understood and applied. At the same time, there are small, yet significant, differences between them. Concerning the imago Dei at creation, four points of comparison merit attention. First of all, both reformers locate the seat of the image in the soul. Later on in his life, Calvin also entertains the possibility that the body might

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CR 13:171. CR 13:171. 106 Here I simply mean that Melanchthon was meticulous in his humanist methodology. There is, of course, a more profound sense in which he was a particular humanist. See Faber, R., “Humanism of Melanchthon and Calvin”. 105

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be part of the image. Melanchthon, in spite of his avid interest in physiology,107 does not drift in that direction. Second, neither theologian makes a distinction between imago and similitudo. Calvin explicitly rejects this distinction, which was popular among the ancient Fathers and the medieval scholastici alike. For his part, Melanchthon does not wade into the imago versus similitudo debate; however, since he uses the terms interchangeably, he thereby implicitly denies any substantial difference between the two. In the third place, and significantly so, Melanchthon and Calvin agree that the imago Dei consists of more than a soul that possesses faculties and abilities surpassing those of the animals. Both treat the image of God as something which is not merely ontological, but also relational. The individuality of each teacher comes out in how the relationship between divine and human is defined. For Melanchthon there is an epistemological point of contact. Unlike other creatures, Adam and Eve could understand and acknowledge that they were similar to God in certain ways. While Calvin would not deny this cognitive capability, he describes the imago Dei from a more doxological rather than epistemological point of view. His emphasis is not so much acknowledgement as it is adoration. Moreover, Geneva‟s pastor regards the relationship between God and Adam as a Father-son relationship, whereas the professor of Wittenberg works mostly within a Revealer-receiver paradigm. Fourth, Melanchthon makes a much stronger connection between the imago Dei and the dominium creationis. For him the correlation is clear in Christ. Christ is the perfect Image of God. Those who are restored by the Saviour are recreated by the Spirit in the likeness of Christ. Furthermore, this Christ is now seated at the right hand of God ruling over all creation. This also means that those restored in his image must also share in his dominion. By contrast, Calvin is far more reticent about including the mandate to rule within the endowment of the image. After considering it for some decades, he did concede that the dominium might be a part of the image of God, but never more than a perpusillum. Concerning the effect of the fall into sin upon the human nature, and especially the image of God, there is little, if any, substantial difference between the two theologians. Calvin is renowned for his uncompromising stance on how sin has utterly devastated the original purity and dignity bestowed upon the human race. However, since Melanchthon describes the

107 Some passages in Melanchthon‟s writing are almost reminiscent of a medical textbook, with thoroughly inventories all the different parts of the human body. For example see CR 13:21– 29.

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fallen heart as a bonfire of iniquitous desires and infinite ravages, 108 he is certainly every bit as strident about the sinful condition as Calvin is. Both men also point out that although the likeness between God and humans was ruined by the fall, every ruin contains at least some remnants of the original. A sense of justice and a search for social order are common to virtually every civilization. Melanchthon and Calvin concur that these things are feeble sparks of what once used to be a shining similarity between Creator and the human creature. Moreover, the preceptor of Germany and the theologian of Geneva are also of the same mind in restricting the efficacy of these remnants to the realm of earthly, temporal things. So far as eternal salvation is concerned those lingering sparks are not even glowing any more. They are simply gone – extinguished and entirely ineffective. Melanchthon and Calvin also teach about the restoration of the imago Dei in remarkably similar ways. They share a twofold understanding of the re-creative work of Christ. Not only do the original attributes of justice, wisdom, and holiness need to be renewed, but the relationship between God and his human children needs to be restored as well. Christ, through his Spirit, is the one who accomplishes this redemptive refurbishment. Yet he does it gradually, with ever-increasing glory, on the pathway to final perfection. If there is a significant difference to be noted between Melanchthon and Calvin concerning the image of God, then it is not so much what they teach about this doctrine, but where they place it within the overall scheme of their theological instruction. For Calvin it is a central theme of his teaching on the human nature. The imago Dei appears in his Institutes, and as his magnum opus is revised in newer editions, he even devotes more attention to it. This same doctrine can be located in some of his earliest writings and it figures prominently in his preaching on Genesis and Job in the latter part of his life. However, in Melanchthon‟s writings the image of God receives less consideration. In his Loci Communes, it is subsumed within his teaching on the human will. Liberum arbitrium appears to be a higher theological priority for him than imago Dei. Similarly, the Augsburg Confession contains no substantial reference to the creation of human beings in the image of God. The reader must dig his way deep into the Liber de Anima before he finds an extended exposition of Melanchthon‟s view on the likeness of God in Adam and Eve. Perhaps Melanchthon felt compelled to deal more extensively with the human will in order to clarify and temper some of the more strident statements that Martin Luther, his older colleague in Witten-

108

CR 13:170.

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berg, had made about the bondage of the will.109 In addition, he was always concerned that people should not use the corruption of their will as an excuse for laxity or licentiousness. In the end, when the teachings of Calvin and Melanchthon are placed side-by-side, one thing is clear: the latter gave much more attention to the arbitrium humanum than the imago Dei.

5.2 Heinrich Bullinger 5.2.1 Personal Relationship On 19 June 1563 Edmund Grindal, the bishop of London and thereafter the archbishop of Canterbury, wrote to John Calvin expressing the following concern: I grieve from my heart that at your age [54!], and with so slender a frame, you have been attacked, as Gallasius informs me, with a fit of gout. I have no doubt but that you have contracted this disorder by excessive study and exertion. Henceforth therefore, you must relax somewhat of your former labours and unseasonable lucubrations, lest, by not sparing yourself, you greatly increase your disease, and become of less benefit to the church. Think of Nazianzen, who, because he did not, when advanced in years, relax at all from that austerity which he practised in early life, was almost constantly obliged to keep his bed, and on that account was rendered less useful to the church. As you and Bullinger are almost the only chief pillars remaining, we desire to enjoy you both (if it please God) as long as possible.110

Less than a year later, on 27 May 1564, Calvin‟s arduous earthly sojourn came to an end. After that, to borrow Grindal‟s metaphor, Heinrich Bullinger was the only chief pillar still standing. In fact, he stood for another eleven years, finally succumbing to death on 17 September 1575. Such can be the irony of mortality, Bullinger was five years older than Calvin, but he outlived him by more than a decade. Nonetheless, during the three decades that their reformatory labours overlapped, Bullinger and Calvin cultivated a mutually edifying and pro109 In his Assertion of All Articles (1520) Luther maintains that the free will was “free” in name only and nothing more (WA 7:142–49). Although Melanchthon sided with Luther and opposed Erasmus‟ teaching on the will, he also expressed the desire that Luther would refute Erasmus in a moderate fashion. Luther‟s response, De servo arbitrio (1525), was not so moderate. Therefore, Melanchthon endeavoured to provide that temperate approach which seemed to elude his colleague. See Wengert, Human Freedom, Christian Righteousness, 73: “Melanchthon wanted two things from Luther: a clear defense of the bound will in answer to Erasmus‟s challenge and a moderate answer. He received the first, but […] he himself had to supply the second.” 110 CO 20:44; English translation from Jean-Marc Berthoud, “Heinrich Bullinger (1504–1575): A Comprehensive Faith,” [Online Essay] [cited 2009]); available from www.elib.org.uk.

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ductive personal relationship. Given the distance that separated them and the obligations that weighed upon them, it is remarkable how much contact they had with each other. Bullinger wrote 169 letters to Calvin, and Calvin responded with 114 missives of his own.111 This volume of correspondence is almost ten times greater than that which was exchanged between Melanchton and Calvin.112 In addition to sharing information and concerns through letters, Calvin also travelled to Zurich five times in order to visit personally with his Swiss colleague.113 Again, this is significantly more face-to-face contact than Melanchthon and Calvin were able to arrange. Furthermore, it is perhaps telling that Calvin turned to Bullinger for assistance and advice in some of the more trying times of his life. In 1538, when Farel and he were being expelled from Geneva, Calvin wrote to Bullinger twice, keeping him abreast of the developments as best he could.114 Later, after Calvin had returned to Geneva, and as the persecution of the Reformed believers in France intensified, he repeatedly sent word to Bullinger describing the plight of the oppressed and requesting whatever support might be possible.115 Finally, it is surely indicative of the depth of their relationship that as Calvin became frail to the point of death, he dictated a letter to Bullinger on 6 April 1564.116 Even though lack of breath and voice prevented him from finishing the dictation, he still managed to bid farewell to his older, “venerable brother.”117 Clearly, throughout their lives and labours, these two men enjoyed exchanging personal, political, and ecclesiastical news. However, they also sought to employ their relationship for the cause of the church at large. Both were keenly aware that disagreements between them, as colleagues, could potentially cause friction, or even fractures, within the Reformed camp.118 At the same time, they endeavoured to be honest with each other. 111 Statistical information on the corpus of Bullinger‟s correspondence can be found in an online database at www.uzh.ch/irg/briefwechseldb. 112 Melanchthon and Calvin exchanged 29 letters in total. See Wengert, “We Will Feast Together,” 19–20. 113 Berthoud, “Heinrich Bullinger,” 6. 114 Calvin to Bullinger, 21 February 1538, CO 10:153–154; Calvin, Letters, 1:65–7. Also Calvin to Bullinger, 20 May 1538, CO 10:200–201; Calvin, Letters, 1:68–9. 115 In particular, once the Consensus Tigurinus was finalized, Calvin felt that if Zurich would publicly express its agreement with Geneva, it would greatly aid the cause of the persecuted brethren in France. At first Zurich was hesitant about such an alliance; therefore, Calvin strives to alleviate their concerns. Calvin to Bullinger, 7 May 1549, CO 13:266–269; Calvin, Letters, 2:225– 8. 116 Calvin to Bullinger, 6 April 1564, CO 20:282–284; Calvin, Letters, 4:362–3. 117 Calvin to Bullinger, 6 April 1564, CO 20:284; Calvin, Letters, 4:363. 118 Calvin to Bullinger, 12 March 1540, CO 11:27–30; Calvin, Letters, 1:112–5. Bullinger to Calvin and Beza, 29 May 1561, CO 18:478–480. Also cf. Garcia, “Bullinger‟s Friendship with Calvin,” 127.

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Honesty occasionally necessitates criticism, and that was also the case in this relationship. Calvin provided an extensive critique of Bullinger‟s writing on the Lord‟s Supper.119 By the same token, Bullinger openly exhorted Calvin to choose his words carefully in the controversy with Jerome Bolsec concerning providence and predestination.120 To this Calvin retorted that if Zurich‟s pastor desired clear proof that he abhorred the very notion that God is the author of sin, then Bullinger should consult his refutation of the Libertines.121 Yet, even if their exchanges could become brusque, they sought to assure each other of their abiding friendship.122 Moreover, it should not be overlooked that it was these two reformers who managed to draft an agreement on one of the most contested doctrines of the sixteenth century, namely, the Lord‟s Supper. Regardless of whatever weaknesses it contained and controversies it generated, the Consensus Tigurinus (1549) stands as a momentous testimony that the personal relationship between Calvin and Bullinger was of sufficient vigour to accomplish the very thing that eluded so many other theologians of their day: union concerning Holy Communion.123 In recent years there has been some attempt to portray Heinrich Bullinger as the father of another Reformed tradition, parallel to the tradition of which Calvin was the progenitor.124 However, all things considered, the evidence tends to support an older evaluation given by Bishop Edmund Grindal. Calvin and Bullinger were not rowing for ecclesiastical reform in parallel streams. Instead, they were like twin pillars supporting the portico of pure doctrine and worship. To be sure, this Jakin and Boaz125 of the sixteenth century were not identical to each other, but as Grindal suggests, the one was equally as important as the other.

119 Calvin to Bullinger, 25 February 1547, CO 12:480–489. Also, Calvin to Bullinger, 19 September 1547, CO 12:590–591; Calvin, Letters, 2:143. 120 CO 14:215; Cornelis P. Venema, “Heinrich Bullinger‟s Correspondence on Calvin‟s Doctrine of Predestination, 1551–1553,” Sixteenth Century Journal 17, no. 4 (1986): 441. 121 CO 14:253; Calvin, Letters, 2:334. 122 Bullinger to Calvin, 31 March 1553, CO 14:510–511; Garcia, “Bullinger‟s Friendship with Calvin,” 128. Calvin to Bullinger, April 1553, CO 14:513–514; Calvin, Letters, 2:402–4. 123 The correspondence and events proceeding and surrounding the Consensus Tigurinus are described in detail by Paul Rorem, Calvin and Bullinger on the Lord‟s Supper (Nottingham: Grove Books, 1989). 124 The thesis that Bullinger and Calvin represent two substantially divergent traditions has been advanced by J. Wayne Baker, Heinrich Bullinger and the Covenant: The Other Reformed Tradition (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1980). His position has also been criticized: Venema, “Heinrich Bullinger‟s Correspondence”; Peter A. Lillback, “The Continuing Conundrum: Calvin and the Conditionality of the Covenant,” Calvin Theological Journal 29 (1994). 125 1 Kgs 7:21.

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5.2.2 Bullinger on Human Nature and Imago Dei In order to gather all the pieces of Bullinger‟s anthropology, one has to search around in various sermons of his Decades and other documents in the corpus of his writings.126 Nevertheless, as Edward Dowey has noted, this does not mean that the reformer of Zurich was careless in composing his theological writings. On the contrary, it simply stems from his desire to address the “didactic, homiletical, and pastoral” issues of his day rather than to construct a grandiose dogmatological system.127 By the same token, Bullinger does make his own helpful contributions to the cause of Reformed anthropology in the sixteenth century, not only in his well-known Decades, but also in some of his treatises and confessional writings.

5.2.2.1 Quod animae non dormiant (1526) The reformation in Zurich, originally spearheaded by Ulrich Zwingli, was also significantly influenced by Conrad Grebel, who initially worked in conjunction with Zwingli but later charted his own course. Accordingly, a complete account of the Swiss Reformation ought to include the Swiss Brethren or Anabaptists, as they were also called.128 Bullinger, too, could not ignore the Anabaptist teachings which were circulating throughout Zurich and the surrounding cantons. In fact, as early as 1526, in Quod animae non dormiant, he began to grapple with the whole issue of soul sleep.129 In addition to re-baptizing, this was one of the doctrines commonly embraced by the radical reformers.130 At the same time, while Bullinger was busy refuting the psychopannychists of his day, the initial contours of his own anthropology began to come into focus. Notably, it is a decidedly biblical anthropology. That is 126 This was already noted by G. Oorthuys, Anastasius‟ “Wechwyser,” Bullingers “Huysboeck” en Calvijns “Institutie”: vergeleken in hun leer van God en Mensch (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1919), 112. 127 Edward Dowey, “Heinrich Bullinger As Theologian: Thematic, Comprehensive, and Schematic,” in Architect of Reformation: An Introduction to Heinrich Bullinger, 1504–1575, ed. Bruce Gordon and Emidio Campi (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2004), 62–3. 128 For a good example of including both the radical and magisterial reformation of Zurich in one volume, see Bruce Gordon, The Swiss Reformation (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2002). 129 Heinrich Bullinger, “Quod Animae Non Dormiant,” in Heinrich Bullinger Theologische Schriften: Band 2, ed. Hans-Georg vom Berg, Bernhard Schneider and Endre Zsindely (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1991). In 1531 Bullinger also wrote Four Books to Warn the Faithful from the Shameless Disturbance, Offensive Confusion, and False Teachings of the Anabaptists. Later on he supplemented this with an even more extensive work called On the Origins of Anabaptism (1560). Cf. Gordon, The Swiss Reformation, 211–2. 130 Williams, Radical Reformation, 104–6.

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to say, the language and concepts of ancient Greek philosophy are either suppressed or omitted altogether. Admittedly, Bullinger cites Seneca, and Plato receives a brief mention as well.131 However, these are little more than passing references. Without a doubt, the names that predominate in Quod animae non dormiant come from the Bible: Matthew, John, and particularly the Apostle Paul. Building on a substantial collection of scriptural citations, Bullinger contends that the human soul is fundamentally and essentially different from the souls or spirits of the animals. He notes that the anima hominis is vivified by the very spirit and breath of God himself.132 Furthermore, Bullinger finds this truth confirmed by the words of the Apostle Paul who exhorted the crowd gathered in the Areopagus saying, “In him [God] we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).133 Therefore, according to Bullinger it is inconceivable that the soul should suddenly cease all activity and awareness at the moment of death and slip into some kind of prolonged somnolence. That which originates from divine breath does not abide in indefinite drowsiness.134 Additionally, the very notion of the departed soul sleeping in heaven conjures up possible comparisons to an animal hibernating in the winter time. At this point, the ire of Zurich‟s Antistes is roused. With passion he declares that the Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, yearned not to go to sleep, nor to hibernate like an animal, but to live together with Christ!135 Following this line of thought even further, a sleeping soul is not only reminiscent of an animal hibernating, but it is also akin to death itself. In Bullinger‟s own words, sleep is mortis imago.136 Apart from the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest, the sleeping man looks like a dead man. He does not speak nor does he act. He is oblivious to everything that is happening around him. Indeed, sleep and cessation are virtually synonymous, and those who cease too long can be easily mistaken for those who decease altogether.137 Consequently, when the psychopannychists take what is common knowledge concerning the body and apply it to the soul, Bullinger responds with an appeal to the evangelist Matthew, who records the words of Christ: “God is not a God of the dead, but of the living” (Matt 22:32).138 In other words, the doctrine of soul sleep not only demotes the 131

Bullinger, Quod animae, 129. Bullinger, Quod animae, 128. He is alluding here to Gen 2:7. 133 Bullinger, Quod animae, 128. 134 Bullinger, Quod animae, 129. 135 Phil 1:13. Bullinger, Quod animae, 131. 136 Bullinger, Quod animae, 129. 137 Bullinger, Quod animae, 129. 138 Bullinger, Quod animae, 129. 132

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human soul into little more than an animal spirit, but it also detracts from God‟s own dignity by suggesting that he rules over dormant, quasimoribund souls. Having compared the sleeping soul to a portrait of death, Bullinger could have fortified his argument by pointing to Genesis 1:26 and reminding his readers that human beings were created according to the imago Dei rather than the imago mortis. However, he does not do so. Instead, and remarkably so, he implicitly links the similitudo Dei to the body rather than the soul. Bullinger‟s brief discussion of the image of God in Quod animae non dormiant comes toward the end of the document where he contemplates the final consummation, and especially the Apostle John‟s statement: “But we know that when he appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). As he expounds upon that future likeness between the Son of God and his followers, Bullinger turns to the Apostle Paul who writes, “the Lord Jesus Christ […] will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body” (Phil 3:21).139 Such an association between the similitudo Dei and the physical, albeit glorified, human body is all the more striking given the almost unanimous consensus of the ancient and medieval church that the imago Dei finds its seat in the soul, not the flesh. Evidently, this does not deter this particular Swiss reformer from forging into doctrinal territory where few before him dared to tread. On the whole, in his Quod animae non dormiant, Bullinger is eager to defend the dignity of human beings. Whether or not the Swiss Brethren intended to do so, their teaching of soul sleep blurred the essential line of distinction between the beasts of field and the children of Eve. Bullinger corrected this by highlighting the soul‟s divine origin and immortal essence, as well as the body‟s future destiny to be resurrected in the likeness of Christ‟s glorious body.

5.2.2.2 Der alte Glaube (1539) The leaders of the Reformation were keen to demonstrate that their doctrines were not novel, as the representatives of Rome charged, but only a revival of the Christian faith as it was once confessed within the early church. In Der alte Glaube, or The Old Faith, Bullinger summarizes the main tenets of his own teaching in an effort to demonstrate that they are in line with antiquity.140 Under the heading “The Creation of Man,” he begins by once again emphasizing the superiority of human beings vis-à-vis the 139 140

1581).

Bullinger, Quod animae, 133. Heinrich Bullinger, The Old Faith, trans. Miles Coverdale (London: Thomas Vautroullier,

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rest of creation. He writes, “He [God] also endued him above all other creatures, and created him after his own image.”141 Whether this image of God shines forth in Adam‟s body, or in his soul, or in both, is not manifestly clear. However, Bullinger at least appears to include both when he defines humans as consisting of both body and soul. Immediately thereafter he asserts that “the first man he [God] made altogether perfect and without blemish, so that indeed, he was called the image of God and not without cause.”142 He also affirms that the imago Dei is more than merely a reflection. It also includes a relationship, since unlike any other creature, God set “man [to be] his dear, beloved creature.”143 Sadly, even though God‟s love should have engendered a spirit of gratitude in Adam and Eve, they instead chose to offend God with “infidelity, unfaithfulness, disobedience, and unthankfulness.”144 Thus, for Bullinger, original sin ruined the imago Dei not only by shattering the mirror of likeness but also by breaking the bond of love.

5.2.2.3 Sermonum decades quinque (1549–1551) Bullinger‟s Decades, or Hausbuch, is by far his most well-known publication. He originally wrote these fifty sermons in Latin and presented them to his fellow pastors and teachers at the Prophezei meetings in Zurich.145 However, before long his magnum opus was translated into local vernaculars, such as German, French, English, and Dutch. In this way it could be read by clergy and common folk alike. Most of Bullinger‟s teaching on the image of God derives from his Decades, although it must be collected and collated from various sermons, since there is no particular sermon on the creation of human beings. Bullinger mentions the imago Dei, albeit briefly, in his very first sermon on the “Word of God.” He contends that the holy fathers of the Old Testament, men like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, taught their children the chief principles of true religion. One of the ancient, holy axioms was this: God, in the beginning, did create man to his own similitude and likeness, to the intent that he should be good, holy, immortal, blessed, and partaker of all the good gifts of God; but that man continued not in that dignity and happy state; but by the means of

141

Bullinger, Old Faith, 7. Bullinger, Old Faith, 8; emphasis mine. 143 Bullinger, Old Faith, 8. 144 Bullinger, Old Faith, 10. 145 Berthoud, “Heinrich Bullinger,” 6. More information on the history and character of the Prophezei can be found in Gordon, The Swiss Reformation, 232–9. 142

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the devil, and his own proper fault, fell into sin, misery, and death, changing his likeness to God into the similitude of the devil.146

Shortly thereafter, Bullinger adds that the Lord “put all things under mankind, to minister unto him things necessary, as a loving Father and most bountiful Lord.”147 Hence the Antistes of Zurich promotes a robust understanding of the likeness between the Creator and his human creatures. It is not merely a correspondence of ratio et voluntas, as some of the ancient and medieval theologians maintained, but it includes participation in all the good gifts of God. Furthermore, as he discusses God‟s creative work for humankind, Bullinger emphasizes God‟s paternal concern and care, although he does not explicitly link this to the imago Dei.148 Finally, it should be noted that sin ruins the similitudo Dei by replacing the exemplar. In paradise Adam and Eve radiated the likeness of God, but post lapsum they became walking portraits of Satan‟s evil attributes. In short, at the fall Adam and Eve did not trip; they committed treason. The imago Dei next occurs under the heading of the sixth commandment, where Bullinger states that “murder destroys the very image of God.”149 Clearly, the presumption underlying this statement is that, in spite of the fall into sin, the image of God still exists in people today; otherwise there would be nothing for the destroyer to destroy. Later on, Bullinger uses a similar argument to endorse bowing down before the elderly and the authorities. He explains that, the second commandment notwithstanding, it is permissible to bow down before certain people, “for God, communicating this honour, does allow the same unto men, either for their old age, their authority, or worthiness‟ sake: for man is the lively image of God.”150 Here again, the image of God is portrayed as something that is real in the present, rather than something that is merely remembered from the past. Nevertheless, even though Bullinger twice affirms the ongoing existence of the imago Dei, in his thirtieth sermon, “Of Sin,” there appears to be a marked about-face. The pertinent passage reads as follows:

146 Heinrich Bullinger, The Decades, ed. Thomas Harding (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1849–1852; reprint, Grand Rapids: Reformation Heritage Books, 2004), 1:42. Where needed, I have updated the English translation of the Decades by using modern verb forms in the place of more archaic constructions (e.g., “does” for “doth”). 147 Bullinger, Decades, 1:43; also see Bullinger, Decades, 2:378–9. 148 Cf. Peter Walser, “Bullingers Lehre von Menschen,” Zwingliana 10 (1957): 409, who writes, “Das Ziel des wahren Verstädnisses vom Menschen ist für Heinrich Bullinger die Gemeinschaft des himmlischen Vaters mit seinen Kindern aur Erden.” 149 Bullinger, Decades, 1:305; translation mine. Also see Bullinger, Decades, 2:215. 150 Bullinger, Decades, 3:196.

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And that I may at last conclude, and briefly express the whole force and signification of our hereditary depravation and corruption; I say that this depravation of our nature is nothing else but the blotting of God‟s image in us. There was in our father Adam before his fall the very image and likeness of God; which image, as the apostle expounds it, was a conformity and participation of God‟s wisdom, justice, holiness, truth, integrity, innocency, immortality, and eternal felicity. Therefore what else can the blotting or wiping out of this image be but original sin; that is, the hatred of God, the ignorance of God, foolishness, distrustfulness, desperation, self-love, unrighteousness, uncleanness, lying, hypocrisy, vanity, corruption, violent injury, wickedness, mortality, and eternal infelicity?151

Such language about the effect of the fall is just as comprehensive in its condemnation as anything that ever flowed forth from Calvin‟s quill. One cannot help but think of the charge that Pighius levelled against Calvin; namely, that he did not leave room for anything of real value in the human spirit.152 If Geneva‟s reformer was truly guilty of this charge, then Zurich‟s reformer was equally culpable. At the same time, a careful reading of the context of this particular passage indicates that Bullinger makes an important qualification. He sums the matter up when he writes, “All our understanding is dull, blunt, gross, and altogether blind in heavenly things. Our judgment in divine matters is perverse and frivolous.”153 Of course, all this only raises the question: what are these heavenly things? In this sermon on sin Zurich‟s preacher does not answer that question. The reader must persevere through another “decade” of sermons until he elaborates on the matter in his homily on repentance: Now the understanding is of two sorts; for we understand either earthly or heavenly things. I call those earthly things, which do appertain not to the life to come, but to the life present: whereunto we refer all liberal arts and handicrafts, the governing of public weals, and the ruling of private houses. By heavenly things I understand God himself, eternal felicity, and life everlasting, the knowledge of God and all kinds of virtues, faith, hope, charity, righteousness, holiness, and innocency of life. 154

Bullinger applies his earthly-heavenly distinction to the understanding155 and the will,156 the two faculties of the human soul in which the imago Dei resides.157 It is now time to pull all the pieces of this anthropological puzzle together. When Bullinger maintains that the imago Dei has been blotted out, 151

Bullinger, Decades, 2:394. Melles, Albertus Pighius, 24. 153 Bullinger, Decades, 2:393; emphasis mine. 154 Bullinger, Decades, 3:98–9. 155 Bullinger, Decades, 3:99–100. 156 Bullinger, Decades, 3:103. 157 Bullinger, Decades, 2:377. 152

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he means that it has been erased with regard to heavenly things. That is to say, since they were created in God‟s image, Adam and Eve had everything they needed to enjoy a holy life, unto their Creator‟s glory, with respect to both heavenly and earthly things. After the fall into sin that all changed. With respect to heavenly things, such as righteousness, holiness, and eternal happiness, the imago Dei was entirely ruined. However, with respect to earthly things, such as governing the well-being of society and prospering their own individual households, some human abilities remain even after the fall, although they are “weak and very small.”158 Nevertheless, enough of that original likeness of God endures that it is “not altogether none at all.”159 Turning back to the thirtieth sermon “On Sin,” there are several more aspects of Bullinger‟s view on the image of God which should not be overlooked. In the first place, he distinguishes between image160 and likeness.161 He explains the difference as follows: Note here, that Zœlœm [image] signifies the picture or counterfeit of another thing, and that Demuth imports the very pattern whereby any picture is drawn or image portrayed. Therefore in God is the example or pattern, to the resemblance whereof there was a picture or similitude framed.162

Consequently, in Bullinger‟s estimation, the likeness (similitudo) is greater than the image (imago), since the latter describes the general representation whereas the former pertains to the precise details of that resemblance. In making this distinction, Zurich‟s preacher was in good company with some early church fathers and many medieval theologians who did the same. However, unlike Bullinger, his predecessors valued the image more highly because, from their point of view, the image continued to subsist in humankind after the fall, whereas the similitude was lost and in need of restoration. Second, in his Quod animae non dormiant and Der alte Glaube, Bullinger appears to be open to the notion that, at least to some degree, the body may be part of the image of God. In his Decades, however, that doctrinal door is shut rather firmly. As he avers:

158

Bullinger, Decades, 3:99. Bullinger, Decades, 3:99. 160 Heb. ‫ֶצלֶם‬ 161 Heb. ‫דְּ מּות‬ 162 Bullinger, Decades, 2:377. 159

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[…] that representing likeness cannot be this body of ours; for God is a Spirit, in no point like to the nature of dust and ashes: we must of necessity therefore resemble the image of God to spiritual things, as to immorality, truth, justice, and holiness.163

Later on, though, in his Compendium Christianae religionis (1556), it seems as if Bullinger once more opens the door, if only slightly, to the body‟s inclusion within the image. In a paragraph delineating the dignity by which human beings excel all other creatures, he highlights God‟s fiat of creating them in his own image.164 Immediately thereafter he adds that the soul and the body contain “so many and so excellent and wonderful things, that they could never be enough praised and commended of most eloquent and learned men.”165 Regardless of this ambiguity on the connection between the body and the image, one thing is clear: Bullinger did not harbour Platonic notions of the inferiority of the flesh. For him the human body was a wonder to adore, not a weakness to overcome. In the third place, the author of the Decades indulges in a rare moment of theological speculation when he offers his own conjecture concerning God‟s inner motivation for creating humans in his likeness: “God, of his eternal goodness and liberality, whereby he wishes himself to be parted among us all to our felicity, did from everlasting determine to create man to his own similitude and likeness.”166 The Latin phrase which Bullinger employs, distrahi quasi, indicates the caution with which he wants to proceed. He realizes full well that it is impossible to sub-divide and distribute the divine essence among a global crowd of human beings, even if they are the pinnacle of his creative work. It is with this impossibility in mind that he inserts the cautionary quasi, “as it were.” Nevertheless, his underlying thesis remains: God did not want to keep himself entirely unto himself. He wanted to share himself (his attributes and his excellencies) with others. However, these “others” then need to have the capacity to appreciate and to partake of his generous self-giving. For this very reason God created Adam and Eve in his own likeness. Similitudo encourages and enhances participatio. Finally, it is not without reason that Bullinger includes most of his teaching on the imago Dei within a sermon on sin. One of his chief aims is to defend the holiness of God. As he says, “I have now to prove unto you, that God is not the cause of sin, or the author of evil.”167 Part of his defence is establishing the fact that God did not create Adam and Eve with some 163

Bullinger, Decades, 2:377. Heinrich Bullinger, Common Places of the Christian Religion, trans. John Coxe (London: Henrie Bynneman, 1572), 40. 165 Bullinger, Common Places, 41. 166 Bullinger, Decades, 2:379; emphasis mine. 167 Bullinger, Decades, 2:365. 164

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kind of hidden fault which eventually developed into a hideous transgression. Precisely at this point Bullinger reaches for the doctrine of the imago Dei,168 since, among other things, the image means that Adam was created with the faculty of choice. “His will was free, without constraint, and absolutely holy.”169 Therefore, the cause of sin is not an imperfect creation by God, nor some kind of imposed coercion from God, but rather a tragically impious choice by Eve and Adam. The advantage of Bullinger‟s argument is that his defence of divine purity is based on Scripture, namely Genesis 1, instead of speculative sophistry. However, the disadvantage of his approach is that the imago Dei is viewed, as it were, in the rear-view mirror – Genesis 1 is interpreted from the vantage point of Genesis 3. Furthermore, with this arrangement, the doctrine of the imago Dei tends to fall under the ominous shadow of sin rather than standing on its own two feet in the original glory of the garden.170

5.2.2.4 Second Helvetic Confession (1562) The Second Helvetic Confession, a document which originated from Bullinger‟s own hand,171 contains two short and straightforward references to the image of God. First, in Chapter 7 concerning “The Creation of All Things,” it is simply stated that “in the beginning he [man] was made good according to the image and likeness of God.”172 Following that, in the next chapter concerning “Man‟s Fall, Sin, and the Cause of Sin,” more detailed explanation is given; the image testifies that human beings were created “in righteousness and true holiness, good and upright.”173 Thereafter, in Article 9, he states that before the fall man was “upright and free, so that he could both continue in goodness and decline to evil.”174 Although the image of God is not mentioned explicitly in Article 9, it is evident that the freedom of the human will in paradise is of prime importance in Bullinger‟s anthropol-

168

Bullinger, Decades, 2:368–9, 377–9. Bullinger, Decades, 2:369. 170 In this regard it is noteworthy that when Edward Dowey gives his outline of the main motifs in Bullinger‟s thought there is no heading or sub-heading devoted to human nature in the created state of integrity. The locus “Human Nature and Sin” is found under II.7, but none of the subheadings refers the state of creation, and the topic of sin dominates section II.7. See Dowey, “Bullinger as Theologian,” 63–4. 171 Arthur C. Cochrane and Jack Rogers, Reformed Confessions of the Sixteenth Century (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003), 220–1. 172 Philip Schaff, The Creeds of Christendom (New York: Bible House, 1876; reprint, Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1931), 3:246; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 234. 173 Schaff, Creeds, 3:247; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 235. 174 Schaff, Creeds, 3:249; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 237. 169

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ogy.175 Like he did in the Decades, Bullinger uses this freedom to lay the foundation for his condemnation of “all who make God the author of sin.”176 Interestingly, the Second Helvetic Confession does not contain any statement that the imago Dei has been blotted out or erased. Instead, the main consequences of original sin are summed up in the phrase “death and various calamities.”177 The precise extent of sin‟s effect on human faculties is reserved for the ninth article, which touches on the free will. In this article Bullinger‟s distinction between heavenly and earthly things reappears. The Confession affirms that “man‟s reason does not judge rightly of itself concerning divine things,”178 yet “in regard to earthly things, fallen man is not entirely lacking understanding.”179 Likewise, concerning the human will, the Confession agrees that “in outward things no man denies but that both the regenerate and the unregenerate have their free will.”180 Moreover, since Bullinger uses the term “outward things” as a synonym for “earthly things,” on this point at least there is significant harmony between the reformers of Zurich, Wittenberg, and Geneva. In externis is the very phrase which both Melanchthon and Calvin used to delineate the borderline between ruin and remnant in the intellect and the will post lapsum.

5.2.3 Comparison of Bullinger and Calvin If the magna opera of these two reformers are laid side-by-side, one difference concerning their treatment of the image of God quickly comes to the fore. In his Decades Bullinger refers to this dogma ad hoc and ad necessitatem as he is busy expounding other doctrines, whereas Calvin deals with it in a more integral and autonomous fashion. For example, the pastor of Zurich appeals to the imago Dei in order to bolster his explanation of the sixth commandment or to provide proof that God is not the author of evil. 175 Ernst Koch, Die Theologie der Confessio Helvetica Posterior (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1968), 70, goes so far as to say that the freedom to choose good or evil was the main content of the prelapsarian imago Dei. Similarly, Paul Jacobs, “Die Lehre von der Erwählung in ihrem Zumsammenhang mit der Providenzlehre und der Anthropologie im Zweiten Helvetischen Bekenntnis,” in Glauben und Bekennen: Vierhundert Jahre Confessio Helvetica Posterior, ed. Joachim Staedtke (Zürich: Zwingli Verlag, 1966), 266, states that in the Second Helvetic Confession, the doctrine of the imago Dei gains its breadth and depth precisely in the question of the will and its freedom. 176 Schaff, Creeds, 3:248; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 236. See also Jacobs, “Providenzlehre und der Anthropologie,” 266, who also emphasizes that the Confession‟s emphasis on the human will is particularly aimed at warding off the accusation that God is the author of sin. 177 Schaff, Creeds, 3:247; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 235. 178 Schaff, Creeds, 3:250; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 238; emphasis mine. 179 Schaff, Creeds, 3:250; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 238; emphasis mine. 180 Schaff, Creeds, 3:251; Cochrane, Reformed Confessions, 239; emphasis mine.

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However, in both cases he describes the image of God from the vantage point of human beings in the depths of their depravity rather than from the heights of their original integrity. By comparison, in the first edition of his Institutes, Calvin takes a different approach. He begins with a summary of what ought to be known concerning God, and thereafter, what ought to be known concerning man. The vital link between these two epistemological pillars, which support “nearly the whole of sacred doctrine,”181 is the imago Dei. In this way Calvin first deals with the image as it appears in the status integritatis before he considers its condition post lapsum. He also follows this approach in the expanded, final edition of his Institutes. He discusses the imago Dei in its created integrity in Book One, “The Knowledge of God the Creator,” particularly in the fifteenth chapter of that book. It is true that Calvin already mentions the ruin of the imago in 1.15.4 of his 1559 Institutes. However, he reserves his main treatment of the effects of the fall on the human soul for Book Two, “The Knowledge of God the Redeemer,” especially the first five chapters thereof. Nevertheless, and notably so, both reformers etch the initial sketch of their teaching about human nature as part of their polemics against proponents of soul sleep. In other words, the radical reformers, more so than the representatives of Rome, form the primary foil against which Bullinger and Calvin alike begin to articulate their understanding of the imago Dei. Calvin did so in his Psychopannychia, first drafted in 1534, while Bullinger accomplished this almost a decade earlier in his 1526 publication entitled Quod animae non dormiant. The dominant question vis-à-vis Rome was a soteriological one; namely, is redemption the result of combining God‟s mercy with human merit, or is salvation sola gratia? However, the debate with the radicals centred on a much more anthropological concern; namely, what is the precise distinction between human beings and animals? Bullinger and Calvin share the conviction that if psychopannychism is followed through to its logical end, then humans will be degraded to little more than intelligent animals. Therefore, both men rise to the defence of human dignity and assert that all human beings, by their very nature, are created to be of a different and higher calibre than the beasts of the field or the birds of the air. In their refutation of the radicals, the only significant difference between Calvin and Bullinger is that Geneva‟s reformer makes explicit use of the imago Dei in order to counter the doctrine of soul sleep, whereas Zurich‟s preacher lays more emphasis on the flatus Dei, the breath of God by which Adam became a living being. Bullinger and Calvin both strive to develop their teaching about human nature from various passages of the Bible. To be sure, on occasion they 181

CO 1:27; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 15.

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refer to the well-known leaders of the various philosophical schools, such as Plato, Aristotle, and Seneca. Especially concerning the nature of the soul and its immorality, these reformers will also discuss at greater length the views propounded by the sages of ancient Greece.182 Yet, primarily and principally, they are constructing biblical anthropologies, not philosophical ones. For example, it is striking that Bullinger speaks in remarkably positive terms about the human body. According to him, the body, no less than the soul, contains “so many and so excellent and wonderful things, that they could never be enough praised and commended of most eloquent and learned men.”183 Furthermore, toward the end of his own theological development, Calvin even allowed for some “scintillations” of the image of God within the physical body.184 Bullinger never came that far, although at times he appears to be open to the concept. 185 Still, both reformers certainly concur in speaking about the human body in a decidedly more optimistic manner than, for instance, Plato – for whom the body was little more than “a hindrance” and something which the soul of every sage “greatly despises.”186 The reformers‟ affirmation of the physical body points to the scriptural, rather than philosophical, underpinnings of their understanding of humanity. Concerning the definition of the imago Dei itself, there is much that Bullinger and Calvin hold in common. They both locate the seat of the image in the human soul. They share the viewpoint that when God created human beings in his image, he imprinted his own attributes, such as righteousness, holiness, and wisdom, upon the two chief faculties of the soul, namely, the intellect and the will. At the same time, they do not limit the image of God to the created nature of human beings. Both of them also speak of a reciprocal bond which is connected to the image. God, for his part, continues to provide Adam and Eve with all that they need bodily and spiritually. The parents of the human race, for their part, ought to express their unceasing gratitude for this comprehensive care. In short, Calvin and Bullinger wholeheartedly agree that the divine similitude includes fellowship just as much as it involves faculties. Nevertheless, these two reformers part ways over the question of whether or not image and likeness are synonymous. Calvin maintains that the one is, for all intents and purposes, the same as the other.187 However, 182

See Bullinger, Decades, 3:385–6, and also CO 2:140–142; OS 3:182–185; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.6–7. 183 Bullinger, Common Places, 41. 184 CO 23:26; Calvin, Commentaries, 1:95. 185 Bullinger, Quod animae, 133; Bullinger, Old Faith, 8. 186 Plato, Phaedo, 65a, 65d. 187 CO 2:136–137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3.

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Bullinger sees an important distinction between the two. For him, likeness is superior to image, just as a detailed drawing is more desirable than an initial sketch. Yet this does not mean that Bullinger intends to leave the door open to some Thomist notion that the image survives the fall into sin more or less unscathed and that only the similitude needs to be restored. Far from it! The Antistes of Zurich, no less than the architect of Geneva‟s reforms, describes the devastating effects of sin upon God‟s image and likeness in the most uncompromising terms. In fact, initially both men spoke of the fall utterly blotting out the image of God, only to qualify themselves later by allowing some small remnants of the image to persist after sin enters the world and, more significantly, invades the human heart. Yet these lingering lineaments of the original image of God are only sufficient to assist human beings in pursuing earthly things in an honourable and decent manner. They avail the human race nothing so far as heavenly or eternal things are concerned. To be more specific, they may teach a man to do obeisance before an earthly king, since that ruler is “the lively image of God,” as Bullinger says.188 Yet, in the fallen state, this remnant counts for nothing when that same man stands before the King of kings to account for his transgressions committed while in the flesh. Bullinger makes more extensive use of this delineation between earthly and heavenly things than Calvin does; however, both of them are surpassed by Melanchthon who makes the most comprehensive use of this distinction. All in all, there is more consensus than divergence between Bullinger and Calvin concerning the human nature, both before and after the advent of iniquity. Nonetheless, each theologian elucidated the imago Dei according to his own original insights.189 Bullinger‟s unique contribution is his proposal that God‟s motivation for creating Adam and Eve in his likeness was to distribute himself, as it were, among his human creatures. His proposition is admittedly speculative, yet the charitable reader will be able to appreciate his intention. He means to say that God created an image of himself in order to apportion his divine felicity rather than amassing it all unto himself. Moving from Zurich to Geneva, Calvin‟s distinctive input is his close association and, in due time, identification of the image with the Father-children relationship that God established with Adam and Eve right from the beginning. Although Peter Walser correctly asserts that fellowship between the heavenly Father and his earthly heirs is a key part of Bullin188

Bullinger, Decades, 3:196. Cf. Joel E. Kok, “Heinrich Bullinger‟s Exegetical Method,” in Biblical Interpretation in the Era of the Reformation, ed. Richard A. Muller and John L. Thompson (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 242–6. This author notes that Bullinger and Calvin were able to “combine theological differences within confessional unity.” For example, Bullinger gives more attention to natural, or general, revelation. Bullinger also values Erasmus‟ insights more than Calvin does. 189

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ger‟s thought,190 Calvin advances a step further than that. For Geneva‟s theologian the Father-children relationship does not merely fit within the context of the imago Dei, it is actually the content of the imago Dei.

5.3 Conclusions At the beginning of this chapter three key questions were posed. First, did Melanchthon, Bullinger, and Calvin have the same understanding of human nature in general and the imago Dei in particular? Second, if there are differences to be noted among the reformers, are they substantial or peripheral? Third, if a substantial unity of teaching exists, is it genuine or is the consensus a façade designed to save face under the scrutiny of papal theologians? The answers to these questions are summarized below. 1. Melanchthon, Bullinger, and Calvin agree that when God created human beings in his image, he imprinted a likeness of his own divine attributes, such as justice, wisdom, and holiness, upon their intellect and will. In addition, they all concur that the imago Dei involves more than an attributive similarity; it includes a bond of fellowship. For Melanchthon this bond has epistemological overtones because humans are unique in their ability to comprehend and appreciate the congruency between the Creator and themselves. Calvin and Bullinger stress a stronger doxological note, emphasizing that the beneficiaries of this bond ought to exalt the Benevolent Benefactor with gratitude. 2. Calvin alone identifies the imago Dei with the Father-children relationship that God established with human beings. The other two reformers certainly speak of God the Father in connection with creation, but they do not explicitly link God‟s fatherhood with the image of God. At the same time, Bullinger is the only one who ventures to explain the reason behind God‟s creation of human beings in his image, namely, his desire to distribute himself among others. 3. All three reformers point to the soul as the seat of God‟s image. In spite of his avid interest in the physiology of body, Melanchthon denies that the flesh has any connection to the image. Bullinger, too, states that God‟s likeness can only be found in the soul, although he readily exclaims the marvels of the human body. Interestingly, even though Calvin initially takes the same approach as his colleagues, toward the end of his life he was open to the idea that some scintillations of God‟s image also shone in the body. At least from this per190

Walser, “Lehre von Menschen,” 409.

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spective, and remarkably so, Calvin is the most affirmative Reformed theologian concerning the created dignity of the human body. From the writings of both Bullinger and Calvin it becomes evident that some of their key anthropological convictions were shaped in the forge of their impassioned polemics with radical reformers. The distinctiveness of the human soul, as opposed to animal spirits, and the ongoing existence of the human will, in spite of its fallen condition, are two prominent doctrines which they clarified as they opposed the psychopannychists and the Libertines of their day. For the most part, Melanchthon and Bullinger subsume their treatment of the imago Dei within their discussion of the human condition post lapsum. In fact, one of the obvious driving forces behind their teaching on the human nature is their fervent desire to substantiate, by all means possible, that God is not the author of sin. They use the doctrine of God‟s image as part of their defence of God‟s perfect holiness. By comparison, Calvin is more circumspect about first treating this doctrine on its own in the status originalis. Furthermore, on the whole, the imago Dei forms a more integral and central part in Calvin‟s theology than it does in the teaching of Bullinger or Melanchthon. Calvin, Melanchthon, and Bullinger all use strident, unequivocal language concerning the effect of sin upon the image of God. If Calvin is charged with having a bleak view of fallen humanity, then that same charge applies equally to his colleagues in Zurich and Wittenberg. Moreover, each of these theologians speaks of a remnant of the imago Dei which is still evident and active after the fall. On top of this, they concur that this remnant can only accomplish something of worth in the realm of temporal, earthly matters. Conversely, it avails human beings absolutely nothing so far as eternal and heavenly things are concerned. These men differ, though, as to how much weight each one gives to the potential of the libertas in externis. Of the three, Melanchthon attaches the most value to the libertas in externis, with Bullinger following closely behind him. Although Calvin affirms it, he sees little use in discussing it at any length. Thus, the difference between Melanchthon and Calvin is not that one is open to synergism while the other advocates fatalism. Instead, the distinction between the two is that Melanchthon places more emphasis on the libertas in externis than Calvin does. The three reformers wrote numerous letters to each and, on occasion, visited each other, although the contact between Bullinger and Calvin was far more extensive than that of Calvin and Melanchthon. In

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their epistolary and personal interaction with each other, they were not afraid to correct or criticize one another. The controversy with Jerome Bolsec in Geneva during the 1550s was a particularly challenging time. Both Melanchthon and Bullinger feared that Calvin might leave the impression that God is a fatalistic Force and that the human will is a coerced victim. The fact that two colleagues confronted Calvin on this point indicates that his passionate orations and publications on the sovereignty of God had the potential to generate misunderstandings. Nevertheless, to some degree, Calvin vindicated himself. Particularly in his refutation of the Libertines he demonstrated his unequivocal rejection of those who imply that God is the author of sin. The forthright, and occasionally terse, epistolary exchanges among these men do not mean that they were, or even intended to be, hostile toward each other. Rather, it is indicative of their earnest desire to hone each other‟s teaching, as iron sharpens iron. 8. On the whole, Melanchthon, Bullinger, and Calvin developed a broad consensus in their teaching about the imago Dei and, more generally, about the nature of humanity both before and after the fall into sin. Most of the differences in their writing on this locus have more to do with distinctiveness than divergences. These colleagues did not arrive at the point of final perfection with their understanding of the imago Dei, but they did manage to develop a fundamental coherence in their anthropology. This coherence was not a face-saving façade. Rather, it was a consensus refined by fire. Among these three spiritual siblings, diversity was acknowledged while unity was preserved. After all, that is, typically speaking, the constant challenge of family life.

6. Calvin‟s Opponents on the Imago Dei

At the dawn of his theological development, Calvin sketched the initial outlines of his anthropology while he was busy counteracting the resurgent notion of soul-sleep in his beloved homeland of France. The year was 1534 and the publication was the Psychopannychia. Evidently, the psychopannychists of France were not the last of the radical reformers with which Calvin had to contend. In 1559, as John Calvin was putting the final touches on the fifteenth chapter of the first book of his Institutes, he confronted two theologians who, in his estimation, had gravely misconstrued the doctrine of the imago Dei. The first was Andreas Osiander (ca. 1498–1552). Although this German preacher began as an orthodox disciple of Luther, he slowly became more radical, delving into the Jewish Cabala and delivering apocalyptic prophecies. The second was Michael Servetus (ca. 1511–1553). This Spaniard‟s doctrine was radically unorthodox in a number of different respects. Exactly what these men taught concerning the image of God and how Calvin countered them will be explored in detail below. At this point, it should not escape our attention that from dawn to dusk, that is, from the commencement to the culmination of his days as a theologian, Calvin refined his understanding of the imago Dei in the smelter of his disputes with radical thinkers, the so-called left wing of the Reformation.

6.1 Andreas Osiander In the final edition of his Institutes, John Calvin refutes the teachings of Andreas Osiander in no less than three separate passages.1 This is all the more striking since in the previous four editions of the Institutes the name of this professor from Königsberg is not even mentioned once. The cause of Calvin‟s concerted attention toward Osiander‟s views in his 1559 Institutes is the latter‟s publication of An filius Dei fuerti incarnandus, si peccatum non introivisset in mundum and De Justificatione, both in 1550.2 As part of the first treatise he provides an extended excursus on the image of God entitled, De imagine Dei, quid sit. Indeed, the imago Dei is sufficiently 1

Calvin criticizes Osiander regarding his views of the image of God, the incarnation of Christ, and the justification of sinners. See Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3–5, 2.12.5–7, 3.11.5–12. 2 A critical edition of both treatises can be found in Andreas Osiander, Gesamtausgabe. Band 9. Schriften Und Briefe 1549 Bis August 1551, ed. Gerhard Müller and Gottfried Seebass (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1994).

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significant in Osiander‟s theology (including his controversial teachings about justification) that one scholar has even gone so far as to describe it as the “central idea of his entire system.”3 Similarly, it has been asserted that the imago Dei is “absolutely pivotal”4 to Calvin‟s anthropology, and in turn, that his theological anthropology is “a fundamental and pervasive element of his entire theology.”5 Consequently, one might expect that scholars of the Reformation would have delved deeply into the Osiander-Calvin controversy concerning this particular doctrine. Yet such is not the case. Significant studies have been done on Osiander‟s view of justification, as well as Calvin‟s criticism of it.6 Surprisingly, however, when Calvin‟s view of the imago Dei is explored, his refutation of Osiander‟s point of view on this particular doctrine has rarely registered on the radar screen of Reformation research, particularly in the English-speaking world.7 In the first half of this 3 F. Bente, Historical Introductions to the Book of Concord (St. Louis: Concordia, 1965), 158; See also Martin Stupperich, Osiander in Preussen 1549–1552 (Berlin: Walter De Gruyter, 1973), 107, where he writes, “Die Begründung der These Osianders ist in der Lehre vom Ebenbild Gottes gegeben.” Caution should be exercised in making such sweeping assertions concerning “the” central idea of any theologian‟s system. In fact, most theologians have a collection of key ideas that motivate their teachings. Furthermore, that which may be a key idea at one time in their life can certainly change during another period of their development. 4 Heron, “Homo Peccator,” 32. A similar emphasis can be found in David Cairns, The Image of God in Man, Revised ed. (London: Collins, 1973), 128–31, 143–5. Cairns even goes so far as to say that concerning the image of God, Calvin‟s “contribution is even greater than Augustine‟s.” See the caution expressed in note 3 above. 5 Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, ix. See the caution expressed in note 3 above. 6 Although not exhaustive, the following is a list of some of the major studies on Osiander, his view of justification, and Calvin‟s critique of it: Marinus J. Arntzen, Mystieke rechtvaardigingsleer: een bijdrage ter beoordeling van de theologie van Andreas Osiander (Kampen: J.H. Kok, 1956); Bente, Historical Introductions; John F. Brug, “Osiandrianism Then and Now: Justification Through Christ Dwelling in Us,” [Online Essay] [cited 2009]); available from www.wlsessays.net; Julie Canlis, “Calvin, Osiander and Participation in God,” International Journal of Systematic Theology 6, no. 2 (2004); Clive S. Chin, “Calvin, Mystical Union, and Spirituality,” Torch Trinity Journal 6, no. 1 (2003); Mark A. Garcia, “Imputation and the Christology of Union with Christ: Calvin, Osiander, and the Contemporary Quest for a Reformed Model,” WTJ 68 (2006); Emanuel Hirsch, Die Theologie des Andreas Osiander und ihre geschichtliche Voraussetzungen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1919); Stephen Strehle, “Imputatio Iustitiae: Its Origin in Melanchthon, Its Opposition in Osiander,” TZ 50, no. 3 (1994); Stupperich, Osiander in Preussen; James Weis, “Calvin Versus Osiander on Justification,” in Articles on Calvin and Calvinism: A Fourteen Volume Anthology of Scholarly Articles, ed. Richard C. Gamble (New York: Garland Publishing, 1992); Patricia Wilson-Kastner, “Andreas Osiander‟s Theology of Grace in the Perspective of the Influence of Augustine of Hippo,” Sixteenth Century Journal 10, no. 2 (1979) and Gunter Zimmerman, “Calvins Auseinandersetzung mit Osianders Rechtfertigungslehre,” KD 35 (1989). 7 Several standard texts in English for the study of Calvin‟s theology in general, and anthropology in particular, are Wilhelm Niesel, The Theology of Calvin, trans. Harold Knight (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1956); Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man; Wendel, Calvin: Origins and Development. On p. 120 Wendel briefly mentions Osiander in connection with the imago Dei, while Niesel and Torrance do not even do that much. More recent studies on Calvin‟s doctrine of

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chapter, a modest attempt will be made to begin rectifying this situation. However, before analyzing Calvin‟s polemic against Osiander‟s De imagine Dei, a brief introduction to the man himself is in order. Andreas Osiander was born circa 1498 in Gunzenhausen, Germany.8 He began his formal studies at the University of Ingolstadt in 1515. There he came under the instruction of the well-known Hebraist, Johannes Reuchlin, who instilled in Osiander a love for the Semitic languages. Reuchlin also introduced him to the writings of the Jewish rabbis, including the more esoteric writings of the Cabala. In 1520 he was ordained as a priest, first teaching at the Augustinian monastery in Nuremberg, and then two years later, serving as preacher in the parish church of St. Lorenz. For the next twenty-five years, both in his preaching and his pastoral work, Osiander spearheaded a reformation in Nuremberg, leading its citizens away from the doctrines and ceremonies of Rome and feeding them instead with the evangelical message of salvation by faith in Christ alone. In this regard he was pursuing the same goal as Martin Luther, his older colleague in Wittenberg. Osiander‟s intellect was well-known, his advice was often sought, and in particular, his preaching on Luther‟s Smaller Catechism was much cherished by many Germans.9 By the same token, Osiander‟s reformatory actions were not without controversy. At times the disagreements surrounded his own personality; he was reputed to be a noticeably outspoken and notoriously obstinate man. In the end, matters came to a head in 1548 when the city council of Nuremberg, without consulting its theologians, decided to adopt a new order of the image of God, such as Dempsey Douglass, “The Image of God in Humanity” and Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, mention Osiander in passing; however, they do not deal with his views in detail. The most comprehensive information on the topic can be found in studies written in Dutch and German, such as Arntzen, Mystieke rechtvaardigingsleer, 46–76 and Hirsch, Die Theologie des Andreas Osiander, 152–72. This regrettable lack of attention to Calvin‟s polemic against Osiander‟s view of the imago Dei, particularly in the English-speaking world, is noted by Faber, J., “Imago Dei in Calvin,” 234, 238. 8 The biographical details concerning Osiander have been gleaned from the following sources: Gottfried Seebass, “The Reformation in Nürnberg,” in The Social History of the Reformation, ed. Lawrence P. Buck and Jonathan W. Zophy (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1972), 17–40; Gottfried Seebass, “Andreas Osiander,” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Reformation, ed. Hans J. Hillerbrand (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996); David Steinmetz, Reformers in the Wings (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977), 64–9; Stupperich, Osiander in Preussen. Osiander‟s year of birth is uncertain. Most authors indicate he was born in 1498, but the well-known Osiander scholar, Gottfried Seebass, suggests he might have been born in 1496. 9 See Maurice Schild, “Observations on Osiander‟s Catechism Sermons,” Lutheran Theological Journal 20 (1986): 97, who mentions that Michael Reu, an authority on Luther‟s catechisms, describes Osiander‟s catechism sermons as “the first and a most excellent exposition of Luther‟s Small Catechism.” The sermons themselves can be found in Andreas Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, ed. Gottfried Seebass and Gerhard Müller (Gutersloh: Gutersloher Verlagshaus, 1975–1997), 5:182–334.

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worship that accommodated the spirit of the Augsburg Interim. In the eyes of Osiander this pact for peace was nothing less than compromise with the papacy. He left Nuremberg in a state of frustration and fury and headed for the city of Königsberg in Prussia, where he anticipated he would receive support from his friend of many years, Duke Albert. His hopes were not in vain. No sooner did he arrive in Königsberg and Albert of Brandenberg swiftly appointed him as pastor in the city and professor at the university, even though the latter appointment transgressed the university‟s regulations. Particularly during his tenure in Königsberg, Osiander began to publish some of his more radical viewpoints. Both An filius Dei fuerti incarnandus and De Justificatione were published from Prussia, and both treatises set aflame a doctrinal firestorm within Lutheran circles that burned much longer than Osiander himself lived. The confessional resolution of these debates came in 1580 when the Book of Concord was finalized and Osiandrianism, as it became known, was officially condemned. Meanwhile, Osiander had already died in 1552, almost three decades before this ecclesiastical pronouncement. The question of whether or not the Book of Concord does justice to the teachings of Osiander is an ember that is still glowing to this very day.10 Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that during the later years of his life, with increasing frequency, the professor of Königsberg set forth propositions which might more readily be attributed to various radical reformers rather than a preacher following in the footsteps of Luther. For example, already in 1544 he published an apocalyptic work, Coniecturae de ultimis temporibus ac de fine mundi, in which he predicted the final destruction of Rome in 1672 and the final return of Christ himself in 1688.11 Such predictions are reminiscent of the apocalyptic prophecies of a man like Thomas Müntzer. Furthermore, as time went on, Osiander adopted an increasingly speculative approach to theology.12 Finally and ironically, even though during his Nuremberg years he was a fervent opponent of the papacy13 and a strident adversary of the Anabaptists,14 Osiander ended up 10 For a recent defence of Osiander see Strehle, “Imputatio iustitiae,” 214–9. Strehle maintains that Martin Luther‟s soteriology is more comprehensive than just the great, forensic exchange of Christ‟s merits in the place of the sinner‟s iniquity. Furthermore, Strehle argues that Lutherans, by exalting Melanchthon too highly, have neglected some important biblical teachings that Osiander brought to light. 11 Bernard McGinn, “Reading Revelation: Joachim of Fiore and the Varieties of Apocalypse Exegesis in the Sixteenth Century,” in Storia e figure dell‟Apocalisse fra „500 e „600: Atti del 4 Congresso internazionale di studi gioachimiti San Giovanni in Fiore, 14–17 settembre 1994, ed. Roberto Rusconi (Rome: Viella, 1994), 21. 12 J. Fligge, “Zur Interpretation der osiandrischen Theologie Herzog Albrechts v. Preussen,” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte 64 (1973) and Wilson-Kastner, “Theology of Grace,” 74. 13 Note his departure from Nuremberg over the matter of the Augsburg Interim. 14 Williams, Radical Reformation, 150–2; Harold J. Grimm, “The Role of Nuremberg in the Spread of the Reformation,” in Continuity and Discontinuity in Church History: Essays Presented

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promoting ideas which had much in common with men like Hans Denck and Caspar Schwenckfeld,15 as well as advocating a doctrine of justification which had Roman Catholic overtones.16 In short, historically speaking, Osiander finds his place within the line of German Lutheran theologians in the sixteenth century, but theologically speaking, he eventually leaned heavily in the direction of some rather radical and unorthodox views. Our exploration of Osiander‟s views will begin with a detailed analysis of his teaching on the image of God. Along with that analysis, we will also make a point of briefly tracing how his perspective on the image of God affected other areas of his theological system. This will be followed by a description of how Calvin refuted Osiander‟s teachings.

6.1.1 De imagine Dei, quid sit (1550) Osiander‟s extended excursus on the image of God is embedded within his essay on the incarnation of Christ. He makes the connection between the two as follows: This question of whether or not God‟s Son would have become incarnate, even if human nature had not fallen, depends for the largest part by far upon a correct understanding of the image of God, in which we have been made.17

Osiander‟s insertion of an anthropological topic within a Christological discussion indicates two things. In the first place, it demonstrates that he does not regard the image of God as an isolated doctrine. On the contrary, it is tied, as if by many diverse threads, to the other major loci of theological discourse. Second, Osiander‟s melding of incarnation and imago serves as a reminder that theologians often approach a certain doctrine with various, ulterior questions circling about in their minds. It remains to be seen whether or not Osiander lets his Christological queries unduly colour his comprehension of the creation of man. Along similar lines, in his excursus on the image of God, Osiander also forges a link between anthropology and soteriology. As mentioned above, in the same year that he wrote De imagine Dei he also published his more widely-known book, De Justificatione. In the latter publication he advanced his teaching of infused, rather than merely imputed, righteousness. Howto George Huntston Williams on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday, ed. F. Forrester Church and Timothy George (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1979), 193. 15 Williams, Radical Reformation, 825. 16 Weis, “Calvin Versus Osiander,” 364. 17 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:462; all quotations from De imagine Dei are my own translations.

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ever, this notion of infused, or indwelling, righteousness is already an integral and substantial part of De imagine Dei. In fact, it might even be said that Osiander‟s soteriology was an inevitable result of his anthropology.18 So what are the main tenets of Osiander‟s view of the image of God? In his own conclusion he points to three things which he holds as certainties. In the first place, the “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God and of the virgin Mary, is the image of the invisible God.”19 Second, before the fall into sin, Adam “bore this very same image [of Christ] in his outward appearance.” 20 This image was entirely lost, or at least severely damaged, by the fall. However, in the third place, Osiander considers that in the regenerate “this same image is truly restored”21 so that those who are in Christ will shine like the sun in God‟s eternal kingdom. These main points, as well as some related matters, will be examined in detail below. 6.1.1.1 The Whole Man in God‟s Image If one thing is clear from Osiander‟s reflections on the image of God, it is that he regards the whole man – soul, spirit, and body22 – as the proper seat of the image of God. For him the inclusion of the human body in the imago Dei is a self-evident conclusion from Genesis 1:26 where God says, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness.” Expounding on this verse Osiander remarks: And here what must be noted foremost is the fact that it does not state: “Let us make part of man, or faculties of the soul, or virtues in the soul, in our image, in our likeness,” but rather: “man himself.” Moreover, in Hebrew man is called “Adam,” which is from “adamah,” that is, “earth,” from which he was taken and to which he will return. Now the mind is not man, but only a part of the man, which Paul calls “spirit.” Therefore, the mind is not the image of God. Likewise, the memory, the intellect and the will are not “man,” but faculties of the soul, and the soul is part of man. Therefore, they are not the image of God. Besides, Satan also has a memory, an intellect and a will, and yet he does not have the image of God. Therefore, the memory, the intellect, and the will are not the image of God, and much less so reason itself, being lower than intellect.23

18 See Williams, Radical Reformation, 654–5, who writes, “Osiander‟s physical justification resulted from his previously expressed view of man as created in the image of the eternal idea of the God-Man operative in the Old Testament theophanies and finally incarnate in Jesus.” 19 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480–1. 20 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480–1. 21 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480–1. 22 Osiander holds to a trichotomist understanding of the human being. 23 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:462–3.

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In addition, Osiander finds confirmation for his point of view in the New Testament, particularly in 1 Corinthians 11:7. There the Apostle Paul writes that man is “the image and glory of God.” In the Vulgate the word used for man is vir, that is, a male, rather than the more generic homo. Obviously, a male human being is distinguished from a female by the differences in their bodies, not by any dissimilarity between their respective souls. Therefore, also on the basis of this Pauline passage Osiander concludes that the imago Dei extends to the human body.24 The radical nature of Osiander‟s teaching should not be overlooked. Men of historical and ecclesiastical stature such as Augustine of Hippo and Peter Lombard held to a different view; namely, that the imago Dei was seated in the mind. However, Osiander criticizes them for establishing their teaching upon human ideas rather than upon the testimony of Holy Scripture.25 To be sure, he acknowledges that almost every theologian preceding him taught, in one way or another, that the seat of the imago is the human soul or some faculty thereof.26 Nevertheless, this nearly unanimous consensus does not deter him from focussing the image of God upon the entire human being including, in particular, the body. At the same time, few people wish to stand alone in complete isolation, and in that regard Königsberg‟s professor is no exception. Hence he manages to find one name that he claims will support him: the renowned doctor of Wittenberg, Martin Luther himself.27 Now, if the only two foundation stones supporting Osiander‟s position were his exegesis of “man” (Heb. ʾadam) in Genesis 1 and his appeal to Luther, then the edifice of his opinion would be unstable. However, he goes on to lay a much more significant stone in place, namely, the Cornerstone, Christ himself. Osiander includes the physical human body in his understanding of the imago Dei primarily because, as he sees it, Adam was created in the image of incarnate Christ. Consequently, just as Christ cannot be properly understood without reference to his humanity, including his physi-

24

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:463. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:462. 26 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:473. 27 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:473. In his Lectures on Genesis Luther writes, “Therefore, the image of God, according to which Adam was created, was something far more distinguished and excellent, since obviously no leprosy of sin adhered either to his reason or to his will. Both his inner and his outer sensations were all of the purest kind […]. I am fully convinced that before Adam‟s sin his eyes were so sharp and clear that they surpassed those of the lynx and eagle.” Martin Luther, Luther‟s Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan (St. Louis: Concordia, 1955–1986), 1:60. This may be the passage from which Osiander infers that Luther included the body in the imago Dei. However, it is an entirely different question whether Luther would support the rest of Osiander‟s explanation of the image of God. 25

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cal body, so also man, created in the image of Christ, cannot be comprehended correctly without including his body.

6.1.1.2 The Incarnate Christ is the Image In order to explain how the Word who became flesh is the image of God, Osiander turns to passages in the New Testament which speak about seeing God or seeing Christ. Apparently, for him the visio Dei is an integral part of the imago Dei. To begin with, Osiander directs his reader‟s attention to Matthew 5:8 and John 14:9. In the first text, Christ, “the most mild Teacher,”28 instructs his disciples, saying, “Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God.” Yet how can the eye of sinful man behold the glorious vision of the most holy God? To answer this, Osiander moves ahead to John 14 where Christ says to Philip, “Anyone who sees me has seen the Father.” Thus, it is only in and through Christ the Son that anyone may see the holy and heavenly Father. However, when Philip sees the Christ, precisely whom does he see? Osiander emphasizes that the disciple from Bethsaida saw the incarnate Christ, “the Son of God and of the virgin, having flesh and bones, indeed, „the Word made flesh.‟”29 Although people today do not see the incarnate Christ with their own physical eyes, as Philip did, they can still see him through the eyes of faith, although seeing through faith is admittedly like seeing a poor reflection in a mirror.30 Osiander‟s emphasis on the incarnate Christ continues as he turns from the Gospels to the Epistles.31 He notes that in Col 1:15 the Son of God is identified as “the image of the invisible God.” Yet from the context it is clear to him that this can be none other than the Son of God incarnate. For the only way in which Christ could obtain “redemption, the forgiveness of sins” (v 14) is by taking upon himself true human nature, including flesh and blood from the virgin Mary. Likewise, when the apostle later speaks about the Son being “the Head of the Church,” in Osiander‟s opinion this can be understood in no other way than that the Word-become-flesh is head of the church, which is his body and which is composed of flesh-and-blood human beings (Eph 1:22–23). Otherwise the Head and the body would be too dissimilar to be joined so intimately.

28

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:464. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:464. 30 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:464; Osiander alludes here to 1 Cor 13:12. It must be remembered that mirrors in the 16th century were polished pieces of metal and did not give the precise, photographic-quality reflections to which we are accustomed today. See Melchior-Bonnet, The Mirror, 11–6. 31 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:465. 29

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Next, looking at 2 Corinthians 4:4, Osiander points out that the apostle again identifies Christ as “the image of God,” and once more the context, both before and after that phrase, speaks about the Son of God in his incarnate state. He writes: For here also mention of “the gospel” comes first, and “the Lord Jesus” is mentioned afterward, but “the gospel” is the proclamation of the death and resurrection of the Son of God, which cannot be understood except as it pertains to a true man. And “the Lord Jesus” is not merely the Word of the Father, but is certainly also true man. Therefore, here too the image of God is enclosed by the human nature of Christ which both precedes and follows it. Therefore the image of God should be understood as referring not simply to the Word of God, but to the Word made incarnate.32

Based on these NT passages, Osiander firmly rejects the teaching of the early church fathers and the medieval schoolmen that the Son Absolute, or the Divine Logos, is the image of the eternal Father.33 He further substantiates his rejection using logical argumentation. In the first place, if the Son, absolutely and exclusively in his divinity, is said to be the image of the Father, who is also divine, then this is nothing more than saying that God is the image of God. And that, says Osiander, is not merely a tautology; it is “simply impossible.”34 Second, if the Divine Logos, without regard to his humanity, is the image of God, then it is again impossible to say that human beings are created in the image of God, for between Logos and laos lies a chasm of disparity. “There simply is, and remains, an infinite dissimilarity between man and the Word of God.”35 Yet, even if, for the sake of argument, Osiander is deemed correct in identifying the incarnate Christ as the image of God, the question remains: how can he teach that in the beginning Adam was created in the image of the incarnate Christ when the incarnation itself did not occur until long after Adam was created? In order to solve this conundrum, attention must be given to Osiander‟s exegetical distinction between image and likeness.

6.1.1.3 The Corporeal Image and the Incorporeal Likeness Within the history of biblical interpretation one finds a long-standing view that there is a difference between “image” and “likeness” in Genesis 1.36 32

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:465. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:471. 34 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:471. 35 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:472. 36 Irenaeus was one of the first to expound this distinction. Thereafter, many medieval scholars maintained that the image referred to the natural gifts which God gave to Adam and Eve, while likeness referred to the supernatural gifts, that is, the so-called donum superadditum. See chapter 2 for more details. 33

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Generally speaking, Osiander also stands within that interpretive stream. However, he works it out in his own unique way. He draws the line of demarcation between the corporeal, or substantial, nature of the image and the incorporeal, or insubstantial, nature of the likeness. Elucidating this distinction further, he notes that in the Old Testament the Hebrew word ṣelem is most often used for the images of foreign gods, which the surrounding nations, or even the Israelites themselves, would fabricate out of gold, silver, wood, or stone. Those idol images were not only visible but also tangible; in short, they were corporeal.37 Scanning again through the Old Testament, Osiander observes that the Hebrew word demuth is usually employed to describe a visual representation, or a likeness, which appears in a vision or perhaps is pictured in someone‟s mind. For example, in one of his visions Daniel saw the likeness of a man.38 Yet that particular likeness had neither substance nor subsistence. When the vision was over the likeness was gone. Along similar lines, although in a different context, when King Ahaz was in Damascus he saw an altar and sent a likeness of that altar to Uriah the priest. This likeness would have been sketched on a piece of leather or perhaps pressed into a tablet of clay. Again, the leather and the clay were both corporeal; however, the likeness of the altar itself was merely a visual representation which did not take on any tangible form until Uriah built the duplicate altar in Jerusalem. In this way, for Osiander, a likeness is a visual, yet incorporeal, representation which enters the eyes.39 One might expect that with his image-versus-likeness distinction carefully drawn, Osiander would now be in a position to apply this to the creation of man in Genesis 1. Yet, surprisingly, he travels down an alternate path, applying it instead to Christ. He works it out as follows: […] the image of God [is] the appearance and stature of the complete body, and thus the entire substance of human nature [was] glorified in our Lord Jesus Christ, “in which [image] the whole fullness of God dwells in bodily form.”40

In other words, when the eternal Son of God took upon himself true human nature, from the flesh and blood of his mother Mary, then, at that very moment of incarnation, the Son became the corporeal image of God. Before that time, the likeness only “existed infallibly in the divine mind” 41 of the Father. Yet even though the Son of God was not actually the corporeal 37 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:467. What Osiander fails to mention is that zelem is also used in Scripture for incorporeal things, such as shadows or even apparitions. See Ps 39:6 and Ps 73:20. 38 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:467; Dan 10:16. 39 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:467. 40 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:467. 41 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:468.

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imago Dei until his incarnation, he did appear nevertheless in an incorporeal likeness of that image long before that. Osiander corroborates his exegesis by providing a long list of occasions in the Old Testament where Christ appeared as an incorporeal likeness of the future incarnate image of God: the Lord speaking to Adam, rebuking Cain, appearing to Moses in the burning bush, and standing before Joshua in the fields of Jericho. All these instances, and many more, were occasions at which a visual representation, or likeness, of the future, incarnate Christ was revealed to one of God‟s people.42 Using his distinction between image and likeness, Osiander can also explain how it is possible that Adam was created in the image of the incarnate Christ even before the Son of God became incarnate. Already from eternity the image of the incarnate Christ existed “infallibly” in God‟s mind,43 so it was not difficult for him to create Adam using his own divine, mental template. At this point a legitimate question might be raised. Since God said, “Let us make man in our image,” why does Osiander speak of humans created in the image of the incarnate Christ? Does his explanation not reduce the Trinitarian “our” into an exclusively Christological “his”? The author of De imagine Dei anticipates this objection and answers by pointing to John 14:9 where Christ says to Philip, “whoever has seen me has seen the Father,” as well as John 3:34 where John the Baptist declares that Christ gives the Holy Spirit without limit.44 In the final analysis, Adam was still made in the image of the Triune God, as the “our” of Gen 1:26 indicates, but only because this Triune image is conveyed to Adam through the preincarnate humanity of Christ. In passing we should note that this also addresses Osiander‟s over-arching Christological inquiry. Would the Son of God have become incarnate even if sin had not entered the world? For Königsberg‟s professor, the answer is most certainly in the affirmative. The Son of God had to become incarnate, not merely for the sake of saving sinners, but ultimately for the sake of having the true Exemplar according to which Adam was created. Furthermore, it is not without reason, Osiander argues, that in Genesis 5 the Scriptures say that God made (facere) man in his likeness, whereas in Genesis 1 God had said, “Let us create (creare) man in our image.” The Vulgate uses various verbs to describe God‟s act of making man. Osiander‟s definitions of these words45 can be summarized as follows: 42

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:468–9. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:468. 44 Note that there is an exegetical issue in this passage as to whether it is the Father who gives the Spirit to Christ without limit, or Christ who gives believers the Holy Spirit without limit. Osiander obviously follows the later interpretation. 45 Information taken from Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:466. 43

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creare: to make something out of nothing fingere: to shape the external appearance of a corporeal object edificare: to construct and organize the internal parts of a corporeal object facere: an inclusive term which incorporates all the semantic range of creare, fingere and edificare combined It is noteworthy that he defines these verbs with a decided emphasis on the physical aspects of Adam‟s being. As a result, when the Scriptures say in Gen 5 that God made (facere) man in his likeness, Osiander follows through with this emphasis and says that God made Adam‟s body in such a way that it resembled the future, glorified body of the incarnate Christ. Christ‟s glory is described in the following manner: Hence his intellect was totally lucid; his memory was astonishingly tenacious and extraordinarily ordered; his reason was entirely unencumbered; his will was always compliant to God; his desire was perfectly pure; his senses were extremely sharp; his body was so completely healthy that he was not vulnerable either to death or to sickness or to any infirmity – unless Christ, of his own volition, wished otherwise for our sake. Indeed, externally his body was splendid and radiant, even beyond the brilliance of the sun, due to the indwelling divinity!46

To be sure, the faculties of the soul, such as the intellect and the will, are mentioned here. However, and notably so, the abilities and appearance of the body, such as senses and outward splendour, receive equal attention.

6.1.1.4 Image as Love from and for God At the same time, Osiander treats the imago Dei as more than a mere question of who or what man is. According to him it is also a matter of to whom man belongs. In short, there is a relational aspect at the heart of this doctrine.47 Notice how he makes the transition from essence to affiliation: But God completed this act of making man in the image of God not just by creating, forming and fashioning, but by revealing himself [to man], by speaking [with him] in familiar terms, by teaching, instructing, blessing and bestowing benefits and by breathing his spirit upon him […]. Then, although [Adam] saw that he had been placed in the most pleasant part of the world as if in a theatre, in which everything was to be contemplated and admired with great delight, even so he is transferred into paradise by the Son of God, which already then had been planted with such special zeal that it easily surpassed every other place on earth in attractiveness, wholesome46

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:475. For interesting, more modern, parallels cf. Barth, Church Dogmatics, 3.1.183–7; Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 45–6. 47

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ness, the abundance of all things and fertility. From all this he gains, without a doubt, an even greater loyalty toward God, and he glows with an even greater and greater love for him.48

It is noteworthy that God‟s finishing touches, such as speaking to Adam, blessing him, and placing him in the Garden, are not regarded as afterthoughts. Rather they are the final step in that “work” which is the “act of making man in the image of God.” Thus, the Lord‟s love shown to Adam and Adam‟s love kindled for the Lord are both integral parts of the image of God. This relational aspect is crucial for Osiander as it provides him with a bridge from the image of God in man to one of his most cherished dogmas: the indwelling of God within man. Although on occasion he describes the relation between God and Adam as one of friendship,49 it is clear that this German theologian desires to go much further than that. His goal is to instill in his readers the conviction that God dwells within the temple of our human bodies even as Christ‟s own divinity dwells within his human nature. Thus, just as our Lord Jesus Christ by nature is God and man, so also Adam, by nature man, through grace is a partner and partaker of the divine nature. And thus, in the end, man was made in the image of God, in his likeness, because the body of Adam was like the body of Christ, the soul of Adam was like the soul of Christ, and God was in Adam through grace just as He is in Christ through nature.50

6.1.1.5 Original Righteousness It should come as no surprise that Osiander‟s excursus on the image of God also touches upon the original righteousness of man. After all, when the Apostle Paul speaks about the restoration of the image, “true righteousness” is front and centre (Eph 4:24). At the same time, Osiander has his own unique understanding of precisely what that original righteousness was. He defines it in this way: From all these things it should now be entirely evident what the original righteousness in Adam was. Certainly it was not only the uprightness of the faculties of his soul, as the schoolmen are wont to say, but it was the righteousness of God conveyed to him through his knowledge of God, whereby it happened that God out of mere grace dwelt in Adam as if in his own temple. Indeed, Adam was righteous by God‟s

48

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:475. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:476. Here he asks concerning Adam, “Did he not realize that God was a friend to him?” 50 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:476–7. 49

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righteousness, and he lived by the life of the Word of God, and he was internally adorned with the glory of God, for these three are inseparable.51

Thus, Osiander does not deny that Adam was created with an “uprightness of the faculties of his soul.” At the same time, he goes further by stating that God‟s righteousness, his life, and his glory are inseparable. Therefore, since God‟s glory belongs to the regenerate man (1 Cor 11:7), so also God‟s life and God‟s righteousness must belong to him as well. In other words, the original righteousness does not refer so much to the quality or excellence of Adam‟s own understanding or volition, but more so to the indwelling of the righteous God within Adam‟s body, even as later on in sacred history this same God dwelt in the temple in Jerusalem. Accordingly, this original righteousness is a supernatural gift bestowed upon Adam by God at creation. Ultimately, this endowment was comprised of nothing less than the gift of God himself.52 As a result, the iustitia orginalis is not an integral part of Adam‟s nature; instead, it is a donum superadditum. To his fellow reformers who, at this point, might immediately see the red flags of Roman Catholic theology, Osiander replies that they have little to fear. He acknowledges that speaking about the original righteousness as a supernatural gift allows for the possibility that in the fall the donum superadditum is lost but the underlying human nature carries on unscathed. He is also aware that this in turn might open the door to all manner of semiPelagian heresy. However, Osiander sees no need for such alarm. So far as he is concerned, when the original, supernatural righteousness was lost, then the underlying human nature must have been affected also. He illustrates his position by using an analogy of letters written with ink upon a piece of paper. “Although we see that the letters we write are clearly not paper by nature, nevertheless they cannot be erased without damaging paper.”53 However, this prompts the astute reader to ask whether the fall into sin merely scratched or tore the human nature, as the vigorous rubbing of an eraser might do to a sheet of paper, or whether our first parents‟ transgression had more damaging consequences than that.

6.1.1.6 The Image after the Fall: Thoroughly Lost or Greatly Corrupted? Osiander finds the aforementioned query a difficult one to answer. 54 On the one hand, when Adam forsakes the Lord and his command, then the Lord also withdraws from Adam. So far as Osiander is concerned, the imago Dei 51

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:478. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:478. 53 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:479. 54 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:479–80. 52

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has everything to do with the indwelling of God in Adam; therefore, when the Lord leaves it would seem certain that the image is entirely gone. On the other hand, even an unregenerate human being is still a human being. “The body, the soul, and the spirit or mind of man survives.”55 Borrowing some imagery from ancient Greek poetry, Osiander explains that even though the outward appearance of Thersites is vastly inferior to the physical splendour of Nireus, both are still recognized as human beings.56 Similarly, even though a sinful man is a vastly vitiated form of Christ, there is still a certain likeness in that both have a human nature composed of body, soul, and spirit. Taking the aforementioned factors into consideration, Osiander finds it hard to decide whether the image was entirely lost or severely damaged, although he is more inclined to say that it has been entirely lost.57 One thing about which Osiander has no hesitation is that the fall into sin affects the whole man – body, soul, and spirit – even as the original image extended to the whole man. Once again, the human body receives a significant part of Osiander‟s attention. He begins by mentioning the expected examples of the fall‟s effect on the body, such as susceptibility to disease and death. Yet he does not stop there. He goes on to add some more, rather unsettling, instances of iniquity‟s impact upon our physical form. He writes: The innate charm of the physical form was corrupted into a garment of vices. In irritable people, their eyes jut out and their nose becomes pointed. In foolish people, their ears are elongated and movable, as I myself have seen on occasion. In quarrelsome and disparaging people, their lip hangs too low. In spiteful people, the pigment of their skin is bluish.58

With these observations Osiander reveals that he is fascinated not only with theology, but also with physiognomy.

6.1.1.7 The Image Restored Nevertheless, in spite of the havoc which the fall has brought upon the human race, there is hope for restoration in Christ. Through faith in him, the mind which was darkened becomes more lucid again; the will which became stubborn is made pliable again. In this way, the person who is restored through faith in Christ becomes like Christ once more.59 However, in addi55

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:479. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. Thersites is a notoriously ugly Greek soldier from Troy, while Nireus is a famously handsome Greek soldier from Troy. 57 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. 58 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. 59 It is noteworthy that in spite of all his emphasis on the imago Dei pertaining to the body, he does not mention any present benefit for the body in the state of restoration. It appears that all the benefits of the restoration on the body must wait until the consummation. 56

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tion to that, through faith he starts to see Christ, albeit vaguely, as if in a mirror.60 Here Osiander pulls a thread of consistency through his doctrine of the image of God. Close to the beginning of his excursus he closely linked the imago Dei with the visio Dei. Now in the state of restoration he returns to this same theme. At the same time, Osiander is not content to leave restoration in Christ as a re-creation in the likeness of Christ by faith. In addition to the engrafting power of faith, there is the transforming strength of the Spirit. Appealing to 2 Cor 3:18, he says: And not only is He in us through faith – although, yes, it is through faith – [but] as those who look for the glory of God in the appearance of his countenance, or rather, as if receiving his glory reflected in a mirror, we are being transformed with everincreasing clarity into that same image, as it were, by the Spirit of the Lord.61

The Spirit‟s transformation of the fallen human being enables God himself to once again dwell in that person. As previously noted, Osiander believes that to participate in the divine nature means that “just as our Lord Jesus Christ by nature is God and man, so also Adam, by nature man, through grace is a partner and partaker of the divine nature.” What remains to be mentioned is that he goes on to say, “Thus in his entirety Adam was a reflection of Christ, and all and as much as he was, [Adam] was in the image and likeness of God.”62 With this statement Osiander indicates the extent to which those who are in Christ participate in the divine nature. In short, with body and soul, with heart and mind, yes, with all that they are, Christians partake of the divine nature. Finally, if a synopsis of Osiander‟s doctrine of the image of God is desired, the professor from Königsberg is capable of speaking for himself. He sums it up as follows: It is nevertheless certain that our Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God and of the virgin Mary, is the image of the invisible God. It is also certain that Adam, our first parent, before the fall bore the same image in his outward appearance, not by nature surely, but out of mere grace and by the goodwill of God. For this reason Paul has said that man is the image and glory of God. It is also certain that after the fall this same image is truly restored in those who are reborn, so that, according to Paul and John, when our Glory appears, by whom He has glorified us, we shall be like him, as Christ says, “We shall shine like the sun in the kingdom of our Father.”63

60

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:477. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:477. 62 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:477; emphasis mine. 63 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480–1. 61

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6.1.2 Calvin‟s Refutation of Osiander John Calvin first met Andreas Osiander in person at the Colloquy of Worms (1540/41). To say the least, he was not impressed with the demeanour of Nuremberg‟s representative at the conference. Years later he recounts to Melanchthon how Osiander would sarcastically refer to the sacramental cup of wine as “I am that I am” or “This is the Son of the living God.” 64 Osiander may have used such language in order to mock the papal doctrine of transubstantiation, but Calvin felt it was, at minimum, a show of “abominable manners,” and, even worse, almost a blasphemous mocking of God himself. Indeed, he regarded Osiander‟s unrestrained rhetoric as a clear indication that “he belonged to that race of wild animals which are never tamed.”65 In another letter, also sent to Melanchthon, Calvin is ashamed at how the reformer of Nuremberg attacks his fellow reformers with such vicious tenacity. Indeed, Osiander had assailed Zwingli and Oecolampadius in such “an unmannerly style” that Calvin exclaims, “What pleasant sport and pastime do we afford to the Papists, as if we had hired ourselves to do their work!”66 This same theme of the Nuremberger‟s lack of restraint comes out in Calvin‟s ecclesiastical advice, Contra Osiandrum, which he commences forthwith by asserting, “He [Osiander] could have been helpful to the church of God if he were moderate, but when he is burning to show his cleverness, no religious feeling or moderation or even shame restrains him from trying to overthrow everything.”67 Still, even if Calvin is disturbed by Osiander‟s uncouth and uncontrolled conduct, to be fair he must also interact with the latter‟s writings, thus adhering to the standard of ad fontes not just ad hominem. To be sure, Calvin does this, and his assessment can be broadly organized according to the schema of creation, fall, and restoration.

6.1.2.1 The Imago Dei as Created Despite the clash of personalities between Osiander and Calvin, there are convictions that they held in common. To begin with, both men dispense of Augustine‟s Trinitarian view of the imago Dei and both do so in a rather

64

CO 14:416–417; Calvin, Letters, 2:379. CO 14:416; Calvin, Letters, 2:378. 66 CO 12:11–12; Calvin, Letters, 1:437–8. A more complete list of Calvin‟s correspondence about Osiander can be found in Weis, “Calvin Versus Osiander,” 358. 67 CO 10:165; John Calvin, Calvin‟s Ecclesiastical Advice, trans. Mary Beaty and Benjamin W. Farley (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1991), 32. 65

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summary fashion68 – this despite the fact that Osiander began his teaching career at an Augustinian monastery and Calvin ever held the bishop of Hippo in high esteem. Along similar lines, both theologians have little patience for the trifling debates of those who wish to analyze, as it were by microscope, how the various faculties of the soul interact with each other. Osiander calls such pursuits an “idle, indulgent ingenuity”69 while Calvin labels them as “trivial and useless matters.”70 Likewise, in order to define in detail the image and likeness in which God originally created human beings, both reformers appeal to the New Testament to shed light on the Old Testament, specifically Genesis 1. However, this is where the similarities end and the differences begin. When Calvin turns to the New Testament, he looks to a passage such as Eph 4:22–24, which is specifically about the restoration of the imago Dei in those who believe in Christ.71 By contrast, although he is certainly aware of passages such as Eph 4:24 and Col 3:9,72 Osiander concentrates on New Testament passages which speak about seeing God, such as Matt 5:8 and John 14:9.73 At first glance these passages do not appear to speak directly or indirectly about the definition of the image of God at creation. However, according to Osiander, there is a connection. God created the whole man – body, soul, and spirit – to be his image. Moreover, since the image of God has such a significant physical component to it, namely, Adam‟s body, the image has everything to do with seeing and visibility. For him imago Dei entails visio Dei. Yet it is precisely at this point that Calvin voices his first major objection against Osiander‟s teaching. Not only is Calvin a dichotomist,74 as opposed to Osiander‟s trichotomist position,75 but more importantly, the pastor from Geneva accuses Königsberg‟s pastor of mingling heaven and earth “by indiscriminately extending God‟s image both to the body and to the soul.”76 This does not mean that Calvin categorically rejects any reference to the physical body as part of the image. Although he held to such a rigid position in his younger days, over time he came to understand that the “outward form” of human beings also “more closely joins us to God.” 77 For Osiander‟s rejection of Augustine‟s view see Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:462; for Calvin‟s rejection of the same see CO 2:139; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4. 69 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:462. 70 CO 2:141; OS 3:182–184; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.6. 71 CO 2:138; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4. 72 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. 73 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:464. 74 CO 2:135–136; OS 3:174–176; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.2. 75 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:473. 76 CO 2:136–137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 77 CO 2:136; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 68

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Indeed, in his Contra Osiandrum, Calvin readily admits that Adam was created in such a way that “God‟s glory might shine forth in the separate parts of his soul and even in his body.”78 Thus, it is not Osiander‟s inclusion of the body per se to which Calvin takes exception, but it is the indiscriminate extension of the imago Dei to both body and soul that is problematic. It appears that Osiander‟s dearth of discretion has reared its head again. The Prussian professor stresses that God formed the body and soul of Adam in the image of the body and soul of the yet-to-be-incarnate Christ, who is the principal image of God. However, in placing such great emphasis on the incarnate Word as the image of God, Osiander becomes guilty of various absurdities. For example, Calvin writes: I should like to know from him how in the flesh that he took upon himself Christ resembles the Holy Spirit, and by what marks or lineaments he expresses his likeness. And since that saying, “Let us make man,” etc [Gen. 1:26], is common also to the person of the Son, it would follow that he is the image of himself. This is repugnant to all reason.79

It is hard to disagree with Calvin‟s line of reasoning here since, in fact, Osiander himself admits that, following his position consistently, Christ indeed becomes an image of himself. He puts it in the following manner: Therefore, the visible Christ is the image of the invisible God, as Paul testifies in the same passage [Col 1:15]. However, the invisible God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Therefore Christ is the visible image of the invisible Father and the invisible Son, or the Word, and the invisible Holy Spirit.80

For Osiander this position is not “repugnant to all reason” as Calvin avers, but it is all part of his decidedly visual approach to the imago. Christ incarnate is the visual representation of the eternal, pre-incarnate Son of God. However, according to Calvin imago Dei is not visio Dei but similitudo Dei. It has to do primarily with the attributive similarity which God created between himself – Father, Son,and Holy Spirit – and human beings, so that they are “the noblest and most remarkable example of his [God‟s] justice, wisdom, and goodness.”81 Therefore, the pastor of Geneva also disagrees 78 CO 10:166; Calvin, Ecclesiastical Advice, 33. This is contrary to Arntzen, Mystieke rechtvaardigingsleer, 48, who states that according to Calvin the body does not belong to the image of God. It is true that Calvin maintains the soul as the primary seat of the imago Dei; however, he did allow the body to have a small part in it as well. Mary Potter-Engel offers a valuable insight when she suggests that Calvin adjusts how much emphasis he puts on the role of the body within the imago Dei depending upon the polemical context in which he is writing. See Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 165–6. 79 CO 2:137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 80 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:472. 81 CO 2:134; OS 3:173–174; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.1.

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with the professor of Königsberg concerning his exegesis of the Hebrew words ṣelem (image) and demuth (likeness) in Gen 1:26. Osiander insists that the two are distinctly different: ṣelem refers to a corporeal image while demuth refers to an incorporeal likeness. Yet Calvin maintains that ṣelem and demuth are essentially one and the same thing, and the latter is added as an epexegetical expansion of the former.82 In his favour Calvin can point out that in the very next verse, Gen 1:27, the word “image” is used twice without any need to refer separately to the “likeness.” Similarly, in Gen 5:1, where the creation of Adam is repeated, the term “likeness” is used without any reference to “image.” Shortly thereafter, in verse 5, demuth and ṣelem are used again, but in the reverse order that they appear in Gen 1:26. Consequently, Calvin is correct in that Scripture seems to employ the terms interchangeably. As a result of Osiander‟s predominantly visual and emphatically physical interpretation of the image, he also develops an avid interest into physiognomy, attempting to determine people‟s personalities from their physical features.83 If Osiander was making such statements with his tongue in his cheek, it would not be a matter worth mentioning. Yet for him physiognomy is a matter to be taken seriously, not sarcastically. In the past it has been thought that Osiander acquired his physiognomic fascination from the Jewish Cabala,84 and there can be no doubt that he did read extensively in the writings of the rabbis. For instance, in De imagine Dei he deals at some length with the account of Seerapin, the vision of a “small face,” which appears in the Zohar, one of the most widely known mystical writings of the Jews. Osiander identifies the Seerapin as an incorporeal likeness of the pre-incarnate Christ.85 However, more recently it has come to light that Osiander‟s interest in the link between physical attributes and personality may well have much to do with his admiration of Pico della Mirandola, who was also a disciple of physiognomy.86 In either case, when this Prussian theologian expounds upon the exalted doctrine of the imago Dei by noting that typically there are long noses on irritable individuals and floppy lips on quarrelsome folk, Calvin becomes impatient, declaring him to be guilty of “perverse fantasies while indulging in his own speculations.” 87 Also, he does not spend much time refuting Osiander‟s physiognomic

82

CO 2:137–138; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. 84 Hirsch, Die Theologie des Andreas Osiander, 169. 85 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:469–70. 86 Arntzen, Mystieke rechtvaardigingsleer, 62. Osiander‟s esteem for Pico can be noted at the beginning of An Filius Dei. See Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:459. 87 CO 10:165; Calvin, Ecclesiastical Advice, 32. 83

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speculations because “Osiander‟s fancy concerning the shape of the body readily vanishes of itself.”88

6.1.2.2 The Imago Dei after the Fall Osiander readily admits that “it is not easy to decide whether the image of God in sinful, unregenerate man is only vitiated or indeed entirely lost.”89 For that matter, Calvin also laboured with this question. When he first began writing theological treatises, he was of the opinion that the imago was utterly obliterated.90 Later on, he qualified his position and said that the image “was not totally annihilated and destroyed in him, yet it was so corrupted that whatever remains is frightful deformity.”91 However, between the two men there is a difference in the underlying reason for their struggles with the extent of the fall‟s damage to God‟s image. For Osiander it is the visual aspect that comes to the fore once again. Take, for example, his illustration of Thersites and Nireus, the celebrated soldiers in the Trojan War. The former was notoriously ugly while the latter was famously handsome.92 Nonetheless, as anyone with eyes can observe, both soldiers are equally human. Handsomeness is not a prerequisite for humanness. It is “for this reason,” Osiander writes, “[that] it is not easy to decide whether the image of God in sinful, unregenerate man is only vitiated or indeed entirely lost.”93 As mentioned above, Calvin also wrestles with the question of whether the imago Dei is ruined or eradicated, but he does so for an entirely different reason. Since his view of the image of God focuses on attributive similarity, not visual representation, he is keen to explain how it is that some unregenerate people can still exhibit such a great passion for righteousness, justice, and wisdom. It would seem that the likeness of God is still shining brightly, even in sinners who are outside of Christ. Yet, once more, Calvin employs his distinction between heavenly, eternal things and earthly, temporal things to untangle this theological knot. In the second book of his Institutes, he explains that concerning spiritual matters the image has been obliterated by the fall, but within the realm of earthly things there are some obscure remnants of the image which testify to the original dignity with which God created man.94 88

CO 2:139; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4. Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. 90 Calvin, Épître, 25–6. In this letter Calvin speaks of the image of God being effaced, Fr. en étaient effaces. 91 CO 2:138; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4. 92 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. 93 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480; emphasis mine. 94 CO 2:196–209; OS 3:256–271; Calvin, Institutes, 2.2.13–27. 89

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Remarkably, both theologians can speak in almost identical terms about the devastating effect that sin had on the image of God. Osiander writes: For the mind is oppressed by a terrible blindness, reason by wandering, memory by confusion and forgetfulness and the will by perverseness and stubbornness. The passions are unbridled and our strength does not latch on to any truth.95

Similarly, Calvin confesses: […] in original sin are included blindness of mind and perverseness of heart, so that we are utterly spoiled and destitute of those things which relate to eternal life, and even all natural gifts in us are tainted and depraved.96

Likewise, both men emphasize the need for a complete re-creation of the entire sinner.97 So, at first glance, both appear to adhere to the doctrine of total depravity. Yet, there are indications that Osiander‟s view of total depravity is not as “total” as it might seem. In explaining the effect of the fall upon human nature, he uses the analogy of erasing ink letters from a piece of paper. The reader cannot help but wonder, “If someone erases those letters with extreme care, the paper underneath might hardly be damaged at all. Does this mean that, at least for some people, sin does not severely damage their underlying human faculties and capacities?” Osiander leaves that question hanging in the air. The two theologians also identify the nucleus of Eden‟s tragedy in different ways. Osiander stresses that, due to sin, Adam and his descendants lost the indwelling of God. At creation, “God himself […] was living in Adam as his temple,” but after the fall, “he withdrew from Adam and forsook him, since Adam turned himself away from God.”98 However, Calvin lays the emphasis elsewhere. After the fall, “he [Adam] lost all the dignity and excellence of his original creation,” and he “had become his [God‟s] special enemy and adversary”99 even though he had been created as God‟s very own child and heir.100 In short, for Osiander the fall left Adam empty of God, but for Calvin it left him an enemy of God. This difference is substantial, not subtle, as their respective views on soteriology reveal.

95

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:479. CO 9:723–724; Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 2:131. 97 For Osiander see Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:480. For Calvin see CO 2:183–184; OS 3:238–239; Calvin, Institutes, 2.1.9. 98 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:479. 99 Calvin, Épître, 25–6. 100 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 57. 96

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6.1.2.3 The Imago Dei as Restored In 1550 Osiander consciously decided to publish his treatise on anthropology, De imagine Dei, within his larger publication on Christology, An filius Dei fuerit incarnandus. As a result his anthropology is intensely Christocentric, as the following citation indicates: And thus, in the end, man was made in the image of God, in his likeness, because the body of Adam was like the body of Christ, the soul of Adam was like the soul of Christ, and God was in Adam through grace just as He is in Christ through nature. Thus in his entirety Adam was a reflection of Christ, and all and as much as he was, [Adam] was in the image and likeness of God.101

Yet this raises a crucial question: what is the primary function of Christ, the eternal Word incarnate? Is he to be a redeemer and restorer or an archetype and exemplar? There is no need to be caught in a false dilemma here. Christ can certainly fulfill both functions. However, in order to discern the difference between Osiander and Calvin, it is helpful to ascertain where each theologian places the emphasis. So far as Nuremberg‟s reformer is concerned, Christ as archetype is essential while Christ as redeemer is optional. This comes out clearly when Osiander insists that the only-begotten Son of God would have taken on human flesh even if humankind never fell into sin.102 Without a doubt, throughout his writing about both the creation and the restoration of the imago Dei, Osiander is constantly referring to Christ, and thus his soteriology is very Christocentric, but at the same time it is not very cruxocentric.103 That is to say, he focuses a lot on the person of Christ but not so much upon his sacrificial work on the cross. The supposition that God would have foreordained Bethlehem even without Golgotha is not unique to Osiander. He points out that others before him have held the same position, such as Alexander of Hales, Duns Scotus, and Pico della Mirandola.104 Nonetheless, Calvin cannot abide such a separation between the person of Christ, on the one hand, and the work of Christ on the other hand. To him the two are inextricable for the simple reason that they are inseparable in the Scriptures themselves. In the second book of his 101

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:477. At the end of An filius Dei Osiander gives no less than ten reasons for the necessity of the incarnation, even if sin had never entered the world. However, first and foremost he argues that if there was no incarnation, then there could have been no creation of human beings, because Adam was created in the image of the yet-to-be incarnate Christ. See Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:481– 91. 103 Also see Manfred K. Bahmann, “Calvin‟s Controversy with Certain „Half-Papists‟,” Hartford Quarterly 5 (1964–1965): 31, who makes the same basic statement when he says, “Osiander empties the cross of Christ.” 104 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:458–9. The name of Meister Eckhardt could also be mentioned as one who felt the incarnation would have happened, even if sin did not. See Arntzen, Mystieke rechtvaardigingsleer, 56. 102

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Institutes, he begins his critique of Osiander by underscoring the need to confine theological inquiry within the boundaries of divine revelation. He warns: For he who is tickled with desire to know something more, not content with God‟s unchangeable ordinance, also shows that he is not even content with this very Christ who was given to us as the price of our redemption.105

Calvin continues by referring to passages like 1 Tim 1:15, “Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” and 1 Cor 2:2, “For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.”106 Furthermore, if, as Osiander argues, the Word incarnate is the archetype after which God created Adam, then Calvin wonders aloud why the Apostle Paul calls Christ the “second Adam” (1 Cor 15:47).107 Logically speaking, in the Osiandrian scheme of things, Christ should be the first Adam and Eve‟s husband should be the second Adam. Yet, as Calvin is quick to point out, the Scriptures testify against such a scheme. Moreover, lest anyone think that these professors of Geneva and Königsberg are merely engaged in a contest to see who is most nimble in assembling proof-texts for his cause, Calvin zeroes in on the heart of the matter in his ecclesiastical advice, Contra Osiandrum. His primary concern is that even though Osiander does not deny the remission of sins through the cross of Christ, in the end, he essentially turns it into “only a sort of inferior appendix.”108 Putting it another way, in spite of all his emphasis on Christus in nobis, Osiander has well nigh forgotten about Christus pro nobis. In addition, where in nobis is accentuated to the extent that pro nobis is obfuscated, there mysticism lies crouching at the door.109 Taking matters a step further, Osiander establishes a strong link between justification and the restoration of the image of God in those who believe in Christ. As he puts it: In other words, it is not enough to forgive or remit and abolish sins, but it is also necessary to restore the glory of God which, prior to our rebirth in Christ, all of us are lacking. However, when the glory of God is restored in us, then also the life of God and the righteousness of God are restored – no more, God himself is restored to us.110

105

CO 2:344; OS 3:442–443; Calvin, Institutes, 2.12.5. CO 2:344; OS 3:442–443; Calvin, Institutes, 2.12.5. 107 CO 2:346; OS 3:444–447; Calvin, Institutes, 2.12.7. 108 CO 10:166; Calvin, Ecclesiastical Advice, 32–3. Calvin expresses similar sentiments in his Institutes. See CO 2:538–539; OS 4:189–190; Calvin, Institutes, 3.11.8. 109 Bente, Historical Introductions, 159. 110 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:478. When Osiander states that remission of sins is not enough and that a restoration of glory is necessary, it is possible that he is reacting, in part, to his own 106

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He substantiates this by referring to two passages. First, he draws his readers‟ attention to Rom 6:13 where the apostle encourages believers to “offer the parts of your body to him as instruments of righteousness.” Next, he turns to Rom 3:23, and the surrounding verses, which speak of receiving the righteousness and glory of God through faith out of grace. Combining those passages in his mind, Osiander comes to the conclusion that the restoration of the image in believers includes the life, the righteousness, and the glory of God, yes, even God himself. Responding to Osiander‟s position, Calvin finds that it contains a haphazard mixture of those blessings that ought rather to be carefully distinguished. The first blessing is justification, in which God freely reckons as righteous those who believe in him, out of grace, for the sake of Christ‟s merits. The second blessing is sanctification, otherwise known as regeneration, in which God progressively renews the image of Christ within those whom he has justified. According to Calvin these two blessings are inseparable, even as “the brightness of the sun cannot be separated from its heat.”111 All the same, even though there is “a mutual and indivisible connection […] reason itself forbids us to transfer the peculiar qualities of the one to the other.”112 Yet this is precisely the sort of confusion that Osiander forces upon his readers.113 Not only is this another case of Königsberg‟s pastor confusing things which should rightly be distinguished, but in so doing he jeopardizes the assurance of salvation for those who come under his teaching. According to Calvin, since the righteousness of which Osiander speaks is not an imputation of righteousness, which resides in Christ (iustitia aliena), but rather God‟s righteousness, which comes to reside in the sinner (iustitia interna), the believer “will hang uncertainly, wavering to this side and to that, for he will not be allowed to assume in himself as much righteousness as he needs for assurance.”114 In short, “whoever wraps up two kinds of righteousness in order that miserable souls may not repose wholly in God‟s mere mercy, crowns Christ in mockery with a wreath of thorns.”115 In other words, when

disappointment over the lack of sanctified living among the citizens in Nuremberg, despite the reformatory efforts that he spearheaded over many years. See Seebass, “The Reformation in Nürnberg,” 33. 111 CO 2:537–538; OS 4:187–188; Calvin, Institutes, 3.11.6. 112 CO 2:537–538; OS 4:187–188; Calvin, Institutes, 3.11.6. 113 In his Contra Osiandrum Calvin makes the same point. “After man was alienated from God, we say that he was restored by righteousness and by sanctification. The former means undeserved reconciliation; the latter means man‟s renewal. In his use of words, Osiander falsely confuses regeneration with righteousness.” CO 10:166; Calvin, Ecclesiastical Advice, 33. 114 CO 2:543; OS 4:192–195; Calvin, Institutes, 3.11.11. 115 CO 2:545; OS 4:195–197; Calvin, Institutes, 3.11.12.

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believers are deprived of the assurance of salvation, ultimately the work of Christ himself is depreciated as well.

6.1.2.4 The Image of God or the Essence of God One of the criticisms against Osiander to which Calvin repeatedly returns is the charge of Manichaeism.116 To be more specific, he believes that Osiander is teaching “an inflowing of substance,” that is to say, the very essence of God flows into human beings so that they become, in some manner, divine or “cosubstantial with God.”117 It goes without saying that this is a serious charge of heresy and one that should never be levelled lightly. Is Calvin correct in this accusation? In order to find an answer to this question two things must be noted. In the first place, Osiander does speak freely and frequently about participating in the divine nature. He is also aware that charges of Manichaeism, or theosis, may be brought to bear on him. Therefore, he purposefully assembles a significant litany of scriptural passages which speak of Christ dwelling in believers.118 He is also careful to say that the indwelling of Christ in the believer is “through faith” and “by the Spirit of the Lord.”119 These qualifications would seem to allay the fears of Calvin who senses that Osiander is forgetting about the work of the Holy Spirit in uniting Christ and the Christian, resorting instead to an infusion of Christ‟s substance.120 Yet, upon closer examination, Calvin‟s worries are not entirely unwarranted, for Osiander will also boldly state that “just as our Lord Jesus Christ by nature is God and man, so also Adam, by nature man, through grace is a partner and partaker of the divine nature.” It would be one thing if he were simply making an allusion to 2 Pet 1:4, where the apostle speaks of participating in the divine nature. However, it is Osiander‟s tight comparison between Christ and Adam which raises a red flag. Christ is God, essentially and eternally. Therefore, following through with the comparison, is Osiander saying that Adam was also divine, and that believers can become divine, albeit through grace rather than by nature? That is the next thing that needs to be considered. In the second place, Osiander is conscious of the fact that if he pushes too far with his language of participation in the divine nature, then he will 116 CO 2:140, 536; OS 3:181–182, 4:185–186; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5, 3.11.5. Also see CO 10:166; Calvin, Ecclesiastical Advice, 33. 117 CO 2:140; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5. 118 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:477. 119 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:477. 120 CO 2:140; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5.

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transgress the ontological boundary between Creator and creature. Thus, he writes: For it is perfectly obvious that there is nothing belonging to man which is similar to the infinite essence of the Word of God. There simply is, and remains, an infinite dissimilarity between man and the Word of God.121

Again, this would seem to settle the case and prove Calvin wrong when he accuses Osiander of mingling heaven and earth.122 Nonetheless, a closer look indicates that the matter is not as clear as the first glance would suggest. Osiander asserts, with equal fervour, that “God was in Adam through grace just as He is in Christ through nature.”123 This same degree of divine indwelling is also true for those who believe in Christ. Oddly, what was previously an infinite dissimilarity has now suddenly become an unqualified similarity. God dwells in Adam to the same extent that he dwells in Christ. The only difference is the manner in which the indwelling has occurred. In Christ, the indwelling is by nature; in Adam, it is by grace. Therefore, Calvin‟s apprehension is not without merit.124 For one of two things must be true: either Osiander is promoting the believer to become a quasi-Christ or he is demoting the Christ to become one who has God dwelling within him, but who is not substantially and essentially God himself.125 Either way, Calvin‟s evaluation is not so far off the mark. He concludes that while Osiander “is burning to show his cleverness,” the net result is that “he has corrupted the genuine and simple teaching of piety.”126

6.1.3 Summary In the final analysis, what should be said concerning Andreas Osiander, the reformer of Nuremberg and, thereafter, the professor of Königsberg? Was it the case that despite his idiosyncrasies he was, for the most part, simply

121

Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:472. CO 2:136–137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 123 Osiander, Gesamtausgabe, 9:477; emphasis mine, Lat. sicut. 124 Calvin is not the only one who has noted Osiander‟s tendency to blur the line between Creator and creature and thus dabble with deification or theosis. See Arntzen, Mystieke rechtvaardigingsleer, 49; Faber, J., “Imago Dei in Calvin,” 234; Niesel, Theology of Calvin, 187–8. 125 Also see Canlis, “Calvin, Osiander and Participation,” 177, who argues that Osiander went too far in speaking about a union with God that bordered on being an ontological fusion. Canlis further explains that although Calvin also stressed union with Christ, he did this in a different manner. “Whereas Osiander worked in substantial categories, Calvin worked in Spirit-categories, „not by an inflowing of substance, but by the grace and power of the Spirit […] who surely works in us without rendering us consubstantial with God.‟” 126 CO 10:165; Calvin, Ecclesiastical Advice, 32. 122

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following in the footsteps of Augustine?127 Or should the conclusion be that even though Osiander started off by leading the citizens of Nuremberg away from Rome, he himself ironically ended up returning at least half-way to Rome?128 Or did Calvin misinterpret Osiander‟s writings altogether, possibly because he was reading them through the smudged lens of a serious clash of personalities at the Colloquy of Worms 1540/41?129 Given the fact that Osiander started in the same line as Luther,130 and given the fact that Calvin strove passionately to avoid Protestant infighting,131 it is noteworthy that the Genevan reformer rejects this German theologian in such unequivocal terms. He does so not only in his Institutes, as explained above, but even publicly from his pulpit in St. Pierre as late as 1559,132 a full seven years after Osiander himself had died. Obviously, in Calvin‟s estimation, Osiander was not merely a colleague with a penchant for hyperbole, but a heretic in need of repudiation. Indeed, he once confided to Melanchthon, “I always ranked him [Osiander] amongst the number of those who were a disgrace to us.”133 Judging from Calvin‟s writings, there were at least three major points at which the Königsberger crossed over the border line from orthodoxy into heresy. 1. Osiander was prone to mix things that ought to be distinguished. He extended the image of God indiscriminately to both body and soul, with the result that Adam was created in the physical likeness of the pre-incarnate Christ. Such a position is not merely a novel way of looking at the imago Dei. As Calvin points out, in the end it turns Christ into an image of himself. In addition, Osiander confuses the twin graces of God: justification and sanctification. As a result, believers are short-changed of their assurance of salvation. Furthermore, Osiander fails to consistently draw a line of demarcation between Creator and creature. His dabbling with the language of deification leaves him open to the charge of Manichaeism.

Wilson-Kastner, “Theology of Grace,” 89–91. Bahmann, “Half-Papists,” 37–8. 129 Zimmerman, “Calvins Auseinandersetzung,” 256. Zimmerman does not connect Calvin‟s reading of Osiander‟s treatises to their first personal meeting in Worms, but he does conclude that Calvin‟s “critical objections either do not touch Osiander‟s conception or are not incompatible with the thought of the Nuremberg reformer.” 130 Evidence of his initial orthodoxy is found, for instance, in the wide acclaim given to his Catechism sermons. See note 9 above. 131 For example, in his defence against Pighius, Calvin argues that it is highly unreasonable to expect that there would never be any minor differences of expression or phraseology among the leaders of the Reformation. See CO 6:250–251; Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 28–9. 132 Max Engammare, “Le Paradis à Genève. Comment Calvin prêchait-il la chute aux Genevois?” Études Théologiques et Religieuses 69 (1994): 342. 133 CO 14:416; Calvin, Letters, 2:378–9. 127 128

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2. As Stupperich has noted, Osiander‟s entire theological system is affected by his doctrine of the image of God.134 Yet it is precisely in his anthropology that this theologian makes a fundamental error. For him, the essence of the image is the indwelling of God in Adam, and consequently, the loss of the image is the departure of God from the temple of Adam‟s body. Yet according to Calvin this does not do justice to either the definition or the deformation of the image. By creating Adam and Eve in his own image, God established them as the noblest example in all creation of his justice, wisdom, and goodness. More than that, they were created as children of God the heavenly Father. Thus, when they fell into sin, the first parents of the human race were not merely emptied of God; the dear children of God turned and became direct enemies of God. 3. Osiander‟s mistaken anthropology also has a serious impact upon his soteriology. He repeatedly stresses the role of Christ, the Word incarnate, as the archetype after which Adam was originally created. However, as Calvin points out, in the process he ignores, or at least devalues, the very purpose for which the Word did become incarnate, namely, to offer himself as a sacrifice for sins upon the cross of Golgotha. The centrality of the cross is the sine qua non of sound doctrine for Calvin. Yet, all things considered, the cross tends to become a non-essential appendix in Osiander‟s system. Accordingly, that system “crowns Christ in mockery with a wreath of thorns.”135 Ironically, Osiander ended up mocking the very Person whom he was so eager to magnify: Christ, the incarnate Word. At least, that is how Calvin saw the situation, and he could not tolerate such a denigration of the atoning work of Christ. Hence, he felt compelled to renounce it.

6.2 Michael Servetus In Calvin‟s mind Andreas Osiander and Michael Servetus had much in common when it came to their teachings about the human nature. As Calvin is in the midst of refuting Osiander‟s position on the imago Dei, he suddenly alludes to Servetus who, in his opinion, has a similar, although slightly more coherent, understanding of the doctrine.136 Likewise, when he is disproving Servetus‟ view that the human soul derives its substance from the very breath of God, Calvin asserts that Osiander has entangled himself 134

Stupperich, Osiander in Preussen, 107. CO 2:545; OS 4:195–197; Calvin, Institutes, 3.11.12. 136 CO 2:137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 135

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in a nearly identical error.137 Thus, lest a lacuna be left unfilled, attention should be given, not only to the pastor and professor of Königsberg, but also to the editor and medical doctor of Lyons. As soon as the name of Michael Servetus is mentioned, most people think either of the man who was among the first to discover the circulatory system or of the man who was burned at the stake in Geneva. Some will connect this name with an individual who rejected the orthodox confession of the Triune God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Few, however, would associate his name with a full-scale plan to overhaul the Christian faith, and even fewer would surmise that his blueprint revolved around his belief that men, women, and children are essentially divine, albeit in their own human sort of way.138 Yet, nothing less than a whole renovation of theology and piety is what Servetus was striving after, as the full title of his final book indicates: The Restoration of Christianity. The whole Apostolic Church is summoned to return to its origin to restore the complete knowledge of God, of the faith of Christ, of our justification, of the regeneration by baptism and of the participation in the Lord‟s supper. And finally to restore to us the heavenly kingdom, to end the wicked captivity of Babylon, and to destroy the Antichrist with his host.139 So, who was this self-proclaimed restorer of Christianity? A few biographical notes may help to set the scene. Servetus was born circa 1511 in Villanueva, Spain, a village that was not far from the border with France.140 Early on his family, and others, recognized that he had a quick mind which was particularly adept at learning new languages. Thus, at the young age of fourteen, he came into the service of Juan de Quintana, a member of the Cortès d‟Aragon and a professor at the liberal arts school in Zaragoza. Quintana exposed Servetus to some of the new currents of Renaissance thought, as well as securing an opportunity 137

CO 2:140; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5. See Jerome Friedman, “Michael Servetus: The Theology of Optimism” (Doctoral Thesis, University Microfilms, 1971), 4–5, who highlights the anthropological focal point of Servetus‟ theology when he writes, “The final result was not a simple attack on the orthodox conception of divine persons, but a variant Christianity not predicated on salvation and redemption, but on deification through a neoplatonic understanding of man‟s essential divinity.” 139 Michael Servetus, The Restoration of Christianity, trans. Christopher A. Hoffman and Marian Hillar (1553; reprint, Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2007). The Latin text can be found in Michael Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio (Vienne: B. Arnollat, 1553; reprint, Frankfurt: Minerva, 1966). 140 The details of this biographical survey have been gathered from Roland H Bainton, Hunted Heretic: The Life and Death of Michael Servetus 1511–1553 (Beacon Press, 1953; reprint, Gloucester: Peter Smith, 1978); Jerome Friedman, “Michael Servetus: Advocate of Total Heresy,” in Profiles of Radical Reformers: Biographical Sketches From Thomas Müntzer to Paracelsus, ed. Hans-Jürgen Goertz and Walter Klaassen (Kitchener: Herald Press, 1982); Marian Hillar and S. Allen Claire, Michael Servetus: Intellectual Giant, Humanist, and Martyr (Lanham: University Press of America, 2002). 138

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for him to study law at the University of Toulouse. However, the young Spaniard‟s legal studies were interrupted when his mentor, Quintana, was summoned to become the confessor for no one less than Emperor Charles V. In February of 1530, Charles V was crowned by Pope Clement VII in Bologna. The ceremony was saturated with imperial pomp and papal pageantry. Due to his connection with Quintana, Servetus was in attendance, and the coronation likely had a more life-altering impact on him than it did on the Emperor himself. Thoroughly disgusted by the ostentatious superficiality of the pope‟s conduct, Servetus declared that Clement VII was the “vilest of all beasts, most brazen of harlots!” 141 From that point onward, he was convinced that the Christian faith was in dire need of repair. Seeking guidance as to how Christianity could best be mended, Servetus went in search of Erasmus in Freiburg. Since the celebrated humanist was no longer there, the itinerant Spaniard traveled on to Basel where Johannes Oecolampadius took him in, providing him with room and board for almost a year. During that year, Servetus had adequate time to study both Scripture and the church fathers. However, his studies resulted in a thesis to which neither Oecolampadius nor the other reformers in the area could agree. He concluded that in the age to come, “we shall need no advocate nor reconciler” and “thus the dispensation of the Trinity will then cease.”142 With the publication of his De Trinitatis erroribus (1531) Servetus crossed a doctrinal Rubicon. Oecolampadius wrote to him, “I will be patient in other matters but when Christ is blasphemed, No!”143 Shortly thereafter, the precocious youth from Villanueva was branded a heretic worthy of death, not only by leaders of the reformation, but also by both the Spanish and French Inquisitions. Consequently, Servetus became a man on the run, seeking refuge wherever he could find it. Eventually, he ended up in Paris, hiding beneath a pseudonym, “Michel de Villeneuve.” This camouflage proved sufficient for him to begin studying and, in due time, practising medicine, a profession at which he proved to be quite competent. Several years later, in 1534, he moved to Lyons where he also took up employment as an editor at the distinguished publishing house of Trechsel. From there he authored several books on medical topics. Yet all the while he was stoking the fire of his soul‟s foremost passion, the grand renewal of all Christendom. For the next two decades, Servetus worked methodically on his magnum opus, the 141

Bainton, Hunted Heretic, 20. Michael Servetus, The Two Treatises of Servetus on the Trinity, trans. Earl Morse Wilbur (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1932), 126. 143 Bainton, Hunted Heretic, 52. 142

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Christianismi restitutio. Along the way, after moving a short distance to Vienne, he took up correspondence with John Calvin, using an intermediary named Jean Frellon. He even sent him a draft copy of the Restitutio. Calvin swiftly came to the same judgment that both Oecolampadius and the Inquisition had rendered previously: this Spaniard‟s views were so thoroughly heterodox that, for the honour of the Lord and the sake of his Church, such teachings needed to be stamped out by death. Although he knew of Calvin‟s staunch disapproval and the Inquisition‟s pending punishment, for some unclear reason Servetus stopped over in Geneva while he was fleeing from Vienne and en route to Italy. There he was arrested in short order. The court trial dragged on for some weeks, yet on 26 October 1553, the council of Geneva officially sentenced him to die upon the hill of Champel. The very next day he, together with his Restitutio, was burned at the stake. Our present purpose is not to analyze the circumstances surrounding the trial and death of Servetus. Neither is it our aim to examine Calvin‟s involvement in the legal proceedings of that particular court case. Such studies can be found elsewhere.144 Rather, the present goal is to focus primarily on publications, not personalities. First, turning to the Restitutio, an overview will be offered, highlighting Servetus‟ understanding of humanitas and the imago Dei. Next, Calvin‟s reaction to the Restitutio will be outlined, focussing upon the final edition of his Institutes, as well as his Defensio orthodoxae fidei, which was written against Servetus in 1554.

6.2.1 Christianismi restitutio (1553) The Restitutio is an intricate and complex document comprised of five books or chapters. Servetus draws his ideas from a wide range of books, including the Bible, the Koran, the rabbinical writings, the church fathers, Philo, Plato, and Hermes Trismegistus, as well as many others. At times this assorted anthology of sources causes Servetus‟ discourse to become somewhat disjointed. Nevertheless, the broad lines of his theological convictions are clear enough.

144 A recent and noteworthy examination of Servetus‟ life and death, including his trail in Geneva, is Hillar, Michael Servetus. A more specific study of Calvin‟s involvement in the trial can be found in Eun Sung Ra, John Calvin‟s Role in the Trial of Michael Servetus (Deerfield: Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, 1999).

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6.2.1.1 Light and Sight Already in his prologue, Servetus informs his readers that the journey leading toward Christianity‟s restoration is one that is walked by sight. In his own words, he says: God was previously not visible, but now we shall see Him with His face unveiled, and, so long as we open the gate and step upon the road, we shall gaze upon Him as He shines in ourselves. It is time that we open that gate and this path of light. For without it nothing can be seen, without it none can read the holy scriptures or perceive God or become a Christian. This is the path of truth.145

It is striking that he directs his audience to gaze upon God by looking to themselves or, stating it more precisely, to the manner in which “He shines in ourselves.” Evidently the Servetian road to theophany runs straight through the intersection of introspection. It is even more remarkable that this phenomenon of God-shining-in-us becomes the gateway to a proper understanding of the Bible. Thus, for Servetus, seeing becomes a prerequisite for proper hearing; sight even precedes Scripture. However, it would be rash to judge a book by its preface, and therefore the main body of the Restitutio certainly merits consideration. Here again the twin theme of sight and light prevails. At one point he writes: By forming light God wanted there to be in the light the form and ability to form other things. Therefore, if everything exists through the light, and the light is that which gives existence to a thing, the light is the form of the thing […]. Wherefore, you would again conclude that form exists from light. Not only forms and existence of things are from light, but so are souls and spirit because light is the life of men and the life of the spirit.146

In other words, light is not just one thing among many which God created in the beginning. Instead, light holds the privileged position of being the primeval fountainhead from which all other things, including the human soul, flow. Servetus‟ next step is to connect this light with Christ, who is the Word and in whom the life and light of all humankind exists.147 From there, it is but a small stride in the Spaniard‟s mind to conclude that Christ, who is the light, “causes everything to generate and germinate,” thereby imparting life

145

Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 3–4; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 2. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 151; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 214. 147 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 146; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 208. At this point Servetus is alluding to John 1:4, 9. 146

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to all things.148 This seed of light by which Christ causes everything to germinate is not merely conceptual or spiritual; it is “substantive.”149 The natural affinity between sight and light leads Servetus to the foundation of his concept of image, for which he duly gives credit to Plato. He explains it in the following fashion: To the extent that everything exists in light, the physical and the spiritual, so all things are seen outwardly in light, and in the light of the intellect all things are internally conceived. This is also true regarding the created light according to his own relationship and secondary nature. Hence, it was nicely said by Plato in Timaeus that the notions themselves or the intellectual concepts of the mind have a certain natural affinity with the things themselves which they express. Indeed, it is an affinity based on the light therefore, he teaches that the forms of things exist from the light. This is the mechanism of natural affinity and natural image.150

This idea that the forms of all things can be traced back to light is not only Platonic, it is also found in the Hermetic writings, especially the words of Hermes Trismegistus, an author of whom Servetus was particularly fond.151 Ironically, this emphasis on light and sight becomes so intense that at one point the theologian from Vienne asserts that, after pursuing the whole matter with unrelenting logic, one must conclude that physical bodies actually do not exist at all! The only thing that truly exists is a world of visible, but incorporeal, images.152 Thus Adam, who is created in the image of God, becomes one very special image floating in a vast sea of images. Moreover, since all of these images trace their origin back to the light which comes from God in Christ, no object or person is truly distinct from God. Rather “all individual beings exist in the very form of the light in which they shine back, being always present for God and within Him.”153

148

Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 146; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 208–9. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 146; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 209. Lat. substantiale. 150 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 146–7; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 209. 151 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 144; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 206. It may well have been Symphorien Champier, a scholar in Lyon, who exposed Servetus to the Hermetica, as well as a broader assortment of neoplatonic literature. See Brian P. Copenhaver, Symphorien Champier and the Reception of the Occultist Tradition in Renaissance France (The Hague: Mouton Publishers, 1978), 78–9, 117–23; Friedman, “Advocate of Total Heresy,” 253–4. 152 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 148; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 210–1. 153 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 149; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 212; emphasis mine. 149

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6.2.1.2 Adam Created with a Wisp of God in Him The above quotation about all creatures existing within God raises the question of how Servetus sees the distinction, or lack thereof, between divinity and humanity. The answer to this question is complicated by the fact that the author of the Restitutio has a multifaceted understanding of divinitas. His atypical view comes out in the first chapter of his treatise where he sets forth three propositions: the first is that Jesus is the Christ; the second is that Jesus Christ is the son of God; and the third is that Jesus Christ is God. Anyone familiar with Servetus‟ theology might be startled by his final proposition. After all, here is the man who exclaimed, “Truly all trinitarians are atheists!”154 So how can he simultaneously affirm that Jesus Christ is God? According to Servetus, the answer is that divinity manifests itself in many different forms. For example, Jesus Christ is “the form of God, the appearance of God, and he has the power and nature of God,” 155 and yet he is not God per se; that is to say, he is not of one essence with the heavenly Father. At first the Servetian outlook on divinity may sound like little more than a game of semantic charades. However, it is much more than that. It is a carefully constructed worldview which he seeks to inculcate in all who care to listen. Ultimately, for him, everything is divine in some way and yet God himself remains eternally the same. He expounds upon his own conundrum as follows: The addition of Divinity to individual things or the addition of things in God Himself does not change its name: Divinity in a stone is stone, in gold it is gold, in wood, wood, in accordance with its own forms. Again in a superior way, Divinity in man is man; in the spirit is spirit: just as the addition of man in God is God, and the addition of man‟s spirit in Him is the Holy Spirit.156

Still, human beings are divine in a way that supersedes the stones because in the beginning God created Adam by breathing a soul into his nostrils. Along with that original inhalation on the sixth day, Adam also drew within himself “a wisp of the spirit of the divine mind,”157 thus acquiring “an inborn luminescence of divinity.”158 Moreover, God did not intend this to be a one-time event. Instead, it is an ongoing process. To Servetus‟ way of thinking, divine breath exists everywhere in the atmosphere, and it enters the human soul through the physiological functions of breathing and trans-

154

Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 31; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 44. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 15; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 20. 156 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 182; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 261. 157 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 180; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 258. 158 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 168; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 238. 155

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ferring oxygen into the blood via the lungs.159 Thus, even after Adam‟s sin, as long as someone keeps on inhaling from the atmosphere, that person can retain the spirit of divinity within his soul.160

6.2.1.3 Adam Created in the Image of Christ At the same time, even though God exhaled that special wisp of divinity into Adam‟s soul, the first father of the human race had already received the imago Dei, at least in part, when his body was fashioned from the dust of the earth. Servetus describes the event with these words: Adam‟s body was formed in the image of God before the soul was added; therefore, it was the image of a body. Man, and afterwards woman, was first shaped according to the face, in the image of God, Paul teaches when speaking about the image of the face (Cor. 11) [sic]. The image and likeness at the first creation of man in the image of God contained the image and likeness of the soul and body. Although, in a moral sense the first man is called the image and likeness of God in his innocence and justice; although, likewise the soul in the manner of God is a certain mentality with understanding, nevertheless, in the fashioning of man, as the meaning of the words clearly shows, ‫צלם‬, zelem (image) and ‫דמות‬, demuth (likeness, similitude) is the image of the whole man and the visible figure. All the more so because Christ himself is said to be entirely the copy of God and the figure.161

Thus, Servetus does not deny some of the more traditional definitions of the image. In fact, he acknowledges that in the state of innocence, God created an attributive similarity between his own justice and Adam‟s sense of justice. Servetus was also willing to accept that Adam‟s intellectual abilities somehow reflected the cognitive capacity of God himself. Yet for the author of the Restitutio these things do not touch the essence of the image. Instead, he wants to strike a more Christocentric tone. Christ, with his own body and soul, is the image and copy of God, and therefore, “through the true form and figure of Christ, which was in God, man was likened unto God even physically so that even the body of a dead man is called the image of God.”162 That a stiff and lifeless corpse could somehow reflect the likeness of the living and splendorous God may be a bridge too far for some. Nonetheless, given his Christocentric focus, Servetus sees no obstacle here. After all, Christ also lay dead in the grave for three days. Thus, since humans are created in the image of Christ the Incarnate, corpses can also reflect the likeness of this Christ whose dead body was laid in 159

Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 169–74; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 239–49. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 168; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 238. See also Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 226; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 323. 161 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 103; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 146. 162 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 104; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 147. 160

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Joseph of Arimathea‟s sepulchre. As a result, Servetus sums up his understanding of the imago Dei in this way: In his book On Agriculture, Philo as well said that the soul of man was made and figured in the form and image of the first model, the Word […]. He said that the expression was old, that the divinity very often appeared in human form, which made man even after his own image. There according to the model, the form, the figure, and the image of Christ, Adam was made in terms of body and soul.163

At the same time, Servetus takes this Philonic view of the image and elevates it to even loftier Platonic heights when he adds that the Logos was “the pantomorphous cosmos.”164 This means that Christ holds within himself the forms of all beings, great and small, visible and invisible. Furthermore, even as Christ himself is the self-contained cosmos of all forms, so God also created human beings to be a microcosm of the majestic megacosmos. In this way, “the single exemplar of man contained all things just as all things are in Christ.”165 In the Servetian scheme of things, this microcosmic nature of humanity is what truly sets it apart from the rest of creation.166

6.2.1.4 Regeneration, a new breath of divinity Although Servetus acknowledges that Adam and Eve sinned in paradise, he rejects the notion that this original sin corrupts the human nature for all generations to come. On the contrary, each new baby starts, more or less, where Adam and Eve started. He writes, “As in the case of Adam, there was no sin before his transgression, so in us truly, no sin exists before we transgress.”167 Beyond that, according to Servetus, no one sins in a serious, or mortal, fashion until the age of twenty, since that is the age at which a person is sufficiently mature to distinguish correctly between good and evil. 168 Thus, if human nature is left virtually untouched by the power of sin until adulthood, the question looms large: is there still a real need for the redemption of Christ and the regeneration of the Spirit in order to restore the image of God post lapsum? In the first place, it must be said that the fall did have one dramatic effect. Servetus maintains that, due to Adam and Eve‟s sin, God withdrew from them and their descendants. He concealed himself so that the populace 163

Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 104; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 147–8. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 138; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 196. 165 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 142; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 203. 166 Adolphe Chauvet, Étude sur le Système Théologique de Servet (Strasbourg: FrédéricCharles Heitz, 1867), 25. 167 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 365; Friedman, Theology of Optimism, 68. 168 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 363–4; Friedman, Theology of Optimism, 69. 164

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of this earth is, by nature, walking around in darkness.169 Consequently, it is illumination rather than expiation that is most needful, and Christ is the Illustrious Illuminator for he is the light of the world.170 Hence the Servetian concept of redemption has everything to do with the unveiling of God‟s light, but comparatively little to do with the sacrifice of God‟s Son. Indeed, this is precisely the salvific agenda which he set forth in his prologue. He promised to unveil the face of God and lead his readers down the path of truth which “places God himself before our very eyes.”171 At the same time, salvation is not restricted to illumination. Servetus speaks of a regeneration which brings something new to those who are in Christ by faith. He states that “the holy spirit of regeneration is together with the renewed elements of Christ, a new breath of the Divinity.”172 As noted earlier, by the simple act of breathing any sinner can retain the divine spirit within his soul.173 Still, in Servetus‟ estimation, divinity is multifarious, and through the regenerating spirit of Christ the sinner can receive, as it were, a more distinguished level of divinity. Sensing that some may object to this language of divinization, the author of the Restitutio immediately seeks to reassure his readers that this does not mean that they are able to partake of the very essence of God. He qualifies himself saying: This is not to say, as you may fear, that our soul and the Holy Spirit of Christ are conjoined in essence and have an elemental substance of this sort just as the Word has the flesh joined to itself. Our soul‟s fire and our spirit‟s fire depend inseparably on that substance, and they are warmed and nourished by it just as we see that fire is warmed and nourished by fuel and air. And, just as a fire dies out when those elements fail, so the soul within us dies out, so to speak, because it has been deprived of vital activities.174

In short, God‟s divinity always includes his aseity, while human divinity remains dependant and derived. Yet, despite this disclaimer, the extent to which Servetus employs regeneration to raise humanitas up into divinitas should not be underestimated. The man who denied the church‟s teaching concerning the Trinity also boldly asserted the following concerning divinity:

169

Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 106; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 151. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 144–5; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 206. 171 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 4; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 2. 172 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 181; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 260; emphasis mine. 173 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 168; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 238. 174 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 181; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 260. 170

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Regeneration is different from generation just as the spirit of grace is different from the soul that is born within. That spirit is God; the soul is not God, yet the soul is made God through this [i.e. regeneration].175

Evidently Servetus was striving to promote not merely the restoration of Christianity but ultimately the deification of Christians. 6.2.2 Calvin‟s Refutation of Servetus In 1546 Servetus initiated correspondence with Calvin, seeking the reformer‟s response to his queries about the deity of Christ, the process of regeneration, and the necessity of baptism.176 Calvin replied succinctly yet irenically, although he was careful to use his own pseudonym, Charles d‟Espeville, knowing full well that he was writing a letter to a man who had been at the top of the Inquisition‟s most wanted list for more than a decade already.177 At first Calvin was willing to correspond since, as he said some years later, he hoped “to gain him [Servetus] for our Lord, even to the point of risking my own life.”178 However, he soon wearied of Servetus‟ arrogant and argumentative style. On 13 February 1546, he wrote to Jean Frellon, the epistolary intermediary, and said, “If he persists in the same style as he has now done, you will lose time in asking me to bestow labour upon him, for I have other affairs which press upon me more closely.”179 Nevertheless, though Calvin flagged in his zeal to deal with Servetus‟ demeanour, he did not tire of refuting the Spaniard‟s unorthodox teachings. In the final edition of the Institutes he exposes the errors of Servetus no less than eight separate times.180 In addition to those eight occasions, Calvin refers to him indirectly in 1.15.3. He is busy countering Osiander‟s contention that Adam was created in the likeness of the incarnate Christ. Shortly thereafter, he alludes to Servetus, and surprisingly, he credits him with having a more cogent understanding of the image than Osiander does. He says, “There is more color to the cleverness of those who explain that Adam was created in God‟s image because he conformed to Christ, who is the sole 175

Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 181; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 259. CO 8:482. 177 Bainton, Hunted Heretic, 73. 178 CO 8:460; Hillar, Michael Servetus, 183. 179 CO 12:281–282; Calvin, Letters, 2:31. 180 The passages against Servetus in the 1559 Institutes are as follows: 1.13.10 (the deity of Christ); 1.13.22 (the Trinity); 1.15.5 (the emanation of the soul); 2.9.3 (the lack of distinction between sanctification and glorification); 2.10.1 (the relationship of OT and NT); 2.14.5–8 (the two natures of Christ); 4.16.31 (infant baptism) and 4.17.29–30 (the presence of Christ‟s body and Lord‟s Supper). 176

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image of God; but in that, also, there is nothing sound.”181 Apparently, Calvin objects most strenuously to Osiander‟s emphasis of Christ‟s incarnate body being the exemplar of Adam‟s created body. For this reason, if forced to choose between the lesser of two evils, Calvin would prefer Servetus‟ suggestion that Christ, as the image of God, is the exemplar for Adam, without laying any particular stress on Christ‟s physical body. Nonetheless, in the final analysis, Calvin declares that both theologians have made the same fundamental mistake. They have made Adam the Second Christ instead of confessing Christ as the Second Adam, thereby wilfully inverting the order presented by the Apostle Paul in 1 Cor 15:45. Subsequently, the author of the Institutes attacks the writer of the Restitutio for promulgating the heresy of Mani under the guise of restoring the kingdom of Christ. Mani, a third century prophet from Persia, taught that “the soul is simply that divine substance which has become enmeshed with darkness and evil.”182 Accordingly, the soul is not so much a creation of God as it is an emanation from God. Moreover, it is precisely this sort of Manichaeism that Calvin finds repeatedly throughout the Restitutio. He objects to this doctrine of emanation on three counts. First of all, “if man‟s soul be from the essence of God through derivation, it will follow that God‟s nature is subject not only to change and passions, but also to ignorance, wicked desires, infirmity and all manner of vices.”183 To be sure, Servetus would defend himself by asserting that the emanation of the soul from God does not change God himself.184 Nevertheless, to Calvin‟s credit, he makes a valid point. It is difficult, if not impossible, to maintain both propositions – that mutable human beings are divine and that the divine is still immutable – without involving oneself in an outright contradiction. Second, although the Apostle Paul describes the human race as the offspring of God (Acts 17:28), Calvin desires to draw a different conclusion from that verse than Servetus does. For Servetus this means that the divine spirit, like a seed, has germinated within the human soul. For Calvin, “indeed, Paul truly quotes Aratus that we are God‟s offspring, but in quality, not in essence, inasmuch as he, indeed, adorned us with divine gifts.”185 Thus, here is a fundamental difference between Servetus‟ view of the imago Dei and Calvin‟s perspective. The former surmises that the divine-human similitude comes from the implanting of the divine spirit within humanity, 181

CO 2:137; OS 3:176–179; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. Jason BeDuhn, “The Metabolism of Salvation: Manichaean Concepts of Human Physiology,” in The Light and the Darkness: Studies in Manichaeism, ed. Paul Mirecki and Jason BeDuhn (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2001), 9. 183 CO 2:139; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5. 184 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 182; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 261. 185 CO 2:140; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5. 182

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whereas the latter sees it as a result of the divine gifts which were endowed to Adam and Eve. In the third place, Calvin finds it repugnant that Servetus would even suggest that the divine nature is somehow distributed into every creature. As he says, “to tear apart the essence of the Creator so that everyone may possess a part of it is utter folly.”186 Again, Servetus himself would undoubtedly protest that he never used such violent diction as “tearing apart” God. At the same time, it was his very own quill which drafted phrases about the divinity of stones, wood, and gold.187 Thus, Calvin‟s denunciation is not without merit. In addition to the criticisms of Servetus, which he sprinkled throughout his Institutes, Calvin also wrote a lengthy treatise entirely dedicated to the refutation of the Restitutio. It appeared in 1554 under the title, Defensio orthodoxae fidei de sacra trinitate contra prodigiosos errors Michaelis Serveti Hispani.188 As the title indicates, the main point of this treatise is to defend the orthodox faith concerning the Holy Trinity against the errors of Servetus. However, it also contains a few brief repudiations of the Spaniard‟s teaching on the imago Dei. These comments crystallize two of Calvin‟s main concerns. First, when Servetus wonders aloud why Calvin is hesitant to speak of Christ as the image of God, Geneva‟s pastor replies: For none of us is so foolish as to claim that Christ was not the eternal image of God. To the contrary, we assert the image which lay hidden in God shone forth in man. However, for Servetus no image exists unless it can be seen.189

A little later, he reiterates essentially the same objection when he declares, “For Servetus there is no likeness of God unless it is in bodily forms.”190 To be sure, Servetus could also speak of the moral and mental aspects of the image,191 yet Calvin puts his finger on the core of Servetus‟ teaching concerning the image of God. Indeed, he identifies the substratum of Servetus‟ theological system. The road of the Restitutio is a path permeated with visio. The reformers laboured so that the voice of God would be heard in their sermons. Servetus toiled so that the vision of God would be unveiled from the shadows. In his Defensio Calvin also emphasizes that the imago Dei does not include inhaling the divine nature, but rather receiving an endowment of divine gifts. He phrases the crucial distinction in this way: 186

CO 2:140; OS 3:181–182; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.5. Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 182; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 261. 188 CO 8:453–644. 189 CO 8:531; translation mine. 190 CO 8:582; translation mine. 191 Servetus, Christianismi Restitutio, 103; Servetus, Restoration of Christianity, 146. 187

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But none of the prophets, none of the apostles or martyrs ever mentions this “breathing of the deity.” We know, indeed, that the soul of man was endowed with heavenly gifts, which reflect the glory and image of God. And, indeed, we confess freely that these gifts are divine. But that fictitious deity which Servetus claims is exhaled by the breath of God is not at all connected to the outpouring of God‟s grace.192

Moreover, as Calvin argues from the pulpit of St. Pierre, this inhalation of divinity is not only fictitious, it is blasphemous. Not long after Servetus had been executed, Calvin happened to be preaching from Job 27:3, a verse in which the man from Uz speaks about having the breath of God in his nostrils. Lest anyone in his congregation confuse the poetry of Job with the heresy of Servetus, Calvin declares: It is true that when Job speaks here of God‟s spirit, we must not fantasize as the fanatical sort do, who think that the very substance of God‟s spirit is in them. For there is no more abominable heresy than that […]. The unhappy heretic that was punished here had the conceit to say that men‟s souls were partakers of the substance of the Godhead. But that is a horrific thing which goes against nature itself.193

6.2.3 Summary In 1530, when he was about twenty years old, Michael Servetus attended the coronation of Emperor Charles V by Pope Clement VII. He was so repulsed by the profusion of decadence displayed and indulgences advertised that he committed himself – right then and there – to reform Christian piety and theology. In 1553, some three decades later, he finally published his call to reform, his magnum opus, Christianismi restitutio. Somewhere along the way, though, the aim of his mission was altered. Perhaps Servetus himself was not entirely aware of just how far he wandered from his original goal. Be that as it may, the final result is clear enough. Thoroughly imbued with the teachings of Philo, Plato, and Hermes Tresmegistus, Servetus ended up promoting, not a restoration of Christianity, but a deviation from Christianity.194 At the heart of this deviation lies Servetus‟ view of the image of God. For him, human beings were not merely created in the similitude of God, but they were actually made from the very substance of God himself. Calvin detected this doctrine of deification hiding under the camouflage of Servetus‟ teaching on the imago Dei. He also wholeheartedly rejected it. 192

CO 8:549; translation mine. CO 34:454; Calvin, Sermons on Job, 458.a.40-b.10. I have updated Golding‟s translation into more modern English. 194 Friedman, Theology of Optimism, 4–5. 193

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6.3 Conclusions Geographically and biographically speaking, Andreas Osiander and Michael Servetus lived and worked in vastly different circles and circumstances. Now that some of their respective writings have been scrutinized, it is evident that, theologically speaking, there is more that unites them than divides them. The following conclusions can be distilled from the analysis above. 1. Osiander and Servetus both drank deeply from a wide and eclectic collection of theological and philosophical wells. To be sure, they turned to Scripture and the church fathers, but their favourite founts of inspiration also ranged as far as the Cabala and even the Hermetica. In this regard, they took a similar approach to some Renaissance humanists who did not restrict the dictum of ad fontes to distinctly Christian sources but instead extended that axiom to whichever ancient writing they could acquire. 2. Both theologians developed a noticeably visual and corporeal understanding of the imago Dei. In part, this was due to their exegesis of the Hebrew word for image, ṣelem, which they connected to the carved images of wood and stone found in pagan temples. At the same time, particularly for Servetus, this had much to do with the neo-platonic bedrock that rested just below the surface of his theological system. Although Calvin acknowledges that the human body belongs to the image of God in some measure, he maintains that the seat of the image is in the soul. The likeness which God established between himself and human beings is one of spiritual qualities, such as wisdom, justice, and goodness. Once the seat of God‟s image shifts away from the soul and rests predominantly in the body, the definition of the image also changes. 3. Consequently, it comes as no surprise that Osiander and Servetus alter the exemplar after which Adam was created. In the history of the church most theologians concurred that Adam was made in the likeness of the Triune God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. For Calvin‟s opponents, however, the first man was fashioned in the image of Christ, and, as especially Osiander stressed, that means the image of Christ incarnate. Since both men shifted the seat of the image in the direction of the body, this was the sole option left open to them. Of the three persons of the Trinity, only Christ had a human body that could serve as an exemplar. Yet, as Calvin points out, they risk running roughshod over the words of Scripture, both the “our image” of Gen 1:26 and the “last Adam” of 1 Cor 15:45.

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4. For Osiander, when Adam was created in God‟s image, the greatest blessing he received was having the righteous God dwell within the temple of his body; for Servetus that blessing was the infusion of divinity within humanity; for Calvin it was the generous endowment of divine gifts and the establishment of a Father-children relationship between God and Adam and Eve. 5. Servetus‟ anthropology has a profound effect upon his hamartiology. Since divinity is, quite literally, breathed into the soul via the lungs, babies are born with a tabula rasa as soon as they take their first gasp of air. They sustain this largely sin-free status until they reach ethical maturity around the age of twenty years old. Thus, according to Servetus, the fall into sin hardly scratches the image of God. By comparison, Osiander‟s concept of sin is much stronger. He is inclined to say that the imago Dei was lost through original sin, although he is not certain about the matter. By contrast, over time Calvin comes to the definite conclusion that sin almost blotted out the image and that the remnants are strictly tied to the temporal realm. They avail nothing whatsoever toward eternal redemption. 6. Altered anthropology also leads to changed Christology. Ironically, while Osiander and Servetus each propose a markedly Christocentric understanding of the imago Dei, they both end up diminishing, if not nullifying, the significance of the cross. Osiander looks to Christ to restore the presence of the righteous God within the bodies of believers. Servetus looks to Christ as the one who can raise humanity up to a higher level of divinity. However, Calvin repeatedly shines the spotlight on the atoning work of Christ‟s sacrifice for sins on the cross. For him it is enough to know Christ and him crucified. 7. In the writings of Osiander the line of demarcation between humanitas and divinitas is blurred. In the case of Servetus that line is wellnigh erased. Theosis, or deification, is a concept that can be found in the thinking of some of the church fathers and medieval theologians. It is also present in the treatises of some Renaissance humanists. In Osiander the inclination toward theosis becomes increasingly evident, especially in his statement that God was in Adam through grace just as he is in Christ through nature. However, in Servetus deification becomes explicit, as he boldly asserts that the human soul becomes God through regeneration. Calvin condemns this mixing of humanitas and divinitas as the most abominable heresy. For him the doctrine of the imago Dei teaches us that we are children of God, not clones of God.

7. Conclusions

Calvin invested many hours and much effort into the doctrine of the imago Dei. He already wrote about it in his first theological essay, the Épître à tous amateurs de Iésus Christ. Thereafter, he repeatedly came back to the topic in treatises, commentaries, letters, sermons, and, of course, his Institutes. Indeed, in one way or the other, this reformer was preaching, teaching, and publishing about the image of God for the majority of his three decades of active service within the church. Given the amount of time that Calvin devoted to the imago Dei, and more generally, to the nature of humanitas, it is regrettable that his teaching on anthropology has received substantially less attention than, for instance, his stance on soteriology. Furthermore, when the spotlight is shone on Calvin‟s teaching concerning human beings, the portrait set up for display is usually rather black and bleak. As I. John Hesselink remarks, “Calvin is famous for his pessimistic view of human nature and its possibilities.”1 From the start, this study has been probing for the truth on these matters. Does Calvin actually have such a gloomy view of his fellow human beings? More importantly, did he alter the church‟s teaching on humanitas and imago Dei in any significant way? Indeed, it was with this question, as well as five others, that this study began. By way of reminder the six pertinent questions are: 1. How does Calvin define the imago Dei? 2. Is his view of human nature coherent? 3. Has Greek philosophy influenced his teaching about the human body? 4. Is his view of human nature similar to that of Zeno, the founder of Stoicism? 5. What place do women have in his understanding of the imago Dei? 6. To what degree does he reform the doctrine of the imago Dei? To answer these questions in a responsible fashion Calvin‟s own context must be taken into account. As outlined in the introduction, this context is multi-faceted, including historical, personal, cultural, collegial, and polemical aspects. Now that Calvin‟s teaching on the imago Dei has been analyzed not only in his own writings, but also within the context in which he wrote, 1

Hesselink, Calvin‟s First Catechism, 61.

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the time is ripe to return to the six questions listed above. After briefly recapping the issues involved in each question (Chapter 1), the results of the study (Chapters 2–6) will be brought to bear on each topic, paying particular attention to the conclusions at the end of each chapter. The overall aim is to present Calvin‟s instruction on the imago Dei, as well as humanitas, in a historically accurate and theologically elucidating fashion.

7.1 Calvin‟s definition of the imago Dei Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man by T.F. Torrance is still the standard work to which many people turn for an explanation of the reformer‟s teaching on human nature. According to this scholar, the essence of the imago Dei in Calvin can be found in “the idea of thankful response to the unbounded grace of God.”2 In other words, gratitude defines the image, while ingratitude destroys it.3 Torrance also highlights the centrality of the communicated Word, which is Christ, for a proper understanding of God‟s image in man. Beyond this, he distinguishes between the wider and narrower sense, as well as the objective and subjective aspect, of the image of God in Calvin. For his part, S.Y. Shih suggests that it might be more profitable to distinguish between the temporal and eschatological dimensions in Calvin‟s teaching about humanity. Using this chronological schema he concludes in the Institutes that “to participate in God is to become the image of God.”4 This mutual participation – God in us and we in him – is obtained through Christ who restores the image in us not only in his role as divinely appointed mediator, but also through the wholeness of his human nature which participated in God. The query that arises from the explanations of both Torrance and Shih is whether or not their distinctions and dimensions are germane to the way that Calvin himself writes about the imago Dei. There are a number of conclusions from this study that pertain to this topic: 1. Calvin‟s description of the imago Dei matures over time, but the core of his definition remains fairly consistent. For him the image is an attributive similarity which the Triune God imprinted upon the human soul from the beginning. That is to say, as God himself is just, holy, and wise, so he also created Adam and Eve in such a way that they were just, holy, and wise. The relationship which surrounds and sustains this attributive similarity is a familial one. Essentially, at creaTorrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 25. Torrance, Calvin‟s Doctrine of Man, 34. 4 Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 217. 2 3

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2.

3.

4.

5.

Conclusions

tion the image is: like Father, like children. In fact, Calvin explicitly states that the imago Dei is God‟s testimony to us that we are his children. Over time, he comes to include the human body and the dominion over creation in his definition of the image, although they are still regarded as small, or even very small, parts of the similitude. This attributive similarity is a special endowment which God gave to Adam and Eve, but which he did not give to any other creatures. Adam and Eve, as well as their descendants, were obliged to honour and thank the Giver of this unique endowment. However, to be precise, this response of gratitude is not per se part of the definition of the image. Rather, according to Calvin, it is the telos unto which the image is directed. In short, gratitude is the appropriate response to God‟s special gift to humanity, but it is not part of the parcel itself. The imago Dei does not involve theosis, neither in its definition nor in its telos. There were church fathers who dabbled with deification (e.g., Gregory of Nazianzen), as well as late medieval figures who did the same (e.g., Nicholas of Cusa). Prominent Renaissance humanists such as Pico, Lefèvre, and Erasmus, also spoke, to one degree or another, with undercurrents and overtones of deification in their language. However, Calvin encountered more explicit strains of theosis in men such as Andreas Osiander and especially Michael Servetus. This encounter led Calvin to counter any hint of fusing or confusing humanity and divinity. Under no circumstances will Calvin allow imago Dei to metamorphose into esse Deum. For the most part, Calvin defines the image of God in the same way that Bullinger and Melanchthon describe it. They all identify the image as an attributive similarity which God established between human beings and himself. This similitude engenders a bond of fellowship. Melanchthon emphasizes the epistemological aspect of this bond; namely, that human beings have the unique ability to comprehend the congruency between God and themselves. Calvin and Bullinger highlight the doxological debt of gratitude which human beings owe to their Maker. However, neither Wittenberg‟s professor nor Zurich‟s Antistes depict the image as a testimony of the Fatherchildren relationship which God established between himself and human beings at creation. The majority of Christian theologians, including Calvin, maintain that human beings were made in the likeness of the Triune God. This is the significance of God‟s declaration in Gen 1:26, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness.” However, Osiander and Servetus refocus the identity of the divine archetype, pulling the Son forward into the limelight and pushing the Father and the Holy Spirit off to

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the side of the stage. For them Adam was created in the likeness of the yet-to-be-incarnate Word. Calvin refutes this interpretation of the image by pointing out that Scripture speaks of Christ as the “last Adam” (1 Cor 15:45), not the first Adam. Working with these conclusions, it becomes evident that the schema proposed by Torrance and Shih – wider versus narrower or temporal versus eschatological – do not naturally cohere with the way that Calvin speaks about the imago Dei. For the reformer of Geneva the larger framework, or “schema,” is the Father-children relationship which God established in the beginning and of which the image is a testimony. Within this familial framework the different aspects of the image – the attributive similarity, the dominion over creation, the effects of sin, and many more – can be explained in a clear and edifying manner. Added to this, both Torrance and Shih present a Christocentric view of the image: the former with his stress on the communicated Word and the latter with his emphasis on the wholeness of the human nature of Christ. While there are elements of truth in each viewpoint, it is important to note that Calvin strove to maintain a Trinitarian understanding of the image. When some of his opponents emphasized the Son at the expense of the Father and the Holy Spirit, he resisted that trend vigorously. Concerning the definition of the imago Dei, there are two more noteworthy differences between Calvin and his aforementioned analysts. First of all, Torrance underscores the subjective, responsive aspect of the image. Indeed, Calvin speaks strongly about the necessity of giving gratitude and glory to the Creator. However, the reformer classifies gratitude as the response to, not the essence of, the image of God. Second, although Shih makes it clear that Calvin does not teach a fusion of divine and human essences,5 his key phrase, “mutual participation,” still has ambiguous overtones of deification language. In fact, deification is the very concept which Calvin refuted so resolutely in the teachings of Osiander and Servetus.

7.2 Is Calvin‟s teaching about human nature coherent? Scholars have noted that there are certain facets of Calvin‟s teaching about human nature which do not seem to add up. For example, Richard Stauffer draws attention to the fact that within the context of the imago Dei, the pastor of St. Pierre speaks about the Lord‟s command for Adam and Eve to have dominion over the birds of the air, the fish of the sea, and the animals that walk upon the face of the earth (Gen 1:26). However, our first parents 5

Shih, Calvin‟s Understanding of the Imago Dei, 256.

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Conclusions

ruined the image by sinning, and yet Calvin still speaks of the divinely given mandate to rule over creation after the fall. As Stauffer sees it, consistency would require that since the image has been effaced, the dominion should also be destroyed. Yet, surprisingly, the mandate remains, even after the image is ruined. Mary Potter Engel also discovers discrepancies in Calvin‟s view of humanitas. Sometimes the reformer is eager to laud the excellent and unique abilities of human beings, but on other occasions he is quick to castigate people as sinful worms wriggling about in the dirt of disobedience. Thus, Potter Engel wonders aloud why Calvin presents such a “tortuous mass” of “contrasting colors” and “conflicting angles.”6 Her solution is to explain Calvin‟s anthropology from the bifocal vantage point of the absolute, divine perspective and the relative, human perspective. By contrast, Stauffer is more inclined to let the inconsistencies stand where they may be, rather than trying to foist some kind of “unilateral systemization”7 upon Calvin. So, is Geneva‟s reformer coherent or inconsistent? The following observations help to answer that question: 1. Over time Calvin changed his mind about certain aspects of the imago Dei, clarified other matters, and added things which were previously lacking. One prominent example of this development is that whereas the dominion over creation was resolutely excluded from his notion of the image in his early years, it was included, albeit as a small part, in his later writings. However, what appears to one set of eyes as an inconsistency is recognized by another as evidence of theological maturation. Indeed, as Calvin himself once commented to Albert Pighius, “For what would be the point of living if neither age nor practice nor constant exercise nor reading nor meditation were of any benefit to us?”8 2. It is imperative that Calvin‟s polemical context is borne in mind. For instance, he teaches that although the image is destroyed by sin, there are still remnants in the midst of the ruin. If he is refuting a Libertine like Anthony Pocquet who, in Calvin‟s opinion, attributed nothing to the human will, then he will stress the abiding presence of the remnant. Conversely, if he is rebutting Albert Pighius, whose presuppositions included facere quod in se est, then he will emphasize the devastating ruin of the image. Again, these differences are not so much inconsistencies as they are consequences of directly and concretely addressing a particular audience. 6

Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 22. Stauffer, Dieu, la création et la providence, 201. 8 Calvin, Bondage and Liberation of the Will, 29. 7

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3. At any given point in time, Geneva‟s reformer may be speaking about human beings in one of four different states. There is the original condition at creation, the sinful condition after the fall, the condition of being restored in Christ by faith, and the final state of perfect glory when Christ returns. These four states must be assiduously discerned. When Calvin is describing human beings in the status integretatis, or in the final consummation, he lauds the excellent attributes of human beings. By contrast, when he is depicting humanitas post lapsum, he will be equally but oppositely emphatic about the dismal state of affairs that Adam and Eve brought upon their descendants. Such “contrasting colours” and “conflicting angles,” to borrow some phrases from Mary Potter Engel, are not inconsistencies, but rather an accurate reflection of the stark difference between pre-fall and post-fall humanity. 4. In addition, for Calvin, even after the fall the remnant of the image still has the potential to accomplish laudable things in – but only in – the realm of earthly, temporal, and civil affairs. Regarding the heavenly, eternal, and spiritual matters, that very same remnant is entirely useless. The reformers of the sixteenth century, including Calvin, often made use of this distinction between earthly and eternal things. Unless the modern reader bears this distinction in mind, the writings of the reformers can come across as frustratingly confusing at certain points. Mary Potter Engel‟s book, John Calvin‟s Perspectival Anthropology, is an honest effort to grapple with some of the tough questions concerning Calvin‟s comments on the doctrine of human nature. As such, her work ought to be appreciated. At the same time, rather than using a perspectival approach, which she admits is not explicitly found in Calvin, 9 it would have been better if she had worked with the same explanatory tools which the reformer himself used. These consist of carefully discerning the four anthropological states and consistently distinguishing between civil and celestial matters. When Calvin‟s own explanatory tools are employed, and his own theological maturation and polemical context are kept in mind, many of the alleged discrepancies dissipate or perhaps even disappear. Moreover, concerning any inconsistencies which may yet resist resolution, the advice of Richard Stauffer is astute: let them stand where they may be. Geneva‟s preacher was, after all, but a mortal man, redeemed by grace but not yet perfected by glory. He made mistakes like the rest of us.

9

Potter Engel, Perspectival Anthropology, 4.

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Conclusions

7.3 Calvin‟s view of the body and Greek philosophy In the final edition of his Institutes Calvin describes the human body as the “prison house” of the soul.10 This sounds distinctly Platonic. Therefore, the question has been posed: did Calvin allow Greek philosophical thinking to seep into his theological writing? In the middle of the previous century, Roy Battenhouse answered that question in the affirmative. In fact, he discovered more than seepage; he unearthed a possible “subterranean dependence on the very Renaissance optimism and rationalism which Calvin sought to reprove.”11 This subterranean dependence included a Platonic concept of the body. Charles Partee sees things in a different light. Rather than a substratum of Greek philosophical concepts, Partee finds the equivalent of Platonic “marginal notes”12 in Calvin‟s teaching on human nature and, in particular, the human body. Taking this one step further, Léopold Schümmer does not even find Platonic notes in the margin. Instead, he proposes that the Genevan reformer has managed to assemble a grandiose synthesis of scriptural teaching in order to articulate his understanding of the human body.13 Obviously, the spectrum of opinion is diverse. Concerning the human body, Calvin is either an unwitting Platonist, or an unusually gifted exegete, or some combination of the two. In any case, it is still puzzling that the reformer calls the body a “prison house.” In attempting to solve the puzzle, it is also pertinent to address the broader issue of Calvin‟s relationship to Renaissance humanism. This study contains various discoveries which pertain to this topic: 1. Calvin eventually came to include the human body as part of the imago Dei. This development is surprising for at least three reasons. First, earlier theologians, from Irenaeus to Abelard, were virtually unanimous in locating the seat of the image in the soul, to the exclusion of the body. Second, neither Bullinger nor Melanchthon included the body in the image. Third, at one time Calvin himself rejected the notion that the body belonged to the image.14 Yet in the final edition of his Institutes the body is included, albeit in a small way.15 Moreover, when he preaches on Genesis 5, he goes so far as to proclaim, “When men bear the image of God, his glory shines in their body and in their soul.”16 That Calvin connects God‟s glory to 10

CO 2.135–136; OS 3:174–176; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.2. Battenhouse, “The Doctrine of Man,” 470. 12 Partee, Calvin and Classical Philosophy, 21. 13 Schümmer, “L‟Homme, Image de Dieu,” 63. 14 Calvin, Tracts & Treatises, 3:419–25. 15 Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.3. 16 Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 326; emphasis added. 11

Calvin‟s view of the body and Greek philosophy

2.

3.

4.

5.

17 18

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the body before linking it to the soul is certainly striking and decidedly unplatonic. Furthermore, since the image makes human beings a “masterpiece in which one can view a unique excellence,”17 and since the body is part of the image, it stands to reason that the body also shares in that unique excellence. Consequently, Calvin the reformer is not as negative about the body as Plato the philosopher was. By including the corporeal aspect of human nature within the image of God, Calvin is more affirmative concerning the created dignity of the human body than his reformed-minded colleagues, Melanchthon and Bullinger. Although Calvin was willing to include the body within the image, he resisted any effort to make it the focal point, or seat, of the image of God. Both Servetus and Osiander had a markedly corporeal understanding of the image. Calvin refuted both of them. Calvin‟s description of the body as the prison house of the soul is not necessarily a sign of heavy dependence upon Renaissance humanism or the Greek philosophers whom many humanists were busy rediscovering. Concerning the relationship between body and soul, Geneva‟s reformer did not uncritically adopt everything that the humanists were advocating. For example, Erasmus and Pico, two prominent humanists, were trichotomists. They taught that the spirit and the body were at odds with each other and, more often than not, the soul was caught in the middle. By contrast, Calvin was a dichotomist. His concern was not so much to draw a metaphysical line in the sand between spirit and body, but rather to follow a chronological line through the soil of redemptive history. For him the entire human being, including the body, is either in the state of integrity, or sin, or redemption, or final glory. When comparing Calvin‟s view of the human body with that of the Renaissance humanists, it is important to bear in mind the difference between general and particular humanism. Calvin made ample use of the methodology of studia humanitatis, or particular humanism, but he was not enamoured with the conceptual content that Greek philosophers had to offer.18 In that regard, Renaissance humanists like Pico, Erasmus, and Lefèvre, as well as men such as Osiander and Servetus, drank more deeply from the wells of Greek philosophy. They not only read the writings of the ancient sages, but they also praised and adopted their insights. To be sure, Calvin appreciated

Calvin, Épître, 25. CO 2:140; OS 3:182–184; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.6.

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Plato‟s defence of the soul‟s immortality,19 but it was Erasmus, not Calvin, who attributed divine inspiration to Plato. Although the distinction between general and particular humanism helps to circumscribe Calvin‟s relationship to the Renaissance, in the end we are still left with his references to the body as the “prison house” of the soul. Why? To begin with, it is noteworthy that he does this within the context of death.20 Death only enters creation after the fall into sin. Therefore, when Calvin refers to the body as the prison house of the soul, he is not speaking about the status integretatis, but rather the state of sin or, in the case of believers, the state of redemption. Consequently, the body is not the prison house of the soul per se, but it is its prison house because of sin. Having established this, one might still wonder whether Calvin draws this “prison house” language from Plato or whether, in fact, he is taking his idea from Paul. After all, it is the apostle who cries out in anguish, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (Rom 7:24) At the same time, it is also possible that describing the body as the “prison house of the soul” was so engrained in the common parlance of Calvin‟s day, that while he had scriptural content concerning the body in his mind, this philosophical nomenclature was upon his tongue. In any case, it is erroneous to conclude merely from the occurrence of the term “prison house” that there was a large influx of Greek philosophical thought into Calvin‟s teaching on the human body. If anything, Plato‟s influence would best fall under the category of “marginal notes,” as Charles Partee suggests.

7.4 Is Calvin another Zeno? Calvin is known for his emphasis on God‟s total sovereignty and eternal election. These doctrinal trademarks have given rise to the question whether he leaves any room for human beings to choose and be held responsible for their choices. In short, does the omnipresence of God‟s sovereignty effectively turn humanity into a vast collection of statues fixed in place by the petrifying force of divine Fate? The Stoics, led by their founding father Zeno, would advise acceptance of Fate as the best way forward in this earthly sojourn. Does Calvin teach the same outlook on life as Zeno, only cloaked in Christian terminology? Concerned with the Bolsec controversy over divine election, Melanchthon wrote to Joachim Camerarius that Ge-

19

CO 2:140; OS 3:182–184; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.6. See CO 2:135–36; OS 3:174–176; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.2. The separation of the body and the soul at death is a thread that runs through the entire paragraph. 20

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neva was becoming embroiled in battles over Stoic necessity.21 Melanchthon‟s concerns have also been shared by modern writers who have wondered whether Calvin is a “fideistic fatalist.”22 Recently, Torrance Kirby has offered an intriguing, alternative perspective. He suggests that pagan philosophy has no choice but to decrease human freedom in order to increase divine sovereignty, or vice versa.23 In other words, from a philosophical point of view, the matter is always a zero-sum equation. However, Kirby proposes that Calvin out-Stoicizes the Stoics and out-Epicureanizes the Epicureans and manages to present an understanding of God‟s sovereignty which acknowledges, rather than obliterates, the humanitas of human beings. A number of findings in this study confirm that Kirby is on the right track: 1. In the first edition of his Institutes Calvin declares that the “image of God was cancelled and effaced” by sin.24 Over time he modifies his position and in the final edition of his Institutes he writes, “God‟s image […] was subsequently so vitiated and almost blotted out” by the fall.25 The addition of the word “almost” is small but significant. It reveals that Calvin takes seriously the post lapsum presence of the remnant of the image in all human beings. This remnant includes such things as the ability to distinguish between good and evil, the semen religionis, and the desire to maintain civil order. Yet whatever capacities this remnant may have, its powers are strictly limited to the realm of earthly, temporal things. Concerning salvation and eternal righteousness, the remnant is entirely impotent and incompetent. By acknowledging the presence of the remnant, Calvin ensures that all persons, regenerate and unregenerate, are still acknowledged as human beings and do not become amoral automatons. At the same time, by restricting the power of the remnant to the realm of earthly things, this reformer cuts off any attempt to steer the doctrine of salvation in a semi-Pelagian direction. 2. Calvin‟s defence of the genuine humanitas of all human beings is seen most clearly in his refutation of radical reformers such as the psychoktonoi and the Libertines. The so-called “soul-murderers” taught that at death the human soul simply perishes along with the body. To Calvin‟s mind, this degraded the human soul to the level of the life-spirits found in animals, and he had no patience for this kind of denigration. Moreover, when Libertines such as Anthony Pocquet Pitkin, “The Protestant Zeno,” 346. See Kirby, “Stoic and Epicurean,” 322. 23 Kirby, “Stoic and Epicurean,” 321. 24 CO 1:28; Calvin, Institutes 1536, 16. 25 CO 2:138; OS 3:179–181; Calvin, Institutes, 1.15.4. 21 22

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attributed nothing to the human will, effectively turning people into petrifactions, the theologian of Geneva again defended the humanitas of human beings, insisting that, although the human will was thoroughly corrupted by sin, it was not totally obliterated by the fall. 3. Part and parcel of Calvin‟s understanding of God‟s sovereignty is not only what the almighty Lord does, but also who he is. At creation, he speaks of God not only as the omnipotent Fashioner, but also as the diligent Father, tending to all the needs of his first children, Adam and Eve. Concerning the fall, Calvin describes the Lord not only as a Lawgiver who is full of wrath because his commands have been transgressed, but also as a displeased Father who deeply detests the ungrateful and rebellious attitude of his own children. Finally, in connection with the restoration of the image, this reformer states that salvation consists of adoption. In short, for Calvin, the God who is omnipresent and omnipotent is not Fatum, but Father. 4. Concerning the total sovereignty of God, the moral responsibility of human beings, and the remnant of the imago Dei, there is a substantial consensus among Calvin, Melanchthon, and Bullinger. To be sure, they are not identical in every respect. In particular, Melanchthon was slightly more optimistic than Calvin about what the remnant could accomplish within the realm of earthly things. However, they all agreed that the remnant avails nothing so far as eternal righteousness is concerned. In addition, the reformers of Zurich and Wittenberg portrayed the ruined state of humanity in language that is every bit as strident and unequivocal as anything that ever flowed from Calvin‟s quill. 5. If a comparison is made between how Calvin speaks about human nature after the fall and how the Renaissance humanists describe humanity, there is indeed a marked difference. What must be remembered, though, is that humanists such as Erasmus and Pico were often working in the back of their minds with an anthropology in which people are placed somewhere upon the great chain of human dignity and hierarchy, free to either ascend or descend as they choose. By contrast, the doctrine of humanitas in Calvin is focused upon the redemptive historical line of creation, fall, restoration, and final consummation. As a result of these differing presuppositions, comparing Calvin and humanists is not as straightforward as it may first appear. Calvin was passionate about defending the sovereignty, and thereby the glory, of God. At times his zeal on this point caused others, even his Reformed colleagues, to wonder whether he was diminishing, or even destroying, the humanity and responsibility of human beings. On occasion the

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preacher of Geneva was “guilty” of rhetorical hyperbole, just as most ancient and modern preachers are. At the same time, the true stance of any theologian often comes out in the midst of polemical confrontations. As he refuted his opponents Calvin demonstrated that he attributed value to the remnant of the imago Dei – not eternal, salvific value but genuine earthly, civil value nonetheless. In this way his explanation of God‟s sovereignty and human responsibility does not step into the trap of fatalistic Stoicism. Indeed, he out-Stoicizes the Stoics, as Torrance Kirby suggests. Yet we can go further than Kirby did. For Calvin the heartbeat of salvation is not, in the first place, eternal election, but rather undeserved adoption. God is always Father. The heavenly Father is not interested in constraining his children within the straightjacket of Stoic necessity. Instead, with pervasively paternal sovereignty he guides, provides, disciplines, and delivers those who belong to the lineage of God.

7.5 Calvin‟s understanding of women and the imago Dei Calvin addresses the matter of gender and the image of God in his commentary, and especially in his sermons, on 1 Corinthians 11. This is not surprising given the lively debate, la querelle des femmes, being waged at that time concerning the role and dignity of women. In this regard, anachronism must be assiduously avoided. La querelle des femmes in the sixteenth century is not necessarily identical to the so-called “gender wars” of the modern era. Nevertheless, certain core issues are similar. Today the catchphrase is “gender equality.” In the sixteenth century one of the contested questions was: do women possess the imago Dei in the same way that men do? This question arose from an exegetical conundrum. A plain reading of Gen 1:26f leads one to believe that both male and female are equally included in the image. However, the words of the Apostle Paul in 1 Cor 11:7 leave the impression that a man is “the image and glory of God” but a woman is different because she is “the glory of men.” Calvin wrestled with the apparent discrepancy between these two passages. Mary Potter Engel, though, is discouraged by the results. In the end, she finds that Calvin holds to an “uncompromising view that women are innately inferior to men.”26 Jane Dempsey Douglass is more optimistic in her assessment. She interprets Calvin as saying that women and men could share the same social and ecclesiastical roles, if only the times and circumstances were more conducive to that kind of equality.27 At the same time, John L. Thompson reminds 26 27

Potter, “Gender Equality and Hierarchy,” 727. Dempsey Douglass, Women, Freedom, and Calvin, 104, 120–1.

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Dempsey Douglass that Calvin speaks explicitly about women being created in the image of God “in a secondary degree” and that the difference between women and men is an “inviolable rule” in the reformer‟s estimation.28 The investigations of this study shed some additional light on this admittedly challenging topic: 1. Calvin deals with the apostle‟s statement “the head of woman is man” by first dwelling on its corollary, namely, “the head of Christ is God” (1 Cor 11:3). He explains that the headship of the Father over the Son can only be understood when the distinction of Christ‟s two natures are in view. With respect to his divine nature, the Son is equal to the Father in every way. However, with respect to his human nature, particularly in the state of humiliation, the Father is over the Son, just as the Son himself says, “The Father is greater than I” (John 14:28). Nevertheless, it was not degrading for the Son to be subject to the Father for the sake of our salvation. Instead, the Son‟s salvific subjection is a cause for celebration among all those redeemed by Christ. In a similar way Calvin suggests that Paul‟s statement, “the head of woman is man,” ought to be understood bearing in mind the distinction between the eternal, spiritual matters (la doctrine) and the earthly, civil order (la police). From a spiritual point of view, God has given his image and likeness equally to both women and men. However, from the perspective of how life is ordered during this present, earthly sojourn, there is a difference between men and women. The latter is subject to the former and consequently, the woman possesses the image of God licet secundo grado.29 However, this subjection – like the subjection of the Son – need not be viewed in an exclusively negative fashion. It serves a good purpose, namely, a complimentary order in society and church. Furthermore, says Calvin, when the present aeon gives way to the eternal era, then that secundo grado will give way to comprehensive equality. 2. Many of Calvin‟s theological predecessors struggled to explain 1 Corinthians 11, just as he did. From Origen to Abelard, from Augustine to Aquinas, each one tentatively proposed a solution to this crux interpretum. A good number of early and medieval theologians sought a way out of the difficulties by finding refuge in allegorical exegesis. Thus, the difference between men and women in 1 Cor 11 was transformed into a distinction between masculine and feminine modes of thought (Origen) or between superior and inferior 28 29

Thompson, “Creata ad Imaginem Dei,” 87, 135–6. CO 23:46.

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manners of reasoning (Augustine). The strength of Calvin‟s explanation is that he does not drift into allegory but applies the text in the concrete reality of gender relations in society, home, and church. 3. Renaissance humanists were also inclined to seek allegorical explanations of 1 Corinthians 11. For example, Pico transforms the distinction of genders into different capacities of the human soul. Again, Calvin‟s differentiation between spiritual and civil realms is more closely tied to the concrete realities of daily living. Ironically, when this reformer avoids an allegorical exegesis of 1 Cor 11 and opts for a grammatico-historical hermeneutic instead, he is more in line with the tenets of humanist methodology than some of the humanists themselves. To modify a phrase from Torrance Kirby, at times it appears that Calvin out-humanizes the humanists, too. 4. The pastor of St. Pierre made comments, even in his preaching, which elevated the accomplishments of men to such a degree that the contributions of women toward society, studies, and the arts were ignored and underappreciated. Evidently, he was not entirely free of what we now call male chauvinism. Considering the points mentioned above, it is inaccurate to characterize Calvin‟s view of women as merely traditional or “uncompromising.”30 As an exegete, he labours earnestly and extensively to arrive at a responsible interpretation of 1 Cor 11. In so doing, he provides a concrete explanation of how the imago Dei applies to male and female in the state of creation, sin, redemption, and final consummation. In this regard, John L. Thompson is correct that Calvin maintains the distinction in order between male and female for as long as this present earth continues. Dempsey Douglass suggests that Calvin is anticipating an era sometime later than the sixteenth century when female subjection in the civil and ecclesiastical realm will be obsolete. However, Calvin himself teaches that this subjection will not disappear until the new heavens and the new earth appear. In the meantime, however, Geneva‟s reformer made a significant contribution to la querelle des femmes of his day by directing both men and women to understand authority and subjection in a decidedly Christocentric fashion. Furthermore, when the distinction between male and female is viewed in the light of the relationship between the Father and the Son, the resulting portrait is much more positive than one might initially expect.

30

Potter, “Gender Equality and Hierarchy,” 727.

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7.6 Did Calvin reform the doctrine of the imago Dei? When compared to his theological forefathers, did Calvin alter the doctrine of the imago Dei in any substantial way? Did he offer an understanding of humanitas that is substantially different from his colleagues or his opponents? If so, in which way? This is the final and most significant topic under investigation. J. van Eck has proposed that Calvin started out by bringing the doctrine of humankind more in line with Scripture, but as time went on he inserted an increasing amount of philosophical material into later editions of his Institutes.31 By contrast, W. Balke avers that Geneva‟s pastor has made a significant contribution to our understanding of humanitas, one that exceeds the Renaissance humanists of the sixteenth century and even excels that of Calvin‟s own disciples in subsequent centuries.32 Does the truth lie more in the direction of van Eck or Balke? Pulling together the various discoveries of this study, there are eight conclusions which should be highlighted: 1. Reformatio is not necessarily the same as mutatio. Broadly defined, the Reformation of the sixteenth century was a concerted effort to bring and to keep the doctrine and piety of the church in line with the teachings of Scripture. Consequently, as a reformer, Calvin made changes (mutatio) to commonly accepted ideas when he concluded that those ideas were not in full accord with Scripture. At the same time, when he saw others making changes to doctrines which, in his opinion, veered away from Scripture, then he fought against those alterations. For example, when Osiander singles out the eternal Son as the divine archetype of the imago Dei rather than the triune God, Geneva‟s reformer is swift to refute him. Thus, on that particular doctrinal point, Calvin was maintaining the status quo that had been in place for centuries. Still, in this case his immutatio was a legitimate instance of reformatio. In short, Calvin can be a genuine reformer either by promoting change or by defending the status quo, so long as the teaching of Scripture is upheld in both circumstances. 2. For Calvin reformation starts close to home, that is, with himself. At the commencement of his theological pilgrimage he was steadfastly opposed to the notion that either the human body or the dominion over creation had any part in the imago Dei. As a maturing theologian, enlightened by further exegesis of Scripture and refined by fiery polemics with rivals, he changed his own position and included both the body and the dominion in the image. More importantly, al31 32

van Eck, God, mens, medemens, 115. Balke, “Imago Dei,” 177.

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though he started out by adhering to the absolute effacing of the image by original sin, he slowly came to the position that the imago Dei was not entirely erased. A remnant of God‟s image lingers after the fall. Calvin‟s willingness to change his own personal views on the imago Dei in accordance with Scripture is already evidence that he was a reformer of the doctrine of humanitas. 3. When compared to his theological forefathers in the early church and the medieval era, Calvin exhibited substantial continuity and selective discontinuity with the church‟s teaching about humanitas. The reformer maintained that human beings were created in the likeness of the Triune God and that the human soul is the primary seat of the divine image. He also continued with the understanding that Christ is a superior image of God such that he is able to totally restore that which sin had so tragically ruined. Conversely, when necessary, Calvin spoke out against time-honoured doctrinal assumptions. For centuries theologians had been working with a perceived difference between imago and similitudo. Which one survived the fall into sin, and to what degree, was a topic of lively discussion. Yet Calvin sweeps aside the whole debate, with its concomitant deductions and dilemmas, and declares that the similitudo is essentially the same as the imago. It is true that Augustine also held a similar position. However, since the medieval era was so enamoured with the imagosimilitudo distinction, it was a significant moment in the history of this doctrine when Calvin unequivocally rejected that differentiation. 4. Renaissance humanists had a tendency to speak of human beings as either ascending or descending the ladder of human dignity, depending upon whether or not a person was zealous to live a virtuous life. Calvin offered a fundamentally different perspective on human dignity. His focal point was not the hierarchy of the great chain of being, but the progress of redemptive history from original sin right through to final glory. Calvin‟s key response to the ruin of the imago Dei was not striving with zeal for virtue according to the admirable example modelled in Christ. Instead, it was a matter of relying in faith on the miraculous renewal accomplished by Christ. 5. Calvin was an earnest, although imperfect, defender of the humanity of human beings. When the psychoktonoi turned the human soul into little more than the life-spirit of an animal, or when the Libertines effectively turned the human will into a calcified stone, it was Calvin who stood on guard for the distinctly human quality of humankind. Moreover, in the context of predecessors and contemporaries who questioned whether the divine image also belonged to women, Geneva‟s reformer clearly affirmed from his pulpit that both male and

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female were created in the image of God. This does not mean that John Calvin was an infallible champion of human dignity. For example, like other members of the male race, he could make chauvinistic comments, also in public. Still, the blemishes that he had should not take away from the contributions that he made. 6. In the writings of men such as Osiander and Servetus, Calvin recognized errors concerning the imago Dei which had serious implications for other doctrines of the Christian faith. Although Osiander and Servetus proposed an empathically Christocentric understanding of the imago, they ended up undermining the cross of Christ and his vicarious suffering. In addition, their view of the imago Dei left the door open for human beings to become divine beings. As a reformer, Calvin resisted these deviations with vigour. For him, the centrality of the cross and the sharp distinction between humanity and divinity were not side issues; they were sine qua non. 7. The doctrine of humanitas in Calvin‟s writings cannot be properly understood without an eye for the four states of human nature: creation, fall, restoration, and final consummation. When the charge is laid that Calvin has an unduly pessimistic view of humanity, the question must be immediately asked: “Which anthropological state is under consideration?” If it is the state of humanitas at creation, one could hardly find a more optimistic author than John Calvin of Geneva. His description of human beings in Paradise is permeated with positive superlatives. If the sinful state of humanitas is under consideration, then indeed Calvin‟s language is sombre and sobering. Yet it is noteworthy that some of his most infamously gloomy vocabulary is taken directly from the pages of Scripture. Portraying human beings as worms and maggots is not an instance of Calvin‟s dreary, depressing negativity. If anything, it is simply an example of his ability to quote the Bible, in this case, Job 25:6. Moving forward, once Calvin begins to describe the restored, and even the glorified, state of man, the reformer once again returns to superlatives that have a manifestly positive ring to them. In short, Geneva‟s reformer is neither exclusively nor inherently pessimistic about his fellow human beings. Instead, just like his colleagues Bullinger and Melanchthon, Calvin is attempting to be consistently scriptural when he speaks about humanitas. 8. One of the most – perhaps the most – significant contribution Calvin made to the doctrine of the imago Dei is his definition of God‟s image in terms of the Father-children relationship. This connection between imago Dei and filii Dei is a theologically robust concept. It not only clarifies what the image was in Paradise, but it also explains the

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full depth of the fall into sin. Richly blessed children ungratefully turned their backs on all their Father‟s goodness and love. It also establishes the true nature of salvation. The restoration of the image is nothing more and nothing less than adoption in Christ, the onlybegotten Son. Finally, the connection between imago Dei and filii Dei elucidates eschatology as well. The ultimate goal is not to become some sort of divine beings but to enjoy the eternal inheritance which the Father has prepared for his adopted children. The conclusions above lend support to Balke‟s assertion that Calvin made a substantial contribution to the reformation of the doctrine of the imago Dei, and more generally, to the understanding of humanitas. At the same time, it is striking that one of his major contributions, the link between the imago Dei and filii Dei, is found in his commentaries, and especially in his sermons, but it is not found explicitly in his Institutes. The precise reason for this discrepancy is shrouded by the thick cloud of history. Nevertheless, two rays of truth penetrate through the opacity. On the one hand, it is apparent that Calvin was not perfectly consistent throughout the entire corpus of his publishing and preaching. On the other hand, it is equally evident that if students of Calvin want a complete and accurate understanding of his teachings, they will have to venture beyond his Institutes and start exploring the delightfully variegated landscape of the Calvini opera. At first glance, that expedition into the vast collection of Calvin‟s writings may look like a daunting voyage. Yet, like many trips, in retrospect it was well worth the time and energy expended. During the course of the journey, the travellers discover many new things, perhaps even a lookout point which offers an unforgettable vista. At one point in Calvin‟s sermon on Genesis 1 he proclaims: We should not stop too soon in glorifying God, seeing how he makes himself generous toward us. Not only does he give us a rank among his creatures, and not only does he give us superiority above all those creatures below, but he has imprinted his marks in us and has desired to make us his children because this image [of God] conveys that we are the lineage of God, as we have already alluded to from the testimony of Paul.33

According to Calvin, the preacher of St. Pierre‟s church, the image of God conveys that we were created to be children of God. From that vantage point every pilgrim can survey a theological vista that is not only unforgettable but also uplifting.

33

Calvin, Sermons sur la Genèse, 61; translation mine.

Abbreviations ANF

BAGD

CH CO

CR

EDT EvQ GOTR HALOT

HTR HUCA KD NPNF(1)

NPNF(2)

OS RelS TS ThToday TZ Vg WA WTJ ZKG

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Index

Abelard, Peter, 50 Agrippa von Nettesheim, Heinrich Cornelius, 84 Albert, Duke of Prussia, 211 Alciati, Andrea, 131 Allegorical exegesis, 164, 264 Ambrosiaster, 49 Anabaptists, 67, 80, 115, 192, 211 Angels, 142, 159 Anselm, 37, 45 Aquinas, Thomas, 38, 39, 40, 43, 51, 58 Aristotle, 36, 155, 157 Athanasius, 37, 52, 56 Augsburg Confession, 188 Augustine, 39, 40, 43, 44, 45, 50, 53, 54, 56, 57 anthropological trinity, 41, 183, 224 Balke, Willem, 30, 266, 269 Baptism, 144, 147 Barbaro, Ermolao, 155 Barth, Karl, 21 Basil of Caesarea, 45 Basil the Great, 40, 48 Battenhouse, Roy, 24, 258 Beda, Noel, 156 Bernard of Clairvaux, 38, 40, 79 Beza, Theodore, 162 Body. See human body under Image of God Bolsec, Jerome, 26, 172, 191, 260 Book of Concord, 211 Budé, Guillaume, 132, 133 Bullinger, Heinrich, 189 Calvin, relationship with, 189, 206 human body, view of, 194 human nature, view of, 192 image of God, 195 Cabalists, 138, 164, 208, 210, 227, 250 Calvin, John anthropology, coherence of, 22, 128, 255 anthropology, lack of attention to, 16, 252 Bullinger, relationship with, 189, 190, 206 church fathers, relation to, 34, 124, 130

historical context, 30, 64, 65, 68, 82, 121, 127, 167, 252, 256 human body, view of, 24, 133, 186, 258 human nature, view of, 14, 29, 68, 81, 129, 252, 266, 268 humanism, relation to, 24, 25, 31, 131, 134, 137, 164, 258, 266 last testament, 13, 115 Melanchthon, relationship with, 168, 182, 206 Osiander, relationship with, 224, 235 personal limitations, 119, 262, 265, 267, 269 Plato, influence of. See Greek philosophy preaching, 32, 106, 119, 249, 262, 269 scholasticism, relation to, 35 Servetus, relationship with, 246 stoicism, accused of, 179, 260, 263 women, view of, 103, 109, 263, 267 Camerarius, Joachim, 26, 172, 260 Charles V, Emperor, 238, 249 Chenelat, Pierre, 13 Children of God. See Image of God, Fatherchildren relationship as term for unregenerate, 96 Christiformity, 160, 162, 163 Christine de Pizan, 28, 84 Chrysostom, 46, 68, 117, 125 Church fathers, 34 Clement of Alexandria, 46, 54 Collège de la Marche, 132 Collège du Cardinal-Lemoine, 155 Colloquy of Worms, 224 Conscience, 89, 176 Consensus Tigurinus, 191 Cordier, Maturin, 132 Correspondence among reformers, 171, 173, 190, 206 Danès, Pierre, 132 Daniel, François, 131 Deification, 58, 62, 91, 98, 116, 147, 159, 165, 233, 235, 245, 248, 249, 251, 254, 268 Dempsey Douglass, Jane, 28, 263

284 Dichotomy, 148, 165, 259 Diet of Frankfurt, 169 Diet of Ratisbon, 169 Donum superadditum, 39, 221 Earthly and heavenly things distinction, 73, 79, 83, 85, 90, 97, 101, 103, 104, 110, 120, 122, 178, 197, 201, 206, 257, 264 Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, 87 Epicureanism, 27 Epiphanius, 114 Erasmus, Desiderius, 86, 135, 147, 238 human body, view of, 148 human nature, view of, 152 image of God, 148, 150, 153 women, view of, 151 Farel, Guillaume, 163 Fatalism, 26, 83, 179, 260 Ficino, Marsilio, 24, 155 Francis I, king of France, 71, 131, 132 Freedom of the will. See Will Frellon, Jean, 239, 246 Gnosticism, 36, 53 God indwelling of. See reciprocal participation under Image of God not author of sin, 199, 201, 206 God, image of. See Image of God Great chain of being, 143, 146, 153, 163, 164, 262, 267 Grebel, Conrad, 192 Gregory of Nazianzen, 45, 60 Gregory of Nyssa, 37, 40, 45, 48, 59 Hermes Trismegistus, 239, 241 Heshusius, Tileman, 113 Hoitenga, Dewey J. Jr, 15 Homo triumphans, 137 Human being as mediator between realms, 45 as microcosm, 44, 107, 141, 159, 165, 244 as responsible agent, 79 Humanism, 24, 131, 155 general and particular, 135, 164, 259 optimistic view of human nature, 136, 158, 166 Humanitatis. See human nature under Calvin, John Image and likeness distinction between, 38, 53, 58, 116, 125, 146, 187, 198, 203, 216, 267 Image of God as a capacity, 37, 40, 54 as intellect and will, 36

Index as reciprocal participation, 22, 91, 98, 223, 253, 255 civil authorities, relation to, 72, 88, 133, 196, 204 created state, 14, 69, 115, 183, 196, 224, 243 creation as a whole, 44, 97, 118 definition, 19, 36, 60, 68, 71, 93, 104, 115, 196, 203, 205, 253 dominion, relation to, 45, 62, 68, 94, 117, 146, 166, 184, 187, 256 effaced, 70, 71, 74, 121, 166, 196, 206, 221, 228, 261, 266 fallen state, 52, 61, 69, 94, 105, 111, 121, 184, 196, 228, 244 Father-children relationship, 32, 70, 76, 77, 89, 92, 94, 96, 98, 107, 110, 118, 127, 150, 165, 205, 253, 262, 268 gender, relation to, 27, 46, 61, 83, 101, 105, 109, 120, 151, 166, 263 glorified state, 99, 115, 186 human body, relation to, 42, 43, 62, 93, 104, 109, 198, 243, 250, 258, 266 in Christ, 19, 54, 87, 89, 108, 123, 244, 248 redeemed state, 57, 61, 76, 86, 123, 160, 185, 188, 222, 230, 244, 268 remnant, 54, 72, 90, 94, 95, 100, 111, 112, 121, 122, 184, 187, 204, 206, 261, 262, 266 seat of, 42, 62, 68, 115, 205, 213, 258, 267 telos, 74, 93, 117, 254 Intellect, 36, 60, 86, 105, 124, 151, 197 Irenaeus, 38, 52, 55, 59 Jean de Meung, 84 John of Damascus, 45 Juan de Quintana, 237 Justin Martyr, 36, 42 Kirby, Torrance, 26, 261 Koran, 239 Kristeller, Paul, 135 La querelle des femmes, 29, 84, 263 Lefèvre d'Étaples, Jacques, 154 Christiformity, 160, 162 human nature, view of, 157, 161 image of God, 158, 162 mystical tendencies, 155 Libertas in externis, 181, 201, 206 Libertines, 82, 118, 121, 180, 191, 256, 261, 267 Lombard, Peter, 37, 39, 51 Lord‟s Supper, 113, 169, 191

Index Luther, Martin, 82, 147, 163, 214 Manichaeism, 116, 233, 235, 247 Margaret de Navarre, 28, 84, 162 Melanchthon, Philip, 26, 79, 82, 145, 168, 260 Calvin, relationship with, 168, 206 human will, view of, 173, 175 image of God, 183, 184, 186 synergism, accused of, 174, 176, 179, 182 Miles, Margaret R., 15 Mirrors, 86, 97, 100, 108 Nicholas Cop, 162 Nicholas of Cusa, 41, 60, 155, 158, 160 Oecolampadius, Johannes, 238 Olivétan, Pierre Robert, 13, 14, 16, 69 Origen, 43, 47, 55, 148, 149 Osiander, Andreas, 104, 107, 208, 210 catechism preaching, 210 cross, lack of attention to, 230, 231, 232, 236, 251 human body, view of, 214, 219, 222, 225 image and likeness distinction, 216, 226 image of God, 212, 219, 222 incarnate Christ as image of God, 215, 217, 226 indwelling of God, 220, 234, 236, 251 physiognomy, 222 Partee, Charles, 24, 258, 260 Pelagius, 53, 177, 221 Philo, 239, 244 Philosophy, Greek influence on Calvin, 24, 258 Physiognomy, 222, 227 Pico della Mirandola, Giovanni, 24, 138, 155, 230 allegorical hermeneutic, 141 freedom of human beings, 140 image of God, 143, 144, 145 optimistic view of human nature, 142 universe, realms of, 139, 141, 144 women, view of, 142 Pighius, Albert, 15, 31, 78, 122, 169, 256 Pitkin, Barbara, 26 Plato, 24, 42, 148, 154, 193, 239, 241, 244, 258, 260 Pocquet, Anthony, 82, 121, 180, 256, 261 Political realm. See Earthly and heavenly things Potter Engel, Mary, 16, 17, 23, 27, 256, 257, 263

285 Prophezei, 195 Pseudo-Dionysius, 155 Psychoktonoi, 67, 261, 267 Quintin of Hainaut, 180 Radical reformation, 202, 206, 208, 261 Redemptive history, 146, 153, 163, 165, 257, 262, 267, 268 Reuchlin, Johannes, 210 Roussel, Gérard, 156 Scholasticism, 35, 186 Schümmer, Léopold, 25, 258 Scotus, John Duns, 40, 58, 230 Seneca, 26, 132, 153, 193 Servetus, Michael, 31, 116, 236, 237 cross, lack of attention to, 251 deification, 245 desire for reformation, 237, 240, 249 emphasis on light, 240, 241, 245 human body, view of, 243 image of God, 243, 248 panentheistic tendencies, 242, 244, 247 sin, view of, 244, 251 Trinity, rejection of, 237, 238, 242 Shepherd of Hermas, 155 Shih, Shu-Ying, 16, 17, 21, 253, 255 Sorbonne, 132, 156 Soul. See seat under Image of God Soul sleep, 67, 80, 104, 115, 192, 202, 261 Spiritual and temporal things distinction. See Earthly and heavenly things Stauffer, Richard, 22, 255, 257 Stoicism, 26, 133, 172, 179, 260 Studia humanitatis, 135, 137, 164, 168, 259 Synergism, 83, 174 Tertullian, 37, 47, 57 Theologia rhetorica, 134 Theosis. See Deification Thompson, John L., 28, 263 Torrance, T.F., 16, 19, 253, 255 Trichotomy, 143, 148, 165, 225, 259 Trinkaus, Charles, 136 Valla, Lorenzo, 135 van Eck, J., 16, 17, 29, 266 Virgin Mary, 159 Westphal, Joachim, 113 Will, 36, 60, 78, 82, 105, 106, 165, 171, 197 William of Ockham, 38 Wolmar, Melchior, 132 Zeno, 26, 172, 260 Zwingli, Ulrich, 145, 192